Chapter 4: Chapter 4
The scent of sunscreen and saltwater still lingered on their skin as they dressed for dinner, a clean, bright contrast to the deepening indigo of the twilight outside. The villa felt different now—lived in, theirs. A towel draped over a chair, a half-empty bottle of soda on the counter, Haru’s discarded sandals by the door.
“I’m starving,” Jeno announced, his stomach growling audibly as he buttoned a fresh shirt.
“Me too!” Haru chirped, spinning in her sundress. “Can we have pizza?”
Hyukjae, smoothing his hair in the reflection of the dark glass window, feigned horror. “Pizza? In the middle of the ocean? That’s a crime against geography. We’re having seafood.”
A collective groan came from the children. Donghae laughed, slipping his wallet into his pocket. “Your Appa’s right. When on a tropical island, you eat what the ocean provides. It’s a rule.”
“A dumb rule,” Jeno muttered, but he was smiling.
The resort’s main restaurant was an open-air pavilion built over the water, lit by flaming torches and strings of paper lanterns. The night air hummed with cicadas and the soft chatter of other guests. They were led to a prime table at the edge, where the glass floor revealed the nocturnal dance of stingrays gliding through the illuminated water below.
A waiter presented a massive platter of ice, upon which was arranged a breathtaking still-life of the sea’s bounty. Donghae’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning.
“Alright, my little land-dwellers,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Lesson time. This,” he pointed to a glistening, pinkish-orange mound, “is honghap – mussels. Steamed in garlic and white wine. And these,” he indicated a row of black, ridged shells, “are gul – oysters. They taste like the ocean in one perfect bite.”
Hyukjae wrinkled his nose, pushing his chair back slightly. “They taste like the ocean,” he said, echoing Donghae’s words with theatrical disdain. “Which is another way of saying they taste like salty snot.”
“Hyukjae!” Donghae scolded, but he was laughing.
Haru peered at the oysters with deep suspicion. “Fish are friends, not food,” she declared solemnly, quoting her favorite movie.
“Those aren’t fish, honey,” Jeno said, ever the literalist. “They’re… sea boogers.”
“Jeno!”
The platter also held gleaming prawns, delicate white fish fillets, vibrant scarlet lobsters with crackable claws, and a bowl of wriggling, live gaebul – sea squirts – a Jeju delicacy that resembled dark, fleshy flowers.
Hyukjae pointed at the sea squirts. “Absolutely not. Those look like something a monster would cough up.”
The kids readily agreed. Their plates soon held only plain grilled fish, a few prawns peeled by Donghae, and a mountain of french fries. Hyukjae’s plate was identical.
Donghae looked at the three of them, their noses uniformly scrunched at the rest of the feast, and shook his head in mock despair. “Of all the things they could have inherited from you—your drama, your smile, your sense of rhythm—they get your palate. A tragic waste.” He shrugged, a glint in his eye. “More for me.”
He set to work with gusto. He pried open mussels, sucking the briny flesh from the shell. He tipped oysters into his mouth, swallowing them with a pleased hum. He demolished a lobster, cracking the claws with a dedicated tool, digging out every morsel of sweet meat. He even ate a sea squirt, its strong, iodine-rich flavor making his eyes flutter shut in pleasure.
“You can’t eat too much, Daddy,” Jeno said, watching the growing pile of empty shells on Donghae’s side plate. He reached over and poked his father’s side, right on the rib. “Appa can’t carry you if you grow too fat.”
The table went silent for a beat. Then Donghae’s jaw dropped in exaggerated outrage. He put down his lobster cracker with a definitive clack. “Are you saying Daddy is fat?!?!”
Hyukjae, who had been quietly enjoying his safe, unadventurous fish, nearly choked on his water. A grin of pure, unadulterated glee spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, a spectator enjoying a premier show. “He’s got a point, babe. All those gym muscles will turn into… samgyeopsal. Very delicious, but hard to lift.”
Donghae turned his wide-eyed betrayal from Jeno to Hyukjae. “Et tu, Hyukjae? My own husband? You’re enjoying this!”
“Immensely,” Hyukjae said, his smile blinding. “It’s a nice change of pace, not being the butt of the joke for once. Please, continue, Jeno. Tell Daddy about his impending dad-bod.”
Jeno, emboldened, giggled. “You’ll get round. Like a friendly seal.”
“A seal?” Donghae looked down at his own torso, then back at his grinning family. He tried to maintain his affront, but a laugh broke through. The image was too absurd. “Fine. But this friendly seal is going to finish this entire platter by himself. And you’ll all be sorry when you smell the deliciousness and can’t have any.”
He made a show of slurping a particularly juicy mussel, groaning in ecstasy. Haru giggled, covering her mouth. The tension from the afternoon, the deep, reassuring sex on the deck, the leftover guilt—all of it melted away in the warm, silly banter under the lantern light. They were just a family, teasing each other over dinner.
Later, back in the villa, with the kids asleep and the night deep and quiet, the dynamic shifted. The playfulness solidified into a thick, anticipatory warmth. They moved through the bedroom, cleaning up, brushing teeth, in a silent communion. The moon was higher now, casting sharper shadows.
Donghae emerged from the bathroom to find Hyukjae already on the bed, propped against the headboard. He wasn’t smiling. His gaze was dark, intense, traveling over Donghae’s body with a possessiveness that made the air thin.
“All that seafood,” Hyukjae said, his voice a low rasp. “All that energy. You need to work it off.”
Donghae stopped, a towel in his hands. “Is that so?”
“Come here.”
The command was quiet, absolute. Donghae obeyed, standing beside the bed. Hyukjae’s hand snaked out, fingers curling into the waistband of Donghae’s sleep pants. He yanked him closer.
“You ate like a king,” Hyukjae murmured, his face inches from Donghae’s stomach. He nuzzled the soft fabric, inhaling. “You look like a king. My king.” The last word was a hot puff of air against Donghae’s skin.
Then Hyukjae took him into his mouth, right through the cotton. The fabric was instantly wet, hot, a frustrating, exquisite barrier. Donghae groaned, his hands flying to Hyukjae’s hair. Hyukjae sucked, hard, the pressure and the friction of the material a maddening tease. He mouthed him, his tongue pressing and circling the head, his teeth grazing the shaft through the thin layer.
“Fuck, Hyuk…” Donghae breathed.
With a sharp tug, Hyukjae pulled the pants down, freeing Donghae’s already-hard cock. He didn’t use his hand. He just leaned forward and swallowed him down in one smooth, deep glide.
Donghae cried out, his head falling back. Hyukjae was relentless, bobbing his head with a hungry, sloppy rhythm. He took him to the back of his throat again and again, his nose buried in the coarse hair at the base. The obscene, wet sounds filled the room, louder than the ocean. Spit dripped down Donghae’s balls, onto Hyukjae’s clutching fingers.
“Gonna come,” Donghae warned, his hips stuttering.
Hyukjae pulled off with a slick pop. “No you’re not.” His lips were swollen, his chin glistening.“Not like that. I want you inside me. I want to feel full of you.”
He scrambled onto the bed, onto his hands and knees, presenting himself. The moon lit the perfect curve of his ass.“Now. Don’t be gentle.”
Donghae didn’t need telling twice. He was on him in an instant, his body covering Hyukjae’s back. He spit into his palm, slicking himself roughly before guiding his cock to Hyukjae’s entrance. He pushed in without preamble, burying himself in one brutal, unyielding thrust.
Hyukjae screamed into the duvet, his back bowing, his fingers clawing at the sheets. He was tight, hot, gripping Donghae like a vise.
“Is this what you wanted?” Donghae gritted out, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force rocked the bed. “This what you needed?”
“Yes! Harder, god, fucking ruin me, Donghae!”
Donghae set a punishing pace, each drive a claim. He leaned over, biting the sweat-damp skin of Hyukjae’s shoulder, marking him. His hand snaked around, grasping Hyukjae’s leaking cock, jerking him in time with his thrusts. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, their ragged breaths, Hyukjae’s choked-off sobs of pleasure.
“You’re mine,” Donghae grunted, his rhythm becoming erratic, brutal. “My silly, picky, perfect fucking monkey. All mine.”
“Yours, yours, I’m yours—” Hyukjae chanted, a broken mantra.
The coil in Donghae’s gut snapped. With a final, deep plunge, he came, his orgasm tearing through him like a storm surge, pulsing deep inside Hyukjae’s clenching heat. The sensation tipped Hyukjae over the edge. He came with a shattered cry, his release striping the sheets beneath them, his body squeezing Donghae’s cock in frantic pulses.
Donghae collapsed on top of him, spent, both of them slick and trembling. He softened inside him, but didn’t pull out, just lay there, their hearts hammering against each other’s backs.
After a long while, Hyukjae turned his head, his cheek against the rumpled sheet. “I’d still carry you,” he whispered, hoarse. “Even as a seal.”
Donghae laughed, a breathy, exhausted sound. He pressed a kiss to Hyukjae’s spine. “I know.”
They lay there, intertwined in the moonlit silence, the smell of sex and sea salt and each other filling the air, a different, deeper feast entirely.