Work Text:
“Everything’s off. Keep it steady, Josh.”
Sounds of material hissing faintly heard as soon as Jeonghan peeled off his space jacket, seals disengaged. Underneath, the black sleeveless undersuit clung tightly to his frame. Usual situation considering the atmospheric transitions, though the fit always made him feel like a snake shedding its skin. Joshua was still in the cockpit, probably minding his own business on tracing the next destination, so Jeonghan let him be. He wanted to get some fresh air—which was impossible at this very moment, but he didn’t mind exhaling a recycled one either. In the docking bay where it begins to fill his lungs, slightly stale, tinged with coolant and metal.
Below the ship’s landing ramp, the colony pulsed with a quiet, grim life. This place—Station Romulus—had clearly been active for a while. Log report might have told the tale itself: rusting infrastructure and patched-up walkways. Workers moved like shadows between corrugated shelters and prefab structures, and Jeonghan could tell from their sunken faces that they had not enough sleep for being enslaved in too many shifts. A few children—surprise, the ones that made it out alive in this world unfit for proliferating—were seen running barefoot through the dust with laughter that sounded strange in the stillness.
Jeonghan adjusted the strap of his gear pack and stepped down onto the platform, boots thudding on the durasteel floor.
“You’re actually going down there?” Seungcheol called from inside the ship, leaning against the bulkhead with a raised brow. He had just finished sorting the reports, and seemingly had no interest in coming down unless the situation urged him to.
Jeonghan shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. “Why not? Might as well see if anyone I know is still breathing.”
Jeonghan learned to never speak of the devil. Chaos just erupted past the trade stalls.
A crowd was parting quickly, shouts rising, and Jeonghan’s instincts kicked in. His pace broke into a jog as he pushed through the onlookers. Dust rose underfoot. Someone was being slammed into the wall of a supply shed. Jeonghan froze mid-step.
He knew that face. Even after all these years. Definitely not the face that he would miss. Lie. He thought about that visual every single day. Through passing galaxies or the night that he dreads whether this universe would ever find an end or not. He used to be there with him; not in the thick or thin, the man mostly appeared only for his own good.
If his identity were still the same, then he must be Kim Mingyu.
Nothing much looked different from Mingyu. He still had that smug, annoying face Jeonghan used to loathe when it had gotten too close from him. Still the same fit that wrapped him just the same; what a shame that his body was way too familiar for Jeonghan. The only thing that caught his eye the most was that Mingyu’s right arm wasn’t flesh. The metallic sheen of a cybernetic replacement glinted under the colony lights, and reflected in Jeonghan irises. The servos exposed, scarred with use. The arm twitched as he released his grip on the man he’d been pummeling.
“What the fuck?” When Mingyu turned his head and noticed the blonde that stood out with the spacesuit worn in a crowd filled with dirt and metals, he couldn’t help but flinch. “Yoon Jeonghan?”
Jeonghan’s eyes flicked to the man on the ground. Bloodied lip, one eye swelling shut. But he was laughing. “Chill,” Breathless he seemed to be. “We were betting on who could take the first hit.”
“You were betting your face?” Jeonghan replied dryly.
“Soonyoung,” Mingyu barked with a laugh. Surprisingly warm despite the violence. “Stay here. Watch our drinks.”
Mingyu turned back to Jeonghan with something that Jeonghan couldn’t seem to read in his expression. Disbelief? Joy? Missing me ? Mastering the art of the vague, Kim Mingyu would always be the victor of it. And when he threw his metal arm around Jeonghan’s neck in a loose embrace, the weight was startling.
“It’s been too long. I owe you a drink. No—several drinks.”
Jeonghan didn’t answer right away. He was still trying to process the sight of Mingyu. Or perhaps it’s the cold that tickles his neck every time Mingyu moves his arm and lets his fingers rest against his collarbone. The younger who had always been tougher, and yet, still reckless. That arm didn’t look like anything regulation-issue. Black market mod, if Jeonghan had to guess.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The bar was half-sunk into the lower level of the colony, wedged between a defunct med-bay and a sealed-off tunnel with rusted warning signs that read: BIOHAZARD – DO NOT ENTER. The entrance buzzed as they passed under the flickering signage, “ NEST” barely legible through the grime.
Jeonghan was never a fan of this place. Even when everything had to reset back to normal. And yet, this is the same place where he’d met Mingyu. Jeonghan remembered how the air was thick with heat and sweat, oil burning in exposed vents above the counter, and it had only gotten worse this time around. There are few engineers playing cards in the corner. Someone coughed wetly in the shadows. Jeonghan slid into the booth across from Mingyu as he watched the crackled light above them paint Mingyu’s face in long, uneven shadows.
Mingyu slapped a chipped metal cup in front of him. “Whiskey. Cheap. Not terrible.”
Jeonghan took it without thanks, watching Mingyu’s metal fingers curl around his own drink. The servos hissed quietly every time the joints moved. His eyes lingered on the arm. “So,” he said, low, “what happened to you?”
Mingyu didn’t seem bothered by the question. If anything, it was a brush for his ego. “Romulus happened.”
Jeonghan arched his brow. “The colony?”
“No,” Mingyu replied, mouth twisting into something humorless. “The lab. A hidden one. A few kilometers past the mine shaft perimeter. It’s not on the official map. Ever hear of Project Oracle?”
“Weyland-Yutani coverup?”
Mingyu laughed. “Which one?” He tilted the cup back and drained half. “We were salvaging scrap from a collapsed transport. Supposedly a downed cargo runner—empty, cold, dead. We weren’t even armed. Just a routine sweep.”
He set the cup down, fingers drumming against it like ticking clockwork. “Turns out it wasn’t cargo. The ship was carrying live samples. Some kind of larval-stage xeno strain. Mutated. They were small. Fast. One of them got into our suit seals.”
Jeonghan went still. “Jesus.”
“It chewed through our squad like wet paper. We sealed the bay, vented the oxygen. I made it out with two others.” He raised the metal hand. “Well, most of me did.”
Jeonghan didn’t seem to know whether Mingyu was trying to joke or not. Part of him was grateful that he was alive. Part of him was not sure if he was grateful that Mingyu was alive. Just an intrusive thought every now and then, really.
“They paid you off?” Jeonghan asked.
Mingyu nodded. “With a replacement arm and a non-disclosure agreement. Said it was ‘unauthorized cargo.’ Blamed the transport crew. Burned the ship and buried the files.”
“Sounds like Weyland-Yutani.”
Mingyu looked at Jeonghan for a little too long. Jeonghan tried to keep his gaze on the floating bubbles on his cheap whiskey, but the way it lingered made him feel like he was being stripped. Not in that way, just how his feelings are bare.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again.”
Jeonghan swirled his drink. “I thought you were dead.”
“Not yet.”
“We were never going to be more than what we were,” Jeonghan said softly.
Mingyu’s gaze dropped to the table. “Maybe. But I remember you waking up in my cot more times than I could count. And I know you didn’t stay just for the fucks.”
Jeonghan took another drink. Only a few drops left before he lost his excuses. And then make tiny gestures here and there. Keep the mind busy. Don’t lose yourself in this.
Mingyu leaned back in the booth, arm slung across the top of the seat like he owned the space. His eyes didn’t stray from Jeonghan, not even when the lights above them flickered and a sharp alarm somewhere distant echoed, then died. Colony noise. Always something breaking down.
“You still twitch when you’re annoyed,” Mingyu said casually, watching the way Jeonghan’s fingers tapped the side of his glass. “Didn’t think I’d remember that. Guess I forgot everything except you.”
Jeonghan gave him a side glance. “You’re drunk.”
“Not yet,” Mingyu flashed a grin. “But keep talking and I might fall in love again.”
Jeonghan scoffed under his breath. “You never did the first time.”
Mingyu leaned in. “Didn’t I?”
It was almost too faint but Jeonghan managed to catch it. He had this dangerous kind of softness that always came before something reckless. In a way that was enough to make his jaw ticked.
Mingyu’s cybernetic fingers tapped the table once—click, click—and then trailed lazily toward Jeonghan’s hand, stopping just short of touching. “I missed this mouth,” he said, eyes slipping down to Jeonghan’s lips. “You used to talk back more when I kissed you.”
“Maybe you got worse at kissing.”
Mingyu smirked. “Maybe. Maybe you just stopped letting yourself enjoy it.”
There was heat in his gaze now. That same hungry, searching kind of stare he’d had back then, in the narrow bunks of long-haul freighters and behind locked maintenance doors. They’d never had time for feelings. But they always found time for everything else.
His mind trailed back to the words leaving mingyu’s mouth. Just for fucks.
“Still wear that same expression,” Mingyu murmured, leaning closer until Jeonghan could smell the burn of whiskey on his breath. “That don’t-touch-me glare right before you pull me in anyway.”
Jeonghan turned his head slightly but he wouldn't pull away. Not that easily. He needed this just as much as his mind betrayed him.
“You keep talking like that,” he said smoothly, “and I’ll assume you want something.”
“Maybe I do.”
He let it hover near Jeonghan’s jaw, just shy of touching. Jeonghan felt it so vividly; the exposed servos whirred softly, and he didn’t even flinch. His eyes dropped to the arm, lingered, and then returned to Mingyu’s face.
“You rebuilt yourself just to flirt like this?”
Mingyu’s grin widened. “You like it?”
Jeonghan finally leaned in, lips ghosting near Mingyu’s ear as he murmured, voice like smoke:
“Why don’t you show me what that hand can do.”
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Jeonghan was lucky Mingyu had a room close to the bar.
Well—room was generous. It was more like a semi-public tent tucked in a back alley choked with rusted metal, leaking coolant, and discarded parts that might’ve been limbs once. The air was heavy with toxins; Jeonghan figured he’d choke to death if he stayed too long. But honestly, he was more concerned with how Mingyu’s arm might ruin him before the air ever got the chance.
“Eyes on me,” Mingyu commanded.
His cybernetic hand—cold, fuck, metal—was wrapped tight around Jeonghan’s cock. The grip was firm enough as much as it felt mechanical. If Jeonghan let his mind wander, he could imagine it going erratic. Malfunctioning. Unforgiving.
“Do you think I can’t pull this off with my own hand?” Mingyu’s face only left a few inches from Jeonghan, but even he couldn’t keep his mouth closed. Jeonghan remembered this part—how much Mingyu liked this. Both of them gasping, lips parted, breath mingling until the air felt too thick to breathe. The heat, the closeness. Mingyu would spit—he always did—and Jeonghan, filthy as ever, would let it drip, smear, and run. He’d rub it all over his face like he wanted to wear Mingyu. Like he belonged under him.
“You’re talking too much,” Jeonghan muttered, tugging at the corner of Mingyu’s suit. “Let me be the judge of that.”
The problem with space suits? You either stripped bare or wrestled awkwardly with half-on limbs and limited movement. Jeonghan didn’t care. Time was short. Joshua would nag his ass off if he didn’t get back in time for the general inspection. They were supposed to run diagnostics the moment they landed. Mingyu definitely knew that.
Which meant this? This was a win for him. Because Mingyu would let Jeonghan in—any way, any time, in any form. He always had.
That metal arm? Just another damned addition. Another way to ruin him.
“F-fuck. Mingyu…” Jeonghan muttered under his breath. He arched his back to thrust his cock as Mingyu had grown more and more erratic. Whatever kind of power that he had in his hand; Jeonghan felt that it was vibrating. Pulsing with a calibrated precision. Jeonghan swore that Mingyu was cheating.
“Look at you,” Mingyu murmured. He wasn’t even moving now. Just watching. Watching as Jeonghan fucked into his motionless, unrelenting hand.
“I could’ve ruined you with this arm every goddamn day. And this?” Mingyu smirked. “This is only the beginning.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jeonghan snapped, eyes squeezing shut, his whole body trembling with the edge of release. He was so fucking close—his nerves burning, unraveling—but he needed that final push.
Mingyu, the asshole he always was, yanked his hand away.
“Mingyu!” Jeonghan whined, breath catching in his throat. “Fuck you.”
And of course, the only response Mingyu gave was the one that fit him perfectly: a laugh. That smug, victorious little smirk, paired with the kind of laugh that said he knew—he knew how ruined Jeonghan was right now. That twitching, aching cock begging for a single touch. That slick heat trailing down his thighs. It was all so fucking perfect.
“I want you, Yoon Jeonghan,” Mingyu said, voice lower now, heavier. He leaned over him, crowding Jeonghan’s space completely.
Jeonghan felt the weight of Mingyu’s cybernetic arm press against his back—cool, solid, claiming.
Mingyu whispered, lips brushing his ear. “And this is just a fraction of how much I want you.”
Jeonghan swore he could come just from the way Mingyu spoke—low, electric, soaked in that dark confidence that always made his head spin. It was intoxicating, crawling under his skin like static. But coming too soon would be humiliating. Too obvious. It’d mean he’d been waiting—aching—for this.
So when Mingyu slipped a single synthetic finger inside him, the sensation made Jeonghan jolt. His back arched as his eyes rolled back, and slick dripped helplessly from his cock.
“Already?” Mingyu chuckled, watching him unravel. “Just one finger. Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jeonghan hated that word—beautiful. Not in general. Just from Mingyu. Because when he said it, it sounded like a memory. Like regret. Like something Jeonghan wanted to forget but couldn’t. So he shoved it down, buried it beneath the heat and need. For now, he only needed one thing.
“Give me more,” he rasped. Though he didn’t need to. Mingyu, always happy to ruin him, obeyed. Two fingers. Then three. Pushing in, pulling out, each movement deep and cruelly slow.
“Still so loose,” he muttered against Jeonghan’s skin. “Someone else fuck you while I was gone? Huh? Did I miss something?”
Wrong.
Jeonghan wanted to scream it. To spit in Mingyu’s face. No one had touched him. But maybe he’d fucked himself on his fingers, whispering Mingyu’s name into his fist. Maybe he’d locked the ship’s engine room and made sure Seungcheol and Joshua wouldn’t hear a thing while he pressed anything he could find inside, imagining it was this.
He didn’t have to answer. Mingyu already knew.
And then he felt it—wet. Mingyu’s tongue, hot and slow, dragging over his chest. Around his nipple. That bud had always been sensitive, and Mingyu knew. Knew exactly where to put his mouth, knew how to suck until Jeonghan was a trembling mess.
“Mingyu—fuck—don’t.”
But of course, Mingyu didn’t stop. He bit down, just enough to hurt. Jeonghan’s entire body twitched, caught in overstimulation. The sensation was too much—his chest, his cock, and then that damned cold, precise pressure from below. That fucking metal. It made him feel like he was coming apart from both ends.
Mingyu did everything; he sucked, he bit, he twisted and twirled like it was second nature. If Jeonghan could, he would’ve billed that damn tongue for how skilled it was. And those metallic fingers? Heavenly. Hellish, maybe. Either way, they felt perfect. Inhuman in all the right ways.
“Mingyu… P-please. Fuck me.”
The words slipped out before Jeonghan could hold them back. This—this wasn’t enough. His body was screaming for more, and his mouth betrayed him without hesitation. But he knew better. With Mingyu, begging only got you so far. Patience was the real game. Too bad Jeonghan had never been good at that.
Mingyu didn’t reply—not verbally. He doubled down.
He sucked harder on Jeonghan’s chest, dragging his tongue over both nipples, licking and biting until Jeonghan jolted with every movement. Saliva smeared across his skin, leaving glistening wet patches that felt filthy in the best possible way. Mingyu didn’t spare a single spot. He devoured, and worse, marked.
Meanwhile, those damned cybernetic fingers kept working inside him. Jeonghan could swear Mingyu had flipped some kind of internal switch—they weren’t just thrusting anymore. They were vibrating. Deep, fast, inhuman. It was like being touched by something alien, something built specifically to destroy him from the inside.
“Mingyu… please—I can’t—” Jeonghan gasped, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
He couldn’t. His muscles trembled. His body burned. He wanted to stop, but every movement and every push just sent him spiraling faster, higher. Mingyu’s tongue still explored his chest with maddening focus. It was too much. He came again; unexpected, uncontrollable. Slick coated his abdomen, a shaking mess beneath Mingyu’s weight.
“Again?” Mingyu grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Still not even the real thing inside you.”
Fucking bastard. Of course Mingyu loved this. Of course he knew he was the only one who could wreck Jeonghan like this.
He grabbed Mingyu by the collar, yanked him forward, and crashed their lips together. It was the kind of kiss that devoured. Breathless. Starved. Hungry. His teeth sank into Mingyu’s lower lip, deep enough to draw blood; sharp, coppery, unmistakably real in a way most things in their lives weren’t. Jeonghan tasted it like proof.
Kiss me more.
Kiss me like you fucking mean it.
Mingyu did and he loved it. In between kisses, in the heat and haze, Jeonghan didn’t even notice it. Not until something hard pressed against him, hot and unrelenting, nudging at his entrance.
“I know you wanted me to fuck you,” Mingyu whispered, voice low and guttural against Jeonghan’s ear. It felt like a forbidden voltage ran down Jeonghan’s spine like static off a faulty cable, enough to arch his back, enough to make his thoughts stutter.
“But I’d rather save that,” Mingyu continued, his breath warm against Jeonghan’s temple, “for another visit. You. Back on this planet.”
Jeonghan nearly laughed, but it caught in his throat like smoke. He glanced up, eyes finding Mingyu’s in the dim violet wash of the bar’s failing neon.
Once, those eyes had constellations in them: bright, reckless things that pulled Jeonghan in like a promise. Now? Now they were dark matter. Gravity wells. A pull you don’t escape from.
“You’re torturing me,” Jeonghan murmured, voice hoarse, raw at the edges. “I want you. I want this. Just for tonight. Please.”
Mingyu didn’t answer. Not immediately. He only looked at him.
Until the silence between them hummed, filled with everything unsaid, with the low mechanical whirr of the power grid outside, with the distant cough of someone venting air too close to the acid rain line.
Maybe that was the problem. If they touched again like this— really touched—it would tear the thin veil holding them apart.
And tomorrow, Jeonghan would be halfway across a gas giant’s orbit, or plunging into a terraformed crater on some half-failed colony. While Mingyu stayed here. A salvager with a synthetic arm and too much history, chewing wires for Weyland-Yutani until he broke.
Jeonghan let out a dry, bitter laugh. “You don’t want me like that.”
“I do.” Mingyu’s voice dropped a notch. “I just need to know if there’ll be another time.”
Jeonghan stared at the ceiling, where condensation beaded against rusted aluminum. “I’ll probably get eaten by a Xenomorph before that happens.”
Mingyu smirked. “Worth the wait.”
“You could’ve kept me, you know.”
“Not my style,” Mingyu said, brushing their lips, barely a kiss. “But if you ever make it back—and still want a taste of this… metal—I’ll be your guest.”
Jeonghan huffed, half a scoff, half a sigh. “Fuck you.”
“On another planet?”
“Whatever that means to you.”