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Chapter Text

The reception hall was glowing with chandeliers, laughter, and champagne flutes raised high. Guests mingled, music swelled, and congratulations came from every corner. Kim sat at the long banquet table beside Chay, his new husband beaming with the innocence only he could carry into a room full of sharks.

Kim’s smile was practiced, perfect for the crowd. Inside, his chest felt like it was caged, restless, suffocating.

He reached for his drink just as chaos rippled across the hall. A child running between tables stumbled, his glass of red wine arcing through the air.

It splashed across Kim’s chest.

The stain bloomed dark and damning across his white shirt and suit jacket. Gasps followed, servants rushing forward with napkins.

Chay immediately grabbed Kim’s hand.

 “Hyung, let me come with you—”

Kim pulled away gently, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“No need, Chay. Stay here, entertain the guests. I’ll handle it.”

Before Chay could argue, Kim slipped away, weaving through the corridors until the noise dulled behind him.

The private dressing room was quiet, dimly lit by a single lamp. Kim tugged his jacket off, the fabric heavy with wine, and tossed it onto the couch. His shirt clung damply to his skin, stained crimson across the chest. He hissed under his breath, unbuttoning it, baring pale skin and sharp collarbones.

He grabbed a towel, dabbing at the mess. The silence was almost a relief—until the door clicked open.

 “Chay, I said no—”

The words froze on his tongue.

Vegas leaned casually against the doorframe, a smirk cutting across his face. He looked infuriatingly confident, tie loosened, hair perfectly tousled, eyes devouring Kim where he stood half-bare.

 “Well, well. The groom himself. What a pretty mess.”

Kim’s pulse spiked. His hands stilled on the towel.

“Vegas. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Vegas stepped inside, shutting the door with a deliberate click.

 “You didn’t think I’d miss your wedding, did you? I had to see it with my own eyes. Poor little Chay… and the coldest groom in Bangkok.”

Kim’s jaw tightened. He turned back to the mirror, trying to compose himself.

 “Leave. Now. I won’t cause a scene here.”

Vegas’s smirk widened. He pushed off the door and stalked forward, slow, predatory.

 “Cause a scene? Oh, Kim. That’s not what I came for.”

Kim stepped back, the wall meeting his shoulder blades. Vegas didn’t stop, closing the distance until the heat of his body pressed close.

“Vegas,” Kim warned, voice low, controlled.

Vegas’s hand slid up Kim’s damp shirt, fingers grazing a nipple before pinching it hard.

Kim gasped, a moan betraying him before he could choke it down.

 “D-Don’t…”

Vegas leaned in, his lips brushing Kim’s ear, voice a filthy purr.

 “Don’t what? Don’t make you moan like that? Don’t touch what you’ve been hiding from me all this time?”

Kim’s breath hitched, his body betraying him as Vegas pinched again, sharper. His knees weakened, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

 “Fuck… Vegas—”

Vegas chuckled darkly, his mouth trailing hot kisses down Kim’s neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks.

 “I knew it. You’re mine, Kim. You’ve always been mine.”

Kim’s towel slipped from his hand. His shirt hung open, exposing smooth skin, his chest rising and falling too fast.

Vegas dropped to his knees before him, eyes dark with hunger. His hands tugged at Kim’s pants, sliding them down in one swift motion.

Kim’s face flamed crimson as his pussy was bared, slick already glistening under the dim light.

Vegas groaned low in his throat.

 “Fuck. Prettiest pink pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Kim tried to push him back weakly, voice shaking.

“Vegas, stop—if someone finds out—”

Vegas’s tongue dragged slowly across his folds, and Kim’s words dissolved into a scream.

 “Ahhh—! Fuck—”

Vegas didn’t wait. He devoured him, tongue flicking, lips sucking, plunging deep. The sounds were wet and obscene, echoing in the quiet room. Kim clutched at the wall, thighs trembling, head thrown back as moans spilled uncontrollably from his lips.

 “So sweet,” Vegas groaned against him. “You’re dripping for me already. You love this, don’t you?”

Kim sobbed, nails scraping the wall.

> “fuck—ahhh—”

Vegas grinned, sucking hard on his clit, then fucking him with his tongue until Kim’s body convulsed. The pressure snapped, and a hot gush sprayed across Vegas’s face, soaking his mouth and chin.

Vegas moaned, swallowing greedily, licking him clean as Kim collapsed against the wall, wrecked, panting, trembling.

Vegas rose slowly, lips glistening, and claimed Kim’s mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, making him taste himself.

“This is just the beginning,” Vegas whispered darkly against his lips. “You’ll keep coming back for more. I’ll make sure of it.”

Kim kissed him back, desperate, sealing his betrayal with every breath.

The music still throbbed in the reception hall when Kim returned. His suit was clean again, freshly pressed, though his hair clung damp to his temples. No one noticed the difference, except for him — and the phantom taste of Vegas still burning his lips.

Chay spotted him instantly, his face lighting up like the chandeliers. He hurried over, relief softening his features.

 “Hyung! You’re back. I was worried.”

Kim forced a small smile, his hand automatically lifting to brush Chay’s cheek.

 “Just took longer than I thought. Nothing to worry about.”

Chay leaned into the touch, eyes sparkling, and slipped his fingers between Kim’s, warm and trusting. Kim’s throat tightened.

They walked back to the table together, Chay tugging him close, chattering about the guests, the food, the gifts. Kim nodded, murmured replies, but his mind wasn’t there. His body still ached, his thighs weak from what Vegas had done. Every step felt like a reminder.

He sat beside Chay, accepting a refill of champagne from a waiter, trying not to tremble when he lifted the glass.

And then he felt it.

That gaze.

Kim didn’t need to search the room — he knew. Across the hall, lounging lazily against the bar, Vegas watched him. A wine glass dangled from his fingers, lips curled in that damned smirk. His tongue darted out, slow and deliberate, as if savoring something only the two of them knew.

Kim’s chest tightened, heat crawling up his neck. He looked away instantly, turning to Chay, who was smiling at him with all the unguarded warmth in the world.

“Hyung,” Chay whispered, squeezing his hand under the table. “Tonight feels like a dream.”

Kim swallowed hard.

 “Yeah… a dream.”

But in his peripheral vision, Vegas lifted his glass in a mock toast, his eyes burning with promise.

Kim’s heart pounded. Because he already knew — tonight hadn’t ended. It had only begun.

The suite was quiet when they returned from the reception. The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses — all of it was left behind. Only soft candlelight and the faint perfume of roses remained.

Chay closed the door, cheeks pink with nervous excitement. He turned to Kim with that smile — the one that could melt steel — and whispered,

 “It’s just us now.”

Kim’s chest tightened. He should have felt the same warmth, the same anticipation. Instead, his pulse beat with a different rhythm, replaying the taste of another man’s mouth.

Chay stepped closer, hands shyly sliding up Kim’s chest.

“Hyung… I want tonight to be perfect.”

Kim forced a small smile, cupping Chay’s cheek, kissing him softly. Chay kissed back eagerly, lips trembling with devotion. He began unbuttoning Kim’s shirt, each movement slow, reverent, as if unwrapping a gift he’d waited his whole life for.

Kim’s mind betrayed him.

The heat of Chay’s hands blurred, replaced by the memory of rougher ones. Vegas’s smirk flashed in his mind, the way he had pinned him, the sharp sting of his fingers on Kim’s nipples. His body stirred at the thought, not at the touch before him.

The candles flickered, throwing soft shadows across the bed. Chay leaned over Kim, lips trailing gentle kisses along his jaw, his hands hesitant but warm as they slid down his chest.

“Hyung,” Chay whispered, cheeks flushed, eyes shining with trust. “I want you tonight.”

Kim nodded faintly, his throat tight. He should have been here, fully present for the boy who had just vowed his life to him. But as Chay’s lips found his collarbone, Kim’s mind twisted cruelly, dragging him back to the dressing room. To Vegas on his knees. To the filthy sound of his own moans as he came undone.

Chay unbuckled Kim’s belt clumsily, fingers trembling with nervous excitement. He glanced up, smiling shyly.

“You’re so beautiful, hyung.”

Kim’s breath hitched — not from Chay’s words, but from the ghost of Vegas’s filthy voice in his head: “So pretty… prettiest pink pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Chay slid Kim’s pants down, revealing him bare. His eyes widened slightly, breath catching, before he leaned down and kissed Kim softly between his thighs, reverent, worshipful.

Kim closed his eyes, a moan slipping past his lips. But in his mind, it wasn’t Chay’s gentle mouth he felt. It was Vegas’s tongue, greedy and relentless, drinking him down until he squirted all over his face.

 “F-Fuck…” Kim gasped, hips jerking involuntarily.

Chay pulled back, eyes worried.

 “Am I… am I doing okay?”

Kim forced his hand into Chay’s hair, stroking it gently.

“Yes. Keep going.”

Chay smiled, reassured, and kissed him again — slow, soft, almost innocent in the way he tasted Kim like something sacred.

Kim’s body betrayed him, slick dripping down, thighs trembling. His hands clutched at the sheets, his chest heaving. But every image behind his eyelids was wrong. It wasn’t Chay’s soft devotion he saw. It was Vegas’s sharp smirk, his filthy tongue, his voice commanding: “You’re mine. Say it.”

Chay kissed up his body again, settling over him. Their lips met, sweet and trembling. Chay guided himself carefully, pressing in slow, breaking with a gasp as he finally joined with Kim.

Kim’s eyes squeezed shut, a tear slipping free. Not from pain — but from the cruel truth of who filled his mind as his husband made love to him for the first time.

Chay’s rhythm was tender, uneven, driven by love.

 “I love you, hyung,” he whispered again and again, like a prayer.

Kim held him, kissed him, whispered it back.

 “I love you too.”

But in the darkness of his mind, the voice that answered wasn’t Chay’s. It was Vegas’s, taunting, promising, owning him.

And as Chay trembled in his arms, spilling with innocence and devotion, Kim bit his lip to stifle the moan that wanted to escape — because the name on his tongue wasn’t his husband’s.

It was Vegas.

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, golden across the sheets tangled around them. Chay stirred first, his arm draped lazily across Kim’s waist. He blinked up at him with a smile so pure it almost hurt.

Hyung,” he murmured, voice husky with sleep, “last night was… everything.”

Kim brushed his hair back gently, forcing his lips into a soft curve.

“Mm. I’m glad.”

Chay snuggled closer, sighing happily.

 “I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

Kim didn’t answer right away. He kissed Chay’s forehead, eyes distant. Because behind his calm mask, last night’s flashes replayed — not Chay’s trembling hands, not his shy devotion… but Vegas’s mouth, his voice, his smirk in the dim dressing room.

Later that day, when the guests had gone and the house was quiet, Kim slipped away under the excuse of work. He needed air. He needed distance.

His phone buzzed.

A single message lit the screen.

Vegas: Sweet dreams, husband? Or were you thinking of me when he touched you?

Kim’s throat tightened. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure Chay wasn’t near, before locking the phone. But his hands trembled. Because he already knew — it wasn’t over.

It would never be over.

The studio was silent. Kim sat with his guitar resting against his lap, untouched. His fingers hovered over the strings but never pressed down. His reflection in the glass across the room stared back at him — suit immaculate, ring gleaming on his finger — but his chest was restless, burning with memories he couldn’t erase.

His phone vibrated. He didn’t want to look, but he did.

Vegas : My baby 

Kim’s stomach tightened. He locked the screen instantly, pressing his lips together. He should ignore it. Pretend he never saw it. Go back inside and hold Chay’s hand, smile for him like nothing was wrong.

But then it buzzed again.

Vegas: Come outside. Now.

Kim’s throat went dry. His heart hammered with dread and want. He told himself no. He told himself to stay. But somehow, his body moved on its own.

The parking lot was nearly empty, bathed in the orange glow of a single streetlamp. Kim’s steps echoed against the concrete. His breath caught the second he saw him.

Vegas leaned against a black car, cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the night air. His suit jacket was open, shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease, his expression sharp, hungry, mocking.

“Took you long enough,” Vegas drawled, flicking ash to the ground.

Kim froze several feet away, jaw tight.

 “You’re insane. What if someone sees you here?”

Vegas exhaled smoke, eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

Let them. Maybe your sweet little husband deserves to know who you were really moaning for last night.”

Kim’s pulse spiked, heat creeping up his neck.

“Don’t.”

Vegas smirked, tossing the cigarette aside. He closed the distance in slow, predatory steps until Kim’s back met the cold wall.

 “Don’t?” Vegas repeated, voice dropping lower. His hand shot up, fingers gripping Kim’s jaw, tilting his face. “Don’t lie to me, Kim. You were thinking of me when he touched you, weren’t you?”

Kim swallowed hard, his glare faltering. “Fuck you.”

Vegas’s grin widened.

“Already did.”

His thumb brushed over Kim’s lower lip, smearing it open slightly. His other hand slid down Kim’s chest, tugging at his tie, undoing him piece by piece with maddening leisure.

Kim grabbed his wrist. “Vegas—”

Vegas leaned close, lips brushing his ear.

 “Your body wants me more than it ever wanted him. You’re wet right now, aren’t you? Should I check?”

Kim’s breath hitched. He hated himself for the way his thighs clenched, for how heat pooled low in his belly.

“S-Shut up,” he whispered.

Vegas chuckled darkly, pressing his hips forward so Kim could feel the hard length straining against his slacks.

You feel that? That’s what you need. Not his shy little kisses. You need me splitting you open, making you scream.”

Kim’s nails dug into Vegas’s wrist, but he didn’t push him away. He couldn’t.

Vegas lowered his voice to a filthy whisper.

>Every time he touches you, you’ll remember my mouth on your pussy. Every time he kisses you, you’ll taste me. I’ve ruined you already, Kim.”

Kim’s chest heaved. His lips parted, but no words came. His body trembled between anger and desire, and he hated how quickly his control was slipping.

Vegas’s mouth crashed onto his, devouring him in a bruising kiss. Kim moaned against him, fingers curling into his jacket, pulling him closer instead of shoving him away.

When they broke apart, breathless, Vegas licked Kim’s bottom lip and whispered,

“This is just the beginning, baby. And I won’t stop until you’re mine completely.”

The kiss wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.

Vegas shoved Kim back against the car door, lips crashing onto his in a bruising kiss. Kim’s hands trembled, gripping his jacket, torn between fury and raw want.

 “Vegas—” Kim tried to warn, but it melted into a moan when Vegas’s tongue pushed deeper.

With a sharp tug, Vegas yanked the door open and shoved Kim inside, slamming it shut behind them. The air was instantly heavy, windows fogging as their breaths collided.

Vegas crawled over him in the backseat, pinning Kim down against the leather. His hands ripped at Kim’s belt, tugging his pants down roughly.

 “Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this,” Vegas growled, eyes dark with hunger.

Kim gasped as cold air hit his bare pussy, slick glistening in the dim light. His legs trembled, trying to close, but Vegas forced them apart, settling between them.

“Vegas, don’t—someone could see—”

Vegas smirked, lowering his head.

“Let them watch you squirt all over my mouth.”

His tongue pressed flat against Kim’s clit, licking hard, fast, filthy. Kim screamed, nails raking the seat, thighs shaking violently as Vegas devoured him, sucking, slurping, moaning like a starved man.

“Ahhh—fuck—Vegas—!”

Vegas plunged two fingers deep, curling against his sweet spot, his tongue flicking mercilessly until Kim’s body jerked uncontrollably. A gush of hot liquid sprayed across Vegas’s chin, soaking his face and dripping onto the seat.

Vegas groaned, licking him through it, drinking everything.

 “That’s it, baby. Squirt for me. Make a mess of my car.”

Kim sobbed, hips grinding helplessly against his mouth, squirting again as Vegas fingered him rougher, wetter, filthier.

When he finally pulled back, his face glistened, lips swollen, eyes wild. He shoved his cock out, thick and hard, dripping with precum.

 “Ride me.”

Kim straddled him shakily, thighs trembling as he sank down inch by inch. The car filled with the sound of wet slaps and Kim’s broken moans as Vegas slammed up into him, brutal and relentless.

“Say it,” Vegas snarled, biting his neck. “Say you’re mine.”

Kim’s nails dug into his shoulders, tears streaking his flushed face as he came, squirting over Vegas’s stomach, clenching around him tight.

”Fuck....fuck...vegas"

Vegas groaned, thrusting harder, filling him deep, hot cum spilling inside until Kim collapsed against him, shaking, ruined.

The car stank of sweat, sex, and sin. Vegas kissed him, licking into his mouth, possessive and raw.

 “Good boy. You belong to me now. And I’ll fuck you in this car again and again until you can’t breathe without me.”

Kim panted against him, broken but burning, because he knew he couldn’t deny it — he’d already fallen.

--

The drive back was silent, the city lights blurring past as Kim gripped the wheel too tightly. His thighs were sore, his shirt clung damp to his chest, and the scent of sex clung to his skin no matter how wide he cracked the window.

Vegas’s words still rang in his ears: “You belong to me now.”

By the time Kim slipped quietly into his own apartment, the clock was past midnight. He locked the door gently, shoes abandoned at the entrance. The guilt he expected never came — only the restless burn of need, the phantom feel of Vegas still inside him.

In the bedroom, Chay stirred. He blinked awake, hair messy, rubbing his eyes.

“Hyung? You’re back late… where were you?”

Kim froze for a beat too long before managing a calm tone.

 “Studio. I couldn’t sleep.”

Chay smiled sleepily, reaching out.

“Come here. You’re always overworking yourself.”

Kim climbed into bed, sliding under the sheets. Chay curled against him instantly, warm and trusting, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. His hand settled over Kim’s stomach, innocent and secure.

Kim stared at the ceiling, his pulse hammering. Because Chay’s warmth should have soothed him — but all he could think about was the rough grip of Vegas’s hands, the sharp bite of his teeth, the filthy way he whispered mine with every thrust.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Kim stiffened, carefully turning his face so Chay couldn’t see. The screen lit up.

 Vegas: Does he taste me when he kisses you?

Kim’s chest tightened, heat pooling low again. He shut his eyes, forcing his breath steady, wrapping his arm around Chay like nothing was wrong.

“Goodnight, hyung,” Chay mumbled against his skin, already drifting back to sleep.

Kim pressed a kiss to Chay’s hair, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Chay.”

But his other hand gripped the sheets hard, because Vegas’s words wouldn’t leave him — and deep down, Kim knew he’d go back.

-

Morning light spilled through the curtains, soft and golden. Kim sat at the table with Chay, watching him hum as he buttered toast, hair messy from sleep.

Chay looked up, smiling brightly.

 “Eat, hyung. You barely touched your dinner last night.”

Kim forced a small smile, picking at the food. Chay’s warmth was steady, grounding, but Kim’s mind wouldn’t stop drifting — back to the car, to the leather sticking to his back, to Vegas’s tongue buried inside him until he squirted all over his face.

His phone buzzed on the table.

Kim’s stomach sank before he even looked.

Vegas: Still sore? Bet it aches when you sit. Want me to kiss it better?

Kim flipped the phone face down instantly, heat creeping up his neck.

“Work,” he muttered when Chay tilted his head.

Chay only nodded, trusting.

 “Don’t overwork, hyung.”

The trust in his voice cut deeper than any blade.

---

Later that afternoon, Chay pulled Kim to a small café near the river. They sat side by side, Chay’s hand in his, sunlight dancing on the water. Chay leaned his head against Kim’s shoulder, content.

Kim’s chest should have felt light. Instead, his phone buzzed again.

Vegas: Cute date. He holds your hand like he owns you. But we both know who fucked you open last night.

Kim’s grip on his cup tightened. He shoved the phone back in his pocket, jaw clenched. Chay noticed the tension, frowning slightly.

“Hyung… are you okay?”

Kim forced his lips into a curve, kissing Chay’s hair.

 “I’m fine.”

But his heart was pounding, because across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost, Vegas stood. Smirking. Watching.

Kim’s breath hitched, but when he blinked, Vegas was gone.

---

That night, Chay tugged him into bed, curling close. His kisses were soft, clumsy, devoted.

“Hyung,” Chay whispered, cheeks flushed, “you feel far away sometimes. Did I do something wrong?”

Kim’s chest twisted. He held Chay tighter, burying his face in his neck.

“No. Never.”

Chay sighed, pressing a kiss to Kim’s jaw.

 “Then stay close to me.”

Kim whispered yes. But his phone buzzed again on the nightstand, screen lighting in the dark.

Vegas: Does he know you moan my name in your head when he kisses you?

Kim shut his eyes, every nerve alight, torn in two.

Because Chay’s warmth was real…

But Vegas’s shadow never left.

Chapter Text

The penthouse lights still burned in Kim’s head long after he slipped out into the cool night air. By the time he returned home, the city was quieter, softer — nothing like the storm that had just swallowed him whole.

He eased the door open. Chay was asleep on the couch, curled up in a blanket, TV still glowing faintly. A plate of untouched food sat on the table. Kim’s chest tightened.

He crouched down, brushing a strand of hair from Chay’s face. The boy stirred, blinking up at him with heavy eyes.

“Hyung… you’re late,” Chay mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Kim’s throat tightened. He forced a gentle smile, stroking Chay’s hair back.

I lost track of time at the studio.”

Chay’s lips curved faintly, too tired to question him.

You work too much… I was waiting for you.”

Kim’s gaze flicked to the cold plate on the table. The untouched meal, the empty room, the way Chay had fallen asleep alone. His chest ached, guilt gnawing at him — but behind his eyes, he still saw Vegas’s smirk, still felt the burn of his hands.

Come on,” Kim whispered, lifting Chay carefully. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Chay leaned against him, trusting, pliant. When Kim tucked him under the blankets, Chay caught his wrist, holding on weakly.

“Hyung… don’t leave me.”

The words cut sharper than any knife. Kim sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his thumb over Chay’s knuckles.

 “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chay smiled, eyes slipping shut again, safe in his husband’s arms. His breathing evened out within minutes.

Kim stayed there in the dark, staring at him. Chay’s innocence glowed like a lantern, fragile and pure. Kim should have been at peace. He should have felt whole.

Instead, the silence pressed in like a weight, suffocating. His phone buzzed once on the nightstand, screen lighting in the dark.

Vegas: Sweet dreams, baby. Remember who you really belong to.

Kim exhaled shakily, shoulders trembling as he set the phone face down. His arm curled protectively around Chay, but his mind… his mind was still in the penthouse, drowning in smoke, shadows, and Vegas’s voice.

-

Morning came too soon. Kim sat at the kitchen counter with his coffee, eyes distant, while Chay hummed softly as he plated breakfast.

 “Hyung, you barely touched your food last night,” Chay said, setting a plate in front of him. “So today, you’re eating.”

Kim forced a smile, nodding, but the fork in his hand felt heavy. The smell of eggs and toast grounded him in the present — Chay’s world — yet his mind flickered back to last night, to the taste of smoke and the sound of Vegas’s laugh in the shadows.

Chay slid into the chair across from him, chin propped on his palm.

 “You’ve been quiet lately.”

Kim’s grip on the fork tightened.

“Just tired.”

Chay tilted his head, studying him.

Not with me, right?”

Kim’s chest tightened. He reached across the table, brushing his thumb over Chay’s hand.

 “Never with you.”

Chay smiled, though faintly, and nodded. But doubt lingered in his eyes — a flicker Kim hadn’t seen before.

That night, as Chay worked on music in the studio corner, Kim sat nearby, watching. Chay’s head bobbed along to the melody he played, lips pursed in concentration. Normally, Kim would tease, correct, or join in. Tonight, he sat silent, staring, his thoughts miles away.

Chay paused, setting the guitar down.

 “Hyung.”

Kim blinked, pulled from his daze.

What?”

Chay bit his lip.

You looked like… you weren’t here. Like you’re somewhere else.”

Kim’s throat went dry. He forced a small laugh.

“You’re imagining things.”

Chay leaned against him, resting his head on Kim’s shoulder.

 “Maybe. But I don’t want to lose you to whatever it is you’re thinking about.”

Kim’s hand froze mid-stroke through Chay’s hair. The words pierced deep, sharper than Chay could ever know.

 You already have, Kim thought bitterly, but he only kissed the top of Chay’s head and whispered,

You won’t.”

But in the silence that followed, Kim knew he was lying.

Chay’s breathing was steady against his shoulder, but Kim’s eyes stayed open, staring at the ceiling. His mind slipped, as it always did, not to the boy sleeping beside him — but to the man he’d sworn never to touch.

Vegas.

Kim had known it for years. The stolen glances, the way their banter always lingered on the edge of something sharper. The spark that burned whenever their eyes locked across a room. Both of them had known — and both of them had chosen to step back, because crossing that line would set fire to everything.

But Kim remembered.

The way his pulse spiked when Vegas leaned too close, smirking at some careless remark. The way his stomach tightened when Vegas’s hand brushed his at family dinners, too brief to be an accident, too deliberate to be nothing. The nights he lay awake, furious with himself for wanting a man who wore sin like perfume.

And then there were the whispers. His friends, laughing over drinks, trading stories.

 “Vegas? He’s dangerous, but sweet when he wants to be.”

“Oh, he’ll charm you to death during the day… but in bed? He’s a fucking monster.”

Kim had scoffed, pretended disinterest, but the words branded themselves into him. He imagined it too many times — Vegas’s smile turning sharp in the dark, hands rough, mouth ruthless. Sweet and cruel, just like the man himself.

It made him ache.

And now… now those whispers weren’t just imagination. He knew them as truth. The taste of Vegas was still on his tongue, the marks still burning on his skin.

Beside him, Chay shifted closer in his sleep, murmuring softly, trusting him without question. Kim’s chest twisted, guilt clawing at him — but beneath it, hotter, heavier, was the memory of Vegas pinning him down, whispering filth against his ear.

Kim shut his eyes, trapped between two worlds. One built on innocence. The other on fire.

And he already knew which one was winning.

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed since that night — Kim trying desperately to maintain the façade of a happy husband. But tonight, the family dinner was a battlefield disguised as celebration.

The dining hall glittered with chandeliers and polished silverware. The minor family members mingled politely, the major ones seated at the head table. Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, but Kim felt every smile from Chay like a knife twisting in his chest.

Chay’s hand brushed against his under the table. Kim offered a quick squeeze, a small gesture to reassure him — or maybe to reassure himself.

“Hyung, are you excited?” Chay whispered, eyes bright with innocent anticipation.

Kim’s lips curved into a tight smile.

“Of course.”

The evening flowed smoothly. Compliments were exchanged, minor squabbles gently mediated, and Kim laughed at Chay’s jokes with a precision that felt almost mechanical. All the while, Vegas’s teasing texts flashed briefly in Kim’s mind, making his heart race and his palms sweat.

Then came the announcement.

Korn, sitting at the head of the table, raised a glass with a broad smile.

“We’ll be taking a honeymoon — two whole weeks! Somewhere warm, somewhere private. Just the two of us.”

A cheer rose from the table, clinking glasses and congratulations filling the air. Chay’s eyes sparkled as he leaned into Kim, whispering,

 “Hyung… two weeks, just us.”

Kim swallowed hard, words stuck in his throat. The thought of two weeks alone with Chay should have felt like a blessing, but instead it felt like a trap — a period where Vegas’s shadow would be impossibly hard to ignore.

His mind flickered back to Vegas’s grin, the way he’d cornered him in the penthouse,made him shiver even when he tried to resist.

Kim forced a laugh, lifting his glass.

That’s… wonderful.”

Chay beamed, oblivious to the storm behind Kim’s smile. And Kim realized, with a tightening in his chest, that the honeymoon wasn’t going to be a respite — it was going to be a test.

Kim lied to Chay again, slipping out with a casual smile. “Meeting friends,” he said, voice calm. Chay gave a sleepy nod, too trusting to doubt him, and Kim felt the familiar sting of guilt under the ease of Chay’s smile.

Outside, the city pulsed with neon and noise. Kim ducked into a small, dim bar, ordering whiskey after whiskey, letting the burn in his throat drown out the storm in his chest. He drank alone, though his body screamed for more than liquid courage.

And then Vegas appeared.

Dark, smirking, unrelenting, Vegas slid onto the stool beside him.

Lonely night?” he purred.

Kim swallowed, words failing him.

 “Just… needed a drink.”

Vegas’s hand brushed against his thigh, slow, teasing.

You’ve been thinking about me. Don’t lie.”

Kim’s knees went weak. Vegas leaned in, lips crashing against his in a kiss that stole his breath and control. Tongues tangled, teeth grazed, and hands roamed greedily.

 “Vegas… stop…” Kim moaned, but his body betrayed him, pressing into Vegas’s hold.

Vegas only smirked, dragging him out into the night and into a waiting car. His hands never left Kim’s body, never letting him forget why he was here.

The penthouse door shut behind them with a solid click. Vegas shoved Kim onto the bed immediately, lips devouring him as hands ripped at clothes, nipples pinched and bitten until Kim screamed. Fingers slid into him expertly, teasing, curling, plunging, while lips alternated between sucking and biting.

Kim’s body shook, moans spilling freely as he squirted hard, soaking Vegas without mercy. Vegas smirked against him, whispering low and filthy:

That’s mine. All mine. You feel it, don’t you?”

Kim could barely form words, gasping his consent in broken moans. Vegas continued relentlessly, thrusting, biting, claiming every inch. Hours passed in a blur of sweat, heat, and filthy desire. By the time it ended, Kim was exhausted, trembling, body and mind completely surrendered.

Vegas leaned over him, brushing damp hair from his face.

Sleep now. We’ll do this again.”

Kim lay panting, body spent, guilt gnawing at him. Chay was waiting at home, oblivious to every stolen moment, every shadowy desire, every touch that had left its mark.

Even as he dressed and slipped back out into the cool night air, one thought haunted him: Vegas’s shadow would never leave, no matter how hard he tried to bury it.

-

The city was quiet when Kim slipped back into his apartment, the night air clinging to him like a second skin. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of what he’d done pressing down.

Chay was still awake, curled on the couch, eyes bright and waiting. He looked up when Kim entered, a tired smile spreading across his face.

Hyung… you’re back late.”

Kim forced a smile, voice strained.

Yeah… traffic was worse than I thought.”

Chay didn’t question it, trusting him completely. He patted the seat beside him.

“Come sit. I was thinking of going to bed, but I wanted to see you first.”

"I want to change chay" he kissed his lips and left the room

Kim shut the bathroom door, body trembling from the night. He peeled off the soaked panties, revealing the glistening cum and slick patches left by Vegas.

His fingers traced the folds, spreading them slowly, and the wet warmth made him shiver.

“Fuck… so wet… just like Vegas,” he whispered, hips pressing slightly against his hand.

He slid a finger deep, curling and thrusting inside, moaning softly as heat pooled in his lower belly.

“Come on… fuck my pussy, Vegas…” he whispered, low and ragged.

His hips moved on their own, grinding against his fingers. Moans escaped in soft bursts, and his body trembled as pleasure built, thick and relentless.

 “Yes… right there… harder…” he breathed, curling his fingers deeper, slick running freely down his thighs.

The sensation overwhelmed him. He pushed his fingers harder, rocking his hips, biting his lip as a warm, wet gush spurted out.

 “Fuck! Vegas… I’m coming!” he gasped, fingers plunging deep, hips thrusting, body shaking violently.

Squirts of fluid coated his hand and thighs as his body convulsed, moans spilling uncontrollably. He cried out, shivering, heart hammering, lost in the filth and pleasure of it all.

When the tremors finally faded, Kim collapsed against the sink, gasping, chest heaving, fingers slick and sticky. He wiped himself quickly, changed into fresh clothes, and opened the door.

Chay smiled softly at him, oblivious:

 “Hyung… come to bed?”

Kim nodded, swallowing the lingering ache of Vegas in his veins, holding Chay close, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. Inside, his body still throbbed, remembering every touch, every filthy moment.

-

Next day 

The day had been long, filled with luggage, boarding passes, and the low hum of travelers rushing past. Kim and Chay moved through the airport in practiced synchronization, Chay holding his hand, smiling as if nothing in the world could touch them.

Kim’s chest felt heavy, though — the night with Vegas still vivid in his mind, every touch, every moan. He tried to shake it off, focusing on Chay, on the upcoming honeymoon.

As they paused at security, Kim’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out discreetly. The notification made his heart skip: Vegas — a message preview showing a simple, smirking emoji.

Kim’s stomach tightened. He glanced around nervously, trying to act casual.

“Everything okay?” Chay asked, glancing up at him.

“Yeah… just a message,” Kim muttered, pocketing the phone quickly.

He tried to focus on the line for security, on Chay’s hand in his, on the mundane chatter of travelers. But when he turned toward the restroom to freshen up before boarding, his pulse spiked.

Through the slightly ajar door, he saw a familiar figure — Vegas, leaning casually at the sink, smirking as if he had been waiting for him.

Kim froze, heart hammering. Every instinct screamed to turn and run, but a strange thrill coursed through him. Vegas’s eyes met his, sharp and teasing, and the world narrowed to just the two of them.

 “Hello, Kim,” Vegas drawled, voice low, carrying that dangerous mix of lust and mischief that always left Kim weak.

Kim’s throat went dry. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to act normal for Chay’s sake, but every nerve in his body screamed in warning and temptation.

Vegas didn’t move closer, not yet — just smirked, watching, letting Kim squirm.

“Busy day with your husband?” Vegas asked, lips twitching in amusement.

Kim swallowed hard, forcing a nod.

 “Yeah… we’re just about to board.”

The airport roared outside, oblivious to the locked bathroom door. Vegas’s eyes glinted as he grabbed Kim, pressing him against the cold wall.

Two weeks without me…” Vegas whispered, voice low, dangerous. “Do you miss me, Kim?”

Kim trembled, breath hitching, hips pressing instinctively forward.

“Vegas… I… oh fuck…”

Vegas’s hands moved with precision, ripping off Kim’s soaked panties. He lifted them briefly to his nose, inhaling deeply, a wicked smirk curling across his lips.

Mmm… still smells like you’ve been thinking about me,” he purred, sliding a slick finger deep inside Kim while his tongue traced over him, teasing the folds.

Kim shivered, pressing harder into Vegas, moaning loudly:

“Yes… yes… Vegas… right there… don’t stop…”

Vegas crouched, spreading Kim fully, tongue diving deep, tasting, teasing, lapping up every drop of slick and pre.

 “Two weeks without this… without me inside you… did you even survive, Kim?” Vegas murmured, fingers curling, probing deeper, hips moving instinctively with his strokes.

Kim gasped, bucking, hips lifting, fingers clutching the cold wall:

Vegas… fuck… oh .… I missed you… yes… right there…”

Vegas’s other hand pinched Kim’s nipples, teasing, pulling as he continued licking and finger-fucking him. Kim’s moans grew louder, ragged, as pleasure built uncontrollably, every nerve on fire.

 “Call my name… tell me you’ve been thinking about me,” Vegas whispered, mouth moving over Kim’s sensitive flesh.

Kim’s legs trembled violently.

Vegas… oh… yes… harder… don’t stop… I’m… I’m close…”

And he squirt hard on vegas face and his lips.

Vegas finally pulled back, smirking, fingers slick and lips glistening. He leaned down, capturing Kim in a possessive, wet kiss — tasting Kim, claiming him, lips and tongue moving together in hunger and dominance. Kim’s hands clawed at Vegas’s shoulders, body still trembling from the release.

“Two weeks… and you still taste like this,” Vegas murmured between kisses, voice low and teasing. “Next time… we’ll have all the time we need.”

Kim shivered, chest heaving, lips sticky, heart racing. Slowly, Vegas pulled back, letting Kim step away, straightening his clothes. The chaos of the airport returned. Chay, ahead, holding Kim’s hand, oblivious, smiling, unaware of the storm, the taste, and the lust still pulsing violently in Kim’s body.

Kim gripped Chay’s hand as they walked toward the boarding gate. Every step was a battle — hips still tingling, heart pounding, the memory of Vegas’s tongue and fingers fresh, slick and burning in his mind.

Chay chatted happily beside him, oblivious, excited for their honeymoon. Kim forced a smile, nodding at the right moments, but inside, his body still ached, trembling with leftover pleasure.

> “Are you okay?” Chay asked softly, noticing the flush on Kim’s cheeks.

Kim’s throat tightened.

“Yeah… just… tired,” he murmured, tugging Chay gently toward the gate.

They waited in line, and Kim subtly adjusted his clothes, hoping Chay wouldn’t notice how wet and sensitive he still felt. His fingers itched to touch himself again, to chase the memory of Vegas, but he bit his lip and kept it in check.

The flight attendants called them to board, and Kim followed Chay down the narrow aisle, trying to act normal. He slid into his seat, heart still hammering, body still buzzing. Chay leaned in, whispering something about the honeymoon plans, and Kim smiled, nodding, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Vegas’s smirk, his hands, his tongue — every filthy detail — haunted him. Kim clenched the armrest, trying not to think, trying not to give himself away, but the scent, the taste, the memory of the squirt made it impossible.

As the plane took off, Kim closed his eyes, pressing a hand to his thigh, trying to calm the tremor still coursing through him. Chay rested his head against Kim’s shoulder, completely unaware that Kim’s mind — and body — still belonged, at least in part, to Vegas.

The honeymoon had only just begun, but the shadow of that filthy, heated airport encounter lingered, a silent storm waiting to erupt again.

Chapter Text

The plane touched down just after sunrise. By the time they reached the resort, the light was soft and gold, spilling over the sea. Chay leaned against the balcony rail, eyes wide at the endless horizon.

“Hyung… look at it. It doesn’t even look real.”

Kim stood behind him, arms slipping around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.

> “It’s real,” he said quietly. “And it’s ours for two weeks.”

The air smelled of salt and flowers. Their villa had an open veranda, a pool that seemed to fall straight into the ocean, and the kind of quiet Kim hadn’t heard in years. They unpacked lazily, shoes kicked off, laughter echoing against the wooden beams.

They spent the first day doing nothing: lying under the sun, drifting in the pool, eating fruit straight from the plate. In the evenings they walked along the beach, letting the water rush over their feet. Chay sang softly to the rhythm of the waves; Kim listened, smiling into the wind.

Later, they curled up on the couch with soft music playing. Chay leaned his head on Kim’s shoulder.

> “We never get time like this,” Chay murmured. “Then we make it,” Kim replied.

The next morning they tried diving lessons. Chay was fearless; Kim not so much. Every time Kim hesitated, Chay grinned through the snorkel mask and reached for his hand underwater. When they surfaced, laughing and breathless, Kim realized he was happier than he’d been in years.

Afternoons were spent exploring small cafés, collecting seashells, taking pictures of each other that would later fill the walls of their home. At night, they shared long talks on the veranda about everything and nothing — childhood stories, songs they wanted to write together, plans for after the honeymoon.

One evening Chay dozed off halfway through a movie. Kim brushed the hair from his face, thinking how strange it felt to have peace that simple. He turned off the lights, the sea murmuring outside, and whispered,

“Good night, my troublemaker.”

Chay mumbled something in his sleep, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. The room fell quiet except for the waves and their steady breathing.

By the fifth day, the island had become their small world.

They woke to sunlight spilling across the bed, the smell of coffee drifting in from the veranda.

Chay sat cross-legged, scrolling through photos of the trip, laughing at how many of them were just Kim trying not to smile.

> “You’re always pretending to be serious,” Chay teased.

“I am serious,” Kim said, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

They spent the morning swimming and teasing each other about who could float longer, who got more tanned. By sunset they were exhausted, sprawled across the bed, watching the sky turn from gold to violet.

Kim’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He ignored it at first. Chay was talking about the next day’s plans — a private boat, a dinner under lanterns — and Kim didn’t want to break the spell.

It buzzed again.

Chay’s voice softened. “You can check it, hyung. Might be work.”

Kim reached for it, half expecting some family message, something routine.

But the name on the screen froze him.

Vegas.

He stared at the notification for a heartbeat before opening it.

> Can’t stay away. I’ll be there soon. Can’t stay without you.

The words blurred on the screen. Kim locked the phone quickly, slid it face-down, and forced a steady breath. Chay didn’t notice; he was still talking about the dinner menu, eyes bright with plans.

Kim nodded at the right places, even smiled once or twice, but his pulse wouldn’t slow.

The sea outside was calm, the air smelled of salt and coconut — everything perfect — yet a storm had already found its way back to him.

When Chay turned off the lights and curled against him, Kim lay awake staring into the dark. The phone on the nightstand buzzed once more, a small sound swallowed by the crash of distant waves.

-

The resort was quiet by the time Kim slipped out.

Chay was asleep, one arm flung over the pillow, the soft rhythm of his breathing mixing with the hum of the ceiling fan.

Kim stood for a long time in the doorway, guilt gnawing at the edge of his calm, before he finally turned and walked out into the night.

The beach was almost empty — just the sound of the waves and distant music from the bar.

Vegas stood there waiting, just as he said he would, shirt open, the breeze tugging at the hem.

When Kim stopped a few paces away, Vegas smiled faintly.

> “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

> “You shouldn’t have,” Kim replied. “This isn’t—this isn’t your place.”

Vegas tilted his head, watching him. “Then why are you here, Kim?”

Kim didn’t answer. He looked out toward the dark horizon instead, as if the sea could swallow the question for him.

> “You keep saying it’s wrong,” Vegas said quietly, stepping closer, “but you never let it end.”

> “Because ending it doesn’t change what we are,” Kim shot back. His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

For a long moment neither spoke. The sound of the waves filled the silence, steady and slow, like breathing.

Vegas reached out, fingertips brushing the back of Kim’s hand. “You look tired,” he said. “You deserve something real, even if it’s just for tonight.”

Kim’s breath hitched. He could feel the pull again—the same gravity that had always dragged him back. Every time he told himself he’d moved on, Vegas would appear like this: quiet, dangerous, and too familiar.

> “You don’t make things easy,” Kim whispered.

> “I never tried to,” Vegas said, voice low. “And you never walked away.”

Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, the rest of the world disappeared—the resort lights, the music, even the ocean seemed to fade.

Then Kim exhaled and looked away, but he didn’t step back.

> “Just talk,” Kim said finally. “Nothing else.”

> “Alright,” Vegas murmured, though the curve of his smile said otherwise. “Just talk.”

They walked along the beach together, sand cool beneath their feet.

Vegas spoke about the weeks apart, about missing him, about the things he never said aloud. Kim listened, silent, the air between them thick with everything left unspoken.

When they reached the far end of the beach, where the lights no longer reached, Vegas stopped walking. He turned to Kim, voice barely above a whisper.

> “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

Kim stared at him for a long moment, lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come.

Vegas smiled sadly, took a slow step forward.

> “That’s what I thought.”

The night folded around them like a secret neither of them could bury.

The air between them thickened, salt and wind and the faint sound of the tide rolling in.

Vegas stood so close Kim could see the glint of moonlight on his lashes, could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“Tell me to leave,” Vegas repeated, voice lower now, almost fragile.

Kim’s throat tightened. He wanted to. The words pressed at his lips—Go. Leave. I have Chay. I’ve moved on.

But they never made it out.

Instead, Kim said softly, almost to himself,

“You always do this.”

“Do what?” Vegas asked.

“Make me forget who I’m supposed to be.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the waves.

Vegas reached up, fingers brushing a strand of hair from Kim’s face.

Kim didn’t move.

“Then stop me,” Vegas whispered.

Kim didn’t.

Instead, Vegas took Kim’s wrist—gentle, like he was holding something breakable—and pulled him away from the open cliff’s edge.

Down a narrow path, hidden between jagged rocks, where the resort lights couldn’t reach.

Only moonlight. Only shadow. Only the two of them.

They stopped at a dark, hollowed-out rock face, the sea roaring below, invisible.

Vegas pressed Kim gently against the cool stone. Not trapped—just held.

Kim’s breath hitched. Vegas’s hands slid under the hem of Kim’s shirt, palms flat against warm skin.

Slow. Reverent.

Fingers tracing the line of his ribs, up, up—until his thumbs brushed the soft undersides of Kim’s chest.

Kim shivered.

Vegas leaned in, mouth finding one nipple through the thin fabric.

He sucked gently—wet heat, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to make Kim’s knees weak.

Kim’s head fell back against the rock, a soft, broken sound escaping his throat.

Vegas moved to the other nipple, lavishing it the same slow worship.

Kim’s hands fisted in Vegas’s hair—not pushing, just needing.

Then Vegas sank to his knees.

Moonlight painted silver across Kim’s skin as Vegas pushed the shirt higher, kissed a path down his stomach.

He hooked his fingers in Kim’s waistband, tugged his pants down just enough.

Kim’s pussy was already slick, swollen with want. Vegas exhaled, reverent.

He licked a slow, deliberate stripe up the center of him.

Kim’s hips jerked. A whimper caught in the wind.

Vegas didn’t tease.

He devoured—tongue flat and firm, then pointed and precise, circling Kim’s clit with devastating patience.

Two fingers slipped inside, curling, stroking that spot that made Kim’s thighs tremble.

Kim’s hands scrabbled at the rock, then at Vegas’s shoulders.

“Vegas—fuck—”

Vegas hummed against him, the vibration sending Kim spiraling.

He came with a soft cry, muffled against his own forearm, pussy clenching around Vegas’s fingers, thighs shaking.

Vegas didn’t stop until Kim was boneless, sagging against the stone.

Then he rose, kissed Kim slow and deep—letting him taste himself, letting him feel how wanted he was.

When they broke apart, Kim’s eyes were wet, his breath uneven.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said again, though his voice was softer now.

Vegas smiled faintly, thumb brushing Kim’s lower lip.

“Maybe not. But you didn’t stop me.”

Kim turned away, running a hand through his hair. The night air was cool against his flushed skin.

He could still feel Vegas’s mouth on him—warm, insistent, devoted.

Vegas took a small step back, giving him space.

“I’ll go,” he said. “But you’ll think of me. You always do.”

Kim didn’t watch him leave.

He stood there until the sound of footsteps faded, until the waves swallowed every trace of that moment.

Then he finally looked up at the moon, whispering to no one,

“You never really leave, do you?”

And somewhere in the dark, Vegas smiled—knowing Kim was right.

Chapter Text

Every night of the honeymoon had been the same ritual, carved into Kim like a scar he couldn't stop tracing.  

Chay would fall asleep first—always, with that soft, trusting sigh, his wedding band glinting like a promise in the low light of the villa. Kim would wait until the breathing deepened, until Chay's arm across his waist went heavy and slack, until the only sounds were the waves and the distant hum of the resort.  

Then Kim would slip free, silent as a shadow, barefoot and shirtless, heart pounding like a thief.  

The path to the staff bungalows was etched in his bones now: past the hibiscus hedge, over the crushed coral that bit into his soles, to Vegas's unlocked door.  

Inside, no words at first. Just hands and mouths and the kind of desperation that came from loving in stolen hours.  

Vegas would pull him close, fuck him slow against the wall or fast on the floor, fingers between his legs until Kim was moaning his name into Vegas's neck—low, broken, *Vegas, please, .  

They'd come together, tangled and trembling, whispers of *stay* and *mine* exchanged like secrets.  

Then Kim would leave before the sky lightened, showering in the outdoor stall to wash away the salt and smoke, slipping back into bed beside Chay like nothing had changed.  

Chay never stirred.  

The lies held.

But on the final night, the ritual broke.  

At 11:42, Chay's breathing dropped into that slow, trusting cadence, his wedding band a cold circle against Kim’s ribs.  

Kim counted to one hundred and twenty, then slipped from the sheets like a man stepping off a cliff.  

His phone pulsed once:  

*reef’s end. now. I’m dying without you.*

He left barefoot, shirt half-buttoned, lungs already burning.  

Not to the bungalow this time.  

To the edge of everything.

The resort vanished.  

The beach became a silver wound.  

Far beyond the last torch, a single candle guttered in the sand, its flame trembling like a held breath.  

A mat.  

A mattress dragged from some forgotten room.  

A cave mouth exhaling darkness.  

No witnesses.

Vegas rose from the shadows the instant Kim’s silhouette cut the moonlight.  

He didn’t speak.  

He simply opened his arms.

Kim crashed into them.  

The impact knocked the air from both of them.  

Vegas’s hands flew to Kim’s face, cradling it like glass about to shatter.  

His thumbs shook as they traced the wet paths already streaking Kim’s cheeks.

“I love you,” Vegas rasped, voice shredded.  

“I love you so much it’s killing me.  

I love the way you flinch when you lie.  

I love the scar on your knee from when you were nine.  

I love the sound you make when you come apart and think no one’s listening.  

I love you when you’re his and when you’re mine and when you’re neither.  

I love you until my bones ache.  

I love you until the word *love* is too small.  

I love you, Kim.  

*Stay.*”

Kim’s sob tore loose, raw, animal.  

He fisted Vegas’s shirt, yanked him down, kissed him like drowning.  

Teeth clashed.  

Tongues tangled.  

Salt and tears and desperation.  

A kiss that tasted like *goodbye* and *never leave* at once.

They stripped each other with shaking hands.  

Buttons scattered into sand.  

Fabric ripped.  

Skin met skin like flint on steel.  

Sparks.

Vegas lowered Kim to the mattress as if the world might end if he let go too fast.  

Knelt between his thighs.  

His hand slid down Kim’s trembling stomach, fingers parting him with reverence.  

Stroked through slick heat, circled his clit once, twice, then rested there, palm over Kim’s heart below.

“I want to live inside this moment,” Vegas whispered, voice cracking.  

“Inside you.  

Inside every breath you take when you’re terrified.  

Inside every silence you carry for him.  

I want to be the place you don’t have to pretend.  

I want to be the home you run to when the mask slips.  

I want *you*, Kim.  

Broken.  

Whole.  

*Mine.*”

Kim’s back arched.  

A broken sound escaped him, half-sob, half-prayer.  

Vegas leaned down, mouth on one nipple, gentle suction that drew a shattered moan.  

Kim’s fingers clawed into Vegas’s hair, anchoring, *pleading*.  

Vegas lavished the same worship on the other nipple, fingers curling slow inside Kim, thumb a steady pressure on his clit.  

Kim came with a silent scream, pussy clenching, squirting in a warm rush that soaked Vegas’s wrist, the mat, the sand.  

Tears streamed into his ears.

Vegas kissed every tear, every tremor.  

Lapped at him gently, tongue soothing, drawing out the aftershocks until Kim was sobbing *please, please, please*.

They made love like the world was ending and beginning in the same breath.

Vegas on his back, Kim above.  

Kim sank down inch by inch, eyes locked, hands clasped over Vegas’s heart.  

Rode him slow, hips rolling in devotion, clit dragging against Vegas’s skin.  

Vegas’s thumbs traced the inside of Kim’s wrists, grounding him.  

Kim came with a shattered gasp, pussy clenching, squirting softly, tears falling onto Vegas’s chest.  

Vegas licked them from his own skin.

Vegas rolled them, Kim beneath.  

Entered slow, deep, forehead to forehead.  

Kissed him through every thrust, *I love you* in every breath, every slide.  

Kim’s legs locked around his waist, heels digging in like he could fuse them.  

Came again, whispering Vegas’s name like a wound, pussy pulsing, warm release soaking them both.

On their sides, Vegas behind, one arm under Kim’s neck, the other cradling his hip.  

Slow, deep strokes, each one a vow.  

Vegas’s mouth on Kim’s shoulder, murmuring *you’re safe, you’re mine, I’ve got you* between sobs.  

Kim came quietly, tears streaming, pussy fluttering, another gentle squirt.  

Vegas kissed the tears, held him tighter.

Kim on top again, facing him.  

Vegas sat up, arms around him, forehead to forehead.  

Kim rode him slow, hands on Vegas’s face, thumbs tracing his lips.  

Came with a soft sob, pussy clenching, squirting gently between them.  

Vegas whispered *stay, stay, stay* against his mouth, voice breaking.

They lost count.  

Positions blurred, missionary with legs over shoulders, Vegas eating him between rounds, Kim on his knees riding Vegas’s tongue while Vegas held his hands like lifelines.  

Endless.  

Tender.  

Squirting.  

Cumming.  

Tears and kisses and *I love you*s until the words dissolved into raw sound.

The candle drowned.  

The moon bled out.

Vegas held Kim close in the aftermath, both trembling.  

Kissed the tears from his cheeks, the salt from his lips.  

Traced the soft flush on his chest like reading braille.

Kim pulled away slowly, stood on legs that barely held him.  

Walked to the edge of the water, waves lapping at his ankles.  

Turned back to Vegas, voice shredded.

“Hold me into the sea,” he said.  

“Hold me and tell me you loved me *really*.”

Vegas was there in a heartbeat.  

Arms around Kim from behind, chest to back, chin on his shoulder.  

The water rose to their thighs, cold and alive.

“I loved you really,” Vegas whispered, lips brushing Kim’s ear, voice cracking on every word.  

“I loved you when you left bite marks on my shoulder to stay quiet.  

I loved you when you cried in my shower because you couldn’t face the mirror.  

I loved you when you smiled for him and came apart for me.  

I loved you every night you chose the dark because the light hurt too much.  

I loved you when you said nothing and when you said everything.  

I loved you until my heart stopped knowing how to beat without you.  

I love you now.  

I will love you when you walk away and pretend this never happened.  

I will love you when you’re old and gray and still carrying me in your ribs.  

I will love you until the sea swallows the sky and the stars forget their names.  

*Really*, Kim.  

*Really.*”

Kim turned in his arms, faced him.  

The water swirled around their waists.  

He kissed Vegas, desperate, .  

Vegas kissed him back like a man drowning in truth, hands fisted in Kim’s hair, anchoring him to the earth.

They stood there until the sky caught fire.  

Until the first fishing boat hummed.  

Until the world remembered them.

Vegas wrapped Kim in the dry corner of the blanket, pulled him down to sit between his legs.  

Kim leaned back against his chest.  

Vegas’s arms came around him, chin on his shoulder.

They watched the sun breach the horizon, painting them gold.  

A gull cried overhead.

Kim spoke so quietly the wind almost stole it.  

“I don’t know how to leave you.”

Vegas kissed the shell of his ear.  

“You don’t have to.  

Just leave the room.  

I’ll be in the bruise on your hip.  

I’ll be in the song you hum when no one’s listening.  

I’ll be in the silence after you say *I’m fine*.  

You’ll never really leave me, Kim.  

And I’ll never stop waiting.”

Kim turned in his arms, buried his face in Vegas’s neck.  

Breathed him in, salt, smoke, *truth*.  

“I love you too,” he said.  

The words cracked open his chest.  

“I love you so much it hurts to breathe.  

I love you so much I’m terrified of the morning.”

Vegas held him tighter.  

“Then breathe with me.  

Right now.  

Right here.  

Breathe.”

They stayed like that until the sun was fully up.  

Until the resort stirred.  

Until the world remembered their names.

Kim stood first.  

Vegas helped him dress, fingers lingering on every button, every tie.  

Kim did the same for Vegas.  

No rush.  

Just touch.

At the edge of the path, Kim stopped.  

Looked back.

Vegas stood in the sand, blanket around his shoulders, eyes red but steady.  

He lifted one hand, not a wave.  

A vow.

Kim lifted his in return.  

Then turned and walked away.

The villa waited, quiet as a held breath.  

Chay slept on, one arm reaching for the empty side of the bed, face peaceful in the newborn light.  

Kim showered first—quick, scalding, scrubbing away the sand and salt and the echo of Vegas's touch.  

He slipped into bed beside Chay, let the warmth of his husband pull him close without waking.  

Chay murmured something soft in his sleep, nuzzled into Kim's neck.  

Kim closed his eyes, the ring on his finger heavy against Chay's skin.

The honeymoon was over.  

The love had only just begun.  

And somewhere, in the space between two heartbeats,  

Vegas was waiting.

Chapter Text

Their final morning on the island felt unreal.

Suitcases half-packed, sunlight pouring through the curtains, Chay humming as he folded shirts.

Kim tried to pretend everything was normal, but his phone buzzed with a message that froze him in place.

Vegas: I’m somewhere in the hotel.

Kim’s pulse jumped.

He slipped out quietly, telling Chay he’d pick up the printed boarding passes.

Down the hallway, near the empty lounge, Vegas was waiting — leaning against the wall like he belonged there, like he always did.

Kim approached carefully.

 “We’re leaving tonight.”

Vegas nodded once, calm.

 “I know.”

Kim stared at him, unsure what he expected to hear next. But what Vegas said made his breath stop.

“I’ll be here for two more weeks.”

Kim blinked. “Two… weeks?”

Vegas smiled slightly.

 “There’s a board meeting I need to attend. And…”

He paused, watching Kim’s reaction.

“This hotel’s mine.”

Kim’s jaw dropped. “Y—yours?”

“Mm,” Vegas hummed casually, as if it were nothing. “Technically my branch owns it. So I’ll be around. Working. Staring at the same ocean you were just enjoying.”

Kim swallowed hard. “Two weeks…”

Vegas stepped closer, lifting a hand to Kim’s cheek. His thumb brushed the skin gently, too gently.

 “I’ll be back soon, babe.”

Kim’s breath caught. Vegas leaned in, and Kim met him halfway in a quick, stolen kiss — the kind that said everything they weren’t allowed to say aloud. Kim whispered:

 “I’ll miss you… too much.”

Vegas’s fingers lingered at Kim’s jaw.

“Tell me where you’ll be staying when you go back. I want to know.”

Kim looked down. “My condo. Same place as before.”

 “Good,” Vegas said softly. “Makes it easy. I’ll come. After this trip. After the meetings.”

They stood close, voices low, planning more than they should — when Vegas would return, when they’d see each other next, how long Vegas would stay in the city, how often they could meet without raising suspicion.

Every word tangled tighter around them.

Then—

The sound of footsteps.

A bright, innocent voice.

“Phì Vegas!”

Kim flinched so hard he almost stepped away.

Vegas straightened instantly, face shifting into a polite, distant expression.

Chay stood there, smiling, completely unaware.

Holding a bag of snacks, cheeks flushed from the heat.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were here too!” Chay said cheerfully.

Kim forced a smile so stiff it hurt.

Vegas nodded politely, bowing slightly.

 “Hello,” he said smoothly. “First time seeing you here.”

Kim’s heart hammered.

Chay kept talking, excited and sweet, completely oblivious to the storm he’d just walked into.

Vegas’s eyes flicked to Kim for one brief second — a warning, a promise, a secret.

Kim exhaled shakily, forcing himself to play along.

And the three stood there in the hallway,

pretending this was the first time they’d ever met.

Chay was excited, scrolling through honeymoon photos, talking about printing them and making an album.

Kim nodded, answered softly, but his thoughts were still stuck back in the hallway —

By the time they reached the boarding gate, Kim felt like his heartbeat was too loud.

Chay tugged his sleeve gently.

“Hyung, are you tired?”

Kim forced a smile.

“A little. It was a long week.”

They checked their luggage, went through security, and moved toward the waiting area.

Just as Kim sat down, his phone buzzed.

He glanced around — Chay was busy tying his shoelace.

Kim unlocked his screen.

Vegas: Turn around.

Kim stiffened.

Slowly, carefully, he looked over his shoulder.

There — just beyond the crowd, leaning casually against a column —

Vegas.

No sunglasses.

No disguise.

Just Vegas, watching him with a cool, unreadable expression.

When their eyes met, Vegas’s mouth curved into the faintest smile.

Then he walked toward them.

Kim’s breath caught.

No… no… don’t come here…

Vegas didn’t stop until he reached them, and then — perfectly polite — he bowed slightly.

“Kim. Safe flight.”

Kim swallowed. “Why are you—”

 “Board meeting,” Vegas said smoothly. “You know.”

Chay’s eyes lit up.

“Phì Vegas! You’re traveling too?”

Vegas’s expression softened into a harmless smile.

 “No. Dropping someone off. I saw you two by coincidence.”

Kim’s stomach twisted. Coincidence, my ass.

Chay, completely unaware, kept chatting.

Vegas looked at him with the perfect polite distance of someone meeting an acquaintance.

To anyone watching, the three of them were strangers who barely knew each other.

Except Kim felt like every breath he took was visible.

The loudspeaker announced their boarding group.

Chay grabbed their tickets excitedly.

 “Hyung! That’s us!”

Vegas leaned slightly toward Kim — just enough that only Kim could hear.

“Twelve days,” he murmured. “Then I’m coming to you.”

Kim froze.

Vegas stepped back, expression blank again.

 “Safe trip.”

Chay waved at him cheerfully as they walked toward the line.

Kim didn’t wave.

He kept walking, heart pounding, every nerve burning with a guilt he couldn’t name.

But as they handed their tickets to the attendant, Kim felt it —

Vegas’s gaze still on him,

following him,

The line moved slowly, passengers chatting around them, suitcase wheels bumping along the carpet.

Chay kept shifting on his feet, too full of excitement to stand still.

Kim wasn’t excited.

He couldn’t even hear properly — all the sounds in the airport felt distant, muffled under the weight pounding against his ribs.

“Twelve days.”

Vegas’s whisper echoed like a pulse under his skin.

Kim forced his eyes forward, forced each breath to stay even.

He didn’t dare turn around again — he could still feel Vegas behind him, like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

Chay tugged him closer in the line.

 “Hyung, what do you want to eat on the plane? Noodles? Or should we share something?”

Kim blinked, swallowed, and managed,

“Anything is fine.”

Chay smiled and squeezed his hand.

They reached the jet bridge. The attendant scanned their boarding passes with a soft beep.

Chay stepped inside the tunnel first, humming lightly.

Kim followed behind him — but just before he crossed the threshold, he let his eyes shift to the side.

Through the glass wall, across the terminal, half-hidden behind the line of passengers…

Vegas stood exactly where Kim had left him.

Hands in pockets.

Expression unreadable.

Eyes locked on Kim like he was the only person in the airport.

No wave.

No smile.

Just a silent promise.

Kim’s breath hitched, barely.

The attendant said, “Sir?”

He stepped inside the tunnel.

The door behind him slid closed, sealing the space with a soft hiss.

Chay walked ahead, oblivious, pointing at the window view they’d have.

Kim paused just for a second, feeling the weight of that stare even though the wall was between them now.

Twelve days.

Twelve days until Vegas walked back into his city.

Into his life.

Into the parts of him he couldn’t say no to.

Chay turned, smiling brightly.

 “Hyung, come sit! We got good seats!”

Kim nodded, forcing himself to move.

But as he sat beside Chay and watched the runway lights blur past the window, one truth settled heavy in his chest:

Leaving the island wasn’t the end.

It was the countdown.

Chapter Text

Home smelled the same.

Clean sheets.

Familiar walls.

The faint trace of Kim’s cologne lingering in the hallway.

Chay kicked off his shoes the moment they stepped inside, stretching with a happy sigh.

“Ahhh… I missed this bed,” he laughed. “I’m unpacking tomorrow. Tonight I’m doing nothing.”

Kim smiled faintly and set their bags down. The apartment felt smaller than he remembered — like the walls were listening.

They showered, changed, ordered food.

Normal things.

Safe things.

Chay sprawled across the couch, half-asleep before the food even arrived, head resting on Kim’s thigh. Kim absently ran his fingers through Chay’s hair, watching the city lights blink outside the window.

It should have felt peaceful.

Instead, Kim felt like he was waiting.

His phone buzzed.

Once.

Kim froze.

Chay hummed softly, eyes still closed.

 “Message?”

Kim didn’t answer right away. He waited, counted his breaths, then reached for the phone.

Vegas: Home already?

Kim’s throat tightened.

He typed back carefully.

Kim: Yes.

The reply came almost instantly.

Vegas: Good. I like knowing where you are.

Kim locked the phone and set it face-down on the table.

Chay shifted, blinking awake.

“Who was it?”

Work,” Kim said automatically.

Chay nodded, trusting as always, and curled closer.

That night, Chay fell asleep fast, exhausted from travel. Kim lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling, replaying the airport, the look in Vegas’s eyes, the words twelve days carved into his thoughts.

His phone buzzed again.

Kim carefully slipped out of bed and went to the balcony, closing the door softly behind him.

Vegas: Twelve days starts now.

Kim leaned against the railing, city air cool against his skin.

Kim: You said you’d wait.

There was a pause this time.

Vegas: I am waiting.

I’m just reminding you I exist.

Kim closed his eyes.

Inside, Chay murmured in his sleep, turning over, reaching for him instinctively even in dreams.

Kim didn’t remember deciding to call.

One moment he was standing on the balcony, city lights blinking below, Vegas’s last message still glowing on the screen — and the next, the phone was ringing.

It connected on the third ring.

“Kim?”

Vegas’s voice was low, familiar. Closer than text.

Kim exhaled without realizing he’d been holding his breath.

 “Yeah… it’s me.”

There was a brief pause, then a softer tone.

 “Did something happen?”

Kim leaned his elbows on the railing, watching the traffic far below.

 “No. I just… wanted to hear you.”

Vegas didn’t tease him. That alone made Kim’s chest tighten.

 “I’m still here,” Vegas said quietly. “Same hotel. Meetings all day. Boring as hell.”

Kim smiled faintly.

 “How is it there? The island, I mean.”

 “Too quiet now,” Vegas replied. “Doesn’t feel the same without you.”

Kim’s fingers tightened around the phone.

 “You said two weeks,” Kim murmured. “I keep thinking about it.”

Vegas chuckled softly.

 “I knew you would.”

There was a comfortable silence, filled only by the sound of Vegas’s breathing on the other end.

Then Vegas said it — not dramatic, not loud.

 “I miss you so much.”

Kim closed his eyes.

The words sank straight into his chest, warm and heavy and dangerous.

For a second he thought about lying. About deflecting.

He didn’t.

 “I miss you too,” Kim replied softly.

Vegas didn’t speak right away. When he did, his voice was gentler.

 “Hearing that… makes this wait harder.”

Kim laughed under his breath.

 “You’re the one who chose to stay.”

 “True,” Vegas said. “But I didn’t choose to stop wanting you.”

Kim rested his forehead against the cool glass of the balcony door. Inside, Chay slept peacefully, unaware. Outside, the city hummed.

 “When you come back,” Kim asked quietly, “how long will you stay?”

Vegas didn’t hesitate.

 “As long as you’ll let me.”

Kim’s heart skipped. He could feel it now — the way something inside him was opening, blooming slowly, painfully sweet.

They talked about small things after that.

What Kim ate for dinner.

How Vegas hated early meetings.

The way the island sunsets looked different when you weren’t watching them together.

When they finally hung up, Kim stayed where he was, phone still pressed to his ear, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

For the first time since coming home, the waiting didn’t feel empty.

It felt like anticipation.

Chay noticed the little things first.

Kim started keeping his phone face-down.

Not hiding it — just… turning it over.

As if it were a habit.

He smiled more, too. Not the polite, careful smile Kim always wore — but a softer one, the kind that came without effort. Sometimes it appeared when Kim was alone, looking at nothing in particular.

One evening, Chay paused in the doorway.

Kim was sitting on the couch, phone pressed to his ear, voice low.

> “Mm… I know,” Kim said quietly.

A pause.

A small laugh. “You always say that.”

Chay lingered, not eavesdropping — just listening to the rhythm of Kim’s voice.

It sounded… lighter.

When Kim hung up, he looked up and froze for half a second.

 “Oh. You’re back already.”

 “Yeah,” Chay said easily. “Who were you talking to?”

Kim didn’t hesitate.

 “A client. Late call.”

Chay nodded, accepting it — but later that night, as they lay in bed, he stared at the ceiling longer than usual.

Something had shifted.

He just didn’t know what yet.

The calls changed too.

Vegas stopped talking only about meetings and work.

He started asking about Kim.

 “Did you sleep well?”

“What did you eat today?”

“Did you smile today, or was that just for me?”

Kim would scoff softly.

 “You ask too many questions.”

 “Because I want to know you,” Vegas replied calmly. “Not the version everyone else sees.”

Those words stayed with Kim long after the call ended.

Some nights, Vegas’s voice dropped lower, more intimate — not suggestive, just… close.

 “I imagine you on that balcony,” he said once.

“The city behind you. That little frown you make when you’re thinking too much.”

Kim’s breath hitched.

 “You don’t know that.”

Vegas smiled into the phone.

 “I do.”

Kim stopped correcting him.

Another night, Kim whispered,

“You shouldn’t talk like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re… already here.”

Vegas didn’t deny it.

 “Maybe I am,” he said softly. “Just not in the way you can see yet.”

Kim lay awake long after the call ended, phone warm in his hand.

---

A few days later, Chay set a cup of tea in front of Kim and sat across from him.

“Hyung,” he said gently, “are you okay?”

Kim blinked.

“Of course.”

Chay tilted his head.

“You just seem… somewhere else lately.”

For a moment, Kim thought about lying again.

Instead, he said carefully,

 “I’m just tired. Work. Life.”

Chay reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

“If something’s bothering you,” he said softly, “you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Kim’s chest tightened.

That night, when Vegas called, Kim’s voice trembled just a little.

 “Someone almost noticed.”

 “Did they?” Vegas asked quietly.

 “No.”

A pause.

 “Then we’re still okay,” Vegas said. “And I’ll be there soon.”

Kim closed his eyes.

Day twelve was getting closer.

And now —

there was more than one heart standing in its path.

Chapter Text

The morning felt ordinary.

Chay stood by the door, adjusting his watch, laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Kim followed him out, still half in sleepwear, phone in hand with notes from last night’s lyric discussion.

 “I have meetings all day,” Chay said, leaning in.

“Same,” Kim replied. “Call me if you get tired.”

Chay smiled, soft and familiar, and kissed Kim at the door — slow, warm, unhurried.

 “I’ll come home late,” he said.

“Okay,” Kim answered easily. “Take care.”

Chay squeezed his hand once more, then left.

The door closed.

The apartment went quiet.

Kim exhaled and turned back inside.

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen smelled like garlic and oil. Kim had his laptop open on the counter, earbuds in, a meeting call running in the background.

 “No, the second line needs to flow better,” Kim said into the mic.

“Try stretching the vowel there—”

The doorbell rang.

Kim frowned.

He muted the call, glanced at the clock.

Too early for deliveries.

The bell rang again.

 “One second,” Kim said, distracted, pulling out an earbud. He walked to the door, irritation flickering across his face.

He opened it.

And the world tilted.

Vegas stood there.

Real.

Holding a huge bouquet of flowers — messy, bright, overwhelming — and a small suitcase at his feet.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Kim’s breath left him in a sharp, broken exhale.

> “You—” His voice cracked. “

Vegas smiled softly.

Kim didn’t think.

He reached out, yanked Vegas inside by the collar, slammed the door shut behind them, and cut the meeting call with one tap.

The flowers hit the floor.

Kim’s arms wrapped around Vegas like he was afraid he’d disappear again. Vegas dropped the suitcase and held him just as tightly.

They kissed — not rushed, not careful — just full of everything they’d been holding back through calls and waiting and distance.

Kim pulled back only when his chest started to ache. His eyes were wet.

You’re here,” he whispered.

“I am,” Vegas said, forehead resting against his. “I couldn’t wait.”

Kim laughed softly, breathless, and kissed him again — shorter this time, trembling.

 “I was just… cooking,” Kim said weakly, gesturing vaguely.

“Good,” Vegas murmured. “I’m starving.”

Kim huffed a shaky laugh and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You always do this,” he said.

“Show up when I’m not ready.”

Vegas brushed his thumb gently under Kim’s eye.

 “You’re always ready,” he said quietly. “You just pretend you’re not.”

They stood there in the middle of the apartment — flowers on the floor, laptop forgotten, the city humming outside — holding each other like the waiting had finally cracked open.

And somewhere in the back of Kim’s mind, a small, dangerous thought whispered:

Chay won’t be home until late.

He kicked off his shoes like he’d done it a hundred times before, picked up the fallen flowers, and set them carefully in a vase Kim hadn’t used in months. The suitcase rested near the wall — not unpacked, but not temporary either.

Kim watched him from the kitchen, arms folded loosely across his chest.

 “How long?” Kim asked, voice soft.

Vegas glanced back.

 “As long as I’m welcome.”

Kim didn’t answer — he just turned back to the stove.

That was answer enough.

Vegas leaned against the counter, watching Kim move around the kitchen. The way he tied his hair back when he focused. The small frown he made when he tasted the sauce.

 “You always cook when you’re nervous,” Vegas said.

Kim scoffed lightly.

“You don’t know that.”

Vegas smiled.

 “I do.”

They ate late, standing instead of sitting, sharing quiet smiles between bites. It felt strangely normal — too normal — like they were playing house in borrowed time.

Afterward, Kim returned to the living room, laptop open, notes scattered around him. His meeting had ended, but the work hadn’t. Lyrics filled the screen, half-written lines blinking back at him.

Vegas settled on the arm of the couch, close but not touching.

“Can I listen?” he asked.

Kim hesitated — then nodded.

It’s rough,” he warned.

Vegas leaned in, reading silently. The room filled with the soft clicking of keys and the distant city noise. Every now and then, Kim muttered a line under his breath, testing how it sounded.

That line,” Vegas said suddenly. “Change it.”

Kim looked up.

 “You didn’t even—”

 “I did,” Vegas interrupted gently. “You’re holding back.”

Kim stared at him for a moment, then sighed and deleted the sentence.

“You always say that.”

 “Because you always do,” Vegas replied. “Write it like you mean it. Like you’re talking to someone who can’t hear you.”

Kim’s fingers hovered — then moved.

The lyrics changed. Grew softer. Sharper. More honest.

Vegas watched him like that for a long time — not touching, not speaking — just being there. When Kim finally leaned back, exhausted, Vegas reached out and brushed his knuckles against Kim’s hand.

 “That’s the one,” he said quietly.

Kim smiled — small, real.

For a moment, the apartment felt like a pocket outside time.

Then Kim glanced at the clock.

 “Chay won’t be back for hours,” he said, not quite looking at Vegas.

Vegas nodded once.

 “I know.”

Kim stepped forward first, hands fisting Vegas’s shirt like he was terrified the distance would swallow him again. Their mouths crashed together—deep, desperate, no room for gentleness. It was the kiss of days apart, of late-night calls that ended in frustrated sighs and unspoken promises.

Kim pulled back just enough to gasp.

“I want you,” he said, voice raw, honest.

Vegas’s hands slid to Kim’s waist, anchoring him.

“I missed you so much,” Vegas whispered, forehead pressed to Kim’s. “Every night.”

They kissed again—slower now, deeper, tongues sliding like they were mapping every inch they’d forgotten. Vegas’s thumb traced Kim’s jaw, reverent, possessive.

Then Vegas stepped back, eyes dark but soft.

“Wait.”

He crossed to the suitcase, opened it, and pulled out a small velvet box. Returned. Placed it in Kim’s palm.

Inside: a delicate silver pendant—simple chain, a small lock-shaped charm. Intimate. Meaningful.

“For you,” Vegas said quietly. “I saw it and thought of you.”

Kim swallowed hard. “Vegas…”

Vegas met his gaze.

“Trust me.”

Kim nodded.

Vegas’s voice dropped, low and certain.

“Strip.”

Kim didn’t hesitate. Shirt first, then pants, underwear—slow, deliberate, eyes never leaving Vegas’s. When he stood bare, skin flushed, boy-pussy already glistening between his thighs, the pendant the only thing he wore, the room felt charged.

Vegas stepped close, fingers brushing Kim’s collarbone as he fastened the chain. The lock settled cool against Kim’s chest, right over his heart.

He kissed him then—soft, lingering.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Vegas murmured. “Exactly like this.”

Kim closed his eyes, forehead against Vegas’s shoulder, the pendant a gentle weight reminding him who he belonged to tonight.

They started on the couch.

Vegas pushed Kim down onto the soft leather, mouth on his neck, hands spreading his thighs wide. Vegas undress hurry and He didn’t bother with foreplay—Kim was already soaked. Vegas slid in with one deep thrust, filling Kim’s pussy completely. Kim cried out, back arching, pendant swinging between his chest as Vegas fucked him hard and steady, couch creaking under them, Kim’s legs wrapped around Vegas’s waist until he came with a shuddering gasp, pussy clenching, juices soaking the cushions.

They didn’t stop.

Vegas carried him to the bed, laid him out like a feast.

This time slower—Vegas on his back, Kim straddling him, sinking down inch by inch until he was seated fully, pendant dangling between them. Kim rode him lazily at first, rolling his hips, , then faster, harder, until Vegas gripped his waist and thrust up to meet him. Kim came again, pussy squirting around Vegas’s cock, soaking the sheets, pendant glinting with every bounce.

The table was next.

Vegas bent Kim over the dining table, chest pressed to cool wood, pendant clinking against the surface. He took him from behind—rough, relentless, one hand fisted in Kim’s hair, the other rubbing his clit in tight circles. Kim moaned into the table, legs shaking, pussy dripping down his thighs as Vegas pounded deep, filling him over and over until Kim squirted hard, juices splashing the floor, pendant swinging wildly.

They stumbled to the large glass window in the living room.

City lights glittered below, thirty floors down. Vegas pressed Kim against the cold glass—chest to window, pendant trapped between glass and skin, breasts flattened, nipples hard from the chill. Vegas entered him again from behind, one hand splayed on the glass beside Kim’s, the other gripping his hip. The city watched—or could have—as Vegas fucked him slow and deep, then faster, harder, until Kim was sobbing Vegas’s name, pussy clenching, squirting down his legs in hot streams that fogged the glass.

Last, the kitchen table.

Vegas lifted Kim onto it, legs spread wide, pendant resting between his chests. He ate Kim out first—tongue deep in his pussy, sucking his clit until Kim was writhing, pendant clutched in his fist. Then Vegas stood and slid back inside, fucking him face-to-face, eyes locked, hands intertwined. Slow, intimate, every thrust deliberate until they came together—Kim’s pussy milking Vegas, squirting one final time, juices pooling on the table beneath them.

They collapsed there, tangled, breathless, pendant warm against Kim’s skin.

Vegas kissed it, then Kim’s lips.

“Mine,” he whispered.

Kim smiled, exhausted, complete.

“Always.

”Kim’s laugh bubbled up first, soft and breathless, as he looked around the living room—cum and squirt streaking the large glass window, puddles on the floor, the kitchen table still sticky, the couch and bed thoroughly ruined.

“Who’s going to clean this mess?” he asked, voice husky, cheeks flushed as he leaned against Vegas’s chest, the pendant cool between them.

Vegas chuckled low, arms tightening around Kim’s waist, pulling him closer despite the slick mess between their bodies.

“I’ll call someone right now  he murmured, lips brushing Kim’s temple. “Professional cleaners. Discreet ones. I don’t care about anything except you.”

He tilted Kim’s chin up and kissed him—slow, deep, tasting salt and sweetness and everything they’d just shared.

When he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice was rough with emotion.

“I love you.”

Kim’s lips trembled.  

His eyes filled instantly, tears gathering at the corners, threatening to spill.  

He’d waited so long to hear it again—not over a phone, not in a text, but here, skin to skin, heart to heart.

“I love you too,” he whispered, voice cracking on the words.

The tears slipped free as he surged forward, kissing Vegas desperately, hands cupping his face, pendant pressing between their chests like a promise finally kept.

They kissed until the tears dried, until breath was shared and hearts beat in the same rhythm.

And somewhere in the quiet aftermath, with the city lights still glittering beyond the streaked window, Kim smiled against Vegas’s lips.

“Let the cleaners earn their money,” he murmured.

Vegas laughed softly, holding him tighter.

“As long as I get to keep making the mess with you.”

Kim’s answer was another kiss—slow, certain, endless.

Chapter Text

Afternoon

Kim still went to the studio.

He told himself it was normal. Deadlines didn’t care about nausea or sleepless nights. Work was the one place where he could disappear into something that didn’t ask questions.

The studio smelled like coffee and old cables. Familiar. Safe.

He sat down at the console, headphones on, fingers moving automatically over the keys. Lyrics filled the screen, then vanished, then came back rewritten. Every now and then, the nausea stirred again — dull, insistent — but he pushed through it.

Around noon, his phone vibrated.

Vegas: I’ll come by this afternoon.

Kim stared at the message longer than necessary.

Kim: Okay.

The hours blurred. Meetings. Revisions. A phone call with a producer that went longer than planned. Kim barely noticed the time until the light outside the studio window shifted, turning soft and gold.

Afternoon.

He checked the clock.

3:42 PM.

His phone buzzed again.

Vegas: Almost there.

Kim’s focus shattered.

He removed his headphones, suddenly too aware of his surroundings — the empty couch, the closed door, the quiet hum of equipment. He stood, pacing once, then stopped himself and went back to the console, pretending he was still working.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

Then a knock.

Not loud. Not rushed.

Just… certain.

Kim’s heart jumped. He crossed the room and opened the door.

Vegas stood there, jacket slung over one shoulder, expression unreadable until his eyes lifted and softened.

Vegas closed the studio door behind him, the click soft but final. Before Kim could say anything, Vegas stepped forward and pulled him in, arms wrapping around him firmly.

Kim let himself be held.

He shifted, settling onto Vegas’s lap without thinking, knees bracketing his hips, arms sliding around his shoulders. Vegas’s hands came to his back automatically, steady and warm.

They kissed—slow at first, then deeper—familiar and grounding. Kim sighed into it, forehead resting against Vegas’s cheek when they finally pulled back. He leaned in, breathing him in, nose tucked against Vegas’s neck.

 “You smell like home,” Kim murmured.

Vegas chuckled softly, the vibration warm against Kim’s skin.

 “You’re ridiculous.”

Kim smiled and hugged him tighter, inhaling again, letting the tension ease out of his shoulders. Vegas tilted his head and kissed him once more—unhurried, reassuring—then brushed a thumb along Kim’s jaw.

 “Better?” Vegas asked quietly.

Kim nodded, still pressed close.

“Yeah.”

Kim stayed where he was, perched on Vegas’s lap, arms loose around his shoulders. The studio lights were dim, the hum of equipment a low background sound. Vegas didn’t rush him. He never did when Kim went quiet like this.

Vegas brushed his thumb slowly along Kim’s spine.

“You’ve been tense since I walked in,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”

Kim shook his head at first, pressing his forehead to Vegas’s shoulder.

Nothing. I’m just tired.”

Vegas didn’t accept that. He never did.

“You’re lying,” he said gently. “Your voice changes when you do.”

Kim let out a small, breathy laugh.

“You’re too observant.”

“About you?” Vegas replied. “Always.”

Kim shifted slightly, then sighed, the sound deep and honest.

“I threw up this morning.”

Vegas stilled. Just for a second.

What?” His hand tightened at Kim’s waist—not rough, just protective. “Since when?”

“Just today,” Kim said quickly. “Probably stress. Or something I ate.”

Vegas leaned back enough to look at him properly, eyes scanning Kim’s face.

And you still came to work.”

Kim shrugged.

 “I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

Vegas exhaled through his nose, something between concern and fond frustration.

 “You worry me,” he said quietly. “That’s not optional.”

Kim’s lips curved into a small smile. He leaned in again, resting his cheek against Vegas’s neck.

 “I feel better now,” he admitted. “Your scent… it calms me.”

Vegas chuckled softly.

 “That’s not medicine.”

 “It works,” Kim said, eyes closed.

Vegas kissed the side of Kim’s head, slow and reassuring.

 “If it happens again, you tell me,” he said. “No hiding.”

Kim nodded against his shoulder.

 “Okay.”

They stayed like that for a while—Vegas’s hand steady at Kim’s back, Kim breathing him in—until the studio felt less heavy, until the afternoon no longer pressed so close.

Vegas murmured near his ear,

 “We’ll take it slow today.”

Kim hesitated only a second before speaking, voice quiet but sure.

 “Vegas… baby,” he said softly, fingers curling into the fabric of Vegas’s shirt. “Can I stay at your condo tonight?”

Vegas’s face changed immediately — surprise first, then something warm and unmistakably happy. His smile spread slowly, eyes shining.

 “Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “Come on. I was waiting for you to say that.”

Kim chuckled under his breath, relief and affection mixing together. He leaned in and kissed Vegas again, brief and tender.

Vegas rested his forehead against Kim’s.

“So,” he asked gently, “what are you going to tell your husband?”

The word landed heavier than Vegas intended.

Kim’s smile faded just a little. He looked down, thoughts racing. He knew Chay wouldn’t argue — that almost made it worse.

 “I’ll say I’m staying at a friend’s condo,” Kim said after a moment. “Music work. Late session. He’ll understand.”

Vegas watched him closely.

“You sure?”

Kim nodded, even if his chest felt tight.

Yeah. He trusts me.”

He reached for his phone, fingers hovering for a second before typing.

Kim: I might stay over at a friend’s place tonight. We’re working late on some music stuff.

The reply came faster than he expected.

Chay: Okay hyung 😊 Don’t overwork yourself. Call me when you’re free.

Kim stared at the screen, guilt pricking softly at the edges of his heart.

“He said okay,” Kim murmured.

Vegas didn’t celebrate. He just nodded and brushed his thumb across Kim’s knuckles.

 “Finish your work,” he said. “I’ll wait.”

And he did.

Vegas stayed quiet while Kim returned to the console, sitting nearby, watching without interrupting. He handed Kim water when he forgot to drink. Leaned close to read a line when Kim asked his opinion. Never rushed him.

By the time Kim shut the laptop, the studio lights felt dimmer, the city outside darker.

Vegas stood and offered his hand.

“Ready?”

Kim took it.

And together, they left the studio — not in a hurry, not looking back — carrying a decision that would follow them long after tonight.

Kim smiled, heart easing, and stayed right where he was.g on leaving.

…And—

They left the studio together.

Vegas walked a half-step behind Kim at first, letting him lock up, letting him breathe. The city outside had shifted into evening—cooler air, softer lights, the kind of quiet that felt like permission.

In the car, Kim rested his head against the window, exhaustion finally catching up to him. Vegas noticed immediately.

“You okay?” he asked, starting the engine.

Kim nodded, then shook his head.

I don’t know. I’m just… tired.”

Vegas didn’t push. He reached over at a red light and laced their fingers together, grounding him.

 “You don’t have to explain tonight,” he said. “Just be here.”

Kim squeezed his hand back.

The condo was calm when they arrived—clean lines, low lights, the faint scent of wood and citrus. Vegas kicked off his shoes and took Kim’s jacket without a word, hanging it neatly by the door like this was already familiar.

Kim walked in slowly, taking it in.

It’s quiet,” he said.

Vegas smiled.

I kept it that way. For days like this.”

Kim let out a small laugh and sat on the couch, shoulders finally dropping. Vegas brought him a glass of water, then sat beside him—not crowding, just close enough to feel.

 “You can shower if you want,” Vegas said. “Or sleep. Or do nothing.”

They dried off slowly, towels soft against flushed skin, stealing kisses between steps.  

The apartment felt warmer now, the earlier tension eased into something lazy and content.

Vegas threw together a simple dinner—stir-fried vegetables, rice, some leftover grilled chicken—nothing fancy, but Kim ate like he hadn’t in days, perched on a stool at the counter, legs swinging, smiling at Vegas across the small kitchen island.

When they finished, they migrated back to the couch, plates abandoned in the sink for later.

Vegas sat first, pulling Kim down with him until Kim was straddling his lap, knees sinking into the cushions on either side.  

The pendant still hung around Kim’s neck, catching the low light as he settled.

Vegas’s hands slid up Kim’s thighs, thumbs tracing slow circles.  

He leaned in and kissed him—soft at first, then deeper, heat building gradual but undeniable.  

The sexual tension that had simmered all evening flared again, thick and electric between them.

Vegas pulled back just enough, lips brushing Kim’s as he spoke.

“Do you want…?”

Kim nodded without hesitation, eyes dark, breath already quickening.

Vegas’s voice dropped, low and certain.

“Face the mirror.”

There was a long, full-length mirror leaning against the wall near the couch—tall enough to catch everything.

Kim turned in Vegas’s lap, back to Vegas’s chest, legs still spread over his thighs.  

The mirror reflected them perfectly: Kim naked and flushed, pendant resting between his collarbones, Vegas behind him, hands already moving.

Vegas’s fingers trailed up Kim’s sides, then forward, cupping his breasts, thumbs circling the nipples until they hardened under the touch.  

He kissed the side of Kim’s neck, eyes locked on the mirror, watching Kim watch them.

Kim’s head fell back against Vegas’s shoulder with a soft moan, hips already shifting restlessly.

In the mirror, he saw Vegas’s hand slide lower—one palm splayed over his belly, the other dipping between his thighs, fingers parting his folds, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over his clit.

Kim’s breath hitched.  

He watched it all: the way his pussy glistened under Vegas’s touch, the way his hips rolled forward chasing more friction, the flush spreading down his chest.

Vegas kissed his shoulder, then his neck, fingers circling faster, dipping inside just enough to tease before pulling back to rub again.

“Look at yourself,” Vegas murmured against his ear, eyes meeting Kim’s in the mirror. “So beautiful when you let go.”

Kim moaned louder, head lolling on Vegas’s shoulder, hips grinding down against the hand working him open.  

Two fingers slid inside now, curling, thrusting slow and deep while the thumb kept pressure on his clit.

“I love you,” Kim gasped, eyes glassy in the reflection. “Love you so much—”

Vegas’s voice was rough with emotion.  

“I love you too. Always.”

Kim said it again and again—breathless, desperate—as the pleasure built, hips moving in tight circles, chasing the fingers fucking him steadily.

“I love you… love you… Vegas—”

Vegas kissed his neck hard, fingers speeding up, rubbing and circling and thrusting until Kim’s body tensed.

He came with a shattered cry, pussy clenching hard around Vegas’s fingers, squirting in hot pulses that soaked Vegas’s hand and the couch beneath them.  

His reflection showed everything: mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, body shaking in Vegas’s arms.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—Kim trembling through the aftershocks, Vegas holding him close, fingers still gently stroking, drawing out every last shiver.

Then Kim’s face changed.

A wave of nausea hit sudden and sharp.

He pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes widening.

Vegas felt the shift immediately.  

“Kim?”

Kim scrambled off his lap, stumbling toward the bathroom, hand clamped over his mouth.

He barely made it to the toilet before he was sick—quiet, miserable retching that left him shaking on the cool tile floor.

Vegas was there in seconds, kneeling behind him, one hand gathering Kim’s hair back, the other rubbing slow circles on his back.

“It’s okay,” Vegas murmured, voice steady and soft. “I’ve got you.”

When it passed, Kim sagged against him, pale and exhausted.

Vegas flushed, helped him rinse his mouth, then carried him back to bed—tucking him in, fetching water, pressing cool cloths to his forehead.

Kim managed a weak smile.

“Sorry… ruined the mood.”

Vegas kissed his temple, climbing in beside him, arms wrapping protectively around.

“Nothing ruined,” he said quietly. “Just means we take care of you now.”

Kim closed his eyes, hand finding Vegas’s under the blanket.

Outside, the city kept moving.

Inside, Vegas held him until the nausea faded and sleep finally came—gentle, watchful, and utterly devoted.

Chapter Text

It happened in the quietest moment.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, pale and soft. Vegas was in the kitchen making coffee when he heard it—the dull thud, followed by silence.

“Kim?”

No answer.

Vegas turned just in time to see Kim sway, hand grasping at the counter before his knees gave out. Vegas crossed the space in two steps and caught him, arms tight around his shoulders.

“Hey—hey, I’ve got you,” he said urgently, lowering him to the floor. Kim’s skin felt cold. Too pale.

Kim blinked up at him, unfocused.

“I’m… dizzy,” he whispered.

Vegas didn’t hesitate.

---

The clinic smelled like antiseptic and morning rain.

Vegas paced while Kim sat on the exam bed, wrapped in a thin blanket, hands clenched together. A nurse asked routine questions. Vegas answered most of them because Kim’s voice kept wavering.

“Has he been nauseous?”

“Yes.”

“Any fainting before?”

“No.”

“Stress?”

Vegas paused. “A lot.”

They ran tests. Blood work. An ultrasound “just to be safe.”

The waiting felt endless.

When the doctor finally returned, her expression was calm—but careful.

 “Kim,” she said gently, “you’re not sick.”

Kim frowned.

“Then why—”

She smiled softly.

 “You’re pregnant.”

The word landed like silence after a crash.

Kim stared at her.

Vegas stopped breathing.

“Pregnant?” Kim repeated, voice barely there.

The doctor nodded.

“Very early. That explains the nausea, dizziness, and fainting. Your vitals are stable now.”

Kim’s hands shook. He looked down at his stomach like it belonged to someone else.

Vegas moved without thinking. He took Kim’s hand, holding it firmly, grounding him.

“Are you sure?” Vegas asked, voice tight.

“Yes,” the doctor said. “We’ll schedule follow-ups and go over everything carefully.”

Kim didn’t cry. Not yet.

He just whispered,

“…Oh.”

Kim didn’t remember leaving the clinic.

He remembered sitting in the car afterward, seatbelt clicking, Vegas’s hand on the steering wheel — steady, controlled — while his own hands shook in his lap.

Pregnant.

The word echoed like a bruise.

Back at the condo, Kim went straight to the bathroom and locked the door. He slid down against it, knees pulled to his chest, breath coming too fast.

His phone buzzed.

Chay: Did you get home safe?

Kim stared at the screen until his vision blurred.

He didn’t reply.

He pressed his forehead to his knees, fingers digging into his hair.

This wasn’t a mistake anymore.

This wasn’t something that could be laughed off or hidden behind late nights and work excuses.

This was inside him.

Growing.

Not Chay’s.

The guilt hit him in waves — sharp, suffocating. Chay’s smile at breakfast. Chay trusting him without question. Chay calling him hyung with that soft affection that had never wavered.

Kim covered his mouth to keep from making a sound.

“What have I done?” he whispered to the empty room.

--

On the other side of the door, Vegas stood still.

He hadn’t sat down.

Hadn’t checked his phone.

Hadn’t poured himself a drink.

He leaned one hand against the wall, eyes unfocused, replaying the doctor’s voice over and over.

You’re pregnant.

Vegas wasn’t panicking — not outwardly.

But something deep in him had shifted.

This wasn’t desire.

This wasn’t secrecy.

This was responsibility.

This was danger.

This was a line that couldn’t be stepped back over.

He thought of Chay — innocent, trusting, completely unaware.

Thought of the families. The power structures. The fallout.

And then — Kim.

Kim curled on the bathroom floor, breaking quietly.

Vegas knocked once. Gently.

“Kim,” he said, voice low. “Open the door.”

No answer.

Vegas exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

When he spoke again, there was no teasing, no softness meant to distract.

“I need you to listen to me,” he said.

The lock clicked.

Kim opened the door with red eyes and trembling lips. He didn’t look up.

Vegas crouched in front of him immediately.

“Hey,” he said firmly, lifting Kim’s chin just enough to see his face. “Don’t do that. Don’t disappear on me.”

Kim’s voice cracked.

“Chay will hate me.”

Vegas didn’t lie.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “He will.”

Kim flinched like he’d been struck.

“But,” Vegas continued, unwavering, “I won’t let you face this alone.”

Kim shook his head.

“This will destroy everything.”

Vegas’s jaw tightened.

“It already has,” he said. “What matters now is what we do next.”

Kim finally looked at him then — truly looked — and saw it.

Not excitement.

Not triumph.

Fear.

Protectiveness.

Resolve.

“What about you?” Kim whispered. “What does this mean for you?”

Vegas didn’t answer immediately. He reached out, placing a hand flat over Kim’s stomach — not possessive, not romantic. Careful. Acknowledging reality.

“It means,” he said slowly, “that nothing stays the same after today.”

Kim leaned forward, forehead pressing into Vegas’s shoulder, and for the first time since the clinic, he cried openly.

Vegas wrapped his arms around him, firm and grounding.

“We’ll decide everything,” Vegas said quietly. “But not today. Today, you breathe. Today, you stay alive.”

Hours passed.

The condo stayed quiet except for the ticking clock and the distant hum of the city. Kim sat curled on the couch, one hand resting protectively over his stomach, the other twisting into the fabric of his sleeve. Vegas stood near the window, phone untouched, mind working relentlessly.

Finally, Vegas spoke.

 “Kim,” he said, voice low. “I need to ask you something. And you need to answer me honestly.”

Kim looked up, eyes swollen, exhausted.

“What?”

Vegas turned to face him fully.

 “Do you want this child?”

The question landed gently — but it shattered him anyway.

Kim didn’t answer right away. He looked down, palm flattening over his stomach, fingers trembling as if he could already feel something there.

“It’s ours,” Kim whispered. “I can’t erase it. I don’t want to.”

His breath hitched.

“But I’m scared. What if… what if my family finds out? What if everyone knows?”

Vegas closed his eyes for a brief moment — then opened them with something resolved and painful inside.

 “Then they won’t.”

Kim frowned. “What…?”

Vegas stepped closer.

 “You carry this child as Chay’s.”