The faint glow of dawn crept through the high windows of the practice studio, casting pale light across the empty floor. Taehyun stirred awake on the couch, his body stiff from the awkward angle. His jacket half-slid from his shoulders, the fabric still faintly warm where Seojun's hands had been hours ago.
For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the ceiling. His lips tingled, swollen from the endless kisses. His skin burned where Seojun's mouth had marked him, little reminders hidden beneath his collar.
He touched his throat lightly, shivering at the memory. They hadn't gone all the way. But what they did do… the way Seojun's body had pressed him into the mirror, the way his voice had dropped to a growl as he whispered his name—it had felt like too much.
What have I let happen?
"You didn't run."
The voice startled him. His head snapped up to find Seojun across the room, leaning casually against the mirrored wall. His dark shirt clung to him, freshly changed, damp hair pushed back from his face. He looked composed, predatory even, like last night hadn't unsettled him at all.
Taehyun's heart lurched into his throat. "You're still here?"
"Of course." Seojun's eyes flickered over him, sharp and unreadable. "I don't abandon someone after touching them like that."
Heat rushed to Taehyun's cheeks. "D-don't say it like that. It wasn't… we didn't…"
Seojun pushed off the wall and moved closer, his steps echoing softly in the quiet studio. Taehyun's breath caught as the older man stopped right in front of him, leaning down until their faces were inches apart.
"We didn't finish," Seojun said, his tone smooth but dangerous. "But don't think for a second that what we did was meaningless."
Taehyun tore his gaze away, clutching his jacket tighter. "It was wrong. I shouldn't have let it go that far."
A soft laugh rumbled from Seojun's chest. "Wrong? You were clinging to me like you couldn't breathe without it." His hand rose, brushing the side of Taehyun's face, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. "And you kissed me back. Don't pretend otherwise."
Taehyun trembled beneath the touch. "That was practice. For the film."
"Liar." Seojun tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in amusement. "The camera wasn't rolling. It was just you and me."
Taehyun's chest squeezed painfully. He wanted to deny it, to push him away, to say it was all a mistake. But when Seojun's thumb slid down to his throat, pressing lightly against the faint bruise his mouth had left, the words dissolved into silence.
"You feel this?" Seojun whispered, his breath brushing Taehyun's ear. "Every time you touch it, you'll remember me."
Taehyun's breath came quick and uneven, his fingers tightening on the couch. He hated how much his body betrayed him—heat curling low, chest aching, throat dry.
The door creaked open suddenly, and both of them froze.
"Taehyun?" his manager's voice rang out from the hall. "Are you still in there? We're running late—schedule starts in an hour!"
Panic shot through him. He scrambled to his feet, tugging his jacket properly on, brushing down his shirt like it could hide the truth.
But before he could bolt, Seojun caught his wrist, holding him still. His grip was firm but not cruel, his eyes burning into Taehyun's.
"Don't run from this," Seojun said softly but with steel in his voice. "You can lie to them, you can lie to yourself… but you can't lie to me. You want me. And I'm not letting you pretend otherwise."
Taehyun's lips parted, but no words came out. He yanked his wrist free, heart hammering, and hurried toward the door before his manager barged inside.
Outside, the hallway buzzed with staff and schedules, but Taehyun heard none of it. All he could feel was the echo of Seojun's hand on his skin, the phantom press of his mouth against his throat.
He knew this couldn't happen again. He told himself it wouldn't.
But deep down, with every step he took away from the studio, his chest ached with the unbearable truth.
He wanted more.
---