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Jesper Fahey is stupider than he thought he'd be. Honestly, he's done this multiple times with Wylan already—for goodness sake, it's their 6th year together; the times he's fucked and been fucked by Wylan Van Eck were more than what he can count on his toes and fingers. Seriously, he knows how to make him come undone in a hundred multiple ways.
So, why was the sight of Wylan, stripped off his t-shirt—mind you, just his top—making his brain utterly wordless and short-circuited?
Maybe he hadn't expected Wylan to get so...lean. He wasn't even muscular—not even a little bit, no— it's just that Wylan's abdomen was so fucking perfect. From hunching his back and curling up all the time, he was always deemed small. Slender, thin, petite—and maybe, he still was. But the small curves on his arms and on his stomach were telling the opposite.
So what if Wylan was a little bit built? It wasn't even that big of a deal. Jesper knows damn well that the barrel changes you both mentally and physically. He shouldn't be shocked that after a stable meal routine (It took him at least two years to work this out) and a few years of taking jobs from Kaz while carrying his ghezen-forsaken-ten-thousand-pound satchel, Wylan would be a little stocked, right? He shouldn't be surprised, except for the fact that Jesper was so damn in love that it hurts to blink and lose—even for a mere half a second—the sight of a body so ethereal.
“What? Like what you see?” Wylan, still dripping from the bath he took, looked him straight in the eye. The gaze was a fuse to Jesper’s pent-up feelings—if this continues on, he's gonna explode: be it mentally or physically, he wouldn't mind.
Jesper's gaze followed the droplets that clung to Wylan's chest, dripping south to the towel that hung light on his waist.
Oh my fucking Ghezen.
Jesper swallowed.
Oh fuck. He still hasn't responded.
“Y-yeah no I—” He swallowed, again, then tried to cover it with a forced cough.
“When did you get—uhm—yeah” Jesper pathetically stammered as he weakly pointed at his lover’s torso.
Jesper's pride, if it was ever there to begin with, was surely down the drain now. The expertise that came from years of experience was but a crumpled paper set on fire by one of Wylan's matches. To be honest, he'll have it this way. He'll let Wylan trample on his ego, only if it means that Wylan would be on top of him.
“Earth to Jesper Llewelyn Fahey?"
No response.
“Earth to Jesper Llewelyn Fahey-Van Eck?"
Wylan giggled, and that surely broke Jesper out of his trance.
“Honestly, Jesper, flushing is usually what I do, but I don't mind switching roles for once.” Wylan said, slowly trekking the distance between the bathroom door and the bed to which Jesper was sitting on. Jesper, still dazed, stilled on the motion, as if there was some chain on their bedsheets to which he was tethered to.
“Wy, put some clothes back on.” There it was, Jesper's first coherent sentence of the night. Wylan would be proud of him, if Jesper didn't turn his head to the opposite direction while saying it. Hiding his face didn't hide his dilated pupils, but it did preserve whatever's left of his pride.
Wylan took another step. He was achingly close to Jesper's bubble of senses.
“Really? Dear Jes, do you want me to put my clothes back on?”
Ghezen. He can't, and Wylan is making this so, very hard for him. How Jesper wished that everyone just disappeared and it was just him and Wylan inside a soundproof room.
“Wy, you know that there are guests coming in 5 minutes.” He finally turned to face his betrothed.
“Five minutes is a lot to work with, Jes.” Wylan sat beside him, leading to Jesper’s senses being overly heightened by the merchant.
“If we start now, we'd get to greet them with an ecstatic mood.” Wylan continued. Inching closer, caressing Jesper's cheek with his cold hand.
Oh how Jesper wanted. He absolutely craved Wylan. His hands, his lips, his tongue—he desired Wylan entirely. What's stopping him, anyway? He'd done this under his father's house before, and they both live with Marya. Jesper's pretty sure both parents have at least (accidentally) listened to their intense lovemaking sessions.
But he can't. He can't because he knows he can't control himself. Five minutes will turn into 10, and ten minutes will multiply into hours.
“I hate to be the rational one, but it's literally the party we organized, sunshine.” The heat he previously felt was now settling into warmth. Jesper finally thinks that he has this situation covered—not until Wylan tests him further by closing the distance and hovering his mouth just an inch top of Jesper's ear.
“Don't you want our guests to hear how much you love me?”
Oh. His monopoly on control was slowly getting breached. No wonder Wylan's the merchant in this relationship. Jesper felt the heat resurface, bubbling from the fiery pit of his stomach up to the lower parts of his body. He suddenly grabbed the closest pillow and placed it on his lap. How could Wylan get him so worked up in just minutes?
Wylan laughed. A heartfelt noise that echoed against the walls. If Jesper were on parem, he'd find a way to capture the reverberation and keep it inside a bottle, locked and untouched by the rest of the world. Maybe he'd put it in a museum, just for people to marvel about how his soon-to-be-husband's laugh is a symphony of bliss itself.
“Oh Jesper, we've been together for seven years, and you're still—” Wylan kept laughing. It was now that Jesper was the one rolling his eyes.
“Oh shut it.”
Wylan did the opposite. He fell back and giggled a bit more, which most definitely calmed the ruckus in Jesper’s heart. He couldn't help but smile at the sole holder of his soul.
“You're dripping by the way. Shoo.” Jesper had composed himself enough to push Wylan off the bed.
“Hey! What a jerk!” Wylan said as he stumbled, then proceeding to stand up and grab the pillow on Jesper. The former then threw the pillow on Jesper's face. At the prime age of twenty-five years old, Wylan Van Eck still initiated pillow fights with his boyfriend.
“Oh. So this is how it's gonna be, huh?” Jesper responded slowly, expression still bewildered from the action. The change in ambience was subtle, and Jesper wasn't complaining. He'd have Wylan in every other way.
“It was only an act of revenge, asshole.” Wylan batted his eyes on Jesper.
“Your innocent façade isn't gonna work on me, merchling.” Jesper got a hold of another pillow, aiming to swing at Wylan. It was halted not a moment later, when Wylan decided that he was dry enough to clothe.
“Wait, wait. I'm gonna change first.” Wylan held his hands in front of him, signing a temporary truce. He turned his back on Jesper and walked over to the cabinet.
“Coward. You just don't want to have a pillow fight against Ketterdam's best sharpshooter.” Jesper argued while Wylan was putting on his dark green suit.
“Well, you wouldn't want me to attack you with nothing on, would you?”
Wylan stood there, both hands on waist, head turned to his partner. Jesper couldn't help his lips curve at the sight. Everything just felt so warm. It was perfect.
The sun could explode right now and Jesper would be content with this being his last sight. He doesn't even care if the sun explodes; Wylan would still and forever be his light.