we'll never get to heaven

He kissed him.

Yeosang took a step forward and in less than a second Seonghwa's back bounced on the soft mattress he was feeling behind his knees.

He was on top of him now. Lips swollen and of a lovely reddish color due to the excessive kissing and biting, hair tickling the other's cheeks, eyes dark and glittery.

Their shirts were long gone. They don't even remember if said T-shirts had made it inside the hotel room. Good thing those were old, cheap shirts.

There was a mirror on the wardrobe's door. Seonghwa turned his head to the left and he caught the reflection of their bodies.

Yeosang was looking at him. Predatory, but still careful. Gentle and daring. The chocolate strands of hair blocked the view of Yeosang's eyes in the mirror, but Seonghwa knew that look.

Yeosang was as needy as a child, but he also knew how to be patient. He was respectful and kind. He was gentle.

In that mirror, it almost looked like love.

Then Seonghwa felt a cold bite on his earlobe, and he was back to reality.

Yeosang, in his entire shirtless beauty was straddling him.

Grabbing the belt of the other's jeans, Seonghwa pulled him closer.

The heat their bodies radiated felt both intoxicating and suffocating.

Seonghwa took Yeosang's lips between his and bit softly. Yeosang sighed.

"You're so handsome. I can't believe it. Are you real or are you an angel or something?" Seonghwa breathed, when their lips parted.

Yeosang laughed softly at the compliment, then he gently caressed Seonghwa's cheek.

"I'm no angel, but I'm pretty sure you're an incubus or something like that," his sentence ended with a scoff. Seonghwa smiled as well.

"Why? Were you so pure before meeting me?" the older asked, flirtatiously.

"Are we really here to talk about how I behaved before meeting you?" Yeosang inquired, licking his lips.

Yeah, he was right. Seonghwa didn't care about what Yeosang was like before that night at the club. They weren't a couple. He had no right to care. Or, maybe, that conversation was made for another moment.

"You're right," Seonghwa smiled softly on Yeosang's lips. The older knew he could make Yeosang go insane when he did that.

And, indeed, Yeosang immediately started kissing him. His kisses were merciless, ravenous, and Seonghwa was nothing but happy to get such treatment.

His hands promptly started unbuckling Yeosang's belt, while the younger's fingers were avidly grabbing Seonghwa's waist, his nails blissfully scratching the skin underneath.

Then Yeosang's mouth moved onto Seonghwa's neck.

Kisses, bites, licks, Seonghwa took it all, wanted it all. He was eager, moaning like a teenager and arching his back whenever Yeosang's teeth dug onto his thin skin.

Seonghwa knew it, he felt it, Yeosang was leaving marks on his delicate skin. But those marks were just lies painted on his body. And those lies would stay. Those were the type of lies that he knew so well would've painted his body for some time. Three to five days, depending on how much Yeosang had missed him before deciding to mark him that way. The only reason he let him do what he wanted was he liked it when Yeosang took control.

And while Yeonsag was making Seonghwha his, the latter was thinking. He thought about how much he could have loved Yeosang in another circumstance. In another time and in another place.

While his neck burned, Seonghwha imagined what he and Yeosang could have been. Maybe.

They were bound, bound with a red tie they could not break.

But Seonghwa was afraid; afraid of the daylight, because the slit between the badly closed curtains burned, felt like a blade cutting in his heart. As the sun hits his face in the morning, it slaps him with the truth, which makes his eyes burn and makes him remember Yeosang is not actually his.

He felt Yeosang's fingers delicately tracing his side until they reached the belt that kept his pants tied to his hips. The brunette had done it so many times before, he's become good at unbuckling that belt before Seonghwa could even realize.

And now that both of their belts and jeans were undone and Yeosang's fingertips lingered on the fabric of Seonghwa's underwear, the older forced his mind to dive back into that sort of fake dream.

The way Yeosang licked his lower lip in anticipation, and their well-practised confidence in undressing each other... none of this felt like love. It felt like an illusion, a badly made substitute of feelings that they know don't have to be there.

Yeosang kissed him again, and his kisses made Seonghwa feel so loved, as much as he's aware this is wrong, oh, so wrong. Yeosang kissed him again and again, until they both lost track of time and almost forgot what they were about to do and the actual reason they were there in the first place.

Yeosang's lips tasted like bad decisions, they were warm and delusional. Seonghwa dug his fingers in the younger's soft hair. He'd never stop thinking Yeosang might actually be an angel or something alike. He was soft and graceful in everything he did and in every curve and edge of his body. And he looked so ethereal and sublime, Seonghwa often found himself touching Yeosang just to make sure the boy sitting on his lap was actually real.

Yeosang was Seonghwa's polar opposite, and the older would never stop believing all of this was definitely too good to be true.

But Yeosang's hair was there, tickling his fingers as the younger started peppering quick and burning kisses on Seonghwa's chest. He began heading lower, never stopping showering Seonghwa in kisses and lovely bites. Those soft chocolate strands were taken away from Seonghwa's touch and, before he let his head rest on the bed, he shortly glimpsed old scratches that had still not fully healed on Yeosang's back.

The older took one second of their seemingly eternal time to caress Yeosang's cheek, before letting him freely take over his body again.

Seonghwa's hazel eyes glanced one last time at the mirror on his left.

It almost looked like love.