"Yangyang..."

Yangyang has heard it, several times—in his dreams, mostly, daydreams too. Creeping into his every thought, crawling over his skin like the shadows of the night. Yangyang has heard it once in real life—replayed too many times in his head, until it all felt unreal.

And it feels unreal, the second time as well. The need laced thick in Dejun's voice, tickling against Yangyang's lips in a breathy whisper. Dejun's back against the wall, Yangyang is pressed against him, as coats and shoes are left in a mess on the floor, thrown away by eager but shaking hands.

Dejun's skin is soft, smooth against Yangyang's fingers stroking against it. Dejun's fingers—lost in Yangyang's hair, pulling it gently with every anxious touch Yangyang leaves behind. Everything is a blur, like looking through a kaleidoscope—colors and sounds, Dejun's scent. It's overwhelming and all-consuming, just like everything about Dejun always has been.

Yangyang swallows, hands sneaking along the back of Dejun's neck, their lips dancing in front of each other to the beat of Yangyang's racing heart.

"Ah, f-fuck..." A shallow whisper, hot breath gets stuck in Yangyang's throat when he feels Dejun's thigh pressing against him—against the obvious bulge in his pants. Yangyang swallows again, almost in pain.

The taxi ride home had seemed endless, Yangyang followed the lampposts outside the car with his eyes. Stared at them while biting into his bottom lip until it hurt—until he was certain everything was in fact real. In the darkness on the backseat of the taxi, Dejun's hand snaked around Yangyang's thigh, higher and higher, squeezing in all the right places, making sure Yangyang wouldn't get a moment of peace. Or his poor cock for that matter. Watching Dejun walk up the stairs to the fifth floor, jacket pulled off and carried in his arms, didn't make things easier when he had to wear those fucking tight, leather pants.

"You look so good..." Dejun's words roll straight from his tongue and onto Yangyang's, an open-mouth kiss, as Dejun dives deeper, like he is desperate to swallow every ragged moan coming from Yangyang's throat.

"I-I'm wearing your clothes," Yangyang replies without thinking—but if he had, even he would've thought he was a dumbass.

"Just... Shut up," Dejun laughs, untucking the shirt from Yangyang's pants, before kissing him again.

God, Dejun is such a good kisser, Yangyang almost forget just how good he is. Just the right amount of tongue, the sweet sounds he makes that has Yangyang's head spinning, his soft lips—fuck, those lips fit so perfectly, like they were molded just to match with Yangyang's.

A gentle hand against Yangyang's chest pushes him away, but not far enough for him to lose his grip around Dejun. He never will. Now that he finally has him, Yangyang will fight the entire world to keep him.

The warm glow from the lights in the entryway falls perfectly against Dejun's skin, trails down his cheekbones and over his glossy lips—lips that slowly curl into a smirk, and Yangyang stares at them until Dejun suddenly grabs him by the wrist and leads him further into the apartment. Dejun kisses him again, gently, tongue stroking along Yangyang's bottom lip.

"Sit down," Dejun whispers, and Yangyang does so—practically falling into the large armchair standing behind him.

It is the living room he has been in so many times before, eating, napping on the couch, rushing through not to get caught staring at Dejun whenever he did his yoga in his insanely short t-shirts. But now it feels so foreign, like a dreamland he stumbled into by mistake. Or maybe, by pure luck?

"Yangyang..." And Dejun is a real-life fairy prince. Ethereal and so perfect—his dark hair has become a mess, falling in untamed waves down his face. The glitter in his hair has drizzled down over his chest, catching the light—making him look even more ravishing.

Warmth spreads like wildfire through Yangyang's body, when Dejun moves to stand between his thighs. Another smirk, dainty fingers stroke down glistening skin—Dejun slowly unbuttons the few remaining buttons of his shirt, letting the dark fabric slide down his shoulders until it is caught at his elbows.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Then, effortlessly, he slides onto Yangyang's lap, straddles him and holds him down pressed into the armchair. Yangyang almost chokes on a heavy gasp, his nails dig into the armrest on each side. Deeper and deeper, just like Dejun's eyes burn into his. Burning, burning, burning—all of him.

And Yangyang would gladly let Dejun do that. Burn him until there is nothing left but the flames already licking his skin—until both of them are set ablaze, and they'll burn together, like two lonesome stars colliding in an empty space.

When their lips meet again, Yangyang feels his courage grow. His hands lets go off the chair, to let his fingers curl around Dejun's waist instead, where warm skin greets his gentle touch. Dejun hums into the kiss, Yangyang parts his lips for him. As the kiss deepens, Dejun moves even closer, grinding slowly into Yangyang's lap.

"A-ah, D-Dejun..." Yangyang chokes, head thrown back—pressed into the backrest. It is hard to breathe, even harder to swallow, his heart is racing so fast it almost hurts. "Fuck..." Dejun simply chuckles—a painfully slow grind against Yangyang, while his hands sneak around the back of Yangyang's neck.

"What do you want, Yangyang?" The playful whisper tickles against Yangyang's ear.

Dejun has asked him that before—but this time Yangyang isn't going to mess it up.

"You," he replies with no hesitation. "I want you."

He pulls Dejun into a messy kiss, nibbles at Dejun's bottom lip before sliding his tongue over it. Dejun moans into the kiss, when Yangyang bucks his hips and matches the grinding motion that has pushed him to the very edge of sanity. He refuses to fall down alone. His hands might feel clammy, but Yangyang doesn't care anymore. The grip around Dejun's waist loosens, one finger at a time, and Yangyang finally lets his hands slide down to feel Dejun's ass. One small squeeze and Dejun moans heavily into the kiss, pressing himself harder against Yangyang. If Yangyang hadn't already seen it, hidden behind the black leather pants, he definitely feels it now. Dejun is as hard as he is.

"You're just... So..." Yangyang fumbles with the words, his tongue twisting even when Dejun's isn't wrapped around it, and every breath is burning into his lungs. "Just so..."

Another squeeze, harder this time, Dejun tugs at Yangyang's hair, as the sweetest sound falls from his lips. Yangyang inhales deeply. Once. Twice. Eyes closed he dives in—his lips draw wet lines down Dejun's neck, sucking gently against the soft skin. A small peek with one eye, Yangyang catches a glimpse of one of the things he has dreamt the most of. Dejun's chest, and the pretty nipples Yangyang has touched himself while imagining how it would feel to swirl his tongue around.

And so he does. No hesitation. His tongue sweeps over the small bud, lips closing around it. Dejun tenses up, his thighs pressing harder against Yangyang, his fingers curling around the roots of Yangyang's hair. It urges Yangyang to keep going.

"You're just so... So amazing..." Yangyang finally finishes his sentence, his tongue still swirling around Dejun's left nipple, as he looks up.

Dejun's eyes are half-closed, cheeks flushed and small whimpers escape from his parted lips.

"Ya-Yangyang..." he whispers with a ragged breath—and Yangyang could've finished with that alone. Could have cum in his pants without Dejun even touching him, just listening to the sounds Dejun makes. Dripping with desperation and lust, his voice is smooth and thick like honey smeared all over Yangyang's body. "Please... More..."

Of course Yangyang gives him more, there's nothing in the world he'd rather do. Switching to the other side, Yangyang teasingly licks Dejun's right nipple. An impatient tug in his hair makes him grin against Dejun's chest. A longer lick this time, circling around it, lips slowly following. Dejun is even more sensitive than Yangyang has ever imagined. Every lick earns Yangyang another moan, and Dejun grinds against him harder each time.

Yangyang has lost the last bit of his sanity. His shirt falls to the floor not long after, then, the sound of his belt being pulled off. The warmth of Dejun disappears too—but not too far. Yangyang groans, as hands slide down his thighs—as Dejun slides down onto the floor. Another groan, painfully caught inside his mouth, Dejun palms the bulge in Yangyang's pants.

Everything spins around him, merging together. His pants are pulled off, fingertips are circling up his legs. Yangyang's breathing has become uncontrollable, his chest rising and falling in rapid pace.

Then. The world stands still.

There is no one, no sounds.

Nothing.

Until he looks down, and everything comes crashing down over him. It's the waves clashing in the deep ocean with no shore. It's the fire burning his skin. It is the world crumbling around him. It is Dejun's wet lips slowly sucking down his cock. His dark eyes catch Yangyang's stare—holds it, like Dejun holds Yangyang's hard dick in his hand while sucking at the tip.

"It's my first time doing this," Dejun says, licking at the shaft while squeezing at the root. His voice turns sugary-sweet and Yangyang's head is about to explode. Both heads, actually. "So please be gentle."

"Oh my God..." As every muscle in his body tenses up, Yangyang can only manage to whisper, barely even audible against the absolute sinful sounds of Dejun sucking him off.

Xiao Dejun is good at everything—point proven. His first time? Yangyang will have to laugh at that later. Dejun's tongue is doing things Yangyang never could have imagined, while his lips are closed securely around Yangyang's length, warm and wet, slowly sliding up and down.

"You're so... Good!" Yangyang bucks his hips at the last word, pushing further into the warmth of Dejun's mouth, making him gag. "Oh, shit! I-I'm sorry!"

"Liu Yangyang." A shake of his head, Dejun laughs to Yangyang's relief. "Told you to be gentle, didn't I?"

"Yes, I-I'm sorry..."

Slow strokes, Dejun makes sure to smear his saliva all over Yangyang's cock still rock-hard in his hand. The sight of it almost makes Yangyang cum. Dejun, down on his knees for him, like he has dreamt of so many times, looking up with those dark eyes that could swallow Yangyang whole.

The slow strokes turn faster, but Dejun's eyes never look away. His lips find their way back to Yangyang's cock, tongue swirling around the shaft as he sucks down around it. Still, he doesn't look away.

"D-Dejun..." Fingers digging into the armrests again, toes curling up against the cold floor.

And then Dejun moans around Yangyang's cock, like the little devil he is. Yangyang can feel the smirk around his length, feel the chuckle sitting in Dejun's throat. He moans again, like a fucking pornstar. Yangyang is gasping for air, panting helplessly while sinking further into the soft cushions of the chair. One shaking hand finds its way to Dejun's hair, fingers tangling up in it right away, and Dejun sucks even harder.

"Dejun!" One last, deep groan, skin tickling all over—an explosion in front of Yangyang's eyes. One big mass of colors. He finishes in hard, long pumps into Dejun's mouth—dripping from his lips. Shit, Yangyang's poor cock twitches at the sight. Those pretty eyes looking up at him, shining like the stars at night, while white cum is sliding down his chin.

Dejun swallows, staring into Yangyang's eyes while doing so. What a fucking menace.

"Not as salty as I had imagined," he then says, calmly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—slowly licking the rest of Yangyang's cum off of his fingers.

"You..." Yangyang exhales, every breath burning in his lungs. His mouth is dry, throat as well, as he heaves for air.

"So?" A brow cocked, Dejun slides his hands up Yangyang's thighs. "Your bed or mine?"

"I- Shit... I-I..." But Yangyang can't even form a coherent sentence, can't even put the right words together in his head.

The armchair seems to have swallowed him, as he just half-way lies down, arms and legs hanging limp—like his cock against his stomach. Throbbing, still, sticking and wet. It's been so long since he last came, so long he can't even remember when the last time was.

A squeeze around his thighs, and a gasp caught by Dejun's lips. In a swift move Dejun has crawled back on top, kissing Yangyang like he holds the last air left in the world. The kiss is messy, desperate, with a salty taste of Yangyang's own cum.

"Don't you want it, Yangyang?" Dejun asks with that beautiful voice of his. "Don't you want me to fuck you, until you can't even remember your own name?"

Wait...

Yangyang has to pull his head back, to stare at Dejun while a frown grows on his face.

"W-what? W-wait a minute," he says, hand pressed against Dejun's chest. "What do you mean, you'll-"

"What?" Dejun chuckles. "Wait. Do you think that you..."

Dejun looks surprised, too surprised. Yeah, sure, Yangyang doesn't have a lot of sexual experience in the bag, but—

"Dude."

"Don't dude me, I just swallowed your cum!" Dejun scoffs, a frown matching Yangyang's shows over the sharp features of his face.

"Yes, exactly?"

"So because of that, you think that you're going to...?"

"Well, I..." A hard swallow, a stubborn lump seems to be stuck in Yangyang's throat, as confusion storms through his head. "I mean... No, not because of that, I'm sorry... I just..."

This wouldn't be the first time Yangyang messes things up with Dejun, and when Dejun suddenly slides off of him, to stand up again, Yangyang's head drops and he pulls at the bottom of his shirt to cover his lower body up. Regret has never had such a bitter taste.

"You better make it good then," Dejun then says, and Yangyang looks up in surprise.

One deep breath, Yangyang slowly gets up on his shaking legs.

"I will."

Dejun's smile is the last thing Yangyang sees before every other sense takes over. Soft lips pressed against his own, his tongue soon caught up in a tight dance with Dejun's, while warm hands run across his skin. Everything stays like this, as they make their way towards Dejun's bedroom.

The small creak of the door, Dejun pushes it open, without breaking the kiss. It is happening. It's really happening. Yangyang feels himself getting hard again just by the thoughts of what is about to happen. Dejun unzips the leather pants, the sound of it resonates in Yangyang's ears.

But then, there is another sound. An unwelcoming sound.

The sound of the doorbell.

Dejun pulls away first, looks at Yangyang like he should have an answer ready for him. A small tilt of his head, his dark hair following the movement. Yangyang will forever think Dejun looks adorable when confused—even with his pants unzipped and one hand stroking Yangyang's hardening cock.

"Who..." Dejun questions, but his voice is drowned by another sound of the doorbell. "Just wait here..." he then says, followed by some unsatisfied grunting as he zips his tight pants again.

Yangyang waits, awkwardly for a few seconds, until he hears Dejun opening the apartment door and voices blend in the entryway. Then, Yangyang storms into the living room again and stumbles around while trying to get his clothes back on. He recognizes the other voice.

"I've fucked up, Junjun, I've ruined everything... I'm such an idiot! And on our first Christmas together alone..."

The last few buttons of the shirt fight against Yangyang's fingers, he soon gives up and attempts to fix the mess of his hair instead.

"I'm really sorry for just showing up, I tried calling you but-" Around the corner comes Hendery, weekend bag slung over his shoulder. He sniffs a few times, while his hand dries the corner of his eyes.

"No, don't worry about it," Dejun replies, his arm hooked around Hendery's as they walk into the living room. "We just came back from a party at a club."

There is only a brief glance shooting Yangyang's way, Dejun leads Hendery to the couch, and Yangyang watches completely frozen in his spot on the middle of the floor. Hendery slowly nods at Dejun's words, while looking back and forth between Yangyang and Dejun.

"Must have been a crazy night," he then says with a small laugh, and Yangyang knows both of them look a complete mess. Dejun has put his shirt back on though, buttoned all the way up for once.

But suddenly Yangyang realizes how Hendery looks a mess too—puffy eyes and a red nose. The tears glistening in his big eyes. The small trembling of his shoulders...

Uncertain what to do, Yangyang settles on possibly the most awkward thing he could. Slowly he sits down, in the goddamn same armchair Dejun just sucked him off only minutes ago. The fabric suddenly feels rough against his fingers, and the air thick in his lungs. He listens in silence, while Dejun and Hendery talk. Hendery and Karina's first Christmas alone together went up in flames, when Hendery said something dumb about the flowers she had spent months picking out for the wedding. It was meant as a joke, but it was unnecessary and childish—Karina had said so. A joke turning into a fight, a fight turning into Hendery now crying on Dejun's couch at 3AM.

He apologizes, more times than he has to—Yangyang sends him small nods, whenever their eyes catch each other.

"Of course you can stay here tonight," Dejun's voice is so soft, like silk flowing in the summer wind. "Or as long as you want to. You know that, Dery." His fingers stroke a lock of Hendery's long hair away, tucks it behind his ear. A gentle smile, Dejun's eyes are filled with so much care.

"I know... Thank you... I... I'll just go wash my face..." Hendery says with a forced smile—Yangyang would never have imagined Hendery having to ever force a smile.

The silence that lays down over the living room, when the door to the bathroom closes, is heavy. Suffocating. Yangyang slides his feet against the floor.

"Well, I- I should probably... I'm pretty beat, so-" he mumbles, about to get up.

"Yangyang..." Dejun says, but his voice is strangely weak. "I... I'm sorry."

"No, I'm... It's cool." Just a small shrug of his shoulders, Yangyang wants to pretend everything really is cool. Even when it really, really isn't.

"It's not that, it's just that..."

The sound of the bathroom door seems to startle them both. Footsteps against the floor, Hendery has returned. He sits down next to Dejun again, tears already filling up his eyes again.

"I just... I love her so much," he whimpers before breaking down completely in Dejun's arms.

"I know..." Dejun whispers, swallowing slowly. Like it hurts. Like he doesn't want to say it at all. "I know you do..."

Yangyang stares at them. Stares at Hendery's head pressed against Dejun's chest—at Dejun gently stroking the long wavy hair. Shivers stream down Yangyang's back, but he doesn't know why. Doesn't know why his heart aches in his chest. Until Dejun looks at him.

And suddenly everything makes sense.

Suddenly everything hurts.

When Dejun's eyes withdraw from him again, when all their attention focuses on Hendery, like he is the only person in the world—it actually physically hurts. It's the way Dejun's entire expression softens, how his eyes glisten as they follow every little move Hendery makes. How he whispers assuring words, in the softest voice Yangyang has ever heard.

It all makes sense, it all makes sense...

How was Yangyang too blind to see it?

The photos shoved into Dejun's drawer, the way he looked like his heart was ripped apart every time Hendery held Karina's hand. And the dress? An excuse to stay close, while the fear of losing Hendery entirely drew closer and closer, even if it doesn't make sense to others, it does to Yangyang.

Dejun will never say it out loud. Neither will Yangyang. He doesn't dare to, doesn't even want to think it—but it is too late.

Yangyang might have had Dejun tonight, some of him—but he will never have all of him. Tonight meant more to Yangyang than he'll ever admit, and way more than it did to Dejun. Dejun, the one Yangyang dreams of in more ways than having him in bed—Yangyang wants him for the rest of his life. Yangyang, just an easy way for Dejun to forget the loneliness on Christmas Eve. An evanescent pleasure never meant to last.

Yangyang had felt ready to fight the entire world to keep Dejun, only for him to now realize he'd only have to fight one man.

But how will he ever win, when that man is the one Dejun looks at, with the same look Yangyang looks at Dejun.

'You're in love with him...'