Work Text:
Seongje feels bile rise in his throat before his brain can process what he’s seeing. Hands wrapped around the waist of what is his. Unforgivable. Not allowed.
And the worst part — the truly unbearable part — isn’t those hands touching something, someone Seongje would lock away if he didn’t consider it too toxic or illegal. The worst part is that that something, that someone who is his, isn’t doing anything to push them away. It’s unacceptable.
He feels something new, an emotion he had never experienced before Hyuntak. It’s not just possessiveness — it’s a fire that eats him alive from the inside out, devouring everything in its path. Jealousy. Raw, visceral jealousy that clouds his judgment. Today was supposed to be calm; Seongje hadn’t woken up wanting to rif off necks. He just wanted to spend the day with his boyfriend, pick him up after university, maybe take him out to eat and then back to his apartment. Not let him go unless it was strictly necessary —and it almost never was.
He approaches slowly. Hyuntak hasn’t noticed him yet, neither have the bastards around him. That could be bad… or maybe not. He loves the look of surprise on his boyfriend’s face. But right now, he looks too relaxed among all those people, and that bothers him. Hyuntak’s attention should be on him. And on no one else.
When he’s just inches away, he grabs him by the back of the neck without warning and pulls him into a kiss. He doesn’t even say hello. In his head, only three words echo: mine, mine, mine. Touch, touch, touch. Possess, possess, possess.
He feels more than hears Hyuntak’s gasp. He notices the intruder’s hands slipping away from his boyfriend’s waist, replaced by his own. He wraps his arms around him as if he wants to fuse with him, make him part of himself. If it weren’t for the fact that he knows Hyuntak would get angry, he’d take him right there, in front of everyone, just to prove that no one else can touch him like that.
Seongje’s eyes remain open. He locks his gaze on the idiot who dared to touch his pup. And it works — the guy freezes, takes a step back, panic written all over his face. Good. Seongje likes the fear in his eyes.
Only then he focus back on the boy in his arms. He kisses Hyuntak with his usual hunger — insatiable, restless, wanting more. His tongue explores every corner of his mouth, and Hyuntak melts, as always, a moan caught in his throat. Seongje loves that power. It’s like being handed a treasure only he can keep safe.
He doesn’t know how many minutes pass as they kiss. Awareness returns to Hyuntak as he remembers where they are: in public, in front of everyone. He pulls away abruptly, a string of saliva still connecting their mouths.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he says, his neck flushed, color rising to his face. Embarrassment painting his pretty features.
Seongje’s smile widens, euphoric at having made him angry. That expression suits him. He licks his lips, savoring them.
“Kissing my boyfriend. What else would I be doing?” he replies sarcastically, placing his hands back on his waist.
“Sorry, I’m leaving early,” Hyuntak mutters to the others. Seongje doesn’t even look at them. His eyes only follow the shorter one. He feels Hyuntak grab his hand and pull him along to walk faster.
“You’re insane,” he growls under his breath. “We’re in public. You love embarrassing me, don’t you?”
Seongje doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. He already knows how his boyfriend gets when he’s angry — throwing words that lead nowhere.
He lets himself be guided, satisfied. After all, they’re holding hands. And everyone saw what they needed to see: that Hyuntak isn’t available. And he won’t be as long as Seongje is breathing. Actually, no — not even in death. He’d take him with him, and that would be the end of it.
—
The walk home is silent. Seongje’s thoughts circle around those hands on forbidden territory, on his boyfriend, on the urge to hit something still itching under his skin. Kissing him in front of everyone wasn’t enough. Maybe he could go back and slam that stranger’s face against the pavement. That would get the message across much clearer.
His fingers itch. He wants a cigarette. He knows it’ll annoy Hyuntak. He always says he doesn’t like kissing him after he smokes, but that’s a huge lie — he has noticed how it excites him. He doesn’t know if it’s the smell or how he looks when he smokes. He knows he looks good. He’s not going to deny something that obvious.
He gets lost in all the possibilities running through his head. When he comes back to himself, they’re already standing in front of his apartment door. Hyuntak opens it with his code — because yes, of course he gave it to him. It makes visits much easier. He’d ask him to move in if he didn’t know Hyuntak would panic.
He steps in after him. The door closes with a quiet click, and Seongje wraps an arm around his waist, pressing against his back. He leaves small kisses along the exposed skin of his neck. His boyfriend melts again, leaning his weight against him.
“So, are you going to tell me what that was about?” Hyuntak’s voice pulls him from what he’s doing. Seongje hums, noncommittal. There are more important things to focus on.
“Seongje.”
“Who’s Seongje? Are you cheating on me?” he bites his neck, hard, reprimanding him. He loves that game — his boyfriend is good at following along.
“You’re ridiculous,” Hyuntak scoffs. “Why does the love of my life act like this?” Despite the affectionate words, his tone is sarcastic, firm, just as expected.
“Mm, I didn’t like what I saw,” Seongje admits, licking at his skin. He’s always enjoyed how easily Hyuntak’s skin marks. “Who were those idiots? They looked way too comfortable around you. Should I start visiting you at university more often? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Are you serious?” irritation colors Hyuntak’s voice. Seongje hums without looking at him, but he knows the annoyance is already written across his face. It’s so easy to make him angry — God, he’s completely crazy about him. “I don’t like people touching you. You know that.”
“No one touches me, what are you talking about?”
“That bastard had his hands around your waist,” Seongje says, squeezing that exact spot, the memory replaying over and over in his head.
“I didn’t even notice.”
“That’s the problem. Don’t let them, princess. You know I don’t like anyone touching you. Only I get to do that.”
“Shut up already, you’re driving me insane. It didn’t mean anything, so stop being jealous. I’m yours, end of story.”
“Yes, you’re mine,” Seongje says, turning Hyuntak so they face each other. They take in each other’s features, the satisfied smile on one mirrored on the other.
“Then why don’t you show me who I belong to?” Hyuntak provokes, bringing his hands up to Seongje’s neck.
“I always do,” Seongje replies, just before claiming his mouth — biting and licking, taking and reclaiming, as always, with hunger and need, letting the tension between them explode. If it’s a little rougher than usual, neither of them says anything. After all, that’s just how they are.