“Hey babe,” Mark whispered, snuggling his face into Jinyoung’s neck as he wrapped his arms around him. “What’s for dinner?”

Jinyoung shuddered as the deep voice behind him sent vibrations down his spine. A pair of soft lips brushed against the back of his neck tenderly, and he could feel the sides of them slowly lifting into a smile before they pressed, slowly and gently, onto his warm skin.

“Soup, your favourite,” he breathed, heart fluttering as the man behind him released the longing kiss and loosened his embrace to hold him firmly at his hips. It had almost been two years of marriage, just days to their anniversary, and more than seven years since they got together. Yet, until today, Mark’s touches still did magic to Jinyoung.

“That’s all? I didn’t marry you to starve,” Mark laughed, and Jinyoung dropped the ladle into the boiling pot of cream of mushroom to turn around and shoot a glare at his husband. “Mark ing Tuan,” he growled, “you ungrateful piece of –”

.

He was cut off by Mark’s lips sealing his, which knocked the wind right out of his lungs. Mark tasted of coffee with a hint of mint – probably from chewing gum after his afternoon latte – and he kissed with delicate movement, like the act was an art and he was a master of it.

There was always something about his kisses that the soul out of Jinyoung’s body. Perhaps it was how they were effortlessly sensual, from the way his grip on Jinyoung tightened as he leaned in, and from the way he took the kisses slow and gentle, like they were fragile, precious. Like every kiss was their first kiss.

In simple terms, Mark was a great kisser, and Jinyoung had a great problem with that.

“Mm,” Mark hummed as he pulled away from the kiss with an audible smack. He smiled, gaze flickering from Jinyoung’s lips to his eyes. “Just kidding, darling. I could smell the pizza in the oven from our room. Thank you for making dinner.” He then leaned in again to peck the younger’s forehead, before walking away to set the dining table.

“You’re welcome,” Jinyoung sighed, picking up the ladle drowned in his soup. It was a great problem, because he was defenseless against his kisses, and he always fell for his sweet words. Jaebum said he was blinded by love, and Jackson often mocked him for being a complete fool for Mark. He never denied, for he knew they were right. Until the day he figured out the solution to resist Mark’s lips, Mark was in total control.

Jinyoung trained his eyes on the bowl of soup he scooped up for Mark, watching the thick liquid slosh dangerously up the edges of the bowl as he trod, as steadily as he could, towards the table. Argh, should have bought that pair of $9.50 oven gloves in the mart last Saturday, he chided himself internally as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to suppress his screams of pain from the heat of the piping hot soup.

“Let me get that.” Jinyoung felt instant relief as in a split second, the bowl was taken out of his hands and expertly carried to the table. “You should have bought that pair of $9.50 oven gloves in the mart last Saturday,” Mark advised while he turned back to Jinyoung, holding his waist as he sat him down on the chair beside him.

How in the world did he?

Jinyoung stared at Mark in awe for a moment, before snapping out of his daze when Mark dove straight in for the soup. He opened his mouth to warn him not to scald his tongue but before any words could form, Mark looked up at him and said, “I know, it’s hot.”

“Stop it, Mark,” Jinyoung snapped, and Mark’s serene expression contorted into a frown. He put his spoon down gingerly, careful not to clink it against the porcelain bowl, then raised his head to face Jinyoung, eye to eye. “Jinyoung ah, did I do something wrong? If I did, I really didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry if I did something…” His voice trailed off in stammers when he noticed how Jinyoung’s death glare was unmoving and never softened.

“Stop reading my mind and stop saying everything I want to say! You have no rights to steal my thoughts!” Jinyoung blurted, face red from his sudden outburst. That sounded so… stupid. He slapped himself mentally, and squeezed his eyes in sheer embarrassment. When he finally found courage to open them again, the first thing he saw was Mark gradually turning red as he bit his lower lip. He was clearly amused, his body trembling, at the verge of convulsing with laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Jinyoung mumbled and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Of course it’s not,” Mark managed to reply behind stifled laughter. “I just know you too well,” he crooned. “I can’t help that I love you too much.”

Ugh. Him and his way with words!

Forcing his facial muscles into a sneer, Jinyoung looked away. Mark had had his way for the past hundred times (or more, he had lost count), and Jinyoung wanted to change that. In fact, the last time he remembered when he was in control was during their wedding day, simply because Mark couldn’t care less about whether roses or calla lilies lined their wedding aisle. “It’s really up to you, babe. You’re the man in our relationship. You make the decisions, remember?” He had said, before giving a smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet with the right touch of shyness that melted Jinyoung right down to the floor.

Well, Mark Tuan freaking lied. Man in the relationship? Him? Park Jinyoung? If he heard that now, he would scoff. He should have learnt his idioms better – what did his middle school teacher say? Do not judge a book by its cover? More like “never marry a baby-faced, doe-eyed and pouty boy who claims to be indecisive, dependent and shy because even though he looks cute as and is seemingly quiet he is probably going to turn into a beast in bed and play with your damn feelings by pulling out the I-love-you-so-much card and kissing unnecessarily well”.

No, it was not that he felt emasculated – that’d be ridiculous. He probably did not mind that Mark was taking the lead in their relationship; he just didn’t particularly like how Mark could read him like an open book when he couldn’t do the same to him. Did he not know his husband well enough? How was it that he was a slave to Mark’s every word and touch, but not vice-versa? Was he even good enough for him?

Well, at the very least, Mark should give me a chance to speak my mind and not –

“Okay then,” Mark sighed, interrupting Jinyoung’s thoughts. “How about I keep my mouth shut and let you say whatever you want for the rest of dinner?”

There he goes again. Jinyoung’s jaw slackened; he couldn’t believe it. Feeling the weight of Mark’s expecting stare, he rummaged his mind for something – anything, to back his stance. “W-well, I f-feel that –” he stuttered, eyes darting everywhere but on Mark.