Chapter Text
The afternoon sun beat down on the roof of the little car, streaming through the windows and filling your peripheral vision with rainbow sunspots. You sat a little stiffly, the seatbelt cutting into your neck, your feet dangling, just barely skimming the floor.
And suddenly—for what felt like the first time—you were alone with Saeyoung.
How strange, you thought—in truth, you’d been alone with him quite a lot. You’d spent hours, in fact, perched on your knees at his bedside, though he wouldn’t remember any of it. Even in an artificial sleep, Saeyoung had a presence that brought you calm. That one horrible night, unsleeping, thinking in circles, unable to imagine yourself out of the seemingly impossible situation you’d found yourself in—you’d sat beside him, not touching him, just watching, waiting, as if you thought he would somehow wake up and have all the answers.
His facial features, you’d thought at the time, were so like and yet unlike those of his twin—your boyfriend. Saeyoung’s jaw was more defined, his cheekbones less prominent. He had muscle and fat where Saeran had none. In spite of the hallowed-in look the last few weeks had given him, it was evident that he’d reaped the benefits of both real meals and exercise, things Saeran never had with any consistency.
And, on that night, you’d been surprised to find how comfortable you felt around him, though you’d never actually met him face-to-face until the day you’d showed up to rescue him (and ended up losing him again). You’d begun to feel close to him through his phone calls and your chats in the messenger, but the truth was that, for the vast majority of the time you’d spent with him, he’d been asleep. He was essentially a stranger. And yet—
It wasn’t his similarities to Saeran that drew you to him, necessarily, but rather the subtle differences. Saeran smelled like rose water and rain; Saeyoung smelled like honey and clean laundry. He had walls up, defenses that you could sense even as he slept—strong protections around his heart, something Saeran had never had the liberty to develop. But he had a softness, too, a kind of warmth that both complemented and was distinct from Saeran’s.
More than once, over the course of that endless, unbearable night, you’d felt the urge to climb onto the bed and curl your body up against his larger one. Of course, you’d resisted.
Over the last few days, you’d spent a different kind of time together, it was true—this time as the younger Choi twin slept. You'd stood side-by-side at Saeran’s bedside, arms brushing, breathing shallowly as you waited for him to wake. You’d felt, then, the fierce and protective love that radiated off Saeyoung as he watched his brother. Where Saeran projected affection and comfort, Saeyoung gave off an air of strength and certainty. As you’d clutched Saeran’s cold hand and tried to avoid looking for too long at the deep purple bruises covering his face, Saeyoung—without saying anything—had made you feel confident that everything would turn out okay.
But now—today—was different. For the very first time since you’d met either of the brothers, there was nothing to run from, no looming threat, no imminent death. There was no agency to take down, no father to hide from, nobody to save. There was peace.
So why was your heart in your throat? Why was the sun so bright and why did you feel like you’d forgotten what to do with your arms?
“Um, Saeyoung?” Your voice came out reedy and thin.
“Yeah?” He turned at the sound of your voice, too quickly, and winced at the sudden movement. He laughed his high-pitched laugh, rubbing his neck with one large hand.
You were curled into the passenger seat of one of his cars, your legs tucked up under you. Saeran had been released from the hospital that day, so Saeyoung had left Saeran’s side for just long enough to retrieve his favorite car, a sleek red Ferrari, to—in his words—“drive Saeran home in style.” For the last few days, you’d essentially lived in the hospital, anxiously waiting for Saeran to wake up and then keeping him company until the hospital was willing to release him. Saeyoung had been there for much of that time, too, perching on the foot of the bed, cracking jokes and bringing strange presents, like a gaming devise he’d designed himself that featured ten different cat-themed puzzles.
Now, at long last, the three of you were on your way back to Saeyoung’s home, where you and Saeran had lived for two weeks before your first attempted rescue of Saeyoung. Since then, nobody had spent much time there. Now, it seemed like the most logical place to go—at least for a while.
Partway through the trip—the bunker was far out of the city, on an unmarked road off a rural highway—Saeran had asked to stop at this little market, pointing it out on his phone and directing Saeyoung to pull off the highway. He’d insisted on going in alone, and you and Saeyoung, both secretly relieved to see him walking around again, didn’t press the point.
But neither of you had thought about the inevitable, either—that for what was really the first time, you would be alone together. In Saeyoung’s Ferrari, surrounded by the scent of newly-cleaned leather.
“I like your car,” you said finally, and immediately grimaced. How lame am I?
Saeyoung cackled, his face breaking into a wide grin. “You know, no one’s ever told me that before?”
“What?” You shot him a puzzled look, running a finger over the soft leather stitching. You could tell Saeyoung had taken good care of this car. It was a very nice car.
“The only other person who’s ever been in any of my babies is Vanderwood,” Saeyoung said thoughtfully, stretching one arm above his head. Against your will, your eyes darted to the sliver of skin that peeked out from under his t-shirt. His side was muscled and dotted with scars, both old and recent. You felt your cheeks heating up and quickly looked away.
If Saeyoung noticed your wandering gaze—and you were sure he did—he didn’t mention it.
“And Vanderwood hates my babes,” he continued, stretching his other arm. Again, you were stuck by the similarities—and differences—between the twins. They moved in almost the same way, with a certain languid energy, and yet—Saeran seemed to always be taking up as little space as possible. Saeyoung was the opposite: he was all limbs, sprawling across the driver’s seat.
“Um, what?” you stuttered, realizing you’d stopped listening. You pulled your eyes back up to his face and this time he couldn’t help but acknowledge your staring. His cheeks flushed and for a second—just a split second—you caught a hard look in his golden eyes, a sort of burning you hadn’t seen there before. Then, in an instant, it was gone.
“Vanderwood doesn’t like my cars!” Saeyoung whined, as if the previous moment had never happened. A master of deflection, he was.
“Vanderwood is silly,” you said firmly, kicking your feet out of your sandals and propping them up on the dashboard. Saeyoung hooted with joy.
“Yes! This is what my babies are for! Maximum comfort!”
Suddenly, you were moving, and you shrieked.
“Saeyoung!”
The older Choi twin had a wicked grin on his face as he pressed the seat recline button, hard. The seat slammed back so fast you were practically horizontal.
“I modded some of these features,” he admitted, grinning.
You yelled his name again and swatted at him; he dodged expertly.
A gentle knock on the window startled both of you: you jumped again, and you saw a shadow cross Saeyoung’s face. He was definitely still on high-alert. You understood that. You all would be, for a while.
The shadow cleared away, replaced by a warm, open grin. You smiled too, pushing the lock button to let Saeran back into the cool, air conditioned car.
Your boyfriend slid quietly into the back seat, his green eyes twinkling.
“For you,” he said, and he leaned over the cup holder to pass you a bouquet. It was stunning: chrysanthemums and daffodils and red roses.
“Thank you!” you gasped, knowing, then, that he hadn’t just happened to spot this market on the map but had researched ahead of time, that he’d selected and arranged the bouquet, just as he always did. “But, hey.” You fixed him with a pointed stare. “You’re the one who just got out of the hospital, mister. We should be getting you flowers. Not the other way around!”
“We’re all alive because of you,” he said, shrugging. “I’m going to give you flowers every day for the rest of our lives.”
You felt the (familiar, as of late) sensation of tears stinging the inner corners of your eyes.
“I love you,” you whispered, burying your nose in the flowers and reaching for his hand. His smooth, gentle fingers enveloped yours.
“I love you more than anything in this world,” he said solemnly, bending over to press a soft kiss to the tip of each one of your fingers.
There were the tears again. Even now, after witnessing his strength firsthand, after watching as he recovered from the wounds that should have killed him, it still filled you with awe to see him whole and breathing and alive and free.
“I’m filled with love just watching…!” sang Saeyoung from the driver’s seat. His tone was playful but, as you glanced at him, you saw his expression was sincere.
“I didn’t forget you, hyung,” said Saeran, pulling away to reach for a paper bag on the seat beside him.
“Oh my god?! Do I get flowers?? Am I your beautiful princess too?!” cried Saeyoung, bouncing up and down in his seat. You suppressed a giggle.
From the bag, Saeran produced a sprawling plant with long, hardy-looking leaves, grounded in earth in a delicate clay pot.
“It’s a maranta,” he said, passing the pot to his stunned brother in the front seat. “People call them prayer plants, because the leaves curl in like they’re praying at night. It means thank you.”
Saeyoung took the plant from his brother, uncharacteristically speechless.
“You have to keep it alive,” Saeran added, eyeing his brother warily.
“I will,” Saeyoung said, his tone completely serious. “I promise.”
You roughly wiped away your tears with the sleeve of the sweater you’d been wearing for the past three days.
If Saeran felt shy about the gesture, he didn’t show it. He leaned back in his seat, a soft smile playing over his lips.
“Let’s go home, now,” he said, with a sort of finality. You twisted so you could keep your arm draped over the cup holder, and Saeran rested his hand on the edge of it, his fingertips just barely touching yours. The gesture sent a tingle up your spine.
Saeyoung started the car, a pinched look on his face like he just might cry, too. Then he leaned over and you realized a second too late what was happening and before you knew it, his face was nearly touching your chest, so close you could feel his breath in your lap. Your heart stopped.
He set the plant on the floor at your feet and straightened back up, quickly, as if nothing had happened. Your heart started again, hammering against your rib cage.
What…?
Was he teasing you? No way. Not now, and not like this. Was he oblivious, completely unaware of the way the air vibrated as his cheek nearly brushed against your neck? Did he see you as a sister already, somebody so entirely devoid of sexuality that he wouldn’t even consider the implications of sticking his face practically in your lap?
You shook your head rapidly as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, once again seeming totally unconscious of the inner turmoil he’d just caused you.
Who cares if he doesn’t see me as a sexual being? you thought frantically. He’s my boyfriend’s brother, after all.
Saeyoung merged onto the highway, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath. Saeran was alive; the twins were free. There was everything in the world to be relieved about.
So why did you feel like your heart was about to burst?
Later that night, you sat cross-legged on the bed, alone and a little nervous. You wore a shirt of Saeran’s—of Ray’s, actually, a soft, thin t-shirt he’d worn under all his layers and that had somehow made it out of Mint Eye, along with the other scarce possessions Saeran had. In the bunker, Saeran had hung Ray’s jacket in the closet, not wanting to wear it, not wanting to get rid of it. You understood. You were glad he’d kept it.
The shirt you’d claimed for yourself, loving how soft it was on your skin. You’d been wearing it a lot lately, sleeping in it (and some sweatpants you’d bought for yourself after leaving Mint Eye and realizing you owned essentially no clothes) on the couch in the hospital room.
Now, wearing just the shirt, sitting on the bed you hadn’t slept in in over a week, you felt different. A little self-conscious; a little alluring.
You heard the shower turn off and bit your lip.
When you and Saeran had found this place and decided to stay in it while tracking down Saeyoung, he had dug around in the various large closets and found bedding for you, soft sheets that somebody—probably Vanderwood—had brought Saeyoung. They were still in the original packaging.
He’d put the bedding on Saeyoung’s bed (which seemed to have been barely slept-in) and insisted you sleep there while he stayed on the couch. This plan had lasted exactly twenty-two minutes before you’d gone to the living room, grabbed him by both hands, and dragged him back to join you in the bed. He hadn’t suggested sleeping apart again, after that.
At some point while Saeran was in the hospital, Saeyoung had purchased another bed—a much larger, fancier one. Upon returning to the house that day, you’d found that Saeyoung had converted one of the bunker’s many huge, formerly-empty rooms into a proper bedroom for you and Saeran.
You noticed that he hadn’t even asked if you needed two bedrooms. He’d just assumed.
“We slept in your bed when you were, you know—” you’d admitted guiltily, staring in awe at the room, at the bed, at the fancy sheets (also new).
“Kidnapped?” he’d said lightly. “I figured. I don’t mind. But this is probably easier than us all sleeping in one bed, yeah?”
Saeran had laughed and said something in response but you hadn’t heard it over the inexplicable and irrepressible sound of your heart pounding in your eardrums.
And now here you were, in your beautiful new bed, in your gigantic new room. And you’d felt on edge and sensitive all day, like your skin was made of paper. And Saeran was about to get out of the shower.
And all of this contributed to your nerves, as you perched on the lush new comforter, curling your bare knees into Ray’s shirt. There was a lot that you and Saeran had learned how to do together in the two weeks you’d lived alone in the bunker—things that were new to him and even some that were new to you, too.
But now, that all felt so long ago. You’d barely touched him over the last few days, embracing him innocently, never alone with him for long. You’d felt a burning desire in the pit of your stomach that you’d had to fight back because this was a hospital for god’s sake. And then today had been so strange, and the exchange with Saeyoung in the car had—you were ashamed to admit—only added fuel to the fire.
The door clicked, and you sat up straight. Saeran padded into the room, his white hair dripping onto the towel draped over his shoulders. He wore an unfamiliar t-shirt (probably Saeyoung’s) and the only pants you’d ever seen him sleep in, soft ones that you’d bought for him the day after fleeing Mint Eye.
(What did you sleep in at Mint Eye? you’d asked him. My clothes, he’d said, with a quiet, bitter laugh. Usually at my desk. I had a bed, but…I probably slept in a bed less in all my time at Mint Eye than I have since leaving.)
“Hey,” you said softly, patting the spot beside you on the bed.
“Hi, my love,” he said, giving you his gentlest smile. He perched next to you, running the towel over his hair. Grinning, you took it from him and moved behind him on the bed, rubbing his hair dry in easy, practiced motions.
“Mmmm,” he hummed, leaning back against your chest. His body was comforting and familiar and yet, somehow, the feeling of his shoulder blades pressing against you made you feel like you were falling apart at the seams.
“You know…” you started, glad he couldn’t see your suddenly fiery-red cheeks. “We haven’t gotten to sleep here, together, in. A while.”
Saeran was silent for a moment. You ruffled his hair with the towel and then passed it back to him; wordlessly, he tossed it on the floor.
“I’ve been…thinking about that too,” he said, and his sweet voice was different than it had been a moment before. Deeper, or—huskier, somehow.
“Yeah?” He was still facing away from you, and you slid a finger down his neck, catching the beads of water that had fallen there. The water was warm; his skin was warm, too.
Suddenly, he flipped around, surprising you—as he often had before—with his dexterity.
“I missed a lot of things, while I was in the hospital,” he said, his green eyes boring into yours. Your breath caught in your throat.
“I missed your ankles,” he murmured, slipping off the bed to bend over you and press a soft, searing kiss to one ankle, then the other.
“I missed your knees,” he continued, feathering light kisses up your calf, ghosting irreverent kisses on both knees.
“I missed your thighs.” He grasped one leg ever-so-lightly in his hand while dusting kisses up the other.
The ember you’d been tamping down for days sparked inside you.
“I missed my hips,” he said, tugging the waistband of your thin pajama pants down just a hair to press kisses on both hipbones. You didn’t miss the change of pronoun—his hips.
“My sides,” he continued, kissing up one side and across your belly to the other. You let him push up Ray’s shirt, gasping as his lips grazed your belly button.
“Mine,” he whispered, kissing up your chest—lifting your shirt as he went—and onto your neck. He pressed one hard, hot kiss to your throat, and your hips twitched in anticipation. He did it again, harder this time, his teeth grazing your skin. Your nerves had evaporated, replaced by a desperate, burning want.
“You’re teasing me, Saeran,” you murmured, weaving your hands through his hair.
“Am I?” he asked, peering up at you. The raw longing in his eyes took you by surprise, and you squirmed beneath him. He adjusted himself so his hips were just above yours, his chest hovering over you, his face inches from your own. “I wouldn’t want to do that.”
Then he closed the distance between you, his warm lips finally meeting yours. You tasted his toothpaste as he parted his lips, and you flicked your tongue across his teeth.
You’d kissed hundreds of times over the last few days, but they’d been soft, soothing, innocent kisses. This was different.
You moaned into his mouth and felt him respond instantly, his body pressing yours into the thick mattress.
“I want to worship you,” he whispered against your lips. You moaned again, louder, loving the way the sound spurred him on. You pushed your thighs together, seeking some relief from the unbridled desire tearing through you.
Instantly, he sensed it, and instantly, he sought to rectify it.
Saeran slid to the foot of the bed, tugging your pajama pants off your hips, down your legs. His breath on your thighs made your toes curl.
“I want to show you that you’re my goddess,” he said, teeth against your hipbone. You felt yourself going almost numb with want, pins and needles running up and down your legs.
Saeran’s tongue ghosted over your clit once, twice, and your hips bucked up to meet him.
You giggled breathily. “Sorry,” you said, not even sure what you were apologizing for.
“You’re perfect,” he said, and then his tongue danced over you again and you bit your lip, fingers grasping helplessly at the comforter underneath you.
His tongue fluttered over your clit again and again, falling into a natural rhythm.
Fast, much faster than usual, you felt your legs shaking, already close to the edge. The last few days, you realized in a moment of hazy recollection, you’d been holding yourself together like water in cupped hands.
“P-please,” you hissed, and Saeran obliged you, keeping up the rhythm on your clit with his tongue while slipping one finger over you, around you, and then inside you.
You moaned, losing your train of thought entirely as the fire inside you surged, blurring your vision. You gasped his name as the pressure within you built to a point that was almost unbearable. The syllables on your lips were slurred, distorted, and your hips rose from the bed, your thighs shaking uncontrollably.
You focused your gaze, as best at you could, down at him, and caught a glimpse of his white hair bobbing up and down—and that was what did you in.
You came suddenly, the pleasure within you cresting till your vision blacked out completely. Your whole body was trembling and your fingernails bit into your palms, the world fading in and out of existence around you. There was only your heartbeat, Saeran’s tongue, and the fire raging inside you, burning you alive.
Then the flames subsided, and you felt the pleasure, pure and warm and sweet, like licking a lollipop. You swam through it, absorbing its sweetness with every cell of your body.
As the feeling slowly dissipated, you gasped, pulling Saeran off you with a fist of his hair in your fingers.
“i’m so. Freaking. Obsessed with you,” you said, tugging his face up to your level so you could kiss him fiercely.
He only moaned, and through his sweatpants you could feel just how affected he’d been, watching you come for him. You skated one hand down his body and palmed his erection through his pants and he crested into you.
“How bad do you want me right now?” you asked, smiling into his shoulder as you dipped a finger under the waistband of his pants, just grazing the base of his cock before pulling back out. He groaned.
“I need you,” he hissed, his hips stuttering against yours; he hadn’t been this unrestrained, this desperate, since your very first time with him.
“I’m always yours,” you said, and you tugged down his pants, pleased to find that he had nothing on under them. You reached for him again and grasped his cock in your hand, and he bit into your shoulder, trying not to cry out.
You guided him so his cock hovered just over you and wiggled your hips so he rubbed against your slick folds. You moaned softly, more for his sake than yours this time; he was long gone, his pupils totally blown and his gaze unfocused. He cried out for you, and you ran him over you a few more times, letting him suffer for a moment longer, relishing his anticipation.
Then you rocked your hips up, using your hands to guide him inside you. He made a sound between a groan and a squeak and thrusted into you immediately, as if unable to restrain himself. You steadied him with both hands on his shoulders.
“You…” he whispered, his disheveled face swimming before your eyes. “You…take the lead…please.”
You happily obliged him, wrapping one leg around him then rolling him over. His head fell back on the bed and you straddled him, leaning back and gripping his legs with both hands. You clenched around him slowly, carefully, making little figure-eights with your hips. He trembled beneath you, totally overcome.
You leaned back farther and felt him hit your g-spot; feeling the heat building behind your eyelids again, you forced yourself to keep moving, increasing the tempo.
“Oh my god,” he hissed, his voice breaking. His hips were shaking uncontrollably; you knew he couldn’t hold out for very long. Not now, not after waiting for what felt like forever.
You flipped onto your side, pulling him with you, wrapping both legs tightly around his hips. With your thighs, you pulled him deeper into you, and he took over then, seemingly unable to hold back, thrusting into you frantically.
He gripped your shoulder with one hand, fingernails biting into your flesh. His other hand drifted down, down, and found your clit, touching it gently, flicking against its pulsing heat.
The unexpected touch was too much for you, and you came again, unexpectedly, wonderfully, your whole body clenching around him. This time, you saw white, your vision narrowed to the the glistening of his hair in the dimly-lit room.
He chased you immediately, shaking in your arms as he came. He pressed his lips to your neck, grazing you with his teeth, and your hands tangled in your hair. The pleasure surged around you, wrapping you up, and you felt like you were hovering feet above the bed.
And then you came down again, panting as his face swam back into sight. He pressed his lips fiercely against yours, and you returned his kiss, holding him with your whole body.
“You are my everything,” he whispered into your mouth. Carefully, he pulled out of you, giving you a chance to catch your breath as he retrieved the towel from the floor and returned to clean you off.
“I really, really, really missed you,” you said earnestly.
“I’m so sorry for lying,” he responded, eyes on your face as he ran the towel over your thighs.
“When did you lie?”
“I said I wanted you to be happy without me,” he said. “I meant it, at the time. But I also…didn’t. I was always selfish—I always wanted us to be happy together.”
“And thank god for that, because I was about to smack you for that stupid plan of yours,” you said, laughing a little and tugging him back up onto the bed.
“You can do that now, if you want,” he said, face inches from yours, eyes sparkling. “But I promise that from now until eternity, I’ll always be right by your side.”
“Good,” you said, snuggling into his neck, feeling your body growing heavy. “Cause that was your last chance to get away. I’m not letting you go again.”
The anticipation, the pleasure, the release had all spun your head around, and you found your mind growing hazy again, your body already trying to drift off to sleep. He ran his fingers through your hair gently, meticulously brushing out the tangles.
“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.
“I love you, Saeran,” you whispered back, face buried in his chest.
You weren’t much for religion, personally—but you’d pray if that was what it took. You’d do anything to keep him right here, beside you, every night for the rest of your life.