Work Text:
Lee Sang-hyeok has been kissed before. Just never like this.
He’s been kissed with passion and desperation, each breath heavy with lust. He’s been pinned against the mattress, his mouth ravaged. He’s been trapped between tangled sheets and a warm body, his lips bitten and his tongue claimed. He’s felt his neck marked by teeth far sharper than his own, his nape bitten and left wet and aching in the heat of rut. But… he’s never been kissed like this before.
Softly.
Gentle, delicate kisses, shyly placed at the corners of his lips. Feather-light pecks, barely there, as if testing the waters. Nervous kisses that linger on his smile, treating it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world—so precious it must be kissed with infinite care, preserved at all costs.
So soft.
Choi Hyeon-jun kisses him with the tenderness of a lover afraid to break the magic with one wrong move. Between kisses, his eyes flutter open to check on him, searching Sang-hyeok’s expression to see if the beta still welcomes this intimacy, if he’s enjoying it, if he should stop.
Hyeon-jun’s hands rest hesitantly on the mattress and in his lap, fingers twitching with restrained eagerness. They brush against Sang-hyeok’s thigh in nervous, fleeting touches, betraying the younger beta’s hesitancy to close the distance. He wants to touch him—Sang-hyeok can tell—but he’s holding back, afraid to go too far.
But Sang-hyeok wants to be touched, too.
So he makes the first move, his hand reaching up to rest on Hyeon-jun’s cheek. His smile widens as he feels the beta melt into his touch, the tension dissolving in an instant, leaving only the warmth, that softness between them.
And that seems to give Hyeon-jun the courage to move. His hand finally leaves his own lap, moving slowly, fingertips lightly grazing the fabric of Sang-hyeok’s uniform pants. The touch is fleeting but deliberate, leaving a warm trail in its wake until it settles at his waist. It’s barely there, the softest of touches, and yet… it makes Sang-hyeok’s heart skip a beat.
Hyeon-jun’s lips part from his, lingering close enough for their breaths to mingle, as his forehead rests against Sang-hyeok’s. There’s vulnerability in those eyes—a palpable nervousness. Too afraid to let go. Too afraid to move forward.
“Is… is this okay, hyung?” he asks softly, his hand clasping gently at Sang-hyeok’s waist. Can I truly touch you? he seems to be asking without words.
Try as he might (and he did try), Sang-hyeok can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of him.
“Wha—? Why are you laughing at me, hyung?!” Hyeon-jun asks, distressed, his eyes wide and his voice cracking slightly. Even with his own eyes squeezed shut and a hand covering his mouth to stifle the sound, Sang-hyeok can picture his face. He must be flushed, the blush creeping all the way to the tips of his ears.
“I’m… I’m not laughing at you, Hyeonie, I swear!” Sang-hyeok manages between soft chuckles. And it’s true. He isn’t laughing at him, not really. Now he understands Wang-ho’s frustration all those years ago when he’d hesitated to touch him. He’s laughing at his younger self—at the shyness, the hesitation, the obliviousness. At the inexperience. “I promise, I’m not laughing at you,” he says again, his voice gentler now as his hands move to cup Hyeon-jun’s flushed cheeks.
God, he does look like a squirrel, Sang-hyeok realizes with a grin as he locks eyes with his new toplaner. The fans were right.
Hyeon-jun’s cheeks are redder than the T1 logo embroidered on their uniforms, and his big, nervous smile only adds to the effect. His gaze keeps darting away, unable to hold eye contact for long. He’s just… ugh, so adorable. So ridiculously adorable that Sang-hyeok can’t help but want to kiss him.
And, oh, yeah… he can do that. A voice in his head, a bit too excited, screams at the realization— He can do that now!
So he does.
His hands guide Hyeon-jun closer, leaving no time for him to overthink it any further; and when their lips meet again, it’s perfect. It’s warm and soft and grounding, and it’s everything Sang-hyeok didn’t know he needed. The kiss starts tender, almost hesitant, but it deepens quickly—thank god! Because he was starting to go crazy over here. Sang-hyeok lets his hands glide past the toplaner’s shoulders, feeling the way Hyeon-jun responds in kind. His grip tightens slightly at Sang-hyeok’s waist before his hand begins to creep toward his back, pulling him closer, as though letting go might make him disappear.
Sang-hyeok can feel Hyeon-jun leaning in more and more, practically pressing him down. He takes the hint and lets himself fall back onto the mattress, pulling Hyeon-jun down with him. The slight bounce of the bed earns a small, breathy moan from the younger beta, and it sends a shiver through Sang-hyeok’s body. He takes the opportunity to gently tug at Hyeon-jun’s bottom lip, silently asking for more.
And more is exactly what he gets.
Hyeon-jun seems to have finally come to terms with the fact that yes, this is happening—he is, in fact, making out with Lee “Faker” Sang-hyeok. He is, in fact, in the Unkillable Demon King’s bed. And no, this is not a dream—though it’s eerily similar to a few he’s had before.
So he kisses him like he’s always dreamed of, like he always promised himself he would if he ever got the chance. His hands move instinctively, exploring the broadness of Sang-hyeok’s back, fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths over the fabric of his shirt. One hand settles at the nape of his neck, threading through Sang-hyeok’s hair with gentle, almost reverent strokes. It’s not a pull, just a touch—a soft, grounding presence that tickles just enough to make Sang-hyeok smile into the kiss. It feels good, he thinks, makes him feel like a cat being petted.
Sang-hyeok lets out a low hum, his hands crossing at Hyeon-jun’s shoulder blades before pulling him impossibly closer, allowing the younger beta to settle between his legs. Every inch of contact feels electric, sending waves of warmth coursing through his entire body. He’s been kissed and held before, but never like this—never this softly.
He’s been touched and caressed until red, angry marks were left on his pale skin. He’s been pinned by his wrists against the mattress, felt hands grab him by his throat over bitemarks that branded him. And yet, somehow, this feels different. It feels like something he’s been missing, something he knew he craved but could never quite define; like an itch in his brain he could never reach, let alone scratch.
And it’s not like he doesn’t want more—oh, he does —but somehow, this is enough. Just being here, like this, with Choi Hyeon-jun, feeling his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breaths. It’s overwhelming in the best way. He doesn’t want him to stop.
And as if he’d read his mind, Hyeon-jun does. Stop, that is. He lets him go for a moment, slightly pulling back from where they were, and Sang-hyeok almost panics. His hands instinctively reach out, gently pulling him back, trying to steal one more kiss, but Hyeon-jun’s voice stops him.
“Ah, hyung, gimme a sec,” he says, leaving one last tiny kiss on his lips. That nervousness creeps back into his tone, as if he doesn’t want to stop either but just has to.
Reluctantly, Sang-hyeok lets him go, bracing himself to see Hyeon-jun get up—maybe even leave to head back to his own room. But no. Choi Hyeon-jun stays right where he is, perched atop him. Instead of leaving, he reaches up and removes his own glasses, placing them neatly on the nightstand.
“And these too…” he whispers to himself, carefully sliding Sang-hyeok’s glasses from his face and setting them aside.
It’s such a small gesture, the bare minimum of courtesies, and yet Sang-hyeok’s heart feels like it’s run a marathon. His cheeks are hot, flushed, and a part of him wants to laugh at how ridiculous it all is. He’s too old to be reacting like this; he’s not some teenager sneaking a boy into his room while his dad’s out of the house—not that he’d know much about that, but still!
That cynical voice in his head is silenced when Hyeon-jun leans back down, cradling into his arms and settling between his legs again. But this time, he doesn’t kiss him—not the way Sang-hyeok expected. Instead, Hyeon-jun presses tiny, soft kisses to his eyelids, fluttery and barely there. Then to his cheekbones. And finally to the corners of his lips.
And it’s so…
“Hyung,” Hyeon-jun murmurs against his lips, his voice trembling slightly, as though afraid to shatter the moment. His hand moves to caress the beta’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over his skin. Resting his forehead against Sang-hyeok’s once again, he breathes, “You’re so… beautiful.”
The words catch him off guard, leaving Sang-hyeok momentarily breathless. His heart thunders in his chest, louder than it has any right to. He blinks up at Hyeon-jun, who gazes at him with an expression so raw and sincere it makes his stomach twist in the best of ways.
Sang-hyeok chuckles softly, his hand reaching up to cover Hyeon-jun’s, still resting against his cheek. “So dramatic, Hyeonie,” he teases, though his voice comes out softer than he intended.
Hyeon-jun huffs, his face flushing again as he averts his eyes. “I’m serious!”
“I know,” Sang-hyeok says, pulling him down for another kiss—slow and soft, mimicking how Hyeon-jun has been touching him. “And thank you, Hyeonie. You’re…” He pauses, the words catching in his throat. He lets his forehead rest against Hyeon-jun’s, their breaths mingling once more. “You’re perfect.”
Hyeon-jun’s breath hitches, and Sang-hyeok smiles as he kisses him again. Maybe this is what it feels like to let someone in. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.