Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Yangyang woke slowly.

Warmth pressed against his back, breath ghosting over the curve of his neck. For a moment, he didn’t move, just let himself float in the quiet, wrapped in Ten’s arms, the night before still humming in his skin.

It wasn’t a dream. Ten had come. Ten had held him.

Ten had said he was sure.

Yangyang smiled against the pillow.

Eventually, he stirred, stretching just enough to feel Ten tighten his grip sleepily.

“Mmm,” Ten murmured. “Don’t move. You’re warm.”

Yangyang huffed a laugh. “We can’t stay like this forever.”

“Why not?” Ten’s voice was rough with sleep. “Let’s quit the group. Open a noodle shop. Stay in bed until we’re fifty.”

Yangyang turned, laughing quietly as he buried his face in Ten’s chest. “You don’t even know how to cook.”

“You don’t either,” Ten mumbled.

“Exactly. We’d go out of business.”

Ten chuckled, but then his fingers traced lightly down Yangyang’s spine. “So... we tell them?”

Yangyang looked up at him. “If you’re still sure.”

Ten gave him a look - fond, exasperated, like he couldn’t believe Yangyang still didn’t get it. “I’m sure. I’m nervous as hell, but I’m sure.”

Yangyang nodded, his smile slipping into something soft and shy. “Okay.”

Ten kissed his forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”

They laid there for another moment in the quiet morning, just breathing together. Then Ten murmured, “Isn’t Dejun back today?”

Yangyang blinked. “Oh… yeah. This afternoon, I think.”

“Makes sense to do it today then,” Ten said. “Before things go crazy again. Schedules, rehearsals, all that…”

Yangyang sighed and stretched again, arms above his head. “So… we do it today.”

Ten grinned and brushed his knuckles down Yangyang’s side. “Brave little wolf.”

Before Yangyang could respond, both of their stomachs growled - his, then Ten’s in response. They looked at each other.

“Tragic,” Ten muttered. “So romantic. True romance, interrupted by hunger.”

Yangyang laughed and started to sit up, pushing back the blanket. “Let’s go eat then.”

But as he stood, Ten’s gaze dropped...then paused.

He smirked. “Yangyang…”

“What?”

“You’ve got a little… situation going on.”
Yangyang glanced down at himself, at the very clear tent in his pants and groaned, dragging the blanket back over his hips. “Oh my god.”

Ten was still grinning like the devil. “I mean, I get it. Waking up in my arms? Who wouldn’t?”

“Stop,” Yangyang mumbled, cheeks flushed as he reached for his hoodie.

Ten laughed and flopped back on the pillow, smug. “Just saying. You’re kind of obsessed with me.”

Yangyang tossed a pillow at his face.

Ten caught it, laughing. “Alright, alright. Let’s feed your other hunger first.”

Yangyang tugged on the hoodie and gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror. The hem hit mid-thigh, and it did a decent job of hiding his… situation. Just enough to not humiliate himself in front of Kun. Probably.

He padded quietly down the hallway, ran a hand through his messy hair, and slipped into the kitchen like he hadn’t just spent the entire night wrapped around his groupmate like a needy koala.

Kun was already at the stove, humming cheerfully, flipping something in a pan. “Morning, sunshine! You want some egg toast? I’m making enough for a small army.”

“Uh yeah, sure. Thanks.” Yangyang sat quickly at the table, tugging the hoodie down just in case.

Barely thirty seconds later, Ten strolled in, looking very much like someone who’d just rolled out of bed. Hair wild, sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, and a yawn he didn’t bother covering. He blinked blearily at Kun. “Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were up.”

Kun glanced over his shoulder. “You didn’t hear me slamming cupboards and burning my hand on the pan?”

Ten scratched his stomach lazily. “I sleep like the dead.”

He dropped into the seat next to Yangyang like it was the most natural thing in the world and accepted a pair of chopsticks from Kun with a smile.

“You feeling better?” Kun asked Yangyang, placing a plate of toast in front of him.

Yangyang nodded quickly. “Yeah, much better. Just… weird bug or something.”
“He still might have some lingering symptoms,” Ten added breezily, leaning on one elbow, eyes sliding to Yangyang like he was planning something.

Yangyang shot him a warning look.

Ten ignored it. His hand crept under the table.

“What kind of symptoms?” Kun asked, frowning.

Yangyang opened his mouth to say something, anything, but then Ten’s fingers found his thigh, warm and possessive, and squeezed.

Yangyang squeaked.

Kun blinked.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yangyang choked. “Just...hot. I mean, the toast is hot. Really hot.” He grabbed a piece and shoved it into his mouth with exaggerated focus.

Ten picked up his chopsticks and licked one slowly - obscenely - before pointing them at the toast. “Yeah, hot things can really… sneak up on you.”

Yangyang kicked him under the table.

Kun stared between them, eyebrows rising slowly. “You two are so weird in the mornings.”

Ten didn’t miss a beat. “He’s just shy before breakfast.”

Kun rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove, muttering something about “freaks before 10 a.m.”

Under the table, Ten slid his fingers higher.

Yangyang swatted his hand away - twice - but he was smiling now, trying not to. Even if his heart was racing and his thighs were trembling slightly from how little self-control Ten had. And how much he liked it.

Kun returned to the stove, humming again as he poured something into a saucepan. “Do you guys want soup too? I made a huge pot last night.”

“Yes, please,” Yangyang said, a little too fast, voice tight. “Soup is great. Big fan of soup.”

Ten smirked beside him. His hand, hidden beneath the table, inched slowly across the gap between them. Inch by torturous inch, until his fingertips brushed the edge of Yangyang’s thigh again.

Yangyang swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on his toast like it was the most fascinating object in the known universe.

Kun kept talking. “It’s just doenjang-jjigae, but I added some mushrooms. Yangyang, you like mushrooms, right?”

“Huh? Yeah. Love them. Big mushroom guy.”

Ten’s pinky grazed higher.

Yangyang’s breath hitched.

Ten’s fingers hovered… lingered… and then, like he’d thought long and hard about it (he hadn’t), they ever so lightly brushed the still half hard bulge hiding under the hoodie. Just a whisper of contact. A stroke so gentle it could’ve been accidental. Except it wasn’t.

Yangyang’s knees jerked inward under the table, and he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Kun turned halfway around. “You okay?”
“Hot toast!” Yangyang blurted. “Still hot. Very hot in my mouth.”

Kun blinked, then laughed. “Man, you really must’ve missed real food. Poor thing.”

Ten bit into his toast, oh-so-innocently, but his hand didn’t move. If anything, it pressed just slightly more firmly. Enough to feel the outline. Enough to know Yangyang was still hard, still sensitive. Still suffering.

Teasing Yangyang like this had Ten’s own pants getting tight now too. He shifted in his seat, biting back a groan as his pants pulled taut over his crotch.

Kun had no idea. The way he stirred the soup, calm and content, oblivious to the quiet filth going on inches from him. God, it made it worse. Or better. Ten couldn’t decide.

Yangyang squeezed his thighs together like it might help, but it didn’t. Not when Ten gave him a slow, deliberate stroke through the fabric, just the edge of his hand brushing the tip.

Yangyang bit down hard on his toast and tried not to moan.

Kun ladled soup into bowls, still rambling. “So Hendery almost faceplanted off the lift, and I swear it looked like a cartoon. His board just...”

Ten’s hand vanished.

Yangyang sagged forward a little, heart pounding, sweat prickling at the back of his neck.

Ten leaned in, so close his lips nearly touched Yangyang’s ear. He didn’t speak. Just breathed out the softest little tsk, amused and pleased.

He trembled, shifting his hoodie subtly to cover himself better, and tried to act normal as Kun finally turned around with their bowls of soup.

They managed to survive breakfast without anyone getting visibly molested - barely.

Kun, still in full big-brother mode, made sure everyone ate plenty, gave Yangyang an extra boiled egg for “protein and healing,” and only mildly side-eyed the strange tension crackling between him and Ten.

Eventually, he wandered off with a laundry basket, muttering something about a mountain of post-trip laundry, leaving them mercifully alone in the kitchen.

Ten stood, stretched like a cat, and gave Yangyang a pointed once-over. “You know,” he said casually, picking at a stray thread on his sleeve, “since you were deathly ill all weekend, it’s probably a good idea to shower.”

Yangyang raised a brow. “What, I stink?”

“No, you smell incredible actually,” Ten grinned, stepping just a little closer. “But I meant for Kun’s sake. Gotta wash the germs off. Scrub away the contagion.”

“Right. Can’t infect the others with morning wood syndrome,” Yangyang muttered, but he stood anyway, sighing like it was such a burden to be obedient.

He grabbed his toiletries and slipped into the bathroom with one last glance at Ten, who made a very deliberate gesture of locking an invisible zipper over his lips. Not gonna do anything. Totally innocent.

Liar.

The bathroom was warm from someone’s earlier shower, a little steamy still, and felt like a small pocket of peace.

He brushed his teeth first, normal things, grounding things and then peeled off the hoodie and his briefs, kicking them aside. His body still ached faintly, in that delicious way that left him flushed the second he looked at himself too long.
He stepped under the spray of the shower, hot and sharp against his skin, and tilted his head back with a groan.

And then he looked down.

His wrists. Just faint shadows there. Barely visible. But he saw them - remembered how it had felt to be pinned down, held in place, worshipped and ruined and claimed.

His cock twitched, already half-hard, and the second the memory hit him full-force - Ten’s voice, rough and low, the press of his mouth, the drag of his fingers - he stiffened all the way.

Yangyang leaned a hand against the wall, breathing hard, water streaming down his back.

He hadn’t even meant to, he was just supposed to be getting clean but now he was leaking again, so hard it hurt, and his brain was full of nothing but flashbacks and the low sound of Ten’s laugh in his ear as he’d begged for more.

“Shit…” he whispered, squeezing his thighs together under the spray.

This was not helping. This was not how you detox from a sex weekend.

But his fingers drifted lower anyway.
Just a little touch wouldn’t hurt, right?

Just to take the edge off before he snapped again. Before Ten decided to tease him into insanity again before lunch.

He bit his lip, closed his eyes and let the memory take him under.

The bathroom door clicked open.

Yangyang froze, hand wrapped around himself.

He peeked around the steamed-up glass of the shower just as Ten padded in like he had every right to be there. Shirtless. Hair a little tousled from sleep. And completely unfazed by the fact that Yangyang was very visibly trying and failing not to jerk off.

“Oh...hey,” Ten said casually, like this was normal, like he just happened to wander in while sporting the most unapologetic boner Yangyang had ever seen. “Just need to brush my teeth.”

Yangyang blinked.

Ten started brushing, eyes locked with Yangyang’s in the mirror, and for a moment, it almost looked like he might behave. Like he’d just brush his teeth, spit, and walk away.
But he didn’t.

He glanced down at the very obvious hard-on tenting his sweats, then at Yangyang, then back to the mirror.

Spat.

Wiped his mouth.

And then turned around, eyes dark and full of heat.

“Okay, fuck it.”

He quickly locked the door and then pulled the shower door open and stepped in, like a man possessed.

“Hyung..”

Yangyang didn’t even get the rest out before he was backed into the tile, warm water pouring down both of them, Ten’s mouth already crashing over his.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle. It was need. Raw, blistering, unfiltered need.

Ten kissed like he was starving. Like he’d held off exactly as long as he could and then snapped, hard and sudden.

His hands found Yangyang’s hips, his waist, gripping like he didn’t want to let go. Their erections bumped together and Yangyang gasped, already trembling with it.

“You were taking too long,” Ten muttered against his lips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You said you just wanted to brush your teeth,” Yangyang breathed, already arching up into him.

“Yeah,” Ten said, grinding against him, voice low and rough. “And you said you were just gonna shower. Liar.”

Yangyang whimpered, already melting, already gone.

There was no stopping it now. Not when they were both soaked and hard and clinging to each other like the world might end if they pulled apart.

Steam curled around them, slicking the walls, wrapping everything in warmth and haze. The spray of the shower beat down steadily, but all Yangyang could hear was the sound of his own breath - fast, unsteady - and the quiet rasp of Ten's voice as he dropped to his knees.
“Fuck,” Ten whispered, eyes blown wide and dark as he looked up at him. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He leaned in, palms sliding up the back of Yangyang’s thighs, gripping him like he might disappear if he let go.

And then, just like that he sucked him in.

No teasing. No warning. Just the kind of hungry, desperate motion that made Yangyang’s knees nearly buckle against the slick tile.

“H...hyung...!”

But Ten groaned around him like he didn’t care, like this was the only thing he wanted in the whole world. He was already bobbing his head, swallowing him deep, spit and water mixing as his lips stretched and his throat worked.

Yangyang’s hands scrambled to his shoulders, holding on, holding him, because there was no holding back. Not from this. Not from him.

He looked down, and the sight of Ten on his knees, soaking wet, mouth full, worshipful and wild, nearly broke him.

“You’re insane,” Yangyang gasped, his voice catching. “You...god....”

Yangyang was gone. Just a whimpering, twitching mess, back pressed to the tile, fingers tightening in Ten’s hair. Every slow drag of that mouth was a promise, every wet suck, every moan, every desperate swallow.

Ten’s groan vibrated against Yangyang’s skin as he pulled off slowly, breath hot, lips swollen. His eyes roamed over him like he couldn’t believe he got to have this again...have him.

One hand dropped to his own cock, already flushed and heavy, and he started stroking himself in slow, tight pulls, never looking away from Yangyang’s face. Water streamed down his temples, over his lips, down his throat.

Then, like he couldn’t stand it a second longer, he stood, reaching for the body wash.

Yangyang barely had time to catch his breath before slick, soapy fingers wrapped around both of them, pressed side by side. Ten’s grip was firm and filthy and perfect, his breath catching as he worked them together, wrist twisting just right. Their cocks slid and throbbed against each other, slippery and hot, every movement sparking heat in Yangyang’s belly.

Ten’s mouth was right by his ear now, his voice rough and low. “I keep thinking about how it felt,” he rasped. “How tight you were. How wrecked you looked. How you wouldn’t stop begging.”

Yangyang whimpered.
That was all it took.

Ten growled and pushed him back against the tiles with a wet smack, crowding into his space like he needed every inch of him. One hand stayed between them, stroking them both mercilessly, while the other reached up and pinned Yangyang’s wrist to the wall.

“Look at you,” Ten whispered, forehead pressed to Yangyang’s. “Still so sensitive. Still so good for me.”

Yangyang gasped, heart hammering, cock twitching in Ten’s hand. He was already close, already so far gone.

The water ran hot over their bodies. Steam rose. And the slick sound of their skin filled the tiny space between their breaths.

He was ruined for anything else.

Ruined for anyone else.

And Ten looked like he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Ten came first.

It hit him fast - like everything with Yangyang did. His whole body tensed, mouth falling open in a silent curse as his hips jerked forward, cock pulsing between their slick stomachs. Hot ropes of cum spilled out, mixing instantly with the lather and steam, dripping down between them in thick, messy trails.

But Ten didn't stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

He rutted through it, eyes half-lidded, a wild look on his face as he used his release like a second kind of lube. His hand slid over both of them, smearing everything together, jerking them rougher now, stickier, filthier. The sounds were obscene, wet and fast and desperate.

“Fuck...Yangyang...baby...” Ten groaned, voice cracking.

That’s what did it.

That word.

Baby.

Yangyang cried out, hips stuttering as pleasure ripped through him like lightning. His whole body went taut, thighs shaking, back arching off the tiles as his orgasm slammed into him. He came hard, painting Ten’s fist and both their bellies, his cum mixing with Ten’s in a hot, milky mess.

They stood there like that, tangled and heaving, chests slick and hearts pounding. Ten rested his forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder, hand still loosely curled around them both as their breathing slowed.

“Jesus,” Ten muttered after a beat, voice low and wrecked. “I’m never gonna be normal again.”

Yangyang laughed breathlessly, still trembling. “Good.”

Ten kissed his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Yangyang leaned into him, eyes fluttering shut. “I think I’m perfect.”

They stayed like that for another long moment, water washing everything clean around them.

BANG BANG BANG.

“Yo! Who’s in there, the ghost of showers past? I gotta pee like a racehorse on Red Bull!”
Yangyang startled, nearly slipping as he reached for the body wash. “It’s me!” he shouted back, voice cracking just a little. “Almost done!”

Outside the door, Hendery muttered something unintelligible about bladders and civil rights, his footsteps retreating.

Inside, Yangyang and Ten exchanged a look. Both still breathless, still flushed from what they definitely shouldn’t have been doing in a shared dorm bathroom.

They both rinsed off quickly and stepped out of the shower.

Ten grabbed some towels and handed one to Yangyang, then reached over to dry his back with practiced, slow hands.

Yangyang’s cheeks turned scarlet. “I can do it myself,” he mumbled, eyes darting to the door like Hendery might kick it down at any second.

Ten smirked. “Yeah, but I like doing it,” he said low in his ear. “You make the cutest sounds when you're flustered.”

“Shut up,” Yangyang hissed, but he didn’t stop him.

Once they were both mostly dry and semi-presentable, they waited a beat to make sure the coast was clear. No footsteps. No Hendery. Ten gave a nod. “Let’s go.”

They opened the door, quiet, careful and slipped out, only for Hendery to appear out of nowhere like a summoned demon.

He blinked at them. Towel-clad. Dripping. Guilty.

Then he gave them the slowest, smuggest smirk known to man.

“Nice shower, bros?”

Yangyang nearly combusted on the spot.

Ten gave the most casual shrug he could muster. “Refreshing.”

Hendery just kept smirking, breezing past them into the bathroom without another word.

The door clicked shut.

Yangyang groaned. “This dorm is hell.”

.....................................................................................................................................................................
The living room erupted into life as Dejun burst through the door, dragging his suitcase behind him and kicking it closed with dramatic flair.

“I’m home! Miss me?” he called out, arms wide.

Kun jumped up from the sofa. “You’re back! How was China? Did your grandma feed you to death again?”

“She tried!” Dejun groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside Yangyang. “I’m ninety percent dumpling now. I don’t even remember what my collarbones look like.”

Yangyang laughed, scooting over to make room. “You sound like you had a good time.”

“I did. But what about you?” Dejun turned to him, frowning suddenly. “I heard you were sick?”

Kun, still hovering nearby, nodded solemnly. “He barely got out of bed all weekend. It was bad.”

Dejun immediately fussed, putting a hand to Yangyang’s forehead. “Are you okay now? Did you eat? Did you rest? You look okay, but are you really better?”

Yangyang flushed a little under the attention. “I’m fine now. I swear. Just something that knocked me out for like two days.”

Hendery, sprawled across the armchair like it was his throne, snorted. “Yeah. Hope that... mysterious illness doesn’t come back.”

Yangyang froze.

Just for a second.

Dejun blinked. “...What kind of illness was it?”

Hendery shrugged, biting back a smirk. “The kind that hits hard, fast, and leaves you walking funny after.”

Yangyang made a strangled noise.

Kun frowned. “What?”

Dejun tilted his head. “Wait...what?”

Yangyang waved both hands. “No, no, he’s being weird, I was just sick, like a normal person. Fever. Headache. Nothing dramatic.”

Hendery made a small, innocent hum and examined his fingernails. “Mmhm.”

Ten, casually leaning against the kitchen counter, jumped in smoothly. “Anyway, Dejun, did you bring back those shrimp crackers Yangyang likes? He’s been crying about them for days.”

“YES!” Dejun lit up, immediately digging into his suitcase. “I brought four bags. One’s already half gone, but still!”

Kun suddenly perked up from his spot on the rug, clapping his hands together like he’d just remembered something vital.

“Oh! I finished editing the vlog from my trip to the mountains last month! I was gonna send the vlog to the company tonight, but..”

He paused for effect. Everyone turned to look at him.

“...I thought maybe we could do a little screening party first. You know, director’s cut, exclusive premiere. Open some wine, order food, watch the beauty in glorious 4K?”

Dejun gasped. “You mean we get the uncut chaos before management ruins it with subtitles and sensible cuts?”

Kun bowed dramatically. “Exactly.”
“I’m in,” Hendery said immediately. “I’ll bring the snacks. But only if I get to roast your transitions in real time.”

“You’d do that anyway,” Kun replied.

Ten stretched, arms overhead. “Actually sounds kinda nice.”

Yangyang nodded, already a bit pink in the cheeks, but smiling. “Last day off, might as well enjoy it.”

“Perfect,” Kun beamed. “I’ll set it up for tonight. Comfy clothes mandatory. Emotional support snacks optional but encouraged.”

“Are we gonna cry?” Dejun asked, mock-concerned.

“If you don’t,” Kun said, winking, “you have no soul.”

They all laughed, and just like that, the plan was set. One last lazy night together, before schedules kicked back in. Everyone settled in doing their own thing.

Ten leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching Yangyang try to discreetly fix his hair in the reflection of a framed photo.

“You look fine,” Ten murmured. “Everyone already thinks you’re the prettiest one anyway.”
Yangyang shot him a look. “Stop.”

Ten smiled. “I’m serious.”

Yangyang dropped his hands and glanced toward the living room, where the others were. “Hey,” he said, voice low, “do you think… tonight might be a good time?”

Ten tilted his head. “To tell them?”

Yangyang nodded. “I mean, everyone’s here. And we’re relaxed. And I don’t wanna keep hiding it like it’s something bad.”

Ten was quiet for a second. Then he straightened up, stepped a little closer. “You sure?”

“I think so,” Yangyang said. “Are you?”

Ten looked at him for a long moment. Then, with a small, slow smile, he reached out and gently hooked a finger through one of Yangyang’s belt loops. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.”

Yangyang smiled, nervous but soft.

Then gave the loop a light tug. “Let’s survive Kun’s mountain vlog first. Then we tell them.”

“Deal.”

They heard Hendery shout something about wine corks being “a scam invented by Big Grape,” and burst out laughing.

Whatever happened tonight, at least they’d be doing it together.

......................................................................................................................................................................

The living room was glowing with soft lamplight, the coffee table covered in an artfully chaotic spread of takeout boxes, half-finished wine bottles. Someone had brought out a scented candle. Dejun kept blowing it out and lighting it again to "test the vibes."

Kun’s laptop was hooked up to the TV, paused on the thumbnail of his new vlog. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of it, remote in one hand, wine glass in the other, clearly very proud of himself.

Ten and Yangyang were squished together on one end of the sofa, their knees touching, a shared blanket draped over both of their laps. Yangyang was warm from the wine, his third glass making him kinda tipsy enough to lean a little more into Ten, their shoulders brushing comfortably. Ten’s hand hadn’t moved from his thigh in twenty minutes.

Hendery was already loudly roasting Kun before the vlog even started.
“Does your face need to be in every shot?” he asked, dramatically stuffing a spring roll into his mouth. “I thought this was about the mountains, not your pores.”

“Shut up, I was vlogging!” Kun protested, pointing his wine glass at him. “It’s called being a personality.”

“I thought it was called narcissism,” Dejun chimed in, already laughing.

“Y’all are just mad you didn’t get to come,” Kun said smugly. “Anyway. Shut up and watch.”

Laughter filled the room as the vlog began, Kun narrating over slow-motion drone shots and dramatic GoPro footage.

Hendery started a drinking game based on how many times Kun said “epic” or “unreal.”

Then Ten had to take a long sip of wine every time Kun adjusted his hair mid monologue to camera.

Dejun nearly spit out his drink when a dramatic music swell accompanied Kun doing a slow 360 turn on the mountains.

Yangyang was laughing, warm all over, but his heart wasn’t totally in the teasing. Every now and then he glanced at Ten, whose smile was wide and bright in the dim room. They hadn’t talked again about when exactly they’d tell the others.

But maybe after this. Maybe after the credits rolled and the jokes settled into soft giggles and wine haze.

Yangyang reached under the blanket and gently laced his fingers with Ten’s.

Ten squeezed his hand. Just once.

It felt like a countdown, Yangyang couldn’t focus on the screen anymore.

Kun’s vlog had moved into a painfully slow panoramic shot of some misty ridge, but Yangyang’s heart was thudding like a drum in his chest. Ten’s fingers were still linked with his under the blanket, warm and calm and steady, but it only made Yangyang feel more anxious.

They were all right here. Laughing. Happy. Buzzed on wine and food and each other.

And Yangyang was going to ruin it.

Or change it.

Or..something.

His palms were sweating. His wineglass was empty. His thoughts were spinning.

What if they hate it? What if they think it’s gross? What if they say we can’t!

He snapped.

Or maybe he just stopped thinking entirely.

Because one second he was sitting quietly, and the next, he was climbing into Ten’s lap and grabbing his face.

“What the f..?!” Ten managed, eyes wide.

And then Yangyang kissed him.

Hard.

Full.

All teeth and lips and desperate passion.

The blanket slipped off. A chorus of gasps exploded around them.

Ten froze for half a second - shocked - but then the devil in him lit up like a firework. He grinned against Yangyang’s mouth, hands flying to his waist to steady him, and kissed back with just as much force.

“Oh my god!” Hendery screeched, scrambling upright. “I knew it! I knew it! I I WAS RIGHT!”

Dejun made a noise like a dying animal. “WHY are you on him like a horse?! Yangyang! Get off! WHAT are you doing?!”

Kun blinked. “Wait...hold on...wait...what is happening...WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

Yangyang pulled back from Ten, breathless, flushed, trembling with a cocktail of adrenaline and arousal and absolute panic.

Ten, completely unfazed, licked his lips and gave a smug little, “Surprise.”

Hendery was standing on the sofa like it was a stage. “This explains everything! The weird vibes! The disappearing acts! The silent stares across the rice cooker!”

Dejun held up a pillow between himself and them like it might shield his eyes. “I’m going to need brain bleach. I saw tongue.”

Ten rested his chin on Yangyang’s shoulder with a gleam in his eye. “So… now seems like a good time to tell you guys we’re together.”

Yangyang let out a hysterical little laugh. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hendery said, still grinning. “That was the best drama I’ve seen in months.”

Kun looked around helplessly, like he was glitching. “Are we still watching the vlog or…?”

Yangyang melted into Ten’s arms, hiding his burning face in his neck. Ten just rubbed his back with a smug little smile, clearly thrilled with how this all played out.

The room erupted in questions.

“How long?!”
“Who confessed first?!”
“Wait...have you guys...in the dorm?!”
“Who tops?!” (That was Hendery, obviously.)
“Is this why you borrowed my blanket?!”

Yangyang was visibly short-circuiting, perched in Ten’s lap, eyes darting like a terrified squirrel. Ten had gone from smug to stunned, holding onto Yangyang’s waist with one hand and swatting away Hendery’s questions with the other.

“Okay..okay! One at a...”

“Is this serious or just like, a phase?” Dejun asked, suspiciously eyeing their proximity.

“Can we all CALM DOWN?!” Kun shouted, clapping his hands like a camp counselor. “This is chaos.”

Everyone froze.

Kun looked around, exasperated but fond. “Look, it’s late. We’ve had wine. Yangyang looks like he’s about to pass out. Hendery’s doing cartwheels. Dejun’s clutching that pillow like a cross. Let’s just...shelve it. Okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“But..” Hendery tried.

“No buts,” Kun said firmly. “Let’s finish the vlog like normal people. We’ll grill them in the morning. Agreed?”

There was a beat of reluctant grumbling, but then nods all around.
“Great,” Kun said. “Play.”

The screen lit up again with a sunrise over the mountain ridge, Kun’s voice narrating a poetic bit about nature and silence and self-discovery.

And somehow… it wasn’t awkward at all.

Not really.

Yangyang slowly settled back beside Ten on the sofa - still red in the face, still a little breathless. But when he reached out and took Ten’s hand again, this time over the blanket, no one screamed. No one yelled. No one died.

It was okay.

He turned his head, kissed Ten once, soft and sweet and real.

Dejun gagged dramatically. “Seriously? During the emotional sunset sequence?”

Ten just flipped him off and laced their fingers tighter.

Yangyang bit back a smile and leaned against his shoulder, light and warm.

When the vlog had finished they all one by one left the living room for their own rooms. Dejun yawning and mumbling about needing “a spiritual cleanse,” Hendery threatening to “check for sex ghosts” in the hallway, and Kun tidying up like the human Golden Retriever he was.

Ten and Yangyang didn’t have to say anything. Didn’t need to exchange glances or plan some sneaky timing.

They just… stood up together.

Hand in hand.

And walked into Ten’s room like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And god, it felt good.

No hiding. No pretending. No more middle-of-the-night door clicks.

Just brushing their teeth next to each other. Folding down the same blanket. Sliding into bed, limbs tangled and relaxed, not desperate or rushed. Just together.

Yangyang fell asleep with a smile on his face and Ten’s fingers curled lightly in his hair.

The next morning came fast - schedule day. Early call times and studio runs. Everyone was milling around the kitchen in that sleepy chaos, Kun flipping eggs like a man possessed.

Then his eyes landed on Ten.

“Hey,” Kun said, voice too casual. “Can I talk to you guys for a second?”

Ten blinked. “Us?”

Kun gave him a meaningful look. “You and Yangyang. Just in private. Before we head out.”

Ten straightened a little, nudged Yangyang’s side. Yangyang, who had been spooning cereal into his mouth with one hand and texting with the other, looked up immediately.

“Did we…do something wrong?” Yangyang asked, slightly alarmed.

Kun gave a faint smile. “No. Nothing like that.”

But his expression was serious. And the energy shifted, just a bit.

Ten nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”

They followed Kun toward his room, hearts beating a little faster.

Kun shut the door behind them, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t quite sure how to start. Yangyang and Ten stood side by side, alert but quiet, Yangyang already bracing, Ten ready to bite if needed.

Kun let out a breath. “I’ve had the night to think.”

Uh-oh.

“I’m not mad,” he said quickly, hands up. “And I’m not here to scold you. But as the leader...” He looked at both of them. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.”

Yangyang’s fingers curled a little in the hem of his hoodie.

Ten crossed his arms. “Worried about what?”

Kun sighed. “About how this could affect the group. About what happens if things get messy between you. A fight’s one thing...but a breakup?”

That word landed hard. Yangyang’s face fell, color draining from his cheeks. He looked down, jaw tight.

Ten saw it instantly. His own chest clenched, and he stepped a little in front of him.

“Why are you already jumping to a breakup?” he said, sharper than intended. “We just started. We're not planning to crash and burn next week.”

“I know,” Kun said gently. “But can either of you tell me you’ve had a relationship that hasn’t ended?”

Neither of them could.

The silence stretched, and Kun nodded like he’d made his point.

But then, softly, almost too softly to catch, Yangyang said, “It can work.”

Ten looked over at him.

Yangyang straightened just a bit. “I know it’s not ideal. But that doesn’t mean it’s doomed. And we’re not stupid, we know what’s at stake. I wouldn’t risk everything for a fling.”

Ten’s heart stung at that, not from hurt, but pride. He turned back to Kun.

“And for the record,” he added, “Jaemin and Jeno from Dream! We all know they’ve quietly been together for years. No drama. Still touring. Still doing group stuff. Still killing it.”

Kun frowned. “Yeah, but that’s different..”

“How?” Ten pushed.

Kun didn’t answer for a moment.

Then, more quietly: “Because they’re not my responsibility.”

Yangyang softened. “We get why you’re worried. And it means a lot that you care that much. But...I think we’re stronger than you think.”

Kun looked between them, at Yangyang’s hopeful, steady face, at Ten’s protective stance.

He sighed.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. I just wanted to know you’ve thought about it. Not just... jumped in.”

“We’ve thought about it,” Ten said.

Yangyang nodded. “A lot.”

Kun exhaled slowly, arms crossed now. “Okay… so then I have to ask, how public are you going with this?”

Ten hesitated for a beat, but Yangyang jumped in first, shaking his head gently. “We’re not. Not really.”

“Just within the group,” Ten added. “You guys are the only ones who know. We just...” He looked over at Yangyang, who gave him the smallest smile. “We didn’t want to keep hiding in our own home.”

Kun gave a short, thoughtful nod. “Makes sense.” He leaned back against the edge of his desk. “So management doesn’t know?”

“Nope,” said Ten.

Yangyang bit his lip. “And we’d like to keep it that way… for now.”

Kun’s brow furrowed slightly. “And your families?”

“Also no,” Ten replied, then shrugged. “Not yet. That one’s a whole other conversation.”

Yangyang looked down at his hands. “It’s not that we’re ashamed or anything. We just...want this to be ours for a little while. Before it becomes something everyone has opinions on.”

Kun hummed. “You know if it gets out, it’s not just opinions. It’s headlines. Questions. Contracts, even.”

“We know,” Ten said. “We’re not naïve.”

“But we also don’t want to live like we’re doing something wrong,” Yangyang added, quieter this time. “Especially not around you guys.”

Kun looked at the two of them again. Ten steady and sure, Yangyang open but vulnerable. And more than anything, they looked like they meant it.

He scratched his jaw. “Alright. I appreciate you being straight with me.”

“Literally the only straight thing about me,” Ten muttered under his breath.

Kun groaned. “I walked into that.”

Yangyang flushed but laughed, the tension easing just a little.

“I’m not trying to make your lives harder,” Kun said.

“I just need to know you’ve thought this through. Not just the now, down the line, too.”

Ten’s voice dropped just a little. “We have.”

There was something in the way he said it that made Kun believe him.

Still, Kun wasn’t done. “So what happens if someone outside the group finds out? What’s the plan?”

Yangyang and Ten exchanged a glance.

“We haven’t... fully figured that part out yet,” Yangyang admitted, voice soft but steady. “But we will. Together.”

Ten nodded. “We’re not gonna let it blow up in our faces. We’ll be smart. Careful.”

Kun exhaled, then gave a short nod like that settled it for now. “Okay.” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly working up to something else. “And... look, I’m not trying to pry, but I kinda need to know how... involved this is.”

“Involved?” Ten echoed, brow raised, clearly enjoying himself already.

“I mean...how serious, how... physical..like... the level of... um..”

Kun started gesturing with his hands in the air like he was doing some weird tai chi . He flailed slightly, gave up, then gestured again like he was patting down invisible air.

Ten stared at him for a second, then deadpanned, “Kun, are you asking if we’re fucking?”

Yangyang made a strangled noise and immediately covered his face. “Oh my God.”

Kun flushed so hard his ears went pink. “I...well....I didn’t mean...just...ugh...yeah!”

“Well, we are,” Ten said cheerfully, leaning back on Kun's desk with zero shame. “Frequently. Enthusiastically.”

Yangyang let out a soft whimper behind his hands.

Then Ten, grinning like the devil himself, nodded toward Yangyang and added, “Can you blame me? Look at him.”

Yangyang sat on Kun’s bed now, let his hands fall to his lap and just slumped forward, face burning, mumbling, “I’m gonna die. I’m actually gonna die.”

Kun groaned, half-laughing despite himself. “Okay, I didn’t need that mental image. Seriously.”

Ten just shrugged. “You started it.”

“I did not start it like that,” Kun huffed.

Yangyang finally looked up, eyes wide and pleading. “Can we never have this conversation again?”

Ten wrapped an arm around his shoulder and grinned. “Babe, we’ll have way worse ones when you meet my mom.”

“STOP,” Yangyang moaned, fully hiding his face again.

Kun waved a hand “I need more coffee. And bleach for my brain.”

“Don’t be a prude! Sex is healthy!”

Yangyang elbowed him weakly in the ribs.

“Okay,” Kun said, exhaling. “Last thing, I promise.”

Ten shot Yangyang a look.

Yangyang just groaned into his hoodie. “Kun, please... don’t.”

Kun cleared his throat. “I just need to ask... are you guys, you know... being safe?”

Ten blinked innocently. “Like... not running with scissors?”

Kun gave him a look and gestured vaguely at the air in front of him, trying to mime something that looked like a balloon being inflated and immediately regretting it.

Yangyang buried his face in both hands.

“Condoms, Ten. Are you using them?” Kun said finally, through gritted teeth.

Ten’s grin widened. “Nope. We’re not.”

“Oh!’ Kun said shocked.

“We’re both clean,” Ten said calmly. “You know the company has us get tested regularly. And neither of us has slept around. Ever.”

Kun’s brows lifted. “Okay!”

Ten shrugged. “I’ve been with a few other guys, yeah. But always safe. And honestly!” He turned, flashing that wicked grin. “I’ve never stuck my dick in a woman....but I’m sure it's kinda the same and even you Kun can admit it’s a hell of a lot better without, right? I mean when possible.”

Yangyang let out a strangled noise like a kettle going off.

Kun’s ears went pink. “I...I mean...uh...look, yeah, but that’s not the point!”

“Pretty sure it is the point,” Ten said smugly, clearly enjoying every second of Kun malfunctioning.

Kun waved his hand like he was swatting away the entire situation.

“Okay! Okay. I’m done. I don’t need to know anything else about your...barebacking habits...kinks...whatever.”

Yangyang turned an impressive shade of crimson. “Kun!!”

Kun was already backing toward the door. “Nope. I’m tapping out. You’re both nightmares. Good luck to your future therapist.”

Ten threw an arm around Yangyang’s shoulders once Kun was out of earshot. “That went well, don’t you think?”

Yangyang glared up at him. “I hate you.”

Ten just beamed.

Kun was halfway out the door when he paused and turned back, fixing them both with a stern look.

“Alright. I’m glad we talked. I mean that. But we’re going to have a ground rules meeting tonight.”

Ten tilted his head. “Ground rules?”

Kun nodded firmly. “Yes. For the house. For the group. For... whatever this” - he gestured between them- “is. Before anything gets too chaotic. Or sticky.”

Yangyang groaned. “Oh my god.”

Ten smirked. “Too late for that one, bro.”

Kun didn’t take the bait. “10 p.m. Living room. Be there.”

He turned and walked off like a man preparing a PowerPoint presentation in his head.

Yangyang stared after him, mortified. “Do you think he’s actually gonna take notes?”

Ten leaned in, nuzzling against Yangyang’s cheek. “I think he’s gonna draft a sex spreadsheet.”

Yangyang shoved him. “Stop it!”

Ten just laughed. “I’ll color-code it.”

......................................................................................................................................................................

10:00 p.m. sharp, living room.

Kun sat cross-legged on the floor with a notebook and pen like he was chairing a shareholders' meeting. Dejun curled up in the armchair beside him, sipping tea like this was all somehow beneath him.

Ten and Yangyang sat on the sofa, close but not too close, with Yangyang already looking like he regretted his life choices.

And then there was Hendery.

Sprawled upside down over the other end of the sofa, legs hanging over the back, hair flopped to one side, one sock missing for some reason.

“So.” Hendery clapped once, eyes glittering with glee. “Let’s start with the real questions. Who bottoms?”

“Jesus Christ,” Yangyang mumbled, already going red.

Ten smirked, “Depends on the day.”

Kun choked. “HENDERY! That is not...”

Hendery ignored him. “Do I need to get noise-cancelling headphones? Like industrial grade? Or better yet, just blast opera until you’re done?”

Dejun winced. “I hate everything about this conversation.”

“Wait, wait, more importantly,” Hendery said, flipping upright suddenly. “Have you done it while I was in the dorm?”

Yangyang buried his face in his hands.

Ten, utterly shameless, tapped his chin. “Define while. Like… in the same building?”

Hendery gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. You totally have. You animals. And no one even offered me earplugs.”

“I will literally throw you out the window,” Yangyang said without lifting his head.

Kun rubbed his temples. “Can we please start with actual ground rules before Hendery creates a fanfiction outline?”

Ten raised a hand. “I vote Hendery has to wear a bell so we know when he’s coming.”

“NO!” Hendery shouted. “You should wear bells! I live here too!”

Dejun, eyes closed, muttered, “I should’ve stayed in China.”

Kun clapped his hands like a kindergarten teacher. “Okay. Okay. Enough. Let’s actually do what we came here to do.”

“Which is not talking about my sex life in front of my coworkers,” Yangyang mumbled into a throw pillow.

Ten rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “Too late, baby.”

Yangyang groaned louder.

Kun cleared his throat. “So. Rule number one: No...activities when other people are in the room. Or the shared spaces. That means no living room sex, no bathroom sex...”

“Okay, hold on,” Ten interrupted, leaning forward. “No bathroom sex? But what if I think I’m alone and then I find Yangyang kneeling in the steam like it’s the final scene of a romance movie but with way more spit?”

Dejun held up his tea and said, without looking up, “I will start drinking straight vodka if this continues.”

Ten blinked innocently. “Okay, fine. No bathroom. Unless we lock the door and triple check..”

“No!” Kun barked. “No more ‘unless’! Just…no!”

Ten gave him a lazy salute. “Aye aye, Captain Buzzkill.”

Kun took a deep breath. “Rule number two: No fighting in front of the group. No couple drama. No weird passive-aggressive nonsense during rehearsals. If you argue, settle it in private.”

Ten nodded. “We’re not dramatic.”

“Mm,” Hendery hummed. “Yet.”

Kun ignored him. “Rule three: Be respectful of each other’s space. If you’re sharing a room now, cool, but the rest of us still exist. Don’t monopolize the dorm laundry machines with your...sheets.”

Yangyang looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

Hendery leaned over to Dejun and whispered, “I give it three weeks before he tries to move out.”

Dejun nodded solemnly. “I give it two.”

Kun glanced down at his list. “And finally, rule four: be careful and discreet in public. But if this goes to hell, I’m making Hendery do all the interviews about it.”

“Sweet!” Hendery grinned. “Finally, the main character arc I deserve.”

Dejun muttered, “We’re all doomed.”

Kun put his notebook down with finality. “Meeting adjourned. Everyone go back to pretending you're not weirdos for five minutes.”

“Wait,” Hendery said, raising a hand. “So...you still haven’t told me who bottoms?”

Yangyang threw a cushion at his face.

But before anyone could move, Dejun raised a hand slowly, like weary teacher who’d finally had enough.

“One addendum,” he said flatly. “If I hear so much as a whimper, a moan, or even a suspiciously heavy exhale from either of your rooms while I’m trying to sleep, I will personally call your mothers.”

Yangyang let out an honest-to-god squeak. “Bro!!!”

“I’m serious,” Dejun continued. “I did not sign up to live inside an audio version of an R-rated drama. Also: no PDA. No making out on the sofa, no lap-sitting at breakfast, no feeding each other grapes like Roman emperors. Keep it Disney.”

Ten was unbothered. “What about Pixar?”

“Pixar?” Kun echoed.

“Yeah, like, subtle longing and tragic backstory but it still ends in tears.”

Yangyang buried his burning face in both hands. “I want to go home. I am home. I want to go somewhere else.”

Kun gave them all a long, exhausted look. “I need a nap.”

As everyone finally started to scatter, some grumbling, some laughing. Yangyang lingered near the table, still red to the ears. He felt Ten brush close, his voice dipping low and warm at his shoulder, just for him.

“By the way,” Ten murmured, lips barely moving. “There is no way on this earth that I’m giving up my sexy shower times with you. Let them buy headphones.”

Yangyang choked on air.

Ten gave him an innocent smile and strolled off like he hadn’t just set his entire nervous system on fire.

An hour later, the dorm had gone quiet, leaving Yangyang and Ten curled up together in Ten’s bed, the lamp on the desk casting a soft, golden pool of light.

They lay face to face, legs tangled, breath mingling in the space between them.

Ten had been quiet for a while, fingers tracing slow circles against Yangyang’s back. Then, suddenly, he murmured, “Hey…”

Yangyang blinked sleepily. “Hmm?”

Ten hesitated. “What Kun said earlier… about condoms. I keep thinking about it.”

Yangyang’s eyes opened a little more. “Okay…”

“I just...” Ten sighed, brow furrowing. “I never asked if you wanted me to use one. Not once. That was… careless. I got carried away. I always do with you. But still, I’m older, I should’ve been more responsible. I should’ve thought about your comfort too, not just...fuck, not just how good it felt for me.”

Yangyang frowned, reaching up to tuck a strand of Ten’s messy hair behind his ear. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t do that. It’s not just on you.”

“But it kind of is!”

“No,” Yangyang interrupted gently. “It’s not. I didn’t think to bring it up either. We were both… just in it. We’re both clean. We’re not sleeping with anyone else. And I… I don’t want to use one.”

Ten blinked at him. “You don’t?”

Yangyang flushed but held his gaze. “No. I feel closer to you like this. I feel… I don’t know. Wanted. Trusted. Connected. It’s not just sex....it never was with you.”

Ten stared for a beat, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he kissed him, slow and deep.

It was the kind of kiss that said I’m still here and you’re mine, anchoring them both in the chaos they'd just come through. Yangyang melted into it, hands curling in Ten’s shirt, his heart hammering like it was trying to escape his chest.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Ten brushed a thumb over the corner of Yangyang’s mouth.

“Mmmmm that was nice,” Yangyang whispered, dazed.

Ten grinned, eyes gleaming. “Yeah. Bet it’d be even nicer without our pants on.”

Yangyang groaned, face burning. “You ruin everything.”

Ten just laughed, soft and smug, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You love it.”

......................................................................................................................................................................

Their days were filled with rehearsals and recording sessions, choreography drills that made everyone groan, and long debates about vocal phrasing and harmony balance. Evenings were quieter, usually ending with everyone flopped around the living room with takeout, sore muscles, and half-finished conversations.

And at night, Yangyang and Ten simply… gravitated toward each other. No more sneaking. No more subtle glances or pretending to head to the kitchen just to follow one another.

They brushed their teeth together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sometimes they slept tangled up under the covers, sometimes just side by side, Ten’s hand curled gently around Yangyang’s waist as they whispered until sleep pulled them under.

It was easy. Surreal in its simplicity. And it felt right.

Of course, there was still Hendery.

“You two are officially boring now,” he announced one morning, leaning on the kitchen counter while munching cereal. “I feel like I live with a married couple and a man who’s ghosting real life,” he added, nodding toward Dejun, who was silently scrolling his phone, still half-asleep.

Dejun didn’t look up. “Also, I’m positive I heard suspicious moaning last night. Just saying. Not thrilled.”

Yangyang, halfway through making his tea, choked slightly. Ten didn't even blink.

“That was probably me moaning about my sore shoulders,” Ten said smoothly. “From practice.”

“Uh-huh,” Dejun said flatly, still not looking up. “Practice doesn’t usually sound like that. I don’t care what kind of warm-ups you’re doing, keep the spiritual awakenings to yourself.”

Yangyang was now pink from the ears down. “We...we weren’t! I mean...we just...”

Hendery waved him off, grinning. “Let it go, lover boy. The damage is done. Dejun’s innocence is shattered.”

“We’re just affectionate,” Ten added with a wink, giving Yangyang a soft kiss on the lips.

“Yeah, affectionate. That’s what we’re calling it now,” Hendery muttered, sipping his orange juice like it personally offended him.

Ten grinned. “Don’t be jealous. You’ll find someone one day. Maybe. If you ever stop being a menace.”

“Unlikely,” Dejun said.

Kun came in just then with a coffee in each hand and sighed. “Are you guys already starting? I haven’t even had a sip yet.”

Despite the usual banter and chaos, everything felt calm underneath. The tension that had once clung to the air was gone.

Ten no longer pretended not to care when Yangyang got teased too hard. Yangyang didn’t hide his smile when Ten said something stupid and charming at the same time. Everyone adjusted. No one made it weird.

They had gone public with their members and somehow it was fine. Better than fine.
......................................................................................................................................................................

A few days later they were all gathered together in a dressing room at the company, which was buzzing with activity. Stylists flitting between members, hair dryers whirring, steamers hissing, zippers zipping. Their schedules had been nonstop, but today was different. No dance practice, no vocal checks. Just polished shoes, tailored suits, and perfectly parted hair.

Tonight, they were presenting an award at a major award ceremony. Nothing physically demanding, but highly public. Cameras. Press. Fans. Lights. It was a different kind of spotlight, and the stylists were making sure they all looked immaculate.

The chaos of pre-show prep was finally winding down. The stylists were packing up their kits, lint-rolling the last stray threads off lapels, giving approving nods and final touches before stepping away.

An hour later and the members were scattered across the backstage room allocated to them - fixing their own collars, taking selfies, joking around as they waited for their time slot.

Ten had been watching Yangyang like a hawk since he came out of the makeup chair. His gaze was a slow, deliberate sweep from the tip of Yangyang’s polished shoes to the silver shimmer stitched into the collar of his suit. Yangyang had no right looking that expensive....and sexy.

So when the stylists gave them the all-clear, Ten didn't waste a second.

He caught Yangyang by the wrist and tugged him subtly toward the far corner of the room, behind a rolling rack of coats and garment bags. Just far enough from the others. Just close enough to be dangerous.

Yangyang blinked up at him. “What?”

Ten leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me in that suit,” he murmured, voice honeyed and low. “I swear, if we weren’t about to walk a red carpet…”

Yangyang shivered, instinctively glancing over his shoulder, but no one was looking.

Ten smirked. “You’d be on your knees already. Or maybe I’d have you up against that mirror, hands braced on the glass while I made you ruin that pretty shirt.”

“Ten...” Yangyang hissed, eyes wide, cheeks immediately flushed.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ten’s voice was all teasing now, one hand ghosting up Yangyang’s waist, barely touching, just a promise. “I can see it. You’d make those same breathy little noises you try to hide when the others are in the dorm…”

Yangyang covered his mouth, mortified and aroused at once. “You’re evil.”

“I’m devoted,” Ten corrected with a grin, brushing his nose against Yangyang’s cheek. “And completely obsessed with you.”

Yangyang tried to glare. It came out soft and overwhelmed. “Someone’s gonna see.”

“They’ll think we’re talking about styling notes,” Ten said breezily, pulling back just slightly. “Unless you want them to know you’re blushing because I said I want to bend you over a dressing table.”

Yangyang gave him a look. “You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Ten whispered, stealing one final glance at him, eyes dark and fond. “You just look too good, baby. I needed a taste.”

Ten winked and stepped back into the open, casual and cool as ever, like he hadn’t just cornered his boyfriend and whispered filth in his ear in a room full of their coworkers.

Yangyang was left clutching the lapel of his jacket, trying to remember how to breathe.

But just before Ten turned fully away, he leaned in one last time, his lips grazing the corner of Yangyang’s mouth - close enough to taste the gloss.

“I don’t care if the rest of them are home tonight,” he murmured, voice dark and low and completely serious now. “I’m having my way with you. Be ready for me.”

And then he was gone, rejoining the others like he hadn’t just set Yangyang’s entire bloodstream on fire.

Yangyang swallowed hard, eyes wide, knees a little weak.

This award show couldn’t end fast enough.

Just then there was a quiet knock at the door. The door opened to reveal the actor they were presenting the award to. Just a few years older, sharply dressed, immaculately styled, and oozing that self-assured charm that came with being a rising star.

“Thanks again for doing the honors tonight,” he said with a respectful nod to the room. “Big fan of your group.”

They greeted him warmly. Kun cracking a polite joke, Dejun offering a practiced smile. Yangyang, ever polite, bowed with his usual soft smile and a light, almost shy “It’s nice to meet you.”

And that was it.

That one moment.

Because Ten saw it, the way the actor’s eyes landed on Yangyang and didn’t quite move. He didn’t say anything inappropriate. Barely said anything to Yangyang at all. But his gaze dragged a second too long. Too interested. Hungry.

Ten’s jaw clenched.

Yangyang, of course, didn’t notice a thing, still smiling, still politely unaware that he was being looked at like that. Like a prize.

Ten moved closer, deliberately. Wordlessly. He slid an arm around Yangyang’s waist, firm and possessive, anchoring him with quiet claim. He didn’t look at the actor, just kept his face neutral, the curve of his mouth polite.

But his grip was a little too tight to be casual.

The actor flicked a quick glance at Ten’s hand - just a flick - and gave a small, polite smile. Then he nodded again, said he’d see them later, and stepped out of the room.

The door clicked shut.

Yangyang turned to Ten, eyebrows raised. “Was that the guy we’re presenting to?”

Ten didn't answer right away. His eyes were still on the door, narrowed slightly.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “That was him.”

Yangyang stretched a little, oblivious. “He seemed nice.”

Ten’s mouth tightened. “Sure.”

Yangyang didn’t catch the tone. Just smoothed his jacket and went to grab his phone, humming softly under his breath.

Ten watched him, jaw flexing..

Nice? No. That guy wasn’t nice. That guy was looking at something he had no business looking at like that.

The evening flashed by and the award presentation went off without a hitch.

They’d all been nervous backstage, but once the lights hit and the music cued, they slipped into their practiced charisma with ease.

Kun handled the mic with smooth confidence, Hendery looked like a prince, Dejun made a joke that actually landed, and Ten and Yangyang - standing side by side - were all smiles, flawless in their designer suits.

The actor accepted the award graciously, gave a short, heartfelt speech, and then they walked offstage feeling like kings.

Backstage buzzed with post-show energy. Stylists clapped, managers nodded in approval, someone from the company gave a thumbs up. They headed down the hallway toward their dressing room, laughter echoing as Hendery reenacted Kun’s dramatic award-hand-off like he was bestowing a sword.

Then Kun slowed. Looked around.

“Wait,” he said, glancing behind them. “Where’s Yangyang?”

They all stopped. Heads turned.

And there, a little ways down the hall, they saw him.

Yangyang was standing just out of the main foot traffic, talking to the actor from earlier. His body was turned slightly in, posture small and a little shy - hands tucked behind his back, smiling in that quiet way he did when he was flustered. His cheeks were pink.

The actor, just a few steps closer than necessary, was leaning in, speaking low, eyes fixed on Yangyang with unmistakable intent.

It didn’t look like a casual chat.

It looked like flirting.

Very successful flirting.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Dejun blinked. “Is he...?”

“He’s blushing,” Hendery said flatly.

“That’s definitely flirting,” Kun added, somewhere between amazed and confused.

All four of them slowly turned to look at Ten.

Ten’s smile was gone. His jaw tight. His eyes locked on the two of them.

And for a moment, the air shifted. They all watched in disbelief.

The actor pulled a small card from the inside pocket of his blazer, followed by a sleek pen. He scribbled something down - quick, confident strokes and then held it out to Yangyang.

Yangyang hesitated, just for a second.

Then he reached out and took it.

The actor smiled, then leaned forward and whispered something in Yangyang’s ear.

Yangyang gave a small, bashful smile, a giggle, blushing even more, eyes dropping to the floor like he couldn’t quite meet the actor’s gaze. He nodded, then turned and started walking back toward the others.

His cheeks were flushed. His hands fiddled with the card. He looked flustered, maybe even pleased.

He didn’t seem to notice the tension thickening in the air as he approached.

“Hey,” Yangyang said brightly as he reached them, still holding the card. “You guys walked off fast. I just, he came to say hi again.”

No one responded right away.

The four of them stared at him, unreadable expressions masking what they were actually thinking.

Oblivious, Yangyang walked past and opened the dressing room door like nothing was out of the ordinary.

They all followed him inside the empty room.

Yangyang plopped down onto the sofa, cheeks still faintly pink, waving the card between his fingers. “Okay...so, um...funny thing,” he said, a little breathless and giggly. “That actor guy? He asked me out to dinner.”

He looked around, grinning. “Like...seriously. Gave me his personal number and everything. Can you believe it?”

Silence.

The room might as well have frozen.

Yangyang’s smile faltered as he scanned their stunned faces. “What?” he said, awkward laughter bubbling up. “I wasn’t gonna say yes or anything...I mean, I didn’t even know what to say, it all happened so fast...”

But before he could finish, Ten stood. Not abruptly. Just enough to feel the heat simmering off him.

He brushed past where Yangyang sat without a word, his face tight, eyes unreadable - somewhere between wounded and furious.

“Ten?” Yangyang blinked, turning in place as the door clicked shut behind him. “Wait...what..?”

He looked around at the others, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, still holding the card like it might explain things better than he could.

Dejun was the first to speak, voice sharp and incredulous. “Seriously, Yangyang, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Yangyang flinched like he’d been slapped, the card still crumpled between his fingers.

Kun’s frown deepened, arms crossing slowly. He didn’t say much, but the look he gave Yangyang - quietly disappointed, like a teacher watching a student cheat on a test, was somehow worse than Dejun’s tone.

Yangyang’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. His ears were ringing. His heart thudded hard behind his ribs. He hadn’t meant for any of this to.

“I didn’t...” he croaked, voice barely audible. “I wasn’t gonna... I didn’t think...”

“No, you didn’t,” Dejun muttered.

There was a heavy silence.

Then Kun exhaled through his nose and said firmly, “Go after him.”

Yangyang blinked.

“Now, Yangyang. Before he decides not to come back.”

Yangyang scrambled for his bag in a panic, nearly dropping it as he yanked the zipper open and shoved the card inside without even looking. He flung the whole thing over his shoulder, not caring if it stayed shut, and bolted for the door.

He burst into the hallway just in time to catch sight of Ten turning the corner at the far end.

“Hyung! Ten...hyung!” Yangyang’s voice cracked as he sprinted after him, heart pounding, shoes squeaking on the polished floor.

“Please...wait!”

But Ten didn't slow down.

Yangyang’s chest tightened with every step as he ran, panic spiraling out from his lungs and gripping his throat. What did I do? His thoughts spun in frantic, disjointed loops. Why did I smile like that? Why did I take the card? What the hell was I thinking!

I love him.

The truth hit hard. Raw. Solid. Like running into a wall.

I love him. I love Ten.

And he’d just smiled at another man. Taken his number. Blushed like an idiot. God, what if he never forgives me?

His heart pounded too fast, thudding against his ribs like it was trying to escape. A wave of dizziness rolled over him, and he stumbled for a second, one hand brushing the wall to steady himself.

I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t even want the number. I didn’t even think...

But I didn’t say no.

The realization made his breath catch, shallow and useless in his chest. He couldn’t breathe properly. His throat was closing. His eyes burned. The hallway blurred.

Tears streaked down his cheeks, hot and silent. Please...just wait for me. Don’t walk away.

His voice came out again, desperate, breaking.

“Ten… please…”

Ten’s steps slowed at the sound of his name, sharp and desperate, echoing down the empty hallway. He didn’t stop completely, not right away, but his spine stiffened. Shoulders tight. When he finally turned, the look on his face stopped Yangyang in his tracks.

His eyes were burning. Jaw clenched. Anger written in every line of him.

But Yangyang could feel it, underneath the fury, there was something hollow and aching, a raw devastation barely caged behind that scowl.

Still, the rage was what hit first.

Yangyang faltered. His legs wobbled like they might give out. The hallway suddenly felt too long, too quiet, too exposed. His breath caught again. His heart felt like it was trying to crawl out of his throat.

Ten stared him down, expression unreadable except for that sharp, wounded fire in his eyes.

For a split second, Yangyang had the strangest thought - what if he slaps me?

He wouldn't. He never would.

But somehow, the guilt twisted hard in his chest, part of him felt like he deserved it. He wished for it. A slap might be easier than this silence, this fury, this distance.

Still, his feet moved him forward.

“Ten, please,” he breathed, voice wrecked and hoarse, eyes shining with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t...I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean..” His voice cracked. “Please don’t walk away.”

Yangyang stood there trembling, heart crashing painfully against his ribs as Ten stared him down in silence. The weight of that stare alone was enough to make his knees weak but it was the what if that hit him hardest.

What if it had been the other way around?

What if he had been the one standing across the hall, watching Ten - his Ten blushing and smiling while some handsome stranger leaned in close… scribbling their number on a card and slipping it into Ten’s hand like it meant something?

What if Ten had accepted it?

What if Ten had liked it?

The image bloomed in his mind uninvited, vivid and gutting. Ten’s mouth curling into that slow, dangerous smile he sometimes used when he was being charming. That soft laugh of his. The casual grace of his hands. The way he’d tuck the card into his pocket without thinking.

Yangyang’s breath hitched.

He would’ve been shattered. Utterly.

He wouldn’t have known how to breathe, how to stand.

His face crumpled as the realization crashed over him like a wave. The panic rose higher in his throat. More tears spilled down his cheeks - hot and fast and endless. He probably looked like a wreck: face blotchy, eyes red, his fancy designer suit all rumpled from running, his hair coming undone. A mess. A complete, pathetic, idiot mess.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, barely able to get the words out. “I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t even look at him like that, I swear...god, if it had been you...if I’d seen someone give you their number...” His voice broke again. “I would’ve lost my mind. I would’ve... I would’ve.....”

His chest heaved with the weight of it.

“I didn’t think how it looked. I didn’t think at all.”

Ten couldn't take it, not out here, not with Yangyang looking like that, falling apart in the hallway for anyone to see. His jaw clenched hard as his hands closed around Yangyang’s elbow, not gentle at all.

“Come here,” he growled, voice tight with fury.

“Hyung...” Yangyang barely got the word out before he was yanked forward.

Ten didn't give him a choice. He was too far gone - fueled by anger, jealousy, the sick twist of betrayal still bleeding raw beneath his ribs.

He dragged Yangyang down the corridor, away from the bright stage lights and echoing voices. Away from their members, the staff, the gawking eyes of anyone who might come around that corner and see his Yangyang sobbing like that, cheeks streaked with tears, suit all wrinkled, mouth still pink and parted from crying.

He couldn’t take one more second of it being public.

They turned a sharp corner and Ten’s eyes landed on a bathroom - blessedly empty, door slightly ajar. Without a word, he shoved it open and pushed Yangyang inside, pushing him in with a force that made Yangyang stumble back against the tiled wall with a startled gasp.

The door slammed behind them.

Ten stood there breathing hard, his hand still on the handle, the other clenched into a fist by his side. His eyes were blazing. His whole body radiated fury, but underneath that - it was breaking him.

Yangyang stared at him, wide-eyed and wet-faced, chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

And Ten, jaw tight, fists shaking, could barely hold it in. Because fuck, he’d never felt this kind of rage before. Not even when they fought. Not even when he was scared. This was different.

This was jealousy.

This was heartbreak.

And it looked a hell of a lot like love.

The lock clicked into place with a harsh snap, and before Yangyang could even process it, Ten was on him - like a storm breaking loose.

Two hands shoved against Yangyang’s chest, hard, and he stumbled backward with a choked breath. His back hit the cold tile wall.

“What the fuck, Yangyang?” Ten whisper-yelled, voice ragged with fury, eyes blazing. “What the actual fuck?!”

Another shove. Harder. His palms slammed against Yangyang’s chest again, pinning him fully to the wall now, and Yangyang could barely stand up under it. He didn’t fight back. Didn’t even raise his hands. Just sobbed - loud, messy, uncontrollable - as the guilt consumed him.

Ten’s breathing was wild, nostrils flared, hands clenched like he wanted to punch the wall. Instead, he turned away with a frustrated growl, ran both hands through his hair and yanked at the strands in pure desperation.

“What the fuck…” he spat again, like the words were acid on his tongue. “Fuck..fuck, fuck...”

He stumbled back and dropped down heavily onto the closed toilet seat, head falling into his hands, shoulders shaking with ragged, uneven breaths. Yangyang could only stare, frozen, as the sight of Ten breaking like this crushed his chest.

Tentatively, Yangyang took a step forward.

“Hyung…”

Ten exploded up from the seat like he’d been shocked, shoving Yangyang backward with a rough palm to the shoulder.

“No!” he shouted, voice cracking. “Don’t...don’t come near me right now!”

Yangyang stumbled, barely catching himself, eyes wide and wet, lips trembling.

Ten sank back down again, face hidden in his hands, silent now but still shaking.

And Yangyang - heart tearing open - dropped to his knees in front of him. No hesitation. No pride. Just pure desperation.

“Please,” he cried. “Please forgive me, hyung. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t think...I wasn’t thinking...”

His voice broke. His hands were shaking where they reached for Ten’s knees but didn’t quite touch. “I’m a fucking idiot. I..I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t even realize, I swear...I didn’t...please... please don't hate me.”

He was a wreck. Sobbing, kneeling on a bathroom floor in a designer suit, shaking from head to toe and every part of him just wanted to reach for Ten, to hold him, to fix this, somehow.

But Ten still wasn’t looking at him.

“Please,” Yangyang whispered. “Tell me what to do.”

Ten didn’t look up. His voice came low, raw, like it was scraping its way out of his chest.

“How the fuck could you do that to me,” he said, every word trembling with fury and something deeper, grief, maybe. “In front of me. In front of our friends. How could you stand there smiling and blushing while some guy flirted with you...and take his fucking number like I didn’t exist?”

Yangyang flinched like he’d been slapped. His knees ached from the cold tile floor. But he didn’t dare move.

Ten shook his head, still hiding his face in his hands.

“I thought this was something,” he choked. “I thought..”

His voice cut off, swallowed in the silence.

Then, to Yangyang’s utter horror, a quiet, broken sob escaped him. And another. It wasn’t loud, it was worse than that. It was soft and shaking and real. The sound of someone completely heartbroken.

Yangyang’s hand lifted, trembling, desperate to offer something, anything. But as soon as he reached out, Ten smacked it away. Hard.

“Am I not enough for you?” Ten spat, voice cracking open. “Is that it? You want someone better? Someone taller? Cooler? Someone who..”

He swallowed, eyes finally flicking up, glassy and furious.

“Maybe you do deserve better than me.”

“No.” Yangyang’s voice was sharp, desperate, instant. “No...please, no, that isn’t it. That’s not true.”

Ten looked away again.

Yangyang’s voice dropped to a whisper. Barely audible.

“Please tell me what to do.”

His hands hung useless in his lap, his whole body bowed like he was praying. He was. In his own way.

“Tell me what to do to fix this,” Yangyang pleaded. “Just..please don’t give up on me. Please.”

All that could be heard in the small bathroom were ragged breaths and the broken sounds of sobbing. The fluorescent light above them buzzed faintly, but even that felt muffled compared to the chaos pulsing in the air between them.

Ten finally broke the silence, his voice shredded and low:

“I just don’t understand why you would do that to me…” he breathed, staring at the floor like the answer might be written in the tiles. “I thought you…” His throat closed around the words. “Fuck.”

He stood up abruptly, the motion sharp and sudden. Yangyang didn’t move. He stayed kneeling, hands shaking, heart somewhere beneath his ribs, crushed and small.

Ten stared down at him, eyes shining - not with tears now, but something more dangerous. Something that burned.

“Yangyang don’t you understand, I’ve never opened my heart to anyone before,” he said. “And you treat it like that?”

He reached down, grabbed Yangyang by the arm, and pulled him to his feet. It wasn’t gentle. Yangyang stumbled.

“Get the fuck up off the floor.”

Then Ten shoved him back, flat against the wall again. Hard. His hands on Yangyang’s chest were burning hot, not from violence, but from emotion so big it was tearing him apart from the inside out.

“Don’t you fucking understand, Yangyang?” Ten’s voice cracked, his whole body trembling. “I love you.”

A breath. A bitter laugh. “I love you...fuck, I love you. I love you so fucking much that I can’t think straight.”

His eyes searched Yangyang’s face, wild and devastated. “I’ve never loved anyone before. Not like this. Not even close.”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “And you..”

But he didn’t finish the sentence.

He just stopped, stood there, chest heaving, lips parted. That last word, you, hung in the air like the final blow.

At the sound of those words - I love you - Yangyang’s head lifted like it had been pulled by a string. His eyes met Ten’s, wide and wet, his lips trembling around the storm building in his chest.

“Ten…” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m… I’m in love with you too. I’m crazy in love with you.”

His face crumpled as the words poured out in broken pieces, tumbling over one another.

“I’m just a fucking idiot,” he said, stepping forward even as tears streaked down his cheeks. “Please, you have to believe me. I wasn’t thinking...I was surprised, that’s all. But it meant nothing, I swear, nothing. I didn’t want him, I don’t want anyone...I just want you.”

He let out a small, choked sob. “I’m stupid. So, so stupid.”

His fingers clutched the fabric of Ten’s jacket now, desperate. His knees nearly buckled from the weight of guilt and fear, but he held on.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Please keep loving me. Don’t stop. I’m begging you, Ten… please don’t stop loving me.”

Ten looked him in the eyes - really looked and Yangyang could feel it, the fury draining from his body like a tide pulling back. It left something raw and aching in its place, but softer too. Forgiveness wasn’t there yet… but the possibility was.

“I love you too, Ten,” Yangyang said again, his voice wrecked and trembling. “I’ve never felt like this either. Please tell me I haven’t ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The tears came harder now, and Ten’s chest rose with a deep, shuddering breath. He stared at Yangyang, jaw clenched, throat working.

“You,” Ten finally muttered, voice low and hoarse, “are the biggest fucking idiot on this earth.”

But there was no anger in the words, just a cracked, exhausted kind of affection.

He lifted one hand and wiped a tear from Yangyang’s cheek with his thumb. Yangyang all but collapsed into him at the touch, the tension in his body breaking like glass. He leaned in, chest to chest, and Ten held his arms stiffly at his sides for a moment like he was still not sure.

“I’m sorry,” Yangyang whispered into the space between them. “Please. I love you. Forgive me...I’m sorry!”

And then, slowly, finally, Ten wrapped his arms around him - tight. Protective. Possessive. Forgiving. Yangyang melted into the embrace with a small sob, clutching the back of Ten’s jacket like he never wanted to let go again.

They stood there in silence.

Yangyang clung even tighter, pressing his forehead to Ten’s chest, his voice a broken whisper. “I won’t ever be so thoughtless again. You’re my everything.”

There was a beat of silence, then Ten let out a low breath, the faintest hint of a smile curling into his voice. “Yeah,” he said. But there was still a rawness to it, like the wound was still fresh, still bleeding, but starting to close.

Yangyang looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy, pleading. “Please kiss me.”

Ten just stared for a beat, unreadable. Yangyang’s breath hitched, panic threatening again, but then, in a heartbeat, that molten fire returned to Ten’s eyes, dark and blazing.

He moved in fast, no hesitation this time and kissed Yangyang like he was starving for him. Like the kiss was an answer and a promise and a punishment all in one. It was rough and tender, full of fury and ache and love.

Yangyang gasped into it, knees going weak, gripping Ten’s jacket with trembling fingers as his lips were taken, claimed, forgiven.

And just like that, it was like lightning striking - everything ignited at once.

The kiss was desperate, bruising, soaked in sorrow, but sparked something deeper, something hotter. The ache between them ignited, sorrow curling into flame, hurt melting into hunger.

Ten didn’t let go. He deepened the kiss until Yangyang couldn’t breathe, until their tears were forgotten in the heat. His hands roamed - urgent, possessive, as he backed Yangyang up blindly, their bodies colliding with the bathroom counter in a jolt.

Yangyang gasped, gripping the edge behind him for support, but Ten was already there, pressing into his space, chest to chest, hips to hips, like he was trying to sink into him. He loomed, dominant and shaking with feeling, lips brushing against Yangyang’s jaw now, his throat, his ear.

“You are mine,” Ten growled, voice low and wrecked. “You hear me, Yangyang? Mine.”

Yangyang’s only answer was a trembling moan, his eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed and utterly undone.

“Yes,” Yangyang gasped, head tilting back, lips parted. “I’m yours...I love you. I love you...” The words tumbled from him now, unstoppable. “I love you.”

Ten let out a broken sound, like the wind had been knocked out of him, and ran a possessive hand down Yangyang’s front - over his shirt, down his stomach and then straight over his crotch.

Yangyang jolted with a strangled noise. He was already hard, already throbbing beneath Ten’s hand.

Ten smirked, something primal in his voice as he leaned in to whisper, “I knew you’d be hard already. Always so desperate for me.”

“Yes,” Yangyang whimpered, nodding frantically, pupils wide and blown. “Yes.”

His hands fisted in Ten’s shirt. “I want you,” he panted, voice wrecked with need. “I want...”

And then it slipped out - raw and unfiltered.

“I want you to fuck me.”

The air went still, thick with heat and disbelief.

Even Yangyang froze, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe he’d said it. But he didn’t take it back. Didn’t look away. He just stared up at Ten, panting, trembling, eyes begging.

Ten looked at him like he was about to lose his mind, and growled low, rough with frustration and desire.

“We shouldn’t,” he hissed, voice barely controlled. But all reason had left him already, swallowed by the fire burning through his veins.

Without hesitation, he yanked off his jacket, the crisp fabric falling heavy in his hands. “Take yours off,” he ordered, eyes dark and intense.

Yangyang fumbled, cheeks flushed, fingers trembling as he peeled off his own jacket. Ten calmly hung both jackets on a hook by the door, his movements deliberate despite the chaos inside.

He stepped back to Yangyang, slow and purposeful. He undid Yangyang’ black tie and then his fingers brushed the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, exposing smooth skin beneath.

Ten’s hands explored freely, tracing the planes of his chest, the rise and fall beneath his touch, circling around taut nipples that hardened beneath his fingertips.

Then Ten leaned down, warm breath grazing Yangyang’s skin before his tongue flicked out to lick a nipple - slow, teasing, electric.

Yangyang’s breath hitched. His cock stiffened even more, swelling under the silk of his pants, the heat pooling low and urgent. A wetness gathered at the tip, pre-cum leaking out, slick and slickly warm.

Every nerve was alight, every sense sharp. The scent of Ten’s skin, the rough slide of his tongue, the steady pressure of his hands, it all washed over Yangyang, drowning him in delicious torment. He was already lost, completely undone.

Ten’s hands moved lower, unhurried but determined, undoing Yangyang’s belt with a practiced flick and tug. The soft clink of the buckle made Yangyang shiver. Then the button, the zipper, the slow pull of fabric and his cock sprang free, flushed dark, twitching, already leaking in Ten’s hand.

Yangyang gasped, hips stuttering forward helplessly. “Fuck...” he choked, head falling back as Ten wrapped a firm hand around him, the slickness smearing between his fingers. He teased him with slow strokes, thumb brushing the tip, smirking at every strangled sound Yangyang made.

Then Ten slid down his body, his breath hot, tongue flicking out to lap once, just under the head. A slow, deliberate taste. Yangyang nearly sobbed. “Please…”

Ten rose again slowly, his lips lingering on Yangyang’s skin as a soft whimper escaped him again.

“I want you,” Yangyang breathed, his voice trembling with need.

Ten smirked, leaning in to kiss him deeply, his teeth catching gently on Yangyang’s bottom lip in a tender bite. When he pulled back, Yangyang, on shaky legs, turned around without hesitation, letting his pants slip to the floor. He leaned forward, pressing his hands on the cool bathroom counter.

“Please, Ten... fuck me,” Yangyang’s voice was low, edged with desperation and longing. “I need to feel you... make me yours, please.”

Ten’s hands slid under Yangyang’s shirt, his fingers trailing up his back, skin warm and soft beneath his touch.

“Fuck, Yangyang... we have to be quick and quiet,” he warned breathlessly.

Yangyang’s voice took on a cheeky, desperate edge.

“Then let’s just get on with it.”

Ten leaned over him again, his voice low and fierce.

“I love you.”

With a sudden, reckless motion, Ten ripped open his own belt and unbuttoned his pants, the sound sharp in the stillness. He frantically pulled them down, just enough to free his cock, as he presented himself to Yangyang - hard, flushed, and aching.

His cock, sticky with pre-cum, rubbed slowly and deliberately against the slick cleft of Yangyang’s ass, heat radiating from their contact.

The slick friction sent electric jolts through both of them, every nerve alive with hunger and need.

Ten’s breath hitched, the rollercoaster of emotions - fury, love, desperation - colliding in a raw, urgent pulse that drove him forward.

Ten’s voice came desperate, breathless.

“Baby, I don’t have time to prep you properly!”

“I don’t care. I want it...please, just get inside me.”

Ten hesitated, concern flashing in his eyes.

“I don’t have lube…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Yangyang turned slightly and ran a hand down Ten’s chest, pleading.

“Please, Ten. I want you. I need you.”

Ten exhaled sharply, then spat on his fingers, slowly circling them around Yangyang’s tight hole. A low moan escaped him at the slick warmth, the vulnerability mixed with raw need.

But then Yangyang gasped softly.

“Wait...I have massage oil in my bag… for my shoulder.”

Ten stepped back reluctantly, feeling bereft as he pulled his cock away from Yangyang’s willing body.

His eyes darted around until he spotted Yangyang’s small bag nearby. He scrambled over, fingers fumbling until he found the tiny bottle.

Returning, Ten slid a steady hand down to the small of Yangyang’s back, anchoring him close.

“Fuck, Yangyang… I want to be inside you so badly.”

He poured a generous stream of the smooth oil over Yangyang’s ass cleft, his fingers expertly spreading it around the waiting hole. Pushing two fingers in. The slickness warmed under their touch, softening the tension, making Yangyang’s body sigh with relief and anticipation.

Yangyang’s voice was barely more than a breath, trembling with raw need and awe.

“I didn’t know I could want someone as much as I want you…” he whispered, the ache sharp but delicious, mixing with the slow flood of pleasure as his body began to open and adjust.

His hands tightened on the cold countertop, breath hitching as the pain melted into a deep, spreading warmth.

Ten’s eyes darkened, hunger and tenderness swirling together.

“Fuck me, please,” Yangyang begged, his voice cracking, desperate and needy.

“Move…I need it.”

Ten answered with a low growl, pushing his fingers in deeper - slow and steady in and out, each stroke sparking a fresh wave of heat between them. Yangyang moaned, the sound barely stifled against his forearm as his knees shook.

Ten's breath hitched. He leaned over, chest to Yangyang’s back, his voice a harsh whisper right against his ear. “You have to be quiet, baby. We don’t have time. This has to be fast.”

Yangyang nodded frantically, his fingers gripping the cold sink, trying to brace himself as Ten’s fingers left him. Ten’s hand trembled slightly as he smeared more of the oil down the length of himself, breath ragged. Pushing the bottom of his shirt out of the way.

“Look,” Ten growled, glancing up and Yangyang followed his gaze to the mirror in front of them. Their reflections were wrecked: Yangyang bent over, flushed and panting, lips swollen from earlier kisses; Ten behind him, pupils blown wide, hair sticking to his forehead, mouth parted in lust.

“Fuck, look at you,” Ten said, voice low and reverent and shaking.

“Look how sexy you are like this. I could lose my fucking mind.”

Yangyang whimpered, hips arching back toward him. “Then lose it,” he whispered. “Just…don’t stop.”

Ten pressed his cock against him, just the head, teasing along the rim. Then, with a shuddering breath and a hand steadying Yangyang’s waist, he started to push in.

They both whispered a gasp in unison.

“Fuck,” Ten groaned, voice shaking. “I hope you’re okay, baby, because I can’t stop...I can’t...”

His hips jerked forward, the tight heat stealing his breath and sanity in one brutal sweep. He wasn’t thinking anymore, not with words, not with logic, only with need, only with the maddening grip of Yangyang’s body pulling him deeper.

“God, you feel…” He trailed off, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he bottomed out, his fingers bruising on Yangyang’s hips. “Fuck, do you even realise how much I fucking love you?” he choked.

Yangyang let out a broken moan, forehead pressed hard to the mirror, breath fogging the glass.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, voice high and wrecked. “It’s so much...but fuck...it’s so good. I want it. I want all of it. I want all of you.”

The sting of the stretch made his thighs tremble, but it only sent more heat curling through his belly, heightening everything. Every nerve, every inch of him, screamed for more.

Ten’s chest was pressed to Yangyang’s back now, one hand sliding up his belly, the other gripping his throat - not tight, just there, grounding them both. “You’re taking me so well,” he rasped, thrusting shallowly, trying to hold on but already shaking. “So fucking perfect for me. Mine.”

Yangyang whimpered, stars blooming behind his eyes, lost in the pressure and the praise and the overwhelming relief of being wanted like this, claimed like this.

Yangyang blinked hard, vision hazy with pleasure, and lifted his eyes to the mirror. What he saw nearly undid him.

Ten - sweaty, flushed, lips parted and pupils blown wide, looking like a fucking god behind him. Shirt half-off, belt hanging open, hips grinding slow and deep as he pressed into Yangyang’s body like he owned it. Like he’d never let him go. His jaw was clenched, eyes locked on Yangyang with a hunger that looked feral.

The sight made Yangyang’s cock twitch, a fresh bead of precum dripping down it. He moaned and wrapped his hand around himself, helplessly turned on by how utterly wrecked Ten looked. How wild and in control all at once.

Ten caught his gaze in the mirror and smirked, sweat dripping down his temple as he leaned in. His voice was low, wicked and breathless against Yangyang’s ear.

“You like what you see?”

Yangyang’s answer was wordless, he turned his head, blindly searching, and their mouths crashed together in a messy, panting kiss.

It was teeth and tongue and desperation, wet and open-mouthed, Ten groaning as their lips slid together and Yangyang whimpered into him, dizzy from the stretch and the pressure and the sight of the man fucking him looking like his every fantasy come to life.

Ten didn’t stop moving - couldn’t - his hips still rolling, rhythm faltering now as the kiss pushed them both closer to the edge.

Ten’s hand slid down Yangyang’s abs, slick and sure, fingers curling possessively around his cock. “Mine,” he growled, pushing Yangyang’s hand away and replacing it with his own.

His grip was perfect - tight, practiced, hungry and Yangyang cried out quietly, hips jerking helplessly between Ten’s fist and the punishing snap of his thrusts.

Ten was close - so close. His rhythm was starting to falter, movements rougher now, ragged and erratic like he’d come undone inside the pleasure. His breath hitched, and he leaned in, voice raw in Yangyang’s ear.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come,” he growled. “Gonna fill you up with my cum.”

Yangyang was gone, eyes wide and glassy, moaning brokenly as his thighs trembled and his cock leaked freely into Ten’s stroking hand.

Every jerk of Ten’s hips hit deep, pulling a desperate noise from Yangyang’s throat. The obscene sound of skin slapping, the slick slide of oil and spit and sweat, the overwhelming heat, it was all too much.

Ten’s grip on his cock was relentless now, fucking into him hard and messy, hand pumping him in time.

Ten whispered, voice dark and trembling. “Want you to make a mess all over my hand while I fill your tight little hole. Show me, baby. Show me who you belong to.”

Yangyang shattered. His body tensed, as his orgasm slammed into him. His cock pulsed in Ten’s slick grip, spurting hot, sticky ropes of cum over Ten’s hand, over the counter, over himself. His legs nearly buckled as he choked back a moan, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stay silent, trembling violently as pleasure ripped through him like lightning.

Ten groaned deep, guttural, the sight and feel of Yangyang coming in his hand tipping him straight over the edge. His thrusts grew erratic, almost brutal, before he slammed in deep and froze, forehead pressed to the back of Yangyang’s neck, his entire body shuddering as he spilled inside him with a muffled, breathless growl.

“Fuck...fuck,” he hissed against Yangyang’s skin, biting back a shout, as pulse after pulse of heat filled Yangyang up.

They were both trembling, coated in sweat.

Yangyang whimpered faintly, still twitching.

They collapsed against each other, panting and trembling, Ten’s cock still twitching buried inside Yangyang, hands tangled, hearts pounding in perfect sync.

Ten leaned over Yangyang, breath still ragged, his chest pressed to Yangyang’s sweaty back.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, voice low and hoarse against the shell of Yangyang’s ear.

“Yes,” Yangyang gasped, still trembling in his arms, his body shivering with the aftershocks. “God, yes.”

He lifted his head slowly, and looked into the mirror - both of them utterly ruined. Ten’s flushed chest rose and fell, his hair damp and messy, face wrecked with emotion. His cock still rested deep inside Yangyang, the two of them connected and slick, the scent of sex thick in the air.

Their eyes met in the reflection.

“I really am sorry for what I did,” Yangyang whispered, voice shaking with more than just exertion.

“I know,” Ten said softly, without hesitation. He curled his arm tighter around Yangyang’s waist and slowly pulled him upright until they were standing chest to back again. He pressed a kiss to the side of Yangyang’s neck, then nodded toward the mirror.

“God, look at us…”

Yangyang’s eyes flicked up again, and his breath hitched. His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen from kissing, his body marked and open and claimed. Ten’s arm around him were possessive, reverent.

They stood there for a moment, chests heaving, hearts still racing, surrounded by the raw intimacy of what had just happened. The air was thick with the quiet aftermath of confessions neither of them could take back now. Not that either of them would have wanted to.

Yangyang let out a tiny, shaky laugh as he finally spoke.

“We’re so fucked.”

Ten pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Literally.”

But then his tone softened.

“Okay, gonna pull out now, baby.”

Yangyang whimpered quietly, his body giving a full-body shiver as Ten eased out of him slow and careful. A wet sound followed, obscene and quiet in the echo of the bathroom, and then...

“Jesus fuck,” Ten breathed, his eyes glued to the sight of his cum slipping out of Yangyang in thick, creamy drips. It glistened on the inside of his thighs, slicking down to the curve where ass met thigh, and Ten felt his spent cock twitch feebly, like it wanted to rise again despite everything.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost reverent.

His voice was low and ragged, awe mixed with filth, and he couldn’t stop himself from dragging a thumb, already covered in Yangyang’s cum, through the mess just to see Yangyang shiver again. Before he tucked his now soft cock back into his briefs, wiped his hands on a paper towel and fastened his pants back up.

“Baby. We need to clean you up.”

Yangyang groaned as Ten gently turned him around and helped him lean against the counter. His legs were still a little unsteady. Ten crouched down, grabbed a wad of tissue from the bathroom dispenser, and carefully wiped away the mess trailing down Yangyang’s thighs. It was slow and quiet and weirdly tender.

“I made a mess of you,” Ten murmured.

“I liked it,” Yangyang replied, soft and flushed, eyes half-lidded.

Ten huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“Yeah, well, the stylists might not.”

Yangyang winced.

“Fuck.”

He reached over to his bag on the counter top, pulling out a small travel pack of wipes and a black styling comb.

Ten lifted a brow.

“You carry wipes and a comb everywhere?”

“For emergencies,” Yangyang said. Passing the wipes to Ten.

Ten smirked.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I just got fucked against a sink. You don’t get to call me ridiculous.”

They both laughed, quiet and tired but the air between them felt warmer now, softened by love and relief.

Ten got out some wipes and continued to gently clean up Yangyang, his fingers slow and careful. Yangyang let him, eyes fluttering shut.

Then Ten stepped back and started trying to fix his own hair in the mirror, failing miserably.

Yangyang pulled up his pants, inspecting them for cum stains while watching Ten in the mirror, then gestured for him to sit on the closed toilet seat.

“Come here, I’ll do it.”

Ten obeyed, legs spread, looking up at him with that familiar heat still simmering under the surface. Yangyang ran the comb through his hair gently, fussing with it to make it look more styled than sex-ruined.

Ten watched his face the whole time.

“You’re being very soft,” he said quietly.

“You just told me you love me,” Yangyang said, cheeks still tinged pink. Then smirked, “you also fucked me against a sink when I asked you to. So I want to take care of you now.”

Ten leaned forward, resting his forehead against Yangyang’s belly.

“I’m sorry I got so mad. I just....”

“No,” Yangyang cut in, carding his fingers through Ten’s hair now instead of the comb.

“You had every right. I was an idiot.”

Ten closed his eyes.

“You’re my idiot now.”

Yangyang smiled, tears stinging again at the edges.

“Yours.”

Eventually, they were both redressed. Suits smoothed as much as possible, shirts tucked in, hair as neat as possible.

They checked each other for any obvious signs - swollen lips, love bites, cum stains - and did their best with what they had.

Ten looped a pinky with Yangyang’s for a second before they unlocked the bathroom door.

His other hand still held Yangyang’s black tie, twined loosely around his fingers like a keepsake.

He tugged it gently, leaning in close to whisper, “We’re taking this home. I’ve got… ideas.”

Yangyang flushed, breath catching, but his eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“You ready?” Ten asked.

Yangyang nodded.

“If anyone asks, I got emotional and had to fix my makeup.”

“And I came.........to comfort you?”

“Exactly.”

Ten smirked.

“That part’s not even a lie.”

They walked out together, hearts steadier but still tangled, something new and unbreakable stitched between them. And two of Kun’s rules broken already.