The peaceful sleep we’d only just regained after so many years made both Hoàng Tuấn and me want nothing more than to stay tangled together, ignoring the entire world. When I opened my eyes, the late afternoon sun had already faded. I gently propped myself up and reached to pull the curtain aside. Sensing my movement, Hoàng Tuấn thought I was trying to slip out of bed—he quickly yanked me back down and locked me in a tight embrace.
His arms were firm, but the thing below was even firmer. We were both completely naked, skin against skin, flesh against flesh—it would’ve been harder not to get hard.
I wrapped my hand around Hoàng Tuấn’s thick shaft, stroking up and down a few times, teasing: “So full of energy, huh?”
He kept his eyes closed, pulled my head closer, kissed my forehead, and murmured: “It’s your fault I’m this worked up. One more round?”
I whined: “You ravaged me all night—still not satisfied?”
He replied: “Last night was only three times. Even thirty wouldn’t be enough!”
I lightly smacked the swollen head and growled: “Greedy!”
He clung to me playfully: “Come on! I promise I’ll be gentle! Please?”
I reached for the bedside table, grabbed the lube, poured some into my palm, then coated his rock-hard cock with the slick gel. The moment he felt it, he knew I’d agreed—grinning happily like a kid.
Truth is, we were both still pretty worn out, so we skipped the usual warm-up foreplay. I turned my back to him, guided the tip to my entrance, and rubbed it there. Hoàng Tuấn gently pushed his hips forward; the long, thick shaft slid in easily thanks to the lube. It stretched me wide, my walls gripping every inch—I felt even the tiniest movement.
He stopped when the head pressed against the inner wall, sending waves of pleasure through my lower body, that incredible fullness. I reached down and felt about a finger’s length still outside. He stayed buried like that, occasionally pulling back and easing in just a short distance—but even that little motion had me moaning softly. One arm cradled my neck so he could hold me across the chest; the other gently stroked my cock.
This position always made me the most sensitive—cock deep inside, my own being tended to so carefully. Pleasure from both places at once felt a hundred times better than relentless pounding.
I teased: “Afternoon yoga session?”
He answered: “No. Practicing how to make the person I love feel good. This is your favorite, isn’t it?”
In bed, Hoàng Tuấn paid attention to every tiny detail. I was mostly good at taking it—offering my ass when he needed to let loose—but making him lose his mind? I probably couldn’t. Hoàng Tuấn was different; he noticed my smallest reactions. That’s how he knew this slow, deep intimacy drove me wild, even though I’d never told him.
I smiled, pulled his hand away from my cock, guided both arms around me in a full embrace. I reached back, pulled his head forward so his chin rested on my shoulder, cheek against cheek. I twisted to kiss him; he indulged me completely. I whispered: “This is what feels the best.”
Maybe the greatest thing in love is just that—having someone who always puts you first, who wants to satisfy even your most primal desires.
We stayed like that for a long, long time, only growing harder. Every so often he’d flex inside me, making his cock twitch teasingly. I spread his fingers, traced each knuckle, then pulled his hand to my lips and kissed it.
Those hands had weathered so many storms, yet they’d chosen to hold only me.
Everything was in the past, but thinking about it now still made me curious. I suddenly asked: “How did you live all those years without me?”
He joked: “I lived with a sex toy.”
I squirmed: “I’m being serious!” After a pause, I added: “Why didn’t you love someone else? What if I’d found someone by then?”
He answered: “You might’ve met someone better. I even hoped you would. But Duy Long told me you’d been alone all those years. I knew you were waiting for me.”
I lightly smacked his arm: “So you were sure you’d win and just waited!”
He kissed my hair and whispered: “I didn’t win. You didn’t win. Our love was the real winner.”
He was right—wasn’t this bond the reason we’d never truly been apart, even when physically distant?
Then Hoàng Tuấn told me the story I’d never known…
That year, after the breakup, Hoàng Tuấn kept working at the karaoke bar to survive.
One night, a regular client arrived—six years older than Hoàng Tuấn, named Xuân Minh. Like his name, he was beautiful and refined, always carrying the fresh warmth of spring sunlight.
Whenever he wanted Hoàng Tuấn, Xuân Minh always booked a taxi waiting in the alley to take him to his private apartment. Money was clearly no issue; he always paid triple the usual rate.
After sex, Hoàng Tuấn showered thoroughly. As usual, Xuân Minh sat by the window sipping coffee. Seeing Hoàng Tuấn emerge, he asked: “Lately you’ve needed a lot of poppers just to get hard. Are you unwell?”
Hoàng Tuấn brushed it off with a nod, not wanting to open up. But Xuân Minh continued: “If you broke up, move on—there are plenty of others. No need to mope like this.”
Hoàng Tuấn sighed and sat on the bed: “How do you know?”
Xuân Minh: “What don’t I know? But I really had no idea who this Quốc Hưng kid was that you call out so desperately even in your sleep.”
The thing was, Xuân Minh always wanted Hoàng Tuấn to stay over. Before, Hoàng Tuấn mostly refused because he had to return to the dorm. But recently he couldn’t face going back there, so he agreed to stay.
He never expected that, in a nightmare, he’d cry out Quốc Hưng’s name in anguish. Xuân Minh was perceptive; seeing Hoàng Tuấn’s unusual behavior lately, he knew the boy had just suffered a devastating heartbreak.
Hoàng Tuấn whispered: “I wronged him.”
Xuân Minh set down his coffee and said calmly: “He’s still alive. You’ll have chances to make it right later.”
Hoàng Tuấn was confused: “What do you mean?”
Xuân Minh stood, untied his silk robe belt. The fabric slipped from his shoulders and arms, pooling softly on the floor. His smooth body brushed past Hoàng Tuấn as he walked to the bathroom, saying over his shoulder: “I once wronged my lover too. But I can’t make it up anymore—because he’s no longer in this world.”
The bathroom door closed. Xuân Minh showered inside, leaving Hoàng Tuấn outside with a storm of emotions.
No comfort, no advice—just using pain to soothe pain.
It sounded absurd, but Hoàng Tuấn truly felt calmer. Compared to losing someone forever, a breakup seemed trivial.
So Xuân Minh wasn’t indifferent to love as Hoàng Tuấn had thought—perhaps the pain had been so great he’d closed his heart forever.
Suddenly Hoàng Tuấn’s own suffering felt small. A missed connection was fate, after all. In the end, Quốc Hưng’s happiness mattered most—whether Hoàng Tuấn was part of it or not.
Xuân Minh finished showering and climbed into bed beside him, murmuring: “Now you have no reason to refuse moving in with me, right?”
Before, Xuân Minh had repeatedly asked Hoàng Tuấn to live with him—offering to cover everything and teach him real-world professional skills no textbook could provide. Hoàng Tuấn had used the excuse of supporting his family; Xuân Minh offered to send money home as an open-ended loan. In truth, Hoàng Tuấn refused because of Quốc Hưng—and his own pride.
Xuân Minh was brilliant; countless people wanted to learn from him, but he always refused. Yet he kept inviting Hoàng Tuấn. Only Hoàng Tuấn received that privilege—and only he turned it down.
In exchange, Hoàng Tuấn would quit the karaoke bar and serve only Xuân Minh. Calling it a sugar-baby arrangement wouldn’t be wrong—except their ages fit a regular couple, not grandfather-grandson.
Hoàng Tuấn stayed silent. Xuân Minh knew he had nowhere else to go. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to pick up your things.”
Hoàng Tuấn couldn’t think clearly; he fell asleep beside Xuân Minh.
Early the next morning—barely 5 a.m., sky just lightening—Hoàng Tuấn was already up and packing. Xuân Minh, eyes still closed, grumbled: “The sun’s not even up and you’re leaving?”
Hoàng Tuấn said clearly: “The dorm opens at 5:30, and he’s still asleep then. If we run into each other, it’ll hurt us both.”
Xuân Minh was cold to everything except Hoàng Tuấn, whom he spoiled endlessly. Yawning, he got up, threw on clothes, and drove him to the dorm.
Hoàng Tuấn held the spare key—the one Quốc Hưng had made for emergencies. He never imagined the first time he’d use it would be for this.
Everyone inside was still dead asleep. Hoàng Tuấn didn’t own much; packing took no time. A wave of reluctance kept him from leaving immediately.
He slowly climbed the familiar ladder, gazing sadly at the curled-up figure on the top bunk.
Quốc Hưng slept deeply, but his brows stayed furrowed, breathing uneven. Hoàng Tuấn knew how much stress Quốc Hưng had endured lately—his heart never at peace. Without Quốc Hưng, Hoàng Tuấn couldn’t sleep well. How could Quốc Hưng possibly rest without him?
So close, yet he didn’t dare touch. Tears welled in Hoàng Tuấn’s eyes as he whispered: “I’m sorry—I failed you. Please live happily… for both of us.”
Gathering his courage, he leaned in and softly kissed Quốc Hưng’s sleeping forehead. When Quốc Hưng stirred slightly, Hoàng Tuấn quickly climbed down, grabbed his things, and left the room.
As the door closed behind him, he felt like he’d walked out of Quốc Hưng’s life forever. The key was still in his hand—but whether that door would ever open again, he had no idea.
Downstairs, Xuân Minh had the trunk open and waiting. He saw Hoàng Tuấn’s silence and said nothing, just drove off. When they stopped, they were at a private clinic specializing in sexual health—famous in the gay community but notoriously expensive.
Hoàng Tuấn asked: “I’m not sick. Why bring me here?”
Xuân Minh: “Full check-up.”
Hoàng Tuấn looked away: “If you’re worried I’ll infect you, why ask me to move in?”
He suddenly felt disrespected—yet powerless. In this line of work, how could anyone fully trust him?