(slightly nsfw; alexa play 2 hands... obsessed with that song rn)

Yangyang would like to state, unequivocally, that he does not have a thing for Kun — Kun, whose knees crack when he gets up from low seating, who unironically reads the news every morning on actual paper, who thinks ripped jeans will cause you to catch a cold faster.

Kun's hands, though.

He's fiddling with his camera, the fancy one with the massive lens, one of his hands wrapping easily around its girth, the veins and tendons of his hands standing out under the harsh light. Yangyang doesn't know how long he looks, imagining how Kun's hands might feel — on him, around him — but then they stop moving, and then — he looks up, and nearly has a heart attack when he meets Kun's gaze.

"What're you staring at?" Kun asks, a knowing glint in his eye, and, yeah, Yangyang kinda wants to die.