Chapter Text
A sigh escapes his lips as the hot water pours over his tense and tired body. Cascades over his shoulders, tracing down his back, over his arms, a gentle drum on skin fatigued by jetlag and relentless schedules. He closes his eyes, letting the heat seep into every tense muscle, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as the comfort holds him.
He moves with deliberate care, hands sliding through his hair, body wash lathering into a frothy embrace, shaving cream softening the hair on his legs as he traces each line with precision. Every action is quiet, almost meditative, washing away more than just sweat, melting the exhaustion clinging to him.
The door creaks open, letting out the fog that thickens the bathroom, leaving the mirror blurred like a half remembered dream. He begins the ritual, skincare caressing his cheeks, blow dryer breathing warmth into his hair, concealer painting over shadows that speak of sleepless nights and endless flights. A soft sweep of blush warms his cheekbones and his lips glisten under a touch of sheer gloss, catching the light as subtly as his jewlery.
He reaches for his clothes, each piece chosen with intent. Fabrics whisper luxury, jewelry catches the light with each movement, a handbag rests against his wrist like a crown, heels click with red bottom and last but not least spraying Valaya over his pulse points like an invisible promise. The smell that he likes.
Before he leaves, his eyes drift to the magazine lying on the nightstand. His own face glares back at him, on the cover HUANG RENJUN emblazoned in bold letters. The glossy image promises fame, recognition, a story everyone knows but he doesn't reach for that version of himself tonight. He lets the magazine stay untouched. He leaves as an unseen version of Huang Renjun, the one no one really knows.
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The city unfolds before him in a quiet, unhurried rhythm, seen through the tinted window of the Rolls Royce as it glides smoothly along the road. Inside, Renjun sits in composed stillness, eyes wandering without urgency.
And then he sees himself.
Not once. Not twice. A countless times. Everywhere.
His face watches him from towering billboards, from polished storefronts, from the glossy skin of magazines displayed behind glass. Larger than life, frozen in curated perfection, smiling in ways he doesn't remember smiling, gazing in ways he doesn't remember feeling.
But it isn't just him.
He sees them.
A band.
NOCTRA
Three figures stand againts the glow of the city like they own it. One grips a guitar with his veiny hands. Another rests a bass low against his frame, effortless. And last, the one at the center, holds a mic like he is ready to confess about the secret they locked beneath their skin.
Impossible to ignore.
His jaw tightens just slightly before his teeth sink into his lower lip. For a fleeting moment, something dangerous blooms within him. The city shrinks. The noise fades. The distance between everything collapses until there is only this. His own face scattered endlessly across the world and them towering above it.
As if the skyline exists only to hold them. As if the world belongs to no one else.
Just him.
And them.
The thought lingers, intoxicating in its quiet arrogance before slipping away just as easily as it comes. Renjun leans back into his seat, expression smoothing into something polished, untouchable once more.
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Here he is, arriving at the mansion owned by Lee family. The mansion stands tall and heavy under the night sky, glowing in warm gold light that spills from every tall window. Luxury cars after luxury cars arriving at the front, doors opening in quiet succession, red bottoms meeting stone, voices blending into a low, controlled hum. Renjun steps out and walks in without hesitation.
Tonight is just another business event hosted by the Lees. His parents are here too. Everyone important is here. Conversations are calculated, smiles are practiced and nothing is ever just casual.
Inside, the air shift, thicker.
Nothing about this place is simple. The walls are carved with intricate patterns, old and each detail layered over another like history refusing to be forgotten. Gold lines trace across deep panels, ceilings stretch high above with chandeliers that shines. Paintings sit in heavy frames, watching. Everything feels expensive but more than that, untouchable.
Renjun walks through it like it belongs to him. Because it kinda does. He knows every corner, every hallway, every turn. He grows up here just as much as in his own house. He doesn't need to look where he's going. He can walk through this place blindfolded and still reach exactly where he wants. His steps are steady, unhurried, like muscle memory guiding him deeper inside. And then he sees his parents. Over there, talking with Mr. and Mrs. Lee, the two who he sees just like as his own parents. Renjun takes a slow breath before approaching, smoothing his expression into something polite, something expected. He knows what this is. He knows what he has to be. Careful. Controlled.
He greets them, smiling easily, slipping into conversation like nothing sits beneath his skin. People around him welcoming him and he responds just as smoothly with a small talk, light laughter, the right words at the right time.
He doesn't look for them. He doesn't even try. He doesn't need to.
Until it hits him.
A sharp shiver crawls up the back of his neck.
It's definitely not the night air drifting in from the garden. He pretends not to care about it eventhough it presses into him, heavy. If it were arrows, he would have been dead by now.
But he can't take it anymore.
He turns his head to where the back garden is.
And their eyes finally meet.
Mark.
The Lee family's eldest son. Standing in the garden, next to a fish pond with a million dollar koi in it. A cigarette rests between his fingers as he exhales slowly, smoke slipping past his lips, dissolving into the air. His eyes never leave Renjun. Not even for a second.
On his left, the twins.
Jeno and Haechan stand close, wine glasses held loosely in their hands. Their gazes are just as direct, just as unapologetic. It doesn't feel like they're looking at him. It feels like they're pulling him apart, piece by piece, stripping him down without even touching him.
All three of them dressed in black. Shirts loosened just enough with three buttons undone and sleeves pushed back. It makes something tighten low in Renjun's chest. His throat dries, swallowing his own saliva was never this hard before. He has nothing to ease the tension building under his skin.
They don't look away.
At all.
He doesn't even realize when he excuses himself or how he ends up outside. The noise of the party fades behind him, replaced by something quieter. They get closer. Mark drops the cigarette to the ground and puts it out with his shoe, then shifts slightly to the side, leaving just enough space.
For Renjun.
Jeno and Haechan don't move. They stay exactly where they are, eyes still on him, watching every step. Renjun walks up to them and stops. For a second, no one says anything. Then he sits down between Mark and Jeno. Just like that. Like it's natural. Like it's where he's supposed to be. The space closes around him immediately, warm, close, familiar in a way that makes his chest feel tight.
He doesn't question it.
He never does.
He belongs here.
Mark bends down, his hand comes up naturally resting at the back of Renjun's neck. Like he knows where to touch. It sends something sharp down Renjun's spine. Mark leans in closer. Too close. Renjun can feel the heat of him before anything else. The faint scent of cigarette smoke still clinging, still fresh. It should bother him. But it doesn't.
"You are late." Mark whispers so close to his ears, his breath brushes against his skin.
It is indeed so embarrassing on how his body reacts when it comes to the brothers. Now, he even needs to bite his bottom lips for a second to stop himself to let out a shaky breath.
"Of course, I am." But this is Huang Renjun, he won't back off.
Mark giggles. "I like your smell."
Mark's lips brush his neck, he definitely does it on purpose. It hits him instantly, a sharp jolt under his skin, sudden and electric, like something snaps awake inside him.
Haechan sees it immediately, the way Mark's hand settles like it never left, the slow glide from Renjun's neck down to his waist, like it's muscle memory, like it's habit. His gaze drops to it without meaning to, lingers a second too long before he looks away, jaw tightening just slightly. It's stupid. He knows the rules. He agreed to them. But still--
"Miss me that much?" Renjun's voice cuts in, teasing, turns his head just enough to catch Haechan looking.
Haechan scoffs, leaning back like he couldn't care less. "You wish."
"Uhm..." Renjun hums. He pressed himself closer into Mark's hold, like he's testing it, like he knows exactly what he's doing. "Your pretty eyes won't leave me."
"I swear--"
"You are starring." Mark cuts in smoothly, voice low, almost amused, his thumb dragging once at Renjun's waist like punctuation. He doesn't even look at Haechan when he says it. "You've been doing it since he walked in."
Haechan clicks his tongue. "Yeah? Maybe I just forgot how he looks like."
This happened too back then when their schedules packed and made them not seeing each other for a few months. They always react differently when it has been too long. Mark, not sure if it's because he's the oldest, always be the most mature one, composed and steady. He never makes it obvious, not in the way anyone can see. But there's always something quieter beneath it, something he keeps so tightly controlled it only makes him harder to read. Jeno doesn't bother hiding it with his puppy eyes. It shows in the way he looks at Renjun--soft, open, almost helpless in its sincerity, like he doesn't know what to do with how much he's missed him. And Haechan. . .the most loud and dramatic about it. The first thing out of his mouth is never normal, always something sharp, something accusing like. "Oh? Who are you again?"
"So annoying." Renjun murmurs, softer this time, eyes flicking to him, holding for a beat longer than necessary.
Jeno exhales quietly beside him, the sound almost lost under the noise of everyone's chattering. He hasn't touched Renjun but the restraint is obvious in the way he sits, just a little too still, like he's holding himself in place. His gaze traces over Renjun slowly, carefully, like he's making up for lost time without breaking a single rule.
"You cut your hair. . ." Jeno says, voice gentle, but there's something heavier beneath it, something that says I noticed immediately.
Renjun turns to him, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You like it?"
Jeno's eyes soften, just a fraction. "I liked it before. . ." He admits and pause. "I like it now too."
Haechan groans quietly. "Unbelievable."
Mark huffs out a low laugh, still close, still unmoving from where he's settled against Renjun like it's the most natural thing in the world. "You're just annoyed you don't get to do anything about it tonight."
Fact.
"Oh, shut the fuck up." Haechan shoots back immediately, but there's no real bite to it, just frustration wrapped in humor, his gaze flicking--again--to Mark's hand.
Renjun notices. He always does.
His fingers tap lightly against the table, once, twice, before he leans just slightly forward--away from Mark for a second, just enough to shift the balance--and looks at Haechan with something that feels almost like a challenge.
"Maybe you should've asked nicely." he says.
Haechan blinks.
Jeno lets out a quiet breath that sounds a little too close to a laugh.
Mark's hand tightens, just slightly, pulling Renjun back into place like that moment of distance didn't even exist. "Don't start."
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The moment their parents come towards them, the air reshapes itself. Mark's hand leaves Renjun's waist as if it had never been there, his posture settling into quiet composure. Renjun mirrors him effortlessly, all elegance, all control, answering questions with an easy smile that reveals nothing. Jeno nods along, attentive, warm, while Haechan plays his part with practiced ease, bright grin, quick remarks.
Four perfect sons.
"You've all been apart for a while, haven't you?" Mrs. Lee asks.
Mark nods. "Schedules haven't aligned."
Renjun hums, light. "We're fixing that tonight."
It lands clean, harmless on the surface and no one thinks twice when Mark adds. "We should get going."
Jeno follows. "We'll catch up properly."
Haechan waves it off with a laugh. "Before we forget what he looks like again." Renjun flicks him a look that lingers just long enough to mean something and then they're excusing themselves, seamless, unremarkable.
.
They move as a line when they step out. Mark first, Renjun next to him, Jeno and Haechan trailing just a pace behind. Jeno's and Haechan's gaze on Renjun's back, settle there, steady, careful, like they're memorizing something they already know too well under that sheer fabrics. The look almost predatory.
"Get in." Mark unlocks the car with a soft click, opens the passenger door himself, one hand braced lightly against the frame as Renjun slides in.
Inside the car, Mark already reaching across, pulling the seatbelt over Renjun with a smooth, unhurried motion, his knuckles grazing Renjun's shoulder.
"This is hell!" Haechan screams with a long suffering sigh.
Jeno rolls his eyes, tired of his childish twin. "Oh gosh, stop it and say something nice! This is literally the first time we are finally all together in like five months!"
"You--" Haechan pointing his finger to Jeno. "--are supposed to be on my side!"
Renjun can't help it, he laughs, shoulders shaking just enough to give him away. He doesn't even bother hiding it, chin tipped slightly as he glances back at Haechan with something dangerously pleased in his eyes, like he's savoring every second of the youngest little breakdown. Of course Haechan missed him. Of course he did. Renjun knew it before he even stepped into the car. Beside him, Mark doesn't turn, gaze steady on the road but there's the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. His fingers tap once against the steering wheel, feeling glad that Jeno initiated to shut Haechan up because if he was the one who done it, Haechan would've been crying.
Jeno still looking at Haechan, raising his eyebrows.
Haechan shrugs. "I saw that shoot you did last month. The one with the black suit." he says, feeling somehow defeated.
Renjun tilts his head slightly, glancing at him through the mirror. "You mean the one you liked?"
"I didn't like it." Haechan shoots back immediately. "It was everywhere. Hard to ignore."
Jeno lets out a quiet laugh. "You saved it."
"No?!"
Mark finally turns to Haechan. "You were starring at that exact picture for ten minutes in a span of five minutes."
"How is that even possible you dumb fuck?!" Haechan makes them laugh out loud because of that.
Jeno nods. "You look sexy there."
Haechan groans. "Wow! Wow! Wow! How dare you, Jeno?"
"Thanks, Jen." Renjun says with a beautiful smile.
.
The car slows to a stop in front of the other huge mansion. The engine still running, headlights casting long shadows across the quiet driveway. For a moment, no one moves. The air feels heavier now. Like something is about to tip.
Haechan reaches for the door first, like he needs to get out before he says something he shouldn't. "Finally!" Already halfway out. "I'm tired of this."
"You weren't forced to come." Mark says calmly, not even glancing back.
"I know." Haechan shoots back, stepping out onto the pavement. "That's why it's worse."
Jeno lingers a second longer, leaning forward slightly, his arm coming up to rest along the back of Renjun's seat again--closer this time, like he's letting himself have just a little more. "Text us when you get back." he says softly.
Renjun turns his head toward him. "I will."
"Bye!" Jeno says, gentle, but there's something underneath it now. Something that wasn't there earlier.
Renjun holds his gaze for a second too long.
Then the window slides down.
"Come here."
Jeno doesn't hesitate. He's there immediately, hand bracing against the car door as he leans in and this time, when Renjun meets him halfway, his hand comes up, fingers settling at the side of Jeno's neck, warm. The kiss is still short--supposed to be--but the way Renjun holds him there for that brief second makes it feel like more, like something deeper, something that lingers even after they pull apart. Jeno exhales softly, eyes still on him, like he's trying to memorize the moment before letting it go.
"Goodnight." he murmurs, quieter than before.
Haechan watches all of that from a few steps away, arms crossed, jaw tight, like he's been personally offended by the entire situation.
"You're going to hell with me, twin." he says, shaking his head.
Renjun glances at him, eyebrow lifting slightly. "Are you coming or not?"
Haechan scoffs.
"No?"
"No! I--" he cuts himself off, stepping closer anyway, like his body has already decided for him. "This is stupid."
"Then don't?" Renjun says, calm, unmoved.
Haechan stares at him for a second.
Then another.
And then,
"Fuck it." he mutters, leaning in but this time is different. Not rushed. Not defensive. Renjun's hand finds him the same way, fingers sliding lightly to the side of his neck, holding him there just enough to make it real and Haechan kisses him back, quick but firm, like he's been holding in longer than he wants to admit.
When he pulls away, he doesn't retreat immediately. "I missed you." he says, quieter now, almost like it slipped out before he could stop it.
Renjun smiles, slow, knowing. "I missed you, Haechan."
Haechan's eyes find Mark who is watching, making him clicks his tongue, turning away quickly. “Have fun."
Then twins glance back for once more. Watching the car slowly disappears from their sight.
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The car is quiet like the world has stepped back just to give them space. Renjun leans his head lightly against the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of gold and shadow but he isn't really seeing any of it. His thoughts are somewhere else entirely. Already inside that apartment he knows too well. The low lights, the quiet rooms, the musky scent that always clings to Mark's space.
None of this is new.
But still, the anticipation heavy on his chest, unravelling him piece by piece.
He shifts slightly, fingers flexing against his own palm before he realizes he's doing it, like his body is trying to release something his mind refuses to name. It's ridiculous. He knows exactly how this night is going to go. He knows Mark, the way he moves, the way he touches, the way he takes his time like he has all the control in the world. And maybe that's the problem.
Renjun exhales softly, almost annoyed at himself.
"You're quiet." Mark's voice interrupting. "Everything's ok?"
Renjun doesn't look at him immediately. "Am I?"
"Nervous?"
Renjun wants to throw up.
He looks at Mark properly now, eyes narrowing just a fraction, something amused flickering back into place like armor. "About what?"
"I don't know? You tell me."
"I didn’t say I was." Renjun murmurs.
"I didn't say you were either."
The car is getting slower as the traffic light turns red.
Mark takes Renjun's hand without a word, his thumb brushing slow, strokes across his skin. Then he lifts it and brings it closer.
His eyes never leave Renjun's.
Not for a second.
The first kiss lands soft against his knuckles, gentle. But the way Mark watches him through it makes it feel heavier than it should. Renjun's breath catches, his throat tightening as he swallows, the reaction immediate and impossible to hide under that steady gaze.
Mark doesn't stop.
Another kiss.
Then another.
Each one slower, lingering just enough to let it sink in, his grip firm enough to keep Renjun exactly where he wants him. And still--his eyes stay locked on Renjun's, calm, focused, like he's taking in every shift, every breath, every tiny crack in his composure. Making Renjun's mouth goes dry.
"You don't have to think so much." Mark adds quietly, eyes on the road, voice even but softer than before. "You’re with me."
"Mark."
"Yes, baby?"
"Kiss me." Renjun says it almost like a whisper.
Mark doesn't offer a verbal reply. He doesn't even look at the road. He throws the gear into park with a mechanical thud that echoes in the quiet cabin. His right hand shoots out, fingers splay wide across the pale column of Renjun's throat. His thumb hooks firmly under the jawline, forcing Renjun's head back until it hits the headrest.
"You always pick the worst times to ask." Mark mutters, his breath ghosts over Renjun's lips.
"Then make it worth the risk." Renjun counters, his eyes flutter shut.
Mark lunges across the center console. Their mouths collide with a wet, bruising force that forces a startled huff of air from Renjun's lungs. It isn't a gentle exploration--it is a desperate, messy reclamation. Mark's tongue swipes across Renjun's bottom lip, demanding entry with a low growl that vibrates against Renjun's teeth. When Renjun opens for him, the intrusion is deep and rhythmic.
The sound of their mouths working together fills the small space. A slick, squelching friction of tongues sliding against one another, the rhythmic shlicking of saliva being exchanged. Mark's fingers tighten on Renjun's neck, his nails graze the sensitive skin at the nape, grounding the smaller man as the world outside the tinted glass ceases to exist. Renjun's hands scramble for purchase, bunching the fabric of Mark's shirt, pulling him closer until the center console is a painful obstacle between their mounting heat.
A broken, high-pitched moan escapes Renjun, muffled by the weight of Mark's mouth. Mark sucks on Renjun's tongue, pulling the muscle into his own mouth with a firm, vacuum-like pressure that makes Renjun's toes curl inside his shoes. A string of hot saliva connects them as Mark pulls back for a fraction of a second, only to dive back in, his teeth catching on Renjun's lower lip and dragging across the sensitive flesh.
"Please, Mark, more." Renjun whimpers against his lips, his chest heaves.
"The light's going to change." Mark rasps, though he doesn't move, his tongue instead traces the ridges of Renjun's palate in a slow, torturous stroke.
"I don't care. Don't stop." Renjun pleads, his voice a ragged edge of desperation.
The red glow illuminating the dashboard suddenly flickers and dies, replaced by a harsh, unforgiving emerald green.
Mark pulls away instantly, the sound of their lips parting like a wet seal breaking. He doesn't linger. His hand retreats from Renjun's neck, leaving the skin there tingling and cold in the sudden absence of heat.
"Mark. . ." Renjun whines.
"The light is green, Renjun. Sit back." Mark says, his voice flat, his eyes snap back to the rearview mirror.
"You better drive fast." Renjun's voice trembling as he bites his lip, tasting the copper tang of a small tear Mark's teeth leave behind.
"Keep your eyes on the road and your mouth shut until we get home." Mark commands, his hands back on the wheel, though his chest still rises and falls with the same violent rhythm as Renjun's.
Oh.
Renjun stares at him, his pupils blown wide, the ache in his lower belly throbs with every rotation of the wheels. That hasn't been enough. It has been a tease, a cruel sample of a meal he is now starving for. He watches the muscle in Mark's jaw twitch, knowing the drive home will be the longest ten minutes of his life.
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The Porsche Panamera's engine ticks, cooling in the subterranean gloom of the basement. Mark doesn't wait. He throws the door open, his boots striking the concrete with a rhythmic thud. Renjun out the passenger side, his smaller steps echoing as he chasing the broad set of Mark's shoulders. The air between them taste of ozone and unspoken threats. Renjun knows that look--the rigid set of Mark's jaw, the way his knuckles stay white. He is holding in.
"Mark." Renjun pants, his voice sounds so desperate, catching up just as they reach the elevator.
Mark doesn't turn. The silver doors slide open and the moment they are enclosed in the brushed-metal cube, Renjun goes up on his tiptoes, his fingers clawing at Mark's lapels, seeking the heat of his mouth.
Mark catches him by the throat, pinning him against the handrail. His eyes dark as night, flicks up to the glowing red eye in the corner. "Do you want them to see us, Renjun? Do you want the security team to watch me break you here?"
Renjun gasps, his breath hitching as Mark's grip tightened just enough to be a promise. "Let them watch."
Mark's hand moves from Renjun's throat to his cheek, his thumb digging into the hinge of his jaw, forcing his mouth open slightly. "Stop this. You only get to be a whore for me. For us. Remember that."
The chime signals their arrival. The doors open directly into the sprawling penthouse living room. Mark doesn't walk, he drags Renjun inside. He spins Renjun around, crushing his lips against the younger man's in a kiss that tastes of longing and desperation. His hand clamps around Renjun's neck again, fingers constricting the windpipe as he growls into the kiss.
"You’ve been testing my fucking patience all night." Mark hisses, his voice gives a low vibration against Renjun's lips. "Acting like a horny little brat in front of everyone."
Renjun's hand drifts down, fumbling with the heavy metal of Mark's belt buckle, his palm brushing the massive, rigid length of Mark's cock through the expensive fabric of his trousers. Mark grabs his wrist with bruising force, twisting it back.
"You know the rules, baby." Mark warns him, his eyes flashing.
Mark shoves him toward the couch near a massive floor-to-ceiling window. Beyond the glass, the city was a carpet of shimmering lights. The AC hummed, blowing a chill across Renjun's skin as Mark ripped the buttons from his shirt. The fabric fluttered to the floor, leaving him shivering and exposed. Mark doesn't give him time to adjust. He leans in, his tongue swirling around Renjun's nipple before biting down hard.
"Mark. . ." Renjun's back arched, his hands reaching instinctively for Mark's dark hair.
"Get your hands off me." Mark's voice a low growl. He grabs Renjun's shirt on the floor and wraps the sleeves around Renjun's wrists, knotting them tight behind his back. "You're all mine. No touching until I let you."
Mark steps back just long enough to free his cock. It sprang out, thick, weeping a bead of pre-cum at the tip. He grabbed Renjun by the hair, yanking his head back and down. "Take it all."
Renjun swallows, his eyes watering as Mark shoved the head of his cock past his teeth. It was too much, too fast. Mark began to fuck his mouth, his hips snapping forward with a relentless rhythm. The sound of wet suction filled the room, punctuated by Renjun's muffled gags. Mark's thumb pressed into Renjun's throat, making him swallow the thick length of him over and over.
"Look." Mark commands, pulling out his cock covered with Renjun's saliva. He spins Renjun around, slamming his chest against the cold glass. "Look at the city. Imagine if they could see you right now. Imagine them seeing how helpless you are under me. My little whore."
Mark spits on his own cock as if the lube isn't enough. He drives into Renjun's tight heat in one forceful lunge. Renjun screamed against the glass, a high-pitched moan, his breath fogging the window as Mark's weight crushed him. The friction was intense, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.
"You like being used like this, don't you?" Mark growls, his hands wrapping around Renjun's neck from behind, pulling his head back so their eyes meet in the reflection. "My personal fuck toy."
Mark's thrusts are shallow and rapid, then deep and soul crushing. Renjun's legs begin to shake, his knees threatening to buckle. He has already came twice, the friction of his own body against the glass pushing him over the edge, his cum streaking down the transparent wall. He loses his voice, his moans turning into silent, open-mouthed gasps as Mark's pace becomes frantic. Mark reaches down and deliveres a sharp smack to Renjun's ass. "Louder."
Renjun cries out, a strangled moan that was half pain, half pleasure, his body convulsing against the glass. Mark grabs his hips, lifting him slightly, then slamming him back down onto his cock with brutal force. Renjun's head lolls back, his eyes rolling into his head.
"That’s it, baby." Mark whispers, his voice gives Renjun shivers. "Give me everything. Be my good little whore."
With a guttural roar, Mark buries himself deep, his balls slapping hard against Renjun's twitching thighs as he filled him with hot, pulsing come. He holds him there, pins against the window, until the tremors disappears.
When Mark finally withdraws, Renjun collapses onto the rug. The silence of the room is suddenly shattered by a jagged, heavy sob. Renjun curls into a ball, the tears streaming down his face, his bound hands shaking. It isn't pain, it was the total collapse of his defenses, a release of everything. A loud cry escapes him.
Mark's expression shifts instantly. The hardness in his eyes melts into a fierce, protective warmth. He kneels, untying the shirt from Renjun's wrists. "I got you, baby. It's okay."
With tears running down his cheeks, Renjun looking at Mark, trying to find something. His hands slowly up hanging in the air.
Mark nods, smiling to make sure everything's alright. "Hug me, baby."
He gathers the sobbing man into his arms, kissing the salt from his cheeks with infinite tenderness. He whispers soft, grounding words as he lifts Renjun's limp body, carrying him toward the bedroom. Renjun clings to him, his sobs quieting into soft whimpers, burying his face in Mark's neck, the last vestiges of the rough play fading into the comfort of his embrace. "Mark. . ."
"I'm here, baby. I'm here."
Not the Mark the world knows--the one with his name lit up on billboards, his voice echoing through crowds that don't really know him. Not the one people watch from a distance, untouchable, larger than life. Just Mark. The one Renjun grew up with, the one who knows the quiet parts, the small habits, the things no one else ever notices. The one who looks at him like nothing has changed, even when everything has. And maybe that's why, when Renjun says it--soft, certain, like it's always belonged to him--it still feels the most real.
"My Mark." He hums, a soft, broken sound.