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It would be hard to imagine a more unlikely couple, in any possible world. They were never supposed to meet, they certainly weren't supposed to date, and they absolutely are not supposed to be having a romantic Christmas together. And yet. Fate or luck or some bunch of particularly capricious gods have intervened, and Taemin's too happily swathed in the delicious haze of fresh love to argue.
He may be in love, but he's still a prince, and he isn't in any position to just hire a hotel room or something. That would attract far too much attention. And he's not ready to take Jongin home yet. He's starting to suspect that he will be, probably sooner rather than later. But not yet.
It's all fine because Kibum, as usual, has come to Taemin's rescue with his characteristic blend of pragmatism and indulgence. He's offered the use of his winter house for the night. It's probably the smallest place he owns, at least if you don't count the entire ludicrously photogenic mountain it's perched on. The house itself is an elegant thing with the bones of a neo-hanok, plus a few anachronistic stylings, as Kibum had explained before he'd packed Taemin off with a kiss on the head and a bottle of something seriously expensive: Tradition is lovely, but I wanted a proper bath, honey. And a fireplace. Anyway, it looks gorgeous as they bank down out of the fog. Peaceful and cosy. Perfect, as Kibum clearly knew when he suggested it.
Just to reinforce Taemin's suspicion that his current life trajectory is being favoured by powerful ancestral spirits, it begins snowing aesthetically as they come in to land. Once the chaotic flurries kicked up by the engine fans have settled, great luminous feathers of it resume wafting down to soften the granite and pines of the austere garden and reflect the buttery light that spills from the house.
Jongin's bright gold eyes are even more enormous than usual, flickering around all over all of this. He's not used to being in this kind of place. He's doing his best to pretend he isn't nervous, but he's buzzing with skittish energy, fidgeting about inside his protective mantle of adorably oversized knitwear. It's cute as hell. Taemin wants to kiss his nose; settles for nuzzling against the downy wool of his scarf, trying to find the gap between that and the fuzzy cashmere beanie Jongin's got jammed down over his ears. Then he tries reaching somewhere into the layers of warm fluff to extract one of Jongin's hands, so he can coax him out of the shuttle and into the sparkling night air.
They stumble slightly aimlessly around the pristine courtyard for a moment, as people have a tendency to do when presented with virgin snow, but it's honestly too cold. They're drawn towards the glowing walls, towards the kind of house that Jongin, like most people growing up down in Seoul, would only have encountered in fairy tales.
This is a proper old-fashioned analogue house. No locks, no security (that's all presumably being ably handled by some fleet of aerostats somewhere down the mountain. Choi, Taemin's ferociously competent bodyguard, will have already thoroughly examined all of that. Not that he has any mistrust of Kibum, but the man is a professional). All Taemin has to do is haul open the door and tumble inside, followed by a healthy flurry of snow and the elegant collection of limbs that is his beloved Kim Jongin.
Jongin's looking about, trying to take it all in. Taemin's looking at Jongin.
As beautiful and brilliant as Jongin is, he still seems unsure of himself in these circumstances, unused to this kind of setting. And that's a huge part of his charm, honestly. Taemin sets about being busy, unpacking odds and ends and remembering how to properly light the fire that's already been expertly set up in the monumental stone hearth. Opens the cognac. Generally allows Jongin to take his time exploring, slinking about the place, sampling the air with subtle sniffs, examining the architecture, his bare feet silent on the glossy boards.
It doesn't take him long to decide he likes it. He sheds several layers of wool, slides down in a comfortable sprawl by the hearth, and smiles.
"Hey, Taem. This is pretty nice."
"Glad you like it."
"I mean. It's a nice place. And also it's nice. Seeing your world."
And that's fair, given their dates. They've gone from outer orbit to grimy underground, but never this sort of place. Never the sort of place where someone like Taemin was actually supposed to be, and where someone like Jongin was absolutely not. And it's about damn time Taemin fixed that.
Taemin drifts over, folds himself down besides Jongin, hands him a delicate glass of dark and highly-volatile liquid. It's fun watching his nose, which twitches ever so slightly as it takes in the full magnificence of whatever aromatic molecules are emanating from it. It smells good enough to a human, so he can only imagine, but it's clearly an experience and he gets a vicarious thrill from it. He enjoys watching Jongin enjoy things.
They sit companionably for a while, letting the fire and the alcohol work their soothing magic. Taemin reaches out to slip off Jongin's fuzzy beanie, and stroke his silky white hair, and Jongin shudders happily at his touch. Taemin's filled with an unreasonable urge to be sentimental.
"I only like this world if I can share it with you."
Jongin huffs a laugh, but he's a sap for this sort of thing and also a terrible liar, and he knows it. He's blushing. His ears perk happily.
"Cheesy."
"I'm distracting you from the fact I actually didn't get you a present."
"Really, nothing? I thought you were joking - "
Taemin dodges this by leaning closer and kissing him, reassured immediately that he's on the right path by the deep bass rumble of Jongin's purr. It feels so good that he lets himself melt against the languorous form of Jongin's body, so he can feel the resonance buzzing through his bones. And yeah, there's the downy and surprisingly muscular cord of Jongin's tail, coiling around his leg, echoing the warm gentle brush of his lips, and then the hungry and insistent pressure of his tongue, and Taemin's panting against that tongue already, because he's truly a hopeless case.
Jongin pulls back a little. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are huge and Taemin wants to roll him onto the floor and slip all his clothes off and kiss him all over. So he does just that. For a while Taemin forgets everything, and disappears into his own little universe of warm bronze skin and gorgeous white fur and Jongin's mellow sounds of pleasure. But he eventually realises he has to resurface, at least temporarily so that Jongin, the gentleman that he is, can reciprocate; which he begins to do as enthusiastically as always.
But then.
He pauses, sits back, hems awkwardly. His white tail flickers like an oscilloscope trace.
"I, um. I got you something."
Then he grins, and those savage teeth flash, and as always Taemin is taken completely unprepared by how unspeakably erotic he finds them. By the time he's recovered enough to close his mouth, left open from some hilariously unsubtle involuntary little sigh that's just escaped him, Jongin's mercifully dived away and doesn't tease him. Instead he stretches himself out improbably across the boards to rummage around in his disgracefully careworn backpack. Then he curls back, arranges himself along the floor next to Taemin, his tail looped gently over his hip, their feet all tangled together, and hands him a mysterious satin box in a gentle shade of peach. He meets Taemin's eyes, and now his smile has suddenly gone all coy and shy.
"I know you said not to get you anything, but, I remembered you mentioned it, and. I had an idea. So."
Ears as fluffy as the snow on the windowsill quiver. His eyes are glittering. It's all deeply intriguing.
Taemin slides off the glossy dark ribbon, doing his best to pretend he can care about much besides the warm proximity of Jongin's body, the intoxicating vibration of his purr.
He notices the purr pause as he lifts up the lid. There's a little inquisitory sniff. Taemin's a tiny bit nervous now, in the best possible way.
Each one of the three objects inside carries its own slightly different flavour of excitement. Each of them sends glorious ripples of energy through his core. There is no way he can control his blush, even if he wanted to. Absolutely no way he can restrain his curling lips, or the little shimmy of his hips against Jongin's. None at all.
Not when there's a slim silk headband ornamented by luxurious furry ears, matching Taemin's natural black, and he knows without question that they're the cutest thing he'll ever wear.
He definitely can't pretend he's not affected when there's a tail. It's black and fluffy and long and most importantly it flaunts a heavy silver tapered base which, if considered outside the context of its intended purpose, is a surprisingly elegant object. In context, it sends a very pleasant shimmer of electricity down various of his nerves.
And that, despite the immediate and powerful anticipation it summons, is not even the thing he's most flustered about.
Taemin really, absolutely cannot be expected to remain calm when Jongin has bought him a collar.
A soft white leather one. With a silver buckle. And a little bell.
"oh ~ !"
Jongin's watching him, one eyebrow canted, head cocked, exactly the right amount of mischief in his smile.
"Is this too cutesy - ? If we match - ?"
Taemin can only answer by giggling and kissing him and kissing him, letting himself get rolled onto his back. Melting. He's a mess.
"I love them. They're perfect." He clings to Jongin, his arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, nuzzles a delighted kiss into the warm soft curve of his throat, then lets himself relax back down to sprawl decoratively in the firelight. He can't be blamed for posing like this. He's too enraptured, he's helpless. "Thank you." His voice has gone all breathy. That's not his fault either.
Jongin hovers above him, his pretty white hair dishevelled, his impossibly toothy smile gleaming.
"Let me help you try them on."
He looks very pleased with himself. He also looks hungry. He looks like the most bewitching thing Taemin's ever seen, and it makes him think -
"- do you get a collar too ~ ?"
Jongin growls and pounces on him, snarls something deeply implausible implying he's far too wild and fierce, unlike Taemin the sweet little palace kitten. But, as already noted, he is a terrible liar.
In the end, they improvise with the glossy ribbon from Taemin's present. It's dark and supple enough to tie in a nice bow, a graceful contrast to his pure white fur.
They match beautifully.
❄️❄️❄️
Much later, as the storm lifts and the moon casts crisp black shadows onto the snow, the pair of them sleep as only the properly besotted can, with their limbs tangled up and their foreheads tilted together: a perfect echo of each other, like something that was always meant to be.