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Looking at the clock, Sangwoo frowns. He’s running twelve minutes behind schedule. But, well, it can’t be helped, he supposes.
Jaeyoung should be returning from a meeting at a local art studio at any minute and the cookies aren’t out of the oven. They aren’t even in the oven, yet. Had everything gone to plan, the cookies would have been cooling by the time his boyfriend returned home. Still warm and gooey, but not hot enough to burn his tongue.
Last night, as he’d checked to make sure he had all of the required ingredients, Sangwoo hadn’t known that Jaeyoung would decide to actually make himself breakfast this morning before leaving, using the two eggs he’d needed for the batter.
The trip to the corner store hadn’t thrown Sangwoo’s timeline completely off but it had been a mild frustration. He knows that his frustration these days doesn’t equate to anything more than a tiny sigh of resignation, though. And really, even that is tempered by the small smile that almost always follows on its heels.
Still, living with Jaeyoung for the past few months– and being in a relationship with the man long before that– Sangwoo’s become familiar with adapting his plans with little to no warning.
Sangwoo will never admit it, but he’s grown to like it, in a way. Shifting his plans around Jaeyoung fills him with something a lot like contentment. He never would have guessed but it’s a point of joy, and pride maybe, that he has someone to work around, that he’s grown to fit with someone else.
Slowly but steadily, he and Jaeyoung are learning each other, learning to live with each other. It was easy to add a handful of minutes to his morning routine for the simple pleasure of allowing himself to be held by Jaeyoung before he started his day. It was barely a thought to fit in a moment at night to tidy up the bathroom after they shower– his boyfriend has the terrible habit of leaving his towel on the floor, can never seem to remember that the body wash goes next to the conditioner and not the shampoo.
So fitting Jaeyoung into his routine has been an adjustment, but not an unpleasant one. And now, as he’d had to make an impromptu trip to the store for more eggs– and he’d gone ahead and bought more of that granola that Jaeyoung liked, since it was on sale, after all– Sangwoo can’t manage to be annoyed, not truly.
Instead, he focuses on setting a timer for the cookies that he’s just put in the oven. By his estimate, they need eight minutes to bake followed by another fifteen minutes at least to cool to satisfactory warm and gooey temperatures.
Sangwoo is a baker who likes to clean as he goes, so the only real thing left to do while the cookies are in the oven is to wash the bowl and spoon he’d used. He’s just rinsing the bowl and placing it into the dish strainer whenever he hears someone entering the code at the front door.
He’s moved onto washing the spoon whenever he hears Jaeyoung’s footsteps entering the kitchen just before arms wrap around his middle.
Humming as he fits himself to Sangwoo, Jaeyoung noses the point where his boyfriend’s shoulder meets his neck. “Smells good in here, jagiya. What are you making?”
Rinsing the spoon, Sangwoo leans back into his boyfriend’s frame as he replies, “I wanted something sweet and you mentioned last time that you like chocolate chip cookies. Plus, I’m sure they are about to take on a celebratory purpose.”
“They are my favorite,” Jaeyoung confirms and Sangwoo feels the smile against his shoulder as Jaeyoung tightens his arms around him, bringing them that much closer. “You’re so thoughtful, Sangwoo-ah. Thank you.”
Sangwoo shrugs, turns his attention to wiping down the sink now that the clean-up is finished. The tips of his ears turn the faintest pink. “It’s nothing,” he dismisses. “So, how was your meeting?”
And here, Jaeyoung groans, letting more of his weight rest on Sangwoo. “The curator is a pretentious asshole but the contract looked good. My showing will be sometime in the spring.”
Drying his hands quickly before turning around, Sangwoo leans against the sink to see Jaeyoung better. His smile is soft but sincere, happiness making his eyes shine. Jaeyoung’s smiling before he even realizes it, so happy that his boyfriend is so happy for him. He’s so cute, Jaeyoung thinks absently, as he cages his wonderful boyfriend in with hands resting on the counter on either side of Sangwoo.
“Congratulations, hyung.” Sangwoo reaches a hand up and runs gentle fingers through Jaeyoung’s hair.
Jaeyoung’s breath catches at the small action and even though they’ve been together for over a year at this point, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way Sangwoo touches him, careful and reverent but still so solid and real.
Taking that with the pride in Sangwoo’s voice and Jaeyoung feels weightless for a moment. All he can do in the face of Sangwoo’s congratulations is tilt his head further into his touch, closing his eyes as his boyfriend scratches gently behind his ear.
“Thank you, baby,” he murmurs after a moment. When he opens his eyes, all Jaeyoung sees is the smile on Sangwoo’s face, the corners of his eyes crinkling just barely with it.
Jaeyoung leans down, feels Sangwoo rock forward so that their lips can meet. It’s a soft kiss, nothing hurried. Jaeyoung kisses the corner of Sangwoo’s mouth, the bow of his top lip, moves until he can kiss the edge of his boyfriend’s cheekbone, lazy with intent. He hears Sangwoo’s breath catch and feels hands come to clutch in his shirt.
“Baby,” Jaeyoung mumbles into Sangwoo’s mouth. “Can we–”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Sangwoo’s phone is buzzing on the counter next to them. Sangwoo startles, eyes flying open but unseeing for a moment.
Watching Sangwoo blink a few times, reorienting himself, Jaeyoung bites his lip in an attempt to slow down. He imagines Sangwoo with the same dazed look in his eye, quietly flustered and unable to hide it, hair messy on their pillows, mouth swollen from Jaeyoung's kisses, a line of marks down his throat following the sweeping flush that spreads down his chest–
Now it’s Jaeyoung who startles as Sangwoo presses a hand to his chest to urge him back. “The cookies, hyung,” Sangwoo explains, but not before having to clear his throat.
Jaeyoung moves back to give Sangwoo space as his boyfriend reaches for an oven mitt and opens the door. Immediately, the aroma intensifies, mouthwateringly sweet. Dark chocolate and vanilla waft through the air and it helps ease Jaeyoung, brings him back to the gentle place where he lets his love for Sangwoo warm his chest from the inside out.
Sangwoo, who made cookies in celebration of Jaeyoung signing a showcase at a local gallery– an art gallery that’s known for propelling careers to their next level. Because even if Jaeyoung’s enjoyed working on Veggie Venturer and continues to freelance for DEX, he’ll always be an artist first and foremost and that means that he’ll always feel the call to create art for art’s sake, will always feel a tendril of pure thrill at being able to show his art to an audience.
He knows Sangwoo will deflect and claim the cookies are more for him than Jaeyoung but Jaeyoung knows the truth. It’s one more drop collecting in the well that’s his love for Sangwoo, the appreciation that makes the smallest gestures land behind his ribs, causing them to ache with the sheer intent hidden within them.
Setting the cookies onto the counter, Sangwoo slaps Jaeyoung’s hands away as his boyfriend reaches for one. “They’re too hot,” he warns. “You’ll burn your mouth. Plus, they’re too soft. They need to cool for optimal consumption.”
Jaeyoung stares at Sangwoo for a moment, playing up his hurt at being slapped away from the cookies before he grins and leans down for a quick peck. “Whatever you say, boss.”
Turning towards the hallway that leads to their bedroom, Jaeyoung calls out behind him, “I’m going to take a shower.” He raises a brow, smiling lecherously at his boyfriend. “Want to join me?”
Sangwoo, for his part, is already heading into the living room. “I showered an hour ago, hyung. I’m going to read.”
Jaeyoung laughs a little, shaking his head as he resumes his path to the bathroom. His Sangwoo, always so meticulous.
Laying on the couch, Sangwoo reaches for his manga as he hears the door to the bathroom shut. He estimates that he’ll be able to read two chapters before Jaeyoung joins him, by which time the cookies should be sufficiently cooled to eat.
Sangwoo loses track of time as he’s engrossed in the story, the action ratcheting up and the main character facing a moral dilemma, and so he lets out a noise when Jaeyoung lays down on him, seemingly out of nowhere.
The book falls out of his hands to land on the floor as his boyfriend makes himself at home. Sangwoo’s pressed into the couch as he feels Jaeyoung rest his head on his shoulder, hair still damp where it tickles his jaw but nose warm along the column of his throat.
Jaeyoung wiggles into the narrow space between Sangwoo and the back of the couch, leg thrown over Sangwoo’s hip, pinning him down further. Jaeyoung’s hand curves around his side, a comforting weight.
Sangwoo can’t help but think of his family’s dog, whose been with them since Sangwoo was fourteen. It had grown into an oversized thing but even now, when Sangwoo visits home, she’ll crawl into his lap, not knowing or perhaps uncaring that she’s no longer the size of the puppy who could easily fit in his palm.
In a lot of ways, Jaeyoung’s like that– an oversized puppy, eager and earnest in his affection. Sangwoo’s long since made peace with the way the comparison makes his chest warm.
“My book,” Sangwoo halfheartedly protests even as one of his hands comes up to lay over Jaeyoung’s shoulder, the other resting on the nape of his boyfriend’s neck.
He feels Jaeyoung melt into him, the impression of a kiss against the hollow of his throat.
“Pay attention to me,” Jaeyoung whines. “I’m more interesting than your book.”
Sangwoo scoffs even as he makes more space for his boyfriend, hitching a leg over Jaeyoung’s hip, kissing the crown of his head. “Says who,” he mutters.
“Says me,” Jaeyoung retorts.
It’s quiet for a few moments and Sangwoo enjoys it, lets it wrap around him. He thinks Jaeyoung might just be falling asleep on top of him and it’s no wonder.
His boyfriend had been blasé about the whole thing, but Sangwoo knew that he was stressed about the potential showing. The art gallery was one of the most sought-after in Seoul and for all Jaeyoung's talent and charisma, some things can’t be won over with raw determination.
He’s glad that he decided to make the cookies after all. He’d told himself that it could be in celebration or to cheer Jaeyoung up but it’s so much better that it’s the former.
Looking at the clock on the wall, Sangwoo sees that the cookies should be cool enough to eat and he had skipped over lunch in his quest to bake.
Sangwoo sweeps a hand down the expanse of his boyfriend’s back, teasing the edge of skin between Jaeyoung’s shirt and shorts. “Hyung,” he murmurs, half question.
Jaeyoung just hums, low and rough, to show he’s heard.
“Would you like a cookie? They should be safe to eat now.”
Jaeyoung rubs his face against Sangwoo’s shoulder, wiggling even closer. “I’m too comfortable to move,” he mumbles.
Scratching lightly behind his ears, Sangwoo lets his other hand flex low against the small of Jaeyoung’s back. “Come on, hyung. Aren’t you a little hungry?”
Grumbling, Jaeyoung tilts his head back to look at Sangwoo. “You just want me to get up so you can have one.” He closes his eyes and lays back down against Sangwoo. “You’re the one with the sweet tooth, baby. You can’t fool me.”
Now it’s Sangwoo’s turn to grumble. It’s true which makes it all the more annoying.
It hadn’t taken Jaeyoung long to realize that Sangwoo had an incurable sweet tooth. While he found solace in baking for its reliability and predictability in steps and processes, the bigger part of him just enjoyed the finished result. He rarely turned down an offer for dessert and after the Blackholic fiasco, his coffee tastes had turned sweet enough to ache.
Frowning because he’s been caught, Sangwoo retaliates by scraping a gentle nail over the base of Jaeyoung’s spine. His boyfriend can’t help the way he jerks a little, arching into Sangwoo.
Jaeyoung huffs and reaches down to take Sangwoo’s hand, interlacing their fingers and bringing them up to rest against Sangwoo’s chest. “Five minutes,” Jaeyoung grumbles.
Sangwoo laughs, more exhalation than anything else. Humming in agreement, he stops teasing and after a moment, Jaeyoung relaxes fully against him once more.
It’s another ten minutes before Sangwoo shifts, laying another kiss against hair that smells of their shampoo.
“Hyung,” he whispers.
“Sangwoo-ah,” Jaeyoung whispers back.
Squeezing lightly with the thigh over Jaeyoung’s hip, Sangwoo urges him to move.
It’s slow going but after a moment, Jaeyoung does start moving until he’s straddling Sangwoo, caging him in with hands on either side of his head.
One of Jaeyoung’s hands slide down until it rest low and flat against his stomach. “Doing that won’t help us leave this couch any faster, jagiya.”
Sangwoo just looks up at him with wide eyes, mouth set in a mulish half-pout.
He knows what he’s doing and he’s rewarded a second later with his boyfriend leaning down to kiss him. Sleep obviously clings to him– it’s in the way Jaeyoung seems distracted by Sangwoo’s mouth, the way he lingers over the fullness of his cheek.
Sangwoo closes his eyes as his boyfriend strings kisses from the corner of his mouth and down to nibble at his ear lobe, teeth a small but dull pressure.
The kisses trail lower, Sangwoo turning his head to give Jaeyoung more room to work. His boyfriend lowers himself until he’s caught in the cradle of Sangwoo’s hips. Sangwoo wraps his legs around Jaeyoung, thighs squeezing into the curve of his boyfriend’s waist.
His mouth opens on a gasp as he feels Jaeyoung kiss his throat, the soft touch of lips against his neck maddening. This time his teeth are sharp as they close over skin with intent. Just for a moment, though, before Jaeyoung’s easing back and soothing the pain with his tongue.
Sangwoo’s heel digs into Jaeyoung’s back as he feels his boyfriend pull back a moment later, just enough to blow cool air against the spot.
“Hyung,” Sangwoo breathes out, voice low and verging on desperate in the way it only is with Jaeyoung.
Jaeyoung lets out a noise, half hum, half something deeper as he brushes an open mouth kiss against that same spot. “Baby,” he mumbles. “Sangwoo-ah.”
This time when he closes his mouth over Sangwoo’s neck, he applies suction. Sangwoo can feel the way his flush travels from his ears down his neck, over his chest. He’s so warm, can’t focus on anything but Jaeyoung’s mouth against him.
And then Jaeyoung’s hand trails up from his thigh to his ass, caress gentle at first before quickly turning heavy, rough just the way Sangwoo’s learned he loves, pressing him closer.
Sangwoo arches into him, can’t help the way his hips jerk just at the moment Jaeyoung moves a scant inch down from the mark he’s worked into his skin, just to start the process all over again.
Some noise leaves him, voice turned to gravel, as his hands reach up to tangle in Jaeyoung’s hair. One hand pulls, just a little mean, and Sangwoo’s rewarded with Jaeyoung’s ragged gasp, his boyfriend thrusting forward as he bites harshly down on Sangwoo’s neck.
The pain stings, makes Sangwoo shiver. His other hand urges Jaeyoung’s head closer and Sangwoo tilts his own head up, caught by the way Jaeyoung seems totally focused on him, on the way his breath catches at each drag of teeth, the way he’s still pulling Jaeyoung closer like there’s even a breath of space between them as it is.
Jaeyoung leans back, chest moving quickly in a bid to catch his breath. His eyes are focused on the darkening line of bruises along Sangwoo's throat.
He knows Sangwoo will lecture him on leaving such obvious marks in such an obvious place later but Jaeyoung doesn’t give a fuck, not when Sangwoo looks so ruined, when he looks so content in his ruining.
And he knows Sangwoo doesn’t care right now either, that he won’t care later, not really, not when Jaeyoung leans down tonight and noses along the trail of bruises, and not tomorrow morning when he’ll press the pad of his thumb to a mark with just enough pressure to make Sangwoo feel an echo of what’s rushing through him now.
Jaeyoung guides Sangwoo to sit up just enough so that he can skim his shirt off, his own following suit quickly.
Sangwoo’s already pulling him down again, wrapping his arms around Jaeyoung’s shoulders before his back even meets the couch.
Jaeyoung laughs against his ear, letting himself be urged back to where they were before. His baby is so cute, Jaeyoung thinks absently as he trails a finger down Sangwoo’s side just to feel him tremble.
Sangwoo guides Jaeyoung back to his mouth and as their lips meet, Sangwoo hums in relief. “Please, hyung,” he murmurs in the space they share a breath.
Jaeyoung feels the plea, soft with need clinging to the syllables, irresistible. “I’ve got you, baby. Hyung will take care of you.” His voice is low, the words tumbling out of his mouth at the look in Sangwoo’s eye, like Jaeyoung is the only thing he needs, like he’s the only one Sangwoo will ever want.
Jaeyoung’s mouth closes over Sangwoo’s collarbone, and he bites down without warning or restraint. He feels Sangwoo reach down between them, fingers easing under the waistband of Jaeyoung’s shorts and Jaeyoung shudders.
As he licks a line up the other side of Sangwoo’s throat, taste distinctly Sangwoo with a hint of salt, Jaeyoung ruefully thinks that shower was a waste, after all.
Drying his hair halfheartedly, Jaeyoung tosses his damp towel onto the bathroom floor before he heads into their bedroom.
Not seeing Sangwoo, he keeps going until he finally finds his boyfriend in the kitchen, transferring the cookies from the baking sheet and into a cookie jar Jaeyoung had made for him at one of those ceramic paint studios that are so trendy right now.
It had been a friend’s night out with Yuna and Hyeongtak and Jaeyoung had painted his in garish colors that somehow complemented each other. Sangwoo had studied the cookie jar for several minutes when Jaeyoung had brought it home, finally setting it down on their dining table and wrapping his arms around Jaeyoung with a sincere thanks pressed against Jaeyoung’s sternum.
Coming over to where Sangwoo’s working, Jaeyoung sits in one of the dining table chairs. He watches Sangwoo in silence, his boyfriend focused on his task. He’s wearing a pair of boxers and one of Jaeyoung’s own shirts, oversized to the point that it almost completely exposes one of his shoulders.
Jaeyoung’s gaze catches on the bruises that line one side of Sangwoo’s neck and he smiles, something soft and smug in his eyes.
He studies Sangwoo in the late afternoon sun. His boyfriend looks relaxed, mouth curved in the faintest smile, eyes clear and bright as he takes the last two cookies and places them on a plate instead of in the jar.
Jaeyoung doesn’t say anything as Sangwoo immediately takes the spatula and baking sheet to the sink and washes it, just occupies himself in looking at Sangwoo– the surprisingly broad shoulders, the way his shirt skims over his sides, down to long legs that end with delicate ankles.
Feeling the mild urge to reach for a pen and his sketchpad, Jaeyoung idly considers it before deciding he’s too comfortable where he is.
He guesses that he’ll just have to commit the moment to memory, joining it with countless others that makeup his relationship with Sangwoo.
The sound of the water turning off brings Jaeyoung’s attention back to their kitchen and he just watches Sangwoo as his boyfriend dries his hands and carefully refolds the dish towel and places it in alignment precisely with the edge of the sink.
His eyes flick up to Sangwoo as his boyfriend walks over to him.
Without hesitation or warning, Sangwoo moves until he’s sitting in Jaeyoung’s lap, straddling him. He feels Jaeyoung’s arms come up to wrap around his middle, holding him close and secure.
Even though his feet are touching the floor and he’s in no danger of falling off, it’s a gesture that fills Sangwoo with warmth.
The sun burnishes everything in their apartment gold, even reaching into the shadows of the kitchen where neither one of them have deigned to turn a light on.
Sangwoo lets himself just look at Jaeyoung for a moment. His skin, so warm it seems to glow, the way his eyes shine in quiet peace, the curve of his mouth that’s always so expressive.
His love for Jaeyoung is no less wondrous for all that they’ve been together months by now. In fact, it just seems to shine brighter as the roots dig deeper, growing steadily without even trying.
Caught in the feeling of the past few hours– the relaxing ritual of baking, the quietly devastating way Jaeyoung consumes him, showering together with the bathroom echoing with their laughter and chatter even as steam dripped down the mirror– Sangwoo leans forward, slowly, just to lay a gentle kiss against Jaeyoung’s brow.
He sees the way Jaeyoung’s eyes flutter shut, feels his boyfriend’s hands flex against his hips.
Sangwoo lays one hand on Jaeyoung’s shoulder, reaches out with the other for one of the chocolate chip cookies he’s placed on a plate.
Breaking off a piece, he brings it to Jaeyoung’s mouth.
When he looks up, he’s arrested by the look in Jaeyoung’s eyes. There’s contentment there and maybe the barest flicker of surprise. Sangwoo doesn’t say anything, just holds the cookie to his boyfriend’s mouth, waiting patiently.
And, oh– Sangwoo’s heart turns over and a whole colony of butterflies takes up residence in his middle at the red that brushes over the edge of Jaeyoung’s ears, dusting his cheeks.
Slowly, as though half expecting Sangwoo to pull away, Jaeyoung opens his mouth and lets Sangwoo feed him.
Sangwoo holds his hand steady as he watches Jaeyoung’s mouth close over the cookie, achingly gentle. His gaze is glued to the way his thumb brushes against Jaeyoung’s bottom lip. Sangwoo lets himself firm up his touch, just enough to feel the softness of Jaeyoung’s mouth under him.
Sangwoo’s fingers flex into the muscle of Jaeyoung’s shoulder as his boyfriend wraps a hand around his wrist, shifting his hand so that Jaeyoung can close his mouth around the pad of Sangwoo’s thumb, sucking gently to taste the remnants of chocolate.
“How is it,” Sangwoo asks, clearing his throat. His voice is low but steady.
The moment feels suspended in time, like it’s just the two of them not just in the apartment but in Seoul proper. He keeps his voice quiet enough so that it almost breaks on the question.
Jaeyoung stares up at him, something undefinable in his eyes. It’s the same look he gets when Sangwoo washes his hair after he’s pulled three all-nighters in a row, the same emotion whenever he has a headache and doesn’t have to say anything before Sangwoo’s turning the volume on the television down, turning the lights onto their dimmest setting.
Lowering his head, Jaeyoung kisses the pulse at Sangwoo’s wrist, nosing into the warm scent of their body wash.
His voice is hoarse as he answers, “Perfect.” It breaks on a sigh as he echoes, “It’s perfect.”