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Thailand was everything Luke hadn’t realised he desperately needed.
The air was warm and heavy with the scent of salt and blooming flowers, the ocean humming in the background like a heartbeat. Their semi-private villa sat just a few steps from the shoreline, complete with its own amazing pool, sun-drenched deck, and soft white curtains that fluttered whenever the breeze drifted through. It was paradise in every sense… quiet, intimate and removed from everything that hurt.
Luke felt like he could actually breathe here.
He and Young spent their days shirtless, wandering between the bed and the pool and the beach with no real plan except existing together. Mornings started slow with Young waking Luke with lazy kisses along his jaw, Luke pretending to still be asleep just so Young would keep going. They would eat fresh fruit on the deck, drink iced coffees, feed each other mango sticky rice, and laugh about how spoiled they were.
And then, eventually, the sun would climb high and they’d end up tangled together somewhere. Either on the loungers, in the water, or sprawled on the cool sheets with nothing but the sound of waves outside.
Luke was healing. Not just physically, but emotionally too. Every day felt like a little piece of him stitching itself back together. He still flinched sometimes when Young’s hand brushed certain parts of him. Still hesitated before taking his shirt off, still worried about what Young truly saw when he looked at him. But… he let Young touch him again. Slowly. Carefully.
At first it was just Young’s palms on Luke’s waist, the familiar warmth grounding him. Then his fingertips tracing the faint, pale lines of Luke’s top surgery scars, featherlight and reverent, like he was touching something sacred. Young always asked with his eyes before he touched more.
“Here?” he’d murmur, waiting.
Luke would nod, small and shy, and Young would smile like it was Christmas morning.
By the third day, Luke found himself reaching for Young instead of freezing up. Offering his body rather than guarding it. Letting Young kiss across his chest, over skin he’d once sworn no one would ever see. And each time, the panic ebbed a little more. Each time, he believed Young’s whispered “you’re perfect” a little more.
Paradise didn’t fix everything, but it softened the sharp edges. Made Luke feel wanted. Made him feel safe. Made him feel like himself again, the version of Luke who allowed love to touch him without fear. They still hadn’t had sex, but Luke was mentally working his way towards it. And with every kiss, every gentle graze of hands, every breathless laugh they shared under the Thai sun, Luke became more certain than ever: This was where he belonged. With Young. Always.
On the fifth night, Luke and Youngjae walked barefoot along the shoreline. Their hands swung between them, fingers tangled, knuckles brushing with every step. The waves lapped lazily at their ankles, glowing faintly blue with bioluminescence.
They spotted a bar tucked just off the beach which had bamboo walls, lanterns dangling from the ceiling, and soft tropical music drifting out into the night.
Young nudged him playfully. “We should go in.”
“We definitely should.”
“Wanna dance, husband?”
Luke grinned. “Obviously.”
Inside, the bar was alive with colour. Fairy lights hung everywhere, warm and golden; the air smelled like lime, rum, and sunscreen. They ordered cocktails (something fruity for Luke, something strong and stupid for Young) and let themselves be pulled into the small crowd of people dancing barefoot on the sand-scattered floor.
Young spun Luke once, and Luke laughed so loudly he surprised himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this carefree.
At some point, while Luke was catching his breath at the bar, a gorgeous woman drifted over. She was tall and glowing, dressed in a shimmering gold dress that curved beautifully over her body. Her voice was low and melodic when she asked where Luke was visiting from. Luke answered, stumbling a little over his words because… god, she was stunning.
They chatted for a while about Boston, about Thai food and about the beaches. Then Young returned with fresh drinks and joined the conversation. And it didn’t take long before they all realised that the woman, Aom, was a ladyboy. But she wasn’t shy. Not even a little.
She spoke openly about her transition, laughed loudly, tossed her hair with effortless confidence. When Young complimented her dress, she winked and said, “Thank you, darling. If you want one for your pretty husband, I tell you where to buy.”
Luke snorted out a laugh, and then froze.
Pretty husband.
Aom had said it so casually. So easily. Not as a joke. Not as something confusing or pointed. Just… truth. Effortless truth.
And Luke realised painfully that he wanted to feel that way about himself. He wanted to glow. He wanted to take up space. He wanted to love the skin he lived in instead of constantly fighting with it. He wanted what Aom radiated with every goddamn breath.
Pride.
Joy.
Comfort in who she was.
Something inside Luke cracked open like a shell giving way to something softer underneath. He looked at her and all her confidence and beauty.
I want that. I want to feel that at home in my body. I want to stop apologising for existing.
Young must have sensed the shift because he brushed his hand against Luke’s lower back and murmured, “Yeobo. You okay?”
Luke nodded. “Yeah. I just… she’s incredible.”
Aom smirked playfully. “Don’t stare too hard, sweetheart. Your husband might get jealous.”
Luke flushed scarlet.
Young wrapped an arm around Luke’s waist, pulling him close in a way that made Luke feel safe and wanted and alive. “Nah,” he said softly. “He’s allowed to admire anyone he wants. Especially someone this confident.”
Luke’s chest tightened.
Confidence.
He wanted that.
The walk back to their villa after that was slow and quiet. The air smelled like salt and jasmine; the sand stuck to their feet; Young kept brushing their shoulders together like he couldn’t help it.
Luke couldn’t stop replaying Aom in his mind. He kept thinking about her confidence, her joy, and the way she took up space like she was allowed to.
You’re allowed to take up space too, something inside him whispered. And for the first time since his wedding night, he actually believed it.
By the time they slipped through the gate of their semi-private villa, Luke felt charged. Not nervous. Not insecure. Just… ready. Hungry in a way he hadn’t felt since before the wedding. He stepped into the soft golden light of their room, the bed still unmade from that morning. When Young returned from locking the door, Luke moved quickly. He cupped Young’s face in both hands and kissed him. It wasn’t timid. It wasn’t apologetic. It was hot and sure. Luke’s body pressed against Young’s with intent.
Young froze for half a second in surprise, then melted into it, hands finding Luke’s waist. “Mm,” he murmured against Luke’s mouth, smiling into the kiss. “Someone missed me.”
Luke nipped at his bottom lip. “Maybe I did.”
Young laughed softly. “You’re in a mood.”
Luke pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes . “I am,” he whispered, heart hammering, “And I want you.”
Young’s breath stuttered. “Yeah? I mean… you don’t have to force yourself because of—”
“I’m not forcing anything,” Luke interrupted, voice firmer than he expected. “I want this. I want you. I miss you. I wanna be close to you again. It’s our honeymoon. We should be fucking all day like rabbits. I want that. I want you.”
Young swallowed hard, searching Luke’s face like he needed to be absolutely sure. Luke held that gaze, steady and certain.
He tugged gently at Young’s shirt. “Please?”
That single word seemed to break whatever restraint Young had been clinging to. He kissed Luke again, deeper this time, walking him backward toward the bed until the back of Luke’s knees hit the mattress. Luke sat down, looking up at his husband with flushed cheeks and blown pupils.
Young brushed Luke’s fringe aside. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
Luke felt heat shoot through him. “I want to feel close to you again.”
Young’s expression softened. It was hungry, but it was still tender. “Yeah?”
Luke nodded, fingers slipping under the hem of Young’s shirt. “Let me.”
Young lifted his arms and Luke pulled the shirt off him, kissing the centre of his chest, then lower, then back up again. His hands were steady. His breath wasn’t shaking. For the first time since the wedding, he didn’t flinch at the idea of being seen.
“Your turn,” Young murmured softly, fingers brushing the hem of Luke’s linen shirt.
Luke nodded quickly and let Young lift his shirt over his head with the same care he’d use handling something fragile and precious.
Luke sucked in a small breath, chest bare and faint scars glowing softly from the tan he’d picked up in Thailand. Young stared. Not with pity. Not with worry. With awe.
“I still can’t get over it,” Young murmured.
“Get over what?”
“How gorgeous you are,” he whispered, voice thick.
Luke’s throat tightened. He reached up, pulling Young down into another kiss, and this time Luke was the one to guide them flat onto the bed. Their bodies slid naturally together, legs tangling, skin meeting skin.
Luke kissed down Young’s throat, along his collarbone. “I love you,” he murmured against warm skin.
Young’s hands tightened on him, almost shaking. “God, Luke… I love you so much.”
“Take my clothes off,” Luke whispered.
Young did. With great care, he removed Luke’s shorts but hesitated when he got to Luke’s underwear.
“Take it off,” Luke encouraged.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Luke said firmly.
Young grinned and nodded, slowly tugging down Luke’s underwear. Luke’s initial reaction was to press his legs together, but then he felt Young kiss his knees and softly caress his thighs. A soft sigh escaped Luke’s lips before his legs fell open. Youngjae didn’t even try to hide his hungry stare and Luke didn’t have time to feel insecure about it all before his husband lunged forward and buried his face in the heat between Luke’s legs.
“Oh, fuck,” Luke panted, back arching. His hands shot out and grasped Young’s hair, pulling lightly at the strands.
Young hummed as he continued to kiss, nip and lick at Luke. When they had first done this, Luke had been terrified. Absolutely terrified. He didn’t want Young’s hand anywhere near his female parts, nevermind his face. But fuck…it felt good. Youngjae was devouring him down there like he was starving. Like he hadn’t had a meal in weeks. Luke squirmed and panted and made embarrassing noises, but he was enjoying it. That was the main thing. He was enjoying it and, oh no, he was about to come.
“Stop stop stop!” he pleaded.
Youngjae quickly pulled back and grinned up at Luke. “Already?” he teased.
“It’s been a while,” Luke flushed, cheeks red.
“God, I missed you,” Young murmured, kissing up Luke’s body. He kissed Luke’s flat stomach, kissed his surgery scars, sucked at his collarbones and then finally landed his mouth on Luke’s.
“Gross,” Luke said like always.
“Takes fucking heavenly,” Youngjae grinned.
“Shut up,” Luke smacked his arm. “Just fuck me.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Juseyo…” Luke whispered. “Hae Juseyo.”
Youngjae froze. Not because he didn’t want it. God, he wanted it so badly he felt dizzy. But because Luke saying please in Korean, in that tiny, breathless whisper, with his cheeks flushed and his legs spread for him… it hit Young somewhere deep and soft and absolutely undone.
“Fuck,” he breathed, forehead dropping to Luke’s, their noses brushing. “Oh fuck… say it again.”
Luke’s fingers curled in the back of Young’s hair. “Hae juseyo,” he whispered, lips almost touching Young’s. “Please.”
A shaky laugh escaped Youngjae, half wrecked and half reverent. “You’re gonna kill me.”
He kissed Luke again, slow and hot, tasting desperation and closeness and the weeks of doubt Luke had been fighting. His hands slid down Luke’s sides until he reached his hips, lifting them gently so he could settle between Luke’s legs.
Luke shivered. “Youngjae…”
“Tell me to stop,” Young murmured against his jaw. “If anything feels wrong.”
“It won’t,” Luke said, surprisingly steady.
Young swallowed, cupping Luke’s thigh with one hand, guiding himself with the other. “Okay. I’ve got you.”
He pushed in slowly, so slowly Luke could feel every inch, every stretch, every warm, grounding moment of being opened again after so long.
Luke gasped and clutched Young’s shoulders. “Fuck, Young—”
“Shh, baby, I’m here,” Young said, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his temple. “You feel perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Luke whimpered, legs tightening around Young’s waist. “Move.”
Young groaned a deep, guttural sound in his throat and began to rock into him in slow, deliberate strokes, his forehead pressed to Luke’s like he couldn’t bear to be even a centimetre away.
Luke loudly moaned openly now, no shame, no hesitation. “God, Young, please don’t stop…”
“Never,” Young panted, kissing him hard, his tongue invading Luke’s mouth. “Never gonna stop loving you. Never letting you go.”
Luke dragged him closer, chest pressed to chest, breath mingling. “It feels so good,” he whispered, like he was surprised by it. Like it was a miracle.
Young’s thrusts faltered into something warmer, more desperate. “You deserve to feel good,” he murmured against Luke’s lips. “Always.”
And Luke kissed him again, messy and eager, and so full of trust it nearly broke Youngjae in half.
It didn’t take long for Luke’s body to tighten beneath him, his breath stuttering as he reached the edge. Young knew the signs by now.
“Come for me,” Young whispered, voice trembling. “Come, baby.”
Luke choked out Young’s name as he orgasmed, shuddering hard, nails digging into Young’s back. The sight, the sound, the feel of Luke falling apart under him pushed Youngjae over the edge too and he buried his face in Luke’s neck, groaning as he came inside him. They stayed that way for a long time, tangled and trembling, breathing each other in.
Eventually Young kissed Luke’s shoulder, then his cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing back Luke’s damp hair.
Luke nodded slowly and shyly. He was glowing. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah. I’m okay. God, i’m more than okay. That was insane.”
“Right?” Youngjae barked out a laugh.
“Jesus. I… I feel like me again.”
Young rested his forehead to Luke’s. “I’m so proud of you.”
Luke didn’t say anything right away. He cupped Young’s cheeks, guiding him into another kiss. This one soft and lingering, almost sleepy. “Salanghaeyo,” Luke murmured.
Young smiled, eyes warm and unbelievably tender. “Salanghaeyo. So much.”
Outside, the ocean waves rolled quietly. Inside, Luke felt whole… and maybe even more than before.
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