I hate how much I want you

Hong was above him now — knees pressing into the mattress, arms gently but firmly guiding Nut’s wrists until they were crossed above his head. He held them there, not to dominate, but to feel — to keep Nut close, steady, present.

The space between them was almost nothing.

Skin on skin. Breath against breath. Hearts thudding so loud it felt like they echoed through the room.

Hong looked down.

Not just at Nut’s body, though it was right there beneath him — bare, warm, alive. But into his eyes. Deep, dark, unreadable eyes that somehow always pulled him in. This close, there was nowhere to hide. No more teasing, no more shields.

Just truth.

And Nut… Nut was looking back just as fiercely. Like he wasn’t afraid of being seen. Like he wanted Hong to see all of him — the sarcasm, the chaos, the tenderness he only ever showed behind closed doors.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Nut whispered, a soft smirk curving at the edges of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His voice trembled slightly.

“Because I don’t know how else to look at you anymore,” Hong answered, quiet but unflinching.

He leaned closer. Their foreheads touched again.

“I hate how much I want you,” Hong confessed.

Nut’s voice softened. “Then stop pretending you don’t.”

There was a flicker between them. Not just desire — but something older, deeper. Something that had been growing through every fight, every laugh, every stare held too long.

They were naked, yes — but not just in body.

In this moment, they were bare in a way that left no room for pretending.

And as Hong let go of Nut’s hands and traced his fingers down his arms, letting them fall naturally to either side, he realized —

There was no going back now.

Only forward. Into this terrifying, breathtaking fall.

Together.

Hong starts kissing Nut. Nut's hands try to hug Hong, but they tremble in the air, not even touching Hong's back.

Hong sits on Nut's penis and starts moving slowly. Nut looks down at Hong and wonders “ How have I gone this long without making him mine? “

Nut raises his head and starts drawing circles on Hong's breasts with his tongue. He bites them and sucks. Hong lets out loud screams and starts pressing Nut's head even harder against him.

After a while, Hong falls on Nut, panting. Nut smiles, starts stroking Hong's head, saying:

"You're doing a good job."

Hong approaches Nut's ear and whispers:

"Nut, I want to fuck you."

For a second, Nut didn't respond. Not from shock, but from the weight of everything behind those few words — the trust it took to ask, the vulnerability in showing want, the shift in balance that came not from power, but from love.

His heart thudded gently. He cupped Hong's cheek, thumb brushing the delicate curve of his jaw. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice just as soft.

Hong nodded, his eyes never leaving Nut's. "I want to take care of you."

That sentence undid him more than anything else.

Nut lay on his back. Hong began to kiss Nut's back and leave traces of love on it, as if he wanted to show that Nut was his.

Then he lay on Nut and began to slowly insert his penis into Nut.

It wasn't about roles. It was about surrender and trust, about giving space for others to love you in the way they wanted, needed. And as Hong moved with trembling certainty, Nut realized he wasn't losing anything by letting go — he was gaining something new. A different kind of closeness. A different kind of memory etched into skin and heart.