guys my age | yuta/taeyong

is this love or lust (or some game on repeat)?

For some reason, this week is hard to get through. Taeyong watches his roses, watches his phone for text messages and calls. He tries not to show how anxious he is to see Yuta again, how desperate, but it's hard. It's hard to focus on anything at all, really. At least he and Jaehyun are on better terms now—work is no longer so awkward around him.

It's just as Yuta said—the roses are only just beginning to wilt, petals not even brown yet, when Friday evening arrives. He leaves them on his kitchen counter as he all but runs out the door when he sees Yuta's text light up his phone.

"Missed you," Taeyong breathes out as soon as the door's shut, leaning in for a kiss and fumbling with his seatbelt at the same time.

Yuta kisses him back sweetly, and then nudges him away. "I gotta drive," he says, laughing. Once they're on their way, though, he takes Taeyong's hand in his. It starts nice and innocent—just hands on hands, and then Taeyong begins to press soft kisses to Yuta's knuckles and his palms. Yuta gives him a sort of appraising, sideways look, and Taeyong just looks back, big eyes pleading.

By the time they're on Yuta's street, Taeyong is gagging happily around two of his fingers. Yuta murmurs praise, coaxing his fingers out once the car is safely in park. He wipes them off on his hip, popping the door open with his free hand.

"I guess dinner can wait," he says with a wicked grin. "C'mon."

Taeyong is buzzing as he follows Yuta into the house. Yuta lifts him into his arms—how is he so strong, seriously?—and kisses him breathless as he carries him into the living room.

Yuta deposits him on the couch, still kissing him. Taeyong undoes Yuta's pretty patterned shirt with clumsy fingers. It's not necessary, but he wants to see him, and he figures it'll be more comfortable anyway. Yuta is working on his jeans blindly. It's messy and a little awkward but Taeyong doesn't care, because Yuta is here and kissing him like this, so none of it really matters.

"Hang on," Yuta says after a moment. "We need lube." He stands, tapping the waistband of Taeyong's underwear. "Get these off while I grab it, yeah?"

"Mm-mm," Taeyong says, shaking his head as he squirms out of his underwear. "Already prepped myself at home."

Yuta blinks, bending down to see a simple plug, flat end pressed flush to Taeyong's rim. "Jesus, baby," he says softly, pushing it and humming when Taeyong cries out. "No wonder you were so needy in the car. Thought it was just 'cuz you missed me."

"I did miss you," Taeyong says. "That's why—" He gestures. "Please."

Yuta is already on top of him, pushing one of his legs off the edge of the couch to give him more room between his thighs. "Got so goddamn lucky with you, didn't I?" he murmurs. He brings his hand up below Taeyong's chin. "Spit, honey." Taeyong does as he's told, moaning softly when Yuta leans close to give him a quick kiss on the temple. "Good boy," he says, adding, "My good boy."

Yuta has the plug out a couple seconds later, and then he's pressing into Taeyong slowly, holding him in place by his hips. "Daddy," Taeyong stutters out. "Yes, daddy."

"Didn't spend nearly enough time together last weekend, did we?" Yuta asks, rolling his hips again and again. "My fault, as usual," he continues, before Taeyong can even open his mouth. "I'll make up for it as best I can, okay?"

"Mmkay," Taeyong sighs, linking his hands behind Yuta's neck and gazing up at him, starry-eyed as he picks up the pace. The top of his head is bumping against the arm of the couch, but he hardly feels it. Yuta's in between dye cycles now—his roots are a sort of awkward light caramel color. It's a little odd, but something about it is endearing to Taeyong. He's trimmed his bangs, too; they hardly brush his eyebrows. He looks younger in this light, like some kind of rock singer, rising in fame, right in his prime.