Sehun is a beautiful creature, beloved by hundreds of thousands of women and men alike, and yes, even if Baekhyun had a problem with Sehun just being so damn attractive, he could understand why the guy had a pull as strong as Jupiter’s gravitational force on every living thing. Like, literally almost any living, breathing thing. It made Baekhyun want to stuff Sehun in a closet somewhere and put him on status For Baekhyun’s Eyes Only. It also made Baekhyun want to take Sehun along every time he stepped out of the dorm (even if it was only taking out the trash), show him off like, , you see this? He’s mine. Feel free to want to jump off a cliff.

The dorms had gotten bigger as the years went on, so even if most of the guys were here, Baekhyun didn’t know—and did not want to know—what and and where the hell everybody’s at. He knew, though, that Chanyeol was somewhere upstairs, playing tonsil hockey with Jongdae (because he could hear the two, ew); Kyungsoo’s shooting (no, not on a firing range, but Baekhyun’d bet he’d love to, with Chanyeol as a target); Yixing was food shopping with Jongin. They were grown men (well, kind of? Baekhyun’s not sure what ‘men’ exactly connoted), they could take care of themselves without Junmyeon mothering them.

So Sen-Sen was all alone with Baekhyun. The latter also secretly wanted to play tonsil hockey with Sehun on the couch, and possibly more than that, but Sehun was eating, so Baekhyun and Baekhyun Jr. would have to wait. (Or not.)

“Why do you have to eat, like, 74 times a day?” complained Baekhyun when Sehun laughed off a try on seducing him away from guacamole. “And where the hell do you store all of that? Oh, I know. Your . Which I would like for you to use on me. In me, to be specific.”

“If I didn’t eat 74 times a day,” Sehun said, in that y deep voice that always made Baekhyun shiver, the kind that you’d associate with champagne glasses, James Bond, and that cool upperclassman crush you had ever since somebody gave you the bright idea of watching makjangs. “I’d probably give in to you every time and we’d end up in the hospital in a, well, particularly suggestive position.”

“You have such smartass ways of saying we’d get stuck together like a worst-case scenario flick.”

“Thanks for making it so vivid. I’m eating, you know.”

“And I’m trying to pull you away from your stupid avocadoes and chips. Jesus, I never thought I’d get jealous of god-beloved food,” Baekhyun grumbled. The way Sehun smiles a little, bites off a corner of that stupid Dorito while doing so, looking at Baekhyun with that glimmer of almost sadistic amusement he used anywhere from the stage to the bedroom—all of those are more than enough to drive Baekhyun clinically insane.

He wanted to tackle Sehun and beg him to do unspeakable things to Baekhyun right there on the kitchen floor, the idea of Yixing and Jongin finding more than a place to put the groceries in be damned; but he also wanted Sehun to keep on teasing him until he couldn’t even string together cohesive sentences.

God damn it. God freaking damn it. If he won’t relieve my stress, then dammit, I’ll stress eat, screw what the manager would say about my thighs. Baekhyun was about to grab himself a handful of Doritos when Sehun offered him one with guac already on it. A slight smile. Alright, here comes my chance.

Baekhyun opened his mouth and, with eyes half-lidded, ate the chip from Sehun’s fingers, not forgetting to let his lips touch Sehun’s fingertips—efforts which he hoped passed off as y, not retarded. He almost thought he could go further in the seduction game until Sehun laughed, low and cute and so annoyingly sensual, brushing his thumb against Baekhyun’s lower lip to the corner of his mouth, soft and gentle, like he was touching a priceless artwork, more precious than the Mona Lisa or Starry Night or anything, effortlessly melting Baekhyun into a puddle of frustrated and squeaky goo.

“Nice try, but no,” Sehun said, those long, long fingers, rough with a patina of calluses, tracing little patterns on Baekhyun’s jaw. Sehun’s eyes, however, said, Not yet.

“You’re an ,” Baekhyun informed him, giving up on trying to get Sehun away from the food. Ignoring the maddening pain from Little Baek’s head pressing against Baekhyun’s tight jeans, a clothing decision he regretted now. Just… chomping on the mouthful of avocado and corn chip with depressed vengeance, his head pressed against his arm and his cheek smushed like he was in a car and the driver braked too quickly and his face was pressed against the glass. Who was Baekhyun in his past life to deserve this? Nero? Hitler?

“Whoever raised you did a bad job. If you didn’t end up in EXO and consequently ended up with me, you’d probably be Jack the Ripper 2.0.” Sehun, hand-feeding him a Dorito again. Baekhyun was too cranky to even worry about the calories in that, so he ate it.

“Don’t give me any ideas, Baek,” Sehun said, dipping a chip. “I’m not staying young forever, so being a psychopath’s a great career alternative, now that you said it.” Feeds it to Baekhyun. A stress-eating paradox. Exhibit A, ladies and gents, the root of the stress, giving unhealthy placebos for that stress to the patient.

“Just don’t people, I’ll get pissed off. If you get really randy, just call me on the job, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Sehun laughed. “Okay, sir, I’ll take note of that command, sir, anything else, sir?”

“How about ? Like, right now?”

“No can do. You’re still chewing, and I’m still hungry.”

“Then God damn it stop making me fatter and go feed your skinny self!” It sounded mushed, since Baekhyun’s mouth is full, but what the hell.

Typical Sehun laugh. “I like watching you eat, and you look unbelievably cute.” Baekhyun shot him an are-you-kidding-me-Oh-Sehun look, but then Sehun turned serious.

“And who says you’re fat?” Sehun looked like he would legit break the arms and legs of the person who even gave that idea to Baekhyun.

“Nobody. The mirror. Fansite noonas. I don’t know,” Baekhyun replied, weirdly defensive. Chill out.

“Which fansite noonas?” demanded Sehun, very, very quietly, dangerously quietly. His tone also added, Oh, and you said mirror? We’d have to break every damn reflective thing in Korea, then.

“Look, don’t make a big deal out of it, Jesus,” said Baekhyun, shuddering. “I was kidding when I said you’d be Leatherface Jr. but damn it, you’re turning into Hannibal freaking Lecter.”

“C’mere,” Sehun said. Baekhyun leapt from his chair and nearly sprinted around the kitchen island, kicking a random tennis ball out of the way. Sehun took Baekhyun’s hand and led him to his lap, Sehun resting his chin on the Baekhyun’s shoulder, the crook of his neck. It seemed as if he was inhaling Baekhyun’s very scent, committing it to memory.

How very Hannibal Lecter-like, indeed, Baekhyun thought, but he was already softening against Sehun’s body, wrapped up and filled with Sehun and Sehun’s cologne, the one Baekhyun gave for his birthday, Sehun’s shampoo, the kiwi one with Oscar the Grouch on it, Sehun’s arms, wrapped around Baekhyun fully, Sehun’s warmth, Sehun, Sehun, Sehun.

“You’re Baekhyun,” he murmured into Baekhyun’s ear, that champagne-glass voice filling Baekhyun up with bubbles. “And you’re perfect. Meaning if the Victoria’s Secret Angels wear size zeros, they’re just salami-wrapped twigs compared to you. Meaning if you lived to be 190 years old, squat and grumpy like makjang old ladies, everybody else would be bunches of early okra. I love you, like this, and any future versions of this.”

“You should be a spokesperson for teenage body confidence,” Baekhyun joked, but smiled like that same teenager, anyway. “And early okra? What the hell, Oh Sehun?”

Being called perfect by somebody who looks like Jesus’ second coming can’t be beat by pretty much anything. The way Sehun talked about him, it was like Baekhyun was Asian Beyoncé or something. He inhaled another lungful of Sehun, exhaling and pressing into Sehun’s body, wishing he could melt like butter on toast, thinking, I want to be with you, forever and everywhere.

Sehun kissed the shell of Baekhyun’s ear, whispering, “Perfect.” Baekhyun’s cheek. “Perfect.” Baekhyun’s lips, kissing him deep and slow and sweet on the mouth. Whispering against his lips, “Perfect.” Baekhyun’s eyelids, closed to enjoy this display of affection. “Perfect.” Taking Baekhyun’s hand, kissing it, then the tips of Baekhyun’s fingers. Another kiss on the mouth.

“You’re perfect.”

Baekhyun had been smiling giddily like a schoolgirl that whole time, and squealing and gyrating like one would probably ruin the moment, so he settled on giving Sehun a quick kiss. Sehun flashed that little patented Sehun half-smile you’d mistake as sunny and sweet if you didn’t know better—his bwa-ha-ha-I’m-up-to-something smile, and kissed—more like straight-up almost mauled Baekhyun’s mouth, suddenly turning from angel to god.

Baekhyun pulled away, a little reluctantly (well, a lot reluctantly), and grumbled, “Just when I get over being , you decide to go ahead and—“

Sehun, in one swift motion, flipped Baekhyun over to face him on his lap, and all Baekhyun felt was one moment, he was carried up in midair like some wannabe gymnast, the next, there was Christ-bedamning friction on his lower front, making him gasp out loud. Sehun kissed him again, that hungry, rough kiss that made Baekhyun’s itch for a while ago look like a nun’s handshake. Kissing and kissing and kissing like Baekhyun was a drink Sehun had been wanting for an entire 100-degree day, which was really gratifying if you thought about it, but Baekhyun was quickly running out of oxygen, but damn it, he wanted Sehun so bad.

Finally, Sehun pulled away, breathing heavily, eyes alive with that amused-sadist look. “And if you don’t want to eat, then damn it, I’ll eat you,” he said.

Baekhyun would’ve wanted to reply some sort of y, only-in-the-movies comeback to that only-in-the-movies line, but he kind of just nervously laughed and said, “Well, somebody suddenly got in the mood.”

Sehun hummed. “I’ve been in the mood ever since you showed up in the kitchen, but it’s just really fun to play with your emotions. I mean, you’re the reincarnation of Napoleon most of the time, so—“

Baekhyun kicked Sehun’s shin, hard (he hoped), and Sehun laughed. Baekhyun felt the vibration on his neck, where Sehun’s mouth is currently doing some wonders in, and goddamn it if Sehun wasn’t going to something to the parts down below, Baekhyun is going to legit burst.

“So—“ Baekhyun moaned. Wish granted; Sehun had his hands all over Baekhyun’s thighs and and oh dear God, didn’t it feel good. “So your idea of—ahh!—of-of a good time is—God, Oh Sehun, you’ll make me end up in an asylum if you don’t get things going!”

I don’t even have enough oxygen in my brain to speak normally anymore, Baekhyun thought deliriously.

“I am getting things going,” Sehun laughed. “If you don’t like the way I’m doing it, consider it as payback for ping my fly at the concert, sir.”

Baekhyun wanted to hurl things at him, or give him a knuckle sandwich for lunch, if he really is that hungry, but he didn’t think his jelly-fied knees could handle that. Sehun gave him another one of those kisses that would make Baekhyun’s mouth pregnant if it had ovaries or something, and Baekhyun pulled himself closer to Sehun’s body, grinding his hips against Sehun’s lower half, hearing and feeling Sehun groan as they made out.

I officially hate jeans, Baekhyun thought, the dizzy, wispy thought of roller-coaster riders and parachute-less people in free fall. His entire body was thrumming, alive, taking over Baekhyun’s frontal lobe, reducing him to a breathy mass of need and want, no thought. He could barely register Sehun pulling off his own shirt and Baekhyun’s, but Baekhyun could clearly see and hear Sehun, but only Sehun alone, in Technicolor clarity, saturated and sharp. Everything else is just white noise.

“You look good enough to eat, you know that, Byun Baekhyun?” Sehun said, a hand on Baekhyun’s hip, the other playing with the baby hairs on the back of Baekhyun’s neck, and Baekhyun had to wonder how the hell Sehun manages to hold him when he himself feels like Silly Putty microwaved on high, how Baekhyun doesn’t spill over Sehun’s fingers.

He couldn’t help himself anymore. Damn it, if Sehun wanted him to beg, he’d make himself heard all the way over to Hongdae. Baekhyun wrapped his arms around Sehun’s neck, pressing insistently against Sehun, helping himself to Sehun’s smell, the cacophony of different intoxicants that make Baekhyun go wild every time Sehun came within two feet radius. me, screw me, damn it, love me, Oh Sehun.

“Make love to me, Sehun,” he whispered, breathless. “Right here, right now.” A low, Sehun-like chuckle, but Baekhyun felt Sehun’s fingers on the waistband of those damned tight jeans, on the button, the fly, felt the cold marble on his as Sehun gently pushed Baekhyun up against the kitchen island, kissing and kissing, felt the rising heat in the pit of his stomach and Baekhyun moaned out loud, felt Sehun’s hands on his—

A loud crash, then an equally loud curse, and an even louder yell of, “Which genius put this ball here?”

Both Baekhyun and Sehun froze, looking up at the disaster. It wasn’t Yixing nor Jongin, as Baekhyun had predicted earlier. Rather, it was Kyungsoo, a rather angry and ridiculously bundled-up Kyungsoo that’s heaped on the ground. He reminded Baekhyun of an oversized breakfast burrito, but maybe that’s just because of the guac they ate. Nevertheless, Baekhyun can’t believe his luck.

“God damn it, what’s a guy gotta do to get laid around here?” he grumbled at no one in particular. Maybe Kyungsoo, because just before Baekhyun gets lucky, just literally two seconds short of Sehun taking his pants off, this overgrown teddy-owl decides to trip on a damn tennis ball like the idiot he is. Kyungsoo kind of waddled back to his feet, glaring at the two, and Baekhyun raged.

“Where the did your damn coordination go, Do? Did you flush it down the toilet when you took your morning piss? Or maybe you spunked it out when Jongin wanted a pick-me-up with your flat ?” Baekhyun demanded, not giving a that he is half , with his fly ped, looking wrecked like a star in heat.

Kyungsoo raged back, unfazed. “It’s not my damn fault you don’t have enough of a brain to take you and Sehun up to a proper bed and there! What, you think you’re Maria Ozawa now? Screwing in the kitchen? You think when somebody cooks lunch in here they’re going to pretend your juke-joint hussy moans are some news announcer’s daily report on the weather, Byun? ‘This Tuesday it’ll be rainy with a chance of Oh Sehun me harder?’ Go get a damn room!”

“Least I don’t pretend I’m Mama Mary, like somebody I know,” Baekhyun snapped back. My God, Do Kyungsoo, I will murder you. “And when I get heard, at least it’s with people within a normal range of noise, since the only time I don’t get informed of you and Jongin playing your - while I’m eating dinner ing downstairs is when it’s night and he has to gag you.”

Sehun, in spite of looking extremely amused, apparently decided it was time to step in before somebody loses an eyeball.

“I think we’ll take your advice, Soo,” Sehun said, like they got cut in the middle of studying, not , and just straight picked up Baekhyun like he was a toddler, forcing Baekhyun to yelp and cling around Sehun’s neck like a spider monkey, holding Baekhyun up by holding his back of his thighs, which made Baekhyun even hornier. Hey, speaking of kinks, maybe we’d get to play some ? he thought.

“And watch out for the shirts on the floor, so you don’t break your skull and get Jongin pissed,” Sehun called out to Kyungsoo as they climbed the stairs, ignoring Kyungsoo’s tetchy retorts. Baekhyun felt a little better now that he was away from that Satan incarnate and Sehun’s body was bressed so close to his he could literally feel his heartbeat. Touching Sehun always made Baekhyun feel better, and even if it made the fans go insane with theories and (which are true, um), Baekhyun can’t help but rest his head on Sehun’s shoulder, pat Sehun’s , kiss his neck, and… yeah. He’s not exactly the most subtle.

Baekhyun rested his head on the crook of Sehun’s shoulder, burrowed his nose, and inhaled. Never mind that he’s probably breaking his boyfriend’s back, being carried like a baby. Sehun smelled good. And Baekhyun is Sehun’s baby. Nobody could argue with that.

“I love you,” Baekhyun muttered, sounding squished because his face is mushed against Sehun’s neck. He could feel the low thrum of Sehun’s throat, could almost see the smile.

“I love you more, Baek,” he said, and Baekhyun could feel every word, both on his skin, in his heart.

“Even if I have thunder thighs?”

“Your thighs are perfect, Byun Baekhyun, and if you get a bright idea to start starving yourself to slim down, I will force feed you.” Sehun is a part-time psychopath, and he is not the type to break promises.

“Fine,” Baekhyun muttered, but he’s smiling so much his cheekbones hurt. “Even if I’m bossy?”

“Even if you’re bossy,” Sehun affirmed. Baekhyun could feel Sehun’s hand lift from Baekhyun’s jeans to turn the doorknob. He had no idea if it’s his or Sehun’s room, didn’t care.

“Even if I get mad at everything?”

Sehun hummed, mm-hm. “Even then.”

“Even if I act like a hussy and your fly in front of a crowd the size of a small African nation?”

“Yup,” Sehun said, gently putting Baekhyun down on his back, Baekhyun looking up at Sehun. “Even if you always nag, always cling, even if you’re noisier than a terrier, even if you’re an emotional mess sometimes. I love you because you’re always noisy, clingy, bossy, angry. I love you because you have the most beautiful smile and laugh and voice and all of them make me want to go insane. I love you because you are kind and talented and smart and y.” Baekhyun laughed.

“y and kind are antonyms, dum-dum,” he pointed out, and Sehun looked unconvinced and said, Who says? He kissed Baekhyun again, and he whined involuntarily when Sehun pulled away. Big baby, he berated himself.

“I do and always will love you, so you don’t have to feel jealous of any woman or man or Dorito chip. Although I admit it’s y when you do.”

Sehun kissed him and Baekhyun didn’t have the heart to smack him in the chest for saying that, and he just couldn’t help but smile. Always, always, he feels like melting and sighing and inching closer to Sehun, closer until there is no space between them, as right now—screw what everybody else thinks or would think.

He’s mine, Baekhyun thought, not without that standard fiesty iness he’s regularly infected with. This -god main act of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel on meth is mine.

“You’re a weird version of Hannibal Lecter, you know that?” Baekhyun whispered, gasping and squirming a little from Sehun’s mouth on his neck, below his ear—Baekhyun’s coital Achilles heel.

“I know, Mr. Napoleon Byun-aparte,” Sehun said breezily, his voice amplified as his lips were so close, so deliciously close to Baekhyun’s ear. Baekhyun would get him for calling him that sometime after this, but right now he was a gooey, melty, squirming and mess, and he couldn’t care less if Sehun wanted to call him Nebuchadnezzar.

“I know. It’s why you love me,” Sehun said, kissing him full on the mouth again, deep and sweet, and Baekhyun found that yes, he had to agree.