"S-slow down," Yeosang gasped, trying to take in Seonghwa's length inside, but it was big. Even the stretch earlier didn't seem to work. The deal was to sleep with Seonghwa, and the older help him with his cigarette needs, weird thing, but Yeosang agreed. So now he was suffering for cigarettes he could buy himself.

"It's ok," Seonghwa shushed him, rubbing his lower back and gently pushing Yeosang's hips down. Earning a loud whine once the tip entered him.

Yeosang flinched on Seonghwa's lap once a few inches more slipped inside. "Get it out, it hurts, please get it out," he gasped, clawing at Seonghwa's shoulder, and he was off of his lap in milliseconds.

"That's fine. we can smoke now if you want, I don't want you to suffer -"

"Just... finish quickly, we can enjoy it better another time,"

×

Yeosang lit his very anticipated cigarette, the smoke curling into the air as he took a long, slow drag. The familiar taste soothed him, grounding him after the dizzying sensations he had just experienced with Seonghwa. He watched as the smoke floated away, his mind momentarily distracted from the earlier intensity.

Seonghwa, still panting slightly, leaned back against the wall, his eyes fixed on Yeosang with a mix of concern and amusement. "You really should've told me you weren't ready," he said, his voice teasing but laced with sincerity. "I thought I was being gentle."

Yeosang laughed softly, the smoke from his cigarette wavering in the air. "Gentle? More like trying to break me in half," he replied, taking another drag before blowing out the smoke languidly. The cool night air felt refreshing against his flushed skin.

"I'm sorry," Seonghwa said, his tone shifting to one of genuine regret. "I just thought... well, I guess I got carried away. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"It’s fine," Yeosang assured him, finally feeling more at ease. "I just wasn't expecting it to be quite like that. I guess I was too eager to get what I wanted."

Seonghwa chuckled lightly, his gaze softening. "You don't have to rush into anything, you know. We can take our time."

Yeosang nodded, thinking about how complicated their arrangement had gotten. What started as a simple trade quickly turned into something much more complex. He looked over at Seonghwa, watching the way the moonlight caught the contours of his face. Mild curiosity and attraction tinged his thoughts.

"How about we just... enjoy the moment?" Yeosang suggested, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "No pressure, just us."

"Yeah, I like that idea," Seonghwa replied, his smile returning. He shifted closer, the space between them shrinking as they began to embrace the comfort of each other's company without the weight of expectations.

As Yeosang took another drag, he felt the tension from earlier dissipate, replaced with an unspoken understanding. They had the night ahead of them, and whatever happened next, they would face it together—slowly, and in their own time.

...

"Can you buy me like... five packs? I need to smoke, but I'm too lazy to get up," Yeosang said on the phone, rolling over onto his back on the couch. He stared up at the ceiling, the dim light casting soft shadows as he waited for Seonghwa’s response.

“Five packs? You’re really going to smoke that much?” Seonghwa's voice came through the line, sounding both amused and slightly incredulous.

“Hey, it’s not like I smoke all the time,” Yeosang replied, a smirk creeping onto his face. “But I’ve got this weird craving right now, and... you know, I might just finish off the last of my current stash before the day’s over. So, what do you say?”

“Alright, alright,” Seonghwa laughed. “I’ll pick them up. But you owe me a favor. And I expect to be compensated for my efforts.”

“Of course! I’ll treat you to something nice. Maybe a drink later?” Yeosang suggested, feeling a flutter of excitement at the thought of spending more time with Seonghwa.

“Drinks sound good. Just be ready—no more lounging around while I’m out doing your bidding,” Seonghwa teased.

Yeosang chuckled, glancing towards the mess of empty cigarette packs strewn across the coffee table. “Fine, fine. I promise I’ll be productive. Just hurry back!”

With a quick goodbye, he hung up the phone and stretched out on the couch, soon sinking into a comfortable daydream. He thought about their unusual relationship—how it turned from a simple transaction into something much more comfortable and familiar. The way Seonghwa always knew just how to make him laugh, how they could talk about anything and everything, and how he had quickly become someone Yeosang didn’t want to be without.

After a moment, Yeosang got up to tidy the living room, pushing aside the remnants of their last hangout. As he organized the space, he could barely wait for Seonghwa’s return. The thought of sharing a drink with him, of sitting close and talking late into the night, sent his heart racing with anticipation.

When Seonghwa arrived not long after, arms laden with bags, Yeosang met him at the door, a bright smile lighting up his face. "You’re a lifesaver!" he exclaimed, reaching for the packs.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the chuckle that escaped him. "You really do owe me," he said, stepping inside.

Yeosang took a pack out, grinning as he opened it. “Just wait until we get those drinks. Then I’ll really show you my appreciation,” he replied, a playful gleam in his eye.

"Oh, your precious cocktail is in the kitchen for buying me these goods," Yeosang shouted from the living room, a teasing grin on his face. He could hear the sound of Seonghwa’s footsteps as he made his way toward the kitchen, the atmosphere between them light and playful.

As Seonghwa entered the kitchen, he raised an eyebrow at the bottle of liquor Yeosang had left out. "You call this a cocktail?" he scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement. Yeosang had mixed a hasty concoction of whatever he could find in the pantry—primarily cheap vodka and orange juice—and with the addition of a couple of ice cubes, it certainly didn’t look gourmet.

"Hey, don’t knock it until you try it!" Yeosang protested, striking a mock-serious pose as he crossed his arms. "I put my heart into this masterpiece, you know."

Seonghwa chuckled, pouring himself a glass and taking a sip. He smirked at the taste, which was definitely more orange juice than vodka. "It’s... unique," he said diplomatically, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Yeosang couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated expression on Seonghwa’s face. "What, you don’t like it? Too bad! It’s all yours."

"Very generous of you," Seonghwa replied, rolling his eyes while leaning against the counter. "Next time, maybe let’s stick to ordering takeout or getting drinks from somewhere that isn’t your kitchen lab."

"Deal," Yeosang said, taking a sip of his own drink and scrunching up his nose at the not-so-subtle taste of the vodka. "But you have to admit, it’s kind of fun making our own drinks, even if they do turn out like this."

"I'll give you that," Seonghwa agreed, raising his glass in a mock toast, "to our culinary exploits."

Yeosang laughed, clinking his glass against Seonghwa's before taking a seat on the couch. "Now that we’ve got our drinks, what do we do next? Smoke? Watch something? Or should we just sit here and appreciate my bartending skills?"

Seonghwa joined him, settling down on the couch, the space between them comfortably filled. "How about we do a little bit of everything? We can smoke while we figure out a movie to watch."

"Perfect!" Yeosang exclaimed, grabbing the pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and pulling one out. He lit it with a practiced flick of his lighter, taking a deep drag and letting the smoke escape slowly, feeling the relaxing effects settle over him.

As the smoke curled into the air, Seonghwa leaned back, watching Yeosang with that familiar mix of admiration and lighthearted teasing. "You know, you might be a terrible bartender, but you are an excellent company."

Yeosang turned to Seonghwa, the smoke lingering between them, and flashed a soft smile. "I’ll take that as a compliment," he said, looking forward to the evening ahead—a mix of laughter, shared secrets, and perhaps the promise of something more in the quiet moments.