Work Text:
Pulmonary fibrosis leaves little else to do; Changkyun chooses to spend his time reading cliché, and yet interesting romance novels.
He’s learnt to read between the lines, you see. Amongst the flurry of romance novels, amongst the paragraphs of heavily-perfumed words, amongst the lines of flowery quotes, the sea of romantic proposals, Changkyun gets the point.
Fast. Lightning fast. The pair makes eye contact and they’re instantly in love, as if entranced by a magic spell. And then later, in the privacy of their bedroom, they make love — aggressive, consuming, like they are being burned by the flames of passion. He gets it: love is fast.
And then he meets Hyungwon.
Same birthplace as him — Gwangju. Just two years older. A pianist, occasionally; more often a college student struggling with insomnia. Hair dyed pale blond, eyes filled with molten caramel. Immaculate fashion. Legs that go on for days.
And Hyungwon, he finds, is slow.
Hyungwon is relaxed; the way his smile can melt even the most stressed of people. The way he tilts his head back when he laughs, bright. Changkyun stares and stares at him like he is some fascinating science exhibition, and the longer he stares the more secrets he uncovers.
It’s a bit like flowers. Hyungwon is the delicate bud in the centre, and Changkyun unravels the rose, petal by petal. As each one falls, he slowly sees the core.
Yes, in a world where love is pictured as an all-consuming flame, Changkyun finds that theirs is like a delicate rose.
Careful. Caring. Slow.
——
His oxygen tank trails behind him like always. Sometimes, children stare, and though he is supposed to get used to it, he hasn’t. Changkyun ducks his head, tries his best to ignore everyone but Hyungwon, and pulls the cart with his tank along.
There is no lift. The museum is old, and no new refurbishments have been added. He gulps as he sees the twisting stairs; so many steps. He prepares his lungs for the burn — though it’s not like there’s anything he can do about that.
Changkyun fiddles with his cannula, tucking it tighter behind his ear. Hyungwon smiles at him, reaches out a hand, and if he notices Changkyun’s nervousness he does not comment.
They ascend the steps. Each step they rise, the more Changkyun’s lungs feel as if they’re being scorched by hot flames.
Oh god. Oh god, oh god—
“Let’s stop here for a sec,” Hyungwon says, smiling, “I wanna take some pictures.”
Hyungwon never takes pictures. What on earth—
Oh.
Oh.
Where Changkyun’s other partners have asked him if he’s alright with worried expressions, Hyungwon stops and pretends to take photographs of dusty artifacts. Where his past lovers had offered to descend the steps and go home, Hyungwon smiles, extends his hand again, and says, ever so gently, “should we continue?”
And though Changkyun’s lungs burn, he smiles. A petal has fallen — he’s closer to the bud.
He takes Hyungwon’s hand.
——
Hyungwon’s flat is nice.
They’re on the seventh floor of the apartment. It’s late, so the only light comes from the bulbs that hang above the kitchen counter. Hyungwon flicks a switch; the space gets brighter as the living room lights turn on.
“Make yourself at home,” Hyungwon says. “Roommate’s probably off to the club or something.”
Oh. Hyungwon’s flat is also void of people.
They watch Titanic . The movie is three hours long, and Changkyun finds himself comfortably nestled to Hyungwon’s side. Sometimes, his cannula tangles with one of their arms, and when this happens Hyungwon giggles as he helps Changkyun untangle it.
It’s so awfully domestic.
The movie is just about over. Hyungwon’s roommate hasn’t returned. Changkyun begins to wonder if this is a set up. If Hyungwon told his roommate prior that he’d have someone over. That he is not to return, because Hyungwon doesn’t want to be disturb while he — while they—
Oh god. He gulps.
Is this why he was invited over? So that they have the flat to themselves, in the hopes of later taking Changkyun to bed?
Oh god.
He knows it’s what partners do, setting up. His ex did it before, and it ended before it even started. Changkyun wasn’t able to keep up, even with just kissing — his cannula kept on dislodging, and he kept running out of breath and his partner wasn’t the most patient and—
“I-I have to use the bathroom,” he says, getting up suddenly.
“Oh?” Hyungwon looks at him worriedly, “it’s the second door in the hallway. You alright?”
Changkyun nods. He walks to the bathroom, locks himself in, and stares at his own reflection in the mirror.
Pathetic. Get yourself together.
*
He goes out of the bathroom, not feeling much better. Hyungwon is still on the couch, a concerned expression plastered onto his face. He gets up, reaches for Changkyun.
Changkyun flinches — the tiniest of motions, and yet Hyungwon notices. A petal falls. Hyungwon keeps his distance, stance relaxed, hesitant smile on.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Hyungwon calls, and Changkyun’s heart glows with the nickname. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”
He thinks about it. Has Hyungwon made him uncomfortable? The thought of sex makes him uncomfortable, not Hyungwon exactly. He shakes his head. Hyungwon’s expression relaxes into one of relief.
“You’re nervous, though,” Hyungwon says, moving closer to him. This time, Changkyun doesn’t flinch, for whatever reason. “Tell me why you’re nervous.”
Hyungwon is here. They hug in front of the television, where the long credits to Titanic are still rolling across a black screen. The slow music that accompanies the credits calms him down. Changkyun buries his head into Hyungwon’s chest; their heights perfect to do so.
A hand idly ruffles the hair just above the back of his neck. The press of the cannula against the bottom of his nose is getting uncomfortable, but that is annulled by the absolute warmth of Hyungwon’s embrace. Lithe arms encircle him, a chin settles above his head.
“I-I... you—“
He feels his cheeks heat. What is he, a schoolboy, stuttering like he’s just been asked out by the hot and popular girl in school? Mortifying.
Hyungwon hums, urging him to continue. The ruffles have turned to gentle pets on the back of his neck. Changkyun shivers.
“I’m— I can’t.”
“Hmm? Can’t what?”
“I can’t have sex... With you... Yet.”
His face is flaming, by then. The tips of his ears feel warm as well. Changkyun braces for himself to be pushed away. For a laugh. For him to be called a prude. For anything.
But Hyungwon is silent.
The credits have ended. The flat is quiet, save for the low hissing of Changkyun’s oxygen. Hyungwon’s petting has ceased. Changkyun’s heart falls, and he’s about to move to untangle himself from the stale hug when the arm around his shoulder tightens its grip.
Changkyun looks up.
Hyungwon’s brows are furrowed. He’s staring at a non-distinct spot behind Changkyun, and he almost thinks that Hyungwon is angry at him, but then his partner speaks.
“Give me permission to whack your ex, please.”
A simple sentence, and another petal falls.
Changkyun’s wide smile is pressed against Hyungwon’s chest. He tries to suppress it, but a laugh forces its way past his lips — soft, small.
They kiss. A brief brush of lips; feather light.
They sleep next to each other. Changkyun switches out his cannula for his oxygen mask. Though it obstructs half his face, Hyungwon still looks at him as if he’s dazed — as if he’s entranced with a magic spell.
Changkyun thinks he’s starting to get the romance novels, because he’s pretty sure he’s got a similar expression on.
—-
They’re kissing. Slow — a brush of tongues every so often. A gasp here, a groan there. Changkyun pulls up for air, panting, a hand on his chest. When he looks up, he finds Hyungwon flushed, the apples of his cheeks pink, smiling a dopey grin.
“Okay?”
“More than.”
They continue. Hyungwon’s long fingers are caressing his sides over his t-shirt. As he brushes against Changkyun’s waist, he squirms, much to Hyungwon’s delight, evident from the mischievous grin on his face.
“T-ticklish.”
“Mm.”
And then those same hands descend even lower. They lift the hem of his shirt up, and then cold fingertips settle against his bare skin. Changkyun jolts, breaks their kiss, pants while adjusting his cannula.
“ Haa —“ he pants, “hyung—“
Hyungwon hums inquiringly.
“F-feels good.”
A satisfied smile is pressed against his lips. Changkyun groans into another kiss. His fingertips roam the front of Hyungwon’s chest, searching for skin, and they finally find the hem of Hyungwon’s shirt. He’s about to lift it, when Hyungwon pulls back, looks at him with a heated gaze, and pulls off his shirt with one swift tug.
Oh god. Changkyun’s about to lose his breath, for reasons very unrelated to his pulmonary fibrosis.
The first touch of his fingers against Hyungwon’s flushed skin sends a thrill through his spine. A groan sounds from his lover’s mouth.
“You’re amazing,” Hyungwon says.
“You’re r-ridiculous,” Changkyun replies.
It continues, the exploratory fingers, the hesitant caresses — Changkyun is drunk with it, the pleasure. His hands shift to Hyungwon’s clothed thigh, and as his lover’s hips jerk forward, Changkyun feels it — Hyungwon’s want for him.
God — Hyungwon is hard. For him .
Hyungwon’s hands move, lower, lower, past his waistband, a light brush of his fingertips against the bulge tenting his sweatpants, and Changkyun gasps. Hyungwon’s palm presses against his cock, a slight pressure, and Changkyun’s hips buck up into the touch, another gasp escaping his mouth.
His hands resume their quest for skin; they slide down Hyungwon’s side, which rises shivers in their path, and they move lower, lower, to the insistent hardness between his lover’s long, long legs. He delicately cups Hyungwon in his palms, and that earns him a deep moan. Changkyun flushes, the sound reverberating in his eardrums.
“G-good?”
“God, never better.”
It’s far from over. Hyungwon hooks his finger onto Changkyun’s waistband, looking up at him with one eyebrow arched. Changkyun nods, face warm. His sweatpants and boxers are gone in an instant. He crosses his legs, shy, vulnerable, feeling like his body is on display under bright surgical lamps or something.
Hyungwon looks at him. Smiles. Takes off his own bottoms. Changkyun is still wearing his shirt, and Hyungwon is left completely naked. Suddenly, a burst of courage fills him.
A petal falls.
Hyungwon kisses him again, still the slow, heady kiss. One that makes him feel as though he’s underwater, almost drowning from the intensity. He feels slow fingers on the tops of his thigh. His legs uncross themselves, slowly, and as Hyungwon’s hands caress the inside of his thigh, he moans into their kiss.
God, how is still able to breathe? His hands instinctively move towards his ears, adjusting the cannula, unaware of Hyungwon’s hand getting closer and closer to—
The first touch of his lover’s hand against his cock is electrifying .
Changkyun moans, his cock twitching. His own hands frantically search for Hyungwon’s hardness against the side of his thigh, and as Hyungwon strokes him in one long, broad stroke, he groans.
“Oh my god— ah —“
His hand finally finds Hyungwon’s cock. He finds it hot, hard, and velvety. A shy stroke sends Hyungwon moaning. Changkyun’s heart blooms.
“Kyunnie— you’re wonderful, god—“
He’s done this before, with partners of different genders and preferences, and yet no one makes him feel like this. Like he’s someone worthy of praise, like he isn’t a liability.
Each stroke of Hyungwon’s hand against him brings him closer to completion. He’s panting, barely able to keep up with his lungs’ needs, but seeing Hyungwon flushed, eyes closed with pleasure as he ruts into Changkyun’s fist is so, so gratifying that he continues.
His thumb strokes the tip of Hyungwon’s cock, and Hyungwon groans, loud.
“Fuck. I’m close, love.”
Changkyun nods, frantically, hopefully conveying that he is in much of the same situation because he is unable to speak — his moans are now just breathless gasps of air that are drowned out by Hyungwon’s sounds. One more stroke, and it should do—
Hyungwon tightens his grip, and that was it.
He comes, inhaling as much air as possible, his hips arching off the bed. He’s silent — though his gasps are plenty loud. And as he comes down he registers Hyungwon’s loud moan as his lover comes into his hand, pouring his release onto Changkyun’s side, an expression of bliss on his face.
“Beautiful,” Changkyun whispers, as he comes down from his own high.
Hyungwon is slow, but when he makes love he burns Changkyun with his own flames of passion — all-consuming, yet languidly so.
—
It’s the night of Hyungwon’s birthday, when Changkyun decides to give himself to Hyungwon.
As Hyungwon lifts his plain grey shirt up, the tubing of his cannula tangles with his shirt, and he has to remove it to get it off his head. They giggle, and as Changkyun’s bare chest presses against Hyungwon’s, a thought crosses his head.
This is it — there is no hissing of oxygen. The cannula is still in his left hand.
This is it.
Just him. Just Hyungwon. Alone.
Hyungwon presses his forehead against his. Like this, Changkyun can only last minutes before he suffocates. They kiss, lazy, unhurried, no annoying press of plastic against his nose, as if all the time in the world is theirs.
But reality moves on. Changkyun starts to pant, and though he wants, more than anything, to have the nosepiece removed for the entirety of their lovemaking, he can’t. Hyungwon smiles at him, takes the cannula from his left hand, and fixes it in place, tucking the tubes behind his ears.
“Pretty,” Hyungwon says.
If I am pretty, then you are Adonis himself, hyung.
Oh, and Hyungwon’s gaze is so filled with love, affection, and care that Changkyun pushes himself forward to capture his mouth in another searing kiss. They take their time, each removal of clothing deliberately slow, each inch of skin revealed like buried treasure.
Changkyun is consumed by it — this passion. All thoughts leave his brain as Hyungwon touches him there — just a brush — and Changkyun moans, spreading his legs further, pushing himself down towards Hyungwon’s hand.
He hears the bedside drawer slide open, followed by the uncapping of a bottle. Oh god, this is really going to happen. Changkyun tenses — it’s been a while since he’s done anything — and Hyungwon, of course, notices.
“Okay, love?”
He looks into those caramel eyes. So full of hesitation and want at the same time. Changkyun nods. Hides his face in Hyungwon’s neck.
“Y-yeah. It’s... been a while.”
Hyungwon kisses the side of his head, fingers petting the inside of his thigh gently, so as to provide comfort.
“Stop me if you want, sweetheart.”
And then he’s on his back, a long finger gently prodding him open. With each push into him Changkyun inhales sharply. Hyungwon peppers apologetic kisses across his chest.
“So, so good for me.”
Two fingers — it’s incredibly tight. They thrust in and out of him, a repetitive motion that has Changkyun’s toes curling, and then suddenly, Hyungwon gently curves them up, up and onto his—
Changkyun makes an embarrassingly loud noise.
“Hy— aah , hyung—“
“Good?”
“Oh, fuck , so good.”
Hyungwon must have liked hearing him curse, because the cock settled on his inner thigh twitches slightly, and he moans as he presses those two fingers into the same spot over and over, and over—
Oh it’s just like the books. Passion, all-consuming. Changkyun knows, now, that it’s exactly like the books.
His head is empty — there is only pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, as Hyungwon continues to move his talented fingers inside him. Changkyun’s cock twitches, his hips lift off the bed, and he has a second of realization that this wasn’t his end goal.
He grabs hold of Hyungwon’s wrist.
“H-hyung,” he whimpers, face hot with an amalgamation of embarrassment and arousal, “need you— in me— please .”
Hyungwon’s face cycles through a myriad of emotions that Changkyun has not enough coherency nor time to name. But then, his lover kisses him, and he distantly feels the fingers slowly moving out of him — Changkyun almost whines from the loss.
And then Hyungwon kneels upright, towering over him, squeezes the bottle of lubricant onto his hands and spreads it onto his flushed cock. The image should be arousing, but Changkyun, for whatever reason, feels scared.
Changkyun stretches his arm out, like a child wanting to be carried. Hyungwon tosses the bottle aside, and nuzzles into his embrace, kissing him lightly.
“What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing. Just... slow, please?”
Hyungwon pauses for a second. He feels a smile against his neck.
“Of course. In your own pace, love.”
He finds, then, that Hyungwon means this literally. He gets out of the embrace, sits on the bed next to Changkyun, and pats his thigh. His eyes are crinkled on the corners, so full of fondness.
“You on top,” he says simply.
Never before has he heard that. Always ‘let me’ or ‘just lay down’. Never this.
A petal falls.
Changkyun feels as though his heart might burst. He picks his tank up, moves it to the other side, and makes quick work of adjusting the tube.
He grips Hyungwon’s shoulders, and Hyungwon’s hands grip his waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on his hipbones. He looks down, finding Hyungwon smiling.
“Ready?”
He nods, a small smile of his own stretched across his lips.
He presses his forehead flush against Hyungwon’s. With shaky hands he grips his lover’s cock, feeling a pulse so erratic under the hot velvety skin. He breathes in, as deeply as he can, and presses the head against himself.
Slow.
Changkyun moans as it enters him. Hyungwon groans, his grip on Changkyun’s waist tightening. It’s tight, it’s painful, but oh, he wants it so bad that he wills himself to take just a little more—
“Taking me in so well, sweetheart.”
Oh, the praise. He preens from it.
It’s slow — inch by inch he presses down, and when he finally takes everything in, the bottom of his thighs flush against the tops of Hyungwon’s, it feels exquisite. He feels so incredibly full, Hyungwon’s cock pressing into all the right places, that he moans, his hands gripping Hyungwon’s shoulders tight.
“Y-you’re big...”
Hyungwon groans, his grip on Changkyun’s waist tightening. He buries his nose in Changkyun’s neck, inhaling.
“You keep talking like that, sweetheart, and I’m not going to last much longer.”
The knowledge that he has this sort of power against Hyungwon... Changkyun flushes, leaning his head against Hyungwon’s on his shoulder.
He squeezes around the thickness inside him. Every now and then, Hyungwon twitches a little and his lover squirms underneath him, trying his hardest not to move. Changkyun gulps.
He leans back, placing his arms on Hyungwon’s knees, and lifts his hips up, just the tiniest of movements, and then back down.
Hyungwon emits a moan full of want, and lust, and oh, he wants to hear that beautiful sound again so he does the movement again, more confident this time. Hyungwon’s eyes are closed, head tilted back to lean against the headboard, cheeks pink, oh, he is so majestically beautiful—
And then he does it again, and again, and he pulls another sound from his lover that sounds like a distorted version of his name. He is sure Hyungwon’s grip on his waist is leaving half crescent moons on his skin but he absolutely does not care.
Because the feeling of Hyungwon inside him is glorious .
He changes his angle, just a slight tilt of his hips, and on his descent Hyungwon’s cock hits his prostate and he moans silently, for he is out of breath, oxygen tank barely keeping up. He voices a little broken moan; just barely audible—
“ Haa — Hyungwon—“
His thighs are tired, and Changkyun is gasping, head swimming with the inability to breathe. He wants to kiss Hyungwon, so much, but his mouth is busy inhaling large amounts of air into his throat. It’s too much, he’s surely suffocating, his cannula slips off with the intensity of his motions—
Hyungwon presses his hips down, stopping him, brings him closer.
Changkyun’s vision clears slightly. He barely feels Hyungwon’s hand fixing his nosepiece in place, cupping his jaw in his hands, stroking his jawline gently.
“Breathe, love. Breathe for me.”
Changkyun does just that, nodding. Inhale, the sweet oxygen flooding his burning lungs like cold water putting out embers, and then exhale. He does just this — Hyungwon is still hard inside him, and as he catches his breath his lover presses gentle kisses onto his chest.
“There you are, Kyun.”
He’s still panting, softly now, and as Hyungwon’s hands roam his chest, his thighs push up, and they’re moving again — slow, just the slightest in and out, and yet it feels just as good.
“Slow, you said, my love. How does it feel?”
Another petal falls. He is so, so close to the bud.
Changkyun whimpers to answer. He leans in, pressing his lips onto Hyungwon’s, just breathing against those plump, warm lips. His own cock is rubbing against Hyungwon’s stomach, just the tiniest bit of friction, and yet it sends little shocks up his spine.
“Mm? Tell me, love.”
The upthrusts of Hyungwon’s hips are getting more insistent, and Changkyun rises himself slightly in time with his thrusts. It’s perfect — kind of like a dance. Hyungwon’s cock is throbbing inside; Changkyun feels— he feels—
“ Hng— good, full, love—“
He ignores the fact that not all of those are adjectives. He’s properly riding Hyungwon now, each thrust sends his nerve impulses flying, takes his breath away. His cock is leaking, and as Hyungwon wraps his hand around him he gasps.
“Hyung— close. So, so close.”
Hyungwon kisses his jaw, just beside where his cannula dangles. “Me too, love,” he says, a whisper against his skin. Hyungwon pulls him closer into his chest, and Changkyun buries his face in Hyungwon’s shoulders, his arms encircling his lover.
Hyungwon’s hand is still around him; pumping, stroking. His hips are thrusting erratically, and the pleasure of having his lover’s cock hit his prostate in every upstroke, combined with his hand around his own length builds. It builds and builds, until it finally reaches a peak—
Changkyun barely has time to whimper out, “c-coming—“
His back arches, his grip on Hyungwon is impossibly tight, and he clenches around Hyungwon’s cock as he comes, white spurts coating Hyungwon’s chest, and it’s barely a second after he comes that a shudder runs through his lover’s body under him, a broken moan from his mouth, before warmness floods his insides.
Changkyun opens his eyes, not wanting to miss the memory, and if he thought Hyungwon was beautiful before this then Hyungwon during orgasm is absolutely ethereal — his brows furrowed, mouth flushed red and parted open, gasping, his cheeks hot with a blush, his forehead wet with perspiration — oh god, Changkyun is in love—
Changkyun is so in love.
He’s drunk with it.
*
Later, when they’re both clean, when Changkyun has switched out his cannula for his mask like he does every night, he lays his head on Hyungwon’s chest, idly listening to the heartbeat beneath.
Hyungwon is already asleep. Changkyun makes sure by softly whispering, “hyung?”
There is no reply, only their combined soft breaths and Changkyun’s oxygen. He braces himself. Inhales.
“I think I love you,” he whispered to nobody.
He tests the weight of the words against his tongue.
Changkyun finds that he likes it.
“I love you.”
He closes his eyes, contentedly nestles himself against Hyungwon’s side, and goes to sleep.
Changkyun doesn’t see his lover’s lips turn up in a slight smile — the last petal falls, without him knowing.
—-
Pulmonary fibrosis leaves little else to do.
But Changkyun has got Hyungwon, and he is more than a trillion flowery words, more than one night’s worth of passionate lovemaking, more than words on paper.
For him, Hyungwon is more than enough.
End.