Archive of Our Own

Seonghwa tries his best to temper the anticipation thrumming madly beneath his skin as he turns down the side street that leads to his destination despite his heartbeat echoing every footstep in his ears. But the moment he catches sight of a familiar figure leaning against a building as though he’s expecting someone and staring out to sea, lost in thought, his pace increases at least twofold, his heart singing in joy and relief as it races even faster.

The setting sun casts the handsome man in a light that makes his skin shine golden, adding to the ethereal feeling of the moment and the resemblance of the man himself to heroic figures of paintings and romantic novels; waiting for his — perhaps forbidden — lover to meet him so that they may run away together and finally be free.

Waiting for Seonghwa. Just as he said he would.

His voice is overflowing with the same warmth and affection that are carried in the beaming smile he wears as he calls, “Hey, trouble.”

Hongjoong’s head snaps around at the greeting and his face splits into a wide grin as the quartermaster half-jogs the remaining short distance between them, allowing himself to be pulled into a kiss by his beloved’s hands on his waist, his own naturally framing the other man’s face — soft and slow and sweet and everything that Seonghwa has been craving for days now.

When they reluctantly part, foreheads resting against each other, he whispers, “I missed you.”

“I can tell,” the captain laughs softly, kissing away Seonghwa’s pout as he adds, “I missed you too, love.”

“Could have fooled me.” I know he’s only teasing, but still.

“No need to sulk, baby, I was only joking around.” Hongjoong drops another quick kiss to his quartermaster’s nose before taking his hand, lacing their fingers together. “C’mon, let’s get back to the ship; you can tell me what you learned while we walk.”

So it goes that Seonghwa informs his captain of the latest developments within the Navy — who is being sent where, for how long, and so on — while Hongjoong fills him in on what’s happened on the ship in his absence, laughing together at the antics of their crew. As their conversation fades into comfortable silence, the quartermaster’s mind drifts somewhat.

If it weren’t for the fact that he’s still in uniform, he could almost convince himself that they were going for a stroll as a regular couple, the conversation so easy and light. To everyone around them, that’s no doubt what this appears to be — a Navy soldier and his partner out for an evening walk. Though I suppose wearing my uniform just makes it more like… well, old times. Either way, I’ve missed this easy comfort.

“You’ve gone quiet, sweetheart,” Hongjoong draws him out of his thoughts by saying. “What’s on your mind, hm?”

“Have I? I suppose so; I was just thinking about how despite only being away for such a short time…” He pauses for a moment, then sighs softly. “I don’t know; I guess I’ve simply become so used to being around you at almost every hour that the past few days have felt… more lonely than I remember it. Am I making sense?”

With a reassuring hum, the shorter man lifts their joined hands to press a kiss to Seonghwa’s knuckles. “I understand, darling; our bed always feels empty without you. Get some sleep when we return while I take care of everything else.” The quartermaster tries to protest, but Hongjoong cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Captain’s orders,” he insists. Then, softly, he reaches up and brushes a thumb over his cheek as he adds, “You look tired, my Star; you deserve to rest. I won’t be far behind, I promise.”

Seonghwa pouts but makes no further argument; his partner is right, after all — he’s barely slept since he left the ship, his nights spent tossing and turning in fruitless attempts to settle his mind.

I never realised just how much easier it is for me to find sleep by Hongjoong’s side. Not that there was any way for him to have known such a thing before it came to be so habitual, but it’s still an epiphany of sorts.

Something about the fact that he sleeps better when he’s with his beloved makes the romantic part of him preen.

He tucks the comforting knowledge into a corner of his heart to ruminate on at a later point and in the meantime allows Hongjoong to lead him toward the docks. A small, private smile curves his lips as he realises that his partner’s grip on his hand is tighter than necessary; almost possessive. He rolls his eyes fondly at the thought. Typical Hongjoong.

His smile only grows when the other man draws him in close and wraps an arm around his waist as the crowd thickens around them the nearer they get to their destination.

Seonghwa can’t quite tell if it’s done out of instinctive habit or conscious intent, but nonetheless it’s as amusing as it is reassuring.

Ridiculous though it may be — considering they’ve spent less than a week apart — the idea that Hongjoong feels the need to cling to him like this has a warm feeling spreading through his chest; one that has his lips twitching smugly while his beloved expertly weaves them among the dozens upon dozens of people bustling about.

The arm around his waist serves as an anchor and he naturally relaxes in the hold, more than willing to merely be guided along despite being perfectly capable of walking on his own. He won’t admit it out loud — he doesn’t have to, anyway — but Hongjoong’s possessive streak makes him… happy isn’t quite the right word, but suffice it to say he isn’t bothered by it in the least.

Idly, he brushes a hand over the side of his neck, absently recalling the way the skin beneath his collar looked when he glanced at it in the mirror this morning before he left his quarters at the base. Knowing Hongjoong, he’ll probably decide he needs to “repaint” it tonight.

He can’t help the slight shiver that runs down his spine at the thought.

Hongjoong notices, because of course he does, and leans over to whisper in Seonghwa’s ear, “Are you alright, love?” The warm breath ghosting across his sensitive skin makes him shiver again.

“I’m fine.” A poor half-lie, but the truth isn’t something he’s quite sure how to articulate. Even after a little more than a year with Hongjoong, of freedom, he still finds it difficult to put certain thoughts into words in spite of his efforts.

The captain hums to himself and plants a lingering kiss to the underside of Seonghwa’s jaw as though he knows what was on his beloved’s mind anyway, making the quartermaster’s breath hitch in his throat and his heart stumble over a beat.

“If you insist. You’ll tell me if you’re not feeling well, won’t you?” Seonghwa nods hurriedly, almost certain that his pulse has given him away regardless — but Hongjoong makes no mention of it, instead only humming again. “Good.”

He finally pulls away and the taller man feels like he can breathe more normally again, at least for now; he knows his partner well enough at this point to be well aware that he definitely noticed the state of Seonghwa’s heartbeat and that he will ask for an explanation later.

But until then, he is safe.

The ship is in view now, the crowd thinning slowly as the street vendors begin to pack up their wares for the night. Without a word or even a glance in each other’s direction, the couple picks up their pace — the emptier the streets, the more difficult it is to hide.

After all, regardless of Seonghwa’s little… visits to his past like this, the fact remains that he is indeed now a pirate.

His gaze wanders to his right, to the man leading him with steady and confident footsteps, his eyes tracing over his features; sharp, sleek jaw set with a calculated nonchalance that’s mirrored in his bright eyes, the pointed slope of his nose that reflects both his fiendish cunning and his fae-like beauty, the slight smirk that naturally tugs at the corner of his gently curved lips…

Every single detail about this man is — and always has been, really — utterly captivating to Seonghwa. He can hardly tear his eyes away, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to kiss him.

His captain.

The man to whom he owes everything he now has.

His partner.

The love of his life.

Focus, Seonghwa; now is not the time to let down your guard. As much as he trusts Hongjoong, between the two of them he’s the one who should be more vigilant of the danger that follows them; it would be foolish not to — he is the reason for it, after all.

Overlapping shouts of familiar voices reach his ears and pull him from his troubled thoughts for the moment; he can’t help but smile when he looks up to find the crew — their little family — waving at them as they approach. They’ve always had such impeccable timing.

As soon as he and Hongjoong finally step onto the deck of the Destiny, Seonghwa finds it much easier to breathe, even though he can feel his exhaustion beginning to properly seep into his bones.

Despite that, he can’t help but smile watching the others practically trip over each other in their haste to greet him and their captain. Affection blooms in his chest as he regards each of the six faces before him.

Wooyoung wastes no time in throwing his arms around Seonghwa, exclaiming, “You’re back! I missed you!”

“You’re so dramatic; hyung was only gone for about three days,” says Yeosang, arms crossing over his chest. Not one among the eight of them mentions the lack of bite to his words.

Mock-offended, the cook whirls on the other boy and starts giving him a piece of his mind. The quartermaster rolls his eyes and shakes his head fondly, leaving them to their bickering and instead shifting his attention elsewhere.

As soon as he locks eyes with San — shuffling awkwardly on his feet and trying not to be too obvious about the way he’s wringing his hands together — Seonghwa takes a half-step away from Hongjoong’s side, the captain’s hand trailing along the small of his back as he moves, and extends his arms to the boy with a soft smile. Come here, he says without a word. It’s alright.

Relief visibly washes away the anxiety from the navigator’s demeanour and he charges forward, almost knocking the breath out of Seonghwa as he tucks himself as tightly into the embrace as possible.

The quartermaster squeezes San lightly and glances up to find their ship’s medic watching them with warm eyes and a tender smile. He unwraps one arm from the boy trying to melt himself into his body and offers it to the taller man in silent invitation.

Yunho’s smile splits into a wide, joyful grin as he takes the extended hand by the wrist and pulls — not roughly, but quick and sharp — causing Seonghwa to stumble for a second before he’s caught by the medic’s strong arms folding around both himself and the navigator. The quartermaster’s free hand settles against Yunho’s back and he closes his eyes to bask in it as they remain like that for a few long seconds.

“I hate to interrupt,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts in too soon, “but Seonghwa needs to rest, and we have a course to chart based on the intel he’s given us.”

San makes a displeased noise and tightens his arms around the quartermaster’s middle in protest. Affection clenches Seonghwa’s heart and he lets out a soft chuckle as he gently tries to pry the boy away from him. “The Captain is right,” he murmurs. “You should go.”

It takes a couple minutes of further gentle coaxing to convince the navigator to reluctantly let go of Seonghwa. Overwhelmed with fondness at the boy’s pouting face, he quickly drops a brief, almost barely-there kiss to the top of San’s head in the seconds before he pulls away entirely.

For a moment, everything is still, as if the world itself is holding its breath; in that moment, Seonghwa realises what he’s done.

Then, all of a sudden, the boy in Seonghwa’s arms is staring up at him in disbelief; the quartermaster tries to force away the flush threatening to crawl across his face as he gives San a smile that is hopefully encouraging enough to mask the way his heart pounds anxiously against his ribs. Gods, I hope I didn’t do something wrong… I’d hate to offend one of Hongjoong’s dearest friends.

“Did you just—” the navigator starts, but he’s cut off by the older man clearing his throat awkwardly and gesturing to Hongjoong — waiting as patiently as he can manage — with a nod of his head.

“Don’t keep him waiting,” he says gently.

With a hesitant nod of his own, San finally steps away from Seonghwa and drags his feet on his way over to Hongjoong, who receives him with a squeeze to his shoulder that brings another surge of affection to the quartermaster’s heart.

“Alright, enough standing around; let’s get out of here and be on our way,” orders the captain, ignoring the complaints of his crew. His expression is rather serious when his eyes land on his beloved. “And Seonghwa.”

“Yes?”

“Remember: captain’s orders; I’ll join you shortly, alright?”

Seonghwa can’t help the warm and fond smile that spreads across his face at his partner’s insistence. He nods and replies, “Of course.”

Hongjoong returns it with one of his own before immediately shifting his focus to plotting a course with the navigator while Seonghwa turns to cross the deck toward the captain’s quarters.

Yunho catches his eye as he and the others prepare to set sail, his brow furrowed in concern and curiosity — a sensible reaction, seeing as he is the closest thing to a proper physician among the crew. The older man shakes his head, stifling a yawn that appears to get the message across to the medic that he’s alright; still, he offers a kind smile as thanks.

As he crosses the deck, he makes sure to greet the other boys whom he didn’t get a chance to speak with earlier; Mingi pulls him into a nearly bone-crushing hug as Seonghwa passes, lifting him slightly in doing so, and for that brief moment his earlier worry of overstepping with San is swept entirely from his mind.

But only for a moment.

Once his feet return to the solid wood beneath them, his stomach twists as the nauseating anxiety floods back to him all at once; he grits his teeth and attempts to swallow his doubts, forcing them into a faraway corner of his mind until he feels more prepared to address them.

Seonghwa reaches for Yeosang’s hand as he passes by, squeezing it gently — both out of affection and in hopes of somewhat soothing the knot of unease in his chest — letting go only after Yeosang returns it in kind before moving on to Jongho and ruffling his hair, chuckling softly at the sour face the boy pulls despite making no attempts to dodge it, tenderness settling in beside the sense of dread.

For a moment he considers joining the other members of the crew in busily getting the ship ready to sail, itching to contribute as he normally would despite the tiredness of his body, but a voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like Hongjoong in both words and tone scolds him for delaying like this.

So, with a resigned sigh, he drags himself to the captain’s quarters and steps inside. As much as I hate not helping alongside everyone else, Hongjoong is right; I need to recover from the past few days. His eyelids grow heavier with every button of his coat that he unfastens, for even now he refuses to sleep in the uniform; some may call it a residual habit from the days he wore it with pride rather than in deception, which may be true, but it’s one Seonghwa doesn’t mind keeping.

He folds the garment neatly and places it in the trunk that contains both his and Hongjoong’s — truthfully mostly the latter’s — clothing that they bring with them to sea before taking a seat on the bed, exhaling a long breath.

Somehow a few days feels like almost an eternity.

The room itself has hardly changed in his absence; messier, perhaps, than when he left — books and loose papers scattered across the wooden floor as though thrown around carelessly — but that’s not exactly a surprise knowing that Hongjoong is much like the sea in nature, wild and chaotic. A small lamp hanging from the ceiling creaks as it swings lazily to the same rhythm as the waves below, adding to that of the ship itself.

He drops back against the sheets, and a smile spreads across his face at the familiar smell that drifts to his nose, warming his heart in much the same way as the dusk light trickling through the windows somewhat warms his body. He turns to his side to breathe it in deeper, nose pressed to the pillow and eyes fluttering shut as it wraps comfortingly around something deep within him.

Smells like home.

Seonghwa admittedly can’t help the giddiness that floods him at the thought, nor his soft sigh of contentment as he lingers on that final word for a moment. I’m so grateful that I chose this; I wouldn’t trade what I have now for anything in this life or the next.

When he blinks his eyes open again, it’s significantly darker outside, enough so that the lamp has now been lit; he must have fallen asleep for a while. The sound of humming and pen scratching against paper draws his attention to the desk that sits a short distance across the room and — more importantly — the man standing behind it, scribbling in one of his journals and seemingly unaware that he’s being watched.

The warm glow of the lamp makes Hongjoong look absolutely beautiful, his sharp features catching the light and casting shadows across his face that give him exactly the kind of dangerous and mysterious appearance that one would expect from the man becoming renowned as the Pirate King. But to Seonghwa, this is simply his beloved in perhaps his truest form — even the crew doesn’t often see this side of their captain; not, at least, the fullest extent of it. No, that is reserved for Seonghwa alone, and it’s an honour he treasures more than anything else.

He must be updating his logs before he comes to bed. Seonghwa stifles his quiet yawn with the back of his hand so that he doesn’t distract his partner from his work, but Hongjoong looks over to him anyway with a tender smile and warmth in his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, setting his pen down and walking over to the bed; he cups Seonghwa’s face in one hand, thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Sorry; did I wake you? I know I’ve been muttering to myself.”

“No,” replies the quartermaster, voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t bother to clear it. “Woke up on my own.”

Hongjoong hums affectionately and brushes his beloved’s long black hair out of his face so that he can press a kiss to his forehead.

Then, unexpectedly, he kneels before him.

Confused, Seonghwa frowns, but his question is answered before he can ask it when Hongjoong’s hands wrap around his lower leg, guiding it forward until his foot rests on the other man’s strong thigh — that same kind smile still curving his mouth as he starts unlacing Seonghwa’s boot.

A lump forms in the quartermaster’s throat at the sight, and his heart clenches with a surge of emotion that he can’t put a name to, something far beyond merely gratitude. He takes care of me so well…

It’s not the first time such a thought has come to mind — not at all; it’s very familiar to him, in fact — but something about the intimacy of this specific moment suddenly overwhelms him with that unnameable emotion, as if it’s intensified tenfold, and it makes his breath hitch.

Hongjoong, for his part in all this, appears perfectly relaxed and comfortable, humming a tune under his breath as he carefully slides the now fully unlaced boot off his partner’s leg with a gentle kiss to the inside of his thigh — just above the knee — that makes Seonghwa’s heart flutter. He watches him set it aside and begin the process again on his other foot with a sort of awe; the urge to thank his beloved claws desperately at him, but any words for it are caught behind the tangled mess of emotion clogging his airway and hindering his ability to form them.

Yet again, Kim Hongjoong has effortlessly rendered him speechless.

I love him. Gods, I love him. If there is a stronger, more fitting word to describe my feelings for him, I don’t know its name. He treats me like I’m Divine and I don’t think I will ever truly wrap my head around it.

The sentiment settles into Seonghwa’s sternum with the grace of a feather, though its weight is far more profound. His vision blurs with unshed tears that he tries his best to keep from falling, but one blinks free anyway, slipping down his face and onto the pillow beneath him.

“Oh, darling,” coos Hongjoong as he wipes away the next few tears that spill from the quartermaster’s lashes unbidden with his thumbs. “What’s the matter, is something wrong?”

Seonghwa gives his beloved a watery smile and leans into the comforting touch of the other man’s warm hands on the sides of his face. “Nothing; just… thank you.” He meets Hongjoong’s eyes and hopes that his gaze conveys everything he wishes he could say, if only he could find the words.

Thank you for taking care of me like this; I know you insist that I needn’t be thankful to you, but how can I not? You’re the reason I’m even on this ship to begin with, the reason I’m free and no longer hiding beneath the mask of that uniform, so please accept my gratitude.

Hongjoong returns the smile with a soft yet knowing one of his own before he leans in to capture Seonghwa’s lips in a long, slow kiss that shows he understands exactly what his partner was trying to communicate.

“I love you,” the quartermaster whispers when they finally part for breath.

“And I you.” He climbs into bed beside Seonghwa properly, pulling the other man into his arms easily as he uses magic to douse the lamp with a flick of his wrist.

A comfortable silence settles over them for a long moment, the air filled with nothing but the sounds of their breathing; it’s familiar and cosy, and the quartermaster melts right into it with a soft sigh.

“Love?” Hongjoong calls eventually, voice soft. At Seonghwa’s sleepy hum in reply, he continues, equally soft, “Welcome home; it’s good to have you back where you belong.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “On the ship?”

“Yes — but, more than that, at my side. In my arms.” The quartermaster shifts slightly in his partner’s embrace to look up at him and press a kiss to Hongjoong’s cheek.

“I’m glad to be back,” he replies earnestly. His heart warms at the gentle smile he finds on his beloved’s face.

“The crew missed you while you were gone. Especially Sannie; he’s grown quite attached to you since the two of you met — though I doubt you needed me to point that out to you.”

It’s true; it hadn’t been all that subtle, in hindsight, but the quartermaster still caught on slower than perhaps he usually would. At first, the two of them had bonded over their respective hometowns and thus sharing a satoori; since then, San had spent a lot of time with Yeosang — and later Wooyoung as well, the three of them quickly becoming practically inseparable — which had led Seonghwa to assume it was the former Spymasters’ teasing that was the reason the navigator would seek him out more often.

But it wasn’t only when he needed reassurance or soothing that San would approach him.

He began to regularly drift to him on days where it was obvious that he missed Namhae particularly dearly, speaking in satoori and almost glowing with nostalgia when Seonghwa naturally responded in kind. Over time he grew comfortable enough with the quartermaster that it became a game of sorts for them — testing how much the other crew members could understand and even occasionally making up their own little words or phrases to amuse themselves and confuse everyone else.

Sannie is honestly much like a real brother to me, in many ways; we may not be blood-related, but sometimes it really feels as though we are.

“You’re right,” replies Seonghwa eventually. “He’s… well, something of a younger brother I never had.”

Hongjoong hums. “Sometimes I almost start to think he likes you more than me — and I practically raised him, the brat.” His tone is light and playful, making the quartermaster giggle.

“Well, they do like to joke that we’re their parents.”

“True,” the captain concedes. “They call you their mother, and sometimes I really see why; tonight, for example, with Sannie.”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. Part of him had been wondering when this would come up. Seonghwa takes in a deep breath and waits, heart in the pit of his stomach, for whatever his partner has to say next.

“It was sweet to watch,” continues Hongjoong. “He pouted through the entire meeting we had — not that it was a long one — after you sent him to me. I promised him I’d talk to you about it.”

“I… It was instinctual,” the quartermaster confesses in a tiny voice, and he swallows thickly before he speaks again. “Did I offend him…? I’ll apologise in the morning.”

Tears press at his eyes despite his efforts to force them away and he buries himself in the crook of his beloved’s neck in an attempt to both hide and comfort himself. Gods, I’m such a fool; I shouldn’t have been so careless.

“What? Baby, no.” The captain pulls his reluctant partner’s face out of his shoulder and gently tells him with a soft, endeared chuckle, “No, Seonghwa, he was delighted with the affection you showed him; a little upset at your dismissal, yes, but mostly confused by it.”

“Oh.” Seonghwa blinks owlishly as the words slowly sink in. “That’s… that’s a relief, then,” he mumbles rather dumbly, unsure of what else to say despite the word being a vast understatement for his feelings on the matter.

Ever patient with him, Hongjoong merely holds Seonghwa — hands cupping his face and thumbs drawing vague patterns across the skin — as the tightness in his chest gradually eases with every breath, an adoring and indulgent smile on his face.

No sooner does the quartermaster return to himself a few moments later than a self-conscious flush rises to his cheeks as he realises their position has changed slightly; he’s now settled comfortably between his partner’s legs as they lazily frame his hips, practically chest to chest on top of the other man. He isn’t a fool — he’s well aware that there’s no inherent ulterior motive to the way they’re loosely pressed together, but that hardly matters when both of them are as familiar with each other’s bodies as their own.

“Are you alright, love?” Hongjoong asks softly, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen into the quartermaster’s eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m fine; just… distracted.”

“Yeah?”

The mood between them has shifted, and Hongjoong’s other hand along with it, slipping under the hem of his loose sleep shirt to mindlessly trace the skin of his waist; it forces Seonghwa’s breath to hitch slightly at the warmth of his beloved’s palm. Gods, how is it that even the simplest touch from him still threatens to unravel me even after a year’s time? I don’t understand it.

“Hongjoong…” His voice is breathy, and truthfully he doesn’t even know what he was intending to say.

It doesn’t matter, anyway; not with the hand on his face moving to guide him down by the nape of his neck into a languid kiss that renders him completely boneless as soon as their mouths connect.

A hum of satisfaction — or perhaps approval — leaves his partner’s throat, an all-too-familiar sound that immediately makes Seonghwa’s lips part in a soft gasp as it floods through his body, giving Hongjoong the perfect opportunity to brush their tongues against each other.

There’s no urgency to it; no insistence. Rather, the captain is completely unhurried, as though savouring the way his beloved tastes is the only thing that matters to him — as if Seonghwa is all that matters.

And that makes the quartermaster’s mind feel a little blurry at the edges.

He can’t help but sigh into Hongjoong’s mouth the next time their lips meet, contentedly melting even further into the lazy, timeless little moment they’ve created for themselves. It’s peaceful — other than the slide of their lips and their breaths coming a little shorter, the only sounds in the captain’s quarters are the occasional creaking of wood and, faintly, waves crashing against the ship.

Seonghwa doesn’t question it when the hand on his waist shifts over to the other side; he simply follows Hongjoong’s lead as the other man leans forward slightly and rolls them over to gently ease Seonghwa onto his back, wrapping his arms around the other man’s shoulders to keep him close.

“We should sleep,” murmurs Hongjoong between kisses, though neither of them make any attempt to rearrange themselves more suitably.

If anything, the captain’s actions give the impression that sleep is the furthest thing from his mind as he drags his nose up along Seonghwa’s jawline — humming again when his partner naturally tilts his head back against the pillow — and presses soft kisses over the same stretch of skin in the opposite direction, drawing a light shiver from the man beneath him.

“But before then, there’s one last thing I feel the need to do; will you indulge me, my Star?”

His voice is barely more than a pleasant rumble against Seonghwa’s skin, one that feels like it echoes through his mind as he speaks, despite the fact that he knows such things are not within the capabilities of Hongjoong’s magic.

“What do you have in mind?” he asks, eyes falling closed. I think I know his answer, but he always insists that I ask anyway to be certain; “a good habit”, he tells me.

A small nip right next to one of the many fading bruises on his neck confirms his suspicions even before his beloved speaks. “These parting gifts I sent you off with are so faint now; I’ll have to give you more to compensate, as a “welcome home” gift this time.”

Seonghwa can’t help but laugh softly as he teases, “Is there even room for such “gifts”?”

“I can think of a few places; here, for example.” Hongjoong plants an almost reverent kiss at the front and centre of his neck — the same place he left that very first mark so long ago. “Or perhaps here.” Another, equally patient press of lips against his throat, this time somewhat closer to Seonghwa’s left shoulder.

“Point taken,” he concedes after a few more of these, a little breathless. His partner smiles into his skin, satisfied with his victory and Seonghwa sighs in fond exasperation. “Go on then, do your worst.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll save spoiling you properly for tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ve thought of the perfect place.”

Without any further preamble, Hongjoong scatters kisses across the line of Seonghwa’s throat until he reaches the spot that’s always been his weakest, making Seonghwa gasp softly when he feels teeth sinking into the skin and shiver at the gentle sucking that follows. There’s no way Hongjoong is oblivious to his partner’s heart beating madly — he’s surely able to feel it under both his chest and his mouth — as he alternates between the two until he’s satisfied, licking over it as if to seal his efforts in place.

There’s no sense in hoping it’s not too obvious by morning; I’m sure it already looks quite intense. He sighs to himself. Wooyoung is going to make fun of me all day, I know it.

When he opens his eyes and lowers his head, he finds his beloved staring right back at him with open adoration on his face; it’s not an unfamiliar look to him, or at least it shouldn’t be, but something about it still makes his heart flutter.

“You’re staring,” he mumbles after a beat of silence. Hongjoong chuckles softly, the sound mostly just a puff of air.

“Is it so wrong of me to admire the love of my life? You’re beautiful, Hwa.”

Those words — that title, “love of my life” — make his breath hitch. There’s something in the ease with which his partner calls him such things that never fails to unravel him a little bit.

Cheeks flushing, he rolls his eyes and unwraps one arm from Hongjoong’s neck to lightly slap him. “Don’t lie,” he grumbles playfully. “You’re admiring your handiwork.”

“Maybe,” replies the captain with a mischeivous grin. “But I stand by what I said: you are beautiful.” He leans forward and rests his forehead against his beloved’s as he softly adds, “And I will use my dying breath to tell you so, if I must.”

Seonghwa smiles and says, “I know — you never let me forget.”

For a few moments the two of them stay like that — eyes closed and merely soaking up the comfort of each other’s presence, enveloped in a peaceful quietude. Truthfully, the quartermaster almost falls asleep like that.

Hongjoong hums affectionately at him as he carefully rearranges them into an embrace better suited to exactly that, tangling their legs together beneath the sheets like always. Once they’re settled, Seonghwa sighs contentedly and asks, “Sing for me?”

“Hm?”

“You were humming to yourself earlier; it’s relaxing, I’d like to hear more if you don’t mind.”

“Anything for you, my Star, you know that.” The tune he chooses is one of his partner’s favourites — an intentional detail, no doubt, and one that makes the quartermaster smile.

Seonghwa doesn’t thank him in words, merely connects their lips in a chaste kiss.

Then he leaves another one at the corner of Hongjoong’s gently sloped lips before shifting slightly and angling his head to bite gently at the nearest spot just beneath his jaw, trying to hold back a small smirk.

“Shouldn’t we be trying to sleep?” Hongjoong teases affectionately.

“You do this to me all the time; it’s only fair.”

“I suppose so.” His fond amusement is blatantly obvious in his voice which makes the quartermaster roll his eyes again.

Another comfortable silence settles over them, and in it Seonghwa allows his mind to wander, drawing nonsensical patterns over the fabric of Hongjoong’s shirt.

He finds himself comparing this moment to the future he once envisioned for himself. Not out of regret for the life he leads instead — he could never — but rather marvelling at the deviation of his fate.

In his past, the idea of sharing his bed with another felt like nothing more than a far-fetched daydream to him; even when he entertained the thought, Seonghwa had always expected that it would be a woman by his side. He huffs a soft laugh to himself at the humour of the assumption in hindsight.

So much has changed in such a short time; it almost feels like a dream. A small part of him still sometimes believes it might be, to tell the truth.

But it isn’t.

Wrapped up in Hongjoong’s arms like this, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath his fingertips and listening to its echo in his ear, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that when the sun rises and he wakes up, his partner will be exactly where he promised he would be: right here.

“Something on your mind, love?”

“Just… my life has been turned on its head,” the quartermaster replies honestly. “For the better, of course, but sometimes it just… strikes me, all of a sudden, how different things are now.”

Hongjoong hums sympathetically and cards a lazy hand through his partner’s hair as he asks, “Do you miss how they were before?”

“Not really, no. If anything I feel… more myself now than I ever have.”

“That makes sense; it shows in the way you shine, too — you always have, to me, but now it’s even brighter.”

Seonghwa is grateful for the darkness of the room as his face heats up at the compliment; not that it’s unusual, of course — the other man compares him to a star on a daily basis after all — but it still flusters him nonetheless.

In the hush that follows, he murmurs against his partner’s skin, “I’m so grateful that I met you.”

Hongjoong melts at the honest affirmation and the quartermaster smiles, relieved that he heard him; there’s so much more that he would say if not for his lack of energy to even form the words in his mind, but in the meantime, this will have to suffice.

His beloved pulls him impossibly further into his embrace and presses a kiss to the crown of his head as though equally overwhelmed and incapable of replying in words. There’s no need, anyway — that gesture tells him everything he needs to know.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Seonghwa finally allows himself to yield to the lingering exhaustion that has been pawing at him since he woke up from his earlier unintentional slumber; his smile only grows as sleep easily pulls him under once more.