Work Text:
You were staring at your boyfriend, the dark circle under his eyes matched the t-shirt he wore, lips chapped, his fringe tousled back, and he’s still the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen. His focus that was on his phone screen shifted to you, took him long enough since you have started to feel a crick on your. He snickered, “Liking the view?” he asked. “Absolutely love it. Are you sure you didn’t escape from the museum? Art gallery maybe?” you replied. His fans said that to him a lot, it almost became an inside joke for them, but I didn’t feel like a joke. Yoo Taeyang’s beauty or handsomeness actually looked like someone took the utmost care, love, and passion to sculpt him. He certainly was more than his look, but he truly is a sight for sore eyes.
He chuckled as he scooted closer to you, saying “Maybe I did, but right now, it’s a private presentation for you.” His job required him to be seen by many people, which was fair, and you’re proud of every love he’s received. Keeping him under the cloak would’ve been a crime. But this version of Yoo Taeyang, unfiltered and raw, was something you could proudly call your private possession. You knew there are people out there who wanted to take a glimpse, but you’re the one he let in.
Feeling a little bit brave, you kissed the corner of his lips. To be fair, it had been quite some time since both of you last spent a well rested day together, you would not waste this chance. “Great presentation as always, but I want to be something else for tonight,” you said to him. He looked right into your eyes and you knew that the feeling was reciprocated, but still he asked, “What do you want to be?” To that you answered, “I’m feeling like an artist tonight, would you like to work with me?” His response was quick and straightforward as he lurched onto you.
Lips slotting against eachother’s, your fingers combing through his black hair. You reached for his nape, caressing his freshly trimmed hairline. His hand cupped your jaw, tracing your right cheek with his thumb. His other hand was on another part of your body, fingers between your ribs, as if trying to touch your heart, when all he ever needed to do was to exist. Both of your breaths were starting to sound frantic. Your head felt like someone replaced your brain with a chock of cotton, yet the longer you stayed under, the heavier it gets. You broke the kiss and you saw him with his lips bitten red, eyes dark, chest heaving, and you certainly were not in a better condition. When you’ve caught your breath, you said “Sunshine, I told you that I’m the artist tonight.”