Red...

The colour on his hands. The crimson strands wrapped around his fingers, velvet and delicate. It's beautiful, he thought. It's the colour of love.

Yongguk couldn't help but tug at them gently, desperately seeking for proximity, for warmth, for security. Clawing onto the younger man's hair made him feel safe. It drowned the insecurities that were creeping up in the back of his mind. His bed dipped as he pressed his lips more fervently against Himchan’s. 

Himchan hissed when Yongguk’s nails scratched at his scalp. He slapped the elder on the arm and pulled away, narrowing his eyes when Yongguk gave him a confused look. “You’re messing it up…” he complained, eyebrows furrowed.

Yongguk only grinned, unapologetic. “I like your hair,” he said.

“You’re not allowed to touch it,” Himchan mumbled. A pleasant breeze blew in from the large windows—Yongguk’s favorite things about his apartment—and made the younger male’s hair sway back and forth temptingly. Just as Himchan ended his sentence Yongguk was twisting his fingers into the his hair already, passionately locking their lips together. 

Himchan didn’t pull away this time. The pricking sensation of Yongguk’s blunt nails sinking into his scalp was sending waves of pleasure along his spine, together with the gratifying sensation of the elder lapping at his lips and the low, bass growls that he was making.

“You’re not listening to me,” Himchan mumbled into Yongguk’s ear while th