The crowded university library buzzed with the low murmur of turning pages and whispered conversations, the scent of old books and fresh coffee lingering in the air as afternoon sunlight streamed through tall windows. Hoon, eighteen and still adjusting to campus life, clutched a stack of textbooks to his chest, his heart suddenly hammering when he spotted the tall figure leaning against a nearby shelf. Gyub stood there with effortless confidence, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead, his lean frame relaxed in a simple button-down shirt that hinted at the toned build beneath. Their eyes met briefly as Gyub reached for a book, and in that instant, something shifted inside Hoon—a warm, unexpected pull that made his cheeks flush and his breath catch.

Hoon's internal realization hit like a quiet storm: this wasn't just admiration for the upperclassman everyone seemed to know. It was attraction, raw and immediate, stirring a flutter low in his stomach as he imagined what Gyub's hands might feel like, steady and sure. He fumbled with his books, nearly dropping one, and Gyub glanced over with a polite nod, his expression friendly yet distant, as if Hoon were just another face in the crowd. "Need a hand with those?" Gyub asked, his voice smooth and reassuring, but already turning back to his own selection without waiting for a reply, maintaining that careful space that left Hoon both thrilled and aching for more.

The memory of that fleeting library encounter lingered like a half-remembered melody, fueling Hoon's quiet longing through the turning seasons until, on the eve of his nineteenth birthday, he found himself alone in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. His hands trembled slightly as he smoothed a sheet of cream-colored paper across the desk, pen poised above it, heart pounding with the weight of words he'd rehearsed in silence for over a year. "Gyub," he began, the ink flowing in careful, earnest strokes, "since that day in the library when your eyes met mine and something inside me awakened, I've carried this crush like a secret flame. You've been patient, kind, and impossibly out of reach, but I'm no longer the shy eighteen-year-old fumbling with books. I want you to be my first—my first kiss that deepens into touch, my first time feeling a man's hands on my skin, my first everything. I imagine your strong body pressing close, your cock hardening against mine as we explore each other slowly, your fingers tracing the curve of my ass before guiding me open with gentle insistence. I dream of your mouth on my nipples, your tongue teasing lower until I'm writhing and begging for you to fill my pussy—no, my hole—with the fullness only you could give, our breaths mingling in shared pleasure and the promise of something lasting."

He paused, cheeks burning at the explicit honesty spilling onto the page, yet the vulnerability felt right, a release after months of stolen glances across campus and late-night fantasies that left him aching and hard in the dark. The letter continued with confessions of his timid affection, his eagerness to please, and the way Gyub's reassuring presence had always made him feel safe enough to dream of surrender. Sealing the envelope with a trembling kiss, Hoon slipped it into the mailbox under the silver wash of moonlight, the metallic clink echoing his racing pulse. Back in his penthouse apartment, he paced the polished floors barefoot, the silk of his robe whispering against his thighs, anticipation twisting low in his belly like a living thing—equal parts terror and thrilling hope that Gyub might read every word and finally close the distance between them.

The soft chime of the doorbell sliced through the penthouse's evening hush, pulling Hoon from his restless pacing. His silk robe clung to his skin, damp with the nervous heat prickling along his spine, and he tightened the belt before descending the stairs to the dining area where his parents waited. The long table gleamed under crystal chandeliers, laden with steaming platters of grilled sea bass, roasted vegetables glistening with olive oil, and a cake crowned with nineteen flickering candles. Gyub stood in the doorway, hair tousled from the late arrival, his tailored shirt slightly rumpled as he offered a sheepish smile that sent a flush crawling up Hoon's neck.

"Traffic was a nightmare," Gyub explained, his voice low and warm as he greeted Hoon's parents with polite bows. During the meal, conversation flowed around family anecdotes and birthday wishes, but Hoon felt every glance from Gyub like a spark against his skin—the older man's eyes lingering on the way Hoon's fingers trembled while cutting his food, the subtle brush of knees under the table igniting a slow burn low in his belly. Gyub's hand rested casually on Hoon's thigh at one point, a reassuring squeeze that made Hoon's breath hitch, his cock twitching faintly beneath the fabric of his pants as he recalled the letter's raw confessions. The air thickened with unspoken tension, Gyub's presence a steady anchor amid the clink of silverware and his mother's laughter.

As dessert plates cleared, Gyub cleared his throat and turned to Hoon's parents with that protective calm Hoon adored. "If it's alright with you both, I'd like to stay over tonight—to keep an eye on Hoon after the long day." Approval came with easy nods and knowing looks, the permission settling like a secret promise between them. Alone at last in the penthouse's dimming lights after the family retired, Gyub drew Hoon close, their bodies aligning with a magnetic pull that made every nerve sing. Fingers traced the line of Hoon's jaw, then lower, brushing the hardened peaks of his nipples through the robe, while the press of Gyub's growing erection against Hoon's hip sent waves of aching heat pooling in his core, their shared breaths mingling in the charged silence.

Gyub's lips brushed Hoon's first in a feather-light kiss, tasting the faint sweetness of birthday cake and the salt of nervous anticipation. Hoon melted into it, his shy gasp swallowed as Gyub deepened the contact, tongue sliding gently against his in a slow, exploratory dance that sent sparks racing down Hoon's spine. Caresses followed, Gyub's hands roaming with patient reverence—palming the curve of Hoon's ass through the silk robe, then slipping inside to trace the smooth skin of his lower back, pulling their bodies flush so Hoon could feel every inch of Gyub's hardening cock pressing insistently against his own awakening length. The penthouse air hummed with their mingled scents, Gyub's cologne mingling with the musk of arousal, while Hoon's heart thudded wildly, a mix of longing and trust flooding his veins.

"Let's take this slow," Gyub murmured against Hoon's mouth, his voice a reassuring rumble. "Who undresses first?" Hoon's cheeks burned, but he whispered, "You," craving the sight of Gyub's confident form unveiled. Gyub smiled, shedding his shirt to reveal toned chest and the trail of dark hair leading downward, then eased Hoon's robe open with careful fingers, exposing the younger man's slender frame, pink nipples pebbled and cock half-hard against his thigh. The vulnerability made Hoon tremble, yet Gyub's gaze held only adoration, his fingers grazing Hoon's erection in a teasing stroke that drew a soft moan.

Gyub sank onto the nearby couch, legs spread invitingly, and patted his lap. "Come here, love." Hoon climbed on without hesitation, straddling Gyub's thighs, their bare chests meeting as Gyub's strong arms encircled his waist. Hoon's cock nestled against Gyub's through thin pants, the

Tender First Light