Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the living room lamp bathed everything in a warm amber hue. Third sat with one knee propped up on the couch, iPad resting against his thigh, pretending to skim over the highlighted lines again. His eyes kept flicking sideways though—drawn not to the script but to Wan, who was sprawled beside him like he had no idea what he was doing to Third’s self-control.

He was wearing one of Third’s oversized T-shirts, the collar slouching just enough to show the delicate line of his collarbone. His legs—bare and stupidly inviting—were tangled over the edge of the sofa, and those loose, flowy shorts did absolutely nothing to help the situation. His lips still had a slight gloss from whatever he’d put on earlier, and his hair was tousled just enough to make him look like he’d just woken up from a nap. Third couldn’t stop thinking it—Wan looked like the softest damn thing in the world. All delicate wrists and sleepy eyes and skin that begged to be touched.

Third cleared his throat, voice smooth. “Wanna run lines, baby?”

Wan stretched lazily, a soft sound slipping past his lips as he shifted on the couch. “We’ve done this scene three times already.”

“Yeah, but this time I need full commitment. Eye contact. Emotion.” A grin tugged at the corners of Third’s mouth. “And maybe a little method acting.”

Wan narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. But he didn’t move away. Instead, he inched just a bit closer, brushing his knee lightly against Third’s. Third tapped the script on the screen, tilting it in Wan’s direction.

“This is the moment he confesses everything,” he said with mock drama. “You’re the other lead, remember?”

Wan frowned, glancing at the screen. “Which one is this even for?”

“Something new,” Third replied breezily. “Surprise role. Now come here.”

Before Wan could protest, Third slipped the iPad aside and leaned in, one hand sliding along the back of the couch, the other settling beside Wan’s waist. He shifted so that Wan was caged beneath him, pressed into the cushions with no easy way out. Their faces were so close Third could count the faint freckles near Wan’s temple. He smelled like vanilla shampoo and mint, the kind of scent that lingered and messed with your head.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you look at me?” Third said, voice low. “You drive me insane, Wan.”

Wan’s breath caught, his hand pressing lightly to Third’s chest, more in surprise than resistance. “Third… this is enough. You’re way too into it.”

Third tilted his head, his lips barely brushing the air between them. “It’s not enough. We haven’t even rehearsed the NC scene.”

That got a reaction. Wan’s cheeks flushed instantly, blooming red like someone had just flipped a switch. He pushed at Third’s shoulder weakly, but it didn’t hold much weight.

“You never said anything about that being in the script,” he muttered, flustered and very much trapped.

Third let his eyes wander down to Wan’s legs—those dangerous shorts and the way the hem danced around his thighs when he moved. His voice dipped into a playful murmur. “You look like a dream right now.”

Wan groaned, half-burying his face in his arm. “You’re insane.”

Third laughed, brushing a kiss against his jaw. “Insane for you, yeah.”

“Shut up,” Wan said, voice muffled, but his hand hadn’t moved from Third’s chest.

“Just following the script,” Third whispered, already leaning in again.

Wan didn’t get a chance to finish his flustered protest because Third was already kissing him. No warning, no slow lead-in—just lips crashing against his with a hunger that made Wan’s toes curl. It wasn’t sweet. It was claiming. Desperate. The kind of kiss that felt like it had been waiting all damn day to happen.

Wan made a soft sound in the back of his throat—half surprise, half surrender—and Third groaned low at the way it vibrated against his lips. He deepened the kiss instantly, tongue licking into Wan’s mouth like he needed to taste him, like he already knew he wouldn’t get enough. Wan kissed back with an urgency that made Third dizzy, fingers tangling in his shirt like he was hanging on for dear life.

Third’s hand slipped under Wan’s T-shirt—warm, slow, greedy—and dragged up along his side until he could feel the flutter of his ribs beneath his fingertips. Wan’s skin was soft, fever-hot, and Third didn’t stop touching. His palm slid up further, over his chest, thumb grazing across a nipple just to hear Wan gasp into his mouth.

“You’re unreal,” Third muttered against his lips, breathing hard, lips swollen. “You let me do this and expect me to stop?”

Wan opened his mouth to argue but all that came out was a shaky exhale when Third sucked at his tongue again, wet and filthy and deep. His thighs shifted, opening just enough that Third could settle more between them, hips pressing down.

One hand stayed under Wan’s shirt, the other gripped his thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there like he couldn’t decide whether to hold him still or pull him closer. Wan’s hands were in his hair now, tugging, breath broken, head tipping back against the armrest like he was already ruined.

Third chased the line of his throat with his mouth, biting lightly just below his jaw. “You taste too good,” he whispered. “Feel too good. Baby, what am I supposed to do with you?”

Wan whimpered, legs tightening around Third’s form. “You said it was just rehearsal.”

Third grinned against his skin, lips dragging lower. “And I lied.”

Third didn’t even give Wan a second to breathe. One moment, they were tangled in a mess of limbs and kisses, and the next, he was tugging Wan’s oversized T-shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere behind the couch without even looking. His eyes drank Wan in—bare chest flushed and rising fast with every breath, a soft curve to his stomach, skin practically glowing under the lamplight.

“Fuck,” Third whispered, voice husky and low like it was dragged from the center of his chest. “You’re so—so pretty, baby.”

Wan’s fingers curled into the cushion beside him, like he was trying to ground himself. His cheeks were already burning, lips kiss-bitten and slightly parted, and when Third leaned in again, Wan arched up to meet him without hesitation.

Their mouths met hard, wet, with no space between their bodies now—just heat and skin and gasps. Third’s hands were everywhere, greedy and unrelenting. One slid up Wan’s side again, over his chest, fingers teasing and tugging at a nipple until Wan whimpered against his tongue. The other hand slipped under the waistband of those soft little shorts and gripped at his hip, dragging him closer until Wan’s back arched off the couch.

Wan’s hands roamed too—over Third’s shoulders, down his back, clutching the hem of his shirt like he needed it off. Third broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, tossing it aside before immediately diving back in, mouth now traveling down Wan’s neck.

He bit lightly at the curve where shoulder met throat, then licked over it, grinning at the shiver he felt under his lips. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured, voice thick. “You’re always like this—sweet and soft and acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Wan let out a breathless laugh that turned into a gasp when Third’s mouth moved lower, kissing down his chest, lips brushing over the curve of his stomach. “Third…”

“Mhm?” he hummed, dragging his tongue along the line of Wan’s waist. “Still think this is just rehearsal?”

Wan’s hands buried in his hair, tugging gently, the way he always did when he was overwhelmed and wanted more but didn’t know how to say it. Third smiled against his skin, teeth grazing the waistband of the shorts.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. “Or I’m not stopping.”

Wan looked down at him, eyes wide and shining, chest heaving. He didn’t say a word.

He just lifted his hips—silent permission—and Third lost it.

He didn’t give Wan a chance to think. One second he was breathless on the couch, bare-chested and dazed, and the next—Third had him in his arms, carried like he weighed nothing. Wan let out a soft, startled noise, wrapping his arms around Third’s shoulders on instinct, legs curling against his sides.

“You’re carrying me?” Wan mumbled, flushed and trying not to smile.

Third grinned, his lips brushing the shell of his ear as he moved. “You think I’m gonna fuck you on the couch when our bed’s right there? Baby, be serious.”

Wan’s skin lit up at the way he said fuck you, like it was a promise wrapped in reverence. He could already feel the tension in Third’s body—his grip too tight, his breathing shallow like he was barely holding himself back.

The second they got to the bedroom, Third kicked the door shut and dropped Wan onto the mattress—not carelessly, but with a kind of urgency like he needed him now or he’d break.

Wan bounced slightly, hair mussed, shorts still barely hanging on. Third stood over him for a beat, just looking. His chest rose and fell, his pupils blown wide, jaw clenched tight.

“Take them off,” he said, voice ragged.

Wan blinked. “Huh?”

“The shorts,” Third growled, already tugging at his own waistband. “Off. Now.”

Wan didn’t argue. He slipped them down, and Third’s eyes followed every movement—slow drag over smooth thighs, the soft shift of his hips. By the time Wan was naked, Third was already crawling over him, mouth back on his with a hunger that made Wan gasp into the kiss.

It was all tongue and teeth—sloppy, deep, and so familiar. Third kissed like he owned him. Like he’d mapped every inch of his body and was retracing it with his mouth. His hands roamed without hesitation—gripping Wan’s waist, sliding over his ass, one hand squeezing while the other moved to his thigh, spreading him open.

Wan moaned, arching into him. “You’re already so worked up,” he whispered, dizzy.

“You kissed me like you wanted to be ruined,” Third muttered against his neck, dragging his teeth over the skin there. “Now you’re gonna get it.”

His hand slipped between Wan’s thighs, fingers teasing, stroking, touching like he knew exactly where the heat pulsed. Wan whined, head falling back, and Third swallowed the sound with another kiss, his hand slicking up, spreading him open with obscene ease.

“God, you’re already wet for me,” Third whispered. “How do you do this to me every time?”

Wan could barely speak, breath hitching when two fingers slid in, slow but deep, curling just right. “T-Third—”

“I know, baby. I got you,” he murmured, kissing along his jaw as he worked him open, slow and steady, until Wan was shaking beneath him, thighs trembling, lips parted and needy.

When Third finally pressed inside, it was with a groan that ripped straight from his chest. Wan gasped, arms tightening around him, legs curling up to lock around Third’s waist. They moved together like instinct—like muscle memory—bodies slick and hot and tangled.

Third fucked him deep, each thrust making the bed creak beneath them, his grip firm on Wan’s hips, his breath hot against his ear. “You feel too good,” he rasped. “Every single time. I’ll never get over this.”

Wan couldn’t form words. Just gasps, soft moans, the occasional whispered curse as Third hit deep, again and again, pushing him closer to the edge with every roll of his hips.

He reached between them, hand finding Wan’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Wan cried out, head buried in Third’s shoulder, voice breaking.

“I’m close,” he whispered, desperate.

“I know,” Third said, his own voice ragged.

“Come for me, baby. Let me see you.”

Wan shattered around him, trembling under Third’s weight, vision going white. And Third followed right after, moaning low into his neck, hips stuttering as he spilled inside him, still holding him like he was the only thing keeping him alive.

They collapsed together, sweaty and breathless, chests heaving. Third didn’t pull away—just kissed Wan’s shoulder, soft now, like all the fire had melted into warmth.

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the aircon and the sound of their breathing, still uneven and heavy. Third lay on his side, tracing idle patterns on Wan’s back, his skin damp with sweat and flushed with leftover heat. Wan had curled into him, soft sighs falling from his lips every time Third kissed his shoulder.

Third grinned lazily. “You okay, baby?”

Wan didn’t answer right away—just made a soft, muffled sound into the pillow and gave the smallest nod.

Third chuckled, brushing hair out of his face. “That good, huh?”

And then Wan turned his head.

Eyes still heavy-lidded. Face pink. Lip bitten. But his thighs shifted, brushing against Third’s, and when he looked up at him, there was something else in his eyes now. Something shy. Something needy.

“Again,” he whispered, barely audible.

Third froze.

Wan’s voice was soft—softer than before, breath catching on the word like he was embarrassed to say it out loud. His fingers curled into the sheets, face already ducking like he regretted it.

But Third leaned in, hooked a finger under Wan’s chin and tilted his face back up.

“What was that?” he asked, teasing, voice low. “Did my baby just ask for round two?”

Wan looked like he might combust, but he still nodded—eyes fluttering shut, legs parting slightly in invitation.

Third inhaled sharply.

“Fuck.”

He kissed Wan again—slow this time, deep and lingering. And as he moved over him, Wan let out the sweetest little gasp, back arching when their skin touched again. He was still so sensitive, every brush of Third’s fingers making him tremble.

“You’re too much,” Third whispered, kissing down his neck. “You let me ruin you, and then you look at me like that? What the hell do you want me to do?”

Wan didn’t answer, just hooked his legs around Third’s waist again, hips rolling up slightly like he couldn’t help it.

“Oh, you want me to fuck you again?” Third’s voice turned breathless, almost disbelieving. “Look at you…”

He reached down, guiding himself back in—slow, careful, because Wan was already a mess. And Wan—Wan just clutched at his shoulders, moaning into his neck, softer this time, but no less desperate.

His legs locked around Third’s waist tighter than before, pulling him in deeper, and Third groaned—because that tiny movement, that shy little tug, felt like Wan was taking control without ever saying a word.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Third whispered.

Wan’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down into another kiss—wet, open-mouthed, needy. He whimpered when Third thrust deep again, body arching up to meet it, his breath hitching every time they found that rhythm. Wan was trembling, but his hips never stopped moving—subtle shifts, the tiniest circles, but it made Third lose it all over again.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” Third panted, pace picking up. “So soft—so fucking good—always taking me like you were made for it.”

Wan moaned at the praise, face buried in Third’s neck now, his voice broken and small. “Don’t stop…”

That did it.

Third gripped his thighs, drove in deeper, faster—chasing the way Wan’s body shook under him, how he clenched around him, how those soft gasps turned into messy cries, little whimpers like he didn’t know how to hold them in.

And when Wan came the second time—legs wrapped tight around Third’s waist, eyes squeezed shut, nails digging into his shoulders—it was so raw, so pretty, Third barely held on long enough to ride it out. He followed with a groan, hips stuttering as he filled him again, forehead pressed to Wan’s temple, both of them shaking.

They collapsed together, tangled and breathless, sweat-slicked and trembling.

This time, Third didn’t say anything.

He just held him tighter, pressed soft kisses along his face, and let Wan bury himself in his chest—shy, sore, and completely fucked-out.

Wan mumbled something under his breath.

Third smiled.

“What was that?”

Wan peeked up at him, eyes glassy.

He was limp and sweet and thoroughly ruined.

Or so Third thought.

Until Wan shifted. Just a little. Bare thighs tightening where they straddled his hips again. His cheek nuzzled against Third’s chest, lips brushing faintly over skin, and when he spoke—it was soft. Hesitant.

“…Can we do it again?”

Third blinked, eyes flying open. “What?”

Wan didn’t move—just tightened his hold around Third’s middle, hiding his face deeper. But his hips rolled—slow, experimental, dragging against Third’s still-sensitive cock.

Third groaned.

“Wan, baby… we just—”

“Mm…” Wan whined, the tiniest sound. His voice was still shaky, like he couldn’t believe he was asking. “Just one more…”

Third swallowed hard, hands finding Wan’s waist again without even thinking. He could feel how warm he still was—how wet he still was. Wan’s body was trembling, sure, but he wasn’t stopping.

He wanted more.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Third said hoarsely, but he was already rolling them over again, pushing Wan down into the mattress. Wan gasped at the shift, arms curling up around Third’s neck automatically.

“Thought you were tired,” Third teased, kissing him, softer this time.

Wan looked up at him—blush spreading to his ears, lips parted, eyes hazy.

He parted his legs in invitation leaning back and biting his lips the apple of his cheeks red and he looked fucked out with messy hair shiny eyes glossy lips and cum dripping down his hole

Third nearly lost it on the spot.

He kissed Wan again—deeper, tongue slipping past those swollen lips, coaxing more of those tiny, sweet sounds from his throat. Wan was pliant beneath him, back arching, legs falling open with barely a touch. But this time, there was a different kind of need.

He wasn’t just reacting. He was asking. Pulling. Begging silently with every little shift of his hips, every flutter of his lashes.

“Fuck,” Third whispered. “You want it again that bad?”

Wan nodded, arms slipping around his neck, voice barely audible. “Please…”

Third growled low in his throat, hand trailing down Wan’s body—over his chest, his belly, settling between his thighs.

“You’re still so wet for me, baby. You’re unreal.”

He pushed in slow this time—so slow it had both of them gasping—and Wan’s nails dug into his back, thighs trembling as he opened up all over again. He felt tighter, overstimulated, but so warm. So good. Third had to pause, forehead pressed to Wan’s collarbone as he tried not to lose it instantly.

And then Wan whispered, “More…”

It was over for him after that.

He started to move, deep and unhurried, letting Wan feel everything. And Wan—shy little vixen that he was—met every thrust with those soft, rolling hips, legs hooked around Third’s waist again, pulling him closer, deeper, like he wanted to disappear inside him.

Every time Third slowed, Wan whined. Every time Third paused, Wan whispered his name, voice trembling, asking for more with breathless little pleads and kisses that didn’t land right, too drunk on sensation.

“You’re unbelievable,” Third panted. “You’re shaking, but you’re still taking me like you’re addicted.”

Wan couldn’t even speak—just held on, face buried in Third’s neck, body rocking helplessly under him.

And when they came again—together, Wan sobbing into his shoulder, Third moaning his name like it was a prayer—it was messier, hotter, more intense than anything before. Like their bodies were chasing something they could only find in each other.

When it was over, Third collapsed on top of him, utterly spent, and Wan was so quiet, breathing hard, lips kiss-swollen and glossy.

“…Was that okay?” Wan whispered eventually.

Third let out a soft, broken laugh against his skin.

Third held him like he was afraid to let go.

Wan was still trembling faintly in his arms, skin slick with sweat and something sweeter, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-bitten. His lashes fluttered but didn’t open, his breath slow but shaky. They hadn’t moved for a long time—too wrapped up in the afterglow, too tangled to separate.

But Third knew Wan needed comfort now. Softness. Care. So he kissed his forehead, then his nose, and whispered against his skin.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Wan made a tiny noise in protest, a soft pout forming on his lips. “Don’t wanna move…”

“I know,” Third said gently. “I’ll do everything, okay? You just hold onto me.”

And Wan did—arms looped around his neck as Third sat up with him, coaxing him upright, one hand rubbing lazy circles over his back.

He carried him to the bathroom without letting go.

The room was warm, filled with the soft hum of water from the faucet. Third sat him on the closed toilet lid, kneeling between his legs. Wan blinked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, pliant and trusting, as Third took a warm cloth and gently wiped him clean. There was nothing rushed about it. Every touch was slow, reverent. Every pass of the cloth followed by a kiss to his knee, his hip, his thigh.

“You’re so good to me,” Third murmured, brushing his thumb over the inside of Wan’s wrist. “So beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

Wan let out a tiny, breathless laugh, head tilting to the side. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Third smiled up at him. “Then I’ll kiss the tears too.”

He finished cleaning him up, grabbing a towel and wrapping Wan in it, drying every inch of him like he was something fragile and sacred. Wan’s fingers curled into the fabric of Third’s shirt as he let himself be taken care of, eyes fluttering closed again.

Third didn’t stop there. He grabbed his softest hoodie—one Wan always stole anyway—and slipped it over Wan’s head, careful of the tender curve of his neck. Then he knelt again, helping him into clean boxers, pulling them up slowly, brushing his hands down his thighs as he went.

“All done,” Third whispered. “You look so cute.”

Wan blinked at him, cheeks flushed. “You’re not fair.”

Third just kissed his knee. “Come back to bed with me.”

He guided Wan gently into the bedroom, pulled back the sheets, and helped him lie down before slipping in beside him. As soon as he was under the covers, Wan curled into him—one leg slung over Third’s waist, head tucked beneath his chin, fingers seeking the warmth of Third’s skin.

Third wrapped him up like he never wanted to let go.

And then came the kisses.

One to the crown of his head.

One to his temple.

One behind his ear, where Wan always shivered.

And then more—tiny, scattered kisses like petals, soft and slow, covering his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his jaw, the curve of his shoulder. Wan giggled, soft and sleepy, eyes barely open.

“You’re smothering me,” he whispered, even as he tilted his face for another kiss.

“I’m loving you,” Third whispered back. “Can’t stop. Won’t stop.”

Wan’s giggles turned into a sigh, then a hum, then quiet stillness. Third kept petting his hair, pressing kisses into the messy strands, murmuring between them.

“You’re safe.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’ve got you.”

“I love you.”

He kept whispering until Wan was asleep again, heart steady against his chest, lips parted in a soft little pout, arms still clinging to him like he never wanted to be anywhere else.

And Third didn’t move. Just tightened his arms around him, tucked his face into Wan’s hair, and whispered one last thing—

“I’ll always take care of you.”

And in that warm, quiet space where night gave way to morning, everything was love.

Chapter Text

“His strategy is reckless.”

Save’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and commanding.

“Your strategy failed the sim five times,” one of the higher-ups interrupts, unimpressed. “Venom’s gets results. He leads. You assist.”

Save stiffens. Assist. Like a damn sidearm.

Across the table, Auau lounges back in his chair, legs spread, fingers idly tapping the table as he smirks. “Try not to slow me down, Vixen.”

The room chuckles—soft, dangerous laughter from people who carry silencers in their briefcases.

Save snaps to his feet, fists clenched. “This is a suicide mission. And you’re putting it in his hands?”

“And you’ll be in his shadow,” someone says coolly, “as ordered.”

His jaw clenches. Fury radiates off him like heat.

He turns to Auau, venom in his eyes. “You set this up.”

Auau’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s calm. Too calm. His eyes track Save’s rage like he wants it.

Save opens his mouth to yell, but—

“Shut up.”

The words land like a bullet. Sharp. Low.

“Or I’ll give them something to hear.”

The entire table goes still.

Save freezes. He knows that tone—knows exactly what Auau means. That dark, husky edge that curls around his words, too intimate for a room like this.

Auau doesn’t break eye contact. Doesn’t blink.

His smirk? Lethal.

“You want to be loud, Vixen?” he murmurs, barely audible over the tension crackling in the air. “I can make you louder.”

Save’s breath catches.

A quiet gasp from someone at the end of the table. A clearing throat.

The mission commander stands abruptly. “Dismissed. Both of you.”

The room empties.

Save is the last to move, shaking with fury—or is it something else?

Auau waits until the door shuts before walking up behind him. Close. Too close.

He leans down.

“Still want to scream?” he whispers into Save’s ear.

“Or do you want me to help?”

Save doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back away. Not even an inch.

Instead, he tilts his head, lets his breath feather against Auau’s throat like a dare.

“Help me, then,” he murmurs, voice sweet poison.

“But if you’re going to put something in my mouth, you better commit to it.”

Auau stills.

For a half-second, everything freezes—the tension, the air, time itself.

Then he laughs—low, dangerous, hungry. One hand slides around Save’s waist like he might slam him against the conference table right there and prove a point.

“Careful, Vixen,” he growls, lips brushing his jaw,

“I bite.”

Save turns his head, their mouths so close he can feel the words when he says:

“So do I.”

Thomas’ office was always cold, sterile, and full of tension. But today, it was worse. Because Save could feel him enter before he even heard the door click shut.

Auau.

Tall. Arrogant. Impossibly sharp in a black suit. And absolutely, insufferably unbothered by Save’s existence.

Save didn’t even look at him. He just crossed his legs, his movement exaggerated enough to make his hips sway. He made damn sure Auau noticed.

He always did.

Because ever since that mission—ever since Auau shot down his entire strategy in front of everyone and waltzed away with the credit after using a modified version of it—Save had vowed:

He would destroy him.

With stilettos if he had to.

Thomas cleared his throat. “You’re going for one reason. Getting the vials from Volkov.”

Save’s eyes lit up. Finally, something worthwhile.

“The Vesseloft fluid?” he asked, already thinking of routes, extraction points, plans.

Thomas nodded. “Volkov is transporting it across the Black Line border in five days. We need it. He can’t have it.”

Save grinned. “Say no more. Just give me the files and—”

“You’re not going alone.”

His smile faltered.

Thomas gestured at Auau. “He’s going with you.”

Save’s smile died.

His head snapped toward Auau, who was currently adjusting his cufflinks like this was all a goddamn brunch meeting.

“You’re joking.”

Thomas was not.

“It’s non-negotiable.”

“Thomas,” Save growled through clenched teeth, “I can do this alone. I don’t need him.”

Auau didn’t even look up. “You’re right. You need a miracle.”

That smug tone. That voice. Save’s entire body tensed.

He stood up slowly, walking past Auau—hips swaying, shoulders sharp, the glare he threw over his shoulder hot enough to melt reinforced steel.

Auau didn’t flinch.

Just smirked. “That the walk of someone who can’t back up their bark?”

Save turned his head, dangerously slow.

“Get in my way and I’ll bury you in the fucking desert.”

Auau’s eyes flicked down, then up again—slowly.

“You can bury me in your sheets first.”

Thomas sighed and poured himself a drink.

The shooting range echoed with gunfire, rhythmic and precise.

Save stood at lane six, gun raised, stance locked.

The shirt clung to his torso—damp with sweat, tracing the line of his back down to a tactical belt slung over a narrow waist that shouldn’t look that good on a man who could kill in under five seconds.

Auau lingered in the doorway.

He was a man, alright.

But somehow Save made “man” look like sin.

Small.

Sharp.

All bite and thighs for days.

That mouth of his? Criminal.

And Auau hated how much his brain stalled every time Save snapped back or cocked a hip with enough spite to cause earthquakes.

So he made his move.

Stepping forward slowly, boots echoing on the concrete.

Save didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn.

Just fired.

Perfect aim.

“You’re holding it wrong,” Auau said, low.

“You’re breathing too loud,” Save replied coolly. “I could hit target 7 and your ego with one bullet.”

Auau ignored him. Instead, he closed in—his hand brushing Save’s waist, fingers ghosting over the tension in his side as if checking his form.

“Tight here,” he muttered. “But then again, everything on you is.”

Save’s smile was sharp.

Save didn’t look at him. Just fired another shot. Bullseye.

“I’ve shot more people in the head than you’ve had orgasms,” he said, calm.

Auau smirked. “Judging by that aim, both numbers are low.”

He stepped even closer, gloved hands moving without permission as he adjusted Save’s grip. His fingers brushed Save’s waist—slim, firm, too goddamn perfect.

Save stiffened.

“Touch me again and I’ll turn around and shoot you instead.”

Auau leaned in, lips near his ear, breath warm.

“You won’t.”

“Try me.”

Another shot rang out.

Bullseye. Again.

Auau leaned back with a satisfied smirk

The air in the training room was humid, thick with effort and tension.

Save stepped onto the mat first, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His black workout shorts clung to him in all the wrong (or right) ways, ending mid-thigh—showing off defined legs, sharp knees, and too much confidence. His shirt?

A one-sided, off-shoulder tee, slipping off his left side, exposing his collarbone, a peek of skin just enough to feel illegal.

He twisted his body to stretch, the fabric riding higher.

Auau watched—unintentionally.

Fuck.

The taller assassin stepped in silently, dressed in a fitted black tank and low-slung cargo pants. The veins in his arms were visible, his jaw set like stone. He rolled his neck once, then squared off.

“Focus,” he grunted.

Save smirked. “I am. Just not on what you want.”

They circled.

Silent. Measured.

Auau struck first—clean, efficient. Save blocked, rolled, fluid as water. Their bodies clashed in rhythm, every step calculated.

Then Auau lunged—

But Save twisted again—sweat-slick, fast—and Auau hit the mat hard.

With Save landing right on top of him.

Straddling his hips.

That damn shirt slipping further down his shoulder.

Collarbone on full display.

Breath short. Face flushed.

Auau’s eyes flicked there.

Once.

And Save caught it.

“Eyes up here, soldier,” he said, tapping his own temple with two fingers, but his voice was low. Smoky.

Auau’s hands flexed on the mat, resisting the urge to grab him and flip him over.

“You’re lucky I’m holding back,” he muttered.

Save leaned in, face close enough for his breath to ghost over Auau’s jaw.

“So stop holding back,” he whispered, lips curling. “I like it rough.”

A pause.

A sharp inhale.

But Save rolled off casually, brushing hair from his forehead, as if he hadn’t just sent heat straight to Auau’s spine.

Auau sat up, fists clenched, voice hoarse.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Save smirked over his shoulder.

“Yeah. And you’re loving it.”

The massive conference room echoed with silence. Long glass table. Floor-to-ceiling windows. No one but the two of them.

Thomas had left minutes ago, after dumping a pile of mission intel on the table with one command:

“Figure it out. Together.”

Of course, that meant war

Thomas’s voice had barely stopped echoing down the hallway when the door clicked shut behind them.

The massive conference room was theirs again.

Dimmed lights. One long glass table.

A single glowing blueprint flickering in the center.

Infiltrate the Vesseloft Gala. Black-tie. High security. Secret auction in the back rooms.

Someone’s selling off vials of the stolen fluid. They had one shot to intercept it.

And Save? Was currently perched on the table like a smug little problem, fingers trailing lazily across the blueprint, shirt barely hanging off one shoulder, diamonds catching the light every time he turned to throw Auau a look.

“We go in loud. Smoke. Panic. Walk out with the vials before anyone can breathe.”

Auau didn’t even look at him. He was too busy grinding his molars to dust.

“We go in clean. Silent. We can’t risk anyone knowing we were there.”

Save rolled his eyes dramatically, shifting just enough for his pants to pull tighter across his thighs as he slid off the table and circled him.

“You’re no fun, you know that?”

Auau turned to face him, arms crossed tight over his chest, that white tank barely containing the stretch of his shoulders.

“I’m not here to have fun. I’m here to not get us killed.”

Save stopped in front of him, just a little too close.

“You afraid someone’s gonna see you in a suit and realize you’re hot when you’re not glaring?”

Auau stepped into his space.

“You think you’re cute when you mouth off like that?”

“No,” Save said, voice slick, lips parted—“I know I’m cute. I just like watching you lose composure over it.”

Auau grabbed his wrist.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t rough.

But it was firm. A warning.

Save didn’t pull back.

He leaned forward—closer now, nose to nose.

“What, gonna put me in my place again? Slam me against the table?”

His fingers curled in Auau’s belt loop—lazy.

“Or just dying to get your hands on me?”

Auau’s voice dropped, thick, dangerous.

“You keep running that filthy mouth and I swear I’ll give this glass table a reason to shatter under us.”

Save’s breath hitched. A pause.

Then a low laugh, breathy, smug.

“Shut me up, then.”

And Auau did.

Not with a kiss.

Not yet.

With a shove.

Pressed him into the table, palm flat over Save’s chest—right where the diamond necklace lay against his collarbone.

Breaths sharp. Skin almost touching. One wrong move and someone was going to snap.

Save’s voice was barely a whisper now, lips brushing Auau’s jaw.

“One day, you’re gonna fuck me so hard the whole agency hears.”

Auau didn’t move.

Didn’t deny it.

⸻

Save scoffed, his breath sharp with amusement, but he didn’t budge. He shoved Auau away with a quick, practiced motion, creating just enough distance between them to breathe, yet still feeling the heat of their tangled tension.

“Alright, you’ve made your point. But the plan still stands. We’re not storming in like amateurs,” Save said, his voice steady, almost bored as he brushed a hand through his hair, like their little standoff was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Auau’s glare could have cut glass. His jaw clenched again, and his voice was rough, dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t know the meaning of clean. You’re just too busy trying to play at being a fucking hero.”

Save’s lips twitched into a grin, not even a flicker of hesitation. He leaned in just enough to make the space between them feel electric again, eyes locked on Auau’s.

“Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion on what I’m playing at. But then again, you’ve never been good at seeing the bigger picture, have you?”

Auau’s fists clenched again, his muscles taut as he stepped right into Save’s space, his voice dangerously low.

“Don’t think you’re clever. Just because you can talk your way out of anything doesn’t mean I’ll let you run this show into the ground.”

Save just tilted his head, unbothered, meeting Auau’s challenge head-on with a smirk.

“You’re cute when you’re all uptight and angry. Too bad that rage won’t get us the vials.”

Auau’s response was immediate, biting back without mercy. “And you’re an idiot if you think your charm will do the job either.”

Save’s grin grew wider. “You don’t think I can handle it? That’s adorable. You might just be jealous of my skill.”

“Jealous? Please. I’m just hoping you’ll screw it up so I can do what needs to be done. Might actually get us out of there alive.”

Save’s voice dropped, just a hint of dark amusement dancing in his words. “Keep telling yourself that. You’ll be a lot more useful if you stop acting like the goddamn babysitter.”

“Shut up, Save,” Auau shot back, teeth grinding again.

“Make me,” Save teased, stepping back but not fully retreating, his eyes still locked on Auau’s. The tension hung thick in the air, but both knew the plan needed to work. There was no room for failure. Even if the argument was far from over.

The boutique dressing room was all white marble and velvet hush—designed for discretion, not disaster.
Which made it the worst possible place for them.

Save stepped out first.
No entrance—a reveal.

The suit was black, fitted, intentional. Corset-style lacing pulled his waist tight under sharp lapels. The cut-outs at his sides flashed slivers of skin with every move.

His pants gripped his thighs before breaking into subtle flares, hem kissing sleek black boots.

Short. Fluffy. Freshly styled with soft, messy bangs that half-fell into his eyes. The kind of hair that looked kissable and grab-able all at once, too soft for how sharp his mouth was. He ran a hand through it and looked at himself in the mirror like he was already bored of breaking hearts.

It did.

He looked like a boy you’d ruin a mission for.

He smoothed the front of his jacket, glancing at the mirror with casual vanity.

“Do not start,” he warned, voice light but edged.

“I can feel your judgement breathing down my spine.”

Auau stepped out second.

Black-on-black suit, blazer left open hugging hus broad frame and clung across his chest.
Low-slung dress pants, silver chain at his neck, and glasses he probably didn’t need but wore like armor.

He looked like danger dressed up for a funeral.
Save looked like the funeral.

And when Auau saw him, his face didn’t change—but his hands flexed, and his eyes dropped to those cutouts like he’d been caught off guard.

“You wore that on purpose.”

Save smirked, licking his thumb and swiping under his eye like he was adjusting invisible glitter.

“You showed up dressed like you own the morgue. What do you want me to do, blend in?”

“You look like a problem.”

“You look like you want to solve me with your teeth.”

A beat.

Then Auau moved closer, slow, predatory.
The mirror reflected everything—Auau behind him now, hand brushing Save’s waist just where the corset exposed warm skin.

“One tug and this whole thing unravels.”

Save didn’t flinch. He leaned into the contact just slightly, head turned.

“You want me undone, that bad?”

His voice dropped, rougher now—still cocky, but edged in something more dangerous.

“Scared I’ll steal all the attention? Or scared you’ll lose your mind watching me take it?”

Auau’s fingers curled in the fabric.

Their eyes locked in the mirror. Chest to back. Not touching. Almost.

Then the tailor knocked once.

“How’s everything fitting?”

Save stepped back, letting out a soft, dangerous laugh.

“Perfect,” he called sweetly, voice dripping sugar. “We’re just finishing up.”

His eyes never left Auau’s.

“He’s very… hands-on.”

The changing room lights were warm and golden, but Save looked like cold vengeance.

He adjusted the hem of his white shirt—oversized, slipping off one shoulder just enough to catch attention without looking like he wanted it. Black shorts disappeared beneath the fabric, tight and sharp, while thigh-high black boots clung to his legs like a second skin.

He leaned into the mirror, smudging a thumb along the corner of his lip. His bangs fluffed soft across his brow, dark lashes framing eyes rimmed in shimmer. A thin necklace—dainty, barely there—glinted above his collarbone.

Perfect.

But what really sold it? The gun strap, nestled against the curve of his ass.

And the strap needed buckling.

Save’s smirk curled slow.

He tapped the comm on the wall, speaking low and sweet.

“P’au. I need a hand.”

No reply. Just the sound of boots.

The door creaked open, and Auau stepped in, dressed in a loose black shirt, sleeves rolled, collarbone peeking like a sin. Baggy black cargo pants, rings still on his fingers. Annoyed. Already done with Save’s shit.

“If you called me in here to adjust your lip gloss—”

Save turned, casual, one hand on his hip.

“Strap. Can’t reach it.”
He jutted out his hip slightly.
“Holster’s right here.”

He didn’t need to say where.

Auau’s jaw locked as his eyes dropped—to the curve of Save’s ass, the unfastened strap right at the pocket seam.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Save blinked innocently.

“Doing what?”

Auau crossed the room slowly. Wordless. Dangerous.

Save looked back at him over his shoulder, a smirk pulling on his lips, one booted foot tapped out to the side.

Auau crouched slightly, one hand at Save’s hip.

The moment his fingers touched the strap—

Save shifted back.
Just a little. Just enough.

The strap tightened.
Auau’s hand slid lower.
Gripped.

Hard.

“You’re a fucking menace,” Auau muttered—and then slammed Save forward, one palm flat between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the cool wall.

Back arched. Breath caught.

Save’s voice dripped with smug.

“Mm. You mad I’m making you do the dirty work?”

Auau leaned in, voice against the shell of his ear.

“You want to play, brat?”
Fingers flexed, still gripping his ass.
“I’ll make sure you can’t sit in that car ride after.”

Save exhaled a laugh, deliciously unbothered. His bangs brushed the wall.

“Do it. Maybe I’ll finally stop talking.”

Auau squeezed once more, hard—then stepped back, jaw tight, eyes darker.

“Strapped. Now keep your mouth shut unless it’s giving intel.”

Save turned slowly, adjusting his necklace, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Was that a threat?”

“A promise.”

The car was quiet.

Too quiet.

Save sprawled in the passenger seat, one leg crossed over the other—boot dangling, heel scuffed from the alley wall, shirt slipping just enough to show skin where it shouldn’t. The holster still hugged his hip, his fingers occasionally tapping over it like he wasn’t remembering every inch of Auau’s hand on him minutes ago.

Auau gripped the wheel, knuckles pale.
Jaw clenched. Muscles tense beneath the black fabric of his loose shirt.

Save’s voice cut into the silence, soft and smug.

“You’re driving like you’re mad at the road.”

“I am.”
Auau didn’t look at him.
“It’s not wearing a weapon like a fucking accessory.”

Save grinned, eyes trailing over him.

“You liked strapping it on.”
Beat.
“Want me to say thank you next time?”

Auau turned sharply onto the next street.

“Say something useful instead.”

The comm in their ears crackled. Thomas’s voice came low and clipped.

“Target’s exiting the bar. Black sedan. Plates match. Maintain tail. Do not engage until warehouse entry.”

Save straightened up, scanning the street.

“Got eyes. Tail’s three cars ahead, turning on Pine.”

Auau followed with practiced ease. Smooth. Controlled.

Save tapped into the line again, voice calm now, professional—but with that undercurrent.

“Distance good. Windows tinted. Driver’s solo. Could be decoy.”

Auau replied, low.

“You’re not sitting right.”

“Excuse me?” Save looked over, lifting an eyebrow.

Auau’s eyes flicked down and back up, jaw set.

“You’re angled toward me. Feet up. Mirror’s catching your legs. Adjust. Now.”

Save smirked, dragging one thigh back down slowly, heel clicking against the floor.

“Thought you liked the view.”

Auau’s voice was flat.

“I like not blowing a cover because my partner thinks he’s on a runway.”

“You say that,” Save murmured, voice lazy now, “but you still haven’t stopped looking since the strap.”

Silence.

Then: Thomas again.

“Prep for turnoff. Target heading to Dock 17.”

Auau’s hand slid to the dash, pressing a button.

The screen split—thermal overlay tracking the car.

Save leaned in slightly, just enough to brush his shoulder against Auau’s arm.

“You feel that?”

Auau didn’t move.

“Feel what?”

“Your pulse. Going faster.”
Save’s breath tickled near his neck.
“You only get like this when you’re about to hit something… or someone.”

Auau exhaled slow. Dangerous.

“Keep talking, and I’ll park this car and make you regret ever asking me to touch you.”

Save smirked.

“Make me.”

Their earpieces clicked again.

“Approaching drop point,” Thomas said. “Ready weapons. Ready masks.”

Save finally leaned back, eyes gleaming, lips parted in the dim lighting.

“Let’s go ruin someone else’s night for a change.”

Dock 17 was silent.
Rain misted down in fine sheets, slicking the pavement and making everything shimmer like oil and danger.
The target car was parked—empty now—but lights were on inside the warehouse.

They split at the loading bay.

“I’ll take the north stairs,” Auau muttered.
“You take catwalk.”

Save adjusted the comm in his ear, voice soft and sing-song.

“Ooh. I get the high ground. Always wanted to look down on you officially.”

“Focus.”

“I am. I can do that and be cute. You should try it.”

No reply. Just static and faint breathing.

⸻

Inside, the warehouse stretched in shadows and sharp angles.
Crates stacked to the ceiling. Steel catwalks overhead.
Flickering lights, occasional murmurs—men talking in Russian, moving cargo.

Save’s boots didn’t make a sound on metal as he climbed. He adjusted the gun at his thigh, hair damp now, lips parted slightly from exertion.

He exhaled into the mic.

“Two guards. Left corridor. One’s twitchy. I could take them…”
Pause.
“…or distract them. I do have assets.”

Auau, somewhere near the ground floor behind a container stack, muttered through grit teeth:

“Do not flash your ass at a weapons dealer, Vixen.”

“You noticed that detail from this far away?”
Save whispered, smug.
“P’au, you’re getting predictable.”

“You’re getting shot if you don’t shut up.”

⸻

Below, Auau crouched behind a steel crate, eyes locked on a shadow moving across a flickering hallway.

Above, Save tracked the second floor, crouched low, gun out, peeking between rails.

His whisper slid into Auau’s ear again.

“You breathing heavy, or is that me?”

“I will kill you.”

“Kinda hot when you say it like that.”

Silence.

Then—soft movement.

Save froze. A guard passed below him, rifle slung, heading toward the stairwell.

Save whispered:

“He’s coming toward you. 20 seconds.”

Auau didn’t respond. Just moved.

Five seconds later—a faint scuffle, then a thud.

Static.

Save tensed.

“P’au?”

No reply.

“Auau—say something. You alive or am I the main character now?”

His earpiece crackled.

Then low, breathy, furious:

“Still alive. Shut up. Move to southwest corner—now.”

Save smiled.
Relieved. But mostly entertained.

“Missed me already?”

“I swear to god, Save—”

“Vixen.”

“—If I get shot because of your mouth, I’m gonna ruin your pretty boots with what’s left of your pride.”

Save’s voice came softer now, right against the mic.

“So possessive. You’re lucky I like being bossed around.”

A pause.

Then Auau’s voice, a low growl:

“You’re not making it out of this warehouse with clean thoughts.”

It happened fast.

Save had just cleared the catwalk when a guard rounded the corner below, flashlight beam slicing through the steel shadows.

“Shit—”
Save whispered, but the comm cracked—a fizz of static.

He dropped to a crouch, body pressed flat behind a support beam, but he could see movement below—guards shifting, pattern changing.

Someone was suspicious.

No contact from Auau.
Comms were out.

Save clenched his jaw, slid down the narrow steel steps, boots silent, weapon ready—but something was off. More shadows than there should’ve been. Someone moved near the crates.

And just as he turned the corner—

a hand grabbed him.

Yanked. Hard.

He slammed back—into chest, leather, a hard body and sharp breath.

“Don’t talk.”

Auau.

They were pressed chest-to-back, Save pinned to the wall of crates, Auau’s arm tight across his middle, breath hot at his neck.

So close. So warm. So—
Furious.

“You almost got caught.”

Save grinned—tight, breathy.

“Aww. Worried about me?”

“I was hoping they’d shoot you.”

They stayed like that—silent, breathing, bodies flush in the dark.

Save squirmed just slightly. The movement made Auau’s fingers twitch at his waist.

“Mm. You’re shaking.”

“You’re infuriating.”

Their earpieces were still dead. Just the two of them. No backup. No comms.

Just the sound of breath against collarbones, boots scraping concrete, throats tightening.

Save tilted his head back—barely—his temple brushing against Auau’s jaw.

“You smell like gun oil and leather. It’s kind of a thing.”

“You’re impossible.”
Auau hissed it, leaning closer.

“And you’re hard.”
Save whispered it like sin, hips pressed back just enough to prove it.

Auau didn’t deny it.

Instead, his hand slid down—dangerously low—before catching the holster strap.

“I should rip this off and leave you with nothing but that damn necklace.”

Save exhaled a quiet laugh, eyes fluttering shut for half a second.

“Do it and you’ll hear me moan louder than the gunshots.”

Then—

voices. Close.

They froze.

A guard passed just feet from their hiding place, light dragging across the edge of the crate.

Neither moved.
Not a breath.
Not a sound.

Save could feel Auau’s heartbeat—fast, furious, against his back.
Auau could feel Save’s smirk, even without seeing it.

As the guard’s footsteps faded, Save finally whispered, lips barely parting.

“You’re still holding me.”

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to let go.”

“I haven’t decided if I want you to.”

The guard’s footsteps had barely faded when Auau moved first.

Hand at Save’s hip—push.

“Go. Left flank. Now.”

They split off like muscle memory. Ghost-quiet, guns drawn, each step falling in rhythm. The warehouse had gone from risky to hostile. Three more heat signatures on the thermal overlay had blinked into position near the docked crates.

Auau took the ground. Save took the heights.

And they started killing.

⸻

Save was all elegance and cruelty.

He moved like smoke—white shirt trailing, boots silent, dark gun glinting as he took the first guard with a clean, single shot to the temple.

Another turned. Too slow.

Save lunged, spun—his boot catching the guy’s knee with a brutal crack, then pistol-whipped him into the crate edge.
Blood spattered against wood.
No sound.
Silenced.

He whispered into the earpiece—back online.

“Two down. You gonna keep up, P’au?”

⸻

Auau was violence sculpted in leather.

He slid behind two guards mid-conversation, expression unreadable. One hand grabbed the first by the collar, the other buried a blade between ribs—twist, drop, silent.

The second reached for a weapon—
Auau’s elbow met his face with a sickening crunch.

Down.

He flicked his knife once, clean.

“Stop narrating and finish the sweep.”

“Mm. You don’t like hearing me breathe in your ear anymore?”

“I don’t like when you talk while we’re working.”

“You liked it ten minutes ago when I begged.”

Static.

Then—Auau’s voice, low.

“Sweep the upper mezzanine or I will tie you to a crate.”

⸻

They moved together now.

Save vaulted a stack, flipped a blade from his boot and threw it with pinpoint accuracy into a man climbing the ladder toward him. The body dropped silently, hanging by the belt.

Auau had eyes on the warehouse’s glass office, where Volkov’s second-in-command was locking up data drives.

“Office. Left wing. Ten o’clock.”

Save was already there, pressing fingers to the earpiece.

“I’m closer.”

“Wait for my go.”

“You waiting when I told you to strap me?”

Auau gritted his teeth. Voice sharp.

“Go.”

Save dropped through the skylight like a shadow.
Landed silent.

Gun up.

Two shots. Center mass.

He turned just in time to see Auau step in, grabbing the drive from the bloodied desk.

“Fast hands.”
Save smirked, cocking his head.
“Wanna use them on me next?”

“After I use them to cuff you to the car.”

⸻

Sirens in the distance. Extraction call in their ears.

Save wiped a line of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

“That’s it?”

Auau looked him up and down. Shirt askew, chest heaving, glitter still smudged across his eyes from earlier.

“No. But that’s all I’ll let you enjoy.”

“So you are enjoying this.”

“I enjoy results. You’re just… the mess that comes with them.”

“Pretty little mess, though.”

Auau slammed the warehouse door open.

“Move. Before I make your mouth useful another way.”

Save followed, smiling through blood and gunpowder.

The SUV screeched into the underground garage of HQ.
Gunpowder still clung to their skin, blood dried into the edges of their gear. Save was flushed and sweaty, glitter barely smeared under his eyes, and Auau—silent, focused, jaw locked like he hadn’t come down from combat mode yet.

They stepped out at the same time.

Save flipped his hair out of his face.
Auau pulled off his gloves, flexing his fingers.

And the elevator doors opened to reveal Thomas already waiting, tablet in hand.

“Office. Now.”

They didn’t even get to change.

The glass doors swung open, the light inside too bright for how much murder they’d just committed.

“Flight leaves at 0700,” Thomas said, not even looking up.
“New target. Volkov’s man has gone dark—Berlin this time.”

Auau grunted, arms crossed. Save slumped into the conference chair like he owned it.

“We don’t even get a meal? A massage? A glass of wine for the trauma?”

Thomas didn’t flinch.
“There’s wine on the plane. If you want trauma, try being your handler.”

Save scoffed. Auau smirked. Just barely.

“Offices. Shower. Pack. Don’t bother sleeping.”

Save got up first. Smug. Exhausted. Dangerous.

“Don’t worry,” he said, already headed toward the hallway, voice sing-song,
“I plan to be squeaky clean. Maybe even soft. Tempting, huh, P’au?”

Auau rolled his eyes but didn’t stop looking.

Each assassin had their own floor in the upper levels—“cubicle” was a lie. These were private rooms made for recovering between kills: soft lighting, stone-and-glass showers, blackout windows, a wardrobe full of tactical fashion.

Save’s room glowed dimly, music low, steam rolling over the mirror.

He stepped out, towel low on his hips, hair damp and fluffy, the mirror fogged around the edges of his face.

Then a thought.

A terrible, brilliant, evil thought.

⸻

Ten minutes later, Save slipped out the door.

Soft sweater, slouched to one side.
Fluffy white shorts hugging his thighs like sin.
Bunny tail clipped exactly where Auau would hate it.
Gun in hand. Necklace glinting.

And he padded—barefoot, silently—to Auau’s floor.

“Let’s see if the wolf is still wet.”

The HQ corridors were quiet at this hour.
Most agents had cleared out to debrief or crash after the Volkov mission. But not Save. Oh no. He had one more assignment tonight.

Personal. Petty. Perfect.

He reached Auau’s door.

Didn’t knock. Didn’t pause.

He opened it.

⸻

Steam rolled out instantly.
Warm, clean, and soaked in the scent of Auau’s cologne and soap.

Save stepped in like he belonged there.
Casual. Deadly. Amused.

Auau stepped out of the bathroom at that exact moment—towel slung low on his hips, dark hair still wet, droplets rolling down the hard lines of his chest and torso. His eyes narrowed the second they landed on the intruder.

“…What the hell are you wearing.”

Save smirked and spun slowly—tail bouncing.

“You like it?”
He dragged a hand over the soft fabric of his sweater, letting it slip a little more off his shoulder.
“Thought I’d stop by. Check on your… blood pressure.”

Auau didn’t move at first. His hands clenched at his sides, towel threatening to slide lower with each second.

“Out.”

Save only stepped closer, boots quiet on the floor, gaze dropping deliberately to the towel, then back up. Lazy. Dangerous.

“You’re wet.”
A pause.
“Want me to help you dry off, P’au?”

“You think this is funny?”

“I think you’re two seconds from throwing me against the wall again. Which is… hot, honestly.”

Auau exhaled hard through his nose. The steam wasn’t just from the shower now.

“You’re a menace.”

“Mm. You keep saying that like it’s a problem.”
Save reached out and just barely traced a droplet of water from Auau’s chest with his finger.
“Besides. You didn’t say no.”

The towel slipped half an inch lower.

Auau caught his wrist.

“Say one more word and I’ll—”

“Moan?”

There was a moment of silence so thick, it might’ve snapped in two.
Breath. Heat. Steam. Tension.

“Out.”
This time, Auau growled it.

Save stepped back—but smiled, wicked and perfect.

“See you on the plane, big guy.”
And with a wink and a bounce of that damn tail, he disappeared into the hall.

Auau stood there, soaked, furious, half-hard, towel barely staying on.

“I hate him,” he muttered.
Lied.

He barely had time to towel off.

The mission hadn’t even cooled on his skin—Volkov’s blood still fresh in his head—when the door creaked open, uninvited, and he knew.
Only one person was that disrespectful. That stupid. That lethal.

And that’s when he walked in.

Save.

Wearing what could only be described as an act of war.

A matching white bunny set—soft crop sweater sliding off one delicate shoulder, sleeves too long, hanging past his knuckles like he was some kind of innocent.

He wasn’t.

Because the real crime?

The fluffy holster.

Faux fur. Pale white. Wrapped high on his thigh and strapped across his hips, hugging the curve of his ass like it had a personal vendetta.

And right in the center of that perfect, sculpted backside—clipped bold and unapologetically—

The tail.

Small. Round. Soft.

Deadly.

Auau stared.

Blink.
Again.

Nope. Still there.

Auau blanked.

For two full seconds, he forgot how to breathe.

Then the rage came.

But it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t pure.

It was tangled in heat.

He hated that Save could just walk into his space like that, wearing something that should’ve been a joke but somehow looked like a threat—
A weapon tailored from fluff and skin and smug little smiles.

He watched the soft fabric cling to that too-small waist, those hips that moved with purpose, every bounce of that stupid tail sharpening into an ache behind his teeth.

He wanted to grab it.

Not gently.

“What the hell are you wearing.”
His voice sounded steadier than he felt.

Save just smiled. Like he knew. Like he could see the war tearing through his head.

This isn’t professional.
This is a trap.

But god—those eyes. That glitter. That slouch of collarbone and the way Save stood like he dared him to do something about it.

He wasn’t scared of Auau.
He wanted him mad.

And it worked.

Because all Auau could think about as he gripped the towel tighter was how fast he could back him into the wall, tear that sweater off, and—

No.

No. Not now. Not here. Not because he asked for it like that.

But when Save walked out with that tail bouncing and smugness painted all over him?

Auau knew one thing:

Next time he walked in like that—he wasn’t walking out untouched.

The jet hummed low beneath them, slicing through clouds under moonlight.

It was sleek, black, and built for quiet extraction.
Two operatives. One mission. Zero patience.

Auau sat with one leg draped over his knee, head tilted back, hoodie zipped halfway—just enough to reveal the defined V of his abs every time the aircraft dipped slightly in altitude. The sleeves were pushed up, forearms flexed where his arms rested lazily along the armrests.

He hadn’t spoken since takeoff.

Across from him, Save sprawled like a cat who owned the cabin.

Long legs stretched out, one knee brushing against Auau’s shin occasionally—on purpose. His fitted black pants clung like a second skin, shirt loose and slipping off one shoulder again, glitter dusting his cheeks like he’d done it just to be annoying.

His voice broke the silence, sweet and sharp:

“Didn’t realize Vesseloft issued hoodies now. Very… stupid and cliché.”

Auau didn’t look at him.
“Shut up.”

Save kicked his boot lightly against his ankle. “Why? Getting hot under that zipper?”

He smirked, watching Auau’s jaw flex.

He had exactly ten buttons pushed—and counting.

Auau finally looked over, gaze slow, dangerous.
“The only thing overheating in here is your ego.”

Save smiled wider. Tilted his head innocently. “And yet you’re the one with your abs out like we’re in a calendar shoot.”

The jet dipped again—mild turbulence.

Save’s hand shot out instinctively, grabbing the edge of Auau’s seat for balance, body lurching closer.

Auau didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Just looked down—at the fingers curled around his thigh now.

A long, loaded pause.

“Enjoying the ride, brat?”

Save blinked, then slowly withdrew his hand—dragging it just slightly along Auau’s leg before pulling away.

“I was. Until it started smelling like testosterone and poor communication.”

Auau leaned forward then—just a bit.

His voice was quiet, deep, right at the edge of low and lethal.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll remind you why they put us in separate hotel rooms.”

Save looked up through lashes.

“Is that a threat, or an invitation?”

Another bump.

Save lurched again—this time falling forward fully, catching himself with both palms flat on Auau’s thighs.

A sharp inhale.

For one insane second, they just stared at each other—mouths inches apart, eyes dark, breath shared.

Neither moved.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the speaker.
“Ten minutes to descent. Prepare for landing.”

Save pulled back, slow, smirking as he flopped into his seat again.

“Hope customs is ready for you. You’re carrying dangerous weapons.”
His eyes dragged down Auau’s chest.
“Specifically two.”

Auau groaned. Loudly.

“Next flight, I’m requesting a parachute.”

Save just smiled.

“And miss this tension? Tragic.”

The hotel was sleek. Quiet. Five stars and no questions asked.
Exactly Vesseløft style: discreet luxury with reinforced glass and enough cameras to catch a ghost.

The receptionist barely glanced at them.

“Two rooms. Adjoining. Per request.”

Auau signed the form without a word.
Save leaned against the counter like it was his stage.

“Adjoining?” he asked, raising a brow.
He didn’t sound surprised.
Just smug.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Auau said, pocketing the keys.
“It’s Thomas’s insurance policy. In case one of us dies in the night.”

“Mm.” Save reached for his card, nails clicking softly against the desk.
“Guess that means we’ll be hearing each other brush our teeth. Very romantic.”

Auau shot him a look sharp enough to draw blood.

Room 907 & 908. Left wing. Top floor.

Auau’s door clicked open first—smooth, clean, minimalist.

The bathroom sat between both rooms, sleek marble and black tile. Shared. No locks on the connecting doors. Just a single sliding one, thin as paper and nowhere near soundproof.

He set his bag down. Tossed his hoodie off. His sweatpants slung low on his hips now, tank underneath clinging with all that tension coiled from the plane.

He heard Save’s door open through the bathroom.

Soft humming.

Then—

The unmistakable sound of soft padding on tile.

Auau paused.

What is he wearing now.

He cracked the bathroom door. Just slightly.

And there he was.

Save, in front of the mirror—shirt halfway off, loose crop tank underneath, brushing teeth in tiny circles, hair fluffed perfectly, that dainty little necklace still hanging down the dip of his collarbone.

No awareness. Full attack.

He caught Auau’s stare in the mirror.

Smirk. Full-blown.

“You watching me get ready for bed?” he said around his toothbrush.
“Kinda creepy, P’au.”

Auau shut the door without a word.

Slid it hard.

From the other side:

“You forgot to say goodnight.”

He growled under his breath, stripping his shirt off as he went for the sink.

It was going to be a long night.

And this mission hadn’t even started yet.

The hotel suite was quiet—except for the soft hum of the espresso machine in the corner.

Auau leaned against the counter, sipping bitter black coffee, eyes still half-lidded with sleep. The tank top from last night clung to his chest, slightly wrinkled. Hair wet from the world’s fastest shower.

He’d barely taken his first sip when the bathroom door slid open.

Save walked out like a sin wrapped in softness—bare legs, loose white sweater slung low off one shoulder, and those damn black shorts. Short, high-cut, and hugging tight around the thighs. But it wasn’t just the cut.

When Save reached up to run his fingers through his fluffy bangs, the shorts rode up.

And that’s when Auau saw it.

Lace. Black. Peeking.

Just the delicate scalloped edge of it, resting high against pale skin. Soft. Wrong. Illegal.

Auau froze mid-sip, eyes locked, brain screaming.

He’s wearing lace panties. Underneath.

Save didn’t acknowledge it.
Of course not.

He wandered toward the counter like nothing was unusual, one hand pulling at the hem of the sweater—which only made it worse. Every tiny movement made the lace flash again.

Auau’s coffee tasted like pure hate now.

Save leaned against the counter next to him, eyes still bleary with sleep but sparkling underneath.

“You look tense, P’au,” he murmured, voice light like powdered sugar.
“Nightmares? Or were you just dreaming about me again?”

Auau didn’t answer.

Save tilted his head, mock sympathy dripping from his voice.

“You could’ve knocked if you needed relief. I was awake.”

Auau set the mug down. Slowly. Controlled.

“Go get dressed, Save.”

“I am dressed.”

He shifted his hips—a subtle roll, just enough to make the lace flash again at the hemline.

Auau didn’t move, but God, he wanted to.

“You think Thomas would let you on the mission with panties on?”

Save’s lips curled.

“He would if he knew how well I shoot in them.”
A pause. Then, dagger-sharp:
“Unless you’re scared they’ll distract you.”

Auau stepped closer. Not touching. But close enough that Save had to look up.

Voice low, near-growl:

“You keep pushing—one day you’re gonna find out what I do to distractions.”

Save’s pupils dilated. Just slightly.

“Looking forward to it.”
He turned, hips swaying just a little more exaggerated now.

As he disappeared back into his room, he called out—

“Be sweet, P’au. I’ll be wearing these all mission.”

Auau finished his coffee in one breath.

And shattered the mug in the sink.

Objective: Tag and trace Volkov’s proxy. Steal the ledger chip. Get out before midnight.

But of course—they walked in like they owned the city.

Auau first—tall, sharp in black, blazer crisp across his shoulders. His glasses glinted under the chandelier light, silver chain against a throat made for threats. Calm. Commanding.

And behind him, Save—a walking, strutting contradiction.

That suit shouldn’t have been regulation. Corset laced tight at the middle, the side cutouts showing just a whisper of skin. Flared legs. Sharp lapels. Heels clicking like a countdown.

Every turn of his hips screamed: I don’t follow orders. I break necks in silk.

Their earpieces crackled.

Thomas’s voice, low and steady:
“Volkov’s man is Viktor Rellin. Grey streak, scar on his jaw. You get one shot to plant the tag. Auau, you lead. Save, follow his mark.”

“Copy,” Auau said.

“Mmh,” Save muttered, biting into a champagne strawberry just to be annoying.

The ballroom glittered with chandeliers and people who sold wars for sport.
Auau scanned the room like a shark. Quiet. Calculated.

Save drifted beside him—like perfume and problems. He winked at a diplomat’s son just to throw off attention. His hand brushed Auau’s lower back—not affection, just pissing him off.

“Stay behind me,” Auau said under his breath.

“You’re not that wide, P’au,” Save whispered, smirking.
“I can see around you just fine.”

Auau gritted his teeth. Kept walking.

Target spotted. Viktor Rellin. Navy tux, martini in hand.

Auau slipped through the crowd, eyes focused, arm moving to bump into Rellin and slide the tag across his belt seam.

It would’ve worked.

Except—Save moved.

He cut sideways. Slid past a dancing couple. Ended up two steps ahead, striding directly toward the target, hips swinging like the devil wore corsets now.

“Save, get back in line,” Auau hissed in his earpiece.

“He likes brunettes,” Save said sweetly, brushing his fingers along Rellin’s arm.
“Figured I’d speed things up.”

Auau froze.

Rellin turned, smiling.

And Save—Goddamn Save—laughed like he belonged here, placing a hand on the man’s chest as he “accidentally” pressed the tag against him mid-flirt.

“We’re done. Out the west corridor,” Auau ordered.
He was already cutting through the crowd, calculating angles.

Save didn’t move.

He was still by Rellin, glass in hand, eyes shimmering with champagne and sin.

“I think he’s about to mention Volkov’s location.”

“That’s not the job—Save, move.”

“You want it clean, P’au. I want it done right.”

“NOW.”

Save tilted his head. Smiled.

And turned his comm off.

Auau nearly slammed the exit door off its hinges.

Auau circled back.

Found Save in a side hallway, cornered by two of Rellin’s men.

His back was to the wall, heels planted, still smiling.
But his eyes were sharp now—focused. Ready.

Auau didn’t speak.

He moved.

Three shots. One blade. One broken wrist. Done.

Blood on his collar, breath sharp. He turned to Save.

“You disobeyed.”

Save grinned, panting slightly, one thigh exposed through the torn slit in his pants.

“You showed up.”

Auau grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him down the corridor.

“You’re not in control. Not on my mission.”

Save leaned in, just barely:

“Then stop looking at me like I am.”

The room was dim—just one overhead light, buzzing faintly.

Viktor Rellin sat cuffed to a chair, blood at his lip, tie undone. Smiling. Still smug, despite the bruises Auau had methodically left along his jawline.

Across the room, Save leaned on the table, arms folded, still in his torn gala suit. That damned corset still laced tight around his waist. Glitter at the corners of his tired eyes. Lace panties still underneath.

He knew it.
Auau knew it.
Rellin suspected it—and made the mistake of trying to find out.

“You don’t belong in a suit like that,” Rellin murmured, voice gravel-slick.
“Bet you’d look better out of it.”

Auau didn’t look up from the ledger chip he was decrypting.

“Talk again, and I take your other thumb.”

Save huffed a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the fire.

“He’s not wrong,” he said idly, walking a slow circle around the room.
“I do look better out of it.”

Second mistake. Rellin’s eyes dropped to Save’s hips, then lower.

“Bet you’d keep a man warm for hours.”

Auau looked up.

Dead. Stare.

Save tilted his head, grinning like the devil’s own problem child.

“He’s really trying, huh?”

“He’s about to stop breathing,” Auau muttered.

Rellin smiled through bloodied teeth.

“Come closer, sweetheart. I’ll make you forget that stiff with the gun.”

Click.

Auau stood.

Gun in hand.

Walked forward slowly. Calm. Sharp. Focused.

“I already have the intel,” he said flatly, raising the gun to Rellin’s forehead.

Save blinked. “Wait, we’re not—”

Auau’s voice low. Dangerous. Possessive:

“The only bed he’ll be warming—
is mine.”

Save’s breath hitched.

BANG.

Blood. Silence.

Rellin slumped in the chair.

Auau holstered the weapon. Turned to Save.

Silence buzzed heavy.

Then he laughed—soft, breathy, flustered, and entirely too satisfied.

“Took you long enough.”

The mission was over.
The target: dead.
The tension: very much alive.

They were in separate rooms now. Just like Thomas ordered.
Two hotel suites. One shared bathroom. Thin connecting walls. And a door left slightly ajar.

Auau was trying to read. Or clean his gun. Or do anything that didn’t involve Save.

But then—

A sound.

Soft.
Delicate.
Barely there.

A breath.

Then a little whimper.

Auau froze.

No.

Nope.

He stared at the open bathroom door between their rooms. Light spilled through. The faintest movement on the other side. Then—

Another sound. A muffled, breathy sigh.

“Save,” he called out, voice rough. Controlled.

No answer.

Just another tiny, deliberate noise. Followed by the unmistakable whisper of satin against skin. Movement. Meant to be heard.

He’s doing this on purpose.

Auau stood. Walked to the bathroom door. Didn’t open it.

Just pressed his palm against the cool wood.

He could feel him in there.

Save. In nothing but those goddamn lace bow stockings he refused to take off.

Moving slow.

Making every breath count.

He wanted to drive him insane.

And he was doing it.

“Go to sleep right fucking now,” Auau growled through the door.

There was a beat. A breath.

Then Save’s voice—soft, sweet, dripping with mischief:

“Make me.”

The door wasn’t even locked.
Of course it wasn’t.

Auau shoved it open—hard enough to make it slam against the wall—and there he was:

Save.

Lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Legs spread just a little. Hair tousled like he’d been tossing in silk sheets. Still in those lace bow stockings, black against pale skin, ribbon tied right at the top of his thigh.

Sweater slipping off one shoulder.

Eyes wide.

Caught—but not sorry.
Not even close.

“Took you long enough,” he whispered, lips parted, glint of wicked beneath the innocence.

Auau didn’t speak.

He moved.

Across the room in two strides, fist catching the sheet and yanking it down. He loomed over Save like violence made flesh, jaw tight, chest rising.

“You think this is a game?” he growled, voice low, strained.

Save looked up at him, lashes fluttering.

“I think you’ve been staring at my thighs all mission,” he purred.
“Might as well make it worth your while.”

Snap.

Self-control broke like a silencer under pressure.

Auau grabbed his wrist, pressed Save back into the mattress—not rough, but possessive. Grounded. Heavy. His other hand slid down, stopping right at the ribbon tied snug to his thigh.

“You want to act like a brat?” he breathed, eyes dark.
“You’d better be ready to beg like one.”

Save smirked, flushed and defiant.

“What makes you think I don’t want to?”

And just like that—order collapsed.

Their war had never been clean.
But tonight?
It was about to get messy.

Auau’s grip on Save’s thigh tightened, just enough to make him gasp—and then he leaned in.

Not a kiss.
Not yet.
His mouth hovered just at the edge of Save’s jaw, warm breath ghosting over flushed skin, a threat wrapped in velvet.

“You dressed like this,” he murmured, voice dark silk over gravel, “knowing exactly what it’d do to me. What did you think would happen?”

Save shivered beneath him, but the smile stayed. Crooked. Daring.
A siren with teeth.

“I was hoping you’d ruin me.”

A beat.
Then Auau laughed—low and rough, like the sound scraped up from somewhere animal.

“Careful what you wish for.”

And then the hand at Save’s thigh slid higher.

Ribbon—gone in one tug.

Save sucked in a breath, hips shifting, mouth parting with some wicked little whimper like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Auau pinned his wrists above his head, leaned closer until their mouths were almost touching.

“You want to be a brat?” he hissed. “Then beg.”

Save’s breath hitched, pupils blown wide, lips trembling between hunger and challenge.

“I want you to make me forget my name.”

Auau’s smile was slow. Dangerous.

“Then scream it.”

The room was dim.
Warm amber light from the bedside lamp spilled over tangled sheets and soft shadows, catching on the faint sheen of sweat that already clung to Save’s chest. The air was thick—heavy with anticipation and the electric hum of something long-denied.

Auau stood at the edge of the bed, breathing like he’d run miles just to get here.
Maybe he had.
Maybe he’d been running from this, from him, for far too long.

And Save?
Save looked like a dream twisted into temptation: sweater hanging off one shoulder like it didn’t want to behave, those thigh-high stockings a line drawn in velvet, inviting defiance. Legs parted—just enough. Lips pink. Waiting.
Begging.

Auau moved fast. Brutal in silence.
One arm caught Save by the wrist, pinning him down like a threat and a promise. The other yanked the sheet away, exposing all that pale skin wrapped in black lace and nerve.

It started on the bed.

Save sprawled like sin incarnate, limbs loose, stockings stretched high, lips parted in a dare. Auau hovered above him like a storm given flesh, eyes wild with the heat of every unspoken thing they’d been swallowing since the first mission, the first sideways glance, the first “you’re annoying” said a little too low.

The first thrust wasn’t sweet.

It was a claim.

Save gasped, back arching so sharply the lace bowed against his thighs. Auau didn’t give him time to breathe—kept his hips driving forward in punishing rhythm, one hand braced against the headboard, the other wrapped around Save’s throat. Not tight. Just present. Just enough.

“Still think you’re in control?” he growled.

Save laughed—gasped, really—but the glint in his eye didn’t fade.

“For someone so angry,” he panted, “you sure know how to hit all the right spots.”

So Auau shifted the angle. Deeper. Crueler. And that shut Save up.

For a moment.

When the moans started again—raw, high, real—Auau yanked him up by the waist and dragged him off the bed. Save stumbled, legs shaking, only to be bent over the nearest surface.

The table.

Wood cool against his chest, Auau behind him in seconds, no pause, no mercy. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the room. Fingers dug into hips. A sharp bite to his shoulder left a mark—territorial, primal. Save screamed, and it wasn’t words anymore.

Just need.

The table creaked. Rocked. Nearly slid across the floor with every thrust.

Then: hands in his hair. Yanked back so their eyes met in the reflection of the window.

“Look at yourself,” Auau hissed. “Look how wrecked you are.”

Save whimpered. And that was new. That was real. That was submission blooming from defiance.

Auau flipped him again.

This time—on the floor.
One knee between Save’s thighs, the other pushing them wider. No grace. Just chaos. Save clung to him like drowning, head thrown back, thighs trembling from overstimulation.

But Auau wasn’t done.

He took him again—slow now, cruel in how deliberate it was. Rolling his hips deep enough to make Save choke on the sound that left his throat.

“Please—” he rasped.

And that was it.
That was everything.

Because Save never begged.

Auau kissed him then—bloody, bruising, like an apology and a punishment.

Save was gasping. Face down, ass up, wrists still bound behind his back, slick and used and trembling—but asking for more with every breathless arch of his spine.

And Auau?
Auau looked down at him like he wanted to tear him apart.

But instead, he grabbed Save’s hips, lined himself up again, and slammed back in with a groan that was half fury, half prayer.

“God—look at you.”

His voice was rough. Wrecked. Like it hurt to speak but he had to.

“No matter how much I try to hate you…”
A sharp thrust.
Save yelled.

“…you always look so fuckin’ pretty taking my cock.”

Save moaned—shattered, needy, almost smug—and that only made it worse.

Auau leaned down, chest flush to Save’s back, mouth pressed to his ear.

“I should leave you like this,” he growled. “Used. Ruined. Whimpering my name into the sheets.”

Another thrust. Deeper. Slower. Cruel.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Save’s answer was a broken gasp and a roll of his hips, back into him, begging without words.

Auau snapped his hips forward—hard—and kept it going.

Fast. Filthy. Relentless.

“You make me fucking crazy.”
Thrust.
“You never shut up, never listen—”
Thrust.
“But when I’ve got you like this?”

A hand tangled in Save’s hair, yanking his head back.

“You’re quiet. Sweet. Mine.”

Save moaned so loud it could’ve passed for a sob.

“You don’t deserve this,” Auau snarled. “You don’t deserve to feel this good.”

But his hand was stroking Save’s cock again, fast, knowing exactly how to break him.

“You’re just a brat with a pretty face and a tighter hole than your damn morals—fuck—”

Save was crying now. From the pleasure, from the pressure, from being so full of a man who hated him just enough to make it personal.

“You gonna come again for me, sweetheart?” Auau hissed. “Gonna make a mess all over yourself while I’m still inside you?”

Save choked on a moan.

“Yeah, you are. You always break for me.”

And when Save finally did—loud, messy, undone—Auau held him tight, buried deep, whispering one last, quiet, vicious truth

Save was trembling.

Every nerve had been lit, frayed, and left humming. His breath came in shallow pants, chest rising and falling fast, face flushed, lashes wet. Skin slick, thighs still twitching, body marked in every place Auau had touched, claimed, taken.

But it was the silence that made him shiver now.

Until hands—warm, steady—slid around him, pulling him close.

“Hey,” Auau murmured, voice low, hoarse, the edges soft now. “Hey, baby. Come here.”

Save melted. His muscles went loose at the sound of that word, a whimper catching in his throat as Auau lifted him, arms wrapping around him with care that felt almost obscene after everything they’d just done.

He pressed Save’s head to his chest, one hand stroking slowly down his back, the other cradling the back of his neck.

“You did so good for me,” he whispered, lips brushing against sweat-damp hair. “Took it all like my perfect little baby.”

Save whimpered—tiny, broken—but not from pain. From the overload. From the way Auau said baby like it was sacred.

“I… I can’t move,” he breathed.

“That’s okay.” Auau rocked him gently, pulling a blanket around them both. “You don’t have to. I’ve got you now.”

He kissed his temple. Slow. Lingering.

Save’s fingers clutched at his side, the last of his strength used to hold on.

“You didn’t even like me,” he mumbled, eyes barely open.

Auau chuckled softly, his breath ruffling Save’s hair.

“Didn’t stop me from wanting you. Doesn’t stop me now.”

A pause. Then:

“I’ll run you a bath in a bit. Get you clean. Then we’re gonna lie down, and I’m gonna hold you all night.”

Save smiled—small, dazed, but real.

“You’re soft after you destroy me.”

Auau pulled him closer, tucking his chin over Save’s head.

“I’m only soft for you, baby.”

And in that quiet, with the afterglow thick around them, Save let go completely—safe, loved, and completely owned.

The water ran hot, steam curling like breath through the quiet room. The sound of it filled the space where words didn’t need to exist.

Save sat on the edge of the tub, limp, wrapped in a towel and held up mostly by Auau’s hands. His thighs were marked, trembling still from the aftermath, but his eyes were half-lidded with that calm, dazed softness that only came after being thoroughly and completely wrecked.

Auau knelt in front of him. His sleeves were rolled up, his jaw clenched—not with tension, but with focus. His touch was reverent now. Like every inch of skin he’d bruised and bitten was now a temple he had to clean with careful hands.

“Water’s ready,” he murmured. “Come on, baby. In slow.”

He helped Save slide in—both hands under his arms, guiding him gently into the heat. Save hissed at first, overstimulated nerves flaring, but Auau steadied him with a hand on his chest, palm flat against skin.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Save sunk into the water with a sigh, head lolling back, eyes fluttering closed.

Auau moved behind him, climbing into the tub in just his boxers, legs on either side of Save’s hips, cradling him back into his chest. The steam clung to them, warm and soft, like the world itself had quieted for them.

“You’re shaking,” Auau said, voice near Save’s ear, low and intimate.

“Still coming down,” Save whispered, letting his hands float on the surface.

“I know.” Auau kissed his shoulder—right over a bite mark he’d left. “Let me help.”

He reached for the washcloth. Soaked it. Lathered it with the faint scent of vanilla and something floral that definitely wasn’t his usual. It had to be Save’s. Of course it was.

He started with the neck. Down over the collarbones. Across the chest. Slow, circular motions—no rush, just care. He wiped away the sweat, the mess, the bruises where he could, lingering at the spots where Save had gasped the loudest earlier.

“You’re so good,” he murmured between strokes. “So fucking good for me.”

Save made a soft noise—not quite a word, not quite a moan. Just something content. Something real.

Auau kept going. Washed down his arms. Kissed the inside of his wrist.

Then—down his stomach. Careful, respectful even in the way he handled the more sensitive spots. He cupped water in his hand and let it pour over him again and again, rinsing him with a kind of gentle devotion that almost didn’t match what they’d done hours before.

But maybe that was the point.

When he reached the insides of Save’s thighs, he hesitated.

“You okay?”

Save nodded. “Yeah. Touch me.”

And so he did—gently, lovingly, fingers soft where they’d once been rough. He cleaned everything. Every inch. Like he was erasing pain and leaving nothing but love behind.

Afterward, Auau helped him out, dried him with the same reverence. He didn’t rush. Just wrapped him in a warm towel, kissed his damp hair, and whispered:

“You’re mine, baby. All cleaned up. All mine.”

They curled up in bed, limbs tangled under soft sheets. Save tucked against his chest, forehead to his neck.

And right before sleep claimed them both, Save whispered:

“You gonna ruin me like that again?”

Auau chuckled, low and fond.

“Only if I get to clean you up after.”

It started changing slowly the morning after.

Save woke up alone—only to find a steaming mug of his favorite coffee sitting on the bedside table. No note. No “good morning.” Just the quiet ghost of a gesture. He smirked, stretched, and drank it while still sore from the night before.

But things shifted on the next mission.

Save suited up like normal, ready to go, only to find Auau waiting by the transport with arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he wasn’t obviously watching him.

“You’re not on this op,” Save said, one brow raised.

“Changed that,” Auau muttered. “Command reassigned me.”

Save blinked. “Why?”

Auau didn’t meet his eyes.

“They shouldn’t be sending you in alone.”

From that point forward, Auau was always there. Even on low-level recon. Even when he had no reason to be. Every debrief, every call, every map table—it was like he was tethered to Save’s side by invisible wire.

And when Save tried to tease him?

“Oh, what, now you’re my bodyguard?”

“Shut up,” Auau muttered. “You’re reckless.”

“You didn’t mind me being reckless on your d—”

“Finish that sentence,” Auau said, jaw tight, ears pink.

On the field, the shift was impossible to ignore.

Save would brush past another operative and Auau’s eyes would snap to him.
Too close. Too casual. Too much.

One night, after a bar mission, a target leaned a little too close to Save during intel extraction.

Auau didn’t say a word.

But the second they were alone, he grabbed Save by the collar, slammed him against the wall—not to hurt him, not to fight—but to remind him.

“You let them touch you like that again,” Auau breathed, voice low and dark, “and I’ll fuck you in the security room just to remind everyone who you belong to.”

Save grinned, breathless. “Jealous?”

“Not jealous,” Auau said, dragging his mouth along Save’s jaw. “Territorial.”

At night, the armor cracked further.

Auau started carrying things for him. Small stuff—Save’s gloves, his sidearm, the commlink he always forgot. He’d never admit it, but Save caught him checking his vitals after every op. Reading mission reports just to see if there were any bruises he hadn’t caused.

One night, Save got hit. Not serious, but a little too close.

And Auau lost it.

He patched him up in silence—eyes furious, hands too gentle.

“You’re mad I got hurt?” Save asked, wincing as the antiseptic stung.

“I’m mad you keep acting like you don’t matter,” Auau muttered, not meeting his gaze. “Like I wouldn’t—”

He stopped himself.

Save’s voice went soft. “Wouldn’t what?”

A pause.

Then, quiet, broken:

“Like I wouldn’t come apart if I lost you.”

It happened fast. Too fast.

The op was clean on paper. In and out. Recon, data grab, no big threat. Auau wasn’t even assigned. He’d fought to be there, fought command, made up a reason to tag along—and thank God he did.

Because three minutes in, the comms went silent.

And Save vanished.

One moment: his voice crackling in Auau’s ear, teasing something dumb, something flirty—
The next: nothing.
Not static. Not noise. Just gone.

⸻

They told him to wait.

Protocol. Debrief. Calm down, soldier.

But Auau wasn’t a soldier in that moment.
He was a loaded gun with no trigger discipline.

He smashed through the outpost’s doors in full gear, ignoring every order, every warning, every protest. “We’re handling it,” they said.

He didn’t believe them.

He knew how people treated Save—like he was disposable. Just another asset. Too cocky. Too wild.

Too soft, under all that bite.

And if anyone touched him—
If anyone laid a hand on that body, those thighs, those eyes—
They wouldn’t live to regret it.

⸻

When they found the facility, it was already on fire.

Because Auau had set it on fire.

Floor by floor. Blood and smoke. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t take prisoners. He moved like a storm, like death in combat boots, tearing through guards like they were paper.

And when he finally reached the cell—

When he saw Save, cuffed and bruised, shirt torn, lips split—

Everything stopped.

For just a second.
Because Save looked up.
And whispered:

“…you came.”

⸻

“Of course I came.”

Auau was at his side in a blink, breaking restraints like they were nothing, gathering Save in his arms like he might disappear again.

Save was barely conscious, head lolling against his shoulder, voice hoarse.

“You’re not… supposed to be here.”

“Don’t care.” Auau’s voice cracked. “Don’t say that. Ever again.”

Save gave a weak, crooked smile. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.”

Auau looked down at him, covered in bruises, in pain, still smirking through the blood.

And something in him broke.

He pressed their foreheads together, breathing hard. “I’ll kill them all.”

“You already did,” Save whispered.

“Not enough,” Auau said. “It’ll never be enough if they touch you again.”

Back at base, Auau didn’t leave Save’s side. Not for food. Not for sleep. Not for anything.

He sat by his bed all night, one hand resting gently on Save’s, thumb tracing faint circles like he couldn’t stop.

At some point, Save stirred.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he murmured. “Throwing everything away for me.”

Auau looked up, red-eyed, hollowed out, but burning.

“I can’t not,” he said.

And then, quietly. Broken.

“You’re the only thing that makes me feel real.”

It started with silence.

Not the heavy kind. Not the charged, post-mission kind. Just… quiet.

Auau sat on the edge of the bed, legs planted, hands laced in front of him. Still in his gear. Still tense. Watching.

Save sat across the room on the window ledge, curled up in one of Auau’s shirts. It swallowed him. Dwarfed him. The collar slipped off his shoulder.

He hadn’t spoken much since the rescue. He smiled when he needed to. He made jokes, acted fine. But there was something missing.

Auau noticed.

Of course he did.

“Save,” he said quietly.

Nothing.

Then—

“I’m not gonna break you, you know.”

Save flinched.

“Too late,” he muttered. Not bitter. Just… honest.

⸻

Auau stood.

Crossed the space slow, careful, like Save might bolt.

“You’re not broken.”

Save laughed—short, sharp, watery. “Aren’t I?”

“You’re breathing.” Auau knelt in front of him, resting his hand on Save’s knee. “You’re still here.”

Save looked away.

“I’m not used to being wanted after the damage,” he whispered. “Usually they ruin me and leave. That’s the deal. That’s what I’m for.”

Auau’s breath hitched.

“That’s not what you’re for.”

Save finally met his eyes. And there it was—the fear. The naked truth. Vulnerability stripped down and trembling.

“I don’t know how to do this if you stay,” he said. “I don’t know how to be this soft and still survive.”

Auau exhaled, slow, steady. Reached up, cupped his face with both hands.

“Then I’ll teach you,” he said. “I’ll be here. Every time. After every mission. After every fall. You don’t have to run.”

Save’s lip trembled. His hands shook.

And then he whispered it—so quietly it almost didn’t exist:

“I think I wanna love you.”

Auau froze.

Then, without a word, he pulled him close, wrapped Save into his chest, kissed the side of his head like it was holy.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “You always were.”

The room was full of quiet movement. A mission briefing had just wrapped, and people were dispersing. There was still a buzz of voices, the clatter of gear being sorted, and the low hum of comms still active.

Auau stood near the table, sleeves rolled to the elbows, scanning a datapad.

Still. Calm. Focused.

And then—

“P’au?”

A gentle voice, small and sweet, threaded through the background noise like a ribbon.

His gaze lifted immediately. The datapad lowered. His entire attention shifted—no hesitation, no pause.

There stood Save, at the edge of the doorway. Hands curled slightly in his sweater sleeves, lips curved in that quiet smile he reserved just for Auau. His eyes were bright with something unspoken. A little sparkle. A little need.

Auau’s face changed—just the slightest lift at the corners of his mouth, the kind of softness only Save ever pulled out of him.

“Come here,” he said, voice low and warm, like a secret. Not a command. An invitation.

Save crossed the room without hurry, slipping into the space beside him like he belonged there. Auau’s arm slid around his waist without thought, palm resting gently on Save’s back.

“Everything alright?” Auau asked.

Save nodded. “Just… you looked far away for a second. I missed you.”

Auau’s thumb moved in slow circles against his side. “I’m right here.”

And that was it. That’s what Save loved. Not declarations. Not dramatics.

Just Auau’s presence. Steady. Grounding.

There were moments—quiet ones—when Save’s whole being lit up with joy. A snort at a dumb joke. Bare feet tapping the floor while he danced in the kitchen. A hiccuped laugh as he read a message from Thomas aloud, shaking his head.

Auau, always quiet nearby, would glance up from whatever he was doing—cleaning a weapon, reading a file—and just…watch.

Watching Save laugh was his favorite pastime.

“You’re staring,” Save would say, that teasing smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful when you’re happy,” Auau would reply without missing a beat, no blush, no hesitation. Just fact.

That made Save flush deeper than anything else.

Sometimes Save would curl up in the armchair, arms hugged around his knees, watching the rain outside. He didn’t need to say anything—Auau just knew.

He’d walk over, kneel beside him, and rest a hand over Save’s.

“Want to sit with me, baby?”

And Save would crawl into his lap, cheek pressed to his chest, content and safe.

“You’re warm,” he’d mumble.

Auau would hum. “You always are when you’re close.”

It was that easy.

Save was soft and silly and full of light. And Auau? He loved him that way. Protected it. Cherished it. Not because he thought Save was fragile—but because Save made the world feel good again.

Everyone around them noticed it.

The way Auau spoke to Save differently.
Not louder. Not firmer. Never sharp.
Always soft. Always gentle. Always careful, like he was holding something sacred every time their eyes met.

It didn’t matter what was happening—whether Auau was giving quiet instructions, reviewing reports, even dressing down a careless recruit—if Save stepped into the room, something in him changed. Just a little.

A touch of warmth in his voice. A softness in the set of his jaw. A quiet, unshakable calm that only one person ever brought out of him.

Even when he was mid-sentence, if Save approached, Auau’s eyes would find him instinctively. And when he spoke next, his tone would shift—just subtly, but enough that everyone around him noticed.

It was tender.
Low, measured, like a whisper meant only for Save even when others were around.

He’d tilt his head slightly, his voice barely above a murmur.
“You okay?”
“You sleep enough?”
“Come stand with me.”

Just those little things. But from Auau? They were everything.

And Save—he’d always respond with that smile. That tiny little grin with his lips curled shyly and his eyes squinting up like it was the sun beaming straight into his chest.

And Auau would smile back.

Not the rare kind. Not a smirk. Not a quirk of the lip.
No—a full, soft smile, quiet and small but real. One that crept up like it surprised even him, like Save pulled it out of him with nothing but a look.

Because when Auau looked at Save?

He didn’t see a soldier. He didn’t see a mission partner.

He saw his boy. His peace. His constant.

His reason to speak gently.
His reason to smile more often.
His reason to feel like the world could be good again—even just a little.

Because Save was his center.

His boy.
His warmth.
His joy.

The sheets were warm. The lights low. The door locked.

No weapons. No missions. No noise.

Just them.

Save lay back against the pillows, half-hidden under the covers, bare chest rising with each breath. His eyes were wide—but not with fear.
With wonder.

“You okay?” Auau asked, voice rough, but quiet. Gentle.

Save nodded. Then shook his head. Then laughed softly. “No. I’m not okay. I’m freaking out a little.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Save looked up at him, cheeks pink, hair a mess, smile trembling. “I want you to touch me like I’m not made to be used.”

And that—
That shattered something deep in Auau’s chest.

He knelt onto the bed, crawling over Save slowly, like a storm finally learning how to be rain.

“I’ve never done this like this,” Save whispered, eyes locked on his. “Not just… slow. Not with someone who looks at me like you do.”

“How do I look at you?” Auau murmured, brushing his nose against Save’s.

“Like I’m yours.”

“You are.”

⸻

Clothes were removed in pauses.

Not stripped. Not rushed. Just peeled back, reverent, as if every inch of Save’s skin was being unwrapped like a secret Auau had waited years to know.

Save trembled beneath him, breath catching every time fingers ghosted over his ribs, his hips, the curve of his thighs. Not from fear—from emotion. From the overwhelming weight of being seen.

And Auau—he kissed everywhere.

Not just the mouth.

He kissed his collarbone. His wrists. The inside of his knee. Places no one had ever kissed before. Places that made Save laugh and gasp and bite his lip to keep from crying.

“Don’t hide from me,” Auau whispered, pressing a kiss under his ear. “Let me see all of it.”

“I’m scared,” Save breathed.

Auau met his eyes.

“Me too,” he said. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

When Auau finally moved inside him, it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t a claiming. It wasn’t a battle.

It was coming home.

Save wrapped his legs around Auau’s waist, arms clinging to his shoulders like he’d fall apart without the contact. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, but he smiled through it. Smiled like it hurt to feel so much.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, and his voice cracked. “God, you feel so good. I want you everywhere. All of you.”

Auau groaned, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m right here, baby. You’ve got me.”

Slow, deep thrusts. Fingers tangled. Chests pressed tight.

No teasing. No dirty talk. Just Save whispering over and over:

“Please don’t stop.”
“You make me feel real.”
“You make me feel like I’m worth something.”

And Auau, eyes wet, kissing his jaw, saying:

“You’re worth everything.”

⸻

When they finished, it wasn’t about the peak.

It was about Save collapsing into his arms, burying his face in Auau’s neck, breathing uneven, murmuring “I love you” so soft it was almost soundless.

And Auau just held him. Stroked his back. Pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I love you too.”

And neither of them ran this time.

It happened innocently enough.

Save was laughing with a medic—some cute new recruit who didn’t know any better. He touched Save’s arm, made him laugh, leaned in too close.

Auau saw it from across the base.

His hand tightened around his water bottle. The plastic cracked.

A week later?
New orders.

“Auau’s been transferred to Logistics & Field Interception?” someone asked, confused.

“Isn’t that Save’s division?”

“…yep.”

⸻

Everywhere Save Goes, There’s Auau

Need to spar?
Auau’s your partner.

Training drills?
Auau’s leading them now.

Recon run at 3AM in sub-zero cold?
Auau’s right there beside Save, pretending this is just “efficient mission strategy.”

Everyone else knows.
They don’t say it—but they know.

You don’t flirt with Save. You don’t touch Save. You don’t even look too long at Save. Unless you want to get pinned to a wall by a man with murder in his eyes and softness in his heart for exactly one person.

⸻

Save? He’s eating it up.

At first he teased.

“Oh? Following me now?” he smirked, sitting on the edge of the desk, legs swinging.

“Making sure you don’t get yourself killed,” Auau muttered.

“And here I thought you just missed my thighs.”

Auau looked him dead in the eye. “Every second you’re out of my sight, I miss all of you.”

Save choked on air.

“…okay, rude.”

But later, alone, when Save is curled against him in bed, bare skin pressed to warm sheets, he whispers it:

“I like when you follow me.”

“Yeah?” Auau murmurs, voice hoarse from sleep and too much need.

“Means you’re mine.” Save kisses his shoulder. “Means I’m safe.”

And Auau wraps an arm around him tighter.

“You’ve always been mine,” he says, kissing the crown of his head. “I just didn’t know how to keep you before.”

It was harmless.
Of course it was harmless.

Kong had always been like that—friendly, flirty, shiny with confidence and charm. Save knew it meant nothing. Thomas knew it meant nothing. Kong flirted with chairs.

But Auau?
Auau didn’t know.

So when Kong leaned too close during the briefing, brushed Save’s arm and winked, whispering something like, “Careful, pretty thing—those boots won’t save you from making me fall,”

Auau’s entire soul left his body.

He didn’t even say anything.

Just… stared.
Expression blank.
Mouth tight.
Fist clenched around a pen that snapped in half under the pressure.

Save found him twenty minutes later, standing alone on the balcony, arms crossed, staring out like the city had personally betrayed him.

“Hey,” Save said gently, coming up behind him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ah,” Save nodded. “So definitely not fine.”

Auau didn’t answer.

Save moved closer, arms wrapping around his waist from behind, resting his chin on Auau’s back and gently kissing his back.

“What’s wrong baby?”

Silence.

“You know he flirts with everyone, right? He’s literally engaged to Thomas. He hits on vending machines for fun.”

Still nothing.

“Babe,” Save whispered, soft and sing-song, lips brushing his ear. “Are you pouting?”

“No.”

“You are.” He grinned, moving to cradle Auau’s cheeks in both hands. “You’re pouting like a kicked puppy.”

“I’m not—”

Save leaned in and kissed his nose.

Auau blinked.

Then Save kissed the corner of his mouth.

And then—softly, barely above a whisper—he said:

“You’re my only one. Don’t make me say it louder in front of kong, he’ll just flirt again to piss you off.”

Auau’s face flushed red. Completely betrayed by his own ears.

“…He still flirted with you though.”

“Yeah,” Save laughed. “But he’s cute when he is like that and you’re cuter when you’re grumpy about it.”

He pulled Auau into his arms fully now, warm and smug and completely wrapped around him like a weighted blanket of affection.

And Auau?

He melted.

Because it was hard to sulk when Save kept calling him baby and petting his hair like he wasn’t a weapon built to kill.

Auau sighed deeply, his hands instinctively cupping Save’s small back. “You make me feel like… like a different person. When you’re near me.”

“You already are a different person,” Save said softly, looking up at him with a smile that could break Auau’s heart. “You’re the man who loves me. That’s all I need.”

Auau’s heart skipped a beat, his arms tightening around Save, pulling him closer.

Save was his. And that was the only truth he needed in his life.

Save had just come back from a mission briefing, looking completely exhausted. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes half-lidded from the long hours.

Auau noticed immediately.

“Baby?” he murmured, his voice soft, quieter than usual. Save looked up, blinking, still not fully awake.

“Hm?”

“I need you to rest,” Auau said, his hands lightly touching Save’s shoulders, guiding him towards a chair. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, little one.”

Save’s brain momentarily short-circuited at the nickname. The soft, possessive way Auau said it made his heart flutter, like being cared for by a thousand delicate, tender hands.

“Little one?” Save repeated, his voice teasing, but with a hint of softness in his own. “You trying to baby me now?”

Auau only nodded, lips curling in the faintest smile as he helped Save settle down. “You’ve been working too much. Let me take care of you, baby.”

And that was it.

From that moment on, the nicknames came slowly, like a steady, irresistible tide.

“How’s my sunshine doing today?” Auau asked, one morning as he made breakfast. Save had just woken up, his hair a mess, eyes still a little puffy from sleep.

“Sunshine?” Save scoffed lightly, though the way his cheeks flushed betrayed him. “You’re the one acting like the sun around here, glowing like you’re about to burn me.”

Auau just smirked, handing him a cup of coffee. “It’s cute when you get flustered, my love.”

My love. The words rolled off Auau’s tongue with so much ease that it made Save’s stomach twist into soft knots. He couldn’t believe how easily Auau could make him feel so loved and cherished at the same time.

It wasn’t just in private anymore.

The next mission briefing was… awkward.

Save had made a casual joke—laughing as he told one of the newer recruits how his favorite gun was always the one with the most kickback. Nothing serious. Nothing flirty. Just Save being Save: sweet, unbothered, chatty.

But the new guy? He leaned in too close. Way too close.
His grin lingered. His eyes swept a little too low. And he didn’t back off even when Save politely shifted.

Across the room, Auau saw it all.

And the room may as well have dropped ten degrees.

Save stood up to leave, brushing nonexistent dust off his pants—and before he could take more than two steps, Auau was already there, closing the space between them like gravity. No hesitation.

He reached for Save’s hand. Pulled him into his side, snug against his body. Arm draped around him with zero shame, like he’d done it a thousand times. And then—right there in front of everyone—he leaned down, breath brushing Save’s ear.

“Stay close, baby.”

The silence was instant.
Save froze. Eyes wide. Face already going pink.

And behind them—

“Baby!?”
Thomas nearly dropped his tablet.

Kong’s jaw hit the floor. “Oh my godddddd, not him being a whipped little freak in public.”

Por was literally gagging into his sleeve. “I’m gonna throw myself into traffic. I liked the mysterious tough guy act—now he’s all ‘baby’?”

Teetee dramatically clutched his chest. “It’s like watching a wolf nuzzle a golden retriever. I’m sick.”

Pat just covered his face. “He didn’t even blink. He said it like it was normal. Normal!”

Ryujin, deadpan: “We have lost a real one, people. Auau is GONE.”

Back in front of the squad, Save whispered, stunned, “Baby?”

Auau turned to look at him with the softest, most completely-in-love expression imaginable.

“Yeah, baby.”

And then he just walked off, hand in hand with a stunned, bright-red Save—casual as ever—leaving six soldiers behind trying not to choke on their collective secondhand embarrassment.

⸻

“This is going to be insufferable,” Thomas groaned.
“It already is,” Kong hissed.
“They were making heart eyes at the vending machine yesterday,” Por muttered.
“And now this,” Ryujin nodded solemnly. “The fall of a legend.”

But when they looked again—Auau was still walking, still holding Save close, murmuring something only Save could hear, and Save? He was glowing. All warm and pink and happy.

And as much as they groaned, gagged, and pretended to hate it…

They’d never seen either of them look so whole.

The next time Save looked up at Auau, he could see the adoration in those eyes—no more masks. No more walls.

“Say it again,” Save whispered.

“Say what?” Auau murmured back, his voice as soft as the way he held Save’s face in his hands.

“Say it,” Save repeated, the words like a secret he had been holding in for a long time.

Auau paused, then smiled and whispered, “You’re my everything.”

Save melted into the words, his heart expanding in a way it never had before.

“You’re my everything too,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around Auau’s neck, holding him like he was the only thing that mattered.

The ocean whispered behind them, waves curling soft against the sand. The wind was warm, brushing Save’s hair gently back from his face as he held on to Auau like the world might shift beneath him.

Auau didn’t let go.

He tucked one hand beneath Save’s jaw, thumb brushing along his cheek, slow and reverent. His eyes were calm—not cold like they used to be, not guarded. Just… full. Brimming. Overflowing with the kind of love he never let anyone see.

“Do you know what you are to me?” Auau whispered, his forehead resting against Save’s.

Save blinked, already teary, his fingers clutching lightly at the fabric of Auau’s shirt.

“You’re the first time I ever believed in peace,” Auau said, his voice almost breaking. “You’re the only thing that makes me want to stay, even when everything else feels like smoke.”

Save’s breath hitched. A tear slipped down his cheek, quick and quiet.

“You’re my calm,” Auau continued, kissing the trail the tear left behind. “My heart. My home. And every time you look at me like I matter, I forget how to breathe.”

Save couldn’t stop the tears now. They came slowly, silently, falling from lashes already damp. He smiled even as he cried, because it was too much and not enough. Because he had waited his whole life to be seen like this.

“I love you,” Auau whispered, his voice trembling for the first time Save had ever heard. “More than I ever thought I could love anything.”

Save gasped, choked on a soft sob, and Auau caught him. Arms wrapped firm around him, pulling him close, grounding him. He kissed each tear as it came, slow and gentle, like he was memorizing the taste of every emotion Save couldn’t say out loud.

“You’re okay,” Auau murmured into his hair. “I’ve got you. Always.”

They stood like that on the beach, wrapped in each other while the sun began to dip below the horizon—orange and gold light spilling across their shadows.

And for the first time in either of their lives, it didn’t feel like a war.
It felt like coming home.

Flashback: The Moment Auau Realized He Was In Love

It hadn’t been dramatic.

There was no lightning strike, no thunderclap in his chest. Just a quiet moment.

It was late.
The kind of late where the sky had gone from black to soft grey, and the world held its breath between night and dawn.

Auau had come back to the base early. He wasn’t even sure why. Something had just… pulled him. Told him to check on Save.

The hallway was quiet, the mission rooms dim. But the light was still on in the corner office where Save had been holed up all week.

Auau pushed the door open gently.

Save was there. Alone. Slumped over a stack of mission files, blue light from his tablet casting harsh shadows under his eyes. His knees were tucked up into the chair, hoodie sleeves pulled down over his hands. His mouth was pressed into a tight line, but—

He was crying.

Silently. No gasps, no sobs. Just tears.
Fat and constant, slipping down flushed cheeks without pause.
His eyes were red, nose pink, lashes clumped and wet.

And still—he was typing. Still working. Still fighting like he hadn’t broken days ago.

Auau stood there frozen for a moment.

He’d never seen Save like that.

Not loud. Not smiling. Not bouncing off walls with too much energy and not enough sleep. Just… soft. Tired. Fragile. Cracking quietly in the dark like he didn’t think anyone would notice.

And something broke inside Auau.

Not the usual snap of rage or sharpness. This was deeper. It was a shift.

All he could think was:

He shouldn’t have to be this strong all the time.
He shouldn’t have to be alone in this.
I want to protect him.
I want to keep him safe.
I want to give him peace.

⸻

He crossed the room without a word.

Gently pulled the tablet out of Save’s hands. Didn’t say anything when Save startled, tried to blink the tears away, opening his mouth to stammer out an apology like he was in trouble.

Auau just wrapped his arms around him. Tight. Steady. No questions. No judgment.

And Save broke.

He collapsed into Auau’s chest, fists gripping his shirt like a lifeline. The tears came faster then—small, desperate sounds slipping out between breaths.

Auau held him like he was made of glass, pressing his lips to Save’s hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, barely audible. “You don’t have to be strong right now. I’ve got you.”

That was the night he started calling Save baby.
Quietly. Tenderly. Just once.

And Save didn’t flinch. He just nodded into his chest and let himself be held.

They were just walking.

No mission. No gear. Just two boys in in love hand in hand taking a walks scuffing the pavement as the sun started to dip into golden hour. The streets were calm, the city mellow in a rare, peaceful lull.

Save was talking—something about how Por nearly blew up the coffee machine again trying to “optimize” it—but Auau wasn’t really responding. He was listening, sure, but in that quiet, attentive way he always did. Not with words. With presence.

And then Save drifted.

Just slightly. A step too far toward the edge of the sidewalk, where the traffic hummed by lazily.

Before Save even registered it, there was a hand on his waist—firm, certain, and gently possessive.

He blinked as Auau pulled him inward, switching their positions without saying a word.

Now Save was walking on the inside, protected from the road by Auau’s broad frame. Like always.

“You’re doing it again,” Save said, glancing up at him with a small, crooked smile.

“Doing what?”

“That sidewalk thing. I’m not gonna get run over, you know.”

Auau didn’t look at him. Just kept walking, one hand still resting lightly against Save’s lower back, thumb brushing in lazy circles over the cotton of his hoodie.

“You don’t need to get it,” he said simply. “Just stay here.”

“Protective much?”

“Always.”

Save huffed a laugh, but his cheeks flushed a little. Warm. Quietly delighted.

He took Auau’s hand as they walked, fingers threading together, small and certain.

Auau didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

He just tightened his grip. And kept Save close—on the inside, where nothing could touch him.

Not while Auau was around.

Later that afternoon, back in their shared room, Save curled up on the bed—laptop open, mug of tea in hand. Auau sat nearby at the table, cleaning his gun in his usual methodical silence.

From across the room, Save hummed. Not a song. Just a soft, happy little sound under his breath as he swayed slightly, brushing his teeth or scrolling through files or—sometimes—doing nothing at all.

Auau wouldn’t admit he liked it.

But every time Save hummed, he stopped what he was doing. Just for a second. Just to listen.

He caught himself smiling one time. Not a big one—just the corner of his mouth tugging up. He turned quickly, pretended to focus on reassembling his rifle, but Save saw it in the mirror.

“You like my humming,” Save said, smug, grinning around a toothbrush.

“It’s awful,” Auau replied without missing a beat.

But his voice was soft. And Save’s grin only got wider.

⸻

That evening, they ended up in the transport truck, heading out to another outpost with the squad. Save, running low on sleep and too many stim drinks, ended up curled sideways on the bench. At some point, without even noticing, he crawled his way into Auau’s lap.

Auau didn’t move.

He just adjusted slightly, pulling Save closer, one arm wrapped loosely around his waist. His fingers moved on their own—slow circles against Save’s back, stroking through the fabric of his hoodie.

Pat looked over, opened his mouth to make a comment—

And saw the look on Auau’s face.

Soft. Guarded. Deadly if tested.

He closed his mouth.

Kong leaned over and whispered, “They’re getting worse, huh?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Insufferable.”

But they all looked away with small smiles.

Because seeing Auau that gentle? That human? That in love?

It was something they were all secretly rooting for.

⸻

That night, in their room again, Save stood in the bathroom, humming again as he brushed his teeth, drowning in one of Auau’s oversized hoodies. It went past his thighs. His hair was messy, eyes heavy with sleep.

Auau leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You always watch me like that?” Save asked, rinsing his mouth.

“Only when you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like mine,” Auau said simply.

Save flushed, but his grin was sleepy-sweet. He stepped forward, leaned into his chest, and mumbled, “You’re disgusting. I love you.”

“Mm. I love you more.”

They climbed into bed. Save curled into Auau’s chest, limbs tucked close, fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone.

⸻

Sometime in the middle of the night, Save stirred.

Auau was talking in his sleep again.

“Save…” he murmured, soft and low, voice husky with dreams. “Stay.”

Save smiled in the dark, heart too full, and pressed a kiss to Auau’s bare shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t tell Auau in the morning.

But he held him a little tighter than usual. And Auau didn’t ask why.

There was always noise. There always would be.

The world didn’t slow down for Auau. Missions, orders, the constant tension of the world on his shoulders. There was always someone yelling, always the rush of adrenaline, the pressure to move, to act, to fight.

But it wasn’t the same anymore.

Because now, when everything felt too loud—too much—there was a place he could go. A quiet corner of his mind where everything felt still. Everything made sense.

It was when he looked at Save. When Save smiled at him, or laughed, or just reached for his hand, Auau could feel it—the calm. The peace that filled up the cracks in his soul he didn’t even realize were there.

Save wasn’t loud. He wasn’t demanding. He didn’t ask for anything Auau wasn’t already ready to give.

Save was his anchor. His safe place. The silence that softened the violence in his life.

There was no one else like him. No one else who made him feel this… whole.

Auau had always been good at pushing people away, at keeping things distant, at keeping his heart locked up behind walls. But with Save? It was different. He didn’t have to fight it. He didn’t have to be strong, or cold, or distant.

With Save, it was easy. So easy to just be.

Save had a way of making the world smaller—slower. He could make a bad day feel like it didn’t matter. Like they could just be together, and everything else would fade into the background.

And Auau could only look at him and feel… home.

Sometimes he wondered if Save knew. If he knew just how much Auau needed him—how much he had come to rely on him. How he was the only one who ever made sense to him, the only one who could settle his restless heart.

But maybe Save didn’t need to know. Because Auau had already made a promise in his mind, the one he’d never say out loud but would keep until the end of his days.

Save was the only one he would ever love. The only one who would ever get all of him.

No one else would ever get to be his peace. No one else would ever see him like this. Like he was whole, like he could finally breathe without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Auau didn’t need anything else. He didn’t need anyone else.

As long as he had Save.

And that was all that mattered.

The sun was beginning to dip lower, casting soft golden hues across the horizon as Save rested his head on Auau’s shoulder. They were sitting close, just a few inches between them, their fingers loosely entwined. The sound of the waves was a soft lullaby in the background, the air cool and gentle against their skin.

Save shifted slightly, his gaze soft as he looked up at Auau. He’d been meaning to say this for a while, but the words hadn’t quite come together. But now, in the quiet of their shared space, with the world muffled by the sea and the wind, it felt right.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice barely audible over the surf. Auau glanced down at him, his expression a mix of curiosity and warmth.

“For what?” Auau asked, his voice as soft as the air around them, his thumb brushing over the back of Save’s hand.

Save bit his lip, finding the right words. “For being so gentle with me. For loving me… like this. You could have been rough, harsh, like everyone else. But you… you’re not like that. You’re always gentle. Even when I’m difficult or when I push you away. You never give up. And I—” Save paused, the words thickening in his throat. “I’ve never felt… so safe, so cared for.”

Auau’s heart tightened at the words. Save had always been so strong, so independent, and hearing him say this made something deep inside Auau shift, a warmth flooding his chest. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers brushing against Save’s cheek, his touch tender.

“Baby…” Auau’s voice was a low murmur, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against Save’s. “You’re worth every bit of gentleness, every bit of patience. I’ll never do anything but love you like this.” His words were so soft, so filled with conviction, it almost took Save’s breath away.

Save smiled, that smile that always seemed to make Auau’s heart skip a beat. “You’ve done more than love me, baby. You’ve changed me.You’ve made me realize that it’s okay to not always be strong, that it’s okay to need someone. You’ve made me… softer. More open.”

Auau was quiet for a moment, processing what Save said, but then he shifted, kneeling in front of him, holding Save’s hand in both of his. The beach around them seemed to fade as Auau’s gaze fixed on Save’s eyes. There was something raw in the way he looked at him—like he was searching for the right words, something to say that could express everything he felt.

“Thank you, baby,” Auau said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. He kissed Save’s knuckles, his lips lingering there for just a moment longer than necessary. “Thank you for being patient with me. For showing me how to love like this. I wasn’t always easy to love. I was cold. Closed off.” He kissed Save’s knuckles again, pressing his lips reverently against them. “But you never gave up. You helped me change, helped me open up in ways I never thought I could.”

Save’s breath caught in his chest as he watched Auau, the way he spoke, so earnest, so tender. It was the kind of love that felt like a promise—a promise that no matter what, they would always be there for each other.

“You’ve always had it in you, sweetheart,” Save whispered, his voice soft and full of affection. “I’m just… so lucky you found me. And that you let me love you.”

Auau smiled at that, the expression rare but genuine, the kind of smile that only appeared when Save was near. “I’m the lucky one, baby,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making sure you know that.”

And in that moment, as they sat together on the beach, Auau’s hand still holding his, Save knew that this was it. This was home. This was the love he’d always needed, always wanted—gentle, patient, and unwavering. And he would never, ever take it for granted.

Chapter Text

Wan wasn’t speaking to him.

He’d climbed into Third’s lap without a word, arms folded, mouth pressed into a pout so deep it was practically carved there. His body was stiff, his jaw tight, and he refused—refused—to look at Third.

Which meant, of course, Third was grinning like a wolf.

“You okay, baby?” he asked innocently, voice low against Wan’s ear.

Silence.

Third hummed. “You’ve been like this ever since the show ended…”

Still no answer.

“…Is it because I wore that mesh shirt?”

Wan’s nostrils flared.

“Ohhh,” Third drawled. “It is, isn’t it?”

“You—” Wan started, eyes sparking as he whipped his head toward him. “You were basically naked, Third. And you knew it.”

Third laughed. “I was stylish.”

“You were flashing your abs to the whole crowd—”

“Yeah, but you’re the one sitting in my lap now, aren’t you?”

Wan went red, furious and flustered, squirming without really wanting to leave. “That’s not the—shut up.”

Third’s hands slid under his shirt slowly, palms warm against Wan’s bare skin. “If you’re jealous, sweetheart, just say so. I’ll fix it.”

“I’m not—”

But Third was already tilting him forward, pressing their chests together. “You want me to remind you who I belong to?”

Wan blinked at him, wide-eyed.

Third leaned in, whispering: “Who you belong to?”

Wan made a soft sound in his throat, breath catching.

And then Third’s mouth was on him—at his neck, low and slow, kissing just under his jaw. Wan gasped, hips twitching as Third bit softly, then sucked a bruise into the skin.

“Third—”

Another mark, lower this time. “What, baby?”

“You—people are gonna see—”

“Good.”

Third licked over the red bloom, then dragged his mouth across Wan’s throat to the other side, leaving a twin bruise right above the collar of his shirt.

“You sit in my lap, pouting and jealous,” he murmured, “and expect me not to take advantage?”

Wan whimpered. “You’re evil.”

Third smiled against his skin. “And you’re mine.”

“Bed,” Wan mumbled, already tugging at Third’s shirt like it was obvious. “Carry me.”

“You have legs,” Third teased, though his arms were already sliding under Wan’s thighs and back.

Wan blinked up at him, smug and drowsy. “But you like using yours for me.”

Third didn’t argue—he just smiled and lifted him, cradling Wan against his chest like something fragile and only his. Wan nuzzled into him, bare legs dangling, arms tucked under his chin, breath slow and warm against Third’s throat.

But the moment they stepped into the bedroom and Third shifted to lower him onto the mattress, he froze.

Wan was on the bed—his bed—lounging like a spoiled cat, back against the pillows, one leg bent lazily over the other. And he was wearing nothing but Third’s favorite old T-shirt, soft and slouchy, the neckline wide and slipping off one bare shoulder.

That alone would’ve been enough to kill him.

But then Wan shifted—just slightly—and the hem of the shirt rose up.

Lace.

Black. Delicate. Tight against his thighs.

Third’s mouth went dry.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he said flatly.

Wan tilted his head, all innocence. “Hmm?”

“Don’t play dumb. That’s my shirt.”

“You left it on the chair.”

Third stalked closer, eyes dark, jaw tense. “And the lace?”

Wan smiled, slow and dangerous. “You weren’t looking at me enough tonight.”

“Wan.”

“So I decided to remind you.”

Third grabbed his wrist, tugged him up and off the bed with one fluid pull—Wan landed in his lap as Third sat down, legs spread, his hands instantly settling on Wan’s waist beneath the T-shirt.

“You really wanna play this game right now?” Third asked, voice like gravel.

Wan batted his lashes. “You jealous earlier. I get jealous now—it’s only fair.”

Third laughed, low and mean. His thumbs stroked over the waistband of the lace. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging Wan forward so he could feel everything, “you wore this knowing I’d rip it off you?”

“I hoped you’d try,” Wan said, breath hitching when Third’s teeth grazed his jaw.

Third shifted, wrapping an arm around Wan’s waist and dragging him fully into his lap, thighs bracketing his hips.

“You’re being a brat,” he said.

Wan’s smile wobbled. “Am I?”

“You’re sitting in my shirt,” Third growled, “in lace, acting like I won’t ruin you for this.”

Wan bit his lip. “Then do it.”

Third didn’t speak when he wrapped the silk around Wan’s wrists—just kissed his palms first, slow and reverent, before guiding them up above his head and tying them to the bedframe.

Wan watched him through his lashes, chest rising in steady, slow breaths.

He wasn’t nervous. He wanted this.

Third hesitated when the silk tie slid through his fingers. He looked down at Wan’s wrists—so small, so soft—and his hands paused.

Wan was already watching him, lips parted, breath unsteady, but his eyes steady with quiet trust.

“You’re sure?” Third asked again, softer this time, like a secret. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to leave anything that lasts.”

“I know,” Wan said, voice like a sigh. “That’s why I trust you.”

That did it. Third leaned in slowly, gathering Wan’s hands in his palms, thumbs brushing over the delicate skin of his wrists. And then—gently, reverently—he brought one wrist to his lips.

A kiss. Not rushed. Not casual.

He pressed his mouth there with so much care it made Wan tremble. Then the other. One soft kiss. Another.

“I’ll never let this tie you in a way you don’t want,” Third whispered against his skin. “This is only because you asked. The moment you don’t want it, it’s gone.”

Wan’s eyes went glassy.

“I don’t want to forget this,” he said, almost shy.

“How you look at me when you hold me like that.”

Third smiled—soft and small and almost too intimate to be witnessed. “You’ll never forget it, baby. I’ll make sure of it.”

He tied the silk slowly, carefully, wrapping it around Wan’s wrists with just enough give. Nothing tight. Nothing cruel. A gesture of love disguised in submission.

And once it was done, Third kissed both wrists again, lips lingering like a promise. Then he leaned back to look at him—at the way Wan’s breath hitched, the way he offered himself without fear.

Third’s voice was low, reverent. “You’re beautiful.”

Wan flushed, already squirming under the attention.

“Now,” Third murmured, climbing closer, hands finding Wan’s waist, his hips, his thighs, “let me show you how good it feels to be loved like this.”

He arched slightly on the bed, letting the shirt fall fully off one shoulder, baring more skin—more lace.

Third’s eyes were black with it.

“You’re acting so smug for someone tied up,” he murmured, running a palm up Wan’s thigh, fingers brushing lace.

Wan smirked. “You’re the one who likes me like this.”

Third leaned down, mouth just beside Wan’s ear. “I like owning you like this.”

Wan whimpered—quiet but sharp. His legs shifted, spreading just a little more. Inviting.

“That’s what you want, right?” Third’s hand slid under the lace now, knuckles grazing soft skin. “You want me to take control so you can still pretend you had it all along?”

Wan moaned, head tipping back. “Yes.”

Third kissed his throat, then bit it, hands still teasing, not giving him what he wanted.

“Such a good boy when you’re tied up,” he whispered. “So sweet. So loud.”

“I’m not—nh, loud—” Wan gasped as Third’s fingers dipped lower.

“You will be.”

He mouthed down Wan’s chest, lifting the T-shirt just enough to bite at his ribs, his stomach, right above the lace.

“Look at you,” Third said softly, brushing his thumb over the marks he’d left earlier. “All dressed up for me. All tied up for me.”

Wan tugged on the silk, hips twitching. “Third—”

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Wan swallowed hard. His voice was breathy and proud and just a little pleading:

“Praise me. Touch me. Make me yours. I want to feel it—everywhere.”

Third growled at that, dragging the lace down his thighs so slowly it was torture.

“Oh, baby,” he said. “You are mine.”

“Bite me,” Wan whispered.

Third froze for just a second—just enough to register the way Wan’s voice shook, the way his head was tipped to the side, exposing his throat willingly. His wrists flexed against the silk, but there was no fight. Only offering.

Third’s lips brushed his jaw. “Where, baby?”

Wan’s breath hitched. “Everywhere.”

Third’s hand slid under his shirt again, dragging it higher up Wan’s stomach as he leaned down, mouth warm and wet on his neck. He kissed first, slowly, then opened his mouth and bit—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark.

Wan moaned. High and needy.

“That’s it,” Third breathed against his skin. “Such a good boy. You sound so pretty when I bite you.”

“More,” Wan begged, voice starting to crack. “Please—”

Third bit down again, this time at the curve of Wan’s shoulder, sucking at the skin until it bloomed red. Then he kissed it softly, tongue flicking out to soothe.

Wan squirmed in the binds, thighs trembling as Third moved lower, kissing down his chest, leaving a trail of teeth and tongue. Every bite earned a whimper. Every praise made him arch.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” Third murmured, licking across a faint mark on Wan’s ribs. “So perfect like this. So good for me.”

Wan shuddered, panting now, hips grinding down into nothing.

“I need—need your hands—”

“I know,” Third soothed, dragging his fingers slowly over Wan’s hips, nails light. “You’re doing so well for me. Tied up, wearing lace, begging for my mouth. You’re so good, baby.”

Wan made a sound—half-sob, half-moan—as Third dipped his head again, this time to the soft skin just inside his thigh.

“Gonna mark you everywhere,” he said, voice dark with heat. “Wanna see my teeth on you tomorrow.”

Wan nodded helplessly, eyes fluttering. “Do it. Please. Third, please—”

And Third bit, just where the lace had been, holding Wan’s hips down as he kissed, sucked, licked—owned.

Third didn’t rush. He never rushed.

Not when Wan was laid out like this—wrists bound, body arched, chest rising with every shaky breath. The shirt had bunched under his arms now, revealing the stretch of soft, sensitive skin along his sides, already kissed and bitten raw.

“Still with me, baby?” Third murmured, dragging his knuckles along Wan’s ribs.

Wan nodded, biting his lip hard.

“Use your words.”

“Y-Yeah,” Wan breathed. “I want… I want more.”

Third smiled and ducked down again, kissing just above the waistband of those wicked little lace still hanging around Wan’s hips. His fingers played with the edge of them, dipping inside but never far enough.

“You wore these for me?” he asked softly.

Wan’s eyes fluttered. “Only you…”

Third groaned—deep and quiet, like the sound punched out of him. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

He kissed Wan’s hipbone, then bit it—sharp and quick before soothing with his tongue.

Wan jerked in the binds, a little cry falling from his lips. “Third—!”

“That too much?”

“No. No—please, more…”

Third kissed the inside of his thigh again. “You’re so good like this. Taking everything I give you, aren’t you?”

Wan’s hips bucked. “I can take more.”

“You want my fingers, sweetheart?” Third murmured. “You want me to stretch you slow and soft while I kiss you all over? Or you want my tongue first, huh?”

Wan made a noise, wrists flexing above him, legs falling open even more. “Please. Anything. Just—praise me, don’t stop…”

Third’s eyes were fire. “You like that, huh? My sweet little brat. All soft and open and still so proud.” He leaned in, tongue finally licking a stripe up between Wan’s thighs, making him cry out. “I’ll praise you until you’re crying.”

Wan whimpered, panting now. “Good—I’m good—say it—say I’m good—”

“You’re perfect,” Third whispered. “My beautiful boy. Made for me.”

He kissed again, licked again, bit just above the lace, right on the crease of Wan’s thigh.

Wan screamed.

Wan was squirming now. Beautiful and desperate, wrists straining in the silk, his hips rolling for friction he couldn’t find. His legs had fallen wide, the lace crooked on his thighs, soaked through, clinging like a second skin.

“Third, please,” he gasped. “I c-can’t—”

“You can,” Third murmured, lips brushing over the damp fabric, not moving it. Not yet. “You’re my strong, good boy. You can take it.”

“I—” Wan shivered as Third kissed just above the waistband. “I’m trying…”

Third looked up at him, eyes dark and warm all at once. “You’re doing so well.”

He dragged his fingers up the inside of Wan’s  thigh—slow, so slow—until they barely ghosted over the fabric. Wan’s whole body twitched.

“Look at you,” Third said softly. “Tied up and still trying to act like you’re in charge.”

Wan whimpered, cheeks pink, eyes fluttering.

“I am,” he whispered. “I chose this.”

Third smiled—proud. “Yes, you did. So brave. Letting me take you apart like this.”

He leaned in again, kissing lower this time—wet and open-mouthed, right over the lace, his tongue barely pressing in. Wan sobbed, arching hard.

Third mused. “That’s it. That’s my boy.”

He pulled the lace down just enough to expose him, then leaned in and kissed his inner thigh again, mouth open and hot, teeth grazing as he bit. Wan gasped.

“Third! Don’t tease—please! I need— I need your mouth—”

“You’ll get it,” Third whispered. “When you’re shaking. When you’re crying for it.”

Wan let out a broken, needy sound, chest heaving, skin flushed from collarbone to ears.

“You look so good like this,” Third murmured, kissing up his stomach now, hands spreading over Wan’s thighs to hold him open. “So full of want. So easy to praise.”

Wan choked on a moan. “Say it again…”

“You’re perfect,” Third breathed against his skin.

“You’re everything. My soft, spoiled, needy boy. I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He bit his way back down, tongue licking just beside where Wan wanted him most.

“You’re gonna beg.”

And Wan did—desperately, shamelessly—his voice cracking as he cried, “Please, please, please—”

Third finally slipped one hand down, slow and deliberate, brushing his fingertips between Wan’s thighs.

“Shhh,” he whispered when Wan gasped. “Just one. Gotta stretch you real slow, baby. Gotta take care of my good boy.”

Wan was trembling. Silk tied tight at his wrists, chest rising in stuttered breaths. The lace was shoved down, forgotten now—he was bare, exposed, aching.

Third kissed his stomach, lips dragging soft and warm over flushed skin as his finger pressed in—just one, slick and careful. Wan whimpered, whole body arching up.

“Third—please—”

“That’s it,” Third murmured. “Let me in. Just like that.”

Wan’s head fell back. “N-Not enough…”

“I know, baby.” Third’s voice was gentle, coaxing. “You want more, don’t you? Want me to fill you up, stretch you open and make you cry.”

Wan moaned—desperate, wrecked. “Yes—yes—please, I need more, I’m being good—”

“You’re being perfect,” Third breathed, kissing just below his ribs. “Look at you—spread open, tied down, still trying to keep that bratty little mouth soft for me.”

“I’m trying—”

“You’re succeeding,” Third cut in, pressing his finger deeper, curling just once. “You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

Wan sobbed—his voice cracked and wet. “Th-Third, I—”

Third pressed in again, same finger, same pace—slow, unbearable, perfect.

He leaned up, brushing a kiss to Wan’s flushed cheek. “What do you want, baby?”

“You,” Wan choked. “I want your mouth, your hands—I want you to wreck me.”

Third smiled, dark and fond. “That’s my boy.”

And then he kissed down again—past his stomach, past his thighs—until his mouth met the base of him, warm and open and barely enough.

Wan cried out, head twisting, wrists straining in the silk. “Third—!”

Third moaned softly, lips dragging up, tongue licking at the tip, slow and sinful. He still hadn’t added a second finger. Still hadn’t picked up the pace.

He was worshipping.

Ruining him with love.

“You’re shaking,” Third murmured. “So desperate for me.”

Wan’s voice broke on a moan. “I want you so bad—”

“And you’ll get me,” Third said, “when I’ve made you fall apart just from this.”

“Okay, baby,” Third whispered against Wan’s thigh, voice hoarse with want. “You’ve been so good. So sweet for me.”

Wan gasped like he couldn’t believe it—like the promise alone had him on the edge. His fingers flexed uselessly in the silk, arms tugging like he wanted to reach, to pull Third close, to kiss him hard. But all he could do was lie there—tied, spread, trembling.

“Gonna give you one more,” Third murmured. “Just one more, yeah? Let me stretch you a little more, get you ready.”

Wan nodded so fast his hair flopped over his eyes. “Yes—yes please, baby, I can take it, I want it—”

Third kissed the inside of his knee again, soft and adoring, before slowly—finally—slipping in the second finger.

Wan screamed. His back arched, thighs shaking, the lace halfway pushed up around his hips and already soaked. His body clamped down tight, overwhelmed by just that small stretch. But he didn’t pull away.

He bucked into it.

“God,” Third breathed, watching the way Wan’s body moved—opened—around his fingers. “You’re taking me so well, baby. So good for me. So perfect.”

Wan’s eyes fluttered, breath hitching. “Th-Third—feels so good, want your fingers deeper, want your voice, want—” He broke off into a whine, head lolling back.

“You love it when I talk to you like this, don’t you?” Third asked, pumping his fingers just a little faster. “Love being my good boy, my pretty thing—tied up in lace and silk, dripping just from my hands?”

Wan moaned, so loud and raw it echoed. “Yes—yesyesyes,—ah—”

Third curled his fingers.

Wan shattered.

Not all the way—but close. His hips bucked wildly, chasing the feeling, his legs wrapping weakly around Third’s sides as his voice cracked in another sob.

“Don’t stop—please don’t stop—”

Third didn’t. He leaned in, biting lightly at the crease of Wan’s thigh, then sucking a sharp mark just under his hip. “You want more?”

Wan was gasping. “Yes. Need more.”

“Tell me what you want.”

Wan cried out, voice broken with praise and need. “Want your mouth back on me, wanna be full, wanna be bitten and ruined—want you to fuck me open.”

Third licked up the length of him again, slow and hot, fingers moving deeper.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he whispered. “Begging for everything. Begging for me.”

Wan’s breathing was ragged now, mouth open in a soft ah—ah—ah as Third’s fingers worked him open in slow, steady curls. The stretch was maddening—not painful, never too much—but just enough to make his thighs tremble and his lashes flutter.

Third had shifted higher, holding Wan gently from behind now, one arm snug around his waist, the other between his legs, moving with practiced care. His fingers were coated in slick, and every glide in was a drag over sensitive nerves, making Wan whine every single time.

“Shhh,” Third murmured, mouth close to his ear. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Taking my fingers so well.”

Wan choked out a soft sound—somewhere between a gasp and a sob—and let his head drop back onto Third’s shoulder. “Feels full,” he whispered. “But not—not enough, need more—”

“I know,” Third said, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re almost ready. Just let me help, okay?”

Wan nodded shakily, his hands clenched in the sheets beneath him. He was still tied, wrists loose in silk, hips bare and framed by the hem of Third’s T-shirt that hung on his body like a whisper.

Third slowly twisted his fingers inside again, scissoring gently. Wan gasped, the movement making his body jolt. His muscles clenched around the stretch, instinctive, and a whine spilled from his throat—high and breathy.

“Third—Third—don’t stop, please—”

“I won’t,” Third said, voice velvet-smooth, kissing down the side of his neck. “I’ve got you, baby. Gonna open you up nice and slow. You’re already doing so well.”

Wan whimpered again, his thighs falling open wider, trying to take more. “Want you to fill me,” he said, voice trembling. “Want you to say I’m good. Please—please say it again—”

Third’s breath hitched at how soft he sounded, how sweetly broken.

“You’re my good boy,” he whispered, curling his fingers again, just a little deeper. “So pretty like this. So perfect. I could touch you forever.”

Wan gasped. “Third—”

“Let me take my time,” Third said, licking a slow stripe up the side of Wan’s neck. “Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Wan could only nod, teary and breathless, his legs trembling from the slow, endless teasing.

Third shifts them carefully, sliding down until he’s propped against the pillows, legs spread with Wan still in his lap. He keeps Wan’s wrists bound in silk, soft and loose, just enough to remind him who’s in control.

But Wan is the one doing the moving now.

With Third’s fingers still buried inside him, slow and warm, Wan lowers himself back down, gasping as he takes them in deeper, letting his body adjust around the stretch again. He’s shaking—not from pain, but from sheer overwhelm, the build-up enough to make his eyes water.

“There you go,” Third murmurs, one hand firm on Wan’s waist, the other still working slow circles inside him. “Just like that, baby. Ride my fingers. Show me how much you want it.”

Wan moans, long and soft, his thighs bracketing Third’s hips as he rocks down with another small grind. The lace between his legs is soaked now, the edges bunched up and doing nothing to hide how needy he is. The shirt he’s wearing slips off one shoulder, and his lips are parted—slick and pink.

He tries to move again, hips shifting in slow waves, but it’s too much, the pressure too perfect. He ends up collapsing forward against Third’s chest, mouth finding the curve of his neck.

“Third—please—”

Third groans low, pulling Wan tighter with one arm while keeping his fingers buried inside. “What do you want, pretty boy?” he whispers, kissing along Wan’s jaw. “You’ve gotta tell me. Use that sweet mouth.”

Wan whimpers. “Want more—want you to keep touching me—praise me—tell me I’m good—”

“You are good,” Third breathes, fucking his fingers into him just a little deeper, just a little slower. “The best. My perfect baby. Look how well you take me.”

Wan cries out, voice cracking with pleasure, burying his face into Third’s throat. “Say it again—say it again—”

Third smiles against his temple. “You’re so good, baby. So sweet and tight and mine.”

Wan keens, hips rolling on instinct now, chasing every slow curl of Third’s fingers like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. He’s panting against Third’s skin, body arching with every tiny movement.

“Third, I can’t—I can’t take it—”

“Yes, you can,” Third murmurs, licking into his mouth before whispering at the corner of his lips. “You’re already doing it. Let me love you slow, baby. Let me ruin you sweet.”

Third brushes his knuckles down Wan’s spine, fingers still deep inside him, feeling the way Wan flutters and clenches around the stretch. His other hand moves up to the silk ties around Wan’s wrists, thumb tracing the soft knot.

“You want me to untie you now?” he asks, voice thick, loving, wrecked with how beautiful Wan looks like this—sitting in his lap, shirt falling off one shoulder, lace pushed aside, body trembling from how long he’s been open and filled.

But Wan shakes his head.

“No,” he breathes, pouting faintly, lips red and kiss-swollen. “Want to stay tied. I like it.” He tilts his head, looking up at Third through damp lashes, so sweet and smug at once. “Like being good like this… for you.”

Third’s eyes darken. His cock twitches against Wan’s thigh, and his breath leaves in a slow hiss.

“Fuck,” he says, kissing Wan’s shoulder, then biting it lightly. “You really like driving me insane, don’t you.”

Wan whines at the bite, hips rolling down onto Third’s fingers again. “You said I was good…”

“You are,” Third growls, tightening his grip on Wan’s hips. “You’re perfect. The best boy I’ve ever had. So sweet like this. So tight and soft. You don’t even know what you do to me, baby.”

Wan whimpers again, his fingers twitching in their bindings like he wants to touch—needs to hold on—but the silk keeps him in place. He doesn’t fight it. He just leans forward, forehead resting on Third’s as he keeps riding the stretch, little gasps escaping with every press.

“I wanna come like this,” he whispers. “Tied. Full. Want you to make me fall apart, and I can’t do anything but take it.”

Third lets out a guttural sound, pulling Wan down into a messy, deep kiss, fingers curling again until Wan sobs into his mouth.

“You will,” he promises. “I’m not gonna stop until you forget everything but my name.”

Third’s cock is barely inside, just the tip, and Wan is trembling from the stretch, tied and aching, every inch of him flushed and desperate. But when he hears Third groan above him—sees the flush climbing his neck, the way his jaw clenches like he’s holding back—something in Wan shifts.

Because Third might be in control, but he’s not untouched by all of this. He’s just as wrecked.

Wan blinks up at him, lashes wet, mouth swollen from their earlier kisses. “You’re hard,” he says, voice small but sure, breathless and fond. “You’re leaking.”

Third’s breath hitches. He looks down at Wan, one hand tightening on his waist. “Of course I am,” he murmurs, rough. “You’re driving me fucking crazy, pretty boy.”

Wan wiggles a little in his lap, thighs shifting as he adjusts how he’s sitting between Third’s spread legs. The motion pushes him up off the tip slightly, but instead of dropping back down, he leans forward—wrist still tied—until his lips brush over the flushed head of Third’s cock.

Third gasps, hips jerking.

“Wan—fuck—”

“I wanna help,” Wan whispers, lips parting to lick delicately over the slit. “Let me.”

Third groans deep in his chest, his head falling back for a second before he looks down again, ruined. “You’re still tied—”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t suck you off,” Wan purrs, voice suddenly lower, teasing. “Let me be good.”

Third exhales like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Holy shit.”

Wan doesn’t wait for more permission. He’s already sliding lower between Third’s legs, still seated in his lap, wrists bound prettily behind his back as he lowers his mouth over the head. He sucks slowly, tongue swirling, letting Third’s cock slip past his lips just an inch at a time.

Third groans like he’s in pain, hands flying to Wan’s hair, fingers threading through as he tries—fails—to hold still.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes.

Wan pulls back just enough to murmur, lips brushing over the flushed skin, “Not yet.”

And then he moans around him, deep and sweet, eyes fluttering closed like he’s the one being touched. His lace is still pushed up, slick dripping down his thighs, and even with his mouth full, he’s still the most beautiful, eager little baby Third’s ever seen.

Wan’s mouth is warm and wet around the head of Third’s cock, sucking just enough to make Third groan and tighten his grip in Wan’s hair. Every time his tongue flicks over the slit, Third’s hips twitch, his breath turning ragged.

But then Wan pulls off with a wet pop—just for a moment—his lips shiny, cheeks flushed, and eyes wide.

“Tell me I’m good,” he breathes, voice shaking slightly with need. “Please.”

Third blinks down at him, chest heaving. Wan’s wrists are still tied behind his back, body straddling his lap in nothing but lace and a rumpled shirt. His thighs are slick, trembling, still aching to be filled—but he’s focused on this, on pleasing Third.

“I want you to say it,” Wan whispers, nuzzling the base of Third’s cock before licking a stripe up the side. “Wanna hear it while I’m doing this. Tell me I’m your good boy.”

Third’s head falls back with a growl, but he grabs Wan’s chin, tilts his face up so their eyes lock.

“You’re my good boy,” he rasps. “The best boy. You look so pretty like this, sucking me off while you’re still stretched and dripping. Fuck, Wan—”

Wan lets out a little moan just from that, biting his lip, eyes fluttering closed like the words are a drug.

“I am,” he nods, breathless. “I’m good for you. Wanna be good.”

He leans back in and takes Third deeper this time—slow, careful, tongue cradling him, moaning around the weight in his mouth. His own cock twitches, untouched between his thighs, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to make Third fall apart.

Third’s hand cups the back of his head now, not forcing, just holding, and his voice breaks when he speaks again.

“You’re perfect, baby. You’re fucking perfect.”

Wan makes a noise so desperate and sweet it’s almost a sob, sucking harder now, bobbing slowly with his wrists still tied behind him like a gift. Like he was made to worship him like this.

Wan moves with purpose now, mouth slick and eager, taking Third deeper, messier, more desperate each time. Every time he pulls back with a gasp, it’s just to breathe out more praise-seeking whimpers.

“You like it?” he pants, licking at the head again before suckling with open-mouthed kisses. “Am I doing good, Third?”

Third’s breath shudders, hips barely restrained. “Wan—fuck, you’re—yes, baby, you’re so good. You’re making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Wan glows, tongue dipping down, hands still tied prettily behind him. He shifts a little in Third’s lap—lace damp, thighs open wide—but doesn’t stop. He moans around Third’s cock this time, deep and low, and the vibration nearly makes Third black out.

“Wan—” Third growls, his hand tightening in Wan’s hair, barely restraining himself now. His voice is hoarse. “You’re gonna make me come like this.”

Wan looks up, pupils blown wide, mouth red and wet. “I want it. Want you to feel good. Want you to need me.”

That’s the last straw.

Third lets out a guttural sound and grabs Wan under the arms, pulling him up in one smooth, heated motion, his mouth crashing into Wan’s with a desperate, wet kiss. Wan gasps into it, wrists still bound, straddling him again with his thighs shaking.

The kiss is filthy—Third licking into his mouth like he can taste his own pleasure on Wan’s tongue, his hands sliding down to grip Wan’s slick waist.

“You want me to fill you up?” Third growls against his lips. “You want it now, baby?”

Wan nods so fast he almost cries. “Please. I’m ready, I need it—been good—been so good—”

“You’ve been perfect,” Third breathes, lining up again. “Hold on, baby. I’m not stopping till you feel me everywhere.”

And then he presses in—slow, thick, deep, stretching Wan open in one long, shuddering push that knocks the air from both their lungs.

Wan throws his head back with a choked cry, tears clinging to his lashes.

“Third—”

“Shh,” Third kisses along his jaw, down his throat, hips rolling deeper. “I’ve got you. Gonna take care of you now.”

Wan’s breath hitches as Third sinks into him fully, slow and steady, until their hips are flush and Wan is gasping, arms straining slightly in their binds behind his back.

“Th-Third,” he whimpers, thighs quivering around his waist, body so full it aches. “You’re so deep—”

“I know, baby,” Third murmurs against his skin, voice low and soothing. “You take me so well.”

He doesn’t move at first, just holds him there, buried to the hilt while Wan tries to catch his breath. His hands roam up Wan’s sides, brushing his ribs, then settling on his chest—thumbs stroking over soft skin, palms warming as they rise.

And then he leans in.

Third kisses just under Wan’s collarbone, open-mouthed and tender, lips dragging lower to press against the swell of his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, voice rough with emotion. “So good for me.”

Wan lets out a breathless moan, squirming in his lap, head falling back as Third’s hips finally start to move—slow, deep thrusts that press against every sensitive spot, dragging friction that makes Wan tremble around him.

Third keeps kissing him between every roll of his hips—across one nipple, then the other, licking lightly before sucking, letting his teeth graze just enough to make Wan sob.

“Th-Third, you’re… ngh— you’re driving me crazy,” Wan cries, thighs squeezing around his waist, back arching into every kiss. “You’re kissing me like I’m—like you love me—”

Third stills for just a second, lifting his head, gaze soft but wild.

“I do love you.”

And then he starts again, fucking him slow and deep while he marks up Wan’s chest, one bite at a time—each one followed by a kiss, by praise, by a whisper of “mine.”

Wan’s head lolls forward, body shaking, still tied but never more wanted. He whines with each thrust, begging without words, needing more, everything, and Third gives it to him—slow and steady, worshipful and ruinous.

Wan’s wrists twitch behind his back, helpless and bound, but all he can focus on is the way Third fills him—deep, slow thrusts that grind perfectly against that aching spot inside him, over and over. His chest is flushed, marked with kisses and teeth, slick with sweat where Third’s mouth had loved on him.

“Third, please,” he breathes, voice cracking around a soft, needy moan. “Please, I—I need—”

“What do you need, baby?” Third whispers, lips brushing over a bite on Wan’s chest. He thrusts again, deep and slow, just enough to make Wan sob. “You want to come already?”

Wan nods, frantic, his thighs trembling on either side of Third’s hips. “Yes—yes, please, let me—”

But Third just smiles, wicked and adoring, pressing another kiss to his skin.

“You’re not ready yet,” he murmurs, tongue flicking over Wan’s nipple before sucking it into his mouth. “You’re too perfect like this. All warm and tight around me. I want to feel you like this a little longer.”

Wan cries out, arching into his touch, back bowing so beautifully with his hands still bound behind him. His cock is hard, untouched, leaking against his belly—but Third keeps moving in him slowly, like he’s savoring every sound.

“Every time you whine,” Third says, kissing down the center of his chest, “I feel you squeeze me. You like this, huh?”

Wan nods helplessly. “I love it—Third, you’re gonna make me—ngh—gonna—”

But Third shushes him again with another long, deep thrust, burying his face against Wan’s chest as he kisses him through the noise. “Not yet, baby. Just hold on for me. Be my good boy a little longer.”

Wan sobs, high and broken, but he nods, because he wants to be good. He wants the praise, wants the control—wants to feel loved even as he’s being kept just shy of breaking.

And Third gives it to him—holding him, kissing him, filling him slow while Wan begs in whimpers, trembling in his lap, body and heart so full it hurts.

Wan sighs quietly, cheek resting against Third’s shoulder, his body lax and pliant where he straddles his lap. The air is warm and still around them, only the faint creak of the mattress and the whisper of their breathing filling the space. His wrists are still tied behind him with that silken touch he loves so much, but there’s no pressure. No urgency. Just closeness.

Third shifts slightly beneath him, one arm curled around Wan’s waist, the other hand cupping his jaw so gently it makes Wan’s heart ache.

“You okay?” he asks softly, lips brushing Wan’s temple.

Wan nods, slow and dreamy. “Mhm. Feel perfect.”

They move together like a tide—just enough friction to keep Wan shivering a little, his thighs clinging loosely to Third’s sides, his body still fluttering from being open for so long. But now it’s not about chasing anything. It’s just feeling.

Third kisses his cheek. Then the edge of his brow. Then his nose.

“I love you,” he whispers, as if it’s the only thing he knows for sure.

Wan hums, smiling faintly as he leans into another kiss. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Third repeats, his voice warm, honey-slow, a little hoarse with emotion. His thumb strokes over Wan’s cheekbone. “I love you so much, baby.”

Wan moans, not from heat but from how full he feels—inside, yes, but mostly in his chest. He leans forward, their foreheads resting together, breath mingling. “I love you too,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. “Love you so much I feel stupid.”

That makes Third laugh, soft and sweet. He kisses Wan again, this time slow and deep—tongue barely there, lips moving gently like he’s savoring him.

They stay like that—rocking lazily, kissing slowly, whispering love into every little gasp. Wan trembles sometimes, overwhelmed by it all, but Third never lets go, never moves too fast. He just holds him, kisses his skin, murmurs sweet things that make Wan feel like he’s glowing from the inside out.

They don’t come apart for a long time.

And even then, Third keeps whispering, “I love you,” over and over, like a promise.

Wan barely stirred as Third shifted beside him, only a sleepy sound escaping his lips as he tried to bury himself deeper into Third’s warmth.

“Hey,” Third whispered, brushing a kiss against his damp temple. “We should get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

Wan pouted without opening his eyes, arms tightening around Third’s waist like he had no intention of letting go. “Nooo… I’m comfy.”

Third chuckled softly, running a hand down his back. “I know. But you’re all messy, and I want to take care of you.”

“M’not messy,” Wan mumbled, still nuzzled into his chest, “I’m loved.”

That made Third’s chest ache in the best way. “You’re definitely that,” he murmured, kissing the top of Wan’s head. “But let me clean you up so you can feel all cozy, yeah?”

Wan grumbled but nodded, letting Third help him sit up. He was pliant, boneless, completely trusting as Third guided him into the bathroom and set him on the closed toilet lid. The light was dim, and the air was still warm with the echo of their closeness.

Third grabbed a soft cloth, dampening it with warm water, and knelt between Wan’s knees. “Tell me if anything hurts.”

Wan blinked sleepily at him, letting his legs fall open without hesitation. “You always make it feel good…”

Third smiled, heart so full it felt like it could spill over. “Still. I want you to be comfortable.”

He worked slowly, gently wiping over Wan’s thighs and between them, making sure to be extra careful around every tender spot. Wan was mostly quiet—only letting out soft sighs and sleepy hums—until Third leaned in and pressed a kiss just above his hip.

“You’re being so sweet to me…” Wan murmured, eyes fluttering open. “Why are you always like this?”

“Because I love you,” Third said easily, wiping away the last bit of warmth from Wan’s skin before wrapping him in a soft towel. “And because you’re my sweetest angel.”

Wan flushed, clearly pleased, and threw his arms around Third’s neck, nearly knocking them both over in the process. “I love you too. Even when you ruin me.”

Third laughed into the kiss Wan pressed to his cheek. “Especially then, huh?”

Wan nodded fiercely, still clinging. “Especially then.”

Wan didn’t let go.

Even after Third had dried him off and dressed him in the softest pair of briefs and one of Third’s oversized tees—his favorite one, the pale blue that smelled like laundry and home—Wan stayed wrapped around him, arms looped around his neck, legs lazy around his waist.

“Can walk if you want,” Third murmured against Wan’s hair, even though he didn’t really mean it.

“No,” Wan said immediately, nose smushed against Third’s shoulder. “I’m a carry-only model now.”

Third huffed a quiet laugh and tightened his arms around him. “Fine. Spoiled little thing.”

“Yours to spoil,” Wan mumbled, letting out a tiny, satisfied sigh as Third lifted him easily and padded out of the bathroom with him tucked close.

The bedroom lights were dim now, just a warm golden glow casting shadows on the walls. Third nudged the blankets aside with one hand and eased them both down into the bed, Wan still clinging, still quiet and warm and glowing with affection.

He lay back with Wan curled on top of him, head tucked beneath his chin, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt like he’d never let go.

Third stroked his back in lazy circles, murmuring, “my sweet baby” and pecked wan’s hair

Wan nodded, sleepy and content. “yours. Forever.”

“Good,” Third whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m keeping you.”

Wan’s only reply was a little hum as he nuzzled closer, one leg slipping between Third’s, the whole of him fitted perfectly in his arms.

Wrapped up in each other, they didn’t say much after that. Just warmth. Just touches. Just Third holding him close and Wan being exactly where he wanted to be.

Safe. Loved. Completely his.

Chapter Text

The rain was still light when Hia stepped into Your Sky , umbrella snapping closed with one elegant flick of his wrist. He didn’t announce himself—he never did. Everyone who worked here knew who he was. Not the boss, not on the payroll, but still the one people listened to when things got too loud, too messy, too out of place.

The music was low, the floor half-reset from the afternoon rush. He clocked a wobbly wine rack on the way in and immediately scowled. Real.

He pushed open the office door without knocking. “Why is the shelf leaning like it’s drunk?”

Real didn’t even look up from his MacBook. “Hi to you too.”

“Don’t play with me. It looks like it’s about to fall and kill someone.”

Fah was perched on the edge of the desk, sipping something fizzy, pretending to be innocent.

Real finally looked up, his mouth pulling into a grin the second he saw him. “Bee,” he said, soft, warm, like it just slipped out.

Hia ignored the flutter in his chest and crossed his arms. “I told you to check the wine rack last week.”

“I moved it,” Real said, standing like this was just a normal part of his day: Hia yelling, him smiling through it. “It’s more accessible this way.”

“To who? Giants?”

“Maybe just tall people,” Real murmured, walking over. He reached out and gently tugged at Hia’s damp sleeve. “You didn’t wear the jacket I left out for you this morning.”

“I have my own jackets.”

“Yeah, but mine smells like me,” Real said, smirking.

“Exactly,” Hia deadpanned, though he didn’t pull away when Real started peeling off his damp outer layer, replacing it with the black hoodie that lived on the office chair. His hoodie. The one Real claimed didn’t count as his if Hia wore it more.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, Bee,” Real murmured, voice low now, only for him.

Fah didn’t even look up this time. “You two flirting or fighting?”

“Both,” Real and Hia said in unison.

Real leaned in, close enough that Hia felt the warmth of his breath. “Stay a bit?”

Hia narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I like it when you’re here.”

“You see me every day.”

“And I still miss you when you leave,” Real said without blinking. “Stay, Bee.”

Hia made a noise of protest but sat anyway, muttering under his breath as he tugged the hoodie sleeves over his hands. “You’re annoying.”

Real leaned down, kissed the top of his head. “You love me.”

Hia didn’t answer.

He didn’t know—not yet—that Real had been carrying a ring in the inside pocket of that same hoodie for three days but took it out to make sure hia doesn't find out. That Fah had already agreed to close the bar early next week. He had no idea.

To him, it was just Real being clingy. Again.

Loving him loudly. Again.

And when Real sat back down beside him, shoulder pressed against his, hand brushing his without asking—Hia didn’t push him away.

He never really did.

It was the late afternoon lull at Your Sky —just after the lunch crowd cleared out, just before the dinner rush began. The scent of citrus cleaner mixed with the distant sound of glasses clinking as staff reset the tables. Inside the office, the air felt heavier than the rain that had passed earlier.

Real sat hunched slightly at the desk, scrolling through renovation plans on his MacBook, dark brows furrowed. His black shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he looked every bit like a man pretending to work while his thoughts were miles away.

Fah was perched on the opposite end of the desk, legs crossed, sketchpad open in front of him. “I’m thinking rooftop seats, right?” he said, tapping his pen against the paper. “For Teerak. Something simple but romantic. He’s been so stressed lately. Might take him out of town.”

Real looked up, blinking like he’d just realized he was being spoken to. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Fah tilted his head. “You good?”

Real hesitated, then looked back at his screen. “Just tired.”

“Sure,” Fah said slowly, not buying it. “You were fine earlier—when Hia was here yelling at the wine shelf.”

Real’s mouth twitched. “He wasn’t yelling.”

“He was using hand gestures.”

“That’s how he says hi,” Real said, smiling down at his laptop. “He acts like he hates it here, but he shows up every other day just to scold me.”

“And yet you still look like a kicked puppy every time he leaves.”

Real didn’t answer.

Fah leaned in, narrowing his eyes. “Alright, what is it?”

“…nothing.”

“Mmhmm.”

Real exhaled, finally sitting back in his chair. The words were right there—buzzing under his tongue like they’d been trying to get out for days.

“I think I’m gonna ask him to marry me,” he said, almost casually.

Fah blinked. “Wait— what? ”

Real didn’t look away. “I’m serious.”

Fah dropped his pen. “Since when ?”

Real shrugged, looking back down at his MacBook. “I don’t know. A while. It just—it feels like time. He’s… he’s everything. He always has been.”

Fah just stared at him.

Real leaned forward again, his voice softening. “We’ve been together five years, Fah. You’ve seen it. He drives me insane. He complains, scolds me in public, than loves me like
Its the easiest thing, rearranges the bar every time he’s here.”

“Facts.”

“But no one’s ever loved me the way he does,” Real said quietly, like the words had been sitting heavy on his chest for years. “I didn’t even know I could love someone like this—not really—until Hia.”

Fah stayed silent, letting him speak.

“He showed me what love actually is. Not the easy kind. Not the perfect kind. The kind that holds you through the worst parts, that sees you completely and still stays. He’s sharp, yeah. Acts like nothing gets to him. But when I’m spiraling, when I’m running on empty and everything feels too much—he pulls me in. Every time.”

Real paused, his gaze distant as he remembered.

“Hia’s small,” he said with a small, fond smile. “But when he wraps me up in his arms, it’s like I’m the safest I’ve ever been. I’ve had days where everything just feels like too much, and without saying anything, he’ll pull me close and kiss the top of my head. Then, he’ll just whisper, ‘It’s okay. You can take a break, baby.’ Like he knows exactly what I need without me saying a word. It’s never been about fixing things for me—it’s just him holding me, reminding me I’m enough.”

Real ran a hand through his hair, chuckling softly.

“One day, he just took me to the beach. Didn’t ask, didn’t explain. Just said, ‘Come with me. Let’s go reset.’ He told me to drive there, just the two of us, no plans, no agenda—just us. And even though we didn’t talk much, I felt everything. The peace of being near him, knowing he wasn’t looking for anything from me except just to be. And when I asked him what he wanted, he said, ‘For you to know that what you’re doing—whatever it is—it’s more than enough for me.’”

He paused again, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who needed someone like that. But now… I can’t imagine not having him. Hia loves me—really loves me—in a way I didn’t know I deserved. And it’s the kind of love that feels like home.”

Fah’s expression shifted, quieter now.

“And when we fight?” Real said, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Even when he’s mad, even when I’m mad—I don’t let him fall asleep crying. I just… can’t. I’d rather lose the fight than let him feel alone.”

There was silence for a beat.

Then Real added, barely above a whisper: “He’s it. He’s always been it.”

Fah sat back slowly. “…wow.”

Real smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

Late Afternoon, The door to Your Sky swung open, the familiar click of boots announcing Hia’s arrival. As always, he entered with a quiet confidence, his eyes immediately searching for the one person who always felt like home.

Real was at the back of the bar, sitting in the office with his laptop open, surrounded by blueprints and renovation plans scattered across the desk. His broad shoulders hunched slightly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scrolled through the documents. The weight of the work was clear on him—he had been at it for hours, and it showed.

Hia smiled softly to himself, watching from the doorway for a moment. The sight of Real, always so strong and sharp with the world, never failed to make Hia’s heart swell with affection. But the moment Real looked up and caught sight of him, something shifted in his expression. The hardness in his eyes softened, his lips curving up into a tired but genuine smile.

“Bee,” Real greeted, his voice low and soothing, though the exhaustion was evident.

Hia didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over quietly, dropping his bag on a nearby chair before moving in front of Real. Without hesitation, Hia slid into Real’s lap, curling into him like he belonged there, like he always did.

Real’s arms instinctively went around Hia, pulling him in tight, his large hands cradling the smaller figure with a gentleness that was only for him. Hia rested his head on Real’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Still working?” Hia asked softly, looking up at Real with those soft, dark eyes that always held a quiet understanding.

Real chuckled lightly, his hands tracing circles on Hia’s back. “Yeah. Renovations are a pain. Everything’s taking longer than I thought.”

Hia hummed in acknowledgment, pressing a soft kiss to Real’s jaw, his hand reaching up to cup Real’s face gently. “You’re doing great. You don’t need to push yourself so hard.”

Real’s lips tugged into a smile at the words, his exhaustion melting away just a little. He didn’t know how Hia did it, how he always knew exactly what to say without saying much at all. Real leaned in, pressing his forehead against Hia’s, their noses brushing lightly. “I’m fine, Bee. Just a little tired, is all.”

“You don’t have to carry it all by yourself,” Hia whispered, his voice quiet but firm, his fingers gently trailing through the hair at the back of Real’s neck. “You’ve got me.”

Real’s heart clenched at the simplicity of Hia’s words, at how much weight they carried with so little effort. His large hand found Hia’s, lacing their fingers together. “I know. I’m just… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like there’s a lot.”

Hia tilted his head, a soft sigh escaping him as he pressed a series of soft kisses along Real’s jawline, trailing up to his ear. He knew Real didn’t always want to show weakness, but with Hia, he didn’t have to be strong. He could just be himself. And that’s what Hia wanted—just to be there for him.

Real’s arms tightened around Hia, his hold possessive, like he never wanted to let him go. “You’re everything to me,” Real said, his voice rough and low, his lips brushing against Hia’s hair.

“I know,” Hia replied softly, his hands caressing the back of Real’s neck, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. His small, soft frame melted into Real’s, the contrast between their bodies striking. Real was broad, tall, rough with the world—but with Hia, he was nothing but gentle, his touch always careful, always tender.

Real kissed him back, slow and deep, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words. Hia smiled against his lips, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes, the affection in his gaze clear.

“You spoil me, you know that?” Hia teased, his voice light but filled with fondness.

Real smiled, his thumb brushing over Hia’s cheek. “I don’t think I could spoil you enough.”

Hia’s smile grew, and he leaned in, pressing a soft, loving kiss to Real’s nose, then another to his lips, then another. “I think you spoil me just right,” Hia murmured, his hands caressing Real’s broad shoulders.

Real chuckled, pulling Hia closer until he was practically in his lap, their bodies fitting together like they were always meant to. Hia’s small hands moved to Real’s chest, gently tracing the contours of his shirt, as Real buried his face in Hia’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of him.

“Stay with me tonight?” Real asked, his voice almost pleading, the exhaustion in his tone mixing with the need to just be with Hia.

Hia didn’t need to be asked twice. He nodded, snuggling closer into Real’s embrace. “Always,” he whispered, the words quiet, but the promise there. “I’m always here, Bee.”

Real’s heart swelled with warmth as he kissed Hia’s temple softly, his hands holding him as if the world outside didn’t exist. They stayed like that for a while, just the two of them—no need for words, no rush to do anything but love each other. The softness between them, the tenderness of their touch, was enough.

They were still tangled up, Hia in Real’s lap, their foreheads pressed together in the kind of quiet, easy love that didn’t need much explanation, when the office door flew open with dramatic flair.

“P’Hiaaaaa! ” Teerak called, sticking his head in with an impish grin. “Let’s go! There’s a new boba place down the street and they have glitter pearls. Glitter , P’Hia. We have to go before the TikTok kids ruin everything.”

Real didn’t even turn his head, just lifted his head lazily from where it was resting on hia’s shoulder. “He’s busy.”

“Busy being a boyfriend doesn’t count!” Teerak insisted, striding in like he owned the place. “You’ve been stuck in here cuddling all afternoon. I’m here to kidnap you. P’Fah said so.”

Real groaned into Hia’s neck, arms tightening around him protectively. “Bee, don’t go. Just stay right here. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you smell really good.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Hia muttered, his voice soft despite the words. He was already sliding a hand through Real’s hair, letting his fingers scratch gently at his scalp.

“I need you,” Real whined, already placing kisses up the side of Hia’s neck, along his jaw, soft and desperate. “What if I forget how to breathe without you?”

Teerak gasped. “P’Hia, your boyfriend is dramatic ! This is what happens when you give a golden retriever espresso and unchecked love.”

Hia tilted his head back, giving Real one final kiss on the forehead before moving his eyes in Teerak’s direction, his clear adoration for teerak showing. “Gimme a minute to coax this big puppy here?”

"Also How did your husband even let you go with me? Fah can never let you out of his sight for even a minute?" Hia muses knowing his friend's clear clinginess and love for teerak

“Because I’m adorable,” Teerak said confidently, slinking over to grab Hia’s hand like a little brother pulling his older sibling out of a funk. “Come on. You promised we’d go together.”

Real let out a low, pitiful groan, burying his face in Hia’s stomach like a kid refusing to let go of his favorite plushie. “Do you have to go?”

Hia glanced down at him with a fond expression, brushing his knuckles along Real’s cheek. “I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

“I already miss you,” Real mumbled, nuzzling into him.

Hia rolled his eyes playfully but melted anyway, because Real looked too sweet and sleepy like this—clingy and full of puppy love. Real reached behind him and grabbed his hoodie, pulling it over hia's body like a protective instinct.

“Don't forget to wear this,” he said firmly, tugging it closed around Hia’s front. The sleeves covered his hands, the hem hit mid-thigh, and on his small frame it looked more like a blanket than a clothing. Hia was wearing his red signature off the shoulder sweater exposing his beautiful skin and collarbones making real want to tag along too but he knew hia would be glaring at him like an angry kitten all day.

Hia raised a brow. “It’s not even cold and I'm already wearing a sweater?.”

“You look cute,” Real said, dead serious. “And everyone will know you’re mine.”

That made Hia’s cheeks flush just a little—not that he’d admit it. “You’re such a sap.”

“And you love it,” Real grinned, pulling him in for one more kiss, this one slow and lingering. “Come back to me quick, okay?”

“I always do,” Hia whispered back, giving Real’s cheek one last stroke before turning toward Teerak—who was practically vibrating with excitement in the doorway.

“You ready, glitter boy?” Hia asked with a teasing smile.

Teerak beamed, looping his arm through Hia’s like they did this all the time. “Only if we get matching drinks, P’Hia.”

Hia laughed under his breath, letting Teerak drag him out. As the door closed behind them, Real slumped into the chair, already missing him—but grinning like he was the luckiest man in the world.

Because he was.

The boba shop was quiet, tucked just off the street and glowing golden with the late afternoon sun. Rak had chosen a booth by the window, soft music humming in the background, and the smell of sweet jasmine milk tea curling around them.

Hia sat across from him, Real’s oversized hoodie too big on him, sleeves bunching at his wrists. He looked out the window for a moment, one hand cradling his cup, the other idly fiddling with the straw wrapper like he was in no rush to go back just yet.

Rak watched him for a beat, his voice low when he finally asked, “P’Hia… can I ask you something?”

Hia turned his gaze back to him, curious. “Hmm?”

Rak offered a small, easy smile. “P'Real’s the one?”

There was no teasing in his voice, no glint of mischief. Just quiet sincerity. The kind that invited truth.

Hia blinked, the question landing deeper than expected. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he looked down at the drink in his hands, smiled softly to himself.

“All this time,” he began, voice calm and sure, “every time I let myself fall in love with him… I did it knowing. Because there was never anyone else who made me feel like this.”

“He’s the only person I’ve ever felt truly seen by,” Hia continued. “Not the version I show the world. Just… me. And he stayed. Always.” His thumb traced slow circles on the edge of his cup. “He’s patient in ways I didn’t even know I needed. He makes room for me, holds space for me. Even when he’s tired, even when he’s frustrated.”

He glanced up, eyes glinting like something fragile and precious. “I never thought I’d want forever with someone. But with him… I can’t imagine anything less.”

Teerak’s gaze softened further, heart swelling. Hia rarely said things like this out loud—but when he did, they carried weight.

“I want a life with him,” Hia added, quieter now. “The ordinary, the messy, the beautiful. I want all of it. And if there’s something after this life, I want him there too.”

Back at the bar, the late afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the upstairs office. Real sat behind the desk, Hia’s warmth still lingering in his lap like a ghost. His shirt was slightly rumpled from how tightly Hia had been tucked into it, and there was a faint trace of vanilla and jasmine clinging to it—Hia’s scent.

He exhaled through his nose, smiling quietly to himself.

That’s how Lee and Type found him a few minutes later when they poked their heads in. “You love-sick mess,” Lee announced, flopping onto the couch without waiting for an invitation. “You look like someone just gave you a lifetime supply of serotonin.”

“Did he say something?” Type asked, more observant, taking a seat beside Lee with a knowing look.

Real blinked, slow and dreamy. “He gave me lots of kisses and even wore my hoodie.”

Glaijai strolled in a beat later, brow arched. “You’re proposing over a hoodie ?”

Real snapped out of it just enough to groan. “No. I mean. That’s not the moment. But…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his smile returning, gentler this time. “I think I’m ready.”

Lee blinked. “Wait. For real ready?”

“I’ve been ready,” Real said, pushing his laptop aside and leaning forward, fingers laced together. “he always comes back to me, always had even when he didn’t knew his feelings even when I didn’t knew how hia has became my entire world my whole existence even than, he always had came back to me” He paused, voice dropping just a little. “I want to give him a forever to come back to.”

Real leaned forward at the desk, arms crossed on the wood as the others watched him start to put his heart into words.

“He looks at me like I hung the stars in the sky,” Real murmured, eyes a little unfocused, like he was seeing Hia even now. “Even when I’ve had a shit day. Even when I feel like I’m not enough.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “It’s stupid, maybe. But I catch him looking at me sometimes like I’m made of something rare. Like he’s never going to get tired of loving me.”

Glai  leaned back in lee’s chest, smiling. “That’s not stupid. That’s exactly how it should be.”

Real’s voice dropped, soft and sincere. “I want to ask him to marry me in a way that tells him I see him the same way. That I always have.”

like the words had lived in his chest for years, waiting for the right moment to come out.

“I want to ask him in a way that shows him—he’s not just the stars to me. He’s the moment I looked up and finally saw light. Every time I wished on something, it was him. Even before I knew his name. He’s not a part of my world—he is the reason it started to make sense.”

By the time the clock crept past 2 a.m., Real was still on the couch, Hia asleep in his arms, his breathing soft and even. One hand clutched the fabric of Real’s black shirt, like letting go wasn’t an option even in sleep.

Real ran his fingers through his hair, slow and careful.

God, he was beautiful like this.

Vulnerable. At peace.

Real leaned in, kissed the crown of his head, and whispered like a confession no one else was meant to hear,
“I’ve never wanted anyone else to know me like you do.”

He swallowed hard, chest heavy with everything Hia made him feel.

“Every wish I’ve ever made, it was always you—I just didn’t know it back then.”

The weight of love, raw and real, pressed into him as softly as Hia did in his sleep.

The office clock blinked 3:17 a.m.

Real finally shut the lid of his laptop with a sigh, muscles aching, but his heart still wrapped in warmth. Hia hadn’t stirred again, curled against him like gravity didn’t matter when they were together. His breathing was steady, his face relaxed in the kind of sleep you only fell into when you knew you were safe.

Real looked down at him and smiled—soft, full of quiet awe. He pressed one last kiss to Hia’s hair, then carefully shifted, slipping his arms under his boy and lifting him with practiced ease.

Hia murmured something unintelligible against his shoulder, arms immediately winding around Real’s neck, face nuzzling into his skin like instinct.

“I got you,” Real whispered, voice rough with tenderness. “Always.”

The bar was silent as Real stepped through it, his boots the only sound against the old wooden floor. Outside, the night was cool, breezy, the kind that made the city feel gentler. Real moved toward the car, careful with every step like Hia was made of something fragile.

At the passenger side, he opened the door, and one-handedly reached into the backseat, pulling forward the familiar fluffy black blanket and the little cloud-print cushion that had become Hia’s things. They’d been in the car for years—Real always kept them there.

He settled Hia gently into the seat, adjusting the cushion behind his head, tucking the blanket around his legs like he’d done a hundred times before.

Then Real leaned in, brushing a kiss over Hia’s forehead, lingering like a silent promise.

By the time he got into the driver’s seat, Hia’s eyes had blinked open again—just a crack, barely awake. But he reached out, fingers searching for Real’s without needing to ask.

Real gave them instantly.

And Hia, in that slow, sleepy drawl he only ever used when he was completely unguarded, pulled Real’s hand to his lips.

Pressed a kiss right to his knuckles.

“I love you,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Real didn’t look away from the road, but his lips curved, and his grip on Hia’s hand tightened.

“I know,” he said softly. “I love you too, Bee. More than I know what to do with.”

And the night drove on, but inside that car, it was just the two of them. Fingers intertwined. Music low. Hearts full.

Like always.

The city was half-asleep, streetlights flickering like tired stars above them. The roads were mostly empty this late, just the quiet hum of the engine and the gentle hush of tires on asphalt.

Inside the car, everything felt warmer.

Hia was curled beneath the blanket, one leg tucked under himself, the other draped across the seat in that careless way he always seemed to melt into Real’s space. His head lolled slightly against the cushion, but his fingers stayed wrapped around Real’s hand, their palms pressed close like they were still dancing in their sleep.

The playlist Real had put on earlier drifted from the speakers—soft vocals and piano, the kind of songs that felt like kisses on collarbones and whispered I love you’s behind closed doors.

Hia didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to.

He just shifted slightly and glanced at Real through half-lidded eyes, the softest smile pulling at his lips. “You didn’t let go the whole time,” he mumbled.

Real chuckled under his breath. “Wouldn’t even if you made me.”

“You’re obsessed,” Hia teased, brushing his thumb lazily over the back of Real’s hand.

“Completely,” Real said, no hesitation, glancing over at him like he hung the damn moon.

They drove in silence for a while—comfortable, full. The kind of quiet that only existed between people who’d already said everything in the spaces between words.

Then Hia shifted again, pulled their hands toward him and pressed another kiss to Real’s knuckles, this one longer, a little more awake. A little more I see you, and I love you for everything you are .

Real glanced at him again. His boy. Still wrapped in his hoodie. Dwarfed in the passenger seat. Looking like something out of every daydream he’d never let himself have before Hia came crashing into his life.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, just because he could.

Hia scoffed gently. “You’re corny.”

“And you’re perfect,” Real shot back, easy, honest.

Hia didn’t respond this time. He just smiled that little closed-lip smile Real had memorized, the one that meant I love you more than I know how to say.

Then he scooted closer—just a bit—leaning his head against Real’s shoulder while still keeping their hands joined.

Real let his head tip to the side, rested his cheek against Hia’s hair for just a moment at a red light.

And whispered, “You feel like home.”

The song still played faintly from the speaker tucked in the corner of the room, barely audible—but hearing wasn’t necessary. Real felt it. Every lyric, every note, crawling under his skin like truth.

“I’m not afraid to be soft anymore.

You made it easy to be bare…”

Hia stirred a little in his sleep, nuzzling closer. His fingers, still clutching the fabric of Real’s shirt, twitched—like even in dreams, he needed to feel him there.

Real closed his eyes for a second, breathing in the scent of Hia’s hair—clean, warm, unmistakably his . The kind of scent that made Real’s chest squeeze, the kind that could ruin him with one deep breath.

His thumb moved gently across Hia’s cheekbone. Careful. Worshipful.

God, he felt so much for him.

It was terrifying, sometimes. The way Hia had peeled him open without even trying. How he made him soft, not just in bed, not just in words—but in every part of his life. There was no armor when it came to Hia. No performance. No walls.

Just this.

Hia—small, quiet, always looking like he didn’t mean to make Real fall harder every day and somehow doing it anyway.

Real stared down at him, heart thudding too loud for the silence.

“I love you so fucking much, Bee,” he whispered against his temple, the words cracking like a secret too fragile to speak in daylight. “You’re the only one I want to be bare with. The only one who makes all of me… enough.”

His fingers traced the curve of Hia’s jaw, then dropped to his throat—feeling the soft, slow pulse there. Real leaned in, lips brushing it gently, then kissing it like it was sacred. Like this body , this boy, this love—was the only home he ever wanted to belong to.

And the line from the song looped again, breaking him in half:

“You’re the one place I can fall apart in…”

Real didn’t just love Hia.

He needed him.

Not with desperation—but with the kind of quiet certainty that settled deep in his bones. The kind of love that no longer asked for anything… because it had already given everything .

And as Hia shifted slightly in his sleep, exhaling a soft breath against Real’s neck, Real held him closer, chest aching with how infinite this felt.

He wasn’t ready to sleep. Not yet.

He just wanted to keep holding him like this.

Like his baby boy was the only thing tethering him to this world.

Because he was.

And Real had never felt safer being undressed.

The apartment was dim, bathed in the low gold glow of the hallway light Real had left on—just enough to guide him, not enough to wake his sleeping boy.

But Hia was stirring now, blinking up at Real with heavy lids and a little squint, like even the softest light was too much.

Real leaned in, brushed the hair off his forehead, and kissed him. Slow. Warm. The kind of kiss you give someone you can’t stop loving even if you tried.

“C’mon, Bee,” he whispered, thumb stroking his cheek. “Let’s get you changed.”

Hia didn’t argue, just made a soft noise in the back of his throat, letting Real ease him up with a strong arm behind his back.

He stood there pliant as Real tugged off the hoodie he’d been wearing all day— Real’s hoodie, of course —and swapped it with the oversized soft gray tee he always reached for. It smelled like clean linen and Real. Then came the sweatpants, loose and cozy, riding low on his hips in a way that made Real’s chest feel tight and full and mine .

“You’re spoiled,” Real murmured, kneeling to fix the waistband properly, smoothing his hands over Hia’s thighs as he stood.

Hia, still half-asleep, just reached out wordlessly. Arms wide. Pout full.

“Baby… uppies?”

Real let out the quietest laugh, breath catching at how damn cute his boyfriend could be. “You’re such a menace,” he whispered, but he was already slipping his arms under Hia’s thighs and lifting him up with ease.

Hia wrapped around him like a sleepy cat—arms around Real’s shoulders, legs looped loosely at his waist, head tucking into the crook of Real’s neck like it belonged there.

Which it did.

“Smell nice,” Hia mumbled, pressing a little kiss to Real’s skin.

“That’s your moisturizer, Bee,” Real said fondly, walking them into the bathroom.

“Oh.” Another kiss. “Still nice.”

Real set him gently on the counter, reaching for the familiar bottles lined up neatly on Hia’s side of the sink. He squeezed a bit of the cleanser into his palm, then leaned in, gently massaging it into Hia’s skin, fingers slow and careful.

Hia just watched him through droopy lashes, legs swinging, letting his boyfriend do all the work.

Real rinsed him off, patting his face dry with the soft towel they always fought over.

Then came toner. Serum. Moisturizer. Real’s hands moved like he was handling something precious. Because he was.

Hia leaned forward just as Real was smoothing the last of the cream into his cheeks and kissed him. Barely a brush of lips, more warmth than pressure.

“You take care of me too much,” he whispered.

Real met his eyes.

“Not even close to enough.”

office was quiet, the muted clack of his keyboard the only sound filling the room, aside from the occasional hum of the old AC and the way Hia breathed, soft and steady, curled up in his lap.

Hia wasn’t doing much. He rarely did when he was like this—legs thrown lazily over Real’s thighs, arms loosely around his neck, cheek pressed into Real’s shoulder. He was reading something on his phone, but his attention kept drifting. It always did when Real was this close and this quiet.

Real shifted slightly, arm moving from behind the laptop to curl around Hia’s waist, palm warm and grounding against his soft t-shirt. His thumb brushed idle circles into Hia’s side, and his voice came low, like he didn’t want to disturb the peace too much.

“Baby,” he murmured, lips grazing Hia’s temple.

Hia hummed in response, barely lifting his head. “Mmm?”

Real tilted his face, pressing a kiss into Hia’s hair before letting his forehead rest there. “Can I steal you away today?”

That got Hia to blink up, eyes still sleepy but curious. “Where?”

Real only smiled, gentle and a little teasing. “Just somewhere quiet. Just us. Thought maybe you’d let me take you to the beach for a bit.”

Hia blinked again, then nodded, slow and trusting. “Okay. Only if you hold my hand the whole time.”

Real laughed softly, his heart breaking open in his chest. He kissed the side of Hia’s nose, whispering, “I’ll hold more than that.”

Hia didn’t know. Not yet. Not about the small velvet box in the glove compartment. Not about the star-shaped ring. Not about the way Real’s hands were shaking a little even now.

But he would.

Tonight, under the sky, by the water.

And Real would ask the man who had been his best friend, his reason, his home—to be his forever.

And Hia, wrapped in love and unknowing sweetness, just sighed and nuzzled into his neck.

“Then take me, Bee. I’m yours.”

The sky had already started to blush into gold as they pulled out of the city, trailing the kind of soft, burning light that made everything feel cinematic.

Hia sat curled in the passenger seat, legs tucked up, Real’s hoodie swallowing his smaller frame. He looked peaceful—window cracked just slightly, letting in the ocean-bound breeze, hair tousled from Real’s fingers and the wind. A small boba cup sat between his thighs, the condensation beading down the sides, forgotten.

And Real?

He was a mess.

One hand gripped the steering wheel, the other resting (as always) on Hia’s thigh—thumb tracing idle circles, like his body needed to anchor itself somewhere, and it always came back to Hia. The man who’d always made everything better just by being near.

But tonight—tonight was different.

His heart was thudding too fast, like it was crawling up his throat, his mouth dry even as he licked his lips and risked glancing sideways.

Hia was looking out the window, lashes low, humming something barely audible under his breath. Content. Trusting.

Real wanted to scream and cry and laugh all at once. He gripped the wheel tighter.

“Bee?” Hia’s voice broke into his overthinking, soft and curious.

Real glanced at him. “Yeah, baby?”

“You’re quiet.”

Real smiled, the kind of fragile that cracks easy. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

Real cleared his throat, looking back at the road. “How lucky I am.”

Hia turned toward him fully now, brows furrowed just slightly. “You’re nervous.”

Real blinked. “What?”

“You get quiet when you’re nervous,” Hia said softly. Then added with a faint smile, “And your thumb’s been rubbing the same spot on my thigh for fifteen minutes.”

Real groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You notice everything.”

“I notice you, ” Hia said, simple, unbothered. “and I trust you.” His hands moving to grab real’s rubbing fingers over his knuckles

And it was that —those words—that nearly wrecked Real more than the ring burning a hole in his hoodie pocket. The complete ease Hia held in saying them. The love that came without conditions.

He turned toward him again, brushing his knuckles down Hia’s cheek.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet,” Real whispered. “I want to show you something.”

Hia nodded, smile soft and wide, completely unaware that in less than an hour, Real would be on one knee in the sand, asking the only person he’d ever truly loved to spend forever with him.

The beach greeted them in hushed waves and pale gold light, the last threads of sun dipping behind the horizon like it knew it had to make space for something more beautiful tonight.

Hia stepped out of the car barefoot, the sand cool beneath his toes. He held his shoes in one hand, Real’s oversized hoodie slipping down one shoulder as the ocean breeze tugged gently at the hem. He looked over his shoulder, grin easy, hair catching the last of the sun like it had always been kissed by light.

“Come on, Bee,” he called, laughing softly as he walked backwards, waiting for Real to catch up.

And Real—he was trying. Really trying to act normal. But the little velvet box in his hoodie felt heavier than it should’ve. His hands wouldn’t stop sweating. And Hia was walking around like some dream pulled from a love story, completely unaware that Real was about five seconds from falling to his knees just from the sight of him.

He caught up eventually, fingers threading through Hia’s with practiced ease, thumb rubbing gently over his knuckles.

“You okay?” Hia asked, voice curious.

“Yeah,” Real said, voice rougher than he wanted. “Just… you look really fucking pretty right now.”

Hia blushed, nudging him with his shoulder. “You say that all the time.”

Real smiled, leaning down to kiss his temple. “That’s because it’s always true.”

They walked further down the shore, far from the other couples and stragglers. Real had scoped the spot already—small, quiet cove between two outcrops of rock, waves gentle and slow. It felt like something sacred.

Hia stepped closer to the water’s edge, letting the foam kiss his feet, arms wrapped around himself. He didn’t notice when Real slowed behind him.

The beach was quiet.

Waves lapping at the shore like they were too shy to interrupt. The sky above cracked open with stars, soft wind curling around them like blessing. And Real—Real was on one knee in the sand, breath caught somewhere between his ribs and his throat, staring up at Hia like he was the only god he’d ever worshipped.

Hia looked down at him, confused for the first time in a long time. “Bee… what are you doing?”

But Real didn’t speak.

Not yet.

His eyes trailed up Hia’s body—barefoot in the sand, clad in d sweatpants and real’s hoodie He looked so beautiful Real hurt just looking at him. Like he always did. Like he always would.

Real’s hands shook a little as he reached for Hia’s waist—gentle, reverent. He pressed a kiss there. Then another. Then another. Slow. Tender. Like worship. Like a promise in every breath. Then he looked up, and finally spoke, voice quiet, wrecked, full:

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

His fingers curled over Hia’s hips as if to hold himself steady.

“Not because it was always easy,” he added, voice cracking. “We’ve fought. I’ve been stupid. You’ve been stubborn. We’ve cried. But even on the worst days… even when I’m tired, when I’m breaking apart inside… I’ve never stopped loving you. It’s never felt like work. It’s felt like breathing.”

Hia blinked fast, lips parted, but Real wasn’t done.

He pressed another kiss, just below Hia’s navel, tears stinging his lashes now. “Because I was meant to love you. Like it was written somewhere in the stars before I was even born. Like my soul’s only job in this lifetime was to find you. To fall into you.”

He pressed another kiss. Then another, slower. One more, just above the waistband of Hia’s sweatpants—familiar, grounding, worshipful

He took Hia’s hand, kissed his knuckles one by one, then held it to his heart.

“You look at me like I hung the moon. Like I carved the stars with my hands. But the truth is—you’re the galaxy, baby. You always were.”

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” he whispered, looking up at him with eyes full of stars. “Because it feels like it’s what I was meant to do all along.”

Hia’s breath caught.

Real’s thumb rubbed over his hip, slow and shaky. “I didn’t plan this, not at first. I didn’t know what we were, where we’d end up, but baby—every day, every fucking day, I’d look at you and feel it. That this was it. That I didn’t need to search anymore.”

He kissed Hia’s hand next, holding it gently between both of his. “It’s always been you. The way you hold me, the way you stay even when you don’t have to. The way you make coffee for me at 2am just because you know I’m tired. The way you fall asleep in my arms like I’m the safest place you know.”

He blinked up, tears finally slipping past his lashes. “I know I’m not always easy. I get loud. I shut down. I try to carry everything alone. But you—you always see through it. You always stay. And that kind of love? That kind of love… it doesn’t just happen. It’s written.”

“So I’m asking,” he whispered. “Let me love you like this forever. Let me wake up beside you when your hair’s a mess and my shirt’s yours. Let me hold your hand when we’re old and ridiculous and still teasing each other at 70.”

Real laughed through the tears, wet and breathless.

He pulled out the ring box, hands trembling.

The ring nestled in the velvet box was simple—elegant in the way only something deeply personal could be. A silver band, polished to a mirror finish, caught the moonlight like it had been waiting for this exact night to shine. At its center sat a single diamond, delicate yet radiant, cut into the shape of a star.

It gleamed like something pulled straight from the sky—small, luminous, unforgettable. Like Hia.

The edges of the star were soft, just the slightest curve to give it a gentle, glowing shape rather than a sharp one. It didn’t scream luxury. It whispered meaning. It whispered “I saw this and thought of you.” It was Real in every way—intentional, aching with emotion, something quiet that held entire galaxies behind it.

It wasn’t about size. It wasn’t about cost. It was about how the moment Hia saw it, it would feel like something meant for him—like Real had caught a piece of the night sky and set it in silver, just so he could say, “This is how I see you.”

The soft click sounded like thunder in the quiet.

Hia’s lips trembled.

Real exhaled hard through his nose and laughed, breathless and shaking. “And I—fuck—I don’t know how else to say this but… will you marry me, baby?”

A beat.

Real’s eyes burned.

Then he whispered, just a little broken, “Please. Let me be yours for the rest of this life. And every one after it.”

Hia didn’t speak at first.

He just stared down at Real—this man kneeling in the sand with the ocean behind him, the wind tugging softly at his shirt, a star-shaped ring trembling in his hand, and eyes filled with a kind of love that had always terrified and saved Hia all at once.

This was the man who had kissed the softest parts of him without ever asking him to be softer. The man who had stayed through every storm Hia tried to become. The one who made love feel like something sacred.

And Hia couldn’t breathe.

His lips parted. Closed. Opened again like he was trying to find words big enough to carry the weight of this moment. His chest rose, fell—too full of everything he had never said.

One trembling hand reached out, fingertips brushing gently through Real’s hair before cupping the side of his face, thumb grazing the skin under his eye.

And then, in a voice thick with tears, Hia whispered:

“…Yes.”

Real’s breath hitched. His eyes snapped up, wide and shining like the moonlight scattered in the waves around them.

But Hia was already sinking.

Falling to his knees in the sand in front of the man who had given him everything without asking for anything in return. His hands cradled Real’s face with the same reverence someone might hold stardust.

“I would’ve said yes,” Hia whispered again, voice breaking, “whether you asked me now, or a year from now, or in another lifetime. You didn’t even need to ask. I’ve been yours for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

He leaned forward until their foreheads met, breath catching between them.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes squeezed shut. “For not knowing sooner. For hurting you when we were just friends. For all the days I made you carry that love alone. You… you’ve always loved me like I was something holy. And I—” his voice cracked again, “I love you more than words. More than time.”

Real made a small, broken sound in response, and Hia’s fingers shook as he reached for Real’s hand, pressing a kiss to the knuckles like a vow.

“All of me,” he whispered, “loves all of you. Every piece. Every scar. Every soft part you only let me see. You are everything, Bee. The gravity I orbit. The wish I didn’t even know I made.”

And then, his voice dropped even softer. A promise stitched into the stars.

“I’ll find you in every lifetime, Real. In every version of the world where we exist—I’ll look for you. I’ll choose you. Again and again.”

Real couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Neither could Hia. They fell into each other, hearts breaking open and pouring out everything they had held too long in silence.

When Real finally slid the silver band onto Hia’s finger, his hands were shaking. Not from nerves. Not from fear.

But from knowing—finally, completely—that the love of his life had always been right here.

And now, he was his.

Forever.

The ocean hummed softly behind them, waves lapping against the shore like a lullaby meant only for two.

Real still knelt in the sand, arms wrapped tightly around Hia, who was pressed against his chest—warm, trembling, real. His fiancé. His fiancé.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. They didn’t have to.

Hia’s face was buried in the crook of Real’s neck, his fingers clutching the fabric of Real’s shirt like he needed something to hold onto or else the weight of the moment might lift him into the sky.

Real’s hand stroked up and down Hia’s back, slow and careful, like grounding both of them was the only thing keeping his own heart from bursting.

“I love you,” Hia whispered. Barely a sound. Like a prayer that had waited lifetimes to be spoken aloud.

“I love you,” Real breathed back, forehead pressed against Hia’s temple. “I love you so much I think I forgot what it felt like before you.”

Hia let out a soft sound—part laugh, part sob. He pulled back just enough to see Real’s face, his thumbs brushing under Real’s eyes even as his own glistened.

“You’re crying,” he said, lips quirking even as his chin wobbled.

Real gave a breathless huff of a laugh. “You’ve been crying this whole time,” he teased back, voice cracking, thumb wiping away a tear from Hia’s cheek.

“I’m emotional, okay?” Hia said, nose scrunching as he sniffled. “My boyfriend just asked me to marry him and said all those stupidly beautiful things like he’s the hero in a movie and I’m—”

“My fiancé,” Real cut in, a soft, shaky grin tugging at his lips. “You’re my fiancé.”

That was it. Hia folded into him again with a quiet whimper, like the word had physically undone him. He whispered it against Real’s collarbone like he was trying to get used to how it felt on his tongue. “I’m your fiancé.”

Real nodded, kissing the top of his head over and over, his voice soft, trembling. “Mine. Always.”

They stayed like that for a while, kneeling in the sand, just holding each other while the stars blinked quietly above and the ocean kept their secret.

And when Hia finally pulled back again, his eyes were still glassy, his cheeks flushed, his lips pink and trembling—but the smile he gave Real was something so big, so full of love, it made Real forget what air even was.

“I love you,” Hia said again. “You know that, right? More than the sky. More than the waves. More than any version of me could ever say.”

Real’s hands came up to cup his face again, gentle and grounding. “I know.”

And he kissed him.

Not like the world was ending.

But like it was beginning again—with Hia in his arms, a star on his finger, and forever right there between their mouths.

Real scooped Hia into his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world, like carrying the love of his life through soft sand and sea breeze was something he was made for. Hia didn’t protest—just tucked his face back into Real’s shoulder, arms looped loosely around his neck, letting himself be held like he was precious.

Because he was. God, he was.

The walk to the car felt like something sacred, the kind of moment you only get once in a lifetime. The air was thick with salt and stars, and Real couldn’t stop glancing down at the soft, flushed face against his chest, the faint weight of Hia’s breath ghosting over his collarbone.

When they reached the car, Real gently opened the passenger door and leaned in, still cradling Hia close.

“You good?” he asked, voice low, lips brushing against Hia’s hair.

“Mhm,” Hia hummed, eyes fluttering open just long enough to find Real’s gaze. “I could stay here forever.”

Real smiled, thumb tracing a slow line across Hia’s cheek. “You can. Just gotta buckle you in first, baby.”

Hia rolled his eyes playfully but didn’t fight it. He let Real lower him into the seat with the same reverence someone might use to place a crown on velvet, and Real didn’t step away immediately. He reached for the seatbelt, pulled it across Hia’s chest, and clicked it into place with a soft click—and then lingered.

His hands stayed on either side of Hia’s waist, eyes locked on him like he couldn’t look away. And before Hia could say a word, Real leaned in, cupped his jaw, and kissed him.

Soft.

Sweet.

Unhurried.

The kind of kiss that said we have forever now, but I still want this moment to last as long as it can.

Hia made a soft sound in the back of his throat, one hand coming up to grip Real’s wrist, keeping him there.

When they finally parted, Real let his forehead rest against Hia’s, their noses brushing, breaths mingling.

“I’m gonna drive us home,” Real whispered, brushing his thumb under Hia’s eye again. “But just know I’m already dreaming of every morning I get to wake up next to you.”

“You’re so unfair,” Hia whispered back, voice wobbly and thick with emotion. “How am I supposed to survive this kind of love?”

Real kissed the corner of his mouth. “You don’t survive it,” he said quietly. “You live in it.”

And with one last kiss to Hia’s temple, he closed the door gently and walked around to the driver’s side, his heart full, his ring finger aching with the weight of something perfect.

Real was still crouched beside the car, buckling Hia in, hands moving with practiced care when Hia’s fingers brushed against his jaw. It was light — like a question. Like a tether.

Real looked up, and Hia was already watching him. Big eyes, soft mouth parted, gaze full of something so open it made Real’s chest ache.

“Bee…” Hia murmured, voice breathy, need curling at the edges.

And that was all it took.

Real surged forward — or maybe Hia pulled him in — their mouths crashing together with heat that had been simmering all night. Hia’s lips were soft, tasting faintly of salt and sweetness and home, and when Real parted his mouth, Hia didn’t wait.

His tongue slid past Real’s lips with a soft, desperate sound — slow, teasing, tasting. Real groaned into the kiss, hand cradling the side of Hia’s neck as he kissed back, tongue stroking against Hia’s, deepening it until they were both breathless.

Hia whimpered quietly, arms curling around Real’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer — despite the seatbelt, despite everything — and Real let him, one hand gripping the edge of the seat as he leaned in, lips slanting, tongue gliding in a rhythm only they knew.

The kiss wasn’t frantic.

It was deliberate. Deep. Real’s thumb traced soft circles behind Hia’s ear, grounding him even as their mouths moved in sync, heat pooling between them. When they finally pulled back — barely — Hia’s lips were kiss-swollen, his breath uneven, eyes hooded and shining.

Real leaned his forehead against Hia’s, voice hoarse and full of awe.

“You kiss me like you mean it,” he whispered.

Hia smiled against his mouth. “Because I do.”

They’re still in the car, parked by the quiet beach, the glow of the dashboard painting Hia’s cheeks in amber. He’s still in his seat, seatbelt half-off now, fingers tangled in the collar of Real’s shirt because he can’t stop kissing him.

And Real — Real is trying to keep it together. Trying not to devour him right there.

But then Hia lets out this breath, this whisper of a sound, as Real presses kisses just beneath his ear — and it slips out.

“Real…”

Barely a syllable. Barely. But it’s wrecked and whiny and soaked in heat.

And Real freezes.

Then groans.

Low, dangerous, wrecked.

His hand cups Hia’s cheek, firm but trembling with restraint, and he pulls back just enough to look at him — lips kiss-swollen, eyes wide, chest rising fast.

“Say it again,” Real breathes, voice like gravel.

Hia blinks, caught off guard, but his lips part again — that same needy pout, that same flutter of lashes.

“P’Real…”

That’s it.

That’s the end of Real’s self-control.

He’s back on Hia’s mouth in a second — devouring now. Not just kissing. Feasting. Tongue deep, claiming, desperate in the way that only love this big can be. One hand fists in Hia’s hoodie while the other presses at his hip, grounding him, owning him.

And Hia? Hia takes it all. Whimpering into his mouth, nails curling in Real’s chest, needy and pliant and his.

“Baby,” Real rasps between kisses, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Hia smiles into the kiss, smug, breathless, drunk on it all. “But I’ll kiss you back to life.”

Every red light is a curse and a blessing.

Because that’s when Real turns.

Eyes dark.

Jaw clenched.

And Hia already knows what’s coming.

The second the car stills, Real leans in—one hand still on the wheel, the other tightening on Hia’s thigh—and kisses him. Deep. Tongue and heat and promise. Like he’s been holding it back since the beach. Like he’s starving.

Hia gasps into it, back arching, hand flying to Real’s chest, fingers curling in black fabric.

And then—

“P’Real…” It slips out, breathy and wrecked, somewhere between a moan and a plea.

That’s it.

Real growls. Not metaphorically. Growls.

“You keep saying my name like that,” he mutters, lips ghosting over Hia’s, “and I’m pulling over.”

Hia grins—barely. He’s breathless. Eyes fluttering. A tease. “You won’t make it to the driveway.”

“Try me,” Real bites back, already leaning in again, already kissing him like he wants to climb over the console and take—

Green light.

Real slams the gas, hand back on Hia’s thigh—tighter now.

Hia’s legs squeeze together.

“Drive faster,” he whispers, voice all sugar and sin. “Please.”

By the time they pull into the driveway, Real doesn’t even remember how he parked. All he knows is that the second the engine dies, Hia’s already crawling into his lap, seatbelt barely off, kissing him like the ocean’s still roaring in his ears.

Messy. Open-mouthed. All tongue and need.

“Real,” Hia whimpers again, thighs tightening around him, voice wrecked. “Please…”

That’s the word that undoes Real.

He carries Hia inside—arms locked around his baby, the love of his life, the man who just promised forever—and kicks the door shut with his foot, lips never leaving Hia’s neck.

And Hia?

Hia’s clinging to him. Arms around Real’s shoulders. Fingers buried in his hair. Whispering soft, broken things like “love you, love you, only you,” between kisses that melt Real’s spine.

The moment they reach the bedroom, Hia’s already pulling his oversized hoodie off—Real’s hoodie—tossing it aside, revealing soft skin kissed red from Real’s mouth, a silver band glinting on his finger like it was always meant to be there.

“Mine,” Real murmurs, chest heaving, cupping Hia’s face like he still can’t believe this is real.

“Yours,” Hia whispers, pulling Real down with him. “In every lifetime. Every version of me… will always say yes to you.”

And from there—

Softness turns to heat.

Teasing turns to trembling.

And forever begins with Hia gasping Real’s name under the stars they now wear on their hands.

The door clicked shut behind them, muffled by the softness of the night, by the rush of waves still echoing faintly in their ears. Real was still catching his breath—not from the ocean air, but from Hia.

His Hia.

His fiancé.

The word hadn’t even settled fully into his bones before Hia was already stepping back, quiet fingers curling around Real’s wrist as he tugged him toward the bedroom, something unreadable—but dangerous—glinting in those dark eyes.

Real followed. Always followed. For Hia, he’d chase every lifetime.

And when the lights dimmed low, casting soft amber across their skin, Real stood frozen for a moment—because Hia turned around, slow, deliberate, and dropped his outer layers to the floor.

Beneath it?

Soft black lace around his hips. The kind Real hadn’t seen before. Delicate. Intricate. Hugging Hia’s body like it had been stitched for him alone. There was a small bow at the waistband—mock-innocent. Almost cruel.

Real’s mouth went dry.

Hia stood there, breathing slowly, biting at his lip—eyes flickering up shy, almost coy—and then spreading his legs just slightly. Not a word spoken.

But it was everything.

“Baby…” Real’s voice cracked like a prayer. Like hunger and love and heartbreak all poured into one word.

Hia’s fingers curled into the edge of the dresser behind him, breathing shaky. “You said I was your star,” he murmured. “Then burn for me.”

Real crossed the room in two heartbeats, hands slipping to Hia’s waist, gripping tight. He bent, kissed just over his belly, slow and reverent. “You’re everything,” he whispered against Hia’s skin. “I’d worship every inch of you if you’d let me.”

Hia’s breath stuttered. His fingers found Real’s hair, clutching as if he might fall without him. “You already do,” he whispered, voice thinned with emotion, with anticipation.

Real looked up, eyes burning, lips brushing over lace, over skin, over the softest places no one else was allowed to touch. “You’re mine,” he said, not possessive—but wrecked. Devoted.

“Always,” Hia whispered, trembling.

And when Real finally kissed him—deep, full, hands framing Hia’s thighs like he never wanted to let go—it wasn’t just want. It was worship. It was reverence. It was every vow unspoken, poured between parted lips and shared breath.

Tonight wasn’t about rush. It was about memorizing every version of the man who said yes to forever.

Hia shifted on the bed, thighs brushing together, hands toying with the hem of his lace that was splayed on his hips .His waist looked so soft and small, the fabric sheer, soft, cut high to stay on the tender curves of his hips,

Real hadn’t even touched him yet and he looked completely unraveled.

“P’Real…” Hia whispered, voice breathy and aching, the pout on his lips so soft it could’ve made gods fall to their knees. “Please…”

Real swore under his breath, low and rough. He dropped to his knees in front of him like it was instinct, hands sliding up Hia’s thighs, slow and reverent, thumbs stroking over the lace hem like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever seen.

“Baby,” Real rasped, eyes blown wide with need, but voice so soft it made Hia shiver. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

Hia let out a needy little whimper, leaning into Real’s touch, the lace brushing against Real’s palms as his fingers traced the curve of Hia’s hips. “Then show me… please, I need—” His breath hitched as Real kissed the inside of his thigh, hot and slow. “—need you to touch me. You’re looking at me like that and not doing anything, it’s mean.”

Real’s mouth is everywhere—gentle and deliberate. He kisses the hollow of Hia’s throat like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched, his hands warm and sure as they trace the curve of Hia’s ribs. His fingers splay over the soft skin, making sure that each brush against him is slow, measured. Real doesn’t rush. Not this time.

Hia’s breath hitches with every touch, every time Real moves down to kiss the inside of his wrist, his lips lingering there just a little too long, just enough to make Hia shudder. His chest rises and falls sharply, trying to steady the desperate need threatening to take over. Every second that Real spends exploring him feels like it might undo him, but Hia doesn’t pull away. No, he presses closer, trying to stay tethered to this moment that feels like he’s both losing and gaining everything.

“P’real…” The name trembles in the air between them, like a prayer or a plea, but it doesn’t make Real falter. Instead, it tightens something inside him, a wild hunger spreading beneath the calm. His grip on Hia’s wrist tightens slightly, drawing a soft gasp from him, and then Real’s mouth is back, trailing slow, reverent kisses across his collarbones, down to the edge of his shirt, where his skin is just barely exposed.

He’s deliberate. He’s taking his time, but Hia can feel the way Real’s body vibrates with something restrained, a fire that only he has the power to stoke. The heat between them crackles, and Hia’s hands are fisted in the sheets, his body arching toward Real as if he can’t stop it.

“You’re everything to me,” Real whispers against Hia’s skin, voice low, a promise that shatters the air around them. It doesn’t matter that it’s only been a few months since they made this choice—it feels like they’ve been building toward this moment for lifetimes. Real’s hands slide under Hia’s shirt, pushing it up slowly, dragging the fabric over his skin like a secret being revealed piece by piece.

Hia whines again, this time more urgent. “P’—Real…” His voice cracks, and Real’s breath catches. The sound of his name, whispered like a prayer, is a promise, and Real can’t help but kiss him deeper, harder, his hands moving to cup Hia’s jaw, holding him there, locking him in place so he can continue to pour all of his unspoken affection into him.

He’s everything holy. Hia feels it in the way Real touches him, in the way he’s willing to slow down time, make it stretch until it breaks and bends under their desire.

And when Real finally pulls back, just enough to look at Hia—his eyes dark with something dangerous, yet soft with tenderness—Hia feels like he’s been claimed in the most beautiful way possible.

“Mine,” Real breathes, the word like a vow, like the kind of promise that’s too strong to break. And all Hia can do is nod, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his entire body alight with the kind of love that only Real can give him.

Hia’s pulse is a drumbeat in his throat, racing with every breath like a second skin, delicate and oh so needy against the hardness of his chest. The bow at his waist? An offering, a sign that he’s waiting—waiting for Real to unravel him, to make him lose himself in the touch that’s both slow and intense.

His fingers clutch at the sheets, but it’s no use. He’s burning, aching for more,whispering against his skin as if it knows how much he needs to feel Real, how much he needs to feel like this is the moment where everything snaps into place.

“real…” Hia’s voice is barely above a whimper, eyes dark and glazed with want, the heat between his legs a constant pressure he can’t ignore. He shifts against the cool sheets, needy, feeling the weight of Real’s gaze on him even without looking. doesn’t move faster. Doesn’t give in. He watches, eyes unreadable, but Hia can see the flicker of desire just beneath the surface.

Real leans down, lips brushing over Hia’s ear, his voice a low, controlled growl. “You want something, baby?”

Hia’s hands slide down to grip at the sheets again, his breath shaky as he nods. “Want you,” he gasps, voice cracking in a way that shatters something deep inside him. He knows he’s being too much, knows he’s needy in a way that makes him feel exposed, but with Real, he can’t help it. He wants to be completely undone for him.

Real, on the other hand, stays solid. He looks at Hia like he’s studying him, like he’s taking inventory of every single detail. And when he finally moves, his fingers slip along Hia’s waist, just grazing the edge of the lace. The teasing touch makes Hia shiver, makes his breath hitch with the anticipation of something more.

“You look like you’re begging, baby,” Real murmurs, fingers trailing down the soft fabric of the lace, only to stop just before he reaches the edge. “But I don’t give in so easily.”

Hia lets out a sound of frustration, needy, wanting to press up against him, but Real is having none of it. Instead, he shifts slightly, leaning down to kiss Hia’s collarbone, soft, almost reverent. His lips leave a trail that burns, slow enough to make Hia’s hips buck, craving more.

“You have to earn it,” Real continues, his breath warm against Hia’s skin, leaving him trembling with every word, every touch. “Make me want to give you everything.”

Hia’s entire body is alive with need now. Every time Real pulls back, every time he doesn’t give him what he wants, it’s like he’s being pushed closer to madness. He’s beyond words now, just the quiet sound of his name slipping from his lips, every syllable a prayer.

Real’s patience is breaking, though. Hia’s need is too much to ignore, too palpable in the way he arches into every soft kiss, every whisper. With a final flick of his wrist, he tugs the bow free, letting the lace fall away just enough that Hia can feel the weight of Real’s gaze, the raw power in his touch when he finally presses against him.

“You’re mine,” Real breathes, voice rough with the strain of holding back, of keeping control. “All mine, Hia. And I’m gonna take my time with you.”

Hia spreads his legs with intent—an invitation, a challenge, a command, the bow now undone and forgotten, but the heat in his gaze speaks louder than any words. He’s arching, needy, but not begging—not yet. This is a power move, and they both know it.

His eyes lock with Real’s, dark and glittering with something sharp. “You gonna just look at me all night?” he breathes, voice low, a touch of bite beneath the sweetness.

Real stills, hands on either side of Hia’s hips, gaze raking slowly down his body, deliberate and slow like the stroke of a match. He doesn’t smile—doesn’t need to. There’s a kind of reverence in the way he touches Hia, like he’s the answer to every quiet wish Real’s ever made.

But he doesn’t give in.

Instead, he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of Hia’s thigh—just above the lace. Soft. Too soft. Hia’s hips twitch, but Real just keeps going, mouth brushing every inch of skin except where Hia aches. He kisses over the curve of his hip, down the line of his stomach, featherlight and maddening.

“Keep opening those legs like that and I might think you’re desperate,” Real murmurs, voice velvet-wrapped heat, and Hia’s breath stutters. Real’s thumb runs gently over the edge of the lace, teasing, but never moving past it.

“I am,” Hia sulks, frustrated now, but his voice is still syrup-thick with desire. “You’re the one dragging this out.”

Real chuckles, low and quiet, mouth brushing the bow-tied edge of Hia’s briefs. “Baby,” he says softly, dragging the word out like it’s sacred, “You think you can just lie there pretty in lace and tell me how to touch you?”

Hia glares—beautiful, trembling with restraint, eyes burning with frustration and want. “I know I can.”

That earns him a groan, the sound torn from Real’s chest like it costs him. He leans down again, kissing just below Hia’s navel, mouthing gently at the sensitive skin. His hands are everywhere—stroking, soothing, teasing. Not once does he slip beneath the lace, and Hia’s whole body is tense with the need to move, to arch, to get more.

Real presses his mouth to the inside of Hia’s wrist again, anchoring him, grounding him. “You’re the most dangerous kind of beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick now, fraying. “And I’m not gonna let you rush me.”

Hia’s laugh is breathless. “Then do something, please,” he whispers, just this side of wrecked. “I’m right here—yours.”

And that? That’s the crack in the dam.

Real doesn’t surge forward, doesn’t lose control. He just leans in, kisses the very center of Hia’s chest like a vow, and says, “I know you are. And I’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”

Then he goes back to kissing him everywhere else—but now there’s more heat behind it, more hunger.

Hia’s legs stay open, his body writhing, needy and impatient. But he’s not powerless. He’s choosing this. Offering it up like laying down his crown, knowing exactly who he’s giving it to.

Hia shifted on the bed, thighs brushing together, hands toying with the hem of lace the fabric sheer, soft, cut high to expose the tender curves of his hips, his thighs looking so soft and inviting . Real hadn’t even touched him yet and he looked completely unraveled.

“P’Real…” Hia whispered, voice breathy and aching, the pout on his lips so soft it could’ve made gods fall to their knees. “Please…”

Real swore under his breath, low and rough. He dropped to his knees in front of him like it was instinct, hands sliding up Hia’s thighs, slow and reverent, thumbs stroking over the lace like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever seen.

“Baby,” Real rasped, eyes blown wide with need, but voice so soft it made Hia shiver. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

Hia let out a needy little whimper, leaning into Real’s touch, the lace brushing against Real’s palms as his fingers traced the curve of Hia’s hips. “Then show me… please, I need—” His breath hitched as Real kissed the inside of his thigh, hot and slow. “—need you to touch me. You’re looking at me like that and not doing anything, it’s mean.”

Hia’s legs are shaking, pulled up and held apart, his thighs, barely clinging to dignity. Not that he needs it—he’s past that. His chest is flushed, lips parted, and he’s moaning into the pillow like Real’s mouth is a gift from the gods.

Because Real is right there—face buried between Hia’s cheeks, hands spreading him open, tongue slow and filthy. He’s making these soft, hungry sounds, like he can’t get enough, like he lives here. Hia’s back arches when he feels Real groan into him, the vibrations making him choke on his own breath.

“Fuck,” Hia whimpers, voice broken and high. “Real…—”

Real’s grip tightens. One hand presses firm on Hia’s lower back, the other pulling him open just enough so he can get deeper. His tongue moves in slow, greedy strokes, licking him open like he’s savoring every second, like Hia’s heat and taste are his whole world now.

Hia gasps, eyes rolling back. “That’s it… Good boy, just like that…”

Real shudders. Literally. His hips jerk against the sheets—nothing touching him, but he’s so far gone, Hia’s voice alone is wrecking him.

“You’re such a good boy for me,” Hia says again, voice syrup-slick, teasing even as he falls apart. “Look at you, eating me out like you need it…”

And Real does. He needs it. He’s gone—lost in the way Hia moans, in how he pushes back against his mouth, in the way praise drips off Hia’s tongue like honey. Every “good boy,” every gasp, every tremble—it’s everything.

Real moans again, tongue fucking into him now, slow and firm, nose pressed close. His hands are trembling, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise.

Hia’s thighs are twitching, body trembling. “You gonna make me come just from this?” he breathes. “Just from your mouth?”

Real doesn’t answer—can’t. He just groans again, deeper, licking harder, filthier, like he wants Hia to come just like this, just from being devoured.

And Hia? He’s right there. Eyes wet, voice gone, whispering, “Please don’t stop. Please, baby—keep going—”

And Real does. With everything he has.

Hia’s body is trembling, thighs open and held steady in Real’s hands,, damp from everything that’s already come before. He’s already been kissed within an inch of his sanity, made to wait and writhe and ask—but now Real’s face is pressed right between his cheeks, tongue slow, precise, purposeful.

It’s not just hunger now. It’s intent.

Real isn’t just eating him out. He’s opening him up. Stretching him with every slow circle of his tongue, every glide and press and flick. Taking his time, coaxing Hia’s body to relax, to give.

And Hia—Hia is losing his mind.

“real…” he breathes, voice barely holding together. “What are you—fuck—what are you doing to me…”

Real doesn’t answer. He groans low in his throat and presses deeper, tongue easing in, slow and steady. His hands spread Hia open, holding him with a care that borders on reverence, but his mouth? His mouth is filthy, relentless, perfect.

Hia gasps, high and sweet, hips twitching. “You’re—oh God, you’re tongue-fucking me—”

A moan spills from him unbidden, thick and aching. He grabs for the sheets, trying to ground himself, but there’s nothing solid here—just the burn of being taken apart, slow and sacred, one wet stroke at a time.

Real groans again, deeper this time. He flattens his tongue, licks long and slow, then presses in again, working him open with just his mouth. No fingers. No rush. Just heat, pressure, and skill.

And Hia can feel it—his body softening, stretching, opening under Real’s tongue. The way Real breathes against him, the way he moans like he’s the one losing it, the way he stays down there like it’s home.

“Real,” Hia whispers, not teasing now, but genuine. “You’re… fuck, you’re really gonna make me come from just this.”

Real hums low against him in answer, tongue still moving in slow, deliberate strokes that make Hia sob into the mattress. Every muscle in him is pulled taut, aching and trembling, but Real never loses rhythm. Never hurries.

He’s learning Hia’s body like this. Reading every twitch and moan. Using his mouth to map him, memorize him, stretch him till he’s open and ready and shaking.

And it’s so much.

It’s not just about getting him off. It’s about showing him—this is mine. I know how to take care of you. Let me.

Real’s mouth is slick, chin wet, breath heavy as he pulls back just a little, lips still brushing Hia’s flushed skin. His eyes are dark, nearly gone with how far under he’s gone for this—for him. Hia’s thighs tremble in his hands, parted wide and glistening, the lace bunched at the crease, forgotten.

Hia’s panting into the pillow, voice wrecked. “real—fuck, you—baby…”

Real just presses a kiss right there, slow and soft. “You’re so ready,” he murmurs, voice low, reverent. “All soft for me.”

And then, so gently, he brings one hand down—fingers slick from spit and how long he’s been working Hia open—and slides a single finger in.

Hia gasps, sharp and high, his whole body twitching. Not from pain—no. From the stretch, from the way it slides in so easy, so slow, so earned.

Real’s mouth is back on him immediately. Tongue moving with his finger, the two working in tandem, coaxing him deeper into surrender. It’s overwhelming—too much—but in the best way. Hia sobs into the sheets, back arching, muscles clenching around Real’s finger like his body doesn’t want to let go.

“Shhh,” Real murmurs against him, tongue still moving, voice low and thick. “You’re okay. Let me in, Hia.”

And Hia—Hia—he whimpers, eyes glassy, every part of him trembling. “You’re inside me,” he breathes, more awe than shock. “that’s—fuck, that’s your finger—”

Real curls it just slightly.

Hia cries out. His hand slaps against the sheets, grasping, searching, like he can’t stay grounded anymore.

“Yeah,” Real breathes, kissing around the rim, tongue teasing even as he works that single finger slow, deep. “You feel that? You’re so open for me now. Took my mouth so good…”

His voice is pure filth wrapped in honey, and Hia is melting.

One finger becomes two—but only after a long, coaxing pause, after Real’s sure Hia can take it. Even then, he moves slow. Scissoring just a little. Still licking. Still murmuring.

And Hia?

Gone. Ruined. Babbling into the pillow, hips pushing back like he needs more but can barely handle what he has.

Hia’s body is already undone—open, flushed, trembling from the tongue, the fingers, the worship. He’s panting, hair messy, wrists tangled in the sheets like if he lets go he’ll float away.

Real pulls back just enough to look at him. To take in the wreck he’s made with just his mouth and his hands. Then, quiet, grounded, he leans to the side and opens the drawer.

Hia hears the sound—the little click—and his breath catches.

“No—what—”

But Real’s already got it in hand. The toy is sleek, familiar, just the right size, already slick from where Real’s prepped it, slow and careful. He looks down at Hia like he’s something precious, something holy, and smiles—a little crooked, a little dark.

“You can take it,” he murmurs. “You’re ready. I made sure.”

Hia’s legs twitch, instinctively closing a little, but Real’s hands are there, firm and warm, guiding him open again.

“You’re gonna be so full,” Real says, voice rough, reverent. “Let me give it to you. Let me watch you take it.”

And Hia—Hia moans before it even touches him.

Real starts slow. He rubs the tip against him first, lazy little circles, teasing, watching Hia tremble. Then he presses in—just the tip. Just enough to feel that stretch again, to make Hia sob and claw at the bed.

“real—fuck, fuck—”

Real shushes him, gentle, steady. “It’s okay. You’ve got it. Look at how good you’re doing. So soft around it already…”

He pushes a little deeper, lets Hia adjust, then pulls back—just to do it again. Slow. Measured. And the way Hia whines for him? Desperate and raw?

It makes Real groan, jaw tight, his own body shaking with restraint.

“You want me to fuck you with it?” he murmurs. “Want me to fill you up and just… watch?”

Hia nods frantically, voice gone, barely whispering, “Please real, please—”

So Real does.

One hand steady on Hia’s thigh, the other working the toy in slow, deep strokes. Twisting it, pressing it just right. Watching Hia fall apart beneath him, slick and perfect and already begging without saying a word.

He leans in close, mouth at Hia’s ear.

“I haven’t even fucked your hole yet,” he whispers. “And you’re already shaking for me.”

And Hia?

He sobs.

Hia’s body is already shaking—ruined and spread wide, legs trembling where Real holds them apart. The toy moves slow inside him, steady and smooth, pushing deep every time Real’s wrist flexes. There’s slick everywhere. His thighs are damp, chest rising and falling like he’s running from something.

But Real?

Real’s calm. Still between Hia’s legs, still fully clothed, gaze pinned to Hia’s face like he’s trying to memorize every twitch, every moan.

And then—softly—he says it.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Hia blinks through the haze, lips parted. “Wh—what?”

Real’s mouth curves up just a little. “You heard me.”

The toy slides in again, deep, and Hia gasps, back arching. Real holds it there, unmoving.

“Go ahead,” Real murmurs. “You look so pretty when you fall apart. I want to see you do it with your hand around yourself.”

And that’s it. That’s the line that breaks him.

Hia whimpers, hand shaking as it moves between his thighs. His fingers wrap around himself, already slick from the leak at the tip, and the second he strokes—slow, once—he moans. Loud. Shameless.

Real groans. His hands stay firm on Hia’s thighs, keeping him spread, toy still buried deep inside.

“Just like that,” Real says, voice low and hot. “Stroke it nice and slow. Let me watch you.”

Hia’s mouth falls open, head tipped back. “P’real—”

“Yes, you can,” Real says, tone firm now. “You can do it for me. Look at you. You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

Hia sobs, hips twitching, hand working faster now. Every time the toy shifts, it brushes just right, and the combo—his own hand, Real’s voice, that slow push inside—is devastating.

Real’s eyes never leave him. His knuckles are white where he grips Hia’s legs, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t touch himself. Just watches—completely transfixed.

“Don’t come yet,” Real says, just as Hia starts to shake harder.

And Hia cries.

“please—I’m so close, I—”

“I know.” Real leans in close, lips brushing Hia’s knee. “Hold it. Just a little longer.”

And Hia tries. Tries so hard, hand slowing again, breath ragged. Toy still pulsing deep inside him, muscles twitching, slick dripping down the backs of his thighs.

“Just like that,” Real whispers. “My Hia”

The toy slips out with a wet sound, and Hia whines—high and desperate, hips chasing after the stretch he’s suddenly lost. He looks at Real, wrecked, lips parted, thighs still trembling.

But Real just leans back on the bed, legs spread wide, arms resting on his thighs. His shirt’s still buttoned. Pants zipped. Unbothered. Only his eyes betray him—dark, low-lidded, hungry.

“Come here,” he says. Calm. Final.

Hia crawls into his lap on instinct, naked and flushed, lace barely hanging on around his thighs. He straddles Real, his knees pressed into the mattress on either side, body exposed, chest rising fast.

Real tilts his head. “Now,” he says, voice like velvet and smoke, “use your fingers.”

Hia’s breath catches. “What—”

“You heard me.” Real’s voice drops lower. “Put them inside. Stretch yourself for me.”

And Hia? Hia moans, full-body, like just the command is too much.

But he listens. Because of course he does.

With Real’s eyes locked on him, Hia reaches between his legs, fingers sliding back to where he’s already wet and open, slick from everything Real’s already done. He presses one finger in, slow, and gasps.

Real doesn’t touch him. Doesn’t even move. Just watches.

“More,” he says, voice like pressure. “Give me another.”

Hia shudders and obeys, sliding in a second finger, hips rolling down onto his own hand as he starts to move—slow, careful, face flushed. His head tips forward, breath hot against Real’s throat, but Real doesn’t kiss him. Doesn’t hold him.

He just watches. Watches his fiancé finger himself on his lap while he stays perfectly composed.

“You look so good like this,” Real murmurs, voice wrecking low. “So pretty. All mine. Stretching yourself like I taught you.”

Hia moans, mouth brushing Real’s neck. “real—”

“I’m not touching you yet,” Real whispers, voice a command. “Not until you’re ready. Not until you’ve opened yourself up for me, right here in my lap.”

And Hia—Hia whimpers, fingers working deeper, his whole body trembling as he fucks himself slowly, exposed, desperate, right against Real’s clothed chest.

“Feel how wet you are?” Real asks. “That’s mine. That’s what I did to you.”

Hia nods frantically, body arching into him, but Real still won’t touch.

“You’re not gonna come like this,” Real says. “You’re gonna get yourself ready. Then I’ll make you come so hard you’ll forget your name.”

And Hia? He believes it. Every word. Because no one does this to him like Real.

Hia’s fingers are slick, buried inside himself, moving slow but desperate, breath catching with every pulse of pressure. He’s gasping against Real’s collar, thighs trembling around him, head tipped forward like he’s praying—but Real?

Real doesn’t even flinch.

He strokes a hand over Hia’s side, over his ribs, just enough to ground him. His other hand stays at Hia’s waist, steady, unmoving, like a tether. Not a single button undone. Not even a bulge pressed up against him—nothing.

Just heat. Just command.

“You’re doing so well,” Real says, low, warm, infuriatingly calm. “But don’t rush.”

“real, please—” Hia gasps, voice nearly breaking.

Real kisses his temple. His jaw. Then whispers, right against his ear:

“Add a third.”

Hia whimpers, hips twitching, and Real holds him steady with one hand on the small of his back. “You want me to touch you?” he murmurs. “Want to come on my cock? Then show me you can take it.”

Hia’s hand trembles as he pushes a third finger in—stretching himself wider, deeper, his whole body stuttering from the effort. He buries his face in Real’s neck, moaning, trying to stay quiet but failing.

Real groans, finally, just under his breath. But he still doesn’t move.

“Good boy,” he whispers, just once, because he knows what that word does to him. “Feel that? How open you are? All because of your own fingers.”

Hia’s shaking now, cock untouched and weeping between them, body aching for friction—but Real lets him hang there. Wait.

“You’re not gonna come until I say so,” Real says, and it’s not cruel—it’s loving. It’s possessive. It’s full of ache. “I want you needy. Desperate. I want to feel you clench around me when I finally fuck you open.”

“P’real,” Hia sobs, “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Real says gently, brushing sweaty hair from Hia’s forehead. “You’re already taking yourself so well.”

Then—just to wreck him—Real finally kisses him. Deep. Wet. Slow. Like reward and punishment in one. Tongue sliding into Hia’s mouth, claiming it while Hia’s still got three fingers inside himself.

And when he pulls back?

“Keep going,” he says. “I’m not done watching you yet.”

Hia’s fingers are still inside him, his breathing shallow, body shaking from holding it in, from working himself open in Real’s lap while the man stayed maddeningly clothed and composed. The lace around his thighs is wrinkled and damp. His lips are parted, red, swollen from kisses that never gave enough.

And finally—finally—Real moves.

He reaches down and wraps his hand around Hia’s wrist, gently pulling Hia’s fingers out with a wet sound that makes both of them groan. “That’s enough baby,” Real says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re ready.”

Hia just nods, blinking slow like he can barely believe it, like he’s still stuck in the place Real left him: desperate, open, trembling.

Then Real undoes the first button.

Then the next.

And Hia’s breath catches, hands twitching at his sides, because this—this—is the part he’s waited for.

Real strips slow. Purposefully. Every inch of skin revealed is a reward Hia earned through obedience, through ache. He slides his shirt off his shoulders, lets it drop behind him. His pants follow, unzipped with the same slow intent, and when he finally frees himself—hard, flushed, already leaking—Hia whimpers.

Real cups his jaw.

“You’re not gonna come until I tell you,” he says, firm. “You remember that.”

“please—”

But Real’s already pulling him in—finally pressing Hia down, guiding him onto his cock with both hands firm on his hips, the stretch incredible, earned.

Hia gasps, body folding into Real’s, clinging to his shoulders. “Oh my god—”

“You can take it,” Real growls against his throat, voice breaking for the first time. “You’ve been fucking yourself open for me. I watched you. You’re gonna take all of it.”

And he does.

It’s slow—every inch a struggle, every breath ragged—but Real doesn’t let up. He holds Hia steady, kissing his throat, his shoulder, his jaw, as he slides in deep. And when he’s buried to the hilt, Hia’s shaking, nails clawing into Real’s back.

“P’real, I—”

“I know,” Real murmurs, holding him still, not moving yet. “You feel full?”

Hia nods, a wreck. “So full, fuck—”

Real kisses him hard. “Good. Stay there.”

And he holds Hia like that. Still. Cock buried deep, not moving, just kissing him over and over—soft, sweet, devastating.

Then, finally, he starts to move.

Each thrust is deep, slow, careful—like he’s trying to leave a mark inside him. Real doesn’t chase his own pleasure—he drags it out, savoring the way Hia clings, the way his voice cracks every time Real rolls his hips just right.

Hia’s a mess. Babbling now. “real—please, I need to—”

Real grabs his chin. “Not yet.”

“Please—”

“You’re gonna come on my cock. When I say.”

And when he finally gives the word?

It’s pure ruin.

He picks up the pace, grinding into Hia deep, letting every thrust hit just right, until Hia’s sobbing in his arms. “real, I’m coming—I’m—”

“Come for me,” Real growls, snapping his hips up hard.

And Hia does—shattering with a scream, clenching around him so tight Real has to bite down on his shoulder to keep from following too fast.

But when he does come, it’s with his arms wrapped around Hia, holding him close, whispering “mine, mine, mine” into his skin.

After?

He doesn’t let go. Just rocks them through it. Kisses him soft again. Strokes trembling thighs and whispers, “You did so good for me.”

Real’s voice is soft. Too soft. The kind of softness that makes Hia’s skin prickle, his heart stutter. It’s not kindness. It’s intent.

“You’re mine tonight,” Real says, eyes low, fingers resting just under Hia’s jaw. “Say it.”

Hia swallows. “real—”

Real’s grip tightens—not rough, but firm. Final.

“Say it.”

A beat. Then, breathless, small:
“…I’m yours.”

And that’s all it takes.

Real pushes him down onto the bed—face-first, lace still clinging to his thighs, his arms pulled above his head. Hia gasps, wrists pinned by Real’s hand, legs spread by the sheer weight of him. There’s no fight. Not really. Just a tremble, a whimper, the barest squirm.

“You can say no,” Real murmurs. A breath against his ear. “You want to?”

Silence.

Then—shaky, wrecked—Hia exhales: “No.”

Real smiles. Slow. Dark. “Good.”

His hand slides down Hia’s back, over the swell of his ass, pressing between his thighs—finding him already slick, already open from before. Hia shudders when Real’s fingers dip in, slow, like he’s checking to see just how needy his boy’s gotten without him.

“Still wet,” Real says, almost to himself. “Still fucking aching, aren’t you?”

Hia’s voice breaks. “Please—don’t—”

But his hips are rolling back. Begging without words.

“Don’t?” Real repeats, voice low. “Then why are you shaking like this? Why are you clenching around my fingers like you want more?”

He pushes deeper. Two fingers. Then three.

Hia cries out.

Real doesn’t stop. He sets a slow, cruel rhythm—twisting his fingers deep, brushing over that spot inside Hia that makes his whole body tense, then pulling back before he can chase it. Every thrust is precise. Calculated. Punishing in its restraint.

“Beg for it,” Real says, low.

Hia shakes his head—just once, breath hitching. “No—no, I can’t—”

Real kisses his shoulder, his spine, his lace-covered hip. “You can,” he whispers. “You will.”

Then he pulls his fingers out—completely—and Hia sobs, his hips lifting in search of the stretch, the pressure, the relief.

“You want my cock?” Real asks, brushing the head against his entrance—just enough to tease. “You want me to take you againa, fuck you open until you forget your name?”

“Yes,” Hia breathes, broken. “Please—real—”

And Real pushes in.

Slow. Deep. All the way, until Hia’s body is arching, clenching, shaking under him.

But Real doesn’t move. He stays there—buried to the hilt, hands gripping Hia’s hips, breathing steady while Hia pants into the sheets.

“You’re going to feel every second of this,” Real whispers. “I’m not giving you what you want. I’m giving you what you need.”

And when he starts to move—slow, heavy thrusts—Hia screams.

Not in pain. In relief. In ruin.

Real fucks him with control, with purpose, holding him still when he squirms, whispering filth in his ear:

“You’re mine.”

“You sound so pretty when you cry.”

“Keep begging. I want to hear it.”

And Hia does. Begs like it’s prayer. Like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

The sheets twist. His voice goes hoarse, and still—still—Real doesn’t let him come.

“Not yet,” he growls. “You’ll come when I say.”

And when he finally does say it—when he slams deep one last time and grabs Hia’s jaw kissing him with all the force, growling “Now”—
Hia shatters.

Hia’s body goes still. Trembling. Boneless.

He’s not crying—not really—but his lashes are wet, and his mouth is parted, red and swollen. His hands curl weakly into the sheets, breath stuttering in quiet little hitches like his lungs forgot how to work. He came so hard it left him hollow, wide open, and now he’s floating—dizzy, aching, safe.

Real doesn’t move. Not at first. He stays curled around him, still buried inside, arms wrapped tight like he’s afraid Hia might vanish if he lets go.

“You with me, baby?” Real whispers, voice gone soft. Barely there.

Hia nods—just barely. “Mmh…”

That’s all Real needs. He breathes out like relief and presses kisses into Hia’s shoulder, down his spine, gentle as anything.

“Good boy,” he murmurs. “My sweet little bee…”

When he finally pulls out, it’s slow, careful. Hia flinches, and Real hushes him with another kiss, one hand already moving to gather him close. He doesn’t hesitate—not for a second. Just lifts Hia into his arms, lace-clad legs draping over his arm, and holds him like he’s something precious. Something breakable.

“You did so good for me,” Real whispers, mouth to Hia’s temple. “My baby. You were so perfect.”

Hia clings to him, arms wrapping around Real’s shoulders, fingers fisting in his shirt even though it’s wrinkled and damp.

“Don’t go,” Hia mumbles, voice wrecked.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Real says immediately. “Never. I’ve got you, bee.”

He carries him to the bathroom, heart fluttering at how easily Hia lets himself be held—how much he needs to be held. Real runs the water warm, tests it, adds a little lavender soap like always. Then he sinks into the tub with Hia in his lap, settling the smaller boy between his legs, arms still locked around his waist.

Hia presses his cheek to Real’s chest. Barely moves. Barely breathes.

Real washes him gently—like a ritual. His hands stroke down Hia’s thighs, over the lace that’s slipping lower, fingers gliding soft over the inside where he’s still flushed, still sensitive.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs.

Hia’s body goes still. Trembling. Boneless.

He’s not crying—not really—but his lashes are wet, and his mouth is parted, red and swollen. His hands curl weakly into the sheets, breath stuttering in quiet little hitches like his lungs forgot how to work. He came so hard it left him hollow, wide open, and now he’s floating—dizzy, aching, safe.

Real doesn’t move. Not at first. He stays curled around him, still buried inside, arms wrapped tight like he’s afraid Hia might vanish if he lets go.

“You with me, baby?” Real whispers, voice gone soft. Barely there.

Hia nods—just barely. “Mmh…”

That’s all Real needs. He breathes out like relief and presses kisses into Hia’s shoulder, down his spine, gentle as anything.

“Good boy,” he murmurs. “My sweet little bee…”

When he finally pulls out, it’s slow, careful. Hia flinches, and Real hushes him with another kiss, one hand already moving to gather him close. He doesn’t hesitate—not for a second. Just lifts Hia into his arms,legs draping over his arm, and holds him like he’s something precious. Something breakable.

“You did so good for me,” Real whispers, mouth to Hia’s temple. “My baby. You were so perfect.”

Hia clings to him, arms wrapping around Real’s shoulders, fingers fisting in real's hair.

“Don’t go,” Hia mumbles, voice wrecked.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Real says immediately. “Never. I’ve got you, bee.”

He carries him to the bathroom, heart fluttering at how easily Hia lets himself be held—how much he needs to be held. Real runs the water warm, tests it, adds a little vanilla soap like always. Then he sinks into the tub with Hia in his lap, settling the smaller boy between his legs, arms still locked around his waist.

Hia presses his cheek to Real’s chest. Barely moves. Barely breathes.

Real washes him gently—like a ritual. His hands stroke down Hia’s thighs, fingers gliding soft over the inside where he’s still flushed, still sensitive.

He rinses the soap away with slow, steady hands, pressing soft kisses to Hia’s shoulder, his hair, the curve of his cheek when he leans back enough to see him.

“Pretty boy,” Real murmurs. “My baby looks so pretty like this. Ruined and mine.”

And Hia—sweet, sensitive Hia—shivers like the praise soothes and stings all at once. His thighs twitch when Real’s fingers brush between them again, not to tease, not this time, just to clean him gently where he’s sticky and sore. But it still makes him whimper, burying his face in Real’s chest like he doesn’t know how to be looked at that softly.

“Shhh,” Real soothes, “I know, I know. Sensitive, huh? You gave me everything.”

He kisses the top of Hia’s head, then his forehead. “You always do.”

Once they’re out of the bath, Real wraps him in the softest towel they own. He dries him like he’s something sacred—his hands slow, reverent, his gaze never leaving Hia’s face. Then he grabs one of his own shirts and slips it over Hia’s head. It swallows him. Hangs off his shoulders. Real swears under his breath because god, he looks so good like this.

Then Real scoops him up again without a word and carries him back to bed.

He doesn’t stop touching him. Not once. Not while pulling the covers up, not while settling them both down. Hia ends up half in his lap, curled into his chest, one leg thrown over Real’s thigh like he’s trying to climb inside his skin.

“You good, baby?” Real murmurs again, fingers brushing back damp strands of hair.

Hia hums. “…Just stay close.”

“Always,” Real whispers, pressing a kiss right between his brows. “I’m right here, bee. You’re not going anywhere without me.”

Hia shifts, presses his face against Real’s neck. “You’re warm…”

Real smiles. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Hia echoes, sleepy. “Forever.”

Real’s voice goes low, gentle, wrapping around them both. “That’s right, baby. Forever. You’re mine and I’m yours. You don’t ever have to ask.”

And he keeps whispering, even as Hia drifts off, lips brushing his temple with every vow:

“You’re safe.”
“I’ve got you.”
“My sweet bee.”
“My baby.”
“My everything.”

Until Hia’s breathing evens out and all that’s left is the sound of Real’s heartbeat—steady, sure, and entirely, irrevocably his.

- BONUS

“Bee,” Hia murmurs from the couch, voice soft, sweet, and just a little sing-songy.

Real hums distractedly. “Mm?”

Hia blinks slow, lashes fluttering like he knows what it does to him. “I’m bored.”

Real doesn’t look up. “You’ve been watching me for ten minutes. I told you I just need to finish these files—”

Hia gets up. Pads across the office. Barefoot. Quiet. His steps are light, like he’s stalking his prey. And then—without warning—he straddles Real’s lap, knees on either side of his thighs, settling down with a sigh right there.

Real freezes. His fingers hover above the keyboard like they forgot how to type.

“Hia…” His voice is strained already, warning barely hanging on.

But Hia tilts his head, all faux-innocence and glinting eyes. “I missed you.”

Real swallows. “You were here all day.”

Hia leans in, his lips brushing just under Real’s ear. “Yeah, but you were working.”

He shifts just slightly in Real’s lap, making his point. His hands slide under Real’s shirt, palms warm, slow.

“Bee,” Real groans, head falling back against the chair, “you’re dangerous.”

“I know,” Hia whispers. He presses one soft kiss to Real’s jaw. “But I’m your problem.”

Real grabs him by the hips, not rough, but firm enough to make Hia shiver. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Hia grins. “Not before you take a break.”

And when Real finally caves—closing the laptop, pulling Hia in closer, pressing kisses to his collarbone like a man starved—Hia hums in triumph, smug and breathless.

Chapter Text

Save can say he LOVES HIS DRAMATIC FUNNY AND HIS PUPPY LIKE BOYFRIEND but sometimes he just wants to bang his head against the wall for instance:

Save was doing his work for the band which requested custom made outfits and that was painful already and auau was well he was not letting save do any of it, he would snatch his ipad away carry him to their bedroom and what not at last save put him in time out. Big mistake.

The next day, he wears a shirt that says “MY BOYFRIEND DOESN’T LOVE ME” to rehearsal. He posts an Instagram story holding a cardboard sign that reads: “Save baby, please reply to my texts. I miss you more than my sleep schedule.”

Than the next day

He turned around slightly, the towel dipping lower. “Maybe if I flash the city, he’ll remember I exist.”

Save was up in two seconds.

The balcony door slammed open.

“Are you seriously trying to strip on live again?”

Auau turned slowly, grinning. “Did it work?”

Save’s cheeks were pink. “You’re insane.”

“You’re ignoring me.”

“I was giving you space.”

“I don’t want space,” Auau said, stepping forward, eyes soft but wild. “I want you. Touch me. Yell at me. Step on me. Just do something.”

Save rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”

“Your idiot.” Auau stood, lifting him effortlessly by the waist and tossing him onto the bed, pinning him down with the softest grin and the hungriest eyes.

“I wore lace for you,” Save said, finally shy underneath it all.

“And I’m using my teeth to take it off.”

“Holy shit,” Auau whispered breathlessly when they broke apart. “I think I’m in love with you again.”

“You’ve always been in love with me.”

“I know.” Auau rested his forehead against Save’s. “You’re my pretty little devil.”

“And you’re my dumb, puppy.”

“Woof,” Auau said immediately.

Save blinked. Then cackled. “Oh my god, you’re actually insane.”

“Touch me and I’ll bite,” Save warned, voice soft but eyes sharp, teasing.

Auau groaned like it physically hurt. “You’re so mean to me.”

“You like it.”

“I do. I really, really do.” He nuzzled into the side of Save’s neck, hands still hovering. “But if you keep looking like that, I’m going to explode.”

Save leaned up on one elbow, letting the lace slip slightly down one shoulder. He was all pale skin and smug smirks, dragging one finger lazily up Auau’s chest like he had all the time in the world. “What, this?” he asked innocently, shifting his hips just enough to make Auau whimper.

Auau sat back on his heels, hands fisting in the blanket to not touch. “You’re evil. You’re—you’re a walking sin in lace shorts.”

“Am I?” Save tilted his head, then sat up fully, straddling Auau’s thighs like it was nothing. His fingers trailed over the thin chain around Auau’s neck, tugging him closer just enough to feel breath against breath. “You gonna behave, puppy?”

Auau was dizzy, his brain pure static. “If you tell me to, I will.”

“Beg,” Save said sweetly, smile sharp like a knife dipped in honey. “Beg for a kiss.”

“Please,” Auau breathed immediately. “Please, Save—bee—I’ll do anything. Just let me kiss you. Let me touch you. I’ll write five albums about you. I’ll put your name on my guitar.”

“Too easy.” Save leaned in, brushed his lips right next to Auau’s—but didn’t kiss him. “Try harder.”

Auau growled low in his throat, one hand finally breaking free to slide up Save’s thigh over the lace, voice desperate now. “Baby, please—I’ll get down on my knees, I’ll cancel my tour, I’ll block my fans, I’ll get a plane to fly a banner with “i love my boyfriend” if that’s what it takes.”

Save finally laughed, soft and dangerous. “That’s what I thought.”

The rehearsal area-

The second Save stepped into the rehearsal studio, the first thing he saw was skin.

Auau’s skin. Shirtless. Gleaming under the lights, abs flexing, sweat dripping down his toned chest as he messed around on stage with the band—grinning like he wasn’t committing crimes against his own boyfriend’s sanity.

Save blinked. Paused.

Then narrowed his eyes.

He stalked in silently, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, black mask up to his nose, eyes locked on one thing: his very shirtless, very loud, very surrounded-by-people boyfriend.

Auau spotted him instantly.

He brightened like the sun, waving from across the room like a golden retriever who just saw his owner come home. “Save—!”

Save looked him up and down. Slowly. Judgmentally.

“Why are you shirtless?” he asked flatly, voice muffled behind his mask but sharp enough to cut.

One of the staff snorted. Another laughed. “He said it was hot,” someone offered.

“It is hot,” Auau added, jogging over, still half-naked, hair a mess, chest heaving. “Wanna touch?”

“No,” Save said instantly, eyes glued to the way his boyfriend’s sweat dripped right between his pecs. “Put a shirt on.”

Auau blinked. “Are you… jealous?”

“No.” Save’s ears turned red. “You just look stupid.”

Auau leaned in, grinning. “You think I look hot.”

“I think you look like an attention-seeking manchild.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“Because someone wouldn’t stop texting me ‘I miss you’ with 400 emojis.”

Auau beamed. “Because I missed you.”

Save rolled his eyes, tugging his mask down just enough to mumble, “Put a damn shirt on before I lose it.”

“Oh?” Auau leaned closer, pressing their foreheads together. “Gonna punish me, pretty boy?”

Save’s breath hitched. His glare faltered.

“…Maybe.”

Auau’s grin turned wolfish. “Then I’ll stay shirtless.”

And Save? He grabbed him by the wrist, turned, and muttered under his breath: “Five minutes. Dressing room. Now.”

Auau nearly tripped running after him.

Save didn’t say a word when the dressing room door shut behind them. Didn’t look at Auau. Just pulled his hood down, fingers twitching at his sleeves.

Auau opened his mouth to say something—maybe to tease him—but then Save turned around. Slowly. Calmly. And stared at him like he was something disposable.

“You really had to be shirtless?” Save said, voice soft, quiet. Too quiet.

Auau blinked. “It’s a dance rehearsal—”

“In front of everyone?”

“They’ve seen me shirtless a hundred times, baby.”

“Not when you’re mine.”

That made Auau stop. Because Save didn’t say things like that. Not out loud.

Save stepped closer, until his fingers brushed the waistband of Auau’s sweats. He still hadn’t looked him in the eyes. “You flirt with them?”

“No,” Auau said quickly. “Never.”

“Good.” Save tugged the waistband down a few inches. Just enough to make Auau shiver. “Because I’ll make sure they know you’re taken.”

Before Auau could say anything, Save tilted his head and pressed his mouth to the top of his boyfriend’s chest—slowly sucking a mark into the skin, right where his shirt wouldn’t cover it.

Auau gasped. Hands gripping Save’s waist like he was the one being hunted.

“Save—”

“Shh.” Save kissed lower, then licked over the mark he left. “Don’t make noise. You like attention too much already.”

“Hy—Save,” Auau choked, breath stuttering. “You’re not usually like this.”

“I saw you with them,” Save whispered, finally looking up. His eyes were unreadable. “And I got mad.”

Then he pushed Auau to sit on the bench and slid onto his lap—quiet, elegant, completely in control. The shirt falling off one shoulder, eyes calm but dangerous.

“Touch me,” he said simply. “But keep your shirt on next time. Or I’ll leave more.”

Just then—

Click. The door cracked open.

“Auau, you’re—oh my God.”

Save didn’t even flinch.

He turned slowly toward the staff member, perched delicately in Auau’s lap, sleeves falling over his fingers, hickeys blooming across his boyfriend’s chest.

“…Get out,” he said softly.

The door shut faster than it opened.

Auau was stunned. Dazed. A little dizzy.

And Save just leaned in again, brushing their noses together.

“Mine,” he whispered, like a secret he didn’t mean to say.

Auau’s breath hitched. “Yours.”

Auau was still gasping, dazed, lips bitten red from all the kisses Save had left behind like a warning—fingernails marked down his arms, mouth still tingling from where Save had sucked hard under his jaw. And Save? Save looked untouched. Smoothed hoodie back into place, hair flawless, expression cool as always.

He turned toward the mirror, casually checking his reflection.

“Don’t text me for the next three hours,” Save said, fixing his sleeves. “I’ll be working.”

Auau blinked. “You just—Save, you were just on my lap five seconds ago, and now you’re going back to work?”

“Mmhm.”

“You said—”

“I said don’t text.”

Auau whimpered. Whimpered.

Save finally looked at him, lips curved just slightly at the corner. “Be good, baby.”

That was it. That was the kill shot.

Auau slumped back on the bench like he’d been shot in the chest. “You called me baby ……sweetly.”

And with that, Save turned and walked out of the dressing room like he hadn’t just lit his boyfriend’s soul on fire.

Thirty Minutes Later:

Auau went insane.

He posted a cryptic Instagram story with a close-up of Save’s ring on his finger and the caption: “He told me not to text… So I’ll scream instead.”

He started a livestream on his insta where he sang five sad love songs in a row, completely shirtless, hair messy like he was being haunted.

Then he messaged Save a series of increasingly dramatic messages:

baby please
please come back
i can’t work without u
i can’t breathe without u
i’ll leak a song about u if u don’t answer
save ur name is literally in my drafts
save i’m not joking
SAVE.
okay but when u called me baby? i cried.
i’m crying rn
come back and call me baby again or i’ll walk into traffic

Still: no reply.

So Auau resorted to the most unhinged act of all.

He showed up at Save’s studio. Hair wild, sweatshirt wrinkled, eyes wide with devotion.

Save didn’t even look up from his laptop. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I lasted forty-three minutes,” Auau whispered. “That’s a record.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“I am.”

Save looked at him then. Cool and unreadable.

“…Fine. One kiss. And then you sit on the couch and be quiet.”

Auau immediately melted. “Yes, baby.”

Save blinked. “Say it again.”

Auau just grinned

Save turned back to his screen, but not before the smile tugged at his lips.

Auau hadn’t moved from the studio couch since Save told him to sit and be quiet.

Forty-three minutes of absolute, vibrating restraint.

He was twitchy, bouncing his knee, chewing his thumb ring, watching Save—who sat cross-legged on the floor with his laptop, hair clipped up, black hoodie slipping off one shoulder, delicate lace waistband still peeking out when he leaned forward.

Beautiful. Dangerous. Untouchable.

Auau was suffering.

And then—finally—Save closed his laptop, stretched his arms overhead like a cat, and said, “I’m done.”

Auau perked up. “Can I—”

“No.”

Save stood, graceful and bored, walked across the room like he didn’t notice the way Auau stared at his thighs in those loose black shorts.

Then, without a word, Save climbed right into his lap.

Folded himself down slowly, lazily, one knee on either side of Auau’s hips, hoodie still swallowing him whole, lace straps brushing warm against Auau’s jeans. He draped his arms around Auau’s neck and tucked his face into the crook of his shoulder.

Auau stopped breathing.

“Hy—uh—Save,” he whispered, voice cracking like glass.

“Mm,” Save hummed, pretending to be half-asleep, “You’re warm. Don’t talk.”

Auau’s hands hovered, unsure where to hold. “Are you cuddling me because you want to or just because I’m a seat?”

Save didn’t answer.

Instead, he wriggled just enough to settle more comfortably—pressing right against Auau’s lap—and whispered in his ear, low and threatening:

“…Touch my phone again and I’ll block you.”

Auau made a dying noise.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t dare breathe wrong. Just wrapped his arms around Save’s waist like he was holding the crown jewels.

And Save, with one soft sigh, melted into him like he’d belonged there all along.

He was sweating.

Because Save had fallen asleep in his lap like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t just ignored Auau all day, insulted him once for breathing too loud, and then climbed into his arms like a kitten looking for a warm place to nap.

And Auau had melted.

His hands rested on the dip of Save’s waist, thumbs brushing bare skin when the hoodie slipped up just a little. Save didn’t flinch. Just breathed out soft, shallow, dangerously peaceful. Lace dragging against Auau’s lap with every tiny inhale.

And then—

Save shifted.

Just slightly. A soft sigh. A sleepy wriggle.

And he ground down against Auau’s thigh.

It wasn’t intentional. Probably.

But it was deadly.

Auau nearly cried.

His whole body flinched. Hands squeezed too tight. Mouth opened like he was going to beg God for mercy, except God wasn’t listening and Save just snuggled closer, oblivious. Or pretending.

Then, like a curse whispered into the still air:

“…baby.”

Save said it. Soft. Half-asleep.

Auau died.

He made a noise—something between a gasp and a whimper and a sob. Save twitched. Didn’t lift his head. Just mumbled, “…stop being loud,” like Auau was the one sinning.

“I’m gonna pass out,” Auau whispered, voice breaking. “You’re actually trying to kill me.”

Save didn’t answer.

He shifted again. His hips moved—slowly—just once more. Enough friction to make Auau see stars behind his eyes, hands flying to grip Save’s thighs because his body refused to stay respectful anymore.

“…Save,” he choked.

And Save? Still with his face in Auau’s neck, still barely awake, whispered—

“Shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

Auau bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

Save was still in his lap, still warm and boneless like he hadn’t just destroyed Auau’s will to live.

His face pressed to Auau’s neck, lashes brushing skin, the softest sigh leaving his lips as he wriggled again—again—and pretended it was innocent. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. Like his thin shorts weren’t rubbing just right against Auau’s thigh, and that pretty little lace strap wasn’t taunting him every time it shifted just a little lower.

Auau clenched his jaw.

Save breathed out again. That little twitch in his hips. That subtle grind. And when Auau moved just slightly—hands curling tighter at Save’s waist—Save made a sound.

A quiet, barely-there gasp.

Auau didn’t move for a long moment. He didn’t dare.

But Save shifted again, hoodie riding up at the hem. A sliver of skin. Warm, soft, perfect. Auau’s thumbs brushed it gently, reverently. He swore he felt Save shiver.

“…You’re not asleep,” he whispered into Save’s hair, voice low and trembling with restraint.

“Am,” Save muttered. But his fingers curled into Auau’s chest like a threat and a plea all at once.

Auau leaned back slightly, forcing Save to slide just a little more into his lap. Save tensed. His thighs clenched, and when he moved to sit up—embarrassed, probably, caught in the act—Auau grabbed his waist again and held him there.

“Stay.”

Save stilled. He didn’t fight. But he glared, red-cheeked and twitchy, and hissed, “Don’t be arrogant—”

“Jiww,” Auau murmured, calm and devastating. “Behave for phi.”

Save’s breath caught.

For one long second, his whole body went still.

Then his gaze flicked down, lashes low, his throat bobbing as he swallowed something that looked a lot like surrender.

Auau smiled.

He let one hand drag slowly up Save’s spine, under the hoodie now, over smooth skin and the softest dip of his back. Save flinched again—nervous, angry, aroused, he didn’t know—but he didn’t stop it. He only bit his lip and stayed perfectly still, like his body was waiting to be told what to do.

“You’ve been bratty all day,” Auau murmured, nose brushing along Save’s jaw. “Picking fights. Throwing looks. And now you’re in my lap soaking through lace, pretending you’re not the sweetest thing alive?”

“I’m not—”

Auau pressed his thumb just beneath the hem of those shorts.

And Save choked.

His knees twitched around Auau’s hips, his body jerking like he’d been shocked, and a soft, humiliating moan spilled from him before he could stop it. His face went scarlet.

“Oh?” Auau whispered, cocking his head. “There you are.”

“I hate you,” Save breathed, voice shaking.

“No, baby,” Auau murmured, dragging his lips down Save’s throat with slow, hot kisses. “You want me.”

He let his hand slip deeper, down the curve of Save’s thigh, his grip roughening just slightly.

“I can smell it,” he whispered, licking once just below Save’s ear. “You smell like strawberries and need. Like you’re begging to be touched.”

Save whimpered again—this one smaller, breathier, ruined. His hips twitched.

“You want to come on my hand, jiww?” Auau murmured. “Want to grind down and let me feel how wet you are?”

“…No,” Save rasped, but he was arching already, his mouth open around a bitten-off cry as Auau rubbed slow, steady circles along the inside of his thigh.

“No?” Auau chuckled. “Then why are you trembling?”

Save didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Because Auau pressed his mouth back to his neck, trailing kisses down the sharp line of his shoulder. And his hand—God, his hand—slipped between lace and skin and didn’t go any further. Didn’t touch where Save needed him. Just hovered there.

Hot. Teasing. Waiting.

“Ask nicely,” Auau whispered. “Be good for me.”

Save was still trembling.

Still pretending not to melt.

But his legs spread wider.

And his voice broke.

“Please,” he whispered, lips ghosting over Auau’s shoulder. “Touch me.”

Save was seconds from falling apart—barely breathing, barely thinking.

His back was pressed to Auau’s chest, hoodie bunched up around his waist, lace panties soaked and clinging, soft thighs spread wide over Auau’s lap. One of Auau’s hands was buried between them, slow, relentless, knuckles shining. The other was gripping Save’s waist like he was something precious and fragile and made to be ruined.

Then—
Bzzz. Bzzz.

The phone on the coffee table lit up.

Manager: Calling.

Save whimpered. Auau’s fingers didn’t stop. He moved slow and deep, dragging across lace with purpose, like he wanted to see Save try to fall apart while keeping his voice steady.

The phone buzzed again.

“Pick it up,” Auau murmured, lips brushing the shell of Save’s ear.

Save blinked, dazed. “W-What?”

“You heard me.” A kiss to his jaw. A breath down his neck. “Be polite. Be a professional.”

“I—can’t,” Save gasped, back arching. “He’ll hear—”

“You’ll be good for me.” Auau’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Or I’ll put it on speaker.”

Save grabbed the phone with trembling fingers, answering with a sharp inhale he couldn’t hide.

“H-Hello?”

His voice cracked. Sweet. Too sweet.

“Save! Finally. I’ve been trying you for ten minutes. The designer just sent the final concepts for the tour fits—you need to approve them today.”

Auau didn’t pause. He slipped a finger beneath the lace, deeper now, curling it just so. Save twitched violently in his lap.

“Y-Yeah,” Save breathed. “I—I can… look now.”

“Good. I’ll forward the files—hold on.”

Save gripped the phone tighter, legs trembling as Auau’s teeth scraped his shoulder, fingers dragging slow, devastating patterns inside him.

“Oh,” his manager added. “And they’re asking if you want the red mesh or the white leather for the Bangkok opener. You said something about lace last time?”

Auau looked down.

Right at the lace panties pushed halfway aside.

He smirked.

Save nearly sobbed. “I—um—yes. Lace is…” His breath caught. “Fine.”

“Which one, though?”

Save bit the inside of his cheek. “Whichever… looks… best on me,” he said, strangled.

His manager chuckled. “Confident today, huh?”

Auau leaned up to whisper, voice thick with smugness: “He should be.”

Save’s hand shot back to slap his chest weakly. “Shut up,” he hissed into his shoulder.

“What was that?” the manager asked.

“N-Nothing,” Save replied, voice breaking.

A particularly deep thrust had his hips jerk forward, body trembling so hard he almost dropped the phone.

“I’ll text you everything. Approve ASAP. And Save? No disappearing again. You have work to do.”

The second the call ended, Save tossed the phone away like it burned him.

“You’re evil,” he snapped, breathless and furious and flushed. “Actual villain behavior.”

Auau didn’t deny it.

He just nipped Save’s earlobe and murmured, “You didn’t stutter once. Good boy.”

And then he hooked both hands under Save’s thighs and pulled him in, deeper, closer, like he wasn’t done yet.

“Now let’s get you out of these,” Auau whispered, snapping the lace.

Save gasped, then growled, back arching—
“Only if you beg.”

The studio was quiet except for the sounds of heavy breathing, the rhythmic creak of the couch beneath them, and the occasional gasp that escaped from Save’s lips. His back was pressed flush against Auau’s chest, his body trembling in the older man’s arms. Save’s legs were spread wide, feet barely touching the floor, while Auau was buried deep inside him, each thrust sending shockwaves through his body.

Auau’s hands were everywhere—one gripping Save’s hip, the other tangled in his hair, holding him steady as his hips slammed into him with relentless precision. Save’s head was tilted back against Auau’s shoulder, his neck exposed, the soft skin there bruising from the sharp bites that Auau had marked him with.

Save’s breath came in ragged bursts, each breath caught in his throat as Auau hit that deep spot inside him again, over and over, in perfect, punishing rhythm.

“You feel so fucking good,” Auau muttered, his voice husky and strained as he dragged his hands down Save’s body, his fingertips grazing across the soft skin of Save’s stomach before finding his hips again, pulling him closer with each thrust.

Save could barely respond, his head falling back as a strangled whimper escaped him. “P’au,” he gasped, hands gripping the couch cushion for dear life as Auau’s pace didn’t slow, didn’t give him any relief. Every inch of him felt consumed by the intensity of it. His body was trembling, every nerve ending on fire with the need for more.

Auau smirked against the shell of his ear, his breath hot as he spoke in a voice thick with lust, “I know you want to call the shots, jiww, but I’m the one wrecking you now.” He punctuated the statement with a hard thrust that had Save’s breath hitching, his whole body bowing toward Auau’s chest, hands scrambling for anything to hold onto.

The sight of Save so vulnerable, so completely undone, drove Auau wild. He moved faster, harder, his own control slipping with every desperate sound that left Save’s mouth. He could feel Save’s body tightening around him, the friction between them only pushing him closer to the edge.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” Auau groaned, one hand shifting to wrap around Save’s throat, just enough pressure to make the younger man gasp and whimper as his legs trembled under the weight of it. “So perfect, you were made for this.”

Save’s whole body shook from the overwhelming sensation, his skin damp with sweat, chest heaving with each breath as Auau’s pace increased. His fingers dug into the armrest, knuckles white, but his body surrendered completely to the sensation, arching toward Auau as if he couldn’t get close enough. “Auau… P’au, please…”

Auau’s voice was low, teasing, a breathy growl against Save’s ear. “You want more?” he asked, his fingers digging into Save’s waist as he continued his unrelenting pace. “Tell me you want more.”

Save’s hips pushed back against him in an instinctual plea, every inch of him craving the release Auau was taking his sweet time in giving. His voice, now breathless and shaky, barely made it out: “I… want more…”

Auau’s grin was evident in the way he thrust harder, deeper, pulling every ounce of breath from Save’s lungs. He was wrecking him. The way his body moved with such force, so rough and fast, it was enough to make Save feel completely undone, every inch of him trembling and broken.

But then, just as Save was on the verge of losing all sense of control, the vibration of a phone broke the moment. It buzzed loudly on the coffee table, cutting through the intensity of the room.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Save’s mind barely registered the sound, not at first. But the buzz came again, more insistent.

Auau paused, his grip tightening around Save’s waist as his chest heaved with exertion. “Pick it up,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, but there was that devilish smirk tugging at his lips. “Answer it, jiww. You wanted to be professional, right? Pick it up.”

Save’s eyes widened, his entire body stilling as the words sunk in. No. Not now. Not when he was so close. But the damn phone…

Bzzz. Bzzz. The screen lit up with a FaceTime call.

Auau grinned, his lips brushing against the back of Save’s neck as his hands worked even harder, fucking into him with an almost cruel precision. “Answer it, Save,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement and dominance. “Pick it up. Let’s see how professional you really are.”

Save’s hands clutched the couch cushion beneath him, his fingers digging into the fabric as he tried to steady himself, but the more he tried to hold back, the more Auau pushed him to the edge. Every thrust, every deep stroke, drove him closer to the breaking point. His body ached for more, the heat inside him growing unbearable.

Then, the phone buzzed on the coffee table.

It was a FaceTime call from Save’s manager.

“Save?” the manager’s voice came through, unaware of what was happening on the other side. “Got a minute to talk about the schedule for next week? I need your confirmation on a few things.”

Save’s body shuddered, the intrusion cutting through his fog of lust. His chest heaved with every breath, his eyes widening in frustration. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t think, not with Auau buried so deeply inside him. The sensation was too much. The manager’s voice, so casual, was only adding to the pressure building inside him.

“Uh…” Save’s voice wavered, his grip tightening on the couch as Auau’s movements became more frantic, more demanding. His body couldn’t take it. He couldn’t focus on anything but the way Auau’s hips slammed into him. He was losing control, and he didn’t care anymore.

“Save?” The manager’s voice persisted, unaware of the chaos happening on the other end. “Are you there?”

With a desperate, trembling hand, Save reached for the phone, his fingers shaking as he answered the call, forcing the device to his ear despite the tight grip Auau had on his body. The moment their manager’s face appeared on the screen, Save knew he couldn’t keep it up any longer.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m here,” Save choked out, his voice breathless, strained. His entire body was trembling as Auau kept pounding into him, making it impossible to keep his composure.

Auau’s hands were relentless, his thrusts steady, pushing Save further into the abyss. “You’re doing so good for me, jiww,” Auau whispered against Save’s ear, his voice thick with lust. “But you’re not paying attention. Focus, baby.”

Save’s mind swam, caught in the rush of heat and desire, but the manager’s voice continued, oblivious to the chaos on the other end. “I need your input on a few things for next week, man. I just wanna confirm—wait, who’s that with you?”

Save’s heart skipped a beat, and his eyes shot to Auau’s face. The moment was too much. Save couldn’t hide the flushed look on his face, the sweat clinging to his skin as Auau continued moving behind him. But Save was too far gone to care, too consumed by the heat coursing through him to think straight.

Auau, ever the tease, looked down at Save, his lips curling into a grin as he slid a hand up Save’s chest, deliberately brushing against his nipple. Save gasped, trying to focus on the call, but all he could feel was Auau’s presence, his weight, his touch, as he ruined him in the most delicious way.

“Uh… Save, who’s that? You guys just… hanging out?” The manager asked, sounding confused but completely unaware of what was actually happening.

Save couldn’t hold back any longer. His hand trembled as he answered, trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice. “Yeah… just… p’au came to visit,” he whispered, trying to sound normal despite the way his body betrayed him.

The manager gave a casual chuckle, clearly thinking nothing of it. “Cool, cool, just making sure you’re all set for next week. Don’t forget about the press event on Wednesday, alright? We’ll catch up then.”

Save’s eyes fluttered shut, trying to keep it together, but the overwhelming sensation of Auau inside him, fucking him like this, was too much. The manager kept talking, but Save couldn’t hear him anymore. All he could hear was the sound of his own breath, the sound of Auau’s body slapping against his, the desperate whimpers escaping from his throat.

“Cut it,” Save hissed, his voice low but commanding, his frustration boiling over. Without thinking, he swiped the screen to end the call, cutting off the manager mid-sentence.

He tossed the phone aside and in that instant, the floodgates opened. He lost all semblance of control, his body arching as Auau’s movements sent him spiraling. Save let go completely, his hands grabbing at Auau’s wrists, pulling him closer as he gave in to the sheer pleasure flooding his senses.

“Don’t stop,” Save whimpered, his voice breaking with need. “Don’t stop, P’au… please.”

Auau, seemingly encouraged by Save’s plea, only intensified his movements, slamming into him harder, faster, making Save’s body tremble with each thrust. The heat between them was unbearable, a fire that consumed them both, and Save could do nothing but surrender, his body shaking uncontrollably beneath Auau’s grip.

“You’re mine,” Auau growled, his voice deep and possessive, his hands grabbing Save’s body as if he were marking him, staking his claim. “Say it. You belong to me, jiww.”

“Y-yeah,” Save gasped, barely able to form the words. “I’m yours. I’m yours, P’au…”

Save’s head spun, every inch of his body alive with heat, but something in him shifted. Auau’s relentless pace, his teasing, it was all too much, too overwhelming. Save’s fingers clenched around the edge of the couch, his chest rising and falling in shallow, desperate breaths.

But then, with a sharp, determined inhale, Save dug his heels into the cushions, pushing his back against Auau’s chest, and without warning, he shifted the dynamics and save was on top, his back arched as he straddled Auau’s waist.

Auau’s eyes widened in surprise for a second, caught off guard by the sudden change in power. But Save didn’t give him a chance to react, immediately sinking down on him with a controlled, deliberate movement. He pressed his palms against Auau’s chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath his fingertips as he began to ride him with slow, calculated force.

Save’s breath came in soft, controlled gasps, his lips slightly parted as he set the pace. His eyes locked with Auau’s, filled with something darker—demanding, yet playful, as he ground down, making sure Auau felt every movement, every inch of him.

Auau’s hands went instinctively to Save’s waist, trying to control the rhythm, but Save slapped them away with a firm, possessive grip on Auau’s chest. He wasn’t about to be handled like that—not now, not after everything.

“Don’t touch,” Save rasped, voice thick with command. “I’m in charge now.”

A low growl escaped Auau’s throat, his body vibrating with frustration and desire, but he didn’t dare argue. He just watched, mesmerized, as Save took the reins, each roll of his hips a declaration of his dominance.

Save moved with precision, his body taut and firm as he slid up and down, the friction of their connection sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. He could feel Auau beneath him, his own body trembling with the effort to hold back, but Save wouldn’t let him.

“I’m gonna make you lose control,” Save whispered, his voice low and taunting as he quickened his pace, drawing every inch of pleasure from Auau’s body. “You’ve made me wait too long.”

Auau’s hands finally found their way back to Save’s body, his fingers digging into his hips as he groaned, overcome with need. “Fuck, Save… you’re unbelievable…”

Save grinned, his movements becoming faster, more desperate, pushing both of them to the brink. He leaned down, just enough to press his lips against Auau’s, but not enough to break his rhythm. The kiss was hungry, passionate—every inch of their chemistry coming to a head.

Auau’s grip on him tightened, but Save didn’t falter. He kept riding, relentless, his body in control of the moment, commanding and powerful.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” Save murmured against his lips, his voice dark and full of satisfaction.

And Auau, with a groan of pure need, finally gave in, his hand gripping the soft flesh of save’s ass as he leaned back letting save continue bouncing on him as as he let himself go, giving everything to Save.

Save was still lying against Auau, his body sore but relaxed, eyes still glazed with the aftermath. His legs were tangled with Auau’s, and even though he was spent, he couldn’t help but nuzzle closer, curling into Auau’s chest like a cat seeking warmth and comfort.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” Save muttered, voice soft and hoarse, his tone sweet but still carrying a faint edge of teasing. His hands were draped lazily over Auau’s body, but his fingertips were still tracing circles on Auau’s skin, as if he couldn’t quite let go.

Auau ran his fingers through Save’s hair, his thumb brushing along his cheek. “You’re so damn cute when you’re all needy,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. “But you’re also a brat.”

Save huffed but didn’t pull away. Instead, he nuzzled into the crook of Auau’s neck, the softest of pouts still on his lips. “Shut up,” he muttered, but the way he clung to Auau betrayed how much he wanted to be held. “I’m not a brat. Just… want more of you.”

A soft laugh escaped Auau’s lips, and he pulled Save even closer, wrapping him up in the warmth of his arms. “You’re a brat,” he repeated, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Save smirked, his eyes half-lidded, a soft but bratty spark in them. “You’re lucky I let you get away with it,” he teased, his hands starting to wander again, but not quite as demanding now—more lazy, playful.

Auau kissed his forehead gently. “I’m lucky you love me, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Save snickered softly, but the words were coated in affection, and he leaned up just enough to press a soft kiss to Auau’s lips. He lingered there for a moment, just enjoying the closeness. Then, with a little teasing grin, he whispered, “Now gimme a kissy, carry me to car, get me my green tea and clean me up”

After auau’s concert-

The hotel room door barely clicked shut behind them before Save was already peeling off his oversized jacket, the hem of his black knit sweater riding high on his thighs. He didn’t say a word. Just walked in slow, deliberate steps toward the bed, where Auau stood frozen, jaw tight, chest rising and falling under the black tank that clung to him like a second skin.

Save didn’t need to do much. He never did.

Just tilted his head slightly, blinked those soft, heavy-lashed eyes up at Auau like he was bored and starving at the same time. “Miss me?” he murmured, voice low, teasing. Dangerous.

Auau swallowed. “You know I did.”

“Mm.” Save’s lips quirked, amused. “You always do.”

He closed the space between them, one finger dragging lightly along Auau’s collarbone, playing with the edge of that thin silver chain he loved to tug on. “You wore it for me,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for his breath to graze Auau’s ear. “You always do that too.”

“Save—” Auau started, breath caught halfway in his throat.

But Save just pulled back slightly, gaze dropping to Auau’s mouth like it was something he owned. And then—slowly, sinfully—he leaned in again, tongue just barely tracing the seam of Auau’s lips, light enough to be a tease, heavy enough to ruin him.

Auau gripped the edge of the dresser behind him like he needed grounding.

Save smirked. “Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he purred, hands running down Auau’s arms before sliding to rest low on his waist. “I’m just saying hi.”

“You’re evil,” Auau breathed, already wrecked.

“And you,” Save said sweetly, dragging his nails lightly down Auau’s back, “love every second of it.”

Then he turned, dropped onto the bed on his stomach with a lazy sigh, kicking his legs up like he didn’t just fry every single one of Auau’s brain cells. “Well? You just gonna stand there or are you gonna show me how much you missed me?”

after save left for a week-

The door creaked open quietly.

Save stepped inside, hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands, dragging his suitcase behind him. Seven days gone. A week-long tour run, barely any rest, barely any time to breathe—but he was finally home.

He expected a loud greeting. Maybe a dramatic hug. A clingy boyfriend with stars in his eyes.

He didn’t expect the silence.

Or the stillness.

Or the tall, broad-shouldered figure sitting on the edge of the bed—head down, forearms braced on his knees like he’d been there for hours.

“…p’au?”

No answer.

The light from the hallway of his bedroom hit his face and—

Oh.

Save’s breath caught.

Because Auau was crying.

Not with loud sobs or messy dramatics. Not the way he whined when he didn’t get attention. This was different. Low. Tight. Face blotchy, eyes red, lips parted like he couldn’t catch his breath. He looked like he was trying to hold himself together with sheer muscle and nothing else. Failing.

He didn’t even lift his head.

Save dropped his bag.

Walked forward slowly.

“…What happened to you?” he whispered.

That broke him.

Auau looked up, and the second his eyes met Save’s, everything shattered. A ragged inhale. His chest shook. And then—

He reached out.

Grabbed Save by the hips, pulled him forward until Save stumbled between his knees. Held onto him like a lifeline. Face buried in Save’s stomach now, breath sharp and uneven, arms wrapped around his waist so tight it was like he was afraid he’d disappear again.

Save stood frozen for a second. Then his hands gently cupped Auau’s face, fingers tracing over his jaw, wiping a tear with the pad of his thumb.

“I was gone for seven days,” he said softly.

Auau’s voice was hoarse. Quiet. “It felt like a month.”

Save blinked. His heart cracked.

Auau leaned into his touch like it hurt to be touched at all, like he didn’t deserve it—but he needed it more than air.

“You didn’t even video call the last two nights,” he murmured, breath hitching. “I waited up. I didn’t sleep. I—fuck, I tried. I just…”

His voice gave out.

Save slowly climbed into his lap. Straddled him, knees on either side of his hips. One hand cupped his jaw, thumb brushing along his cheekbone.

Auau finally looked up again.

So red. So tired. So raw.

Save’s voice came out like a whisper, sharp and soft at once.

“Who let you cry like this, huh?” he said, brushing back his hair. “Who let you fall apart like this for me?”

Auau blinked hard. His hands gripped Save’s waist, holding him steady. Still trembling.

“Don’t go that long again,” he whispered. “Don’t—don’t make me wait like that.”

Save exhaled through his nose. His thumb traced down to Auau’s bottom lip, slow and careful.

“I didn’t think you’d miss me like this.”

“I didn’t think I would either.”

A beat passed.

Save leaned in, forehead against his. Their breaths mingled, shaky and warm.

“You’re lucky I missed you too,” Save whispered. “Or I’d be teasing you for this right now.”

“You still can,” Auau whispered back, the hint of a smile cracking through tears.

Save stroked his jaw, eyes heavy.

“Maybe later.”

Auau was still sniffling—barely. Trying to stop. Still gripping Save like a man starved for touch, like the week had carved a hole in him only Save could fill.

So Save filled it.

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, lips brushing Auau’s jaw. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just enough to make him shiver.

“You still crying?” he whispered, soft like silk, cruel like fire.

“No—” Auau’s voice cracked. “I’m—I’m fine.”

“Mm.” Save pulled back enough to look at him. Tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear, gaze dripping with mock sympathy. “You look fine.”

Then he pushed him.

Not hard. Just enough.

Auau fell back onto the mattress with a small oof, eyes widening. Save followed him down, crawling over him with lazy grace, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, thighs tight around Auau’s waist. He looked down at him like he was nothing but prey.

“Pathetic,” Save murmured, stroking a finger along Auau’s tear-damp cheek. “Seven days and you fall apart like this? You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

“I am strong,” Auau protested—breathless, eyes locked on Save’s mouth.

“Prove it.”

Save leaned down. Bit him. Just under the jaw, sharp and fast—just enough to leave a mark. Auau gasped, hips jerking up, but Save pinned them down with one thigh.

“Oh, no,” he whispered. “You don’t get to be greedy right away. You cry like a kicked puppy and you want what, now? Praise?”

Auau’s breath hitched.

“I missed you,” he said, eyes glassy again.

“Yeah?” Save’s voice dropped, dark and warm. “You miss this?”

He rolled his hips slow, lazy, grinding down in a way that made both of them suck in air. The sound that broke from Auau’s throat was almost a sob.

Save kissed it out of him.

Hot. Deep. Slow. Fingers threading into his hair, tongue sliding against his like punishment.

When he pulled back, Auau chased his mouth.

Save didn’t let him have it.

Instead, he cupped his jaw again—gentle this time, thumb stroking over the mess of his bottom lip, eyes softening just a fraction.

“You gonna behave?” he murmured.

Auau nodded.

“Words.”

“Yes—yes, I’ll behave.”

Save smiled.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now lie back. Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Auau whimpered.

Actually whimpered—broad chest heaving like he couldn’t get air, fingers twitching like they didn’t know whether to cling or beg or worship. Save sat on his lap, light as sin, hoodie slipping lower with every move, eyes dark, lips bitten red, thighs pressing firm around Auau’s hips like he owned him.

Because he did.

He fucking did.

And Auau—tall, strong, famous—was the one falling apart.

“You want me to feel sorry for you?” Save cooed, fingers curled under his jaw, forcing him to look up. “Is that what this is?”

Auau’s throat worked around the thick sound he couldn’t push out. “I—just wanted you. Missed you. Please…”

“Mm,” Save hummed, nails dragging lightly down his throat. “Did you cry like this all week?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, broken, eyes so wet it made Save’s heart ache and clench at once. “I couldn’t sleep. I—just wanted to hold you.”

Save almost felt bad.

But not enough to stop.

Instead, he shifted on Auau’s lap—slow, mean, just enough pressure to make him groan, to make his whole body seize up under the drag of lace between them.

Save smiled.

“You’re lucky I missed you too.”

Auau nodded desperately. “Please…”

“You want me to touch you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to kiss you?”

“God—yes.”

“You want me to forgive you for being so pitiful?”

“…yes,” Auau breathed, ruined.

Save leaned in. Licked the tear off his cheek. Then kissed his jaw, his throat, down the side of his neck, hands never stopping their slow exploration. Caressing muscle like he was graciously touching something expensive.

“You don’t get to touch me yet,” Save murmured. “Hands stay right there. You so much as twitch, and I leave again.”

Auau went still like stone. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

He ground down again. Harsher this time. Auau moaned.

And Save—

Save leaned in close, lips barely grazing his ear.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you tonight,” he whispered. “And not come until I say so. Understood?”

“Yes,” Auau gasped. “Yes, please, I’ll be good.”

Save grinned

“Then shut up,” he whispered.

Auau was still trembling.

Chest rising hard under Save’s palms. Arms flexed around his waist like he didn’t want to let go. Like he couldn’t.

But Save… Save had other plans.

“Move back,” he said softly.

Auau blinked, dazed. “Wha—”

“I said lean back.”

The command wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. Controlled. It cut through Auau’s haze like heat through fog.

He obeyed. Immediately. Back pressing against the head board as Save shifted—slow, steady, and so fucking confident—into his lap, straddling his thighs like he was settling into a throne.

“You’re crying because of me?” Save’s voice was sweet now. Laced with syrup and thorns. His hands slid up Auau’s chest, nails dragging just enough to make the bigger man flinch. “Because you missed me?”

Auau nodded.

“You big idiot,” Save murmured, leaning down, lips brushing his jaw. “Didn’t I say I’d come back?”

“I didn’t believe you,” Auau whispered.

Save smiled—just a little. Cruel and fond all at once.

“Good.”

And then—he rolled his hips. Once. Slow.

Auau’s whole body jerked.

Save caught his face in one hand, tilting his chin up. “You want to feel better, baby?”

Auau’s eyes fluttered. “Y-Yeah.”

“Then keep your hands to yourself.” Save’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m in charge tonight.”

The way Auau moaned—silently, jaw tight—sent a rush of pride through Save’s chest. This wasn’t just a man on the edge. This was a top who’d gone feral without his bottom.

And Save?

Save was going to ruin him slowly.

He rocked again—gentle, torturous—and leaned in to kiss just beneath Auau’s ear.

“Say please.”

“Please,” Auau gasped, fists clenched at his sides.

“Good boy,” Save breathed. “Now sit still while I remind you who you belong to.”

Auau looked wrecked.
Eyes glassy, lashes damp, lips bitten red and trembling.

And Save—straddling his lap like he’d never left—bare thighs warm against his jeans, hoodie slipping off one shoulder—looked unbothered.

No. He looked in control.

Fingers at Auau’s jaw, thumb brushing beneath his eye like he wasn’t holding a man twice his size together by sheer presence alone.

“You missed me this bad?” he murmured. “One week without me and you’re crying like this?”

Auau’s throat worked hard. “I—I couldn’t sleep.”

Save cocked his head, slow and elegant, like a curious cat. “And now?”

“I still… can’t.”

He was breathless.

Save leaned in, nose brushing Auau’s cheek, lips so close they nearly kissed without trying. “Then behave,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Auau whimpered. The sound was small, pitiful. He clung to the couch with both hands, trying not to grab Save again.

“You always act so tough,” Save said softly. “But look at you.”

He rocked forward—just slightly. The motion sent a sharp gasp through Auau’s chest.

“Needy. Desperate. Soft.”

Another slow grind. A drag of fabric against denim, lace against skin. Save kept it steady. Cruel.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispered. “Me in your lap, making it worse?”

“Y-You’re making it unbearable.”

“Oh?” Save smiled, eyes glinting. “Then beg me to stop.”

Auau didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

Because Save moved again—hips circling slow, hands on Auau’s chest, pressing down until the breath was knocked from him. His lips ghosted over Auau’s ear.

“You won’t,” he said, voice like sin. “Because you like it.”

And Auau—face flushed, pupils blown—nodded.

Pathetic.

Beautiful.

Wrecked.

Save dragged it out. His voice dropped to a purr, laced with sugar and venom.

“Keep your hands down. Be good. Let me ride your lap while you sit there and take it.”

Auau whimpered. His knuckles were white where they clutched the cushion.

“You’re mine, baby,” Save whispered, barely audible now. “And I missed ruining you.”

Save brought a hand up to cup his jaw, thumb tracing just under Auau’s eye, catching a tear he didn’t comment on.

“You’re so dramatic,” Save murmured, lips brushing against his temple.

“I know,” Auau choked. “I don’t care.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Save muttered, and he meant it like a tease, but the way Auau shivered under him made it feel like a vow.

His fingers stayed gentle, stroking the sharp line of Auau’s jaw like he was fragile. His thumb brushed the corner of his lip next, slow and almost dangerous.

And then Save leaned in, close, eyes lidded, voice like silk laced with thorns.

“Did you cry every day?”

Auau nodded, humiliated and honest.

Save smiled, so cruelly fond. “Good.”

Because Save may have been the smaller one, the prettier one, the one who wore oversized sweaters and lace-trimmed shorts—but when he had Auau like this, trembling, overwhelmed, hands desperate and lips parted? There was no mistaking who had the power.

Save’s fingers trailed down, featherlight, over Auau’s neck, grazing the silver chain that had gone warm from his skin. Auau was still clinging to him, arms wrapped around Save’s waist like he was anchoring himself to earth, but there was a different kind of tremble now. Less heartbreak. More want.

“Missed me this much?” Save asked, his voice a purr against Auau’s ear, every syllable dipped in syrup and threat.

“You know I did,” Auau whispered back, helpless. “You know I—”
His voice broke when Save rolled his hips down, just once. Just enough.

“You’re mean,” Auau breathed, forehead pressing to Save’s shoulder like it was the only way to survive.

“Mmhm,” Save hummed, lips at his jaw. “And you like it.”

He did. God, he did. The tears hadn’t even dried on his cheeks and yet he was melting, ruined, needy. Save cupped his face again and kissed him—not deep, not yet. Just barely enough to taste the salt.

“Still crying?” Save whispered.

Auau nodded, dumbly.

“Good,” Save said again, and this time, he kissed him like he owned him.

It starts slow.

Save leans in, lashes low, and presses their mouths together—not like he missed him, not like Auau’s been falling apart in his absence, but like this was his reward. Like Auau should be grateful.

And Auau is. He’s so still, so reverent under Save’s hands, jaw slack, mouth open just slightly as if in prayer.

Save smiles into it. Soft. Wicked.

Then his tongue slides out, wet and warm, tracing the curve of Auau’s bottom lip—first one side, then the other, like he’s memorizing the shape. Teasing. Worshipping. Ruining. And when Auau shudders, breath catching—

Save deepens the kiss. Tongue slipping past his lips, slow and indulgent, coaxing him open, tasting him like he’s the only thing he’s craved all week.

At the same time, his hand slides up the back of Auau’s neck, fingers threading through his hair, thumb rubbing lazy circles just under the curve of his jaw. The gentlest claim.

Auau moans.

He tries to chase it, to kiss back harder, but Save doesn’t let him. Keeps it soft, slow. In control. Like he was the one that got left behind.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are shiny, cheeks pink, fingers still tangled in Auau’s hair.

“Miss me now?” he whispers.

Auau can’t answer.

His whole body is begging.

Save doesn’t pull back far.

His lips hover just barely over Auau’s, breaths mingling, his fingers still curled at the back of Auau’s neck like he’s holding him there—gently, lovingly, like he might pet him or devour him.

“You missed me this much?” Save murmurs, voice a purr, eyes so soft it almost disguises the edge in them. “Or did you just forget how to function without me?”

Auau tries to speak, but it comes out as a noise instead. A helpless, wrecked sound. His hands twitch where they rest on Save’s thighs.

Save smiles. Mean. Sweet.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, tracing his thumb just under Auau’s jaw, dragging it to the corner of his mouth, watching how his lips part instinctively like he’s waiting to be kissed again.

And Save doesn’t kiss him.

He leans in like he will, lets his lips graze Auau’s, noses brushing. Lets his breath ghost over Auau’s mouth. Then he moves to his jaw. Then behind his ear. Never giving him what he wants—just the echo of it.

“You look like you might cry again,” he says lightly, and presses a single kiss to Auau’s throat, right where his pulse jumps.

Auau whimpers.

Save laughs under his breath, biting back the grin blooming across his face. “God, you’re pathetic,” he whispers. “I leave for one week and you forget how to breathe.”

He rolls his hips forward just enough to feel Auau’s breath stutter. Then stops.

Completely still.

“Now say please,” Save whispers. “Maybe I’ll be nice. Maybe.”

Auau’s hands twitch again where they’ve been gripping Save’s thighs, large and warm, like he’s holding onto restraint by the threads.

Save is still. Still in his lap. Still watching him with half-lidded, wicked eyes and a mouth that just won’t stop being too soft and too sharp at the same time.

Auau licks his lips. Swallows hard. “Please.”

It comes out rough. Embarrassingly so.

Save’s brows lift. “That’s all?”

Auau’s jaw clenches. His hands grip tighter, thumbs rubbing circles into Save’s skin like he’s grounding himself.

“Please, Save,” he says again, lower, voice catching at the end. “Please kiss me.”

Save leans in. Their noses touch again. His fingers play at the edge of Auau’s chain, just below his collarbone.

“Oh, you’re really suffering, huh,” Save whispers, tilting his head to the side. “Just for a little kiss?”

Auau nods once, like it physically hurts. “I missed you. I need it—I need you.”

And Save shudders. Just slightly. Just once. Because that tone—deep, needy, real—cracks something down his spine.

So he leans in. Finally. And presses their mouths together like a reward, lips slow, plush, controlled.

But it’s not sweet.

Because he slips his tongue into Auau’s mouth immediately—lazy, sinful, like he owns the air he’s stealing. And his hand curls in Auau’s hair, tugging just enough to tip his head back. The other hand trails down his chest, over that thin tank, his fingers barely brushing the chain.

Auau moans. Quiet. Desperate.

And Save? Smiles against his mouth. “Pathetic,” he whispers again. But he keeps kissing him. Because he missed him, too. Just—he won’t admit it out loud.

Unless. You make him.

Save pulls back from the kiss just a breath, his lips glistening and curved, his palm still resting against Auau’s throat—right at the place he can feel the rapid pulse hammering.

“You’re shaking,” Save murmurs, like it’s amusing. But his voice is softer now. Low and breathy.

“I told you,” Auau says, breathless, pupils blown wide. “I missed you.”

He leans forward, pressing his face into the curve of Save’s neck, inhaling deep, like that’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

And Save’s hand falters.

Because he feels it—that. That trembling. That desperation curling under Auau’s skin like wildfire. The way his hands grip Save’s hips like he’s afraid he’ll vanish again.

Save swallows.

Then he shifts—just slightly—grinding down once in his lap. Just once. Just to feel Auau gasp against his neck.

“You’re so warm,” Save murmurs, fingers threading through Auau’s hair now, slower. Gentler. “I forgot how warm you are…”

And Auau whimpers.

That breaks him.

Save cups his face, tilts his jaw up, and kisses him again—harder, open-mouthed, with a need he can’t fake. His tongue flicks again across Auau’s lips, but now he’s the one trembling. Just a little. His knees pull tighter on either side of Auau’s hips. His voice cracks:

“Don’t cry like that again. Next time I’m gone.”

“Then don’t go,” Auau breathes. “Stay. Stay with me.”

And Save doesn’t answer right away. Just presses his forehead to Auau’s and exhales.

Because this boy? This stupid, crying, ruined boy?

He’s his.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s what’s ruining Save, too.

The kiss broke with a wet sound, and Save—still straddled across Auau’s lap, sweater slipping off one shoulder, his fingers in Auau’s hair—made a sound so soft it wasn’t even a word.

Just—

“Mmnh…”

And then, a beat later, a tiny whine caught in his throat. Frustrated. Needful. Barely restrained.

His forehead pressed to Auau’s. “You’re so slow,” he mumbled, voice petulant, lips pink and swollen. “You cry and then you touch me like I’ll break. Do you know how long I’ve missed you?”

Auau’s hands gripped his waist tighter. “You didn’t even text me back.”

“Because I wanted to see you,” Save hissed, and rocked forward in his lap again, whimpering—just a little. Not faked this time. “Wanted you to miss me.”

Auau groaned, helpless. “I did. I missed you so bad, baby.”

Save shivered at the word.

He looked down at him—messy, big-eyed Auau, still trying to be careful—and whispered, voice raw now:

“Then stop being gentle and touch me like you mean it.”

Save didn’t move much—not really. Just shifted once in Auau’s lap, his sweater falling further off his shoulder, those soft lace-edged shorts riding high on his thighs, and then tilted his head so their lips met again.

But this time, he didn’t stop at a kiss.

He tasted him.

Tongue sliding slow and hot into Auau’s mouth, curling against his, teasing, claiming—Save kissed like he was angry, like he’d waited too long and wanted to ruin them both for it. He sucked on Auau’s bottom lip when he pulled back just an inch, lips brushing lips, and whispered something breathless that sounded like, “You missed this too much, baby.”

Auau was gripping his hips now, knuckles white, trying not to break apart.

Save leaned in again, this time bypassing his mouth. He licked over Auau’s jaw. Then lower. Sucked at the edge of his neck where his pulse throbbed dangerously fast, teeth grazing skin, mouthing soft little bites that made Auau groan into his hair.

“You said you’d be good,” Auau choked, breath shaky.

“I lied.” Save’s voice was velvet. Wicked.

His lips trailed to Auau’s ear, catching the lobe between his teeth before whispering something obscene that made Auau’s hands tremble. Then he kissed down to his shoulder—bare under the tank—biting just hard enough to leave a mark, then soothing it with his tongue.

Every kiss left Auau wrecked. Every whimper from Save’s lips was a weapon.

And the worst part?

He was still perched in his lap, like a spoiled little vixen who knew exactly what he was doing—grinding down every now and then just to watch Auau shake.

Auau’s back hit the headboard how did they even move here; with a quiet thud, breath already hitching by the time Save straddled him without a word. No warning—just a soft sweater slipping up his thighs, lace brushing Auau’s jeans, and then Save was in his lap like he’d never been away.

And then that mouth—that mouth—pressed to his, slow and deliberate.

Save kissed him. Not gentle. Not soft. Like he was taking something—tongue slipping into his mouth and dragging a whimper right from Auau’s throat. One hand curled around Auau’s jaw, the other in his hair, tugging slightly, guiding his head back so Save could deepen it, licking into him slow, teasing, ruinous.

Auau’s hands clenched at Save’s hips. Needy. Starving. But Save only pulled back, barely, letting his tongue run along Auau’s bottom lip like he was tasting sugar off it. His eyes heavy-lidded, smug. Dangerous.

“You missed this mouth?” he whispered, low and dark, before leaning in again—this time not for lips.

His mouth moved lower, dragging down Auau’s jaw, kissing wet at the corner before biting softly beneath his ear, tugging his earring with his teeth. Auau gasped—choked—as Save sucked slow at the skin behind his ear, then down the line of his neck, deliberate, leaving fire in his wake.

“Missed you so much, baby,” Save murmured again between kisses, whining in his ear now—high and soft and devastatingly fake-sweet, every breathy sound meant to torture. “Thought about your mouth every night. Touched myself thinking about your hands on my hips. Poor baby… were you lonely without me?”

He whimpered again, on purpose this time—just the sound of it made Auau groan out loud, fists clenching like he was seconds from snapping.

And Save knew. Smiling, smug and cruel, he pressed one last biting kiss right beneath Auau’s jaw before pulling back just enough to look down at him.

“Not gonna lose control, are you?” Save asked sweetly. “Not yet. Be good.”

Save’s fingers slid around Auau’s wrists, slow, deliberate, guiding them down to his ass, pressing them there with soft insistence—silent command dressed up in a sigh. And Auau obeyed, like he always did. Big hands squeezing over the curve of Save’s thighs, his fingers curling under the hem of those lace-trimmed shorts, digging in just a little.

Save smiled against Auau’s throat.

“That’s better,” he murmured, voice syrupy and low.

And then he leaned in—bit down—on the side of Auau’s neck, teeth sinking into sensitive skin like he wanted it to bruise. Like he wanted everyone to see. He kissed the mark right after, tongue lapping slow as he moved up to the silver chain glinting against Auau’s collarbones.

“You look too hot in this” Save muttered, tugging at the delicate thing with his teeth, letting it snap softly against Auau’s throat.

Auau could only groan, head tipping back to give Save more access—his chest rising hard under the black tank, abs tightening as Save mouthed his way up the column of his throat, biting again, sucking harder.

“Want it marked up,” Save whispered against skin, licking over one of the red spots blooming under his mouth. “Want them to know you’re mine.”

And then he was back at the chain—kissing along it, pulling it into his mouth to suck at the adam’s apple kissing it and biting it as auau’s hands tightened on his curves after every lick he said“Mine.”

Every drag of his lips, every whisper, was torture—sweet, breathless, slow torture—and Auau was gripping his ass so tight it was like holding on was the only thing keeping him alive.

Save just smiled, sweet and cruel.

Like always.

Save kissed him like a thief. Not gentle. Not soft. Like he was taking something—tongue slipping into his mouth and dragging a whimper right from Auau’s throat. One hand curled around Auau’s jaw, the other in his hair, tugging slightly, guiding his head back so Save could deepen it, licking into him slow, teasing, ruinous.

Auau’s hands clenched at Save’s hips. Needy. Starving. But Save only pulled back, barely, letting his tongue run along Auau’s bottom lip like he was tasting sugar off it. His eyes heavy-lidded, smug. Dangerous.

“You missed this mouth?” he whispered, low and dark, before leaning in again—this time not for lips.

His mouth moved lower, dragging down Auau’s jaw, kissing wet at the corner before biting softly beneath his ear, tugging his earring with his teeth. Auau gasped—choked—as Save sucked slow at the skin behind his ear, then down the line of his neck, deliberate, leaving fire in his wake.

“Tell me,” Save murmured, lips brushing over the bruise blooming just beneath his jaw. “Did you cry for me?”

Auau couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Especially not when Save bit—not hard, but enough to make him twitch—right into his shoulder and soothed it with his tongue immediately after. All while those lace-trimmed thighs clenched tighter around his waist.

Still in his lap. Still in control. Still not letting him move.

Save pulled back only to look down at him, lips red, breath sweet, a mark already forming on Auau’s neck like a signature.

“You’re lucky I’m letting you breathe,” Save whispered, smiling so sweet it was cruel.

And Auau?

Ruined. Just ruined.
And they hadn’t even started.

Auau’s fingers were digging into the soft curve of Save’s thighs like he was holding onto the last thread of sanity. And Save? Save was still in his lap, still teasing, still ruining him without mercy—his oversized sweater slipping further off one shoulder, the lace of his shorts brushing Auau’s hips with every subtle shift.

Save leaned in again, mouth brushing the shell of Auau’s ear, hot breath fanning over flushed skin. He didn’t even have to do anything, not really—but he did anyway, because he was wicked.

And then—then—he bit. Right at the soft edge of Auau’s ear, sharp enough to make Auau jolt under him, back arching, hips twitching.

“I missed you,” Save whispered, lips brushing so close, voice a low purr of sin. “Missed this neck. These hands. The way you beg without a single word.”

Auau whimpered, actual whimpered, eyes rolling back because Save’s tongue licked behind his ear next, dragging slow, followed by another bite, deeper this time.

“Missed you so much, baby,” Save murmured again between kisses, whining in his ear now—high and soft and devastatingly fake-sweet, every breathy sound meant to torture. “Thought about your mouth every night. Touched myself thinking about your hands on my hips. Poor baby… were you lonely without me?”

He whimpered again, on purpose this time—just the sound of it made Auau groan out loud, fists clenching like he was seconds from snapping.

And Save knew. Smiling, smug and cruel, he pressed one last biting kiss right beneath Auau’s jaw before pulling back just enough to look down at him.

“Not gonna lose control, are you?” Save asked sweetly. “Not yet. Be good.”

Auau couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.

He was hanging on by a thread.

Save’s fingers slid around Auau’s wrists, slow, deliberate, guiding them down to his ass, pressing them there with soft insistence—silent command dressed up in a sigh. And Auau obeyed, like he always did. Big hands squeezing over the curve of Save’s thighs, his fingers curling under the hem of those lace-trimmed shorts, digging in just a little.

Save smiled against Auau’s throat.

“That’s better,” he murmured, voice syrupy and low.

And then he leaned in—bit down—on the side of Auau’s neck, teeth sinking into sensitive skin like he wanted it to bruise. Like he wanted everyone to see. He kissed the mark right after, tongue lapping slow as he moved up to the silver chain glinting against Auau’s collarbones.

“Too tempting,” Save muttered, tugging at the delicate thing with his teeth, letting it snap softly against Auau’s throat. “You wore this just for me?”

Auau could only groan, head tipping back to give Save more access—his chest rising hard under the black tank, abs tightening as Save mouthed his way up the column of his throat, biting again, sucking harder.

Every drag of his lips, every whisper, every possessive tug of that chain was torture—sweet, breathless, slow torture—and Auau was gripping his ass so tight it was like holding on was the only thing keeping him alive.

Save just smiled, sweet and cruel.

Like always.

Save’s lips never left Auau’s neck, soft and wet, dragging slow patterns along the skin. His tongue flicked teasingly beneath the thin silver chain, pulling it just enough to catch the light before biting down gently on the sensitive skin underneath. His hands slid to Auau’s hips, fingers curling possessively, urging him closer.

Between kisses, Save’s breath hitched as he whispered against Auau’s ear, voice low and dripping with wicked promise. “You don’t have to ask… I’m already yours to take.”

Auau’s eyes darkened, muscles tensing beneath Save’s touch, his fingers tightening as he pressed his body flush against Save’s. Save’s hands moved lower, guiding Auau’s hands to grip his hips firmly, silently begging without needing words.

Auau’s lips curled into a rough smile against Save’s skin as he growled, “You’re mine tonight. You won’t be getting away.”

Save gave a slow, sultry laugh, tongue tracing along Auau’s jawline. “I don’t want to get away… I want you to take me. All of me.”

Auau’s grip tightened, breath hot and ragged as he murmured, “Good. Because I’m not stopping until you’re mine. Every part.”

Save’s soft whimpers against Auau’s throat were like fire, and Auau was already lost, ready to claim every inch of him.

Than save rolled off him, onto the bed and auau stood up confused.

“Cat got your tongue?” Save asked sweetly, propping his chin on his hand. “What happened to all that barking you do on stage, hm?”

Auau blinked like he’d been struck, throat working around nothing.

Save tilted his head, smile slow and dangerous. “C’mon, pup.”

That did it.

The nickname rolled off Save’s tongue like honey and poison at once. Playful, mocking. Fond. And Auau’s whole chest expanded like he couldn’t take in enough air.

Save’s eyes flicked down deliberately to Auau’s tense arms and the flex of his jaw. “Look at you. All puffed up.” He pouted. “You gonna growl at me, puppy? Or just stay there and whimper?”

“Save…” Auau’s voice was low, warning.

“God, I missed teasing you,” Save purred, stretching like a cat, long and lazy. “Missed how red you get. How your ears go all hot. How you stare at me like you don’t know if you wanna kiss me or put me through the wall.”

Auau’s fists clenched, chest heaving now. He looked completely, utterly undone. One fraying thread away from snapping.

And Save?

He just reached out a hand—lightly tugging at the chain around Auau’s neck—and said, “Be a good pup and come closer, baby. Or do I have to whistle for you?”

And Save tilts his head sweetly, brushes Auau’s hair back with his fingers, then tugs his silver chain until their mouths are inches apart and whispers:

“Good boy… my pathetic pup.”

Auau whimpers. Physically shudders. Because being called “baby” was bad enough, but “pup”?

Ruined. Absolutely done for.

And Save? He just leans down a little more, smirking, lips barely brushing his ear now as he adds:

“You’re so obedient when you’re on your knees like this. You like being my pup, don’t you?”

And Auau—completely feral, holding onto Save’s thighs like he’s clinging for life—nods, gasps, “Yes, yes, I do, I’m yours.”

Save pets his hair once. Twice. Then sighs dramatically and says, “Good. Now sit. Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

his hand dangled a thin, sleek leather leash—brand new. Dark. Glossy. The clasp winked in the light, and his thumb lazily brushed over it like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t watching Auau like a predator with a prize.

“Come here,” Save murmured, voice syrup-slow, almost lazy. “On your knees.”

Auau didn’t even hesitate.

His tall frame dropped, dark eyes wide and blown as he knelt between Save’s legs like it was instinct. His chest rose and fell, muscles taut under the simple black tank he wore, silver chain glinting around his throat.

Save tilted his head.

“Good boy,” he purred, circling him once, bare feet soundless on the floor. “Now lean down.”

Auau obeyed, heart pounding, heat burning under his skin. He dropped his head slightly, breath catching when Save brushed the chain of the leash along the back of his neck—slow, taunting—before finally, finally, snapping it closed.

Click.

And Save… Save sighed. Deeply. Like satisfaction. Like possession. His hand lingered on the clasp as he stared down at his boyfriend, kneeling and breathless at his feet.

“Look at you,” Save whispered, almost to himself. “So ready to be mine.

fingers curling around the leather strap and giving it the tiniest, most delicate tug—just enough to make Auau look up at him.

“I should take a picture,” Save said, smirking now, licking over his bottom lip. “You—on your knees, in a leash—like a good pup.”

Auau breathed out like he was in pain.

And Save?

Save’s cheeks were flushed, legs a little weaker than he’d like to admit, because God, watching his puppy boyfriend who he is stupidly in love with being so needy? That was dangerous. He was wet he wanted to be filled and fucked till he loses his own voice and can’t walk till auau has to carry him everywhere

“I haven’t even touched myself yet,” Save whispered. “And you’re already falling apart.”

Then he kissed him—slow, deep, that melted Auau into the sheets instantly. Auau moaned into his mouth, hands flying to grab at his waist, his back, his thighs. All the hunger he’d been holding back poured out like he’d been starved for weeks.

Chapter Text

Auau had done the concert.

He’d sung the encore.

He’d screamed “THIS ONE’S FOR MY BOYFRIEND—WHO WON’T TEXT ME BACK” in front of 25,000 screaming fans.

And Save?

Didn’t even flinch.

Still at home. Still lounging on the bed in nothing but one of Auau’s shirts and a glare like he was being bothered by existence.

Auau kicked the door open dramatically, voice echoing through the condo.

“I FAKED A STAGE FALL SO YOU’D CALL ME.”

Save didn’t look up from his laptop. “Did you break your brain on the way down?”

“I moaned your name on live TV, Save!”

“You moan it all the time. What’s new.”

“I added a whimper this time.”

“…Didn’t hear it.”

That was it.

Auau stomped to the bed, climbed onto Save’s legs and plopped down , arms crossed. He pouted, looking like a drenched puppy about to throw a tantrum.

“I got a new tattoo.”

Pause.

Save blinked once, finally looking up. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“…Where.”

Auau smirked.

Save’s eyes narrowed. “Where.”

Auau leaned in, voice a sinful whisper, “Right above my hip. Wanna see?”

Save clicked his tongue, eyes darting everywhere but the exposed skin Auau was now casually pulling his shirt up to reveal. “You’re so desperate.”

“I am. For you. I’m dying. I haven’t kissed you in five days, Save. I haven’t heard you whine my name in a week. I tried to hump my mic stand last night.”

“That explains the trending hashtag.”

Auau leaned in closer, pressing Save flat into the pillows. “Just say you missed me.”

“No.”

“I’ll bite.”

“You always do.”

“I’ll cry.”

“Then cry.”

“You like it when I cry.”

Save finally looked him in the eye. And his face was red . “You’re so— why do i love you remind me again?”

Auau’s grin widened, teeth sharp. “Say you missed me and I’ll stop.”

“…Fine,” Save muttered. “I didn’t miss you. I ached for you.”

And just like that, Auau went feral.

The shirt was gone in one swoop, Save was pinned and swearing under his breath, clawing at his shoulders while still pretending not to care.

But his legs were wrapped tight around Auau’s waist. His breath hitched every time Auau bit down on his neck. And when Auau finally moaned, “Mine,” Save whispered, “Act like it.”

Than he pushed off went back to his side of bed and

Auau didn’t mean to lose it.

He really didn’t.

But how was he supposed to survive this?

Save was stretched out on the bed like temptation itself, acting bored out of his mind—wearing nothing but Auau’s oversized tour shirt and the prettiest black lace panties Auau had ever seen. Tiny satin bows on the straps. Lace stretched sweet over his thighs. And he was chewing gum. Chewing gum while kissing him, slow and lazy like he wasn’t doing a damn thing wrong.

And when Auau leaned in, desperate for more, Save pulled away .

Licked his lips and said, “Why are you so clingy, huh?”

Auau’s hands fisted the sheets .

“You’ve been whining since you got home.”

“Because I haven’t had you in weeks,” Auau growled, voice low and tight.

Save shrugged, tilting his head, pretending to be thoughtful. “And whose fault is that?”

“Don’t.”

Save smiled— smirked —and cupped Auau’s jaw. “You’re cute when you beg.”

And that was it. That was the match to gasoline .

Auau shoved Save flat on the bed, climbed on top, and pinned both his wrists down in one rough move.

Save gasped. Just barely. But he didn’t stop smirking.

“You think this is funny?” Auau hissed, eyes blown wide, jaw clenched. “You’ve been teasing me all night in those little panties—strutting around like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I do know what I’m doing.”

Auau growled .

He yanked the shirt up, baring the lace completely, fingers curling tight around the delicate straps at Save’s hips. “You wore this for me?”

“No,” Save lied immediately.

Auau’s grip tightened. “You sure?”

“…Maybe.”

“You want me to lose control that bad, baby?”

“I want you to shut up and— ah— !”

Auau bit his thigh. Hard. Right where the lace met skin. And then kissed over it like he didn’t just leave a mark.

“Who’s teasing now, hm?” he murmured against Save’s hip.

Save was writhing, breath coming fast, red creeping up his neck—but he still wouldn’t beg.

So Auau pushed his legs apart with a growl, dragging his mouth up slowly, tasting every inch of skin like it’d been stolen from him.

“You gonna be good now?” Auau whispered, hovering right over Save’s lips. “Or do I need to ruin these pretty panties before you behave?”

Save met his eyes, cocky and trembling.

“…Make me.”

And Auau did.

Auau wasn’t breathing.

Save was on his lap— on his lap —wearing black lace and Auau’s own shirt, thighs spread wide across him like he wasn’t the actual devil incarnate.

And worst of all?

He was smirking.

Save leaned back just enough to grind down slowly, and Auau nearly choked . His hands shot out to grab Save’s waist, but Save tsked and slapped them away, lips curling up like a satisfied cat.

“You don’t get to touch,” he said sweetly.

“Baby, please—”

“I said,” Save leaned down, brushing his nose against Auau’s, “you don’t get to touch until you beg.”

Auau whimpered . Actually whimpered.

“But I missed you,” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. “I’ve been on tour, I haven’t touched you in weeks —”

“And whose fault is that?” Save purred, lips ghosting over Auau’s jaw, his neck, but never settling. “You left me all alone. You should suffer a little.”

“I am suffering,” Auau moaned. “You’re on top of me in panties, Save. I’m dying.”

“Good.”

Auau’s hands twitched like they might move again, but Save just shifted his hips down hard—and Auau gasped, shuddered , head snapping up.

“I’ll scream,” he whispered.

“Do it.”

“Let me touch you.”

“No.”

“Please.”

Save tilted his head, lazy and smug. “How bad do you want me?”

“I want you so bad it hurts. ”

Save rolled his hips again, so slow , dragging that lace against him, lips brushing Auau’s ear.

“Then beg for me”

And Auau did.

He begged like a man possessed, voice low and wrecked, hands gripping the couch like it was the only thing grounding him while Save just watched him fall apart .

And when Save finally let him touch—finally whispered, “Okay, puppy. You’ve earned it”—

Auau swore he saw God.

It was too much.

Save had been riding his lap in those sinfully tight lace panties, dragging it out— smiling through every one of Auau’s choked moans, mocking him with every slow grind.

“Look at you,” Save had whispered, lips brushing his ear. “Hard just from this? You gonna cry again, baby?”

Auau lost it.

In a flash, he grabbed Save by the waist, flipped them both, and pinned him down into the mattress, breathing ragged and wild-eyed, like he was starving .

Save gasped as his back hit the sheets—then grinned. All teeth and heat and no fear .

“Oh? Someone finally got brave.”

Auau was already mouthing at his neck, his collarbone, yanking the shirt up roughly, bunching it around Save’s ribs. His hands were shaking as they grabbed at those hips, lace barely clinging to them now, soaked and see-through and obscene.

“Can’t take it anymore?” Save teased, even as his thighs trembled under Auau’s grip. “You gonna act like a dom now, puppy?”

“I’m gonna shut you up,” Auau snapped, voice low and breaking.

“ Try. ”

Auau surged forward, lips crashing into Save’s, swallowing the smug little smirk with a moan—and still , Save kept talking, even as he gasped against his mouth, even as Auau rolled his hips hard and fast, grinding him into the mattress.

“Getting rough now, huh?” Save panted, head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut but still defiant. “You’re so cute when you think you’re in charge.”

“Say that again,” Auau rasped, teeth scraping along his throat.

“Cute,” Save whispered. “So fucking whipped. You’d let me ruin you if I asked.”

Auau groaned— wrecked —and thrust down hard , dragging a high, pretty moan out of Save’s throat.

But Save still smirked.

Still whispered, breath shaking, “That all you got, rockstar?”

Auau’s hands gripped the lace and yanked, tearing the panties halfway down Save’s thighs.

“ You’ll see. ”

The lace was barely hanging on.

Save’s thighs were spread wide, his back arched, lips kiss-swollen and gasping for air. His shirt had been pushed up to his chest, and the delicate black panties were ruined —tugged down, stretched and wrinkled around his hips, wet with need.

Auau was above him, panting , hands trembling from trying to hold back, to be gentle—but Save kept pushing him. Over and over. Even now, flushed and clinging to the sheets, he had the audacity to smirk.

“I thought you said you were gonna shut me up,” he teased, voice shaking. “You’re still letting me talk.”

“Save,” Auau growled, nearly feral, slamming his hips down again—and Save moaned , head snapping back, throat exposed.

But then—he giggled.

Giggled.

“God, you’re so whipped.”

“Shut up,” Auau hissed, hips jerking harder. “You’re the one moaning.”

“You’re the one begging me not to leave you hard.”

“ You’re trembling. ”

“So are you.”

And it was true. Auau’s arms were shaking. His whole body was tense—fighting to hold back, to worship the boy under him instead of wrecking him the way he deserved.

But Save was still in control. Even with his thighs spread and his eyes wet, even when he whimpered on the next thrust—he reached up, tangled his fingers in Auau’s hair, and whispered against his lips,

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Auau snapped.

He caught Save’s wrists, pinned them down, and slammed into him with a choked, desperate groan—dragging the loudest moan yet from Save’s lips.

“Say that again,” Auau growled, voice breaking.

“Say what?” Save gasped, eyes fluttering. “That I love you?”

He arched his back, dragged his leg up around Auau’s waist, pulling him deeper—

“Or that you’re lucky?”

Auau crushed their mouths together, nearly sobbing into the kiss. Save kissed him back hard, messy, hungry—but still cocky, still smug even as he whined into his mouth.

Even as he broke apart, shaking under him, breath hitching in that sweet, desperate way—he still whispered,

“Not bad, pup…”

“…You almost made me beg.”

Save gasped when Auau flipped him over, but he didn’t protest.

He looked smug , lips parted, thighs still spread in pretty lace, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Gonna take what you want now, puppy?” he panted, letting his head fall back on the sheets, one leg dragging slowly up Auau’s side. “Tired of playing nice?”

“Completely fucking tired,” Auau growled, mouth crashing against Save’s throat as his hands tore at the lace. “You’ve been driving me insane—”

“I know. ” Save gasped, arching up when the fabric stretched off his hips with a soft snap, cool air hitting hot skin. “You looked so cute begging.”

Auau didn’t answer. He was already shifting between Save’s thighs, hands spreading him open, moaning at the sight. Save was flushed pink, already leaking, and the second Auau’s fingers brushed over him, he jerked —a loud sound tumbling out of his mouth.

Still, that smirk didn’t fade.

“Aw,” he breathed, taunting, even as he gasped again. “Shaking already?”

Auau spit into his hand and lined up, nearly delirious.

“Keep talking,” he warned, voice breaking. “I’ll make you eat your words.”

Save blinked slowly. “Then do it.”

And Auau slammed into him.

Save cried out , full and high-pitched, body jolting against the bed, knuckles going white in the sheets—but his face? Still smug. Still daring.

“F-Fuck—” Auau hissed, rocking into him, hips frantic, barely holding back. “You feel so—so good—”

“Of course I do,” Save moaned. “I’m perfect.”

He wrapped both arms around Auau’s shoulders, digging in his nails. His legs locked around Auau’s waist, dragging him in deeper with each thrust—and still, through broken gasps and breathless moans, he kept whispering filth in his ear:

“Can’t even last a minute, can you?”

“You waited so long just to fuck me like a dog? ”

“You’re lucky I’m letting you come inside—”

“Save— please— ” Auau groaned, eyes screwed shut, body trembling.

“Go on,” Save panted. “Come for me, puppy.”

And that —that bratty command —was what broke him.

Auau came with a shout , hips stuttering, voice cracked and desperate—and Save just moaned through it, eyes rolling back slightly, still holding tight, still teasing.

“See?” he panted, nuzzling into Auau’s neck, breath hot and smug. “You beg. I give. That’s how it works.”

Auau hadn’t even caught his breath.

He was still lying there, sweaty and stunned, chest heaving and hands twitching on the sheets like his soul hadn’t made it back into his body yet.

And Save?

Save was already straddling him again.

He licked his lips, eyes glittering down at the mess he’d made of his boyfriend. His thighs trembled as he slowly sank back down—taking Auau deep , slow, all the way until his ass pressed flush against Auau’s lap.

Auau whined .

“W-Wait—baby—”

“Shhh,” Save purred, leaning down to bite his lip. “Be a good boy and stay still.”

Then he started to move.

And it was filthy.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Save bounced in his lap like he was made to do it—palms braced on Auau’s chest, hair messy, shirt sticking to his back, lace straps still looped loosely around his thighs. His moans spilled out, high and desperate, but he never gave up control .

He was riding Auau —but he was the one in charge.

“You’re so deep,” Save gasped, tossing his head back, hips slamming down. “F-Fuck, I feel you everywhere—”

Auau could only grip his thighs, eyes rolling back, whimpering . He couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe .

“Look at you,” Save moaned, dragging his nails down Auau’s chest. “All fucked out and I’m the one doing the work.”

THUD.

“Thought you were the rockstar.”

THUD.

“Why aren’t you moving?”

THUD.

“You gonna cry again?”

“ Save— ” Auau finally choked, voice wrecked , head tossing side to side. “I’m gonna—I can’t—”

“Do it,” Save whispered, leaning down, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Come for me again, baby. Fill me up.”

And when Auau did—when his whole body locked up and he moaned Save’s name like a prayer, when he shook under him—Save rolled his hips through it with a breathless whimper of his own, finally tipping over the edge, lace riding up, eyes glossy and mouth open.

He collapsed forward, catching his breath in Auau’s neck.

And whispered, hot against his skin:

“You didn’t think it was over right?.”

Save was still panting, his pretty face flushed, lips kiss-bitten, lace panties askew on one thigh. His body was slick and trembling, draped across Auau’s chest like a smug, exhausted little cat.

“You’re so easy,” he whispered against Auau’s jaw. “I bet I could make you cry again in under a minute.”

Auau’s hand slid into his hair.

And pulled.

Save gasped —head tilting back, a flash of surprise finally breaking through that smug, bratty confidence.

“Oh?” Save managed to pant, breath catching. “You mad?”

“No,” Auau growled, rolling them both over, voice dark and low. “I’m done playing.”

He shoved Save onto his stomach, strong hands pushing down between his shoulder blades until Save was arched perfectly—panties tugged all the way off, legs spread, ass up.

Save looked back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. “So you’re finally gonna act like a top, huh?”

Auau didn’t answer.

He spat in his hand, lined up again, and slammed in deep —in one stroke.

Save screamed.

Back arched, nails raking the sheets, breath stolen out of his lungs. He jerked, eyes wide, already trembling, moaning loud and high-pitched.

“F-Fuck, Auau— fuck— ”

“Yeah?” Auau grunted, hips snapping hard. “Where’s all that bratty talk now?”

Save bit his fist. Still trying to stay in control. Still refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But Auau wasn’t giving him the chance.

He gripped Save by the waist and fucked him dumb.

Ruthless. Relentless. Each thrust harder than the last. The sound of skin on skin, Save’s broken moans, the mattress creaking beneath them—

THWAP. THWAP. THWAP.

Save whimpered , voice breaking into soft, slurred nonsense.

“C-Can’t—fuck—too deep—slow down—”

“You gonna be good now?” Auau growled, breath hot on Save’s neck. “Gonna stop acting like a little brat?”

“N-No—” Save gasped.

“Wrong answer.”

Auau slammed into him.

Save sobbed. Actually sobbed , cheek pressed to the pillow, back arched, mouth open and drooling.

He was a mess. A wreck. And still—

Still he whispered:

“L-Lucky I l-let you… inside…”

And Auau lost it.

He came deep, groaning through gritted teeth, hands trembling as he held Save close—and Save came right after him, loud and shaking, eyes rolled back, body ruined.

Collapsed.

Fucked dumb.

Finally quiet.

Just a soft, broken whisper as Auau kissed his shoulder:

“…don’t pull out yet…”

Auau had his hands on Save’s hips now—Save had finally allowed it, after nearly ten full minutes of begging like his life depended on it—and he was still acting like he was being merciful.

Because Save was moving again.

Slow, devastating rolls of his hips as he straddled Auau, lace straps biting into that soft skin, Auau’s shirt slipping off one shoulder. His head was tipped back, lips parted just slightly—but even with his breath hitching, even with his thighs starting to shake, that same smug little spark stayed in his eyes.

Auau was wrecked beneath him.

“You’re so mean,” Auau rasped, digging his fingers in, holding Save like he might float away. “You know I’ll give you anything. You know I’ll break for you.”

“And yet I’m the one on top,” Save murmured, voice honey-slick and cruel. He leaned down just enough to nip at Auau’s lips, but didn’t kiss him. “What does that say about you, hmm?”

“That I’m weak,” Auau groaned. “So weak for you.”

“Obviously.” Save smirked. “You nearly cried when I said no the first time.”

Auau whimpered again—his whole body jolting under Save’s next grind, but Save just chuckled, completely unbothered, dragging his fingers down Auau’s chest.

“You want me so bad,” he whispered, right into his ear. “Look at you. All sweaty and messy and desperate for someone smaller than you to use you like a toy.”

“ Please, Save,” Auau gasped. “Please just—”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Save cut him off with a kiss. Finally. A filthy, bruising kiss that left Auau clawing at him like a dog in heat.

And even then , when Save was clearly trembling—clearly trying not to show how turned on he was—he pulled back just to say, “God, you’re such a good boy when you beg.”

Auau moaned. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Save purred. “Now shut up and let me ride you.”

Auau was gone .

Back arched, nails digging into Save’s thighs, his head thrown back against the cushions like he’d been possessed . His pretty rockstar mouth hung open, panting, gasping as Save rolled his hips again—lace dragging slow and perfect over the hard line straining beneath his jeans.

“Shit— Save— ”

“You close already?” Save whispered, breath warm against his neck. “Just from that?”

“Y-Yeah, I—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Hmm.”

Save sat up.

Just like that.

The warmth vanished.

The rhythm stopped.

And Save. Got. Off.

Auau blinked up in full disbelief. Still rock-hard, still gasping, his whole body practically vibrating with tension—and Save was already walking toward the closet, stretching casually with a satisfied little yawn.

“Where are you going,” Auau croaked.

“To shower.”

“ Babe. ”

Save paused at the door. Looked over his shoulder with that cat-like glint in his eyes, lips curling wickedly.

“What?”

“I didn’t—You didn’t— You can’t just leave me like this. ”

“Oh, I can.” He turned fully, hands on his hips—his thighs still flushed, the lace still clinging to him like a dream. “You came. I didn’t.”

“I DIDN’T—!”

“You will. Eventually.” Save smirked. “Be patient. Good boys get rewards.”

And then he was gone.

Left the door open on purpose, too, so Auau could hear the water running while he sat there, pants tented, mouth open, brain fully fried— destroyed by his own boyfriend in cute lace who hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Save’s attempts to act like he was fine, his body betrayed him. He couldn’t walk properly. His legs were trembling, his thighs sore and bruised from the wild, desperate love he’d shared with Auau. He was still angry—mostly at himself, for giving in to Auau’s crazy puppy love. But also… a little angry that his body had been completely wrecked .

But the real question was: Why was it that every time he thought he was mad at Auau, he still couldn’t help but want to be close to him?

Save’s legs buckled as he tried to stand up from the couch, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he nearly stumbled. His knees trembled, and there was no hiding how much it hurt.

Auau was immediately at his side, his expression soft but full of concern. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper as his hands gently hovered near Save’s waist.

Save shot him a glare. “I’m fine. Don’t touch me ,” he snapped, even though the words were weak.

Auau didn’t back off, though. Instead, he caught Save’s hand before he could pull away, leading him to the bathroom. His voice was filled with guilt, but also that tender, patient love that made Save feel both unbearably warm and infuriatingly soft at the same time.

“I’ll carry you,” Auau said, his words soft, barely a breath. “Let me take care of you. Please, Save.”

Save wanted to argue. He wanted to throw a fit and tell Auau he was fine , that he didn’t need any of this extra attention, but the second Auau scooped him up into his arms, it felt like all his resistance melted away. He was too tired , his body too drained from everything that had happened, from the rush of emotions, the bruising intensity of it all.

“Stop acting so soft,” Save muttered, but it was barely a protest. His head rested against Auau’s chest as Auau carried him into the bathroom, whispering praises the whole way.

“You’re so strong, baby,” Auau murmured, pressing a kiss to Save’s forehead as he set him down in front of the shower. His hands were gentle as he turned on the water, adjusting the temperature just right. “You’re so beautiful. I’m sorry for everything .”

Save wanted to yell at him. He really did. But instead, he just let it go . All of it. Every bit of pride, every ounce of annoyance, melted away as Auau’s soft hands guided him into the shower.

Save, still pretending to be mad, folded his arms over his chest and gave him a glare. “I’m not soft ,” he grumbled.

Auau smiled, the kind of smile that could melt even the most stubborn of hearts. “I know, baby,” he said as he helped remove Save’s clothes carefully, eyes flicking over the bruises on his thighs. “I’m just saying… you are my soft spot.”

Save’s eyes darted down, pretending not to care about how the words made his chest tighten. He hated how his heart skipped, how his body seemed to betray him with every whispered word.

“Stop talking like that,” Save muttered, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck.

Auau kissed the top of his head. “I’ll stop talking when you let me show you just how much I love you, even when you’re mad at me.”

Save looked up at him, his lips twitching into a small, stubborn smile. “I’m still mad at you,” he lied, even as his legs trembled. The bruises on his thighs ached, but it was nothing compared to the heat flooding his chest from Auau’s affection.

Auau took his hands and pressed them against his chest, letting Save feel the steady beat of his heart. “I know you are. But I’m gonna take care of you. Always.”

Save couldn’t hold it in anymore. He let out a soft sigh, his body giving in. Slowly, he leaned into Auau’s chest as the warm water started to pour over them, the steam filling the room.

“I don’t need your cuddles,” Save whispered, his voice soft as he buried his face into Auau’s shirt, allowing himself just a moment of weakness.

Auau smiled and held him closer, his hands running gently through Save’s hair. “But you do need me. And I’m right here.”

It didn’t take long before Save’s earlier resistance melted into nothing. The warmth of the water, Auau’s steady touch, his whispered words of adoration, everything wrapped around Save like a blanket he didn’t know he needed.

“I don’t hate you,” Save murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… not gonna let you get away with this.”

Auau pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, his smile mischievous but full of love. “I don’t expect you to. But I’ll always make it up to you, okay?”

Save closed his eyes, letting the sound of Auau’s heartbeat lull him into a quiet sense of peace, the tremors in his legs slowing as Auau held him steady, as always.

⸻

They stayed in the shower for a while, Save silently resting against Auau, letting himself be held, letting himself relax, despite how much he wanted to stay angry. When they finally stepped out, Auau wrapped him in a towel, whispering more praises, rubbing his back, and giving him more affection than Save could ever openly admit to needing.

But when they got to the bed later, Save didn’t fight it anymore. As soon as Auau tugged him close, his arms wrapped around him, holding him tight, Save’s resistance completely vanished.

He buried his face into Auau’s chest, letting himself enjoy just this moment. The aftercare was soft, comforting, everything Save didn’t know he was craving.

And just like that, the tension, the anger, and the frustration melted away, leaving only the warmth of Auau’s love.

Auau’s one hand rests on the wheel, long fingers curled with ease, veins stark against his tanned skin. The other hand? Draped possessively on Save’s thigh, thumb brushing lazy, slow circles over soft skin and lace.

He’s wearing that outfit—the black tank snug over his frame, hugging his broad chest and muscled arms, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The chain at his neck gleams faintly in the light, a glint every time he shifts gears. His earrings catch the sun like sharp punctuation marks to his already-too-pretty face. His jeans are tailored, hugging the line of his long legs, and he sits with the relaxed sprawl of a man who knows he’s being watched—even when he’s not.

And then there’s Save.

Bundled up in the passenger seat like a royal brat, his oversized black sweater swallowing his small frame whole. The neckline hangs wide, showing a sliver of collarbone and the start of his shoulder. He’s got black shorts on, trimmed with delicate lace, just barely visible under the hem of his sweater.

His legs are curled up under the soft black blanket Auau always brings, and in his arms is the absurdly fluffy bunny Jellycat plushie Auau bought him on a whim. He’d said it looked like Save when he whined.

Save had rolled his eyes. Then cuddled it every night since.

His head is tilted toward the window, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he dozes, lips slightly parted, still glossy from whatever balm he swiped on hours ago. In his lap is the pink tumbler covered in I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND stickers and little doodles of hearts and guitars. The irony? He drinks from it like a princess and side-eyes anyone who even thinks of mocking it.

He’s shameless like that. Subtle like thunder.

Every red light, Auau’s tortured.

Because Save stirs just enough, whines faintly—“Kiss”—without opening his eyes, and leans blindly toward him.

And like clockwork, Auau leans in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

It’s sweet. Gentle.

Until Save, still half-asleep, licks his mouth .

Just one slow, lazy swipe of tongue against Auau’s bottom lip. And then flops back down, sighing, bunny in arms.

Auau has to grip the wheel tighter. His jaw ticks.

“What the hell,” he mutters under his breath. His voice sounds strained, his eyes blown too wide for a man just trying to drive. “You’re evil.”

Save doesn’t answer.

Just curls deeper into the blanket, smiling in his sleep like he knows exactly what he’s done.

It was nearly criminal. The way Save pretended .

Like he didn’t just tongue-kiss the sanity right out of his boyfriend’s body and then nestle into the blanket like a helpless little angel.

Auau kept driving. He had to. Couldn’t risk wrecking the Porsche just because his boyfriend was a menace in kitten shorts. But his grip on the steering wheel was iron now, knuckles pale, his jaw ticking with every red light that reminded him: Save was built to ruin him.

The bunny plush sat smugly in Save’s arms.

The pink tumbler sparkled with heart stickers.

And Auau’s hand—traitorous, obedient—kept rubbing small, calming circles on Save’s thigh like he was the one who needed soothing.

The song shifted. A slower track. Something with soft guitar and lyrics that made Auau’s throat feel tight. It was one of the songs Save had looped on purpose. The kind of thing he only played when he wanted Auau to think about things.

Like how small Save was, curled up like that. How soft his hair looked brushing over his cheek. How delicate the lace was around his thighs.

How he looked like he needed to be held forever.

“Mine,” Auau muttered without thinking.

Auau shouldn’t be looking.

He shouldn’t be staring down at the pale skin of Save’s thigh, bare under that sweater swallowed around his tiny frame, especially not while driving 80 on the freeway with both hands supposed to be on the wheel.

But Save was so soft like this. So evil in his softness.

He was slouched low in the passenger seat, knees up under the blanket, black lace just barely visible where the hem had ridden up. His mouth parted slightly, plush lips wet, the curve of them like a bite begging to happen.

Auau swallowed hard and adjusted his grip on the wheel. The tank he wore—black, tight, paper-thin—felt suffocating now, clinging to his skin with every flex of his arms. The chain around his neck dragged cold across his collarbones, a small mercy, but not enough.

Not with Save lying there like that .

With that smug little plushie in his arms and his sweater half off his shoulder, skin warm and glowing in the late afternoon light.

Auau’s hand slid higher on Save’s thigh. Slowly. Testing.

Save breathed out a sound.

A soft, sleepy whine. And then, “Mm… baby…”

He didn’t even open his eyes. He just turned his face slightly toward Auau, lips grazing air like a command.

“Kiss,” he whispered.

And Auau—dumb, desperate, entirely undone—leaned over during the red light and pressed a slow kiss to his lips.

Just a kiss. Just a—

Save’s tongue licked along his bottom lip.

Auau froze. Jaw tight. Heart pounding.

Save didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t acknowledge it.

Just sighed like he was bored and pulled the blanket closer, hugging the bunny tighter. His sweater slid off one bare shoulder, collar slipping low enough to show the dip of his collarbone and a faint red mark from a night long past. A souvenir. From him .

Auau’s hand stayed on his thigh. This time, higher.

Dangerously high.

He pressed his palm flat, fingers curling slightly, just enough to feel the heat under the lace. His tank clung tighter now, sweat forming at his temple despite the AC.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely, leaning closer. “You keep playing like this, I’m gonna stop this car and remind you exactly why I warned you what not to do while driving.”

Save didn’t answer.

Just smiled. Smiled . The most innocent, unconscious smile, eyes still shut, lips parted.

They stopped at a gas station off the highway—middle of nowhere, just road dust, buzzing neon, and a sleepy sun slipping lower into the hills. Auau parked, stole one last look at his boyfriend still curled up like a black cat on silk, and got out to grab snacks. Just a five-minute break. A few chips, a bottle of water, maybe something sweet for Save to nibble on when he woke.

He was trying to be good. So good.

But when he came back…

He opened the door and froze .

There, bent over into the backseat, Save was half-kneeling in his seat, arms stretched back for the tissues tucked behind. His black sweater had ridden up from the motion, clinging around his waist like it, too, wanted to tempt death. And his shorts—tiny, black, lace-trimmed traitors —had tugged up with him, the soft fabric framing the curve of his ass like a gift Auau was not prepared for.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

It was the strap . The delicate, sinful little line of black lace stringing over his hips, peeking out with zero shame, snug and intentional.

Auau stared. Bag of chips in one hand. Heart collapsing in his chest.

That was the first thing he saw .

And it ruined him .

His throat dried out. His tank stuck even tighter to his skin, sweat forming between his shoulder blades despite the AC still whirring from inside. His silver chain shifted as he swallowed, eyes glued— glued —to the way Save’s hips shifted slightly as he adjusted, still not noticing Auau had come back.

Still not knowing what he looked like right now.

Auau shut the door with a quiet thunk , and Save gasped, startled, turning over his shoulder with the softest, laziest blink.

“Oh,” he said, flopping back into the passenger seat. Innocent. Clueless. Evil. “You’re back.”

Auau just stared at him.

Still bent up in that sweater. Still breathing like nothing had happened. That pink tumbler with boyfriend stickers clutched in one hand, his plush bunny in the other, and the ghost of that thong strap seared into Auau’s brain like a threat.

“Baby?” Save tilted his head, blinking slowly. “Did you get my sour candies?”

Auau said nothing.

He just handed him the snacks with a trembling hand, got in behind the wheel, and stared through the windshield like he was going to drive them into the sun.

Because that thong?

That thong was going to kill him.

Auau had lasted exactly seventeen more minutes down the road.

Seventeen minutes of Save pretending to yawn and stretch, his sweater slipping off one shoulder again— again —like it wasn’t clinging to him on purpose. Seventeen minutes of him tucking his legs under him, shifting until his bare thighs peeked out further, brushing against Auau’s hand on the gear shift like he didn’t know what he was doing.

Then he sipped from that ridiculous pink tumbler, lips wrapping around the straw like a menace , eyes fluttering shut as if he was just a sweet, sleepy passenger and not an actual demon sent to ruin his boyfriend’s composure one highway mile at a time.

And then— then —Save had the audacity to whisper, breath soft and innocent:

“You’re driving so well, baby. So focused. Don’t crash, okay?”

He even giggled.

That was it. That was absolutely it.

Auau didn’t say a word. Just flicked the signal, pulled sharply off the main road, and veered into the first half-empty parking lot he saw—shaded, private, just out of sight.

He turned the engine off.

Save blinked. “Huh? Why’d we—”

The seatbelt clicked as Auau unfastened it, and Save’s sentence died in the air.

Because Auau was already leaning across the console, bracing one palm on the headrest behind Save, his chain brushing against the collar of Save’s sweater as he looked at him. Just looked.

Hot. Dark. Starved.

“You think you’re funny,” Auau murmured, voice low, the kind that felt like it curled into your throat and stayed there.

Save blinked up, wide-eyed— playing dumb . “I just—wasn’t doing anything…”

“You weren’t doing anything?” Auau’s hand slid under the hem of the sweater, finding that warm line of lace again, thumb brushing over the strap like a warning.

Save’s breath caught.

“I’ve been gripping the wheel so hard my veins hurt,” Auau whispered, lips near Save’s ear now, “and you’ve been squirming in that seat like it’s a game.”

The plush bunny sat abandoned on the floor now.

Save bit his lip. “Maybe I just wanted attention.”

“You’re gonna get it.”

He said it with such certainty, such heat, that Save swallowed hard and leaned his head back against the seat, half-challenging, half-melting.

“So show me.”

And Auau did . Not rough, not reckless. Just intense.

He kissed him—finally kissed him properly, like he had been starving through every stoplight, every sleepy whimper, every shift of Save’s thighs—and Save kissed him back, fingers curling in the fabric of Auau’s tank, the silver chain cool against his collarbone.

The windows fogged. Somewhere in the backseat, the plush bunny rolled over onto its side, bearing silent witness.

Save had barely finished saying “So show me” before Auau moved.

One strong arm hooked around his waist and, with a smoothness that betrayed just how many times he’d thought about this, Auau pulled Save clean across the console and straight into his lap—into the driver’s seat.

The black knit sweater slid even further up Save’s thighs, his legs straddling Auau now, lace-trimmed shorts bunching obscenely where they rode up on his hips. Auau’s palm splayed low on his back, holding him close, while his other hand ghosted up the outside of Save’s thigh, just under the hem.

“Better,” Auau muttered, voice gritted like he was holding back something wild. “Now I can see you properly when you do that little innocent act.”

Save tilted his head, playing coy, lashes low. “What act?”

The worst part was that he meant it —or pretended to.

Auau’s hand moved up, under the back of the sweater, dragging his nails lightly up Save’s spine just to feel the way Save shivered against him. Save buried his face in Auau’s shoulder, breath catching, arms curling around his neck like he was clinging on for dear life.

“You wear that sweater on purpose,” Auau said, low and hot against Save’s cheek. “You know how small you look in it. You know what you’re doing.”

Save made a soft sound, more breath than voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You licked my mouth and went back to sleep, ” Auau growled, half laughing, half wrecked. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

He kissed Save again, but this time it was messier—hotter. Like punishment and praise in the same breath.

Save squirmed in his lap, hands tangled in the straps of Auau’s tank top now, pulling just to feel the stretch of his lean chest beneath. The chain around Auau’s neck pressed cold to his throat. Their bodies moved like they were synced—like Save wasn’t the one who started it, but definitely the one controlling the fire.

And when Save leaned back just a little, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, sweater slipping entirely off one shoulder now, he looked down at Auau and whispered:

“You’re the one that pulled over.”

And Auau? Auau had never been more in love. Or in pain .

The car was still running. Somewhere in the distance, a moth brushed against the windshield. The streetlight above them flickered once, twice, like even it couldn’t bear to watch.

Auau’s breath hitched—tight, desperate. His hands were still on Save, one at the small of his back, the other just beneath the curve of his thigh where his skin was softest. His knuckles flexed as Save shifted slightly in his lap, the grind of hips not even intentional—just instinct. Torturous instinct.

And Save smiled. That smile.

That barely-there, pouty curve of lips. The one that said I know you want me like air. I want you too—but I want you wrecked first.

“You’re the one that pulled over,” Save had said.

Auau groaned, low and gravel-deep, forehead tipping forward to rest against Save’s. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“You can’t die,” Save murmured, brushing his lips along the tip of Auau’s nose, featherlight. “You haven’t even suffered yet.”

That got a sound out of Auau—a choked-off laugh, somewhere between love-sick and doom-struck. His grip tightened, jaw clenching like it took everything not to just pin Save against the wheel and beg .

Instead, Save reached up, slow and unhurried, curling his fingers around the thin silver chain at Auau’s throat. He tugged. Just enough to make Auau tilt his head back slightly, eyes fluttering, mouth parted.

“Good boy,” Save breathed.

Auau shuddered . Actually, physically shivered. His hands slid further down, gripping under Save’s thighs now, trying so hard to behave even as his heart beat wild in his chest like a drumline made for Save alone.

“You think this is how teasing works?” he said hoarsely, even as Save kept playing with the chain—dragging the cool silver across his collarbone, down to his chest.

“I think,” Save whispered, dragging his lips to Auau’s ear, “that you like being teased, pup.”

The breath Auau let out could have scorched the air between them. “I’m two seconds away from making you beg.”

“Oh?” Save leaned back a touch, thighs still snug around him, sweater barely hanging onto one shoulder, cheeks flushed, lips bitten and wet. “So show me.”

It was the same words from before, but this time it felt like a dare.

And Auau—God, he didn’t need to be told twice.

He surged forward, catching Save’s lips again, but this time with hands that gripped, kneaded, worshipped. One dragged up Save’s back, under that damn sweater, while the other splayed possessively across the back of his thigh. Save gasped into the kiss, but didn’t pull away—he pulled closer , curling tighter into Auau like he belonged there.

Which he did.

And when Auau kissed down his jaw, to the dip of his neck, to the spot just under his ear that always made Save tremble—Save bit his lip, his hand in Auau’s hair now, guiding, gripping, sighing.

“Such a good boy,” he whispered.

Auau’s next sound was a growl.

And the car? Still running. Still steaming up with heat that had nothing to do with the weather outside.

⸻

Auau had just managed to press Save down against the leather seat—finally, finally skin on skin, breath to breath, Save’s thighs cradling his hips perfectly, his sweater hiked up so high it was nothing short of a scandal—when his phone rang.

Neither of them moved.

Save blinked up at him, lips swollen, chest rising fast, one hand still tangled in Auau’s chain like he owned it— owned him . “You’re not gonna answer that.”

“I swear,” Auau muttered, breath ragged, “if that’s Tee or Thomas, I’m throwing the phone out the window.”

The phone rang again. A third time.

Then a fourth.

“Persistent,” Save whispered, dragging the pads of his fingers down the side of Auau’s neck, hot and smug and dizzying. “Must be important.”

Auau groaned like he was in physical pain, then reached back blindly, yanked the phone from the dash, and barked, “What.”

Thomas’ voice came through the speaker in an urgent yell. “Bro where the hell are you?! We’re literally up for rehearsal in three hours and the fest grounds are two hours away!”

Both of them froze.

There was a beat of silence. Save looked up at him with the slow dawning horror of don’t you dare .

Auau’s hand curled tighter around the back of Save’s thigh. “No.”

“YES,” Thomas shouted. “The stage crew just called—they’re ahead of schedule. If you’re not here in two hours you’re gonna miss your only tech run. Get in the f—”

Auau ended the call with his face blank and defeated.

Save didn’t say anything for a moment, his hand still against Auau’s chest, their breaths mingling, both of them vibrating with heat. Then—

He dropped his head to Auau’s shoulder and groaned , muffled and high-pitched. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Auau let out a helpless, deranged laugh, kissing the side of Save’s temple like it would keep him sane. “I swear to god, I’m gonna set Thomas’s drum kit on fire.”

Save sat up slightly, looking down at himself—his sweater up, shorts barely clinging on, the whole picture a disheveled masterpiece of almost . He rolled his hips once— just to be mean—and Auau physically choked .

“Save,” he rasped, hands locking around Save’s waist. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Oh, I know.” Save leaned in, brushing their noses together, smiling so pretty it was evil. “And you’re gonna perform tonight thinking about how you had me right there, and didn’t get to finish.”

Auau just stared, wrecked.

Then Save winked, climbed off his lap with excruciating slowness, and adjusted his sweater back into place like nothing happened.

“Let’s go, Rockstar,” he said, already sliding back into the passenger seat, breath still shaky. “Wouldn’t want to be late.”

Auau sat there for a moment, gripping the wheel, eyes still glazed and brain absolutely fried .

He started the car.

And muttered, “I am not surviving this concert.”

The rehearsal tent was loud—cables, amps, and buzzing feedback as crew members scurried around adjusting mic levels and lighting. Thomas was yelling into a headset, sweat sticking his fringe to his forehead, when the back tent flap rustled open and Save walked in.

No one noticed at first.

But Auau did.

He was mid-sentence, trying to explain something to the sound tech about his in-ear monitor, when he looked up and his words just—died.

Save stood at the entrance like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t almost ruined Auau’s entire soul in a parking lot less than two hours ago. His black sweater hung lazy and low off one shoulder, exposing the sharp dip of his collarbone. His hair—messy, soft, and fluffy in a way that looked like Auau had just run his hands through it—was swept up in gentle waves, the bangs feathering across his forehead like they were painted there .

He looked like a dream. A threat. Both.

And Save was sipping from that pink tumbler. The one with “Property of Rockstar” proudly stuck to the side.

He locked eyes with Auau, tilted his head just slightly, and smiled—wide, boyish, bright. But there was a glint in his eyes that said you remember how I looked in your lap, don’t you ?

Thomas followed Auau’s gaze and let out a low whistle. “Oh. Damn.”

Then louder, “You good, lover boy, or should we call the med tent?”

Auau blinked. “Shut up.”

“Because you’re looking a little faint.” Thomas leaned closer, grinning. “Little dizzy. Dehydrated. Blue-balled. ”

Save purred a little hum behind his tumbler.

Auau groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face, muttering something halfway between a plea and a curse. “You’re evil.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Save asked sweetly, stepping closer, voice dipped in honey. “Didn’t quite hear you, pup.”

Someone—maybe tee or was it por or kong?— howled .

Thomas doubled over with laughter.

And Auau? He slumped onto his amp, face in his hands, as his band fell apart around him and the boy who had nearly ended him winked and sat down like he didn’t just detonate the tent with one look.

Save didn’t even have to touch him. He’d already won.

The greenroom was dim and too warm, soft lighting casting a golden glow across the velvet couch where Auau was sprawled like a man defeated. He had ripped off his tank top, hair damp with sweat, muscles taut beneath the black sports bra-like band he always wore under it when rehearsing.

And still, even now, he could feel Save’s legs. Could feel the ghost of him straddling his lap. That sweater. Those shorts. That look.

He didn’t even flinch when the door creaked open. He knew who it was.

The air changed.

Save stepped in without a sound, letting the door click shut behind him. He didn’t say anything, just walked slowly to where Auau sat, hands behind his back, sipping lazily from that tumbler.

Auau’s eyes followed him like he was prey.

Save tilted his head. “You look tired.”

Auau gave a rough breath of a laugh. “You wrecked me.”

“Mmm.” Save took another sip, then bent forward just a little, standing between Auau’s knees. “Did I?”

“You know you did.”

Save leaned in, close enough for his sweater to brush Auau’s bare chest. He tugged gently on the chain around Auau’s neck, eyes glittering. “Still worked hard, though. Good boy.”

Auau whined.

Just a soft, choked sound he couldn’t even swallow in time.

Save smiled—so soft, so unfair. He let go of the chain and reached up, carding his fingers through Auau’s damp hair, tugging gently at the roots before smoothing them back. “You were so focused. Playing like your fingers weren’t shaking. All for me?”

“I’m gonna die,” Auau whispered, voice breaking. “You’re actually trying to kill me.”

“Not yet.”

Save leaned down like he was going to kiss him—lips brushing the corner of Auau’s mouth—and then didn’t . Just shifted to press his cheek against Auau’s and murmured, “Still sore about earlier? You know you were the one who stopped.”

“You’re the one who licked my mouth and said good morning. ”

“You’re the one who pulled me into your lap,” Save whispered, fingers now at the nape of Auau’s neck, nails grazing just enough to make him twitch. “You started it.”

“And you finished me,” Auau groaned, throwing his head back.

Just then—the door opened. Slammed open.

Keng.

Standing in the doorway. Wide-eyed. And instantly suspicious . “Okay, what the hell is going on in here. I left you alone for five minutes.”

Save turned his head slightly, still in Auau’s lap, unbothered, dreamy. “Auau was overheating. I’m helping.”

Keng blinked. “By straddling him?”

“Body heat regulation. Science.”

Auau buried his face in Save’s stomach.

“Okay,” Keng said slowly. “I’m gonna pretend I believe that, tell Thomas you’re both alive, and go make myself deaf on my own bass amp until whatever this is leaves my brain. ”

Door closes.

Silence.

Auau groaned again, arms locking around Save’s waist. “That man saw your thighs. You owe me.”

Save smiled and kissed the top of his head. “You’ll survive, pup.”

No, he wouldn’t.

Not with Save looking like that.

The lights shift to a quiet golden haze for the last song. The crowd is still buzzing from the set, but there’s a hush now—like they know something is about to happen.

Auau steps forward slowly, breath still uneven from dancing, his leather jacket open, dark shirt clinging to him under the heat. His hand curls around the mic stand like he needs it to steady himself.

“This one’s not on the setlist,” he says, voice softer now. “But I wanted to sing it… for someone really special.”

He glances stage left—toward the side, where Save stands just out of the spotlight. Looking devastatingly pretty in his loose white pants, a delicate black lace shrug falling off one shoulder, that soft star necklace glinting against his collarbone. His hair’s tousled, lips a little bitten from nervous habit, but his eyes—his eyes are all for Auau.

And Auau smiles, real and wide and a little breathless.

“For my love. Who’s mine.”

Then the chords of “My Love is Mine All Mine” begin, slow and aching like a heart unfolding.

Auau sings with everything in him. Not to the crowd. Not to the cameras. But just to him.

And Save watches. Unmoving. Lips pressed together, arms crossed in that way he does when he’s overwhelmed but pretending not to be. His chin lifts, just a little. His eyes are glassy.

He’s so proud.

So, so proud.

And when Auau finishes—voice lingering on the last mine… all mine —he doesn’t wait for the lights or the beat to drop again.

He jumps off the stage in two strides, landing lightly in front of Save, who’s already shaking his head with a breathless smile like, you’re insane .

Auau holds out a hand. Just that.

Save rolls his eyes—softly. But he takes it. Lets himself be pulled up gently, waist brushing Auau’s chest, shoes barely planted on the ground.

“You’re ridiculous,” Save murmurs.

“And you’re beautiful,” Auau whispers back.

He kisses Save, slow and sure. Nothing flashy. Just his hand at the back of Save’s neck, and Save tipping up on his toes to meet him. Their foreheads rest together after, and Auau laughs quietly into the side of Save’s cheek.

In the background, someone sighs dramatically—probably Keng.

But the crowd doesn’t cheer wildly.

They murmur . Warm and in awe. It feels like watching someone fall in love in real time.

Save blinks up at Auau with a soft, crooked grin and says, “You’re really mine, huh?”

Auau grins back. “Always.”

And Save kisses him again. Just because he can.

They’re backstage now, tucked behind a curtain, the music still ringing in their bones.

Save is standing between Auau’s legs while he sits on a crate, face tilted up, eyes full of something that’s not quite tears but close. Auau cups his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the soft skin beneath his eyes.

“You looked so bright like a star, my star out there,” Save says quietly, so no one else hears. “I couldn’t breathe.”

Auau just smiles, dizzy and full of love. “You were my oxygen.”

And then Save leans in, presses the gentlest kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, whispering, “You did so well, baby.”

Auau blushes. Actually blushes . He leans forward to rest his forehead against Save’s shoulder, whispering, “Keep saying that. Please.”

The afterparty is buzzing behind them, lights and music and the energy of thousands still echoing—but Save and Auau slip away, just for a moment. Just for them .

They find a quiet hill behind the festival grounds, a little grassy slope overlooking the stage and the sky, where the fireworks are promised to go off at midnight.

Auau’s leather jacket is around Save’s shoulders now—he draped it there without a word when he saw Save hug himself from the breeze. Save muttered a quiet “thank you,” but leaned into him a little closer anyway.

They sit with knees bumping, pinkies linked.

“I’m proud of you,” Save says, voice barely louder than the wind. “You were amazing tonight.”

Auau doesn’t say anything for a second. He’s just looking at Save, eyes soft and slow and full of something too much .

And then—BOOM. The first firework goes off, painting the night with red and gold.

Auau laughs quietly. “You always say that. Even if I mess up.”

“Because you don’t mess up,” Save replies, like it’s obvious . “And even if you did—I’d still be proud. You’re mine.”

The next firework is silver. It lights Save’s face like he’s glowing. Like he belongs to the sky.

Auau watches him with a kind of reverence. “You’re really not real, are you?”

Save leans into his shoulder, hair brushing his cheek. “If I’m not, you’re dreaming good.”

They watch the rest of the fireworks like that—Save curled into Auau’s side, their fingers laced. When the finale comes, loud and wild and beautiful, Auau tips Save’s chin up with two fingers and kisses him slow. Gentle.

“You’re everything,” he says into his mouth. “All mine.”

And Save, still tasting firework sugar and love on his lips, just smiles.

“Yours.”

They’re walking back to the van now, far behind the rest of the crew. The sky’s still faintly glowing from the last of the fireworks, and Auau’s hand is warm in Save’s.

Save is quiet—sleepy in that soft way he gets when the adrenaline fades. He’s still in the outfit he wore to the festival: a black lace long-sleeve half-cardi, all delicate thread and off-shoulder slouch, just barely clinging to one side of his frame. Underneath, his white tank top is cropped, hugging the slim line of his waist, the gentle dip of his spine flashing each time he walks ahead.

The lace sleeves keep slipping down, and Save doesn’t fix them anymore. He just lets them fall as he tucks himself closer to Auau, practically disappearing into the warmth of his boyfriend’s open black shirt and leather jacket.

Auau has an arm around him. Tight. Like he’s trying to protect Save from the wind, the cold, the world.

“Are you warm?” Auau asks, quietly.

“Mm,” Save hums, not really answering—just leaning closer, turning to press a soft kiss to Auau’s jaw.

Then another. On his neck.

Another. On the underside of his chin.

Auau stops walking.

“Baby—”

“Mm?” Save peers up at him, eyes wide, innocent. His fingers curl in the lapel of Auau’s jacket like they belong there.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“You already said I’m yours,” Save whispers, standing on tiptoe, pressing another kiss right beneath Auau’s lips. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Auau doesn’t answer. He just pulls Save fully into him, arms wrapping around the smaller boy’s waist, burying his face into his neck.

And Save—Save melts . He giggles softly, arms curling up under Auau’s jacket like he’s crawling inside him, hiding there. He’s so small compared to Auau, all soft skin and quiet laughter, and Auau holds him like he’s made of gold.

“I’m so in love with you,” Auau mumbles into his shoulder.

Save nods. Doesn’t even tease him. Just tugs him down, kisses him again—light, short, like he’s saying thank you with his mouth. “I know. Me too.”

Auau sits in the very back row of the van, hoodie off, black leather jacket draped loosely over the seat. His legs are spread, Save curled between them, completely knocked out from the long day, head tucked under Auau’s chin, his entire body folded into Auau’s like he belongs there .

Save’s black lace sleeve is bunched around his wrist, fingers curled loosely in the fabric of Auau’s tank top. His cheek rests on Auau’s chest, mouth slightly parted, lashes long against his cheeks.

And Auau?

Auau is smiling . Not his usual cheeky one. A small, soft, ruined smile, fingers stroking gently over Save’s hip where the tank top’s ridden up, tracing the exposed skin like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the world.

He’s being so quiet . So still. Like if he moves too fast, Save might disappear.

Meanwhile—

Kong: whisper-yelling from the middle row

“Why did we let them sit together? Why didn’t we tie Save to manager?!”

Thomas: head against the window, defeated

“Because manager took one look at Save’s outfit and said, ‘nope, I’m not responsible for that.’”

Por:

“ Bro , they haven’t even spoken in like twenty minutes, and I’m still uncomfortable.”

Tee: in a whisper of deep betrayal

“I think I just saw Auau kiss his hair . I need to go to church.”

Thomas:

“You don’t even go to church.”

Tee:

“NOW I DO.”

Kong turns around again just to make sure. Yep. Still there. Save, curled up like a sleepy kitten, half under Auau’s shirt, lace sleeve slipping, breath fogging faintly against Auau’s neck. And Auau’s smiling again , stupid and soft, pressing the gentlest kiss to Save’s hairline like he’s got nothing else to live for.

Kong, shaking the back of the seat:

“Get a ROOM—”

Save shifts.

Everyone goes silent.

Save mumbles something in his sleep—something that sounds suspiciously like “Auau” , soft and warm and sweet.

And then?

Auau makes this tiny, stifled sound , like he just physically cannot handle being this in love, and pulls Save impossibly closer.

Everyone groans in unison.

Por:

“I’m gonna throw myself out the moving vehicle.”

Thomas:

“Let them live. They’re happy. Whatever.”

Tee:

“I’m writing my will.”

BONUS 1:

Save was on the bed, sprawled out like he owned it—because he did. Auau stood frozen by the door, chest heaving, jaw slack, staring like he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing.

Save didn’t even glance at him.

He was on his back, legs lazily bent, the lace of his panties pushed aside as his fingers worked between his thighs—slow, deliberate, utterly shameless. Auau’s shirt clung to his frame, slipping off one shoulder, baring the smooth line of his neck, collarbone flushed pink.

“You’re late,” Save said, voice light, casual, like he wasn’t currently moaning softly through his teeth while stretching himself open. “Took your time getting home.”

“W–what are you doing?” Auau croaked, voice barely above a whisper.

Save finally looked at him, smug and bratty and so unfairly pretty it made Auau’s knees weak.

“Prepping,” he said simply, eyes lidded. “Since someone was too busy flirting with his fans to come home and fuck me.”

Auau’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t flirting—”

“You were smiling at their comments,” Save murmured, fingers dipping deeper, breath catching. “Bet none of them could take you like I do.”

That did it.

Auau was across the room in seconds, practically dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed. “Baby—Save—fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

Save just smirked, lips parted, cheeks flushed, movements unrelenting. “You gonna beg?” he purred. “Or are you just gonna watch while I fuck myself open for you?”

Auau groaned, hands gripping the sheets, eyes locked on where those delicate fingers disappeared into tight heat. “I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

Save licked his lips, slow and wicked. “That’s the point.”

Auau blinked. His tail, metaphorically speaking, dropped. “Then why won’t you touch me?”

“Because you’ve been annoying.”

And there it was. The dagger. Save,wearing auau’s oversized Tshirt , his messy hair, and that impossible-to-read expression that said I care about you more than life itself, but I’d rather die than say it out loud.

Auau groaned, grabbed a guitar pick from the nightstand, and dramatically flung it across the room.

That finally made Save glance up.

“Are you trying to summon Satan or something?”

“I’m trying to summon you! ” Auau yelled.

Save’s eyebrow twitched. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but he was too prideful for that.

Then he stood up. Walked across the room.

Auau backed up slightly on the bed, eyes going big, pupils dilated like a scared puppy.

Save pulled him on the bed climbed onto the him and straddled his thighs, grabbing a fistful of Auau’s shirt. “You’re so needy, you know that?”

“Yes,” Auau whispered. “And I’m dying.”

Save leaned close. Close enough that their noses almost touched. “Maybe I like it when you squirm for my attention.”

Auau whimpered. He couldn’t help it.

“But if you ever throw your guitar pick again or behave like this,” Save murmured, voice low and soft and lethal, “I’ll make sure you’re never ruining me again.”

“…Promise?”

“ Stupid puppy. ”

But Save kissed him then, hard and slow, and Auau melted like butter—tail wagging in spirit, finally looked at, finally held.

BONUS 2:

Save was on the bed, sprawled out like he owned it—because he did. Auau stood frozen by the door, chest heaving, jaw slack, staring like he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing.

Save didn’t even glance at him.

He was on his back, legs lazily bent, the lace of his panties pushed aside as his fingers worked between his thighs—slow, deliberate, utterly shameless. Auau’s shirt clung to his frame, slipping off one shoulder, baring the smooth line of his neck, collarbone flushed pink.

“You’re late,” Save said, voice light, casual, like he wasn’t currently moaning softly through his teeth while stretching himself open. “Took your time getting home.”

“W–what are you doing?” Auau croaked, voice barely above a whisper.

Save finally looked at him, smug and bratty and so unfairly pretty it made Auau’s knees weak.

“Prepping,” he said simply, eyes lidded. “Since someone was too busy flirting with his fans to come home and fuck me.”

Auau’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t flirting—”

“You were smiling at their comments,” Save murmured, fingers dipping deeper, breath catching. “Bet none of them could take you like I do.”

That did it.

Auau was across the room in seconds, practically dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed. “Baby—Save—fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

Save just smirked, lips parted, cheeks flushed, movements unrelenting. “You gonna beg, rockstar?” he purred. “Or are you just gonna watch while I fuck myself open for you?”

Auau groaned, hands gripping the sheets, eyes locked on where those delicate fingers disappeared into tight heat. “I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

Save licked his lips, slow and wicked. “That’s the point.”

Auau was on the edge of the bed, fists clenched at his sides, looking like he was being tortured. Because Save—beautiful, evil, smug Save—was in his lap.

In lace.

Straddling him.

Grinding slowly.

Panties sheer and crooked, a strap sliding down his thigh like a promise, Auau’s oversized band tee slipping off his shoulder, showing too much skin and not nearly enough. And Save? Save looked bored.

“Is this what you wanted?” he drawled, hips rolling just enough to make Auau gasp. “Me begging for your attention?”

“You’re killing me,” Auau groaned, voice hoarse, jaw tight. “Let me touch you—just—please.”

But Save tutted, hands pressed flat against Auau’s chest, keeping him pinned.

“No touching,” he said sweetly. “You ignored me for days. This is punishment. ”

Auau whined.

Whined.

Eyes glassy, hips twitching upward uselessly as Save rutted against him, slow and cruel, dragging it out on purpose. The lace strained. His thighs flexed. And he moaned— loud —just to see Auau break.

“You like watching, don’t you?” he panted, tossing his head back, riding the friction of their clothes like a menace. “Bet all those fans of yours would die to see me like this.”

“Fuck—Save—”

“But they don’t get to,” he whispered, leaning down close, lips ghosting over Auau’s mouth. “Only you get to watch me fall apart.”

He rolled his hips again, harder now, a little shaky—his own breath catching—but he still wouldn’t kiss him. Wouldn’t let Auau touch. Just dragged it out, moaning into his ear like a sin.

Auau was sweating.

Throbbing in his jeans.

One move from coming undone, and Save knew it.

He licked the shell of Auau’s ear and said, low:

“Beg for it. Or I’ll come like this and leave you hard all night.”

His thighs were spread wide, one leg bent up, the other lazily kicking where his lace panties dangled uselessly off one ankle. Auau’s shirt hung off his frame, barely buttoned, collar wide and slouched like it wanted to slide off his shoulder. His lips were swollen. His fingers were slick.

And he was prepping himself.

In front of Auau.

“Don’t move,” Save warned, voice a velvet blade as he arched his back just enough for his fingers to slide in deeper. “You move one step, and I stop.”

Auau was frozen.

Sitting in the chair across from the bed, fully clothed, hands white-knuckled on the armrest. Every muscle in his body screamed to move. To touch. To do something.

But Save’s eyes flicked to him—half-lidded, wicked—and he said:

“Sit.”

So he did.

And watched.

Watched Save moan, breath catching as his fingers curled inside himself. Watched the shirt shift to reveal the curve of his spine, his stomach twitching, his thighs trembling slightly. He was flushed and panting but still in control. Still bratty.

“You wanted attention,” Save whispered, hips tilting forward into his own touch. “You kept whining, acting out. This is your reward.”

Auau’s throat worked. “This is torture— ”

“Then behave,” Save snapped, glaring through his own haze of lust. “You act like a puppy? I’ll treat you like one. Sit. Stay.”

“ Fuck, ” Auau whispered, voice cracking.

Save moaned, long and slow and high, as he added a third finger. He was close. Right on the edge, trembling—but when Auau leaned forward instinctively, Save’s eyes flashed.

“Ah—ah. Stay right there.”

“Save—please—”

“You’ll get to touch,” Save panted, curling his fingers just right. “When I say you can.”

And when Save came with a cry, legs shaking, back arched, hand sticky and thighs glistening—Auau was still in that chair.

Destroyed.

Desperate.

Obedient.

Chapter Text

The car was dark. Quiet. The air was heavy with everything they hadn’t said and everything they had just done.

Hia was breathing hard, lips swollen, needy—but not really.

“Real.” His voice was low, trembling at the edge of fury and want. “I told you to wait.”

Real was sitting back in the driver’s seat like nothing was wrong, but his own lips were red, spit-slick and slightly parted, and the way his chest rose and fell betrayed the calm he was faking.

“You said that,” Real murmured, his voice a little breathless. “But you were asking for it.”

Hia’s jaw clenched. His whole body was on fire. He could still feel Real’s tongue in his mouth, the rough scrape of teeth, that hand that had cupped his jaw and stolen every protest he had.

“I’m not doing this now,” Hia snapped.

“Too late,” Real said, voice rough with the aftertaste of that kiss. “We already did.”

Hia turned to glare, but the second his eyes landed on Real—his blown pupils, the smirk just barely curving at the edge of his lips—he broke.

He lunged.

Real barely had time to react before Hia was climbing over the console, grabbing his collar with both hands and dragging him back in. Their lips crashed again, teeth clacking, heat sparking.

“God, you’re such a—” Hia hissed between kisses, his breath hot against Real’s mouth, “—asshole.”

“Then stop kissing me like that,” Real rasped, his hands sliding fast—one gripping Hia’s waist, the other finding the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. His fingers curled tight in Hia’s hair, forcing his head to tilt, and then he was devouring him.

Hia moaned—sharp, breathy, almost like a curse—because Real kissed like he wanted to own him. Like he didn’t care about time or space or the fact that they were in a damn car.

Their mouths moved in sync, hot and messy, tongues sliding, teeth biting, lips parting just enough to steal oxygen in between.

Real’s hand on his neck tightened, fingers curling around the base of his skull. “I should’ve waited,” he breathed, forehead pressed to Hia’s. “But you make it impossible.”

Hia’s lashes fluttered, and his thighs clenched around Real’s hips. “Don’t blame me when you’re the one who can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“You climbed over the console.”

“I’m fixing your mistake.”

Real grinned, eyes flickering over Hia’s lips—kiss-bruised, trembling, red. He leaned in, kissed him again—softer this time. Reverent.

“I’d make that mistake again.”

Hia was still perched in Real’s lap, lips kiss-bitten and chest rising like he was fighting for air. His thighs tightened around Real’s hips, grinding down just enough to make the other man hiss.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Real warned, voice low and fraying at the edges, his hands still anchored at Hia’s waist like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Hia smirked . Lazy. Dangerous.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, dragging a finger down Real’s cheek before curling it under his chin, tilting his head up,

His hand trailed lower—slow, taunting, fingertips brushing the curve of Real’s neck, sliding over the soft cotton stretched across his chest. Real’s breath stuttered, muscles clenching beneath Hia’s touch, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t —not with Hia straddling him like that, looking down at him like he was a game he was ready to ruin.

Hia’s nails scraped just barely over one of Real’s nipples through the shirt and the man jerked .

“Sensitive?” Hia asked sweetly, batting his lashes. “You act so tough, Real…”

His hand kept going—lower, lower , slipping past the hem of Real’s shirt, fingers gliding against bare skin, brushing the dip between abs. Real’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaw tight, head falling back against the headrest.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, voice ragged.

“You like it,” Hia whispered, leaning in to kiss along Real’s jaw, “You’re so easy for me.”

And it was true . Real’s whole body was betraying him—tensed under Hia’s touch but desperate for more, hips already twitching up to meet the pressure of Hia’s hand inching ever closer.

“Fuck, Hia—” he groaned as the younger boy’s palm settled , right over his pants. No pressure yet, just the promise of it. Just heat .

“You kissed me like you owned me,” Hia said, mouth hot on Real’s ear, breath making him shiver. “But I can break you apart with just one hand, can’t I?”

Real groaned , hips bucking up without meaning to.

Hia grinned

Real’s hands, shaking with restraint, finally snapped . Enough of this teasing. Enough of Hia’s smug little smirks, of the way he rolled his hips like he wasn’t ruining Real on purpose.

“Don’t think I won’t bite,” Real murmured grabbing Hia’s chest through his shirt—palming it like it belonged to him, fingers rough and unrelenting. Hia gasped , back arching, the sound slipping from his lips like a sin.

“Real—!”

“Oh, now you wanna act shy?” Real’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he pulled Hia closer, forcing him flush against his chest. “You wanna sit there, grind down on me like you own me, and then act like you didn’t beg for this?”

Hia tried to answer but his voice cracked , knees trembling on either side of Real’s hips. He could feel every twitch of Real’s muscles beneath him, every tremor of control slipping. It was intoxicating.

“You’re such a brat,” Real muttered, biting at the underside of Hia’s jaw—just enough to leave a mark, not enough to hurt. His hands moved fast, one slipping up under Hia’s shirt, dragging it away from his body carefully not to break any buttons. The shirt got caught around Hia’s arms for a second and Real didn’t wait—he pushed it higher, trapping Hia’s wrists above his head, holding them there against the fogged-up car window.

“You look so good like this,” Real whispered, mouth ghosting over Hia’s chest now, tongue flicking teasingly across a nipple before sucking down hard. Hia whined , hips jerking, his hands straining against the bunched fabric around his wrists.

“Real— fuck —”

“That’s it,” Real said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “You wanna play games? You wanna tease and act like I won’t ruin you in the front seat of this car?”

Hia moaned , legs trembling, eyes rolling back as Real’s hands moved lower—one trailing along his spine, the other palming him between his legs, pressing hard through his pants. He bucked up instinctively, crying out when Real bit his chest again, then licked over the red mark.

“God,” Real panted against his skin, “you feel so good—so fucking perfect— mine .”

And Hia, breathless and feral , could only nod, mouth slack as he gasped, “Yours—yours—yours—”

They barely made it to the backseat.

Hia had tried to scramble out of Real’s lap, flushed and dizzy, but Real just hummed —low, feral—and grabbed him by the waist to drag him over the console like it was nothing. He tossed him into the back with all the reverence of a man too far gone to pretend he still had control.

“You think you can tease me,” Real muttered, following him in, “and not deal with the consequences?”

Hia opened his mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to beg—but it was too late.

Real’s shirt was gone. His jacket, too. Muscles taut and flushed, his hair a mess, his eyes dark and locked on Hia like a predator.

Then— the silk .

“Wait—what’s that?” Hia asked, breath catching as Real pulled a long, deep-red strip of silk from his back pocket. Smooth. Shimmering. Dangerous.

“Insurance,” Real said, voice rough and hot. “You don’t know how to behave.”

“I—” Hia squeaked as Real grabbed his wrists and pulled them up over his head, the silk sliding around them before Hia could process. It was soft . Gentle. But the way Real tied it—firm, practiced—sent a shiver through him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Real murmured, kissing each of Hia’s knuckles. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

Hia nodded, throat dry. “Yes.”

“Words, baby.”

“Yes, Real,” he whispered, trembling. His hands move to tie the ribbon himself

Real smiled, a little crooked. A little unhinged . “Good.”

And then he pushed him down .