𝘚𝘱𝘶𝘳

8.

"You're under my skin," Yeonjun breathed, his voice trembling as the words slipped out. "Ever since that night, I've wanted to claw you out, but I can't. I'm left with this need, this... craving." His voice was raw, a rasp that barely carried the weight of his emotions. He placed a hand on Soobin's chest, feeling the steady, pounding rhythm beneath his palm. As he glanced down at the space between them, the intensity of their desire was undeniable.

"That's how I've felt since this summer," Soobin admitted, his voice rough with emotion. He swallowed hard, reaching for Yeonjun's other hand and pressing it firmly against his own chest. "Like I'll burst into flames if I'm not tasting you. Kissing you. Fucking you."

Yeonjun chuckled softly, though the sound was strained. "So you missed me?" The question was almost ridiculous, but he needed to hear the answer.

Soobin groaned, the sound filled with frustration and longing. "More than you'll ever know," he growled, his voice low and urgent. He grabbed Yeonjun's hips, pulling him close, their lips crashing together as he pressed Yeonjun against a surface—was it a wall? No, a couch? It didn't matter.

Yeonjun gasped between kisses, his thoughts drifting. "I think I'm gonna get a job at that café on campus..." he managed to say as Soobin's lips trailed down his neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Soobin hummed in response, distracted by the task of marking Yeonjun's skin.

"I just hope I don't run into Thomas—" Yeonjun began, but Soobin's expression darkened as he abruptly pulled back, his gaze locking onto Yeonjun's.

"Do you always talk this much during sex?" Soobin asked, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.

"You didn't complain the multiple times I did over the phone," Yeonjun shot back, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

Soobin's expression softened into something more tender as he leaned in closer, practically covering Yeonjun's body with his own. "Don't say his name. Ever", he commanded, his voice a low, possessive growl.

Yeonjun nodded, his breath hitching. "Sure," he whispered.

"Now shut up and let me do the talking," Soobin ordered, his voice dropping to a husky murmur before he began to kiss down Yeonjun's stomach, leaving Yeonjun's words caught in his throat like a frog under a spell.

Yeonjun stared at the ceiling, his mind swirling as his body responded to every touch. Slowly, he let his eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the moment as is lips parted, a soft sigh escaping into the charged air.

Yeonjun knew three things with absolute certainty: never take candy from strangers, the ins and outs of interior design, and how to make the perfect pastry. He was so familiar with the workings of a café that he could run one in his sleep. The right hand was his secret weapon in the kitchen, and as for the left, well, it had its own talents. So when the owner of the on-campus café, The Study Nook, looked more impressed with every passing second of his interview, Yeonjun wasn't exactly surprised.

She had asked him the standard question: Why should we hire you? Yeonjun smiled, leaned forward slightly, and began his tale.

"And that's how I came to be known as the Cinnamon Roll," he finished with a chuckle, recalling the nickname that had stuck with him since his early days back home. "Funny story, I know, but it pretty much sums up why I'm the guy for this job. So, am I hired?"

The café owner, a sharp-eyed woman in her early forties, seemed to weigh his words carefully before nodding. "Well, there's no denying you're very experienced in this field," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "So I suppose there's no need for further questions. You're hired."