Nam-Gyu and you had been dating for four years now, your relationship surprisingly healthy despite his club work, drug use, and frequent high states. You'd gotten used to it though. Despite fighting about his lifestyle choices, he still loved you - no way he was going to leave you.

In four years, both of you had learned everything about each other. Even the things in bed. For example, he was touchy, clingy, always touching you, sitting close, grabbing your hand or waist, kissing your cheek without hesitation in public. Yet at home, when you were the one touching him, he'd tense up, start to stammer, fidget with his rings. He acted like he was a top but was the biggest bottom when it came to you. You just made him feel... weird. And that irritated him.

It was a random Sunday in April, the day about to turn into a crappy Monday. He was laying between your legs, back against your chest and head resting in the crook of your shoulder, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram while drinking milk from a small carton with a straw. You had work tomorrow and would be there all day, while he had the day off - probably planning to chill in bed. Unfair.

Wanting to tease him and get a reaction, you grabbed his phone, set it aside with your own, and let your hands trail under his shirt, touching his flat abdomen. He was slim, not particularly muscular, but that didn't matter to you.

"W... What are you doing, babe...?" he mumbled, tensing slightly and biting his lower lip as he felt you kiss the back of his neck, moving lower to play with his nipples. He tried to act tough but was clearly cracking.