The city lights flickered below like distant fireflies, but on the rooftop, the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
Jiwon's hand lingered at Yul's hip, thumb brushing over the curve of his beltline. He could feel Yul's pulse—rapid, shallow—and it made his chest tighten, awareness sharpening with every heartbeat. Yul leaned into the touch slightly, neither pulling away nor advancing, letting the tension build.
"You've changed," Yul murmured, voice low, silk and smoke. "Since the last time I saw you."
"Maybe," Jiwon replied, voice clipped, though his grip on Yul's side betrayed the lie. "Or maybe I just let people see more."
Yul tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "More… or less? I've always been curious which you prefer."
Jiwon's fingers tightened slightly, tracing upward along Yul's ribs, finding the lean tension beneath the coat. "I prefer control," he said, though even as he spoke, control slipped through his fingers like sand. "You should know that by now."
Yul leaned closer, face just inches from Jiwon's, warm breath brushing against his cheek. "Control is boring," he whispered. "Chaos is… more interesting."
The words made something coil low in Jiwon's chest, and he pressed his forehead against Yul's, letting himself breathe him in. The scent, the warmth, the faint trace of danger—it was intoxicating.
"You're reckless," Jiwon said, voice low. "And I shouldn't be—"
"Shouldn't?" Yul interrupted softly, tilting his lips to catch Jiwon's in the smallest, teasing brush of a kiss. Just enough to spark, not enough to satisfy. "Shouldn't what?"
Jiwon's hands lifted, tangling in Yul's hair at the nape of his neck, holding him steady, grounding himself even as every nerve screamed. "Shouldn't want this," he admitted, voice rough, almost breaking.
Yul's laugh was soft, warm, a contrast to the tension that hummed between them. "Wanting me doesn't make you weak," he murmured, letting his hands glide over Jiwon's shoulders, down the curve of his back, pulling him closer without pressure. "It makes you… human."
Their lips met again—longer this time, slow, deliberate, testing. Yul's hands roamed gently, exploring, guiding, coaxing Jiwon closer, while Jiwon's thumbs brushed along the curve of Yul's jaw, memorizing angles, textures, the warmth that made his pulse stutter.
For a moment, nothing existed but the brush of skin, the shared breath, the quiet electricity of two hunters circling a dangerous bond.
Then Yul pulled back just slightly, lips hovering near Jiwon's ear. "You feel it too, don't you?" he whispered. "The pull. The hunger. The… fire?"
Jiwon's chest tightened. "…Yeah."
"Good," Yul said, tilting his head to press his forehead to Jiwon's. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
The words were soft but charged, heavy with promise and danger. Jiwon shivered, leaning into the warmth, letting his hands wander, tracing the line of Yul's collarbone, brushing the faint mark glowing beneath the skin.
"Not done?" he asked, voice rough, breath uneven.
"No," Yul said simply, letting his lips brush Jiwon's temple, his cheek, the edge of his mouth. "Just begun."
They stood like that, pressed close, suspended in the night—the city below, the wind whipping around them, a universe narrowed to two. No words could capture it, only the quiet rhythm of pulse against pulse, breath mingling with breath, tension and desire coiling tighter with every second.
For the first time in a long time, Jiwon didn't feel the need to fight. Didn't feel the need to hide. The hunter, the crown, the responsibilities—all of it faded into the background. There was only Yul, gold eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, a smile playing on lips that teased and promised.
And in that small space between them, something new took root—a dangerous, intoxicating spark that neither of them could deny.
The wind tugged at their coats, but neither moved away. Jiwon's hands slid lower along Yul's back, fingers pressing against the taut muscles beneath his coat. Yul's breath hitched, soft and uneven, as his own hands traced the line of Jiwon's shoulders, then down along his arms, feeling the strength beneath the suit.
"You're… dangerous," Yul murmured, voice husky, brushing his lips against Jiwon's jaw. "You make it too easy to forget everything else."
Jiwon swallowed, chest tightening, mind spinning. "Maybe I like it when you make me forget," he admitted, voice low, rough, almost trembling with the weight of unspoken desire.
Yul tilted his head, lips grazing the sensitive spot beneath Jiwon's ear, teasing, daring. "Forget… or remember?" he whispered, a smirk curling against the warmth of his skin.
Jiwon's hands tangled in Yul's hair, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed flush against each other. "Both," he breathed. "All of it. I want it all."
Yul's lips descended to Jiwon's neck, tracing light, deliberate paths that left shivers in their wake. Jiwon's head fell back, letting him explore, caught between resisting and surrendering. Every brush of skin against skin, every heated exhale, set sparks crawling across him.
"You don't know what you're doing to me," Jiwon rasped, hands sliding under Yul's coat, feeling the heat beneath.
Yul's fingers dug slightly into Jiwon's waist, pulling him closer, tilting his head back to capture a kiss—hungry, lingering, teasing at the boundary between restraint and indulgence. Their lips moved with a dangerous rhythm, soft at first, then firmer, pressing into each other with shared need.
"You like this," Yul whispered against his lips, voice low, intimate. "The risk. The fire. Me."
Jiwon groaned softly, hands gripping the sides of Yul's torso. "I like… you. All of you," he admitted, teeth grazing Yul's lower lip as he spoke.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed: the city below, the stars above, the wind—everything else disappeared. Only the heat between them remained, a dangerous, magnetic force that pulled, teased, and demanded surrender.
Yul's hands roamed lower, tracing Jiwon's back and sliding just beneath the waistband of his pants for a brief, tantalizing brush, enough to make his pulse spike. Jiwon's breath hitched, and for once, he didn't hide the effect Yul had on him.
They broke apart slightly, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling. The silence was heavy with possibility. Yul's golden eyes shimmered with mischief and promise. "This… this is only the beginning," he murmured.
Jiwon's fingers stroked the nape of Yul's neck, voice low and hoarse: "I don't care. I'll follow you anywhere."
Yul smiled, lips brushing Jiwon's once more, soft, lingering, teasing. "Good. Because I don't intend to let you go."
The rooftop wind whipped around them, carrying their shared heat into the cold night, and for the first time, Jiwon allowed himself to be consumed—not as a hunter, not as a leader, not as REX—but as a man caught between desire, danger, and the undeniable pull of Yul.