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Marriages are supposed to last forever, at least that’s what he was taught in Sunday school.
But forever is a pretty long time.
Hyukjae says this out loud, when they’re in bed together, weary and sated, Sungmin wound around him like a climbing vine. He rests his hand on the curve of Sungmin’s ass, still insanely amazed by the smoothness of his lover’s skin, even after all these years. Sungmin shivers in response, burrows closer.
“Something on your mind?” Sungmin asks, his breath ghosting over the sweat-slick skin of Hyukjae’s neck. His voice is low and rich. It drips with sex. If Hyukjae wasn’t so worn out he thinks he’d be hard all over again.
“No,” Hyukjae says, almost automatically. “Well, yeah. Forever is like… eternity, isn’t it, Min? That’s a long time to be attached to the same person. How do you think married people do it?”
He feels Sungmin giggle against him. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Hyukkie.”
“No, ‘cos, like… You know what you said on that show we were on? Back in Taiwan?”
“There were many shows, Hyukkie,” Sungmin reminds him, his tone slightly reprimanding. “If I recall correctly, in a lot of them you said you didn’t like me.”
“Ah, not those!” Those shows were all about entertaining the audience, making them laugh. Hyukjae enjoyed the spontaneity of it all, rather than the scripted fun they have back here. Still, the language barrier had proved to be rather formidable, and he’s glad to be back where he doesn’t have to struggle to make himself understood. “You know, the show … the one with the Truth or Dare thing!”
“Oh,” Sungmin sounds amused. He runs a finger along Hyukjae’s jawline and leaves kisses in its wake. Hyukjae tries to catch his lips, but Sungmin pulls away, smirking. “Where I said I’d marry you if I was a woman?”
Hyukjae nods. Tries to pull Sungmin closer, but is rebuffed with a neat poke in the ribs. “Ow!”
“You’re not getting any more until you tell me why you’re bringing up shows that we recorded nearly a year ago.”
“Fine!” Hyukjae huffs, trying not to pout. Sungmin pouts so much better than him anyway. He’s not going to compete with those lips. “I guess… I know we didn’t have time that night,”— mainly because Ryeowook had thrown a tantrum when Kyuhyun and Henry had tossed his clothes off the hotel room balcony while he was in the shower, and Zhou Mi had gone crazy trying to sort things out and none of them had managed to get any sleep — “… and it’s stupid and whatever, so you can just tell me you think I’m an idiot, but… do you think you would actually do that? Not be a woman, I mean. Although you make a wonderful woman when you dress up. I mean — ”
“I know what you mean,” Sungmin says quietly. “And I would, Hyukkie, OK? That’s not even a question you need to ask. You should know that by now.”
The unspoken ‘but’ hangs between them; not for the first time Hyukjae wishes they weren’t super famous pop idols. It isn’t as though life would be easier, but at least the scandal wouldn’t reach as far.
After a minute the silence becomes oppressive, rather than comfortable. Hyukjae wants Sungmin to smile, because with the way their schedules are, these stolen moments in the evenings have become too few and far between. He wants them to share as much happiness as they can. “Min. When I was talking about forever just now. I meant to say… I guess forever — it wouldn’t be so bad if it was forever with you.”
More silence, but this time, Hyukjae is heartened by the way Sungmin takes his hand and links their fingers. For a moment, they say nothing, just drink in each other and enjoy the shared intimacy. Then Sungmin sniggers, pinches Hyukjae’s nipple with his free hand, earning him a squeak of surprise.
“Lee Hyukjae, that has got to be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say. You’re worse than one of those dramas all the stylist noonas go crazy for.”
“I don’t hear you complaining about it,” Hyukjae retorts, sticking out his tongue. He yelps as Sungmin rolls on top of him. “OK! OK! I won’t say shit like that anymore! I’ll be completely serious when I speak to you, if that’s what you want. We’ll discuss the health of the European Union, or — or why Wookie left the fridge door open this morning when he prepared breakfast and melted all of Jungsu-hyung’s chocolates. Uh. Or why Zhou Mi never takes any of us shopping with him. Is that better? I won’t mention getting married or anything like that again. I’ll write you sonnets and compare your beauty to the moon rising, or stuff like that. And then —”
“Idiot.” Sungmin says, cutting Hyukjae off mid-sentence. He leans down, frames Hyukjae’s face with his hands. “If you ever stop being cheesy with me, I swear I’ll break up with you so fast you won’t even know what happened. Maybe I’ll let Donghae feel me up backstage like he’s always threatening to do. And then you can go write an epic about lost love like a properly tragic poet.”
“Yeah?” Hyukjae asks, much too aware of Sungmin leaning in much too close, his full lips millimetres away from Hyukjae’s own.
“Yeah.”
Sungmin closes the gap, and they’re kissing each other as though the world were ending and Sungmin’s tongue worms its way into Hyukjae’s mouth much too easily, slides up against his. And Hyukjae couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to; it feels like he’s being consumed by Sungmin, as though he’s consuming Sungmin. Every part of his body feels linked to some other part of Sungmin. It feels right, because it is right, and he could happily stay like this forever. Somehow, forever doesn’t seem quite long enough right now.
He hooks a leg around Sungmin’s thigh and shifts them both so he ends up on top, with Sungmin staring up at him with lust-darkened eyes and red, moist lips. His fingers clutch at Hyukjae’s arms, digging in hard enough to leave marks, his breathing ragged. He’s on fire for Hyukjae, and Hyukjae can’t help but be startled by this, as he always is.
They kiss again, and Hyukjae feels his desire begin to build within him at an amazing rate. He pulls away from the embrace and leaves kisses on every part of Sungmin’s skin that he can reach with his lips. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along Sungmin’s neck, along his collarbone, down his chest, flicking at Sungmin’s nipples with his tongue until the man underneath him is writhing with mingled impatience and pleasure, grasping at Hyukjae’s hair, shoulders, ears. Their erections brush as Hyukjae shifts his position slightly, and the sensation is enough to make Sungmin gasp audibly.
“Such a bastard… Don’t be so cruel, Hyukkie. Come here and love me properly.”
It’s the way he whines that makes Hyukjae lose it every time. He scrambles up Sungmin’s body, kisses him ferociously, threading his fingers through Sungmin’s hair to hold him in place while he plunders Sungmin’s mouth.
“One of these days, Hyukkie, you’re going to drive me crazy,” Sungmin murmurs, as Hyukjae dives off the bed to find the near-empty tube of lube in the drawer of his bedside table. “Maybe I should just keep you handcuffed to the bed instead of having a wedding. It would save us the money and I’d get to have you all to myself.”
“I think that’s called enslavement, Min,” Hyukjae says, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. “Do you want me…?”
Sungmin’s answer is to pounce on Hyukjae and snatch the lube right out of his lover’s hands before Hyukjae has a chance to take a breath. Soon, he’s got two fingers in Hyukjae, fucking him slowly and driving Hyukjae out of his mind with pleasure.
“More,” Hyukjae whispers brokenly. “I can take more. Min, come on.”
“Hyukjae.” Sungmin mutters, their gazes locking. “ Oh God, Hyukkie.”
Then Sungmin is sliding into him, hot and thick and slick, and Hyukjae thinks he might have forgotten how to breathe, but that’s all right. Because Sungmin is leaning down and kissing him, and they can breathe for each other. Hyukjae kisses back for all that he’s worth, and it still doesn’t feel like that’s enough. But Sungmin seems to think it is, and their hands meet and their fingers twine together. It’s fine. It’s perfect.
Ancient poets may have waxed lyrical about the perfection of love, and written endlessly about its enduring nature in floral, evocative language that could stand the test of time and move people to tears. Hyukjae was never one for high literature, but as he comes with a loud cry, his body jerking off the bed into Sungmin’s arms, he thinks that maybe they got something right after all.
Afterwards, when the two of them have had a rest and another slower, drawn-out session of making love, Hyukjae lets Sungmin snuggle closer.
“I’d make a better poet than Hae,” he states. Sungmin sighs and pinches his arm. “Ow! OK, fine. I was joking!”
He takes a deep breath.
“Wasn’t joking abut the forever thing, though.”
Sungmin looks up at Hyukjae, a wide smile curving his pretty lips.
“Why are you so cheesy?” He asks, punching Hyukjae on the arm lightly, pretending to be exasperated. Hyukjae’s heart skips a beat despite himself. Then Sungmin grins.
“I wouldn’t mind it either, Hyukkie.”