Hongjoong has tried to tell himself that his interest in rope is merely aesthetic. That this thing he and Yeosang are trying out is a sort of art project. He can tell himself this as he brings the rope around Yeosang’s chest, looping it back around itself – Yeosang is fully dressed, after all – but when the rope pulls tight against Yeosang’s clothing, tugs firm against the flesh underneath, it’s hard for Hongjoong to believe himself.

He tries to focus on what he is doing with his hands – checking the tension of the rope, making sure the knots lie flat – but as he brings the pattern of ropework further down Yeosang’s body, it gets harder to pretend that his interest in this is aesthetic. His fingers tremble; he brings the rope back along the line of Yeosang’s hips, and whatever his mind tries to tell him, his fingers know the intimacy of this act.

How does Yeosang keep so still? He doesn’t complain when Hongjoong has to redo a knot that doesn’t sit right; he doesn’t complain about the time this is taking, when it’s already late. He doesn’t complain when Hongjoong passes the rope between his legs, about Hongjoong’s proximity to his dick; even when Hongjoong moves his hands away, the pull of the rope means he can’t possibly forget –

And Hongjoong can pretend that none of this is affecting him, he can repeat the words in his mind, but it’s a lie. The way his own pants are too tight in the front says it’s a lie. And when he looks up, sees the flush over Yeosang’s face and neck, that says it’s a lie too.

They’re both kidding themselves, that this isn’t about sex.

But Hongjoong isn’t willing to break the spell just yet.