[#26] Inch By Inch
Title: Inch By Inch
Author: Anonymous
Prompt: #26
Pairing: Suho/Lay
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slice of life, domesticity
Length: 3678 words
Summary: Joonmyun doesn't think he's gained that much weight until a coworker makes a comment about his suit being "too small these days."
Warnings: Concerns of fatphobia, body worship, rimming.
Author’s note: joonmyeon’s name in chinese has a character (绵/mián) which can mean “soft.” i like to think yixing would call a chubby joonmyeon this as a nickname even more because of it. :-) i loved this prompt so so so much, omg. i hope i did it justice, prompter!! thanks to nutella abs and tarosexual for listening to me bubble about this for a while and for beta-ing.
Joonmyeon stands in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the back of his and Yixing’s shared closet, hands resting at his sides. His head cocks to the side slightly, brows furrowed while his eyes scan his suited form. He turns occasionally, to get a better view of the curvature of his plump buttocks, straining against the fabric of his poor, favorite slacks.
Facing the mirror full-on once again, he lifts a hand up to finger one of the buttons on his blazer, only just now realizing how stretched the thread holding the button in place had become. Joonmyeon sucks in a deep breath, holding it for a brief moment before releasing it and noting how his stomach struggles to free itself from the jacket’s tight constraints.
With another huff, he undos the buttons and slips the blazer off to toss it onto the bed behind him. He turns his attention to the buttons of his dress shirt, showing less signs of stress than the shirt itself. What Joonmyeon’d thought to be a comfortable fit proves to be less so, as he notes bits of skin visible through small openings between the buttoned parts.
However, in the realm of overflowing softness, his little muffin top seems to be the most jarring to him. His hands smooth over his love handles, giving them a squeeze here and there, while his lips curl downwards into a more apparent frown each time. Suddenly, he feels like he’s a foreign entity to his own body. His own physique is uncharted territory, for both himself and potentially his husband as well, and he doesn’t understand how he’s gotten to this point.
He’s heard of the common stereotype that married couples tend to let themselves go after settling down, but he never thought that would apply to him. Joonmyeon’s always considered himself healthy. Perhaps not the fittest guy in the world, but healthy enough all the same. Briefly, he wonders when exactly he became far too comfortable with being far too comfortable.
Joonmyeon smiles as he enters the break room first thing in the morning, breathing in the familiar scent of brewed coffee and fresh pastries. He rubs his hands together in excitement as he makes his way over to the free concessions, helping himself to a couple jelly-filled donuts and a piping hot cup of coffee.
Just as he’s in the process of emptying five packets of sugar into his beverage, one of his coworkers approaches him. “Morning, boss!”
Joonmyeon lifts his gaze up from his cup of coffee, offering Chanyeol a warm smile. “Morning, Park. Did you process those files I sent you yesterday?”
“Working on it, actually. I should be finished by noon. Whoa-” he pauses, breathing out a lighthearted chuckle. “You better go easy on that cup of diabetes.”
Joonmyeon offers Chanyeol a thoughtful hum as he reaches for the creamer, pouring it in without measure. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” he starts, reaching out to give his boss’ small, rotund stomach a gentle pat. It jiggles with each touch. “Your suit’s gotten a bit too small these days.”
Joonmyeon blinks as he watches Chanyeol’s large hand remove itself from his stomach when he impulsively sucks it in. Instead, his coworker’s hand grabs at one of the donuts Joonmyeon’d picked out for himself, taking it and beginning to stuff his grinning face with it as he wanders out of the break room.
He doesn’t respond to the other’s mouth-filled farewell, hand now resting protectively over his stomach where Chanyeol’d touched. He quietly abandons the second breakfast he’s made for himself, hurriedly slinking back to the safe confines of his office.
Perhaps it was the moment when his and Yixing’s shared diet changed from lavish, home-cooked meals to take-out and makeshift ramen meals, shared right from the pot. It was easier to have an excuse to fritter away his time in the kitchen when he’d had reasons to - wooing his boyfriend (at the time) with his cooking skills, taking advantage of their time off for their honeymoon. Returning to their respective jobs left little room for stability in their routine at home, and so began their love affair with convenience.
But it couldn’t have been just that, could it? Joonmyeon also takes into account that he’s lived alone before he moved in with Yixing initially, and always wore the same size. And it always fit him perfectly before this moment. Snug, but not as snug as Joonmyeon’s come to realize his attire is now. And Yixing - Yixing hasn’t gained any weight himself, has he? He thinks he would’ve noticed by now, if so.
Just as Joonmyeon decides it was a combination of rookie mistakes that’s led up to this point - poor diet, poor portioning, lack of exercise compared to Yixing’s own tasking career - he realizes that it’s been a while since he’s actually seen his husband without his clothes on.
And it’s been a while since Yixing’s seen Joonmyeon without his clothes on.
Now, Joonmyeon wonders if that’s because his husband’s much more perceptive than him. After all, he is the one who has to look at him when they make love. Perhaps Yixing’s already noticed his weight gain, and that’s why they haven’t bothered with carnal relations.
Perhaps Yixing isn’t attracted to him anymore.
He wrings his wrists in slight panic at this realization before occupying himself with fiddling with his wedding band. Joonmyeon’s eyes meet his own in the mirror for a long moment before they rest on the golden ring nestled between his thumb and forefinger. He taps at it idly, finding the action more of a test to make sure it’s actually real rather than a soothing impulse.
As much as he hates to think Yixing has such a shallow mindset, he doesn’t think he’d blame him. How can he expect his husband to still love something so drastically different than what he signed up for?
Drastically different in Joonmyeon’s eyes, that is.
Just as he’s deliberating his marriage’s fate, he hears the lock to the front door click. He straightens up slowly, in time with the loud creaking of the rusted hinges, and flinches slightly when the intruder allows the heavy metal frame to slam shut.
“I’m home!” Yixing calls, and Joonmyeon doesn’t answer. After finally looking at himself - really, truly looking - he decides that he can’t face the other anymore. Not willingly. Usually, when the other arrived home, he’d rush to greet him with a bounce in his step. It was always as if their honeymoon phase was still in full swing.
Now, all Joonmyeon can even think about is how his pudge would jiggle with said bounce in his step; how every door frame and hallway seems too narrow to navigate through.
When Yixing doesn’t get the answer he’s expecting, however, he takes it upon himself to search for his husband. “Myeon?” The Chinese man smiles when he nudges the door to his and his husband’s bedroom open, only to be greeted with the other standing across the room. “There you are.”
Joonmyeon initially doesn’t have the courage to look in the other’s direction, but he can’t help meeting his eyes through the mirror. He feels he owes him that much. He feels guilty for a lot of things, but mostly for hearing his husband’s familiar sweet coo at the moment he feels most undeserving of it.
“Is something wrong?” Yixing asks, beginning to remove his work attire. This isn’t the question Joonmyeon expected. “You seem really out of it today. How come you didn’t answer me earlier?”
“Yixing… do you notice anything different? About… me?”
“What?” Yixing blinks, brow arching slightly as he steps up behind Joonmyeon to stare into the mirror alongside him. He takes a moment to eye Joonmyeon from head to toe, and Joonmyeon watches as his husband’s expression changes from confusion to concern.
He lowers his head in shame, preparing for a good verbal hiding.
Yixing, on the other hand, offers his husband a rather wry smile through the mirror. “Oh. Did you get a haircut or something? That’s it, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I’ve never been good at noticing things like that-”
Joonmyeon lifts his eyes back up to the mirror, jaw now slack in awe from the other’s dodging of what should’ve been the obvious topic of discussion. “No. That’s not it.”
“-and your hair’s always short, so-” Yixing finally pauses, posture stiffening before he lets out a chuckle laced with relief. “Oh. Oh! I know, you dyed your hair! It looks-”
“Yixing, do you never look at me? Yes, I got it dyed, but not recently. It’s been the same shade of chestnut brown for a while, now.” He sucks in a deep breath, turning to face his husband boldly, despite not having the courage to meet his gaze. “But I’m not talking about my hair. If that’s taken you this long to notice, then I know for sure that you know about my weight gain. It’s why you won’t really look at me, right? I repulse you, don’t I?”
Yixing falls silent, his expression falling as well. He stares down his husband in utter shock, the uncharacteristic outburst catching him completely off-guard. The Chinese man couldn’t remember a time when he and his husband fought. Sure, they’d had disagreements here and there, but the two were always so passive that they’d settle it sooner than it began. And Yixing always admired that about their relationship; about Joonmyeon.
Right now, however, was the only different side of his husband he can recall encountering. “Why would you think that you repulse me? Myeon, I- I’m sorry-”
“How come you didn’t tell me?” Joonmyeon finally looks up at Yixing, brows knotting together as his eyes rapidly blink away tears threatening to fall. He didn’t intend to fall apart like this, but, to him, this instance puts their whole marriage into perspective. How could he not fall apart if his marriage was going to as well? “How come you didn’t tell me I looked like… this.”
Yixing intended to give Joonmyeon the space he seemed to need, but seeing those glassy eyes causes him to lurch forward and immediately coil his arms around his husband. He holds the other close to his chest despite the other’s weak struggles, and only tightens his hold on Joonmyeon once he’s settled into weeping against his bare chest. He feels more defeated than ever upon feeling his husband’s hot tears splash against his skin, and he wants more than anything to console the other. “I didn’t tell you anything…” he starts carefully; slowly, “because I thought there was nothing to say.”
Joonmyeon’s lips part to respond, but only suck in a trembling breath.
“But, now, I think I was wrong. I should’ve said something.” His chest heaves along with an almost inaudible sigh. “If I’d said something, you wouldn’t be this way right now.”
This is it, Joonmyeon thinks. This is where Yixing scolds him for being so careless about his body; reprimands him for being so gluttonous.
“If- If I’d told you just how beautiful I think you are, every single day; every single night, then you wouldn’t be standing here in front of me, crying, thinking I found you even remotely ‘repulsive’ or unattractive.”
Just as the shorter male tries to revel in what he thought would be the last time his husband would so much as touch him, he thinks his heart stops.
“What?”
Yixing’s lips quirk into a small smile as he leans down just enough to nuzzle his nose against Joonmyeon’s head. Then his own nose, giving his head a little wiggle to rub the tips together.
The Korean male’s only half-fazed by Yixing’s behavior, honestly. “Stop,” he murmurs, thoroughly offended by the other’s cute actions. This was no time to be adorable, his heart was breaking.
“I meant what I said. And I’ll make up for it,” Yixing promises, angling his head just enough to press a sweet kiss to his husband’s lips. “I’ll make up for all the day’s I’ve forgotten to tell you. It’s been about a week, hasn’t it?”
“Yixing-”
“We’ll retrace our steps until we both can remember.” He smiles, a bit too warmly and blindingly for Joonmyeon’s heart to take. The latter eventually cracks a halfhearted smile in return, but it soon dissipates with his protesting of the other’s wandering hands. Yixing’s unbuttoning his shirt, now, and all the shorter can think is that he’ll see everything, then. He’ll see how his stomach rolls over the top of his slacks, then the dimples in his thighs when he removes them too.
The Chinese male is undeterred, however - he continues undressing his husband, now realizing that it’s been far too long since he’s had this luxury. Even then, however, Joonmyeon was still plump the last time he’d made love to him. And Yixing loved every single moment of it, just as he’d loved every moment of the first time he’d had the privilege of exploring the other’s body.
When he’s managed to get a fussing Joonmyeon’s briefs strewn across the room, he then begins to nudge the other towards his bed. His husband’s still grumbling about it with every excuse in the book - he’s cold, he’s not in the mood - but Yixing’s hands are so gently gripping his soft hips, lazily kneading the tender flesh as he lays him down onto the soft mattress.
“I love you,” Yixing murmurs as he crawls on top of the other, hovering over the huffing man beneath him. He doesn’t lean in just yet - from this angle, he can finally appreciate the masterpiece beneath him. From the front, at least. “I loved you from our very first date and onwards. I vowed to love you for the rest of my life when I married you.”
His lips crave to attach themselves somewhere, but his hands take priority as they continue to wander. They start at Joonmyeon’s knees before sliding their way up his plush thighs - pausing every now and then to give them a brief squeeze, flickering his tongue out to wet his lips as he watches his fingers sink into the extremely pliant flesh. Occasionally, he’ll give his hand a light shake to encourage his husband to part his legs for him, though he also indulges in the ulterior motive of watching Joonmyeon’s thighs jiggle lightly. And the sweet little groans of the man beneath him.
“I’ll always love you,” he hums, finally leaning in to slot his lips over the expanse of his husband’s neck to begin his journey downwards. “And I’ll always think you’re beautiful-” Joonmyeon’s back arches, and Yixing’s kisses cross the bridge of his chest, down to his plump tummy. His lips finally halt their expedition, taking their sweet time to suck bits of pliant flesh into his mouth in between sweet kisses and gentle nips. “-Whether you’re eighty pounds or eight-hundred pounds.”
Joonmyeon’s eyes have long since slipped shut, but that doesn’t stop tears from welling up in them again. He’s overwhelmed, honestly - Yixing tending to him so lovingly and telling him exactly what he thought he’d never hear makes him feel more guilty than ever for accusing him of feeling otherwise.
Yixing soothes his husband by continuing his past ministrations with his hands, still fondling the other’s thighs. His lips move on, however, away from the pinkened circles on his pale tummy to press kisses elsewhere - above and below his belly button; on both sides. “It’s so soft,” he sighs, lips now just barely grazing the other’s warm skin. “You’re so soft. As soft as cotton.”
Joonmyeon’s smiling now, his fingers tangling themselves in Yixing’s soft locks. He gives his husband’s scalp a gentle, fond scratch in between loving pets, allowing the other to continue re-mapping his body. It felt nice, now that he finally felt comfortable enough again to allow access to his body. It felt nice to feel like he rightfully belongs to Yixing again.
Yixing’s tongue finds a new use when he encounters several remnants of stretch marks. The muscle laves over the indentations lazily, tracing out both the faded and pinkened scarring from bottom to top. Yixing can’t help but admire the little valleys embedded into his lover’s body now that he’s gotten up close and personal with him, finding the additional adornments to be more symbolic of the comfort and acceptance shared between the two married men than anything else.
He’s edged onwards by his husband’s little mewls, legs parting even wider now without his urging, but, by now, Yixing’s got other ideas. “Roll over,” he instructs softly, smiling as he lifts himself up just enough to allow the other to move easily. He nudges at the other’s side when Joonmyeon shoots him a pointed look, helping him to maneuver himself around.
Once his husband’s backside is presented to him, all he can do is sigh out little coos of how absolutely lush he thinks the other looks. It takes all he has in him to keep himself from diving right in, and instead he places his hands atop the other’s hips once more. He gives Joonmyeon’s love handles a gentle squeeze, lifting his lower half up off of the mattress to help the other onto his knees. With his bum propped up nicely for him, Yixing allow himself to indulge.
His hands slide down to rest on either cheek of Joonmyeon’s ass, digging his fingers into his most prized part of the other’s body after giving it a firm smack. With both hands. He lets out a low, guttural groan as he continues toying with his husband’s plump bum, having initially been absolutely captivated by the way it jiggled with every touch of his. Joonmyeon’s sweet mewls and gasps and no, stop playing with it like it’s Jell-O, it’s not funny underneath him is almost an even better motive to continue.
But, by now, his mouth was salivating and craving more contact; more to devour with tender kisses and even more tender suckles. His hands cease their toying in favor of keeping the two little globes parted, fingers digging themselves deep into the plush surface. He grins at the sight presented to him before finally lowering himself face-level with his husband’s puckered entrance.
His tongue finds use again, but not after Yixing lavishes his most favorite body part of Joonmyeon’s in sloppy, wet smooches. He thinks the only thing more beautiful than his husband himself might be the giggles he’s trying to muffle with their comforter. And the only thing possibly more beautiful than that is the way he keens underneath him when his tongue prods at his budded ring of muscles. Yixing slacks his jaw in order to engulf as much of the other into his mouth as physically possible, teeth gently grazing over the sensitive orifice.
Joonmyeon only continues losing it the further Yixing’s tongue snakes its way inside of him. Despite the difficulty presented by his husband’s clenching muscle, he remains patient - hands working and toying with the other’s pliant cheeks. Sometimes, he’ll force them together against his own facial cheeks as he lurches himself forward to send his tongue deeper in its excavation, his head playfully shaking along with the movement.
Mostly, it’s just to make Joonmyeon squeal, however.
Other times, he’ll force the other’s cheeks far apart and allow himself to slip his tongue out of Joonmyeon and remove his lips with a soft, suction-y ‘pop.’ He’ll look at his work through hooded eyes, cheek nuzzling the other’s buttocks - his husband’s twitching asshole, incredibly slick and almost reddened from Yixing’s gentle nibbles - and then he’ll reattach his lips to continue right where he’d left off.
Eventually, Yixing represses the urge to inspect his work, and instead focuses himself at the task at hand. His tongue remains buried deep inside his counterpart, lazily slipping itself in and out at odd intervals. It doesn’t take long for the two to fall into a steady rhythm. He urges Joonmyeon forward occasionally whenever his tongue found refuge in its respective cavern, and then uses his grip on his husband’s ass to pull him back down onto his awaiting muscle.
Joonmyeon, in between his gasps and weak fidgeting, doesn’t fail to catch on. His hips work his bum down against Yixing’s face every now and again, losing himself in the ebb and flow of their synchronization. He thinks he sees stars when his husband’s tongue finds itself stroking at his trembling inner walls, but he sees galaxies when Yixing’s hand abandons one of his cheeks to find the other’s leaking length, giving it the most painful; playful toying Joonmyeon thinks he’s ever felt before finally tugging at it in slow, lazy strokes.
Joonmyeon comes with curled toes and head thrown back, and Yixing doesn’t relent his ministrations until he’s sure his lover’s completely spent.
When Yixing finally retracts his tongue, a thin string of saliva attaching his lips to the other’s glistening hole finally breaking when he returns to tending to Joonmyeon’s bum - giving it sweeter, more lingering kisses than the last time they’d visited. They expand their territorial range as his husband lowers his lower half down onto the mattress once more, taking one last moment to give his cheeks little bite indentations and pinkened marks until Joonmyeon rolls over onto his back. Yixing still finds himself nestled between his husband’s legs even long after he’d helped him clean up the mess he’d contributed to.
Joonmyeon’s fingers card themselves through Yixing’s hair while he watches the other fondly, Yixing suddenly seeming to be teething in the way he continuously gives his husband’s thighs gentle little nibbles. “I’m sorry that I ever doubted you.”
“I don’t mind too much,” Yixing mumbles, lips still wrapped around the squishy surface. He noses it a little before tilting his head back to look up towards his lover with a certain sparkle in his eyes. “Go ahead and forget again. And again. I wouldn’t mind reminding you a million times over, if we end up like this.”
Author: Anonymous
Prompt: #26
Pairing: Suho/Lay
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slice of life, domesticity
Length: 3678 words
Summary: Joonmyun doesn't think he's gained that much weight until a coworker makes a comment about his suit being "too small these days."
Warnings: Concerns of fatphobia, body worship, rimming.
Author’s note: joonmyeon’s name in chinese has a character (绵/mián) which can mean “soft.” i like to think yixing would call a chubby joonmyeon this as a nickname even more because of it. :-) i loved this prompt so so so much, omg. i hope i did it justice, prompter!! thanks to nutella abs and tarosexual for listening to me bubble about this for a while and for beta-ing.
Joonmyeon stands in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the back of his and Yixing’s shared closet, hands resting at his sides. His head cocks to the side slightly, brows furrowed while his eyes scan his suited form. He turns occasionally, to get a better view of the curvature of his plump buttocks, straining against the fabric of his poor, favorite slacks.
Facing the mirror full-on once again, he lifts a hand up to finger one of the buttons on his blazer, only just now realizing how stretched the thread holding the button in place had become. Joonmyeon sucks in a deep breath, holding it for a brief moment before releasing it and noting how his stomach struggles to free itself from the jacket’s tight constraints.
With another huff, he undos the buttons and slips the blazer off to toss it onto the bed behind him. He turns his attention to the buttons of his dress shirt, showing less signs of stress than the shirt itself. What Joonmyeon’d thought to be a comfortable fit proves to be less so, as he notes bits of skin visible through small openings between the buttoned parts.
However, in the realm of overflowing softness, his little muffin top seems to be the most jarring to him. His hands smooth over his love handles, giving them a squeeze here and there, while his lips curl downwards into a more apparent frown each time. Suddenly, he feels like he’s a foreign entity to his own body. His own physique is uncharted territory, for both himself and potentially his husband as well, and he doesn’t understand how he’s gotten to this point.
He’s heard of the common stereotype that married couples tend to let themselves go after settling down, but he never thought that would apply to him. Joonmyeon’s always considered himself healthy. Perhaps not the fittest guy in the world, but healthy enough all the same. Briefly, he wonders when exactly he became far too comfortable with being far too comfortable.
Joonmyeon smiles as he enters the break room first thing in the morning, breathing in the familiar scent of brewed coffee and fresh pastries. He rubs his hands together in excitement as he makes his way over to the free concessions, helping himself to a couple jelly-filled donuts and a piping hot cup of coffee.
Just as he’s in the process of emptying five packets of sugar into his beverage, one of his coworkers approaches him. “Morning, boss!”
Joonmyeon lifts his gaze up from his cup of coffee, offering Chanyeol a warm smile. “Morning, Park. Did you process those files I sent you yesterday?”
“Working on it, actually. I should be finished by noon. Whoa-” he pauses, breathing out a lighthearted chuckle. “You better go easy on that cup of diabetes.”
Joonmyeon offers Chanyeol a thoughtful hum as he reaches for the creamer, pouring it in without measure. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” he starts, reaching out to give his boss’ small, rotund stomach a gentle pat. It jiggles with each touch. “Your suit’s gotten a bit too small these days.”
Joonmyeon blinks as he watches Chanyeol’s large hand remove itself from his stomach when he impulsively sucks it in. Instead, his coworker’s hand grabs at one of the donuts Joonmyeon’d picked out for himself, taking it and beginning to stuff his grinning face with it as he wanders out of the break room.
He doesn’t respond to the other’s mouth-filled farewell, hand now resting protectively over his stomach where Chanyeol’d touched. He quietly abandons the second breakfast he’s made for himself, hurriedly slinking back to the safe confines of his office.
Perhaps it was the moment when his and Yixing’s shared diet changed from lavish, home-cooked meals to take-out and makeshift ramen meals, shared right from the pot. It was easier to have an excuse to fritter away his time in the kitchen when he’d had reasons to - wooing his boyfriend (at the time) with his cooking skills, taking advantage of their time off for their honeymoon. Returning to their respective jobs left little room for stability in their routine at home, and so began their love affair with convenience.
But it couldn’t have been just that, could it? Joonmyeon also takes into account that he’s lived alone before he moved in with Yixing initially, and always wore the same size. And it always fit him perfectly before this moment. Snug, but not as snug as Joonmyeon’s come to realize his attire is now. And Yixing - Yixing hasn’t gained any weight himself, has he? He thinks he would’ve noticed by now, if so.
Just as Joonmyeon decides it was a combination of rookie mistakes that’s led up to this point - poor diet, poor portioning, lack of exercise compared to Yixing’s own tasking career - he realizes that it’s been a while since he’s actually seen his husband without his clothes on.
And it’s been a while since Yixing’s seen Joonmyeon without his clothes on.
Now, Joonmyeon wonders if that’s because his husband’s much more perceptive than him. After all, he is the one who has to look at him when they make love. Perhaps Yixing’s already noticed his weight gain, and that’s why they haven’t bothered with carnal relations.
Perhaps Yixing isn’t attracted to him anymore.
He wrings his wrists in slight panic at this realization before occupying himself with fiddling with his wedding band. Joonmyeon’s eyes meet his own in the mirror for a long moment before they rest on the golden ring nestled between his thumb and forefinger. He taps at it idly, finding the action more of a test to make sure it’s actually real rather than a soothing impulse.
As much as he hates to think Yixing has such a shallow mindset, he doesn’t think he’d blame him. How can he expect his husband to still love something so drastically different than what he signed up for?
Drastically different in Joonmyeon’s eyes, that is.
Just as he’s deliberating his marriage’s fate, he hears the lock to the front door click. He straightens up slowly, in time with the loud creaking of the rusted hinges, and flinches slightly when the intruder allows the heavy metal frame to slam shut.
“I’m home!” Yixing calls, and Joonmyeon doesn’t answer. After finally looking at himself - really, truly looking - he decides that he can’t face the other anymore. Not willingly. Usually, when the other arrived home, he’d rush to greet him with a bounce in his step. It was always as if their honeymoon phase was still in full swing.
Now, all Joonmyeon can even think about is how his pudge would jiggle with said bounce in his step; how every door frame and hallway seems too narrow to navigate through.
When Yixing doesn’t get the answer he’s expecting, however, he takes it upon himself to search for his husband. “Myeon?” The Chinese man smiles when he nudges the door to his and his husband’s bedroom open, only to be greeted with the other standing across the room. “There you are.”
Joonmyeon initially doesn’t have the courage to look in the other’s direction, but he can’t help meeting his eyes through the mirror. He feels he owes him that much. He feels guilty for a lot of things, but mostly for hearing his husband’s familiar sweet coo at the moment he feels most undeserving of it.
“Is something wrong?” Yixing asks, beginning to remove his work attire. This isn’t the question Joonmyeon expected. “You seem really out of it today. How come you didn’t answer me earlier?”
“Yixing… do you notice anything different? About… me?”
“What?” Yixing blinks, brow arching slightly as he steps up behind Joonmyeon to stare into the mirror alongside him. He takes a moment to eye Joonmyeon from head to toe, and Joonmyeon watches as his husband’s expression changes from confusion to concern.
He lowers his head in shame, preparing for a good verbal hiding.
Yixing, on the other hand, offers his husband a rather wry smile through the mirror. “Oh. Did you get a haircut or something? That’s it, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I’ve never been good at noticing things like that-”
Joonmyeon lifts his eyes back up to the mirror, jaw now slack in awe from the other’s dodging of what should’ve been the obvious topic of discussion. “No. That’s not it.”
“-and your hair’s always short, so-” Yixing finally pauses, posture stiffening before he lets out a chuckle laced with relief. “Oh. Oh! I know, you dyed your hair! It looks-”
“Yixing, do you never look at me? Yes, I got it dyed, but not recently. It’s been the same shade of chestnut brown for a while, now.” He sucks in a deep breath, turning to face his husband boldly, despite not having the courage to meet his gaze. “But I’m not talking about my hair. If that’s taken you this long to notice, then I know for sure that you know about my weight gain. It’s why you won’t really look at me, right? I repulse you, don’t I?”
Yixing falls silent, his expression falling as well. He stares down his husband in utter shock, the uncharacteristic outburst catching him completely off-guard. The Chinese man couldn’t remember a time when he and his husband fought. Sure, they’d had disagreements here and there, but the two were always so passive that they’d settle it sooner than it began. And Yixing always admired that about their relationship; about Joonmyeon.
Right now, however, was the only different side of his husband he can recall encountering. “Why would you think that you repulse me? Myeon, I- I’m sorry-”
“How come you didn’t tell me?” Joonmyeon finally looks up at Yixing, brows knotting together as his eyes rapidly blink away tears threatening to fall. He didn’t intend to fall apart like this, but, to him, this instance puts their whole marriage into perspective. How could he not fall apart if his marriage was going to as well? “How come you didn’t tell me I looked like… this.”
Yixing intended to give Joonmyeon the space he seemed to need, but seeing those glassy eyes causes him to lurch forward and immediately coil his arms around his husband. He holds the other close to his chest despite the other’s weak struggles, and only tightens his hold on Joonmyeon once he’s settled into weeping against his bare chest. He feels more defeated than ever upon feeling his husband’s hot tears splash against his skin, and he wants more than anything to console the other. “I didn’t tell you anything…” he starts carefully; slowly, “because I thought there was nothing to say.”
Joonmyeon’s lips part to respond, but only suck in a trembling breath.
“But, now, I think I was wrong. I should’ve said something.” His chest heaves along with an almost inaudible sigh. “If I’d said something, you wouldn’t be this way right now.”
This is it, Joonmyeon thinks. This is where Yixing scolds him for being so careless about his body; reprimands him for being so gluttonous.
“If- If I’d told you just how beautiful I think you are, every single day; every single night, then you wouldn’t be standing here in front of me, crying, thinking I found you even remotely ‘repulsive’ or unattractive.”
Just as the shorter male tries to revel in what he thought would be the last time his husband would so much as touch him, he thinks his heart stops.
“What?”
Yixing’s lips quirk into a small smile as he leans down just enough to nuzzle his nose against Joonmyeon’s head. Then his own nose, giving his head a little wiggle to rub the tips together.
The Korean male’s only half-fazed by Yixing’s behavior, honestly. “Stop,” he murmurs, thoroughly offended by the other’s cute actions. This was no time to be adorable, his heart was breaking.
“I meant what I said. And I’ll make up for it,” Yixing promises, angling his head just enough to press a sweet kiss to his husband’s lips. “I’ll make up for all the day’s I’ve forgotten to tell you. It’s been about a week, hasn’t it?”
“Yixing-”
“We’ll retrace our steps until we both can remember.” He smiles, a bit too warmly and blindingly for Joonmyeon’s heart to take. The latter eventually cracks a halfhearted smile in return, but it soon dissipates with his protesting of the other’s wandering hands. Yixing’s unbuttoning his shirt, now, and all the shorter can think is that he’ll see everything, then. He’ll see how his stomach rolls over the top of his slacks, then the dimples in his thighs when he removes them too.
The Chinese male is undeterred, however - he continues undressing his husband, now realizing that it’s been far too long since he’s had this luxury. Even then, however, Joonmyeon was still plump the last time he’d made love to him. And Yixing loved every single moment of it, just as he’d loved every moment of the first time he’d had the privilege of exploring the other’s body.
When he’s managed to get a fussing Joonmyeon’s briefs strewn across the room, he then begins to nudge the other towards his bed. His husband’s still grumbling about it with every excuse in the book - he’s cold, he’s not in the mood - but Yixing’s hands are so gently gripping his soft hips, lazily kneading the tender flesh as he lays him down onto the soft mattress.
“I love you,” Yixing murmurs as he crawls on top of the other, hovering over the huffing man beneath him. He doesn’t lean in just yet - from this angle, he can finally appreciate the masterpiece beneath him. From the front, at least. “I loved you from our very first date and onwards. I vowed to love you for the rest of my life when I married you.”
His lips crave to attach themselves somewhere, but his hands take priority as they continue to wander. They start at Joonmyeon’s knees before sliding their way up his plush thighs - pausing every now and then to give them a brief squeeze, flickering his tongue out to wet his lips as he watches his fingers sink into the extremely pliant flesh. Occasionally, he’ll give his hand a light shake to encourage his husband to part his legs for him, though he also indulges in the ulterior motive of watching Joonmyeon’s thighs jiggle lightly. And the sweet little groans of the man beneath him.
“I’ll always love you,” he hums, finally leaning in to slot his lips over the expanse of his husband’s neck to begin his journey downwards. “And I’ll always think you’re beautiful-” Joonmyeon’s back arches, and Yixing’s kisses cross the bridge of his chest, down to his plump tummy. His lips finally halt their expedition, taking their sweet time to suck bits of pliant flesh into his mouth in between sweet kisses and gentle nips. “-Whether you’re eighty pounds or eight-hundred pounds.”
Joonmyeon’s eyes have long since slipped shut, but that doesn’t stop tears from welling up in them again. He’s overwhelmed, honestly - Yixing tending to him so lovingly and telling him exactly what he thought he’d never hear makes him feel more guilty than ever for accusing him of feeling otherwise.
Yixing soothes his husband by continuing his past ministrations with his hands, still fondling the other’s thighs. His lips move on, however, away from the pinkened circles on his pale tummy to press kisses elsewhere - above and below his belly button; on both sides. “It’s so soft,” he sighs, lips now just barely grazing the other’s warm skin. “You’re so soft. As soft as cotton.”
Joonmyeon’s smiling now, his fingers tangling themselves in Yixing’s soft locks. He gives his husband’s scalp a gentle, fond scratch in between loving pets, allowing the other to continue re-mapping his body. It felt nice, now that he finally felt comfortable enough again to allow access to his body. It felt nice to feel like he rightfully belongs to Yixing again.
Yixing’s tongue finds a new use when he encounters several remnants of stretch marks. The muscle laves over the indentations lazily, tracing out both the faded and pinkened scarring from bottom to top. Yixing can’t help but admire the little valleys embedded into his lover’s body now that he’s gotten up close and personal with him, finding the additional adornments to be more symbolic of the comfort and acceptance shared between the two married men than anything else.
He’s edged onwards by his husband’s little mewls, legs parting even wider now without his urging, but, by now, Yixing’s got other ideas. “Roll over,” he instructs softly, smiling as he lifts himself up just enough to allow the other to move easily. He nudges at the other’s side when Joonmyeon shoots him a pointed look, helping him to maneuver himself around.
Once his husband’s backside is presented to him, all he can do is sigh out little coos of how absolutely lush he thinks the other looks. It takes all he has in him to keep himself from diving right in, and instead he places his hands atop the other’s hips once more. He gives Joonmyeon’s love handles a gentle squeeze, lifting his lower half up off of the mattress to help the other onto his knees. With his bum propped up nicely for him, Yixing allow himself to indulge.
His hands slide down to rest on either cheek of Joonmyeon’s ass, digging his fingers into his most prized part of the other’s body after giving it a firm smack. With both hands. He lets out a low, guttural groan as he continues toying with his husband’s plump bum, having initially been absolutely captivated by the way it jiggled with every touch of his. Joonmyeon’s sweet mewls and gasps and no, stop playing with it like it’s Jell-O, it’s not funny underneath him is almost an even better motive to continue.
But, by now, his mouth was salivating and craving more contact; more to devour with tender kisses and even more tender suckles. His hands cease their toying in favor of keeping the two little globes parted, fingers digging themselves deep into the plush surface. He grins at the sight presented to him before finally lowering himself face-level with his husband’s puckered entrance.
His tongue finds use again, but not after Yixing lavishes his most favorite body part of Joonmyeon’s in sloppy, wet smooches. He thinks the only thing more beautiful than his husband himself might be the giggles he’s trying to muffle with their comforter. And the only thing possibly more beautiful than that is the way he keens underneath him when his tongue prods at his budded ring of muscles. Yixing slacks his jaw in order to engulf as much of the other into his mouth as physically possible, teeth gently grazing over the sensitive orifice.
Joonmyeon only continues losing it the further Yixing’s tongue snakes its way inside of him. Despite the difficulty presented by his husband’s clenching muscle, he remains patient - hands working and toying with the other’s pliant cheeks. Sometimes, he’ll force them together against his own facial cheeks as he lurches himself forward to send his tongue deeper in its excavation, his head playfully shaking along with the movement.
Mostly, it’s just to make Joonmyeon squeal, however.
Other times, he’ll force the other’s cheeks far apart and allow himself to slip his tongue out of Joonmyeon and remove his lips with a soft, suction-y ‘pop.’ He’ll look at his work through hooded eyes, cheek nuzzling the other’s buttocks - his husband’s twitching asshole, incredibly slick and almost reddened from Yixing’s gentle nibbles - and then he’ll reattach his lips to continue right where he’d left off.
Eventually, Yixing represses the urge to inspect his work, and instead focuses himself at the task at hand. His tongue remains buried deep inside his counterpart, lazily slipping itself in and out at odd intervals. It doesn’t take long for the two to fall into a steady rhythm. He urges Joonmyeon forward occasionally whenever his tongue found refuge in its respective cavern, and then uses his grip on his husband’s ass to pull him back down onto his awaiting muscle.
Joonmyeon, in between his gasps and weak fidgeting, doesn’t fail to catch on. His hips work his bum down against Yixing’s face every now and again, losing himself in the ebb and flow of their synchronization. He thinks he sees stars when his husband’s tongue finds itself stroking at his trembling inner walls, but he sees galaxies when Yixing’s hand abandons one of his cheeks to find the other’s leaking length, giving it the most painful; playful toying Joonmyeon thinks he’s ever felt before finally tugging at it in slow, lazy strokes.
Joonmyeon comes with curled toes and head thrown back, and Yixing doesn’t relent his ministrations until he’s sure his lover’s completely spent.
When Yixing finally retracts his tongue, a thin string of saliva attaching his lips to the other’s glistening hole finally breaking when he returns to tending to Joonmyeon’s bum - giving it sweeter, more lingering kisses than the last time they’d visited. They expand their territorial range as his husband lowers his lower half down onto the mattress once more, taking one last moment to give his cheeks little bite indentations and pinkened marks until Joonmyeon rolls over onto his back. Yixing still finds himself nestled between his husband’s legs even long after he’d helped him clean up the mess he’d contributed to.
Joonmyeon’s fingers card themselves through Yixing’s hair while he watches the other fondly, Yixing suddenly seeming to be teething in the way he continuously gives his husband’s thighs gentle little nibbles. “I’m sorry that I ever doubted you.”
“I don’t mind too much,” Yixing mumbles, lips still wrapped around the squishy surface. He noses it a little before tilting his head back to look up towards his lover with a certain sparkle in his eyes. “Go ahead and forget again. And again. I wouldn’t mind reminding you a million times over, if we end up like this.”