“Baby Yoda,” he said to the little plushie and nodded to himself. And then frowned again because there shouldn’t have been Baby Yoda with him in bed, at least not alone, there should have been Baby Yoda and Mico. He propped himself up on one elbow, looked around his bedroom, and there he was: Sitting in front of his laptop on the floor, with a button-down and a tie, headphones in, and making notes.
Pharm’s fingers spiderwalk up Dean’s back and rest at his shoulders. “There’s soup in the fridge, and roti.” He yawns, and Dean feels a flutter of an exhale against his throat that makes it very hard not to hold him tighter, until it would surely hurt. As it is, Dean has basically swallowed him up. “P’Dean,” he says, with feeling, tugging hair at the nape of Dean’s neck, “let me go so you can eat.”
“I look at you and forget I’m hungry.” This close, he can hear the click of Pharm swallowing. “I forgot everything but this.” Slowly, he moves his hand so he can stroke the side of Pharm’s chest, a glide of his palm. He catches the edge of Pharm’s nipple, and he drops his hand as a scold to himself.
There had been a moment, before summer, when Oh-aew had asked him if he wanted this and he had said, with his dumb mouth, with his stupid no-good mouth, he’d said: I’m not sure I’ll keep on wanting this. He’d been a fool and he hadn’t known, he hadn’t known anything. No one knew anything, no one in the world, not a single person who had ever set eyes on Oh and had not wanted him desperately, not Bas who’d had him and somehow let him go, none of them, none of them knew anything because if they knew, if they understood the feel of him, the taste of him, how he undulated and grabbed and unfolded so beautifully then surely, surely the world would’ve long ago bent at his feet and no one would ever—ever—
The windows are open, and the warm ocean breeze is floating in in gentle waves, making the curtains dance in delight as the sunshine cuts through the house’s refreshing shade. It’s a beautiful day with a clear sky, and it’s almost a waste to spend it inside, but all that Oh-Aew can concentrate on is the confident movement of Teh’s hands as they shift the pencil around and turn the pages from time to time.
Thing is, Sang Ha knows what he likes. He is a healthy nineteen year old male who spent a lot of time fantasizing about one man in particular, and he also has a smartphone and access to the free Wi-Fi of the university dormitory. He is not proud to say that he has spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around himself and the name of his senior on his lips after he had managed to catch a glimpse of Jin Won in the corridors of his high school, but he is not shy about it either. He has never shared his pleasure with anybody else, except for that night with Jin Won a week ago, but there’s not an ounce of shame in his desires. He still manages to get embarrassed when Jin Won gets closer to him, but those instances are getting rarer and rarer, replaced instead with heated stares and lingering touches that often leave his boyfriend spluttering.
This mini-series has the kind of concept normally only found in fanfic – and the relationship between Yeonwoo and Yoohan is definitely borderline unhealthy. Yet it’s entirely captivating, and this fic manages to show why.