SSOYEON FIC ARCHIVE

"You can touch me, you know,"

Junmyeon hesitates, a multitude of thoughts rushing through his lust-addled brain as he rests his hands on Jongin's bared hips and he's running his thumbs over the rise of skin stretched over bone. He's done this before, he's not a virgin and moreover he's the one in control. Yet somehow all of this feels new, feels wrong: he feels incredibly apprehensive but double that incredible is Jongin's body and just about everything there is to the man, no, boy laid bare before him. He's legal Junmyeon chants to himself and his eyes rake over Jongin's chest, then Jongin's stomach. There are subtle rises and dips where his abdominal muscles are starting to show, no doubt from some dedication and consistency in the gym, and there's a line of soft hair halving Jongin's navel and leading down to his-- "God," Jongin rolls his eyes and Junmyeon might have felt terribly embarrassed if it isn't for the smile that accompanies the expression. A hand wraps around Junmyeon's wrist and guides his hand right onto Jongin's erect dick, a moan coming from both - Jongin because he's finally being touched and Junmyeon because the boy is so hard and heavy against his palm. "Touch me," Jongin urges again and there's a pleading note to his voice this time, one that makes Junmyeon's toes curl and he obliges, breathing as tentatively as if inhaling and exhaling means capital punishment and he begins to stroke Jongin from base to tip, trying the best he can to focus on getting him off properly. He's being paid one hundred and twenty five dollars an hour to do this. Two hundred, if Jongin gets an A.

***

Junmyeon can't say he has ever felt dislike towards Jongin. While he acknowledges that there are certain things about people who sleep around that is alluring, seductive and convenient, he can't say he really understands why the combination is so attractive. Weighing it up, it doesn't seem worth it, but then again he was the one who led the "STDs Abound! Protect Yourself!" campaign last year, so that might have been him being overly cautious since he's meant to be all about pro-really-really-really-really safe sex. Yet still, Jongin being Jongin is an unchangeable fact what with Jongin apparently having one hell of a little black book (in other words, he slept around. A lot.) and Junmyeon can't hardly get himself to forget.

Leave all baseless thoughts at the door, Junmyeon chides himself and he fixes his jacket blazer so it sits more perfectly around his shoulders before he realizes how ridiculous he is trying to appear presentable to a kid that probably wouldn't give two shits about whether Junmyeon's wearing a proper suit or a sixth grader's failed science project - baseless! Junmyeon reminds himself and he sighs, raising a hand to the button beside the door to press the bell for the fourth time. As his dorm's RA, student body president and Most Likely to Succeed three years running, Junmyeon's used to impartiality. Being a born natural at pacification, mediation and homely Spanish cooking means he'd been not only the best candidate for the aforementioned roles but the ideal one too, and Junmyeon still flushes when he remembers the college dean calling him "Suho" with the rest of the place following suit, from his teachers and peers to the handyman Junmyeon knows sleeps in the dorm's utility closet whenever he had an argument with his fiancée to the Meghan Ory look-alike who works the counter at the soy café. Whatever reputation preceded the students, Junmyeon is to ignore them and though it isn't usually a hard thing for him to do, Junmyeon had never really been faced with somebody as reportedly promiscuous and unshakeably over-confident as Jongin is. It's disconcerting in a way - not because Jongin has a kicking sex life, but because Junmyeon's previously flawless track record is faced with a potential shattering because of someone's choices, or really lack thereof, in sex partners. He dislikes the fact that he's becoming undone, and-- okay no, no. He's also definitely anxious about the fact that Jongin's meant to super-insanely good-looking and irresistible, and Junmyeon knows he doesn't find the idea of guys being attractive to him foreign or temporary (he had his moments of denial) any more, which means he's prone to succumbing. It certainly didn't help that he's been hired on as a private tutor, meaning Junmyeon's over at Jongin's parents' house waiting for the door to be opened so he could walk right into Jongin's bedroom, presumably, and teach him things like finding the area under a curve and organic chemistry, all while knowing Jongin-- "Hey," Junmyeon jumps, whips around. His reply would have been stammered if it had made it past his mouth, which it didn't, because the boy standing there is smiling like the Cheshire cat and Junmyeon is most definitely Alice what with how utterly lost he felt: this must be Jongin and no shitsimultaneously flash in the forefront of Junmyeon's mind and he finally brings himself together to smile politely, offer a hand.

"H-hello," Junmyeon manages. "I'm sorry, you must be Jongin?" "Yeah," Jongin loads his books to bunch in his left arm, freeing his right hand to give Junmyeon's a shake - his grip is firm and interested, none too flimsy like Junmyeon had been expecting. "Sorry, my teacher kept me in. I didn't hand in homework," And here is where Junmyeon imagines he might have sighed in exasperation if it isn't for the fact that everything about Jongin is putting Junmyeon in an excruciating, irritating position because all the rumours had been true. Jongin is very attractive. "That's okay! That's all about to change. Your parents... well, you know," Junmyeon's enthusiastic quip ends in a feeble grasp for words and Jongin smiles again - the edges of his eyes crinkle with it and Junmyeon is sure his self confidence by now has shrunk enough to fit into one of the laugh lines that inch out from the corners - before he motions for Junmyeon to get out of the way so he can get the door open. Obviously. Junmyeon mutters a hasty apology that he isn't even sure Jongin hears, taking his shoes off by the door and arranging them neatly there - a stark contrast to the way Jongin simply kicks his sneakers off. They land somewhere near the staircase and Junmyeon's pretty sure that's a broken clavicle waiting to happen but hell, it isn't his house and he shouldn't worry about such things. But he does, it bothers him and he tries to be discreet in putting Jongin's shoes by his own, Jongin himself laughing when he sees. "You care about that?" is what he says and Junmyeon's ears flame up in a red colour and he's ready to answer, talk about how dangerous it is and how a tidier house is a safer one, but Jongin's already disappearing off somewhere and Junmyeon's clearly to follow. "My parents are out," Jongin explains, Junmyeon finding himself in the kitchen within twenty steps from the front door. "They're kind of always. Explains the bad grades, if any," A laugh, and Jongin's opening the fridge, leaving Junmyeon with very little to do other than nod and observe. "Juice? What do you like drinking?" I hate myself. "I'm okay. I have water," Junmyeon tries to laugh, the sound awkward, and he pats his shoulder bag. Jongin's parents had been pretty vague about it but the subtext had been clear: Jongin needed tutoring across all his subjects and Junmyeon had his old study notes and books crammed up inside the thing, making it appear lumpy, but the presence of a bottle there is still distinct. Jongin looks and makes a slight shrug, suit yourself, before he pours himself a glass of orange juice and Junmyeon remains patient, standing, unsure as to where Jongin wants this whole tutoring session to play out. It's a short amount of time but in it Junmyeon's eyes dart from the unopened bag of chips on the otherwise spotless counter to the dishwasher, berating himself on how easily he had been to let Jongin's outward appearance get to him. Sure, it's an expectation met but Junmyeon's immediate endearment to the boy is a little ridiculous in his eyes, this is exactly what Jongin wants, he supposes, it's how he gets everyone else around his finger and Junmyeon refuses to be one with the majority. He's here to tutor him and get Jongin to pass his subjects with at least a B minus (Jongin's parents hadn't exactly been optimistic), and that's it. Then again, what's the harm in a little appreciation? the devil on Junmyeon's shoulder questions, and Junmyeon mentally bricks it over the head. "We should do this in my room," Jongin finally speaks, cutting through Junmyeon's thoughts like a knife and the older of the two finds himself jumping again. If he finds it amusing, Jongin doesn't express it and he guides Junmyeon up the stairs and into the first room on the left, with a pause to let Junmyeon know where the bathroom is, the extra gesture surprising Junmyeon because he'd really been anticipating a brash and ungrateful teenager. So far, looks aside, Jongin hasn't ticked all the boxes on the list Junmyeon had been given thanks to the rumour mill, and that means another niggling detail in Junmyeon's mind. It means Jongin's easier to accept, easier to respect, even, and the fact that he might actually be nicer and less arrogant than people say he is means Junmyeon knows he's more prone to developing a soft spot for the kid if not out of sympathy than out of some sort of protectiveness.

"Here," Jongin drags a chair over to join the one already by his desk, sitting in that one himself. His computer is on but Jongin doesn't so much as touch the keyboard, looking at Junmyeon expectantly and Junmyeon silently begs for him to say something stupid. "I probably should have cleaned up before you came but I-- ah, I dunno, I got lazy I guess," he laughs, again, an easy, lighthearted laugh,  and Junmyeon is seriously debating quitting on the spot on the grounds of emotional trauma. "You do that a lot, don't you? Zone out?"

"What?"

Jongin gives Junmyeon a pointed look.

Oh right.

"What do you want to start with?" Junmyeon sits in the proffered chair, putting his bag down carefully on the desk. He opens it to reveal the array, Chemistry, Physics, Wuthering Heights, Integrals 2.0. Jongin groans but he doesn't sound particularly against the idea and he jiggles his mouse so his computer screen comes to life and he opens up a word document. "This is my study plan. Or the one that the careers advisor gave me. I don't understand it, so... here you go," he explains as he turns the computer a bit so Junmyeon could see. A few seconds of silence, and Junmyeon nods in understanding, taking one of his notebooks out and flipping to a blank page. "Your highest grade right now is, well. Sports. You have a B+," "I like sports,"

"Of course," Junmyeon has to bite the inside of his cheek from smiling because Jongin is, like they're sharing an inside joke. "But it's not enough to get you into a good college, especially if you're slacking heavily in all your other subjects,"

"What's college like?" Jongin asks, all smiles and genuine interest. Junmyeon opens his mouth to answer, shutting it with a firm shake of his head.

"It's college. Now, maybe we should start with Emily Bronte? You have a quiz coming up next week, and it's important--,"

"Do you want me, hyung?" "What?" "I said, do you want me?" Jongin repeats, more seriously this time and Junmyeon thinks that he's concluded way too soon that Jongin's far more innocent than everyone had put him out to be because his tone is challenging subtly streaked through with cocky and Junmyeon wants to clock them both in the face. Jongin, for being so forward and out of bounds, and himself for being so stupid. "Jongin," he responds warningly. There are apparently no misunderstandings here, what with the way Jongin's looking at him like he knows Junmyeon finds him attractive and more so that Junmyeon's aware of his reputation. For a second, Junmyeon's afraid Jongin might try to kiss him but after a pause that seemed to stretch over a century or two, Jongin tears his eyes away and he nods, reaching into his own bag to extract his own copy of Wuthering Heights.  "Emily Bronte it is,"

***

"So how was it?" Kyungsoo asks, and there's a definite taunt to his voice. Junmyeon rolls his eyes, dumping his bag onto his bed before sprawling right beside it - it's seven pm, Junmyeon's spent three hours at Jongin's, and he's exasperated not to mention very slightly ... angry.  "Alright," Junmyeon answers simply. The rest of the session hadn't been at all bad, in fact it had gone as smooth as any tutoring session should, but the glint in Jongin's eyes whenever he so much as took a second-long glimpse of Junmyeon had been enough to communicate what the boy thinks of him. It had all been very assuming, Junmyeon thinks now, but he realizes it's too late to start berating the kid - for starters, he's not even with Jongin anymore and moreover it would show that Junmyeon had to think about it before he told Jongin off. "Just alright," his best friend muses, stirring the noodles around in his stupid ramen cup, and he's smiling like he knows exactly what Junmyeon had gone through. It doesn't help that they both know Junmyeon's feathers are easily ruffled in the presence of boys and girls exactly like Jongin, and Junmyeon hates it. "That says more than enough, not to mention those armpits stains,"

"Wh-- armpit? No, but I-- asshole," Junmyeon's mouth fails to work properly, almost falling for it when he sits up and makes the move to check his shirt, much to Kyungsoo's barely hidden delight. "Don't curse your new antiperspirant now, Suho. Blame your lack of social grace when it comes to the hot, young ones," "You make me sound like a pervert," "Well... that's because you kind of are? Remember that time--," "That was once. You make it sound like I made a routine out of it," "So my point is.... how was it? Really. Give me a serious answer, you didn't have sex with him, did you?" Junmyeon gives him a very pointed look. "I was gonna say," Kyungsoo continues slowly, treading more carefully now. "You don't look like you got thrashed or anything," "Kyungsoo, please," Junmyeon blushes at the implication. "So what happened? You look really beat. For real," "Nothing? He was-- you know, Jongin?" Junmyeon knows his explanation is flimsy (Kyungsoo's eye roll unneeded) but he doesn't even know what to think of it all other than the fact that he might have doomed himself by accepting to be Jongin's tutor. His resistance to these kinds of things is generally okay, but something about the fact that he isn't trying to side-step an offer at a college party means the whole situation is apples and oranges to what he's used to getting. "He's kind of... everything you expect," "Difficult?" Kyungsoo tries with another laugh that sounds like grating to Junmyeon's ears. "Young? Handsome? Sexy? Available?" Oh for God's sake. "All of the above?" Junmyeon figures it's better to go with the truth now than let Kyungsoo have it out with him later on if the situation only worsened. "Christ, he's still in high school," "I already said 'young'," Kyungsoo is falsely sweet and soothing, sitting beside Junmyeon on the latter's bed after making sure to put his cup of noodles aside so Junmyeon wouldn't start strangling him. "But what does this all mean if you admit this, are you going to...?"

As out of line as Jongin had been, right now is where Junmyeon stops and, for some reason, feels bad. "Strippers have feelings too!" is what pops up in his mind like a neon sign and he's poised to tell Kyungsoo off, like they shouldn't straight-up assume that Jongin is going to be that easy and that anybody coming within a five foot radius of him must want to have something to do with him, and that Jongin would always be more than willing to accept that. Junmyeon suddenly feels sore at the chest. "No? I don't do these things, you know that," "You mean have a sex life? Yeah, I know," Junmyeon gives him a withering look and Kyungsoo puts both hands up with finality.

***

The fact that the sessions only run once a week helped - two come exam period, but that isn't until a month and a half away. "Helped" strictly meaning that it eased some of the pressure over Junmyeon's thoughts but he couldn't get himself relaxed, no matter how hard he tries. Admittedly, he has so little to go on that it's obvious he's over-thinking, because Jongin might never actually try to ask him again and might never look at him the same way the second time around, because really who had the energy to be that way all the time? He would get tired at some point, Junmyeon reasons, and he wonders why he needs to reassure himself such - that is to say, if Jongin didn't stop, would Junmyeon stop himself and be the one to give in? It's ridiculous, he thinks, that after emerging regret and sexual-baggage-free from fifty-eight parties and six club-hopping night-outs over the course of his life (yes, he'd kept track - he maybe keeps a diary too), he would be the kind to lose his mind over something that's meant to be professional. Maybe it has been too long, is what Junmyeon ponders as he begins the slow walk up the hill back to the college gates. Wednesday evenings means he lent a hand to the local kindergarten's after-school care program, and although he had to clean up after a kid threw up by the sandbox, nothing provided an adequate distraction from Junmyeon's brain going into overdrive because of Jongin. The thing is, he knows he's being stupid: it wasn't like Jongin had been all over him, and Junmyeon is here acting like the boy is an ongoing offer. And Junmyeon feels terrible for it, because though he'd seen first-hand how overtly provocative Jongin is - no, could be - Junmyeon wants to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's meant to be all fairness and open arms, sagacious and unassuming. It wouldn't be surprising if Jongin turns out to be capable of being sensible for three hours, because Junmyeon knows as well as anybody else that people wore masks more often than they might readily admit, Junmyeon being one of them. Because Kyungsoo was right, he needs to loosen up and listen to that part of him that yells at him over and over that hooking up every now and then won't ever get around to hurting his reputation because he's human and humans need that sort of thing, and that in turn means for Junmyeon that it is highly probable that Jongin might only be putting an act on. Junmyeon is vastly experienced in that area of living to people's expectations, and-- "Hyung," a push against Junmyeon's shoulder and he's already leaping out of his skin and almost pressing himself into the safety of the brick wall nearby - that is, until Junmyeon sees who it is and he remembers how to breathe again, clutching at his chest like his heart had flown out of his ribcage. Jongin.  "Jongin!" Junmyeon exclaims, a bit too loud and Jongin flinches and looks around. Junmyeon does so too, flattening his tie down against his shirt repeatedly in a gesture that appears compulsive to some, but actually gives the man great comfort. "Wh-- what are you doing here? I'm not meant to see you until ne--," "Next week, I know," Jongin's cheeks are red about the apples like he'd been running. "But I wanted to talk to you," "Now?" Junmyeon sounds breathless, ready to blame the unfortunate incline of the road leading up to his college. "S...ure, what is it?"

"Well last time, you know, last time?" Jongin's stumbling over words and Junmyeon is torn between telling him to cut the act and something else he won't admit to. "I'm sorry. I was being stupid," Junmyeon wonders if things are getting lost in translation. Jongin hadn't exactly been bright during the time Junmyeon had attempting telling him about derivative basics, and they'd had to go over it about five times, so it's as likely Jongin's apologizing for that as he is about his suggestiveness. Either way. "It's okay," Junmyeon knows some of the passing students are watching them: they're big presences in their respective school communities, he knows. "Next time you'll be better," "I really do want to pass my subjects," "I know, Jongin," Junmyeon smiles warmly, a tiny bit unnerved that he's still not entirely sure which part of the session Jongin is saying sorry for. "We'll both do our best, hm?" "I will," With that done, a few seconds of awkwardness floats between them. Junmyeon stops playing with his tie and notices Jongin's got a habit of his own, wringing at the strap of his shoulder bag, and as the older of the two he laughs and reaches out to pat at Jongin's hand in a stop that gesture. "Go home and do the things I told you to," Jongin nods, stops wringing with a smile. "Alright."

***

As it happens, session number three is when bad news begin spelling themselves for Junmyeon. Week two had gone without a hitch: Jongin really hadn't given him those stares any more, and neither of them mentioned gave each other knowing looks when Jongin's phone had gone off one too many times. And when Kyungsoo asked Junmyeon about it, he'd finally been able to answer properly with things like "he's a good kid, a bit slow, but he's alright", and Kyungsoo hadn't found anything off in Junmyeon's demeanour to piss on. It had left Junmyeon in a strangely cheerful mood like he'd leapt over an impossibly large and ominous chasm, and he goes around for the third time thinking about the benefit he's co-hosting, and how he's going to need palm cards and fashion tape. All in all, Jongin's apology had alleviated a hell of a lot. "Hey," Junmyeon jumps and thinks movies might not be so fictitious after all with how he moves out of Jongin's way again, much to his own chagrin at the boy laughing at him as he opens the door and they step through together. "Before you ask," Jongin starts when they're going up the stairs. "School was okay. I went to school," Another laugh, they set their things down and Junmyeon takes a few things out of his bag when he replies. "So you didn't skip the  part where the doctor came around to give you all a speech about safe sex?" "Okay maybe minus that part," Jongin admits, a grin stretched across his face and Junmyeon finds himself blushing. It's not the first time and Junmyeon accepts this. Jongin's attractive, that's it. "And also the thing where the fireman came and talked about drink-driving," "So that means you went to half your school day," Junmyeon tries not to sound so disapproving and parent-like but he can't help it. He can't help but smile either at how easy-going Jongin is, and they portion an hour to a subject of Jongin's choice, with the occasional interspersion of Junmyeon asking him about random things he's learning about - just to trip Jongin up. And maybe Junmyeon likes flustering the kid too much because he's doing it more often and more randomly as the time passes, and soon Jongin's whining and throwing his hands up in defeat. "Stop doing that, hyung!"

"Ha," Junmyeon says, triumphant. "So you didn't read the article I told you to. It's very interesting!" Jongin gives him a look that Junmyeon thinks can easily rival the kind one of his other friends, Luhan, gives him sometimes. "It'll help you next semester more than now, but if you had the time...," he cajoles, smiling as he wheeled his chair closer to Jongin's. The wheels at the bottom bump against Jongin's foot - they both notice, and say nothing. "... now would be a good time to start. Good grades don't come easily, you have to think outside the box with your study methods," "That's what my parents say," Jongin adds. Up until now, and it isn't like he's been with this for too long, Junmyeon's only caught a glimpse of Jongin's mother. She's busy but attentive to Jongin when she's around, so he isn't worried about family problems being the root of Jongin's purported sexual behaviour. Purported, because Junmyeon's still aiming for complete judiciousness or at least indifference to that particular fact. Don't think about it. You've been doing a great job so far.  "Read it now then," Junmyeon nods at Jongin's running computer. "I need to do some things anyway," "Aren't my parents paying you for teaching me?" Jongin questions suspiciously but he doesn't say more, the inklings of a toothy smile at his face before he turns to face the screen, typing in the web address Junmyeon had written out for him in his school diary. As Jongin reads, Junmyeon's cursing himself because the thoughts are starting up again. It certainly doesn't help his situation at all that Jongin's mostly oblivious by now - either that or he's ridiculously good at acting, but Junmyeon doubts it because Jongin's as prone to blushing as he is. It's not entirely uncharacteristic, Junmyeon being so back-and-forth about things because as outwardly confident as he is, he thinks things over some million and two times before making the decision. He's in possession of a very thorough thinking process, and sometimes Junmyeon hates it. And right now, he's most definitely thinking about Jongin. What did he do when he'd skipped those guest speaker talks about safe sex and drink driving? Where had Jongin gone if he hadn't been stationed in the auditorium, looking at PowerPoint slides of contraceptive options and Hondas wrapped around trees and street lights? Did he hook up in the boy's toilet near the science block, like so many people said he did in his spare time, especially after school? Junmyeon finds this all plausible yet somehow not because Jongin's been so solicitous, and annoyingly enough it's Junmyeon who's thinking dirty. It's hard not to think about Jongin working at someone with his hands and his mouth, whether it's a guy or a girl, there's knowing, obscene flicks of Jongin's tongue around and on skin to groans of approval and Jongin's eyes glinting with desire. It's really, really,really hard not to imagine it so vividly when Jongin's right there with his too-large black t-shirt and the basketball shorts Junmyeon is pretty sure Jongin's not meant to keep after sports lessons, but there it is. Indecent images and counter-arguments race in a disorganized symphony through Junmyeon's mind and he almost forces himself face-first into his organizer to stop them, Jongin reading at something of a snail's pace (for which Junmyeon is insanely grateful for) through the article on the era of Romantic poets. "So why do I need to learn about Romanticism again?" Thankfully this time, Junmyeon's reacting mechanisms spare him from jumping. "Because you'll be more learned," Junmyeon answers, voice cracking at the end. Jongin doesn't notice however and keeps scrolling, reading,actually reading, because Junmyeon can see his eyes go from right to left, skip down, right to left again. "But nobody's going to ask me about this sort of stuff," Jongin rattles on after a short pause. "Right?" "Jongin," the reply is testy, and Jongin takes note. "Are you stressed, hyung?" "Stressed?" Junmyeon almost spits, like he can't believe it, like it's impossible. He's red at the neck and he's sure Jongin can see, staring down at his organizer at the flyer for the benefit - Minseok had designed it, Junmyeon commissioning him, and it had turned out impeccable - when he tries to find a way to elaborate, dispel Jongin's concerns, but he can't because he is, it's a natural state for him. So he ends up admitting to it: "a little," Jongin only nods. "Have you gotten to the part about Samuel Taylor Coleridge yet?"  Junmyeon shuts his organizer and leans in again, his voice sounding hollow.

***

Junmyeon takes a shower that night thinking he might be going about all this the wrong way. He's annoyed because the week between the two had been fine... and week one had only contained a speck of disaster, really, so he rationalizes then that the stress is really getting to him and the only available time he had to unwind is actually when he's tutoring Jongin. Hence. Don't unload it on the kid, Junmyeon's inner voice chides, and the man himself sighs out loud as he rests his forehead against the cool tile of the shower walls. Tomorrow morning, he has to read the morning announcements and check on the soirée committee both before his first class. There's an orientation for international students from 10 AM to 12 noon that Junmyeon had signed up to attend for appearance's sake, after which he has two classes, a lecture, and then he's got a meeting with the careers advisor. All up, he's busy until 5 PM, about ninety percent sure he has a study group at six in the dining hall, which usually ended up in drinks at the student guild bar (an initiative conjured up by a girl not unlike Junmyeon a few years back to (A) curb the amount of drunk students ending up in gutters in the city's clubbing district and effectively tarnishing the college reputation and (B) to lower the risk of sexual/ assaults since it's on campus and that means more attentive security guards rather than the surly bouncer), and Junmyeon believes he won't get to sleep until well into the night. Maybe midnight, maybe before if Junmyeon's feeling particularly stern, which he doubts, because he can never turn people down. He thinks about Jongin again, about Jongin's spirited eyes and skin that seems to glow from within, probably from being so active with the sports. He looks like he runs around a lot, hair always askew, sweat clinging to the back of his neck - not that Junmyeon had looked too much. And how when Jongin had asked him if he'd been stressed, he seemed solemn and bothered almost, and Junmyeon finds himself stuck on the minor detail of Jongin having asked him whether he's stressed rather than how college is holding up for him, in general, which is the way most people go about it. Stop. Junmyeon knows exactly where such thoughts lead and he doesn't especially want to go there because it would hurt. Jongin's probably used to getting people pining after him, wanting him to pay attention to them at all times, merely because his undivided attention is so hard to acquire and maintain. And if Jongin's reputation is anything to go by, and Junmyeon by now believes it probably is enough (mainly because it'll put him off... hopefully), Jongin hardly, if ever, dishes out this sort of commitment. So it's important that Junmyeon doesn't even begin to try and fight for it but it's difficult when he's stuck, alone, with the kid, and it's the only time Junmyeon can ever feel like his head isn't doing itself in with responsibilities. Hard indeed, because now Junmyeon's thinking about holding him and letting him know everything. Jongin's bed had been messy and strewn over with magazines and the cases of various X-Box games the past three times but Junmyeon, though usually uptight about the state of beds, thinks reluctantly he wouldn't mind if the corner of the metal tin of Magic cards is digging into his perpetually sore lower back from poor laptop posture. Especially not if Jongin's kissing him and giving him calming rubs on the arm and over his left hip, one of Junmyeon's more sensitive places. No, he really wouldn't mind that at all.

***

Junmyeon thinks he should really quit. Terminate the tutorship before he started doing things, but his defiance in the face of his own weakness is what keeps him just in check. He can do this, he's strong enough, and he's done it before. Junmyeon's groin hurt thinking about it sometimes, but Jongin wouldn't be the first temptation that Junmyeon has overcome, not with Junmyeon's prestige and slick good-looks, and he sits there half watching Jongin as his student clicked his ballpoint pen incessantly while reading up on melting and boiling properties. The boy's rubbed his eyes a few times and Junmyeon bumps a hand at the button below the screen to turn it off. Jongin gives him a questioning look and Junmyeon reaches into his bag, producing a tiny bottle of eye drops. "You might want to try this," "My eyes--," Jongin stops, leans in to read the label. "I'm fine, hyung. Really, I'm just tired today," Junmyeon shakes his head, not at all insistent, but stern. "You could still use some. Your eyes are red about the edges,"

Jongin bites into his lip out of habit as it then dawns on Junmyeon that his statement suggests he's been looking at Jongin enough to know, but he tries not think about that as Jongin begrudgingly takes it - their fingers brush, of course - and disappears into the tiny bathroom he calls his own off an open doorway near his closet. "You look like you're the one who needs them more though," Jongin suggests when he returns, and his eyes have a nice, watery sheen over them, the light catching off of it when he sits down. "And maybe an Adderall or two," Junmyeon rolls his eyes but he smiles at the small joke.  "I don't use those," "I'd hope not," "And you're very proper, Jongin," "Wasn't I always?" For a moment, Junmyeon's horrified that maybe he's offended Jongin until he notices the kid is smiling. "But I do know a few people who, you know, deal it--,"

Now Junmyeon's really horrified and he swats at Jongin's arm with a mock-up of the college's yearbook draft. "Don't tell me that, I'll be obliged to play informant and I don't want to expose your friends," "I'm actually surprised you aren't twisting my arm and interrogating me right now," Jongin grins and he rubs at his eyes with the palm of his hand. It's raining outside, the breeze making it all that much chillier and tree branches bang against Jongin's window. "But I could just say I was joking, I guess," "That won't help," "It won't?," Jongin's eyes do that lighting up thing again and Junmyeon wants to punch himself in the face. "Damn. Do I get some leeway because I'm your student?" Leeway Junmyeon scoffs mentally as he thinks about how positively torturous this all is. "Nope. You're going straight to the nurse's office to pee in a cup for the principal," "I don't need them, you see! I only know," "Oh please," A pause and Jongin's scratching at his arm from over the long sleeve of his striped shirt, all awkwardness. "So what do you want me to do instead? If you don't want me to read," "I just don't think you should be looking at the screen any longer. Get cracking on your punnet squares or something, they're too easy," "Then why should I do them?" Jongin tussles to get his biology notebook free and Junmyeon can spot a bag of uneaten Doritos in there. "To be more learned?"

"Exactly," Junmyeon affirms with a disarming smile. Jongin rolls his eyes, but he uncaps his pen and gets started. His writing, Junmyeon has since found out, is spiky and never straight, even when he's using lined paper, so Junmyeon hands him a ruler so his squares don't come out looking like tumbleweed or Chewbacca. "Thanks," Jongin mutters and the older of the two takes the time to check how long they still had to go - they're only halfway and he puts his phone away with a sigh disguised as a clearing of his throat. The nearing of one of the due dates of his own assignments means Junmyeon's slightly on edge, usually okay with sitting tight while Jongin worked, but presently he feels like he needs, needs, needs to finalize his conclusion. Sure, he has the print out of his fifth draft propped in his lap on top of the yearbook, but he finds himself unable to concentrate with just a pen and a highlighter. He needs his textbooks, his sources, all of which he'd astutely left back in the room he and Kyungsoo shared at his college. So he's left scribbling in the margins to make the corrections, writing notes to himself to check page fifty eight in chapter three when he gets to it. He becomes so immersed he forgets about Jongin, who's staring at him when Junmyeon finally looks up. "W- Jesus, Jongin, you almost... what is it?" Junmyeon runs a hand through his hair, flustered, noting the ink on the side of Jongin's hand with a small smile at the corner of his lips. "Are you having trouble? Show me," "Not really," Jongin closes his book, recaps his pen, spins his chair around to face Junmyeon properly, who all of a sudden feels terribly nervous. His thoughts from that shower return to him in waves and Junmyeon swears he has the worst brain in the face of the Earth, if not the worst timing. "I was thinking about you. You really do look stressed, hyung," "I... well, you know, being student president is very hard work," Being me is very hard work. Jongin nods like he understands while knowing he can't possibly and he checks the time too, on his phone. "We can do something? Studying like this isn't going to help," "Studying helps," Junmyeon corrects but his voice is puny and bad even to his own ears. "You said you wanted to pass," "I'm going to, but I also don't like seeing you grow old before my very eyes," Jongin jests and Junmyeon almost smarts him with another thwack with the yearbook. "Come on, I can make you something to eat and we can swim in my pool," "It's raining," is the obvious objection. "Hard. I don't want to get sick, I have three assignments due," Jongin stops. Thinks. "I could still make you something? You can help me," For some reason, Junmyeon is chuckling. He's laughing because he finds it kind of unbelievable that Kim Jongin of all people would offer to fix him something to eat, especially when Junmyeon hardly did that himself, and also because he's too damn attracted to Jongin by now, whether he was thinking about it actively or not. "You could. Or you could stay here and study. Your report card will thank you for it, as will your future," Jongin's expression falls flat. "Is this what you do to yourself? Like... is that how you got to where you are right now?" Junmyeon nods, choosing to ignore the edge to Jongin's voice. "It works, doesn't it? I'm successful," "Academically and all that yes," "Also socially," Jongin frowns some more. He's stationed between Junmyeon and the door now. "But you have to have fun sometimes," Jongin reasons and something about the way he says it pricks at Junmyeon. "Otherwise you're not really living," "I'm living quite fine, actually," Junmyeon says,  vexed. "It isn't so bad, Jongin," "But you're stressed, hyung. You always are, when I see you," "Stress is a sign you've got a lot on your plate, but not necessarily that what you're doing is having a negative effect on your life," "Maybe not," the boy argues, indignant, and Junmyeon's eyes are very slightly narrowed as he waiting for Jongin to go on but it never comes. Instead, Jongin returns to his seat and picks his pen up again. "But okay. I'll do this. For you, hyung,"

***

"Maybe you've got too much going on," Minseok suggests. "You've got all this college stuff, and then you have to tutor that kid," "I'll never know how you manage," Kyungsoo adds on, and Junmyeon's grateful neither of them sound patronizing, otherwise he might have flipped a finger at them what with his temper being so short. Beep-beep! "That's the thermometer," Chanyeol chirrups. "Hand it over, buddy," Junmyeon groans and reaches for the thermometer stick wedged in his armpit: handing it out from being cocooned in his duvet feels like a chore and Chanyeol's energy in swiping the thing off of him makes Junmyeon groan at how it makes his head pound some more. "Thirty-nine degrees... er, Celsius," Chanyeol reads, and there's a collective nod that Junmyeon's definitely got a fever and better keep him in bed.Minseok moves forward with the damp towel, ready to coddle Junmyeon for the fifth time in the hour and as nice as it feels Junmyeon kind of just wants to be left alone. "So what stuff do I have to cancel for you again?" Chanyeol asks and this time he has his iPhone out - the screen had a giant crack over it ever since Chanyeol's sister had stepped on it in revenge for Chanyeol reading her blog posts at the college's March Poetry Slam, and Junmyeon idly wonders when he had ever assigned Chanyeol to being his personal secretary. "And do I really have to track this Jongin down to tell him you're sick and you never want to see him again because he's so hot?" "I never said that," Junmyeon hisses but even Minseok smiles as he's going to the bathroom to wring the towel out. "Just... just get his number from my phone and send him a text. I'll give him an extra session the coming week, like on Tuesday or something," "Session. Session," Chanyeol sing-songs and Junmyeon can barely keep his eyes open let alone glare at him, so he leaves that to Kyungsoo, reliable, though sarcastic Kyungsoo, and sure enough his best friend bats Chanyeol over the head with a none-too-merciful hand. "I'll tell him after dinner," he volunteers, and with that they file out of the tiny rectangle Junmyeon calls a room, Minseok leaving a fresh towel by his head which Junmyeon simply faceplants in when the lights are out and they're finally gone. It's just his luck, he thinks, especially after he'd told Jongin that the stress didn't mean negative effects and now Jongin's going to have some leverage over him the next time they speak. "It still doesn't mean stress equals bad things," Junmyeon can hear himself arguing. "It's a side effect of stress," and Jongin would roll his eyes like he always did before saying something witty and maybe slightly tangential. Jongin, Junmyeon repeats and he thinks he mumbles it aloud too, but only the towel hears it. Their previous time together had ended on the same quiet note that had struck up ever since Jongin had pointed out Junmyeon's pallor and whether he should let Jongin cook for him, which Junmyeon would have greatly loved, but his rejection had been done so in wanting to draw a line. He's a tutor, not a friend: crossing that line means trouble, and as much as it pains Junmyeon whenever he thinks about how Jongin's face had fallen, in the long run it's much better for them both this way. Or at least, better for Junmyeon, but he guesses Jongin has something to gain out of it too because then he won't slack on his studying after receiving some false impression that because Junmyeon shares a joke or a donut with him it means he'll forgive him for not reading the footnotes of the study-helper Junmyeon had given him for that Emily Brontë book. Dammit, Jongin, and then Junmyeon's body sinks into the arms of repose.

***

Junmyeon's extra apologetic when they meet again on a bleary Tuesday. The raining has yet to cease and there's a cover over Jongin's pool - Junmyeon can see the green colour of it reflected onto the window. He knows it would be far less awkward than this if Jongin isn't so terse for some reason and Junmyeon decides there that he feels horrible for turning him down even if it went against his I'm just a tutor policy, because anything is better than lecturing a quietly pissed Jongin on bacteria, apparently. "You know if you want me to leave you alone, you could reimburse me for time, well... another time," Junmyeon puts his notes down. Jongin's phone vibrates for the sixth time and Junmyeon almost asks if he's got a girlfriend - or boyfriend, whatever. "I don't exactly want to push you if you're not feeling well," Jongin doesn't answer right away and his lower lip is jutting out in a small pout. He's unhappy, Junmyeon understands that. "But this is what you'd do. You'd keep going even if you were annoyed," "Yes, but--," "So let's keep going," Jongin doesn't touch his phone that keeps going off. "I want to be like you," Somehow, when Jongin puts it that way, Junmyeon feels a tiny bit ashamed at how stubborn it comes off. And when Jongin's phone almost falls off the desk from vibrating, Junmyeon catches it without so much as an invasive look at the screen. "Maybe you should answer this," he very lightly proposes, and Jongin shakes his head vigorously. "Someone wants me to go to a dumb party," Junmyeon smiles at that. Dumb party? "They want me there because it'll get more people to come," Jongin adds on, eyes mad and furtive when they regard Junmyeon. "But I don't want to go," "Did you tell them that?" "Obviously. But they're still trying to get me to come and I hate it," Junmyeon's chest feels tight again, like he wants to hug Jongin because the boy's tone is so giving as to the implications behind his words. For the millionth time, Junmyeon thinks about Jongin and public toilets, Jongin and little rooms backstage at the local concerts, Jongin and... everyone, and he slaps himself for it in his head. "Turn off your phone then, and we'll get back to work," Jongin nods and does so. Holds the power button down and tosses his phone aside onto the floor (Junmyeon winces when it meets the floorboards). The silence following isn't so tense any more and the sheets of rain coming down provide a refreshing change to the sounds of Jongin scribbling on his books and Junmyeon turning the pages of some book or another, the time passing and before Junmyeon knows it, it's over and his own phone goes off to signal it. "Already?" Jongin sounds disappointed and Junmyeon tries not to take it to heart. Simply nodding, he gathers all his things up, putting them away into the right places in his bag to watchful eyes. And all of a sudden, Junmyeon feels incredibly nervous and anticipating, like there's definitely something in the air now, a certain buzz, and he wants to get out of there as quick as possible. "Well... did you bring an umbrella, hyung?" Jongin gets up and Junmyeon curses no, no: no to Jongin standing, not no to the umbrella - Junmyeon's too cautious for that, and he nods, barely looking at Jongin. "It's still raining really hard, are you sure you want to go? You can stay a little longer if you want," "No, I have something to get to," Jongin's face does that thing again. It falls, giving him the appearance of a lost puppy, like he doesn't know what to do now that Junmyeon's going to be gone. "A meeting," Junmyeon makes up, hoping he sounded convincing because his face sure isn't. "I really need to get to it," "Be careful, then," Jongin trails Junmyeon all the way down the stairs and to the door, like a good host, Junmyeon supposes, as he puts his things down to get his shoes on. "It's supposed to be really windy," "I will, Jongin," There's another one of those pauses and Junmyeon stops trying to find his shoes to look at Jongin, who keeps looking at him. He's surprised at how much darker the bags under Jongin's eyes are now, and he almost reaches out to stroke over them. "Maybe you should get take a nap," Junmyeon utters, still going very slow with the shoes, and he's about to say more but Jongin's shuffling in, leaning close and doing all the kinds of things Junmyeon has wanted (yet not wanted) him to do, like hold Junmyeon's gaze with his own unwavering one. Junmyeon can see his reflection in them, he's staring so hard. "I didn't want to go to the party because I was kind of planning to be with you," Jongin confesses and Junmyeon has imagined how this would go down a thousand times before, but he never would have given Jongin a slight quiver in his voice. Junmyeon wants to laugh again, mostly out of incredulousness, because part of him feels like this is a cheap joke, that this is Jongin trying to get something without needing to go to the party, and because all of him knows he wants Jongin so badly it hurts and he would inevitably regret it with his entire being if he said no. He's already hurting because he knows he's going to say no, he's rehearsed this ever since lesson three when Junmyeon had a discernable buzz between them both. He has to say no because he's Jongin's tutor, not his... whatever Jongin thinks he is. "I--," "I can't," Junmyeon hastily interrupts Jongin, who doesn't so much as pull away. Junmyeon can feel his chest caving from the pressure of being so close so he does it instead, moving a step back until he realizes the front door is there and there's rain hurtling against the other side of it like bullets, as if he couldn't be more trapped. He tries to come up with something firm and decisive but nothing comes, and the silence is actually excruciating. "Because you have a meeting?" Jongin - at last -  finishes for him, and Junmyeon nods a bit too frantically, giving himself away. "Yes," he sounds breathless when he speaks and it's probably because Jongin's about to kiss him. So now they're kissing.

Or at least, their lips are touching, and Jongin's kissing him but Junmyeon's rooted to the spot, paralysed. He's kissed before, he's not new to the concept of someone's mouth on his, but suddenly it feels like he's in eighth grade and everyone's talking about it, about how great it feels and how he must try it on the first girl he sees. Which is exactly what he did. Eighth grade Junmyeon isn't exactly one of his best achievements. That first kiss had nothing on this though, Junmyeon's first kiss with Jongin. Jongin is strong and assertive, unconvincing but only because he's demanding with it. He isn't trying to persuade Junmyeon with licks of his tongue over the small space between Junmyeon's lips, urging them to part - he's telling Junmyeon he has no choice but to stay here and let him do this and, against Junmyeon's better judgement and the weeks of reiteratingI'm just his tutor, Junmyeon does. He grabs Jongin by the shoulders for leverage, massaging along them, hands winding around to run over taut shoulderblades and down the front again to trace down sculpted torso. He's more handsy than Jongin is and all of it successfully produces a groan, then another, and Junmyeon's revelling inside when he's found a spot down Jongin's side that's gets those sounds Jongin makes more gravelled and needier. Doorways are unideal, especially when there's a bed to be had but the trip upstairs has Junmyeon stumbling more times than he ever had before, even when he'd been tipsy, because Jongin keeps trying to kiss him and he's doing his best to reciprocate, and when they finally make it to the damn bed Junmyeon's shirt is half off and Jongin's topless, clothes strewn on their path over. The boy helps him off with the rest of his shirt, having it semi-unbuttoned and pulling it off. Junmyeon who might have complained about ruining the shirt seams if it isn't for the fact that Jongin's then working on his belt buckle, stripping Junmyeon down bare with obvious familiarity that Junmyeon does little to question, not when he's in bed with Jongin and he's about to be naked with him too. "You can touch me, you know," It isn't either that Junmyeon's never done anything with anybody in bed. Naked. But there's a lot to take in from Jongin's tousled hair to his wanting eyes, full lips that are sinful to kiss and Junmyeon's running out of adjectives but Jongin's ridiculously fucking hot right down to the untidy mess that's the hair around his groin. Junmyeon thinks of course he has a happy trail, because Junmyeon's always had a weak spot for those. His strokes on Jongin's dick start off much too slow. He likes having the cusp of Jongin's pleasure in his palm, literally, likes hearing Jongin whine and kick around a bit when Junmyeon's teasing becomes obvious. With their lips locked, it's harder for Jongin to object, so his hands are scrabbling down Junmyeon's bare arms, marking the skin with brief streaks of red and pink and at some point his hands nick against a nipple and then it's Junmyeon's who's gasping, Jongin taking full advantage of it and tweaking at the bud until it hardened between his thumb and forefinger. They're all over the place, nothing sequential about it because to either of them there's too much to feel, see and hear all at once but they're physically incapable of touching in all those places at the one time - Junmyeon's torn between where to kiss first down Jongin's beautifully tan skin, so he starts form the top of his neck, right near Jongin's jaw, and he goes down with hasty pecks that leave a wet spot wherever they go because he wants to taste and feel the thrum of heat purring beneath Jongin's skin on his tongue. "Hyung," Jongin's breathing has long since spiked into heavy panting. "Hyung, I need-- GodINeedYou," "Wait," is what Junmyeon instructs, and he can't help but pause to admire the restless desperation that spelled over Jongin's entire body when his mouth presses over the smooth skin of Jongin's ass, breath trickling into the cleft, a tease that Junmyeon immediately follows up on with his hands spreading Jongin's cheeks apart. It takes little more than his tongue over pinched skin for Jongin to tense up only to become boneless again, toes curling against the bedsheets and it's insufficient for Junmyeon who wants to see more, boldly pushing his tongue past tightly wound muscles into Jongin and the taste is absurdly addictive; he's slicking Jongin down with repeated slips of his tongue there and he mightn't have stopped if it isn't for Jongin tugging at his hair with the kind of voracity Junmyeon can only respond to with the obvious. Junmyeon doesn't have a condom, but Jongin does. He's shaking when he rolls it onto Junmyeon's erection, receiving a kiss as thanks and Jongin whimpers again, like he can't help it as Junmyeon's hands run down over his hips (thumb rubbing liberally over that spot), soothing, like he's telling Jongin good boy, now lay still. Preparation and lube, Junmyeon finds, are two things Jongin doesn't welcome but Junmyeon had known he'd be more conscious about safety from the beginning. Even so it doesn't prevent him from going at it a little too hurriedly, nails accidentally catching on Jongin's walls and making the boy keen and buck in pain, but Jongin's working with him for the most part. By the time Junmyeon feels that Jongin's definitely ready, they're both a collection of laboured pants and wrought muscles, their arousal the only thing holding them together as Junmyeon's cock is sinking into Jongin's ass, Jongin tensing beneath and around him, having them both groan because it feels amazing and there's nothing about this that's wrong to Junmyeon anymore. The initial tightness is inevitable but they're both fast to overcome, each roll of their hips having Jongin become more pliant. There's something about this that feels weirdly emotional (or maybe that's just Junmyeon) because they're more tactfully chasing their climax than reckless in having them both come undone as fast as possible, and Junmyeon painfully thinks that this is what it feels like to be making love. Every kiss leaves their lips chapped and hot, and Junmyeon's sucked a streak of red right above Jongin's upper lip, an addition Junmyeon doesn't regret, and at the sound of Jongin losing his breath to a moan, Junmyeon braces his knees better against the bed and thrusts harder, deeper. Jongin's eyes are searching when they meet Junmyeon's again, the former's fingers tangled through his hair and Junmyeon relinquishes with another kiss, one that's by contrast tender to the way he's grunting with the mounting pleasure in his system, bed creaking, Jongin rising off the bed to receive more. It's unfair, Junmyeon thinks, that he's the one feeling this way when he's in control, until he realizes how dumb the correlation is when Jongin's saying something in his ear, voice clipped and breathless, "about to come", and then Junmyeon can't think about anything else. He's got his fingers wrapped tight around Jongin's cock again, strokes as rapid as the snap of his hips as he buries himself into Jongin, and maybe a bit too vicious when he comes to his own peak. His exhales chop up the slurs of Jongin's name when Junmyeon repeats it against the boy's neck, filling the condom as Jongin emptied himself out in streaks that spill over his abdomen - and then they're both thoroughly spent. "Good," Junmyeon sighs when he has enough strength to speak. "That was good," He doesn't know whether to get himself off Jongin, whether Jongin likes his weight. And since the boy doesn't comment, Junmyeon settles for staying right there. "You sound like you're grading me," Jongin wearing a smirk as he runs a  hand through Junmyeon's damp hair, a welcome touch that Junmyeon leans into for more. "Are you?" "No," Junmyeon sounds offended when he retorts and Jongin laughs his annoyingly irresistible laugh. Junmyeon thinks he could go for another round, right then and there. "So you have a meeting to go to, right?" He'd make Jongin ride him this time. Work for it a little. "Sure," Junmyeon replies, voice smooth as butter. He removes the condom slowly, careful, and when that's disposed of, he goes back to the bed nudging at Jongin's thigh with his foot when he clambers on again. Jongin grins and extends his arms for a hug that Junmyeon accepts only to have Jongin straddle him, fluidly having his back flat against the bed with his groin pushing up insistently against Jongin's ass. He gets the picture.

***

"Okay, today you look wrecked," Kyungsoo says the moment Junmyeon comes through the door. "And it's 10 PM, you weren't at the cafeteria for dinner to listen to how Chanyeol's swimming meet went, so...," "Don't," Junmyeon's body is abuzz but he wants to go to bed to savour it all on his own. "Don't- I mean, yes, I stayed back for the reasons you think I did, and yeah it was great but I kind of want to--,"

Kyungsoo's fast to rebound with his thoughts. "So you did, you had sex with him?"

Wonshik thinks he's stupid. "You kind of have to be," Sanghyuk comments, taking a long, sage sip of his iced tea like it's a double shot of espresso. "I can't believe you're corny enough to fall for a barista, hyung," "He just happens to be one," is Wonshik's (weak) retort. He's picking at the sides of what's left of his macadamia-and-something muffin, the top of which he'd bulldozed through before deciding he should cut down on the sugar and so had left the bottom part intact and untouched, and wondering how this ever happened. Sure, Hongbin is attractive right off the bat but did Wonshik really have to start feeling things for somebody who's hardly said more than "I'm sorry, did you say you wanted cinnamon on your hot chocolate?" to him? There's always Taekwoon, the guy who lived down the hall who looked a million bucks in soccer shorts and most certainly double that in nothing, and Jaehwan, the captain of their college acapella group, so come on. At least Taekwoon, who sometimes looks at Wonshik like he wants dearly to strangle him, is ever-present in their dorm's rec room whenever Wonshik's writing raps and tries to help, even if Taekwoon's brand of "help" involves shaking his head vigorously at ninety percent of the things Wonshik writes while he's downing an entire box of goldfish crackers (the nods are worth it though, when they're achieved). And Jaehwan, Jaehwan has perfect teeth and Wonshik has had experience with how they felt against his skin. So it's not like Wonshik doesn't have options, but he's thought about this over and over, and he's pretty damn sure he likes and wants Hongbin a whole lot. "If he was a hooker I'd still fall for him," "Wouldn't that just be ideal?" Sanghyuk is two years younger than Wonshik but acts like they're on par with life experience. "Then you can actually pay him to look at you instead of doing this awful thing called pining, pathetically, over your third cup of coffee. You like coffee, I know, but now youlike coffee," Sanghyuk pauses for effect, having stressed his words like Wonshik's got a debilitating addiction to Hongbin caffeine and nothing will save him because he's so far in. "Come on, go talk to him. I bet he'd just love it if you asked for his number. Probably gets that all the time, actually. Real typical story, leaving numbers on napkins," "What Drew Barrymore rom-com crap have you been watching? And you say you're grown up. Pft," "Hey," Sanghyuk puts both hands up as if in surrender. "I'm trying to be encouraging here. If having a crush makes you this terse, I take it back. Please don't ask for his number. You might end up choking me to death when you come back from your first date and he let you kiss him at the doorstep," Kissing Hongbin at the doorstep. Wonshik can't keep the image from entering his mind, flitting across his vision like it's happening right there in front of his eyes. "So are you going to ask, or am I going to sit here and watch you pretend you aren't making bedroom eyes at him every three seconds?" "I'll do it," Wonshik declares. Sanghyuk looks genuinely surprised. "Really? Because you're looking pretty pale right now," "If you're trying to be encouraging, now would be a great time," Sanghyuk smirks and Wonshik wants to shove his palm on his friend's face and smear it off. "Go on then," Sanghyuk prompts. "He's not doing anything except refilling the sugar pots at the tables. Now's your chance, you wait till he gets to us," And that's exactly what Hongbin's doing, he's got a fancy paper bag filled to the brim with sugar in one hand, moving from table to table and checking the equally fancy pots of sugar at each table. Wonshik thinks he's perfect, but it isn't like Hongbin moves with the ethereal grace that Taekwoon has, or the infectious affability Jaehwan possesses in everything he does. He moves... normally, kind of nervous, Wonshik's noticed, his smile never quite reaching out as far as it could really go, his shoulders never quite relaxed. It's normal, Wonshik supposes: he's working, he isn't here to kick back. He's being professional. Still, Wonshik has seen those dimples more than enough times to guess what Hongbin looks like when he's unwound, but it'd be another thing to actually see it and Wonshik wants to. "Hey, hey he's coming," Sanghyuk kicks Wonshik unnecessarily under the table and empties two overloaded spoonfuls of sugar into Wonshik's iced coffee. Wonshik can't even watch Hongbin coming, and did he really have to ask in front of Sanghyuk? Couldn't he corner Hongbin after a shift or something? In a back alley? While he was walking home?  Whoa there, boy. Calm down. "Sorry," Hongbin's saying and Wonshik nods and clears his throat, leaning away so Hongbin can reach over for their sugar pot. He grabs at his coffee, remembering the sugar Sanghyuk had added and quickly puts it back. His heart is slamming against his ribcage and Wonshik catches Sanghyuk leering at him from between Hongbin's arms, half hurrying him, half laughing at him silently for not speaking up yet. Wonshik's throat is dry, like what happens when he dares to eat the cafeteria's ultra-decadent nachos before he tries to rap, and his voice comes out hoarse with a measly 'hey', a pitiful sound but it catches Hongbin's attention and when Hongbin looks at him Wonshik knows there's nowhere to go. Hongbin doesn't ask for elaboration, just looks at Wonshik expectantly. Wonshik realizes 'hey' leaves Hongbin at an awkward sort of position, like he's unsure whether Wonshik is addressing him or the idiot Wonshik had come with, so he's making eye contact and he notices for surprisingly the first time that Hongbin has his eyes lined very subtly in black, and there's a faint smudge of tangerine eyeshadow on his lids. Something to prove he hasn't been entirely obsessed, but now he has to say something. "Um," Wonshik bides for time. He's clearing his throat and Sanghyuk is making a face that suggests he's dying from second-hand embarrassment, and Hongbin's done with topping their sugar pot off so he's just there with the bag of sugar and a spoon. He's not smiling but he doesn't look bothered that Wonshik is taking his time, which only relieves Wonshik somewhat. "I just... do you think I could, um, instead of sugar, I mean--," Sanghyuk's staring at him now, brows furrowed, 'what the fuck are you saying' but it's too late to go back and start the sentence again. "-- what's good? I mean syrup-wise. I should try something new but I never got around to asking properly because 'surprise me' is kind of lame and I didn't want you to feel pressured, like--," And now Hongbin's smiling and he's even laughing a little, but still his eyes don't really crinkle as much as Wonshik had seen them do once when one of Hongbin's co-workers had joked about something. He nods, rolling the top of the sugar bag over, closing it. Wonshik wonders how old he is, takes in how fair Hongbin's skin is and how nice his hair looks. Details, details. Everything about Hongbin is perfect, to make up a perfect being. And Wonshik's heart is still doing the "I'm trying to break out of your chest!" thing when Hongbin answers, Wonshik hanging on to his every word like Hongbin is about to reveal where Wonshik can get free pizza at any given time that he craves it. "I always go with caramel," Hongbin answers and Wonshik feels an odd mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction at the sound of Hongbin's voice. It's still soft, restrained and reserved but Wonshik notes that Hongbin doesn't talk to him like he's a customer, more an acquaintance, like he's speaking to a friend's friend he recognized at a random party somewhere. "But I feel like it might be a bit heady for someone like you, so maybe mint? You look like a mint person," It takes Wonshik longer than a while to piece together a reply, so all he does is nod in compensation for his weird silence. Hongbin cracks another smile, ducks his head in a polite nod and he's gone again, back to his place behind the counter. Wonshik feels light-headed. Doesn't know what to feel, so he's sitting there, vanquished. "Really?" Sanghyuk starts, still in disbelief. "Really, he was right here," "Oh God, shut it. Please. I tried, I-- let's go, Hakyeon's waiting for us at the gym,"  "You're so stupid," Sanghyuk hisses, clearly saving the most of his commentary for when they're not still in Hongbin's vicinity. He's red in the face and Wonshik isn't sure why but when he's gathering his things, he's laughing and snorting at the same time. Wonshik wants to hit him but Hongbin doesn't look like a fan of violence, and Wonshik doesn't want Hongbin to think he's really close with Sanghyuk or anything. So he's sauntering out with his bag over a shoulder and his iced coffee in the other, willing himself not to look at Hongbin at all because that's just weird, opting for having his gaze lowered to the carpeted floor like the Da Vinci Code is hidden in there somewhere. "You look like a mint person". 

***

"You're serious?" Hakyeon asks. Thankfully he doesn't laugh, but he's smiling widely, face crinkling like he wants to but he's holding it back for Wonshik's dignity. "You ask-- oh, Ravi. Ravi-yah," "I-- shut it," Wonshik grumbles and Hakyeon gives in to the laughs, chuckling as he rubs Wonshik's back good-naturedly. "I tried, and that's what matters. Besides, mint isn't that bad at all," "Oh? You went back?" "No," Sanghyuk cuts in, chewing on the end of his pen. "He went to the other one, you know, the one you have to walk to the other side of town and suck someone's dick to get into," "Stop it," Hakyeon gently chides. "It's normal to be like this when you have a crush! I just thought Wonshik would be um, you know, more upfront. Perhaps like when you approached Jaehwan?" "That's because Jaehwan met him halfway and they were tipsy," "... that is what happened. Hm," Hakyeon's hand leaves Wonshik's back and he moves back to his own bed, somehow finding space to sit amongst the CDs and textbooks. "What are you going to do, Ravi?" "I don't know," Wonshik grumbles. "He doesn't know," Sanghyuk chimes in simultaneously. "You should go with him someday, you'll see first-hand that he's utterly hopeless," "I'm not sure I want to see that, honestly," Hakyeon's really laughing now and Sanghyuk balls up a fist in victory, because they're both on the same side now and Wonshik's face is flaring right up. "Maybe you could dye your hair that red again?" Hakyeon, however, suggests seriously. "He would notice you right away. That is, um, unless you haven't already made an impression with your syrup question," Wonshiks reasons to himself that Hongbin would get asked that often. He bets Hongbin gets asked about foam, soy, the type of coffee beans the café used, whether the sugar they used is organic, whether he's aware of how much milk he'd put into the latte, so much that it tastes just like milk, and refunds. Hongbin's probably forgotten him by now, never mind that Wonshik's a regular, because that place got many regulars. The initial euphoria of having pulled together the guts to speak to Hongbin is wearing off to nothing with not only every remark Sanghyuk makes but every second that ticks by, and even seeing Taekwoon on his way in after a soccer practice gone late hasn't done anything for Wonshik's spirits, which feel dead flat now that he thinks about it. "Or orange," Sanghyuk has to add. "I bet he's an orange guy," "I'll ask next time," Wonshik responds, voice slightly clipped. Hakyeon notes this and exchanges a look with Sanghyuk who shrugs and keeps his eyes pointedly trained on his Nexus 10. The thing is, Wonshik isn't so much mad at them as he is miffed with himself, but he lets them think the former anyway, because Sanghyuk's kind of a little shit and deserves it. "Maybe you should let him go alone next time, Hyuk," Hakyeon's saying, and Wonshik thanks him silently for the input: there's a certain note to Hakyeon's voice, the kind Sanghyuk has never thought to overlook and disobey. The oldest of the three in Room 2:4, Hakyeon's always been the sturdy big brother figure, one both he and Sanghyuk respect to the end of the world and back, so Wonshik's thinking Sanghyuk won't tag along next time. "Fine. But you better ask!" Sanghyuk points a finger accusingly at Wonshik, smiling when he sees Wonshik biting a smile back of his own. "Don't be a loser, Shik. Pretty boys like him don't stay single forever, you know. I mean, I can totally see him with Jaehwan--," Wonshik pelts him with a pillow. He's across the room, but he's developed a good aim over the year.

***

Wonshik has been to the café enough to know when Hongbin doesn't have shifts, so the matter of picking a day that Hongbin would be there isn't hard. He's always known Wednesdays are the best choice, but he feels particularly creepy today as he pulls his earbuds out and lets them hang off his neck when he walks in, grateful for the low buzz of conversation that meant anything he bumbled over while trying to talk to Hongbin wouldn't be overheard. It's the same as always, Hongbin's working the coffee machine and Dasom's at the counter taking orders and giving smiles, something she doesn't skimp on when it's Wonshik's turn. "Just the usual for you then, is it?" she asks, already tapping something out on the touch screen monitor and Wonshik nods, attention skipping to Hongbin who's face is serious with concentration, copper-brown hair mussed. Wonshik's too far to tell if there's eyeliner this time. "But can I get syrup in it?" Wonshik almost forgets to add. "Peppermint, please," Dasom's mouth makes an 'o',  'getting fancy are we? and she's smiling still as Wonshik pays and takes his usual seat in the centre of the room. Wednesdays are also the least busy in the afternoons. Everybody got their hump day fix in the mornings. With some library book he'd snatched hastily from Hakyeon's bed propped in front of him (Wonshik doesn't understand a thing though), Wonshik's face is burning with the mere thought of how he's going to go about asking Hongbin. He usually doubles as the barista and someone who cleans the tables up and Wonshik's chosen a time when the place isn't full at all but there's still a chance Hongbin might not even come by, a circumstance Wonshik hadn't prepared himself for. Over the week, he'd thought about it over and over until realizing that it didn't do him any good to write a speech in his head and practice it: he's always been the improvising type, which might explain some of his grades, but preparation made him nervous, so the whole Wednesday thing is the only thing he's ever planned ahead with. His heart sounds like the beat of the fast track he'd been listening to before, to get himself pumped, because Hongbin's reaching for the receipt that's got his order on it and Wonshik swears when Hongbin looks up through the glasses stacked atop the machine to look at him. Probably with amusement. The next few minutes feel like a dream and Wonshik can't feel his feet. Hongbin's so far never failed to make Wonshik feel like he wouldn't be able to walk in general, even when Hongbin didn't so much as look his way, because all Wonshik's ever needed is to see him. He looks beautiful and Wonshik finds it strange he's calling a man beautiful, but there's no other way to describe him and as smitten as Wonshik is, he's pretty sure there's no doubting this observation. Can I have your number? Are you single? When do you get off? I was wondering, if you were free after this... It's an endless stream that Wonshik can't fish something final out of, and when Hongbin's walking over with his peppermint iced coffee Wonshik's turning the page of Hakyeon's book with a shaky hand that feels like it'd fall off any moment soon, especially when Hongbin's poised to say something as he sets the drink down. "I hope you like it," he's saying, and he sounds happier than he usually does. Wonshik's trying to look up as nonchalantly as possible, like he hadn't noticed Hongbin's approach and he's smiling, as nervous as he looks, he guesses, because he can hear his own voice waver and heck. CanIhaveyournumberAreyousingleWhendoyougetoffI was wondering,ifyouwerefreeafterthiscouldItakeyoufor... "I probably will," Wonshik replies, breathless like he'd finished three laps with Hakyeon. He wonders if Hongbin is going to stay for reaction and he doesn't know whether it's good or bad if he does, but he decides it's bad because Hongbin's backing away to return to his post and Wonshik hasn't even tried to ask him a damn thing-- "Hey, um, Hongbin?" Hongbin turns around and he's wearing a look like he's wondering how Wonshik knows his name. They both know he's got his name taped to his apron, but Wonshik guesses it's still kind of weird, but he tries not to let that stop him. "I was wondering," Wonshik's blurting and he's thinking it's now or never, because fuck Sanghyuk, this is for himself too and his pride, and if he failed right now he would probably never be able to face Hongbin properly again with an order for an iced coffee with peppermint syrup. "If you weren't doing anything after, uh, this, because...," because I know you get off in an hour "... because I kind of want to take you somewhere. Anywhere. You know?" There's an awkward silence. The rest of the place is still moving around them but Wonshik can only hear blood rushing in his ears, or whatever that noise is, and he's got a shred of gratitude for the fact nobody seems to be watching them. "Sure," Hongbin finally answers. He's smiling lopsidedly, some of his teeth visible with it and there's the dimple showing on that side. Wonshik feels like goo, because when Hongbin blushes it's really obvious and Wonshik likes that a little too much, sure he's grinning too wide like the idiot he is. "My shift ends in an hour, so you can stay here, or...?" "I'll wait," Wonshik confirms, too ecstatic to feel very slightly like a stalker. Hongbin doesn't seem to mind though, smiling still like he agrees that that's the best idea. "Alright. See you later, Ravi," Hongbin's gone for ten minutes until it hits Wonshik that Hongbin had called him Ravi.

(He only uses that name when he raps.)

***

An hour later, Wonshik dutifully waits outside. He knows perhaps too well that Hongbin has to do some sort of inventory when he ends his shift, an older guy Wonshik never bothered to learn the name having come in fifteen minutes before to pick up the work. Dasom has energy to match Jaehwan's and Wonshik's never seen her off the way Hongbin is now, apron and a smidgeon of stress free. He's not exactly dressed casually but he doesn't look uncomfortable beside Wonshik who's shirt has been slept it twice, the creases making that obvious enough. "Hey," Wonshik figures since he's the one who initiated he is, that he should lead the conversation. Even if it had seemed impossible before, Hongbin seems more awkward and nervous than Wonshik is and the sight makes Wonshik's toes curl in his shoes and he wants nothing more than to take Hongbin around the damn world. "I was starting to wonder whether you'd run from me," Hongbin's eyes narrow that much with his smile, walking less rigidly than he moves when he works, and his smile is the best damn thing Wonshik's ever seen, because it's all he can focus on even when they're reaching a crossing and Wonshik should probably keep an eye out for cars. "I'm not the type," Hongbin says simply. "So how are you doing?" "I'm alright," Wonshik forgets the Ravi thing for the time being. "It's not assignment time yet, and I.. well, you know I go to the college nearby," "Of course, I.. well, I overheard," Hongbin's admitting and he's blushing again. "You and that guy you always come in with, sometimes it can get a bit loud," "Sorry," Wonshik smiles, sheepish, because he knows full well how brash he's gotten with Sanghyuk in the past. "But how are you? Um, what's up?" And it's with relief that Wonshik finds he's easing into his usual breezy persona the more they talked, the tension in Hongbin's shoulders disappearing by the time Wonshik gets around to getting him dinner, talking Hongbin into trying some sort of burger that involved corn chips and jalapeños. He doesn't like it but Wonshik loves it, chuckling around the rest of the hefty, sloppy serving as Hongbin downs the rest of Wonshik's proffered water like he hasn't had water in days. "I hate jalapeños," Hongbin's saying, managing to smile attractively even if he's repulsed. "And gherkins, pickles-- you're disgusting, stop it," Hongbin's blushing, always blushing, and Wonshik feels giddy at the turnout. He quits brandishing the burger at Hongbin though, swallows like a person who a speck of decency and he leans in to speak right by Hongbin's neck: "you'd still kiss me though, right?" and Hongbin beats his personal record with the quick rush of red up his neck in .01 seconds.

Luhan hasn't gotten any in so long it feels like heaven when Kris touches him. More than heaven when adept fingers slip beneath the too-tight elastic of his dress pants, the pair he'd worn all through the Seoul Music Awards even when he'd told the stylists they chafe his hipbones, but now he's vaguely glad they didn't fix his measurements on their sheets when Kris is running his fingertips over the reddened spots, soothing them though the sensitivity meant it hurt a little. Not that Luhan minds when he's half naked and Kris is too, one of Kris’ dumb necklaces ("it's gangster" Kris had said, much to Luhan’s chagrin) is trickling down to bump against Luhan's chin and when Kris kisses him the cool steel slides over Luhan's neck in a welcome change against the hot, stuffy air of the room.

“Take it off,” Luhan’s whining almost, pride kept in check by the mere ounce of self-control he has left; Kris isn’t exactly taking his time like he sometimes does, fumbling about with Luhan’s clothes and the soft, lean body that’s beneath, but he wasn’t exactly running at top speed either. It annoys Luhan tonight because he knows they’re both desperate but Kris is unwilling to show, and he’s about to issue another reprimand laced in raw annoyance when he feels a rough tug and his pants are gone, belt, briefs and all, from around his hips like they were made of silk and Luhan’s biting back a gasp, pearly teeth piercing into a red stain on the even colour of his lips. “Kris—,” he’s saying, but Kris cuts him off with a kiss, and there’s that damn necklace again, still cool to touch against the growing heat blooming across Luhan’s neck and tinging it with an embarrassing pink. It’s segmented – the necklace – and tragically Luhan feels every little bit of it in fine detail even when his lips are between Kris’ and his tongue is being nudged around too much as if Kris doesn’t really know what he’s doing but Luhan likes it anyway because it’s primal and really, truly Kris. Of course, next to go are Kris’ clothes, him keeping them on would be counterproductive, but Luhan’s only popped the button, undone the zip and is reaching for the two sides to push the material down when Kris stops him.

Luhan breathes in sharply.

“It isn’t the time for games, Yifan,”

“I’m not playing,” Kris’ gaze is steady against the flash of irritation in Luhan’s own and it makes Luhan shy away from further comment, swallowing the sentences he would have made about how stressed he’s been lately and how Kris shouldn’t add to it. He’s closing his eyes and counting to ten, Kris’ mouth at his neck and no doubt pebbling the area with marks that would fade by the next day – it wasn’t their style to be obvious about this. Five, six, seven… — Kris looks at him, knows what he’s doing — eight, nine, and Luhan’s eyes open, wide with surprise and body jerking upwards off the bed because, hell, Kris’ stretching him out with a finger and God knows how much that hurt.

“You’re very impatient,” Kris observes, and his nerve to be so calm when Luhan’s face is screwed up in pain doesn’t fly with the older of the two who sinks his teeth into Kris’ earlobe, right by the tacky earring that adds more “bling” to the oh-so-modest clothes Kris usually dons, and when he licks around the piece of jewellery, it’s Kris’ turn to have his breath hitch. It doesn’t help quell the quickly growing ache inside Luhan as Kris drew his finger in and out but it makes Kris go that bit faster, Luhan getting through reminding himself that this is exactly what he’d been wanting,  and soon enough Luhan’s urging for the second, the third, and then moaning out, choked for words, for Kris. He can tell Kris almost makes a smart retort at that but thankfully Kris is saving it this time, hand retracting from being up against Luhan’s ass and instead lifting Luhan’s legs up and apart, bent at the knees to fit the width of Kris’ body between.

“Do it,” Luhan gulps, shaking off the hold Kris had at his thighs to secure them readily around those hips. “Don’t say anything —please. Do it,”

And do it Kris does, stroking himself against Luhan’s ass for a merciful three seconds before he was pushing the tip of his cock against Luhan’s prepared rim, the action earning him the best of sounds in his opinion what with Luhan’s pale neck exposed and strained with everything Kris was making him feel. It’s only when Kris is half in that Luhan wonders when Kris had ever gotten out of his pants and his underwear, though the material Luhan could just feel against his feet is fast to answer him that Kris never did.

He’s being fucked by someone who didn’t feel like being fully undressed for it.

“Hyung,” is always the first thing Kris utters and Luhan has long since given up on correcting him, especially at times like this. It isn’t like it’s hard on the ears either with how gruff yet somehow shamefully dependent Kris sounds when he says it, like he isn’t the one with his dick up someone’s ass. It takes a few shallow thrusts to allow Luhan to adjust but they both know he values saving time over discomfort, so the transition from slow to steady is usually a fast one what with them both impatient by now for release. Kris has never marked Luhan before but he does it now, and for what special occasion Luhan knows not but he isn’t complaining, the heat of Kris’ mouth with the bite of his teeth something to be savoured on top of how sloppy Kris has gotten lately with the sex, not that much could go wrong with Luhan when he’s filled to the brim with all that Kris had to offer. It still stings, the stretch, but the rocking motion of Kris’ hips that sets the bed moving (or at least Luhan thinks) is enough to get his mind off it, the toe-curling pleasure gradually spreading through his body until he felt light-headed with the euphoria of having something so thick so tightly pressed against his walls, the fit perfectly snug.  And eventually the way Kris is moving becomes faultless, Luhan’s fingers scratching fruitlessly for purchase along Kris’ sides and down his back, the room enveloped with Kris’ low grunts and panted exhales that ring in tandem with Luhan’s whines and higher pitched whimpers for more. It’s like Kris can’t get deep enough, coming off dissatisfied with how he pierces Luhan with hungry glimpses, but it’s only because it feels much too good and Luhan knows it – he’s clenching harshly around the intrusive length at all the right times, willing Kris to feel his disdain at how this could never be enough to sate the both of them, how doing it once is never quite sufficient but both knowing it had to.

A shift of Kris’ knees against the bed and his cock slips free a bit, the smooth rhythm they’d set up until now wavering.

Kris wants something different.

Luhan finds himself on his side. He’s got a leg raised, Kris supporting it up with a hand tucked beneath his knee to keep it in place and it takes some prodding, some experimenting until Kris has got the both of them positioned right for him to fuck fluidly into Luhan again. The angle is different, everything is different, and Luhan feels the burn like he never has before, embarrassed but not completely perturbed by the tears he blinks free within the first few thrusts, and it’s now that he finds himself jarring with each time Kris is in to the hilt. He’s unable to move much, not if he wants Kris to continue slamming into him the way he is now, and the most he can do is grip at the sheets, glad for once that Kris seems to know what he’s doing without Luhan’s input. “Breathe,” Kris rasps and Luhan wants to punch him, he’s breathing, he’s just making a terrible mess of it what with how his prostate is being hit repeatedly and how he’s making those regrettably loud attempts at Kris’ name, Yifan, Yifan, Yifan each time he took Kris’ cock whole. He sounds strangled and awful and what makes the whole thing worse is when Kris is delivering stinging slaps to the side of his thigh, as if the blossoming red all over his body isn’t enough, as if Luhan doesn’t sound absolutely wrecked already with how he grew completely pliant to Kris’ work, defiance dissolving as he went boneless in Kris’ hold and against the brunt of the thrusts the other man made. It wouldn’t take long now and Luhan knows it, scooting back tight against Kris’ chest to produce a groan of pleasure from them both and that’s when he feels the goddamn necklace, still cold and distinct in its outline as it knocked against his neck as Kris moves.

“Jesus,” Luhan hisses and he reaches up to hook a finger through it, yanking Kris forward and their lips crash together in a hurried kiss, the searing heat passing between their mouths only matched by how hard and determined Kris is in how he moved into Luhan, barely out before his clothed groin is tucked right up to Luhan’s ass. His hand’s starting to weaken in keeping Luhan’s leg up, managing only because they both need these precious few seconds, neither of them able to grasp onto anything really when Kris comes in a gruff burst of a groan, the familiar feeling of cum spreading all down his walls and escaping down his thighs one that Luhan is never, will never be, sick of as he rocks back and milks Kris for more. Their lips are close, parted, but they aren’t kissing anymore what with Kris’ movements slacking in momentum as the high of his orgasm begins spearing downwards again and he’s finally, finally wrapping firm fingers around Luhan’s neglected length and taking him through the last seconds until Luhan’s done too, shuddering and moaning almost in protest at how knowing Kris is in how he drains Luhan clean (mostly onto the bed) with thorough, no-bullshit strokes.

They both stay where they are, chests heaving with effort as if they’d forgotten how to let their lungs do their job and it takes a while, it always does, until Kris is moving in to check on Luhan, ask him how he’s doing, and Luhan almost always protests to hugging because it’s hot and Kris isn’t the fridge.

“Next time,” Kris manages to say, slipping the cross that dangles at the end of his necklace into a corner of Luhan’s lips. “I want this in your mouth. It looks so pretty,”

After that comment, it took Minhyuk quite some time to be consoled. While initially Jaehyo had intended for it to be a joke, the type that friends would be offended by but would brush off because they were in a point in their relationship where the tolerance of jokes that would normally be slightly scathing existed, after a while he began to feel bad about it. Jiho had given him that look – funny, Jaehyo thinks, that he’s older than Jiho by two years, yet he heeds Jiho’s words like the rapper’s a mentor of some sort – that said well, what can I say, you went a little personal there, and after that Jaehyo knew he had to apologize.

But apologizing straight out never worked with Minhyuk. They’d all had experience with pissing him off at some point and they’d all respectively discovered that while he said “yeah, it’s fine” or “stop saying sorry”, he never actually meant it. Jaehyo wasn’t the only guy in the group with a stubborn temper: high up there in the ranks with him was Minhyuk, but the slightly older man was just better at not letting the irritation show on his face. Mostly because he already looked bothered half the time he was awake, which meant you couldn’t tell whether he was actually annoyed by something or just… well, wearing his normal expression.

Which would makes things decidedly hard for people when they were trying to reconcile with him.

“I can’t just say sorry,” Jaehyo points out to Kyung, who, for some reason, is Jaehyo’s confidante for today. The rapper has a surprising store of patience for Jaehyo and has, in the recent weeks, become an unlikely ear for Jaehyo’s problems and commentaries. “But I don’t know what else I can do, short of, I don’t know…,” he trails off and picks at the loose thread in his Piglet, pulling it out with a huff. “I hate that guy. Too much of a temper. Won’t be able to pick up girls with that attitude,”

Kyung just laughs because he’s looking at sheet of lyrics that Jiho’s given him, and there’s a jumble of random markings that Jaehyo can’t understand. “It’s the beat,” Kyung explains, tapping it out against the edge of a table. But Jaehyo still doesn’t get it. Jiho, he’s learned, has an exclusive way of doing everything and apparently only Kyung understands.

Sometimes, the two are closer than brothers and it irks Jaehyo. But only because he’s always trying to “fit in” to the type that Jiho seems to go for in close friends. Not like they aren’t already close, but Jiho’s interesting as hell.

And on top of that, while Jaehyo wouldn’t dare say it to anyone else, ever, whenever he felt as if he’d gotten Jiho’s approval it was as if he’d been bathed in sunshine.

Bathed in sunshine Jaehyo scoffs to himself, reddening immediately at the thought of such a corny sentence. Only you would, Ahn Jaehyo. Stop it. Stop trying to be imaginative and poetic.

“Well with that attitude you won’t be able to make him talk to you again,” Kyung pipes up, finally, and any bit of advice is helpful to Jaehyo at this point so the ulzzang things Kyung sounds kind of profound. “Buy him a meal,”

“I already offered,” Jaehyo replies with a whine. He glances at the laptop screen and fixes a few strands of hair while Kyung hums out the notes on the page. Kyung sees “notes” and Jaehyo sees “squiggly lines”.

“Then… then…,” Kyung doesn’t really finish his sentence but Jaehyo doesn’t blame him: Minhyuk’s just hard to please, unless you were U-Kwon. His soft spot for the fellow dancer has always been a fact in the Block B dorm. The two were like peas in a pod what with their endless dance routines that had worn out the floor of their practice room, even when the training wasn’t needed. When Jaehyo pointed this out to Jiho (Taeil ignores him, so Jaehyo’s turned to the person, he thinks, is second in terms of maturity), Jiho just stared at him and said: “so they like to spend time with each other, so what? Let them be. Kyung and I were worse during high school.”

Would you like to spend time with me like that? Jaehyo had wanted to ask, but he didn’t. So he’d resumed lying back on Minhyuk’s bed, leafing through a fashion magazine as Jiho wrote and rewrote dozens of lyrics.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Jaehyo grumbles and kicks his legs off the bed. “I’m just going to march into his room and tell him that if he doesn’t forgive me I’m never letting him borrow my cosmetics again,”

Kyung only half-listens but even in that state he reckons Jaehyo’s got a really bad idea of what’s a good plan and what’s not.

“Nope,” is all he says, though, and Jaehyo throws him a bewildered look before clinging onto his knee, shaking it slightly, wanting to divert Kyung’s attention away from that piece of paper.

“Look at meeeee,” he whines, knowing he looks quite hopeless. “Park Kyung, yah, stop reading Jiho’s doodles and help me out,” like a bro he wants to add, so he can be like Jiho. But he figures it’d sound lame coming from him.

“I don’t know,” Kyung barely even glances at him before wriggling his leg to get Jaehyo off him. “Go bother someone else. Like Yukwon,” he ends his sentence with a pointed look that said and you never thought of going to him before? Which sends Jaehyo off the bed and straight for Yukwon, who is in the kitchen.

“Yukwon-ah,” Jaehyo puts his arm around the dancer as he joins him by the stove. There’s a pot on it, and there’s a smell of something spicy-hot coming from the steam that escaped from beneath the lid. “What are you making?”

“It’s called dinner,” Yukwon doesn’t make an attempt to shake him off but he heads for the rice cooker and Jaehyo’s arms drops. “Nobody else was hungry so I figured I would just eat something simple,”

It was a Thursday and normally the boys would go out on Thursdays. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jaehyo saw that it was almost six and nobody had said a thing about dinner. Taeil’s with his family, Jihoon’s out with his school friends and Jiho is due home soon from his studio.

“There looks like a lot in there,” Jaehyo comments as he lifts the lid and the steam scalds his skin, so he drops it with a hiss. Yukwon just laughs amiably as he scoops some rice into a bowl.

“You can have some if you want,” he closes the lid of the rice cooker and bumps his hip against Jaehyo’s as he re-joins him by the stove. “But Minhyuk hyung might kill you,”

“Minh—right. Yes,” Jaehyo clears his throat and brings a hand up to massage the back of his neck. “About him…,”

“Ah, I knew it,” Yukwon stirs the rich contents of the pot with a wooden spoon before sticking it into his mouth. “You’re trying to steal dinner and my secrets,”

“Secrets?” Jaehyo repeats. He gives a nervous chuckle and smooths his hand over his hair, which has grown to brush over his collar. “What secrets? I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Listen…,” Yukwon begins, but he’s cut off when the front door opens and they hear Jiho toeing his shoes off and throwing out a “I’m back” that Jaehyo’s about to answer when Kyung cuts him off.

“What? I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jiho’s form passes the kitchen door, hustling for Kyung’s room and Jaehyo inwardly grumbles at how unfair it is that Kyung always has Jiho  to himself.

“…it’s not that hard, honestly,” Yukwon gropes around in the shelf beneath their stove and finds the wooden coaster to put the pot on. “You just need to be sincere and a little persistent. Follow him around. The more you annoy him the more he realizes that the quicker he accepts you the sooner you’ll get off his back,”

“That sounds… painful,”

“For your pride maybe,” Yukwon flicks the stove off and leans against the counter, tapping his fingers against it. “Personally I think he’s already forgiven you, he just wants to play around with you a bit, you know?”

“Yah, yah, yah!” Jiho calls from within Kyung’s room and the two rappers dissolve into a peal of laughter. Yukwon furrows his brows and shakes his head, bemused, and Jaehyo frowns.

“That’s… that’s horrible,” Jaehyo sniffs. “He’s, like, my age, he should forgive me without having to resort to childish games,”

“Yeah, well, that’s my boyfriend for you,”

“That’s your—what?”

“I said that’s Minhyuk for you,” Yukwon repeats, and he’s got that wide smile on his face that has all their fans weak at the knees. “Now move aside, this pot’s hot and we all know what happens when you’re around hot things,”

With a huff, Jaehyo leaves the room for his own.

***

That night when everyone was in their respective rooms with the door shut, the tension is still totally unbearable between Minhyuk and Jaehyo. Jiho’s annoyed that he’s literally in the middle of it in a way, what if Jaehyo bunking above him and Minhyuk to his left.

He wants to mediate the situation but he also figures that these two had to learn how to deal with each other by themselves at some point. Jiho’s always been that guy to separate and dissolve arguments and he doesn’t want to do it again. He’s exhausted from the day’s work and all he wants to do is roll over in bed and fall into a deep sleep where he’d dream of girls playing beach volleyball in the scorching sun but his hyungs seem to have other plans.

“Minhyuk,” Jaehyo settles himself as comfortably as he can at the end of the dancer’s bed. The glance he gets is unnerving and he looks to Jiho for help, but all the leader does is sigh woefully.

“Minhyuk I have a question,”

Jiho sighs again and Jaehyo wonders if he’s got an itch on his back that he can’t reach. It’s happened before and while he’d also refused that one time, he’d gladly scratch Jiho’s back for him now if he asked.

“What is it,” the dancer grumbles, but it doesn’t sound like a question. He just sounds frustrated even though he’s doing nothing.

“Um,” Jaehyo wonders how he could go about this without bringing out anything about their face, but he really wants to talk about BB cream. “Can you… er… do you… you like Sunhwa right?!”

“I…,” Minhyuk shoots him a look of disbelief. Jiho does too but Jaehyo ignores it with a nervous chuckle. “Yes…?”

“Well what if I said I have her number?” Jaehyo whips out his phone and unlocks it with a few taps of his fingers. Jiho mutters something.

“You don’t,” Minhyuk points out flatly.

“Yeah, but… if I did, you’d forgive me if I had it right?”

Minhyuk says nothing. Because nothing’s needed. Jiho doesn’t pull his blankets up and just lies there, in the visual glory that he is when he wears a black shirt with its sleeves rolled up (even if it were short-sleeved originally) and that one particular pair of well-worn track pants with a drawstring.

Sigh, sigh Jaehyo purses his lips. When will I ever get to touch tha—

“So if I did try and get it,” Jaehyo leans closer to Minhyuk, and his forced chumminess makes Minhyuk’s stomach turn. “Even if I fail, the effort speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,”

Minhyuk isn’t giving him much to work with, but Yukwon’s statement about him just playing with Jaehyo motivates the ulzzang.

“Okay,” Jaehyo slaps his hand against Minhyuk’s knee and winks as if they were sharing some private joke. “Give me two years. When we’re mega-famous because of me, I’ll ask her for it,”

The dancer scoffs but there’s an obvious laugh tugging at his lips as he rests back against his nestle of pillows and soft toys. “Sure. Sure, Jaehyo, you do that,”

Well that was easier than expected Jaehyo still feels a great sense of unease, and knows it’ll take another day or two before Minhyuk’s fully lightened up but a start’s a start and Jaehyo clambers onto his bed, making sure to brush his foot against Jiho’s leg when he does. The sensation makes Jiho budge in his position.

“You’re going to shut the lights right?” the younger boy grunts and Jaehyo nods as he sits atop his covers. Jaehyo always checks his mentions on Twitter and comments on random sites before he sleeps out of habit, and his two room-mates have had to learn to deal with having the light on while they tried to catch some shut-eye. While it’s been some time since they’ve been room-mates, Jiho always asks this and while at first Jaehyo had come frustrated with the repetition, he’s become to relish the sound of Jiho’s voice, like the question is equivalent to anyone else saying “sweet dreams”.

“Yeah of course,” Jaehyo replies and the rustle of bed sheets means Jiho is getting beneath his own blankets. Jaehyo wishes he could say something witty one day to make him laugh but he hasn’t got the smarts or the guts.

“Good,” Jiho mutters. “Or I’ll slit your throat,”

Weird, Jaehyo bites his lip as he taps open his Twitter app. He’s never said that before.

And he’s made so hopelessly giddy by that alone that it makes Minhyuk shake his head.

It’s kind of sad how Jaehyo thought nobody knew he liked Jiho when everyone did.

The way you walk and talk is just like her, yawning all the time, it's crazy. Everything is the same: a montage from head to toe.

Well, not really, Zico thinks. Jaehyo’s a bit different.

A bit. Yeah right. First of all, he’s male, the sarcastic voice that’s always so prominent in Zico’s head taunts. And Zico wants to say fuck you, but then he realizes he’d be swearing at himself, and how stupid is that?

You have so many similarities with the girl who hurt me so painfully. Whenever I see you, I doubt my own eyes. But strangely, I’m attracted to you more because of it. What do I do?

Zico tells magazines and TV interviews he’s never had a girlfriend. Never had time for one. But it’s a lie and he knows it is one as much as his fans suspect it is one. In the end there’s no point in admitting whether or not you’ve had a girlfriend because the reactions and speculations that followed were the same either way. Being the kind of person that he was, trekking about the streets rapping when he wasn’t housed in studying, it would’ve seemed rather impossible that Zico had never met a girl he had the strong desire to date. But in saying that he had only ever had just the one – and Zico had appreciated her as much as a guy could possibly appreciate his first girlfriend. Which was a lot. He was a young guy, frivolous, energetic, full of curiosity about stepping into the dating world. Experimental. And most of all easily lead on. And that had been Zico’s mistake.

But it was okay to make mistakes in life.

You just weren’t meant to make the same one over and over.

No wonder you seemed familiar when we first met: your body facial features, and unexpectedly, simple minded. The fact that half of your recent calls were with guys, and your daring move of pushing me to the corner when we kiss.

Jaehyo hadn’t really kissed Zico. Well he did, but it was very short and simple. Just a touch of two lips together, so quick that Zico blinked and it was over, and so soft that he questioned himself as to whether it had just been his imagination. But even in that case, why had he imagined it? So far as he was concerned his mind had never dwelled upon another guy as much it had upon Jaehyo. It was uncanny and part of Zico doesn’t like it but he knows denial is only a coping mechanism and that sooner or later he had to face the fact and it was better that it was sooner, because then that gave him time to figure out what to do with himself around the vocalist.

Inside and outside, all similar, like a carbon copy: the inside of my chaotic mind is a mess.

Jaehyo isn’t what Zico would call pretty, but he’s what he would call a pretty boy. That being said it was not like he was effeminate: he wasn’t like a girl. Zico knows the word “pretty” was so often associated with girls that if applied to anything, that anything was associated with femininity, but that isn’t the case with Jaehyo. It’s his glistening eyes teamed with his taut, smooth skin, kept in check with only  God knew how much BB cream… and, of course, superior genetics. Zico notices that even without the aid of make-up, Jaehyo’s skin is still luminous and pale and all kinds of nice. So whenever everyone else gave him crap about only being so handsome because of his products, Zico got a little bit annoyed. A firm believer in giving credit where credit was due despite anything else, it was only natural for him to feel so.

I’m scared that the break up process might be the same.

Was the attraction something he would act on? Without a doubt, yes. Zico had thought about it many times over when he was holed up in his studio, muttering over the spray of random lyrics on the paper in front of him. He’d thought about how it might be like to know that Jaehyo’s heart was his, to have his hand in his own, to know that the next time he wrote a love song it might actually be for someone instead of being a product of his imagination and dreams about what it would be like to be in love, be intoxicated by a curvaceous girl at a club or be have his heart stamped on. Maybe next time he wrote, he could detail what it felt like to have that one person on his mind all day long and all through the night. But at the same time, he knew that the relationship would also provide for him a well of depressing thoughts and chances for him to write about how much it hurt to love someone too.

Should I just quit?

The next time they kiss, Zico’s the one who initiates it. He pulls Jaehyo aside from the main area of their dorm, into their shared bedroom with Minhyuk, and he pretends to be having a talk with him, speaking in a semi-loud voice for the others to hear, and when he’s certain nobody’s keeping an eye or an ear out for them anymore he kisses him.

And this time it lasts longer than a second.

But my mind won't change.

The more time Zico spends thinking about it, the more time he wastes knowing he could have spent it doing something with Jaehyo.

How can it be this identical? The more and more and more I spend time with you, the more and more similar you are to her.

It doesn’t weird Zico out at all that Jaehyo reminds him of her. After all he’s only ever had one previous love. So it wasn’t like he could compare Jaehyo to ten or so other people. Whether that was lucky or not, Zico didn’t know. But he knows it’s for more reasons than that: Jaehyo does things in a way that convinces Zico he’s not just imagining the similarities, the correlations. Like how he’s always looking at his phone when they’re all out, and how he’s always speaking into in a low voice. At first Zico thinks that it’s because he keeps looking at his reflection, but then he smiles in a way that can only be explained away by mentioning a potential love interest.

I don't want to miss the love that I have found again. I’ll try it. I will trust you.

There’s a difference, though between Jaehyo and her: Jaehyo actually puts down his phone when Zico asks. And he can ignore it for as long as Zico wants. But after that, the discreet smiles pick up again in full force, as if Jaehyo had only put his other “commitments” on hold while Zico had been speaking to him. He hadn’t quit them completely – he was just staving them off temporarily.

Why again? Oh why do I do this to myself? Why am I like this?

But Jaehyo’s kisses keeps Zico’s mind on him. No matter how many times Zico forces himself to focus on other things, scolding himself that he doesn’t need to think about his rather neglected love life when he has something else called a career, but every so often, right on cue, Jaehyo will kiss him, play footsy with him under the table, indulge him in a little exchange of sweet nothings as he corners him in the bathroom late at night when everyone else is asleep.

You're so identical with her that I contemplate whether this is right or wrong.

Someone once told Zico – was it Taewoon? Zico can’t really remember – that there was no right or wrong when it came to love. Maybe to your friends said it was wrong, that it was illogical, but love more often than not did not call for the bounds of reason. It was unexplainable only because it made a person make decisions they otherwise would not make given another context. Some things said, some things done… sometimes, they could only be described by the concept of love. Whether it was right or wrong, whether it was stupid or smart, love was love and it was overpowering.

Whether I open eyes widely or just scan you in a glance, your words, your actions, everything: the same.

As if his handsome good looks had not been gravitating enough on its own, there were little things that Jaehyo did that would always make Zico look. And not just look, he would stare, sometimes mirror the action absentmindedly. Of course the others had noticed, but it wasn’t something they pointed out – he did it a lot when it came to girls, a strange habit they had come to familiarize themselves with. Like when a girl licked her lips, especially when a girl licked her lips. It was nothing unusual.

But when Jaehyo did that thing where he swept his fringe aside with pinches of his right index finger and thumb, or only licked his upper lip, it drove Zico mad.  Because it was just like her, because she used to do the same with her hair… and with her lips, but the bottom one, not the top, especially when she was reading her text messages.

I just followed my heart: I shouldn’t pay attention to the little details. Yeah, no matter what baby, even if I shed tears again because of the break up, so what?

Overanalysing things was, Zico knows, a sure-fire way to drive a person into insanity. He did not want to become one of those psychotic boyfriends that everyone hated, questioning why this and why that and why did you not reply to my text message, you had fifteen ample minutes. So he doesn’t ask Jaehyo why he keeps smiling and smirking at his screen and tapping a reply at the speed of light. He doesn’t ask where Jaehyo’s going 1:25 am in the morning, dressed like he has someone to impress. And he doesn’t ask why he looks exhausted and happy, buzzed with energy when he returns, even though it’s 3 am and he’s hardly had any sleep at all, and even though he can smell alcohol on his breath and the faintest whiff of the facial cleanser only girls use.

So what? You're the person that I choose. I will love you.

There’s really no other way to say it. Except with an I love you. But he’s not brave enough to say it, so Zico just thinks I love Jaehyo. It’s the only way he thinks it’s possible that he ignores everything if only for the hope of receiving another kiss or another short text message telling him to be strong and that Jaehyo’s thinking of him. It’s stupid, but its love and Zico can do nothing about it.

Did I or didn’t I say? I told you, told you not to get along with him… did I or didn’t I say?

No, Zico thinks, even as he pens the lyrics. I didn’t.

And even if it hurts, he’s fine with it. Because he has to be.

Jinyoung didn’t like how Shinwoo held back. It wasn’t like either of them were still young and they were just holding back because of some age consideration, and certainly they both knew what sex was, but every time Jinyoung tried to initiate something past making out, Shinwoo would draw away and find some reason to get out of the situation. True, on many occasions they had been interrupted, since living in a dorm with the rest of their group made real alone time difficult, especially with the additional staff that either chose to room in with them for the week, but Jinyoung would lose count of how many times he could have totally gotten Shinwoo off if only the man had let him. It was getting to a point where his abstinence formed a wedge in their relationship, pushing the two of them apart, though Jinyoung knew that for his part, he could have been a little more gentle and understanding. After all relationships weren’t all about the sex, but Jinyoung needed it. Maybe it was his hormones, maybe it was a mindset he had that it was time for them to take their relationship just that one huge step further… whatever it was, despite how much Shinwoo was quietly refusing his advances, Jinyoung wanted to make him cave. He knew to anyone else it sounded kind of ridiculous, that he sounded like one of those pushy-asshole types of boyfriends, but he knew from his heart and his mind (as in, he didn’t just know from hispenis) that Shinwoo was just… nervous, but he was ultimately ready. Who wouldn’t be, having sex for the first time? Yes, that was natural, and although Jinyoung was getting exhausted with having to initiate such things (first kiss, first time holding hands, first timefeeding each other), he liked Shinwoo too much to complain about it just yet. The fact that Shinwoo was so genuine and humble made it no better, but this time around it was really starting to get to Jinyoung. As naïve, assuming and selfish as he might’ve sounded to think so, he knew Shinwoo wanted it too: he could tell by the way Shinwoo gripped him when they kissed, by the way his hips moved forward to press against Jinyoung’s thigh, the hardness in his pants very difficult to ignore. The way he moved Jinyoung to the bed, hands pressing urgently into random spots on Jinyoung’s body: his hips, his sides, his thighs. It was just when Jinyoung started reaching for zippers or hems of shirts, slipping his hand past waistbands that made Shinwoo rigid – and not in that way, either.

Jinyoung just wanted to make him feel good. As if it wasn’t too much watching how Shinwoo moved on stage, watching him sweat from it was irritatingly attractive enough, not to mention the way people touched him. All the leader wanted was to stake his claim, and though nobody else was to know about it at least next time someone smoothed their hand down his back (unnecessarily, Jinyoung might add, though that may be his jealousy speaking) at least he knew that he’d slept with that and just feel the satisfaction of knowing so.

Now if Shinwoo would just stop avoiding heated situations, he might actually get somewhere.

The kiss had started off slow, though Jinyoung knew that they both knew at the back of their minds that they never just kissed. Jinyoung would always try something, or Shinwoo would at least do his fair share of fumbling, which was enough to get Jinyoung’s mind exploding with thoughts of possibilities. Yet tonight things were going particularly slow, and even when Jinyoung slipped a hand under Shinwoo’s shirt and scraped his nails gently at the soft skin at the small of his boyfriend’s back, the other didn’t respond, which was better than a negative retaliation, even if on its own it seemed rather disheartening. With a small groan into the kiss, Shinwoo shifted Jinyoung to sit better against him in his lap, the tent in his pants hard against Jinyoung’s own. Beneath his grey sweatpants, Jinyoung knew, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. It was obvious by the way his dick was sitting, and the thought brought a pleased smile to the younger’s face as he secured his arms around Shinwoo’s neck, running a hand through those famously soft locks, hoisting himself up a little to rub his ass against that crotch, feeling the other hesitate, but not stop. But he didn’t let that get his hopes up, because Shinwoo did this all the time. He seemed okay with it but in fact he wasn’t, and Jinyoung had learned that his co-operation in itself was not a sign that he was ready to go the whole way. But tonight Jinyoung had made sure to be particularly suggestive over dinner and he was hoping Shinwoo would finally get the message.

A small exhale escaped from Shinwoo’s lips as Jinyoung glided his hand over his boyfriend’s bulge, finding it difficult not to just grasp it and start pumping away. No, he wanted to draw this whole thing out for as long as possible so as to tease Shinwoo and make him comeforJinyoung rather than come after Jinyoung. The leader was sick of being the one to have to ask to get something when he just wanted that something to happen on its own. He wanted Shinwoo to want to know him, but not only because he’d asked him too, and as Jinyoung rocked his body forward, their crotches meeting in a single, firm rub, the way Shinwoo’s hands flew to his hips, fingers sliding over Jinyoung’s ass as if he didn’t quite know where to touch made Jinyoung smile just a little, allowing himself some satisfaction over the flustered state of the other male. Progress was progress, and when Jinyoung repeated the action, his mouth still against Shinwoo’s in a kiss that hadn’t lost any of the heat it had begun with, that pair of capable hands lifted him out of their owner’s lap and Jinyoung was pushed back against the bed, the disconnection of their lips allowing Shinwoo to take his shirt off, Jinyoung’s own joining his not moments later. While he had been restraining his thoughts before, now Jinyoung let them sail in every which direction as a small groan was made into the kiss, Shinwoo settling comfortably, almost urgently between Jinyoung’s parted legs, his previously neat hair a mess. Running his hands through them, Jinyoung couldn’t help but give a small chuckle at the way Shinwoo was now sweeping Jinyoung’s hair back, tugging his lower lip between his teeth, his breathing starting to grow shallow. It was dark in the room but the light that came in through the window was enough to illuminate the soft curve of Shinwoo’s biceps, the outline of his torso, making his hipbones look all the more tempting. A nudge, and Jinyoung tilted his head to the side to allow Shinwoo access as he started to nip his way down the side of his neck. He was doing it with an impatience that the leader had never felt from him before and the thought that came to his head, that maybe tonight was the night, was immediately confirmed when Shinwoo put a hand over Jinyoung’s, the one that had been stroking over the delicious bump of his hipbone, and lowered it into his pants, guiding those slender fingers to wrap around his cock, the contact making the muscle twitch right in Jinyoung’s hands.

“Fuck…,” Jinyoung had never heard Shinwoo swear before, and under the circumstances it made it sound all the more pleasant to Jinyoung’s ears, the noise going straight to his own groin. He began moving his hands at a pace he knew was achingly slow up and down his boyfriend’s member, passing his thumb over the slit before his hand travelled south again, opening his eyes for a moment to glance at the door he knew was closed and locked. Everyone else was asleep, nobody was aware that they were together like this, but that didn’t mean he could be as loud as he wanted, yet Shinwoo’s chest heaving against his own, hard breathing in his ear and ministrations at the base of his neck told Jinyoung it was an impossible task to stay quiet and he let out a small moan as Shinwoo’s mouth made its way along his collarbone. Fingers were played against Jinyoung’s nipples, and he found himself unable to hold back, his hand leaving the hot insides of the grey sweatpants and scrabbling to hold onto Shinwoo’s wrists as Shinwoo pressed and pinched at all the sweet spots along Jinyoung’s torso, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And it seemed that he did because as if the fingers had not been enough, Shinwoo flicked his tongue once against the hardened bud of Jinyoung’s nipple, the sensation left behind from the previous pinching combined with the pucker of his lips around it as Shinwoo began sucking made Jinyoung wonder if all this time, Shinwoo had been the one teasing him, watching him become frustrated only to know at the back of his mind that he was going to give it to him good one day. The thought of that made Jinyoung feel weak, never mind the way Shinwoo was now freeing Jinyoung’s jeans and underwear from his hips – it was an odd habit Jinyoung had developed, wearing his skinny jeans to sleep – but Shinwoo made quick work of them as if they hadn’t been like a second skin, discarding them immediately, not hesitating much at the sight of his boyfriend’s slender frame completely exposed before him. The air was cold but the combination of their body heat made it bearable.

Shinwoo’s eyes traveled over his boyfriend’s skin, appreciating every bare inch of it, holding onto one of his hands as he lowered his mouth to the base of Jinyoung’s cock, mouthing against it, his tongue following the ridge of one of the veins. It was a move Jinyoung had been totally unprepared for and he jerked forward involuntarily, only to be flattened against the bed with Shinwoo’s other hand at his thigh. He led Jinyoung’s own hand to the back of his head, freeing up his own to hold Jinyoung completely still as he kissed his way up his shaft, engulfing half of his cock in one go with ease, and if Jinyoung had been able to pay enough attention to the way Shinwoo was letting his tip touch the inside of the older’s cheek, tongue pressed up against the underside of his shaft as he slipped Jinyoung further into his mouth, he would have realized that Shinwoo did, actually, know exactly what he was doing and he was doing it with an effortlessness that could not be afforded to anyone who had either not ever done this before or had been going over it for a long time in his mind.  But Jinyoung was too busy letting his moans filter out into the room, not knowing whether to be mad or happy, mad because Shinwoo was making a mess out of him already and they hadn’t even gotten to the sex, or happy because this was exactly what he wanted. Still in hindsight he was used to being the tease, and now that Shinwoo was the one rendering him helpless it made him feel like he hadn’t been able to keep up his game. The slight annoyance he felt at himself however quickly dissipated only to be replaced by overwhelming pleasure when he felt Shinwoo’s lips touch the base of his cock, the feeling of having such tight, wet heat wrapped around his length unlike anything Jinyoung had ever experienced, beyond the scope of all he had ever thought it would feel like and he thrust up, barely feeling Shinwoo force him back down, too busy groaning at the feeling of his boyfriend’s cheeks hollowed around his dick. A few bobs of his head and Shinwoo already had Jinyoung ready to be tipped over the edge, but of course the former didn’t let that happen and when Jinyoung let out what would be his last, strangled cry at the dart of Shinwoo’s tongue across the head of his cock, he pulled away with a loud inhale, with Jinyoung’s eyes flying open and whining at the loss, only to focus his mouth on kisses at the back of Jinyoung’s thighs. The occasional passing of his fingers over Jinyoung’s entrance made the younger shudder in anticipation, tensing up each time it happened, and Shinwoo, sensing his boyfriend’s apprehension, made his way back up to cup one of his cheeks with a hand, stroking his thumb at the edge of Jinyoung’s eyes as he looked into them with a characteristically tender and reassuring gaze.

“Don’t worry,” Shinwoo mumbled, his eyes never leaving Jinyoung’s. Jinyoung swore that at that moment he had already dipped his fingertip just inside his entrance, as if Shinwoo had really thought talking him through it would be enough to alleviate any of the discomfort and pain he would be feeling. “I’ll be gentle,” I’m always gentle. He finished his five word speech with a kiss that had Jinyoung’s heart racing off at a mile a second again, his tough façade crumbling instantly against his boyfriend’s unwavering sensitivity, nodding and finally letting his nervousness show through his words as he told Shinwoo that he was ready and to just take it slow.

How he had managed to lubricate his fingers, Jinyoung didn’t know, but the instant one of them slid into him, Jinyoung reached out with one of his hands to grasp the arm of his boyfriend, knowing he should’ve known that Shinwoo would have covered all the bases to make this experience as comfortable as possible for both of them.  As unnecessary as it was deemed to be between two guys, Jinyoung wouldn’t doubt it if someone told him Shinwoo even had a box of condoms, but they had talked about it before and Shinwoo had agreed that they wouldn’t need one. It was painful and made Jinyoung squirm, but he did his best to keep down about it and become accustomed to the feeling, and when another finger found its way in, Jinyoung found a way to move himself against them so that it didn’t feel so foreign, knowing this was nothing compared to how Shinwoo would feel inside him. And God, Shinwoo. It was impossible not to notice how big he was, especially when the damned stylists made him wear white pants, and when Shinwoo decided Jinyoung was ready, he positioned himself between his leader’s legs, a hand around his own cock to guide himself in, Jinyoung couldn’t help but curse his good luck.

It would hurt. But he knew that once he got used to it, he would only be thinking about how amazing it felt.

To muffle the strangled moan that would inevitably be torn from Jinyoung’s mouth, Shinwoo kissed him with a firmness that was nevertheless overshadowed by the sharp sensation Jinyoung felt as that cock breached his entrance, their groans mingling amidst the mess of tongue and uneven breaths they called a kiss. Shinwoo furrowed his brows at the sheer tightness – his judgement of just how tight it would be had been wrong, he realized – and he tried not to let his uneasiness over the situation manifest itself as he only guided himself further in, Jinyoung arching his hips into the movement, knowing that it was now or never and he didn’t want to ruin it by backing out because he was too afraid of how he was making Jinyoung feel. Pausing before he was fully in to allow Jinyoung some time to adjust, to get used to him, Shinwoo kept up his promise, stroking his fingers soothingly against that one slick of skin on Jinyoung’s arm that was the one spot the leader always liked to be touched to be calmed right down from a tantrum, whispering, though weakly, into his ear that he loved him. It wasn’t the first time he had ever said this but it made a tingle go right down Jinyoung’s spine and he nodded, unable to form a response, mustering up the last bit of pride he had about being the one in control of the relationship to wrap his legs around Shinwoo’s waist, pulling their bodies closer together and moaning as the action made Shinwoo’s cock slide deeper inside him.

It didn’t take long after that.

Shinwoo had supported himself up on his elbows, his kisses short and harsh between pants as he worked his hips against Jinyoung, the friction so hot Jinyoung could no longer remember whether or not Shinwoo had actually used lube this time round. Not that it mattered, with his walls becoming so raw, so sensitive that he swore he could feel every groove of Shinwoo’s cock as it slammed into him, neither of them bothering to let their awareness of where they were and who they were with inside the dorm restricting them to stifled sounds of pleasure – it was their first time, and they wanted to let it play out exactly the way it should have. Eventually Jinyoung found his bearings, twisting a hand in Shinwoo’s hair to tug him forward, their tongues clashing together, making plans to turn the situation over (literally) until, as if on cue, Shinwoo’s hand found itself around Jinyoung’s dick and he began jerking him off to the tempo of his thrusts, rendering Jinyoung helpless again, his hands scrabbling for purchase on another he could get his fingers around, the combination of it all, the mouth, the rock of Shinwoo’s hips against his, the expert grip around his member working him towards his orgasm. He came before Shinwoo did, almost when Shinwoo’s hand was beginning to hurt from all the stroking he was doing, and the older dropped his hand with an almost relieved grunt, lifting Jinyoung’s legs just a little more and squeezing his eyes shut when the small shift changed how everything felt, sweat dotting his brow as his pace reached its maximum, his arms growing weak as he continued to support himself on his elbows. His groans were punctuated with stunted bursts of incoherent sentences, Jinyoung unable to ignore the way Shinwoo’s stomach tightened, the way the veins on the side of his boyfriend’s neck popped out from all the strain, gave the other encouraging moans, knowing just how to lower his voice to make Shinwoo go crazy. Moving his hands to brush feverishly through Jinyoung’s hair, the older came within a few roughly placed thrusts that had Jinyoung arching his back off the mattress, barely containing the strained noise that was elicited from his mouth at how it felt to be filled.

When it was all over, when they had both caught their breath, and when Shinwoo slowly pulled out, their foreheads still pressed together as their pants mingled in the air between them, Jinyoung couldn’t help but shoot a pathetic glare at the other, coupling it with a push against Shinwoo’s chest.

“You liar,” he huffed. “You said you were too nervous to do any of this,”

“I wasn’t lying… I was just seeing how long you could take it before you gave in yourself,”

“Shin Dongwoo, I swear…,”

The colour of the wallpaper is more watery oatmeal than beige, and the dinner they had was far from worth it, but all thoughts of overdone steak when it had been ordered rare is forgotten when Howon bunches Myungsoo’s shirt up in his fists and holds him against the wall, kissing him madly.

“Isn’t this a little… suspicious?”

It was what Myungsoo had first uttered when Howon led him here, hand tight around his elbow. They’re both used to layering up when they want to be inconspicuous but the hotel is gaudy and the frequent bellboys at each corner meant the knot in Myungsoo’s chest had only grown more uncomfortable on the elevator ride up. Surely among the many they’ve seen, someone recognizes them, and they’re both men but they’ve booked a hotel room for one night with the works and there’s not much else that can be assumed from that.

Howon hadn’t answered. There was no need for too much convincing, and little resistance now as Howon’s hand makes its way down Myungsoo’s body and palming the boy’s length. He keeps Myungsoo pinned against the wall, their faces close, Howon's etched with command as he kneads his hand right over Myungsoo’s groin until he’s able to put his fingers around something hard.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

And it’s then that his lips find the skin of Myungsoo’s neck and they make their way down to the crook of his shoulder as he works the top few buttons free, pushing the shirt down to Myungsoo’s elbows and marking a discreet little spot against that pale shoulder with his teeth.  He knows exactly what he’s doing but Myungsoo doesn’t, still in that state of shock at the fact that this is really happening and he just keeps his eyes downcast, eventually mustering the energy to sift his fingers through Howon’s hair, and when his hyung settles on his knees, it doesn’t take a genius to know where Myungsoo’s mind has gone.

“No… oh God.”

Myungsoo’s never had a blow job before. And to think that Howon of all people is going to change that is something of a mystery to Myungsoo, whose back slips against the wall as his fly is undone, his most worn pair of plain black pants down to his knees. He steps out of them and Howon tortures him with a teasing drag of his tongue across his thick lower lip, faint glimmers of sweat dotting his brow – it’s a movement Myungsoo can’t help but track with eyes attentive as anything and he can’t help but moan at the sight, his hips moving forward instinctively. There’s a chuckle but Howon doesn’t cluck and berate him like he usually does (Myungsoo’s sexual naivety and desperation has always been a teasing point for him), instead staying silent and skipping past the verbal foreplay to kiss over the wet spot in Myungsoo’s briefs.

The silence is a little unbearable.

It’s because Myungsoo can only hear the rasps he calls breathing and the wet sounds that Howon’s mouth makes when they idly work their way up and around Myungsoo’s bare shaft, following the soft grooves of the veins that are there. It’s painful, really painful, because he’s being so purposefully slow, keeping his kisses tinged with that hint of disinterest and Myungsoo swears because he doesn’t want to go through with this anymore: “oh my God Hoya just hurry the fuck up” but his pleas are met with no response. He tries again, hand pushing against Howon’s head, but all he gets is a warning slap on the ass and “you didn’t say the right thing, moron”. Yet before Myungsoo – “moron” – can correct himself, Howon’s groaning and for the briefest of moments Myungsoo’s lifted off the carpet, thrown onto the bed before he can collect himself and then that’s when he gets what he wants.

A classic scene, Myungsoo knows, and he can only describe it in a classic way – through the fogginess surrounding his rationality he thinks to himself that this is heavenly, the way his body is finally free from all his clothes, the way Howon’s face is buried against his crotch, grunts and licking sounds reaching Myungsoo’s ear in a marvellous symphony. And the wet heat that’s closed around his length like nothing he could ever have imagined has Myungsoo setting both hands, firm and demanding, in Howon’s hair, his stomach clenching and relaxing with each slide and draw of Howon’s tongue, his breathing becoming erratic, his words even more so, as he swears more than he had ever in any year in his life previously. His blood is boiling and his skin feels like its burning with it as one of his hands grapple with the material of Howon’s shirt (why the hell was that still on?) and the more he tugs, he finds the more Howon groans, and soon the older man’s had enough and he strips the damn thing off.

Jesus, Myungsoo. Impatient dick.

Someday, someday Myungsoo will get Howon back for all the name-calling. The dancer’s chest is nothing new to Myungsoo’s eyes but for his fingers to be running over it, for his tongue to be catching into the hollow of his collarbone, it’s a completely different story. Howon doesn’t let him play for too long, a low rumble of a chuckle at how utterly fascinated Myungsoo seems followed by a “you haven’t felt anything yet, kitten,” and why Myungsoo’s being likened to a cat Myungsoo doesn’t know but he convinces himself that it sounds erotic, because when Howon’s flipping him over onto his stomach anything to his ears would sound nice, really, especially when Howon’s still clothed bulge is pressed to his bare ass and—

Oh.

At first Myungsoo supports himself up on his elbows so he can turn his head and watch without the position being awkward, but Howon forces him back down, the fabric of his tight jeans somehow cruel against the tender skin of Myungsoo’s behind. And the belt adds a whole other element, the metal cool when it comes into contact with Myungsoo’s flesh, and he flinches because the edges are sharp and he’s sensitive there. Howon grins and twists a hand in his lover’s locks, tilting his head to the side so they can kiss, tentative at first but then feverish and desperate in the play of tongue against tongue. “Good kitten,”, then Myungsoo lets his body become inert (though his cock twitches with need) when he hears the tinkle of Howon unbuckling his belt, the “…motherfucker” still tormenting Myungsoo’s senses as he drags his zipper down with an excruciating slowness.

“Fuck you Hoya.”

“What?” And Myungsoo’s about to answer but then his body bucks and Howon flattens it with a simple grip on his waist, his right index finger slick with saliva as it pumps readily in and out of Myungsoo’s hole. The action has Myungsoo struggling to string words together and when Howon realizes his hand is useless at keeping him still from squirming so much, he uses it instead to smack a redness at Myungsoo’s ass, relishing the noise it tears from the singer’s throat as he jumps, unused to being treated so. Hair becomes matted, fingers slip in the sheets for purchase and finally Myungsoo’s a moaning, writhing mess, in other words ready in Howon’s experience. He doesn’t loosen his jeans past his knees, finding them unrestricting and helpful in adding that extra element to the sex because he’s still partially clothed and Myungsoo isn’t. He doesn’t want to show that he’s just as excited, if not more so, than Myungsoo is but it gets pretty damn hard to hide anything when the tip of his cock is encased, and he knows Myungsoo’s a virgin, but “damn it, kitten,”and it takes all of Howon’s patience to not just ram straight in and get on with it. One hand bracing himself upright, Howon’s brow knits and his jaw is slack with awe yet set with concentration as he watches his dick being engulfed, not the first time he’s ever done a guy, but the first time the guy’s ever been as unblemished and innocent as Myungsoo. It’s not this position that Howon likes most, but it’s the easiest and best for the first time round, and when he’s halfway in (the way Myungsoo’s holding onto him is incredible), he props Myungsoo up by the hips, urging the boy to be on his knees and hands, knowing the shift in position is what makes Myungsoo’s throat go dry, his voice hoarse as he groans in response with a hint of self-consciousness.

“Don’t worry. You’re perfect.”

It’s the most loving thing Howon’s said to him, ever, but Myungsoo doesn’t let himself melt into the sudden nicety because he knows it won’t last. And sure enough, once Howon confirms that Myungsoo’s not going to slip from how he is, he pulls Myungsoo back onto his cock, sheathing himself to the hilt and the pain that shoots through Myungsoo’s body is something unparalleled by anything he’s ever experienced and he curses, a vein pulsing at the side of his neck. Fucking is the only thing Howon hears, and the rapper laughs, his jeans still pooled around his knees.

“You’ve thought about this.”

A single thrust. Quickly – out, back in, then out.

“This has gotten you off before,” “At night,” “I hear you,”

Myungsoo has always believed that first times should be sweeter than this. But if there had to be one thing idol life taught him, it’s that time doesn’t wait for anybody.

“Okay kitten. Let me see you prove yourself.”

It’s as much of a warning as Myungsoo’s ever going to get before Howon’s securing him in place with a hardened grip at his hips, moving the younger man’s body to meet his thrusts. They’re deep, angled, knowing movements, not at all careless in pleasuring Myungsoo, and though Howon has yet to start jerking him off, Myungsoo’s cock is already throbbing in anticipation. His arms begin to weaken and he slackens against the bed, ass still up, still red, being kept red from the repeated spanks of Howon’s palm against the cheeks, and when Howon can tell Myungsoo can’t keep himself upright even like this for much longer he lets the boy drop, boneless, against the mattress.

“Good enough.” Open-mouthed kisses are planted all down Myungsoo’s neck, and there’s the distant jingle of someone exiting from their room on their floor as Howon flattens his body against Myungsoo’s, the toned plane of his stomach pushing Myungsoo’s senses into mania. There’s the light glide of those abs against Myungsoo’s back and then there’s the ache inside him as Howon powers on, the roll of his hips relentless as he’s on his elbows, encouraging Myungsoo with gruff words that come off as hot breaths against the visual’s neck, his eyes not missing a single strain of Myungsoo’s muscles as the boy’s veins catch fire, the pressure building in his own groin at the sight.

But of course, he wants Myungsoo to be the one coming first, so he reaches a hand beneath Myungsoo’s body, expert fingers curling around his shaft and pumping fast. It’s all very vanilla, Howon not bothering with any fancy tricks, but it’s exactly what Myungsoo needs to be sent over the edge. His body creates a beautiful arc as he lifts off the bed, seemingly sucking his stomach in, as he spills over Howon’s hand, hot and unchecked – “yeah, let me hear you, kitten”, and Howon milks him through it with obvious impatience. Fingers now webbed with cum, Howon daubs the corner of Myungsoo’s lips with it as the rest of it is smeared unceremoniously down that pale back as he began to move to reach his own climax – an ends that he meets with a hitched, startled groan when his lover suddenly steadies himself with erotic confidence and grinds his ass back up against Howon’s crotch, fitting him deeper. The deliberate clench of muscles around Howon’s cock means that’s it: he’s filling Myungsoo, a feeling he knows Myungsoo won’t ever forget. “Oh fuck… fuck,” Myungsoo’s breath is stolen from him again as he detects the warmth shooting inside him, and he turns his head just in time to meet Howon’s lips. There’s those annoyingly unsympathetic pulls on Myungsoo’s hair again as Howon’s cock softens and slips free of the confines of Myungsoo’s walls, and even in the aftermath, the older man’s chest is heaving laboriously and when he’s not tasting the inside of Myungsoo’s mouth, he’s taking in loud gulps of air.

It’s clear he’s utterly exhausted.

“Tired after one round? Did I really feel so good I drained you clean?”

Firm fingers find the soft flesh of Myungsoo’s neck, and for a moment his breath cuts off.

“Shut the fuck up,”

Myungsoo’s eyes only widen for the most fleeting of seconds but Howon catches it and laughs, patting him like he’s a cat, still resting atop him, kissing Myungsoo in the silence that follows.

Myungsoo’s brooding, so Sunggyu slips in bed beside him. At first, he’s just sitting on the covers and Myungsoo’s under them, his back to Sunggyu, a decidedly cute mound beneath white blanket. Sunggyu doesn’t know what it’s all about, but he’s ready to assume it’s about some ex, long ago. Or maybe someone had stretched his patience earlier in the day, which isn’t as hard a feat as anybody realizes: Myungsoo’s still the second youngest, and he still has a temper. He’s just very competent with controlling himself. But he has his days and this is one of them, and nobody can make him feel better but Sunggyu.

Well… not really Sunggyu thinks as he lays a hand lightly on what he knows is Myungsoo’s shoulder. Contrary to popular belief amongst the boys, he doesn’t make Myungsoo feel better per se: he helps him forget. And then the feeling better comes afterward. Everyone has a hunch about what Sunggyu actually does but nobody’s ever really confirmed it: the possibility that their perception of the truth might be correct acts as a constant deterrence because nobody really wants to know when somebody’s just been laid, right there in the dorm. They’re close, but discussions about their sex lives are still things that don’t go beyond a ten word conversation. Working on a need-to-know basis, they only tell if they’re asked, and even when they’re questioned about that mysterious smile that keeps appearing on their faces or that conspicuous bruise below their ear, all that’s needed is an affirmative look – details are unnecessary. Revealing too much often resulted in a dampened group mentality. It’s a guy thing – jealousy tends to brew when one man is somehow fitting someone who would provide them physical or emotional attention amongst their schedules, and the others can’t.

Of course for Sunggyu, doing that is easy what with said person being Myungsoo.

Words are never really needed between the two when they’re together: body language is always more than sufficient, but it’s not Sunggyu’s style to just go straight for it. He has more patience and is classier than that. He doesn’t just want to be a fuck buddy, but also a confidante, one who provides more than physical comfort and sexual relief. He likes Myungsoo perhaps more than Myungsoo likes him, which is why he goes that extra mile, but there’s no rush in his subtle enticing of Myungsoo’s heart, because he knows he has plenty of time and a lot of leverage. Pair those together, Sunggyu muses, and he’s got a shortcut to success. As far as he knows (and he knows a lot), Myungsoo doesn’t really have a love life. Sunggyu can relate. Their lives are filled with brief flirtations that never mature past glances in a hallway or brushes of hands backstage. With the constant arrival of fresh, younger faces, it’s hard to keep your tabs on the ones you like.

“L,” Sunggyu beckons, squeezing Myungsoo’s shoulder. And when he doesn’t respond, he tries with a soft “Myungsoo” and the boy shifts but doesn’t emerge from beneath the blanket. Not stubborn, but in a mentally dormant state, so Sunggyu gives a small tug on the blanket and kisses the tip of Myungsoo’s ear when it’s uncovered, and it flushes a light, embarrassed pink as it always does. The colour reaches Myungsoo’s cheeks too, but whether it’s because it’s unseasonably warm in the room or it’s because of Sunggyu’s touch, neither of them know.

“You’ll be okay…,” Sunggyu’s voice tapers off into a whisper as he brushes the short strands of hair free from where it is pressed to Myungsoo’s temple, laying a kiss there too. He begins like this: slow, barely-there kisses with minimal touching, until Myungsoo relents and begins to return the kisses. But even then their foreplay is slow, and one might almost call it lazy: but for them, the whole process is a very serious one. For them it isn’t fucking, but they wouldn’t call it making love either, though the latter is probably what it’s closer to. Not that the kinkiness of otherwise of the sex is a classifying factor as to deciding whether a couple is fucking or making love,  but vastly different images are evoked by either word, and Sunggyu prefers to think that he’s not just screwing Myungsoo. That much is evident through the way he touches Myungsoo all over from the outside of his clothes first, not desperate to feel the heat of their skin touching. And Myungsoo’s not anxious to get to it either: because he’s the one in a mood, he lags with running his fingers down Sunggyu’s arm, and Sunggyu’s okay with how still he is. Despite how he is normally, he isn’t finicky, and he’s the one who undresses them both, and there’s an intense rush of body heat unfurling against Sunggyu’s own bare skin when he finally gets his own shirt off. It’s this feverish heat that Sunggyu thrives on and their bodies meet with a groan from Myungsoo, whose lips begin to feel less rigid with that touch of defiance when they kiss again, because Sunggyu’s naked against him and it’s obviously hard to resist (or pretend you’re immune to Sunggyu’s advances) when it gets to this point.

Myungsoo admires Sunggyu’s patience. He doesn’t really do much beyond returning the kisses, his broad hands trailing their way at a snail’s pace over Sunggyu’s body, slipping under his arms to run down his torso, lingering over the cleft in his back. He rarely feels up to a blow job, but Sunggyu’s mentioned before that he thought that a waste of time when they could do this. And though Myungsoo communicates many things with him during these encounters he can’t tell the man peppering kisses down his neck how grateful he is for this love… or, if it’s not love, this understanding. One day Myungsoo will return the favours, but today’s not that day yet. He doesn’t feel up to it. The timing’s not right and nothing’s worse than proposing something too early.

“Legs open, babe,” Sunggyu whispers, his voice down in that husky tone that nobody’s ever really heard but Myungsoo, and it’s the babe that really gets to Myungsoo, each and every time. There’s something dirty about it, and when he spreads his legs and feels the swipe of lube against his ass, Sunggyu’s fingers just dipping into his entrance, he feels that there’s something entrancing about it too, because the four letter word has him completely pliant in Sunggyu’s hands.

“Nng…,”

Myungsoo’s chest tightens and a grunt stops in his throat. This part always feels new to him even though it isn’t, pricks of pain telling him that Sunggyu’s got that first finger in, curling it against Myungsoo’s walls. The stretch isn’t unbearable until that second finger, and it’s then that Myungsoo’s back really arches off the bed, trying to find a way to make it feel less invasive and more pleasurable, but that’s not his job:  Sunggyu hushes him and kisses his trembling thigh, keeping those legs apart. He moves his fingers in gently, but at a steady, quickening pace, and soon gets Myungsoo to look the way Sunggyu thinks he looks best – dishevelled, flushed, no, flustered, and altogether inviting. It’s really this combination, this glazed look that Myungsoo gives him, that makes Sunggyu forgive how indifferent Myungsoo might seem sometimes. A quick slick of lube and Sunggyu’s aligning himself with Myungsoo’s body, the tip of his cock against then into the younger man’s ass, and Myungsoo shifts and tries to relax, as if his deep inhales and exhales will mean his walls would fit Sunggyu better, quicker.

A swear word is uttered, and Sunggyu’s hand leaves his cock after he’s guided himself in halfway, letting his hips to the rest. He props himself up on his elbows, his own body trembling at the fit, and when they catch each other’s gaze at the moment Myungsoo’s ass has swallowed Sunggyu’s cock entirely, the rush of lust is something they’re equally unprepared for and the meeting of their lips is intense, passionate.

It’s supremely difficult to concentrate on what you were bothered about when your body is torn between deciding whether the feeling coursing through your body is more enjoyable than excruciating. Myungsoo decides it’s excruciatingly enjoyable when Sunggyu starts thrusting into him at that angle that gets Myungsoo’s eyes rolling back, the lurch of Sunggyu’s hips still slower than anyone else might’ve liked, but it lets Myungsoo really feel the throb and heat of Sunggyu’s cock, the drag of it against his walls etched into his memory. Having sex with Sunggyu is about more than Myungsoo’s brain can fathom, and he locks his legs around Sunggyu’s body, pressing into him, wanting as much contact with Sunggyu as possible, and the action has Sunggyu freeing his lips from their kiss to groan, unrestrained, glancing down at the way their bodies meld together.

“You’re really something, aren’t you?” Sunggyu manages to ask, and he looks at Myungsoo, out of breath already, a glint in his eyes. There’s a glint at his skin too, from the reflection of light off the sweat there, and Myungsoo cups Sunggyu’s cheek with a hand, wiping the damp from it. His hand flattens and clenches in needy gropes of Sunggyu’s soft waist and it’s a signal that Sunggyu knows all too well: his breathing becomes ragged and loud, the perfect complement to the slap of skin against skin as he works their bodies together. The slides in and out strain Myungsoo’s control over the volume of his moans and whimpers, his body becoming tense and all he needs is Sunggyu’s mouth to his ear and that’s it, Myungsoo’s stomach tightens and his hips shudder, the sight of his orgasm tipping Sunggyu himself over the edge. A hand is through Myungsoo’s hair, the kisses getting a little rougher with a lot of teeth and tongue and a faint exchange of I love you because it feels appropriate and leaves them feeling less embarrassed, but even when they’ve caught their breaths it isn’t the end of their being together. Sunggyu wipes Myungsoo down as best he can as they are, lying on the bed, and he pulls on a pair of pants should anyone walk in (but they shouldn’t).

Myungsoo gets emotional after what they do. Sunggyu kisses his brow and hugs him right against his chest until he can feel the other boy’s body slacken, which means he’s falling asleep. He can’t sleep when he’s bothered, so when he does, Sunggyu breathes a quiet sigh of content. If it weren’t for the way Myungsoo always held onto him, Sunggyu would feel utterly used, but the curl of Myungsoo’s fingers around his arm, gripping on as if for dear life with his face in Sunggyu’s chest is what convinces the leader he’s more than what it looks like to other people. Trying not to move too much, Sunggyu’s slightly uncomfortable with how he is, lying on his side (he likes it best when he’s on his back), but he doesn’t want to stir Myungsoo, whose eyes are moving beneath his lids. Dreaming, Sunggyu knows. Hopefully of better things than what had been plaguing him before and he strokes those jet-black locks with a touch of adoration, the rise and fall of Myungsoo’s chest calm. Someone calls for Sunggyu and his expression quickly slips into an attentive one, his entire body tensing as his head snaps towards the noise, his body lifting up off the bed just a bit. It’s this small procession that has Myungsoo’s hand tightening around Sunggyu’s bicep, the hold vice, and Sunggyu’s mouth goes dry when Myungsoo murmurs something. And it’s just loud enough for Sunggyu to hear:

“Don’t… please,”

And he hated more that Myungsoo was taken.

Myungsoo has a habit, Sunggyu’s realized, of saying rather suggestive things and not thinking anything of it. Probably because he’s got a girlfriend and he thinks he’s immune to the sexual tension the comments he makes produces, which is true – it prevents anyone from acting on it because at the back of their minds they’re thinking Soojung, Soojung, Soojung, which is apparently what Krystal prefers to be called. Or at least prefers Myungsoo to call her, which is the same with him – he tells her to call him by his proper Korean name, and not “L”. Sunggyu guesses it would sound too impersonal the other way, and totally not intimate at all, and boy are they intimate. Myungsoo’s a touchy person: a statement of the obvious, evidenced by the many times he’s laid his wandering hands and arms on another member, and Sunggyu can’t help but beat himself up a little over not treasuring those enough. Or acting on those when he could’ve without feeling guilty about perhaps stepping over the line a little. The leader remembers that when they all found out that Myungsoo has successfully nabbed himself a girlfriend, from there on in, everyone avoided Myungsoo and skinship like the plague – none of them touched him voluntarily unless it was to guide him off stage, and when he was the one doing the touching everyone looked highly uncomfortable. Sunggyu can’t blame anybody; it was just how it was. But he secretly lives for those moments Myungsoo would hold him again in his arms in bursts of affection. It’s the most he could get from the second youngest of the group, and he’s a little ashamed to say that it gave him some hope that each time Myungsoo’s hand would rub against his thigh – whether by accident or otherwise – that maybe his relationship with Soojung wasn’t going so well and he was falling back to his members. And, preferably, just him: Sunggyu. He knows he says it like he and Myungsoo has had some past fling and they haven’t, but he could very well say that his physical relationship with the guy was far beyond anyone else’s with whom he did share one, like Sungjong. It was because when they were alone, Myungsoo’s hands tended to wander a little. Sunggyu doesn’t know if Myungsoo knows this but they do, but the expressions he wears that always accompanies the action never did reveal a thing about his intentions.

That being said, he never got far. It wasn’t like he had his hands down Sunggyu’s pants and was squeezing the leader’s dick, but if Sunggyu didn’t intercept, he guessed that would be what would have happened. Like that one time Myungsoo sat with him on his bed and Sunggyu was lying beside him, both of them scrolling through their mentions on Twitter and gossiping. They were chatting away as per normal, but then the conversation died and they were both just sitting and lying there. Whether Myungsoo was still going through the raunchier of the mentions, Sunggyu didn’t know, but soon his hand had found the flat pane of Sunggyu’s stomach – the leader’s shirt had ridden up, exposing it – and it was like he was trying to memorize each inch of bare skin there, slowly running his fingers across Sunggyu’s navel, and occasionally his fingertips would bump against the waistband of Sunggyu’s sweatpants. That little bit of contact had ignited something in Sunggyu and he’d glanced at Myungsoo and gotten nothing in return. The younger always had that tendency to just space out while he was doing things so Sunggyu had taken this as another one of those times. Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doingSunggyu had thought, and so he’d ignored it. But then Myungsoo’s fingers were ghosting over the fabric of his sweats, right near his crotch and Sunggyu sat up with a cough, almost dropping his phone in the process.

“Oh, you’re back?” Sunggyu turns from where he is, standing in front of the kitchen sink. Oddly enough he’s wearing the same grey sweats and that “ugly” white t-shirt that’s got coffee stains all over it. The view from the window isn’t anything interesting but Sunggyu pretends to be fixated by the rooftops of the other buildings, sipping at the dregs of his instant coffee. Today was the kind of day that anyone else would’ve found a waste of time to stay indoors – the sky didn’t have a cloud in sight and the sun was bright and fat but not causing a literal hell on Earth with its heat. It’s why Sunggyu’s alone and it’s only eleven thirty am, because everyone else had found the motivation to bring themselves outdoors. He’s sure Sungyeol and Sungjong are squabbling and shopping somewhere, probably with Woohyun and Dongwoo in tow, though as fashion-forward as Woohyun claims to be he’s probably more focused on getting the attention of the females in the mall than anything else. Probably by punching Dongwoo a lot in the stomach and making loud jokes. Hoya’s got that interview about Reply 1997, the only one of them with an actual schedule.

“Yeah,” Myungsoo drops his bag by the door and approaches Sunggyu. He looks more rumpled than usual but Sunggyu’s come to realize that’s how he looks best. “The script-reading wasn’t actually a script-reading at all. They just told us to scan the pages to see if they’d misprinted any, and then someone came in, and everything went…,” he made a gesture that told Sunggyu that people got distracted and off track and Sunggyu laughs.

“I see,” he says. He’s secretly, extremely proud of Myungsoo’s acting career. While Sunggyu’s got that cameo going for him, he doesn’t think he has much more. He’s not the acting type, he thinks, but he’s had a taste now and he knows what it’s like. “Well, at least you’re home. Someone to keep me company,”

He’s turned back to the sink and Myungsoo nods. He can smell the coffee off Sunggyu, but whether it’s from his shirt or his cup, he doesn’t know. Either way it smells slightly burnt and absolutely great. Myungsoo knows he can’t tell Sunggyu, but he’s always loved the way the leader smelled. He had that sort of smell that intoxicated you in small doses, pulling you in, wanting you close. If you wanted to smell more you had to be right up against his skin and even then it didn’t seem like close enough. Myungsoo knows, because Myungsoo’s tried. He doesn’t know if Sunggyu remembers, but when the older man fell asleep on him once, in his lap, Myungsoo had leapt at the opportunity to finally let himself succumb to the Sunggyu scent. He knew it had been a dangerous move, especially with the others lurking around the dorm, but he’d leaned down and he’d kissed the neck that was all exposed before him… and luckily for him, Sunggyu hadn’t budged. And okay, he’d done a little more than just kiss: he’d run the tip of nose up and down a strip of skin, not letting his eyes close, taking in every bit he could of Sunggyu that he could only see up this close. Seeing those lips parted as he breathed in repose, Myungsoo had wanted to kiss them, just once, just to see what his lips tasted like, but he hadn’t. If he was to taste them, he wanted Sunggyu to be awake.

“Sunggyu hyung…,” Myungsoo whispers. He’s unable to help himself as he presses his tongue in a soft lick against Sunggyu’s neck, relishing how tender it is, and he almost gets lost in it. He lets his eyes fall closed, finally, and he can feel his pants tighten as one of his hands begin to wander down the older’s torso, annoyed he’s wearing so much, but it’s cold after all, and Sunggyu can’t brave that. And then Myungsoo can’t help it, no, especially not after his hands have found the delicious bump of Sunggyu’s hipbone, not after his fingers have followed that small, almost untraceable little line that leads straight into Sunggyu’s pants, and he begins to suck a little on that neck. He can’t describe the taste as anything but Sunggyu, and he struggles to keep from slipping his hands further into those pants, but he wants to jack Sunggyu off, he wants to wake him by giving him that sort of pleasure, but he knows he can’t. He gets sort of carried away nevertheless, and he’s still surprised to this day that Sunggyu never woke during it, but Myungsoo’s hands had gotten a good feel of his thighs and he’d kissed down his neck and along his collarbone, rolling his shirts down a little to get at small patches of his chest, and the next day when Myungsoo sees the tiny red mark on Sunggyu’s neck that everyone else passes off as a bug bite, he smiles.

“Where’ve the others gone?” Myungsoo asks as Sunggyu rinses his cup out. He doesn’t usually do this and it surprises Myungsoo a little bit. He sets the cup upside down on the rack to let it drip dry and he turns to face Myungsoo. He’s closer than he’d previously thought and Sunggyu’s heart skips a beat.

“Shopping,” he sighs, as if shopping was the most tedious activity ever. “They took a cab out an hour ago and already Sungyeol’s sent me a photo of something really lame,”

Myungsoo laughs, a low rumble of a sound that makes the tips of Sunggyu’s ears turn red.

“As always. Give them another twenty and they’ll send you a photo of Dongwoo embarrassing himself in front of a crowd,”

“Most probably,” a sigh, then Sunggyu turns away. He knows if he stays that close face to face with Myungsoo he won’t be able to hold back much longer. It’s a cue for Myungsoo to take a step back, but he doesn’t take it, and Sunggyu wonders why he can’t bring himself to put distance between them.

There’s an uncomfortable silence and Myungsoo looks down at the floor. Sunggyu asks, “how’s Krystal?” because he feels awkward calling her Soojung.

“She’s alright,” comes the answer. Myungsoo sounds a little bit exasperated and Sunggyu’s hope soar faster than the rising prices at their favourite pastry shop. “I mean, she’s not really at her phone much, and she hasn’t got many schedules at the moment. I don’t know what she’s doing and it irks me,”

“Ah,” Sunggyu shrugs, not knowing what to say. Myungsoo mirrors the gesture.

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “I’m not looking for some comfort. Just telling it like it is,”

“I’m sorry anyway,” Sunggyu begins slowly. “But you know this was how it was going to be when you got into the relationship,” he’s guessing the puppy-love chemistry that’s present at the beginning of every relationship has disappeared and Myungsoo’s finally feeling the grind of reality, that they can’t see each other much at all. Not like us Sunggyu can’t help but think. We can see each other all the time.

“Nothing can be done,” Myungsoo responds hastily, and his tone clearly indicates that the topic was not to be continued.

“Did you want anything to eat?” Sunggyu pipes up almost instantly. “I was about to fix myself brunch,”

“You just got up?”

“Got up, yeah, but I woke up earlier. I was just lounging around in bed,”

“We could do that,”

“Do what?”

“Lounge around in bed,” Myungsoo’s looking at Sunggyu with the same intensity as he always does, which betrays his real intentions, and Sunggyu for the umpteenth time can’t help but think about how unfortunate and unfair this is.

“Nah, you can,” it takes a lot in him to say this but Sunggyu manages it and succeeds in making it sound nonchalant and not at all pained. “I’m done with it,”

Myungsoo’s shoulders tense up, like he wants to say but, but… he doesn’t. Instead he just stays there, watching Sunggyu, his eyes focussed, so Sunggyu can tell he hasn’t just zoned out again. The older man hates this with every cell in his body, more than anything else in the world that he can’t act on what he’s feeling, and he’s certain now that Myungsoo knows. He knows exactly what he does to Sunggyu.

“Come on,” Myungsoo urges quietly. He moves towards Sunggyu and puts an arm around his waist, angling his face near the leader’s so his gaze can’t be avoided. “Nobody’s around,”

For a moment Sunggyu wonders if he’s just imagining things, if he’s really just asleep and dreaming, and the others are still around, getting ready. Hell, he wouldn’t put it past himself to have a wet dream about Myungsoo, not if this was how it went down, with Myungsoo taking hold of his hips as he takes a few steps so he’s behind Sunggyu. His hands don’t move but his crotch does, and his fingers give Sunggyu a light squeeze as he presses the tent in his pants to Sunggyu’s ass.

A sharp breath escapes Sunggyu’s lips and he grips the edge of the sink with whitening knuckles but he doesn’t dare look back, just keeps staring at the rooftops. It’s so quiet that all he can hear is the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional dripping sounds as his mug dries. Nobody moves, not even Myungsoo, but then Sunggyu feels the younger boy slide his cock up and down between his butt cheeks and he lets himself enjoy it for a couple of seconds, dropping his head forward to stare at the small pool of water at the bottom of the sink. He groans, the heat building up in his own sweats, and when Myungsoo kisses his neck and Sunggyu feels his teeth, he knows this isn’t a dream anymore.

“W-wait,” Sunggyu turns around before Myungsoo can stop him from doing so. “What are you doing? You’re—,”

“Taken?” Myungsoo finishes for him. He’s put his hands on Sunggyu again, and this time his eyes have taken on that hungry look Sunggyu’s seen him wear around Sungyeol and Sungjong. “Yeah, well, you know that saying…,” he leans in again and he nibbles at the edge of Sunggyu’s jaw. “…it’s not a crime unless you’re caught,”

Move! Sunggyu’s mind is screaming. But his body isn’t co-operating. Sunggyu has always looked down on cheating. He doesn’t like it, not one bit. He’s an upright guy. But he also knows he can’t say no – it’s impossible to say no to the way Myungsoo’s breath is tickling his cheek as he lets his lips linger near Sunggyu’s, and then they’re kissing.

Having wanted this for the longest time, or what felt like it anyway, Myungsoo doesn’t constrain himself anymore. With a grunt, he pushes his entire body against Sunggyu’s, one arm locked around the older’s waist, the other hand running through his hair as he angles his face to make the fit of their lips perfect together. He can tell Sunggyu’s still hesitant so he persuades him with a grind of his bulge against the other’s, and this pulls a long, helpless groan from Sunggyu, one that tells Myungsoo he’s victorious.

“Jesus,” Sunggyu breathes eventually. “Fine, fine just— just…,”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, and he doesn’t have to: Myungsoo pulls him away and pushes him back against the old mattress they’d dragged out into the middle of the room to serve as a secondary, makeshift couch because Sungyeol somehow always takes up too much space. And though it’s just the ceiling above him Sunggyu feels like he’s seeing much more than that as Myungsoo’s mouth touches his clothed erection.

The visual doesn’t hold back.

They’re both stripped bare in no time, their clothes a mess around the mattress and Sunggyu’s not sure who is groaning – they’re both so loud – when they kiss again. Myungsoo’s mouth leaves his and Sunggyu can’t help but close his eyes and whimper as the younger boy ravages his body with his tongue, kissing along his collarbone, kissing over the same spots he did that other time, groaning in appreciation as his nose picks up every note of Sunggyu’s scent. He still smells like coffee but he smells like other things too, like fresh tissues and the conditioner he uses for his hair. Then there’s something Myungsoo can’t quite place, a musky sort of smell, but it doesn’t matter what it is, because it smells perfect. His every movement is feverish and Sunggyu’s glad to know the other man’s clearly wanted this for a long time in a moment of clarity. There’s a lot of teeth as they taste each other again, the touching heavy. Sunggyu’s hands don’t miss any part of Myungsoo’s body and he wonders if they’re just going to suck each other off in the end, but then Myungsoo’s passed his cock over Sunggyu’s entrance and the older jolts upright, startled.

“Relax,” Myungsoo chuckles, and he manages to nudge Sunggyu back again. Neither of them have ever done this before – with a guy or a girl – so they’re inexperienced either way. Sunggyu’s unsure as to whether he should be allowing a man three years his junior to be the first one screwing him, hell, screwing him at all, but there’s something overpowering about the way Myungsoo’s straddling him and the leader relents.

Myungsoo tries his best to look as if he knows exactly what he’s doing so Sunggyu doesn’t become vexed about it, coating his fingers with the lube he had been keeping in his back pocket in anticipation of this happening. When he’s slid a finger into his partner, though, he doesn’t give him time to adjust to the intrusion; because he knows the more time he gives Sunggyu to worry the more likely he’d want to stop. Sunggyu’s eyebrows are furrowed and he looks pained, but something in his moans tells Myungsoo it’s not too unbearable, and when Sunggyu feels a little more relaxed and the sounds he makes are easier on the ear, Myungsoo adds another finger.

He goes by instinct, scissoring his fingers, still afraid though Sunggyu’s telling him more, more and shifting about on the bed like he just can’t get enough. The head of Myungsoo’s cock is slick with precum and he can already gauge by how his fingers feel how tight it’s going to be inside his leader, so when he finally takes his fingers away and positions himself right, he can hardly contain himself.

“Just relax,” he says again, his enviably deep voice tickling Sunggyu’s ears as Myungsoo presses his face into the elder’s hair. It’s weird, he thinks, that he’s doing this when the other is older, but he also knows age isn’t exactly the deciding factor. And when he pushes the tip of his dick into the other and feels those walls give way for him, the feeling is so great Myungsoo can’t help but groan loud and unrestrained into Sunggyu’s ear, and he’s not even fully in.

“Jesus…,” Sunggyu says for the second time, but this time he sounds strained and Myungsoo lifts his head to get a look at him, and he’s sweating, really sweating, the vein in his neck popping out, just as it did when he sung. “Oh God, Myungsoo…,”

And that’s all Myungsoo needs. He clenches his teeth as he braces himself on Sunggyu’s shoulders, nails digging in as he thrusts forward, just once, the lube making the whole thing much smoother than Myungsoo guessed it would’ve been. The sheets drag beneath the movement and when Myungsoo’s length is entirely sheathed they both can’t quite catch their breath. Then the younger begins to move, and Sunggyu can still find it in himself to find this whole situation kind of unbelievable, but what’s more fantastic is the way Myungsoo is working his hips. He’s angled his cock so Sunggyu can really feel him, and soon his hands have fallen to grip Sunggyu’s waist to keep him from budging too much against the mattress, finding a position that he finds prompts the loudest moans from his lover. The revelation that Sunggyu likes it most when Myungsoo’s angled this way is soon followed by the fact that the older obviously likes it hard and fast, but then again, who doesn’t? Myungsoo’s vision is clouding and he knows he’s close, but he doesn’t want to give Sunggyu the satisfaction of feeling him come first, so he slows his pace down just a tad as he strokes Sunggyu off, his hand hurting a little as he does it with harsh strokes that are unrelenting and which don’t stop even when the white shoots out onto Sunggyu’s stomach. Myungsoo’s surprisingly patient and he waits till every last drop has been squeezed out from Sunggyu’s cock, and when that’s finally done, Myungsoo doesn’t even wait for Sunggyu to catch his breath. He picks up where he left off with his thrusts, slamming into Sunggyu with groans and grunts that fill the room – no, the entire dorm, and Sunggyu can’t really do anything except bear the full brunt of Myungsoo’s cock gliding in and out of him, matching the intensity of Myungsoo’s noises with his own, except his sound more like whimpers than the growls that are coming out from the visual’s mouth.

Of course it doesn’t take long for Myungsoo to fill Sunggyu with his own load, and the sensation of it makes Sunggyu arch off the mattress, and when the younger of the two pulls out the substance trails down his thigh and it makes Sunggyu’s eye roll back in pleasure somehow. He thinks to himself that it’s crazy how something so simple and random can feel so good, but he doesn’t question why, because it’s incredible and Sunggyu doesn’t care about anything else. Everything’s perfect and when Myungsoo kisses him again it’s even better, better than perfect, though theoretically he knows nothing exists above perfection.

“Perfect,” Myungsoo intones as if he’s reading Sunggyu’s mind. “You’re just perfect,”

It was better than what all the stories told him, better than the ways people wrote of butterflies and sparks and fireworks. Loving someone just felt so insane, so unbelievable, and Myungsoo was no newbie to love, but – the cliché police kill him, arrest him, whatever – but he had never felt this way before. Everything Sungjong did would pique his interest, make him look up, sit up – he was attentive at all times but being who he was surrounded by the people he was, he had to stamp that down under that aloof air that everyone always attributed to him. It was hard when his world was Sungjong, when his eyes only saw Sungjong, ears only heard Sungjong… and when Sungjong wasn’t there for him to sidle near close enough to catch a whiff of his scent, Sungjong was omnipresent in his mind. The realization that he and Sungjong could never fully be outside of the privacy of their dorm did little to faze Myungsoo (though he did fret over it sometimes, because he wanted to lavish Sungjong openly) in his chase for something, anything from Sungjong that indicated that the feelings were even a little mutual. And it was painful, because Sungjong was not one to be particularly ostentatious with any other emotion than anger, which he displayed outwardly in the way that he glared and sat simpering. But as to where his affections lay, it was hard to decipher, and while Myungsoo paid him every attention it was still supremely difficult for the elder to gauge Sungjong’s reactions to things that he did. It was frustrating yet this same element that irked him exhilarated him, adding excitement to the chase, and every cell in Myungsoo’s body celebrated whenever Sungjong so much as smiled at him, because it meant he had done something right.

In the beginning, that was as much as Myungsoo received: smiles and soft looks, not indicating whether Sungjong had interpreted Myungsoo’s words or actions (or both) in the exact way Myungsoo had intended. Myungsoo had a hunch that Sungjong thought that it was all a big joke, and he couldn’t blame Sungjong – he was the youngest, and the butt of a lot of jokes and pranks the others made, but Myungsoo figured persistence would show Sungjong that his feelings weren’t false. He had, after all, told Sungjong once: “I love you,”, a statement Myungsoo found surprisingly easy to let slip out after they had wrapped up filming for something, and he guessed he had sounded too flippant, like it had just been something said in passing. Sungjong barely even paused, barely even stopped for even a second to deliberate over whether Myungsoo was serious or not, before he replied “I know, hyung” and even when Myungsoo added “I’m serious” Sungjong only smiled (tightly – Myungsoo remembered very well) and let himself be whisked away by his stylists to get his makeup out.

Myungsoo knew his crush was obvious. The others weren’t blind, deaf or dumb, no matter how many times they made fun of Sunggyu’s supposedly impaired vision due to his not-so-large eyes and Dongwoo’s … special brand of intellect. They knew, and they didn’t comment. They didn’t help him or hold him back either. Their dormancy and neutrality was something to be grateful for, because Myungsoo needed to do this on his own. Any interference might’ve jeopardized the belief he’d created in Sungjong that he was being utterly and completely serious. It was the last thing Myungsoo wanted, for Sungjong to take his chasing and loving as a joke. Yet, Myungsoo thought, even if such a devastation were to occur it would do little to halt him in his constant attempts in vying for Sungjong’s, well, Sungjong’s everything. Love was crazy, love made you do crazy things – and this was love alright.

He only hoped his love was enough.

Where this all began, Myungsoo had long forgotten – but he still had that first snap of Sungjong after he’d realized his crush and had waited long enough so that his hands stopped shaking when he was poised to take a photo of Sungjong, to … take the photo. And it came out still slightly unfocused but Myungsoo loved it all the same. Taking photos for Myungsoo wasn’t about the quality of his shots but the subject, and when his subject was Sungjong, everything else ceased to matter entirely. And it was cruel, Myungsoo thought, cruel that he could never fully capture Sungjong in all his beauty for people to see, because a camera could only show so much, and though a picture spoke a thousand words, Myungsoo thought that a thousand word illustration of Sungjong was a joke, for there were so many things to say and describe and mull over about the boy, Not that Myungsoo could say anything, because once he had tried to put everything he thought and felt into words and it had barely scraped a thousand characters let alone full words and that’s when Myungsoo knew that he could only take photos.

He’d never done anything lecherous with them. Myungsoo didn’t need photos to get off, nor did he need to get off in general, not when his mind was so focussed on something that involved sex but wasn’t all about it. He was at no shortage of hormones, no, not at all, but Myungsoo was set on one thing and though he found himself transfixed often by the beautiful movements of Sungjong’s body, he was saving that sort of satisfaction for another day. Another day, another day, and soon it all became a blur and Myungsoo was able to somehow put his earthly urges in the backseat. The fact that he was so exhausted helped, but the fact that he saw Sungjong so much didn’t.

(Of course, sometimes Myungsoo gave in. He’d be lying to say he never touched himself like that, but he always felt so dirty because Sungjong was everything but, and Myungsoo felt ashamed.)

Despite the “experiences” he might’ve had, Myungsoo was not very romantic. Every man could be romantic if a dozen red roses and a candle-lit dinner were all that was needed to be so, but Myungsoo didn’t want to be so typical. Yet his mind would offer no ideas as to what he could do in lieu of that, and one day Myungsoo even found himself lingering at a florist’s, wondering what Sungjong would think if he presented him with flowers just out of the blue. “Just get it,” Sungyeol had said, because he had been there with Myungsoo (his usually dominating presence obviously having shrivelled in Myungsoo’s endless flurry of thoughts), but in the end Myungsoo hadn’t because it didn’t seem appropriate. What would Sungjong have done with the flowers anyway? And did he even like flowers?

…

To Myungsoo, Sungjong was very much an enigma. As close as they were and as accustomed as they were to each other’s tendencies, likes and dislikes, Myungsoo knew that no matter how much he knew he would never know Sungjong inside out and back to front. Sungjong never spoke much of his troubles, even when he was asked about it, something about sole reliance on oneself.  Like a chest. Storing so much but never giving anything away, really. A crappy analogy, but Myungsoo didn’t exactly possess the natural ability to be profound. And as much as Myungsoo wanted to discover more about the person Sungjong was, he didn’t want to uncover every little detail about him. He didn’t want to know Sungjong in his entirety when he already loved him to such an extent: no, the way Sungjong was so mystifying was part of the attraction.

(Not that Myungsoo would tire of him, however, if he did one day know know Sungjong.)

In any case, Sungjong was a bottomless wonder, an endless wonder, the second great marvel of Myungsoo’s life. The first of course being the substance of Myungsoo’s affections. It exhausted and invigorated him, made him feel small and insignificant yet delighted at the mere thought of Sungjong thinking of him. It kept him on his feet running even when he felt like he could not take another step, even when it made him feel like he was chasing someone who didn’t wish to be caught in his embrace. And though the prospect of Sungjong not wanting him in return at all was painful indeed, it didn’t make Myungsoo think of desisting. The idea that maybe one day his feelings would wane enough for him to cease his (kind of pathetic) love-struck behaviour was laughable, a possibility Myungsoo’s heart could not fathom, an idea his mind could not get its grasp around. Not that Myungsoo was unrealistic or naïve to the way things worked in the “real world”, but until he was faced with blunt rejection that made it absolutely clear Sungjong was not to be his, Myungsoo could not will himself to move on or to behave otherwise.

Love was a strange feeling.

It didn’t always make you happy, but it kept you going. People who had yet to experience it, Myungsoo found, were under constant misconceptions that love meant you were content every day of your life, but that utopian theory, though accurate in some ways, was far from being appropriate in describing what love was. Love was something that would never be defined objectively to the satisfaction of all who lived in the world, because people looked for and needed different things while they were in love or finding it.

For Myungsoo, it was a motivator, a cushion, a shield, a reassurance, a goal. Love was not, he thought, endless gifts and surprises. Love was not something shown under obligation or guilt or for the sake of it or because of some pressure. That much was obvious, Myungsoo knew, but he was getting somewhere.

“He would never get her flowers anymore. He would never get her chocolates or the same kind of surprise diamond ring her best friend had received from her man a few weeks before. He would rarely kiss her in front of their children, or show anything beyond a smile and a few words about how they needed to clean out the gutters soon, because the recent thunderstorms had done them in with dried leaves clogging them up.

However.

(Because there was always a however.)

When the son had swimming practice which required a 5 am start in the morning, he got up because he knew she was tired. He was tired too because he had worked till 9 the day before, but when she stirred and mumbled a reassurance that she’ll “drive him today”, he refused to let her get up. “Get some more sleep” he said. “I’ll do it today” and though she murmured then that he had done it the week before and that it was her turn, he only smiled and got out of bed. He didn’t need the mirror to tell him that he had bags under his eyes, nor the creak in his knees when he squatted to tell him that his joints were aching and had been for a while now. His eyes were weary as they scanned the road – he knew he was sleep deprived – but something warm thrummed inside him as he drove, and with a single glance in the rear-view, the sight of his son brought with it the thought of his sleeping wife at home, and he knew that this was all worth it.”

And Myungsoo had that sort of love.

They had sex mostly because it was liberating.

But of course it would be, given the ends that sex achieved, but for them it was a way of escape. For those minutes they spent together naked and involved, they were as far from idols as they could possibly get in one of the most basic human acts. They had their phases where they stopped to question whether it was unwise but the truth was, neither of them could stay apart from each other. Sex was sex, and they weren't dating, but Myungsoo couldn't let himself go to other people so long as he had Woohyun, and Woohyun couldn't think of holding any other person the way he did Myungsoo. They were used to each other's bodies. Knew all the spots to touch while they were kissing to make that kiss harder, when to stop teasing and finally get to it. It was a big collection of small details which made them perfect for one another, something neither of them could quite get whenever they ventured into the dating side of things. Woohyun had had a few flings - he didn't have all those contacts in his phone for nothing - but they were as stale as they had been exhilarating, shiny and new for a very short time until Woohyun realized they weren't "the one". He wasn't looking for his future spouse in every person he had sex with, but with his lifestyle it would have been perfect to have somebody regular and somebody understanding enough, somebody who was ready to reciprocate certain things and hold back on others. Somebody who knew him. The search had ultimately proven too difficult, which meant in the end Woohyun looked to the members of his group. And why not? It should have been the first place: they lived together, worked together. It would be easy squeezing in a quickie between schedules should either of them need it, and the fact that they were all already so accustomed to seeing each other shirtless and further beyond was an enormous bonus. Woohyun was all for the excitement of touching somebody new, but there was a part of him that always wanted to skip past the dumbfounded, shy stage to the one where they stripped bare, had sex, and that was it. He just hadn't expected that person to be Myungsoo. Myungsoo was quiet. He kept to himself most of the time and even when the members convened in the middle of the dance room for post-practice yammering and other typical going-ons of a group of guys their age, he would choose to lay across the over-used couch at the back and catch a few precious minutes of sleep before they were called to do something else. It usually meant he was behind on the gossip, but Woohyun liked that he didn't seem to care anyway, even if it meant he was left out of future conversations on those topics. He wasn't at all pretentious or arrogant, and the fact that he didn't flaunt his body the way the rest of them were beginning to do (even Sunggyu had cranked up the amount of dropped armholes / low necklines in his shirts) told Woohyun he wasn't a particularly sexual person. Of course, the assumption that a person's willingness to go into sex would be reflected in how they dressed was one of the most horrendous ones Woohyun could have made, but at the time it seemed obvious that somebody like Howon or Dongwoo would have been a successful and satisfying on first try. He hadn't been entirely wrong, but both of them had implied, given the hypothetical, that they would become either much too attached or much too unwilling after the first time, citing a few personal flaws ("I'm the type to want the cuddling" Howon had confessed. "I don't want to just walk away. I think I'd even want breakfast after", "Yeah, then marriage maybe?" Dongwoo had teased), which meant Woohyun hadn't even been able to get them to loosen the drawstrings of their sweats before he'd mentally marked them off the list. Sungyeol was, as Sunggyu once accurately put it, he thought, motherfucking bat-shit crazy,and Woohyun wouldn't have minded connecting all those moles he had scattered near his collarbones with his tongue, but the second he thought about asking, Sungyeol was hollering about catnip, kitty litter and other sensational boner-killing topics. So that was a no. Moving past Sunggyu took some time. Woohyun and Sunggyu were close, there was little doubt about that. Their friendship involved a lot of joking around and touching, and although they almost kissed once, Woohyun had a feeling Sunggyu would be too afraid, too rigid to want to step into something like a friends with benefits relationship. He was the leader, and as much as they told him he could drop the title whenever they were behind closed doors and they weren't working, it had become totally ingrained in him. It meant he was always talking about responsibility this, responsibility that, making Woohyun too uneasy to proposition him properly, and even the desperate thrum of his haughty, dissatisfied sex drive couldn't throw him high enough to get over the Sunggyu picket fence. The difficult part took place in the fact that Sunggyu was a slob, and in that Woohyun found himself fantasizing about the times he could have Sunggyu up against a wall, both of them sweaty, frustrated, Sunggyu in his too-loose dropped crotch jeans whose zip hadn't worked since Sungjong's "lemon candy!" days and Woohyun could jack him off and leave him stained in his own cum. He looked like the type to swallow, he looked like the type to let Woohyun try all kinds of things, like fucking him over the washing machine after they'd put a load in, but after a particularly gruelling performance that left Sunggyu's spirits so low he refused to speak to anybody, Woohyun recalled that this was a one in five occurrence. Woohyun needed good spirits all the time. Angry sex was great, but what was bad was a rejection, especially after the expectation of angry sex, and he could see himself expecting a rejection too many times to like his odds. That left the two youngest: Myungsoo and Sungjong. Given the attention that had long since pursued Sungjong since his debut, it wasn't hard at all for Woohyun to think about the advantages of having Sungjong as his fuck buddy. Sungjong was unashamed of it, his S-line, his prized waist, his hips and his ass, which meant Woohyun was unashamed in thinking about it too. He thought about how nice Sungjong had looked lately with all the hair colour changes, how seductive his eyes had been made up to look, and how he could very much see himself teasing the maknae endlessly, working his fingers into him until he came just from that. Sungjong was light, a delicate little package, and the subject of, Woohyun could very well assume, a lot of people's sicker fantasies, that which included his own now. So it should have been easy given the hype that Woohyun had worked himself into, but Sungjong was notably absent lately at night, the time when Woohyun needed what he needed most, and so it was a failure. Sungjong had the social life all of them often speculated over with the constant text messages and sneaking out (none of their friends were ever so spontaneous), and Woohyun had long suspected he was seeing someone. Myungsoo was always in his room. Sunggyu would be slouching so far it was like he was becoming one with the couch as he watched bad sitcom after average-rating sitcom, Dongwoo and Howon would be in the kitchen talking about some movie they wanted to see and Sungyeol would be out trying to walk his cat or something equally mundane, but Myungsoo would never join in on anything. It was always about his photos, his cameras and his fans, which was endearing and sweet, but it also made Woohyun think he would never be able to be pried away for something soapy and nice in the shower stall. Together. When Woohyun had entered the room, Myungsoo had barely glanced up to say "hyung" before he was back to fiddling with his new camera lens, sorting out the boxes he had filled with prints. Woohyun had sat by him  for a few minutes, distracting himself with looking through a few of the albums Myungsoo had managed to put together but he became so bored he would have switched bodies with Jureumie if he could have, if it meant somebody would pay attention to him. "Myungsoo," he'd said, and when Myungsoo looked up that was all Woohyun needed to kiss him. To Woohyun's utter surprise, he was more than happy to oblige. Since then, they had had sex on both of their birthdays, Christmas, New Year's Eve and on the dawn of the New Year. It was too convenient, Myungsoo being so available, and Woohyun milked as much as he could out of every opportunity that reared its head. By now it had been a good handful of months, enough for both of them to realize that as dismissive and unattached as their relationship seemed on the outside, they couldn't handle not having each other. They were perfect together, libidos in sync, knowing exactly what the other wanted at any given time. Myungsoo could tell when Woohyun just wanted a blow job and Woohyun knew when to be more loving when he was handling Myungsoo, and when to bruise him and fuck him fully dressed while Myungsoo was stark naked. There had been more times than Woohyun could count of fisting his hands in Myungsoo's hair as the younger of the two completely disregarded the knees of his pants soaking through with something disgusting off the toilet floor as he worked his mouth over Woohyun's erection, sometimes sloppy, sometimes more tactful, but at all times entirely satisfying both in sight and in how it drew Woohyun's orgasm on fast. He wouldn't trade Myungsoo for anything.

- -

Which, or so he concluded from how damn slow his associate was moving, would be a while.

Or maybe not, since there was that pinprick of pleasure he was feeling right at that moment as Hoya slid himself deeper in, the uncomfortable stretch accompanied by something that shot straight up Woohyun’s spine and manifested itself in an unintelligible string of something that came from his mouth. While they were both a stickler for details, both of them would’ve agreed that there was nothing more to what those “words” were than an expression of carnal satisfaction.

The lighting was lower, dimmer than Woohyun would’ve preferred but generally nothing about first times were ideal, most of them having occurred on impulse, on some innate spur of the individual’s bodies. And this was exactly how he found himself sprawled on the bed, surrounded by his rattiest set of pajamas, bottle of lube by his head, involving himself with – well, Hoya.

The fact that Hoya was attractive was not the cause of this, but, obviously, it was an enormous factor, for working with highly attractive people in small spaces while cohabiting with them made abstinence a near impossible task. It was further helpful to note that Woohyun had a weakness and unfortunate, long-running tendency to sleep with whoever he partnered with. But Hoya was an anomaly in his sea of past sex partners who happened to be his partners in work as well. The inconsistency lay in the burn Woohyun now felt against his walls, the almost unbearable sensation enough to drive his body to lift off the bed, another incomprehensible noise escaping his parted lips.

He was new to this. To say he was a virgin to intercourse would be technically incorrect. Anyone who knew him would be able to scoff at such a statement within a heartbeat: no, he was not a virgin to coitus, but with a man? No, Woohyun had never experienced anything close to what he was feeling and coping with now, which made him a virgin in the sense that he had been hitherto untouched by another man.

In this way, at least. One was unfortunately prone to the literal rubbing of shoulders with other human beings when taking the subway and the like.

“Almost,” Hoya’s voice was just a hair above a whisper: low, husky, both enough to drive Woohyun crazy on its own. “You’re doing just…,” – a grunt, another sucking of the lower lip into his own mouth, and Hoya’s body gave a jolt as he was in to his base – “…fine. Fuck. Woohyun—,”

The human body had five senses. Hoya’s breath was against Woohyun’s neck, a sound, and even touch. There was that strum of Hoya’s heart against Woohyun’s chest, and the words Hoya were beginning to speak in some attempt to soothe Woohyun but all he was really aware to was the heat in his crotch skyrocketing, his mind totally overcome. He met Hoya’s lips in a messy excuse for a kiss and there was the taste, the tang and slight smokiness Woohyun had only known of from last week when they’d first kissed, and it took his mind off everything but what’s going on now: the thoughts in his mind ceased to flow in their copious amounts, he lost interest in the fact that the frame on the opposite wall is not straight and the fact that he’s got an appointment with the coroner in an hour.

The all too fluid movement of Hoya’s hips was similarly all too familiar (he was a dancer, natch), but the hesitation that wracked his body suggested he had never done this before either. Not that Woohyun had anyone to compare him to, but even if he had, Woohyun thought to a large degree of certainty that nobody could possibly even come close to being on par. Hoya supported himself on his elbows, the mattress disastrously springy and soft (omitted word: broken) beyond measure, but somehow he managed, even with Woohyun’s wrists in both grips. Really. Tight. Grips.

Hoya pulled back to his tip, his concentration obvious as his thumbs dug into Woohyun’s hands, the lube making his thrust all that much easier now that he’d let Woohyun adjust to the girth of his cock. Woohyun’s back arched, his head thrown back with a groan, wrists still twisting of their own accord to be free of Hoya’s hold around them. It was pure torture to lie there deprived of the ability to reach out and run his hands over the musculature of Hoya’s body, which was the point, but hell it was his first time and he wanted to give as much as he was being given. He gave a whimper, the previous ache ebbing away with each roll forward of Hoya’s hips as the man found himself a steady, gratifying pace, each move punctuated with laboured grunts Woohyun could only describe as utterly sinful in its lewdness. Woohyun was growing needier himself with each passing moment, his legs having found their way to wrap around Hoya’s waist, the product of his pleasure – the sounds he made embarrassing a little, but not enough to make him swallow them back.

At first, the words were difficult to form: Woohyun could only try and catch the dark murk of Hoya’s eyes and tense against Hoya’s fingers, actions to which Hoya dismissed quite readily, scoffing at the idea openly as he smirked and drew Woohyun into another heated kiss. It was distracting, the way Hoya’s tongue made its way down Woohyun’s neck, pebbling the otherwise blemish-free area with faint bruises, enough almost to put Woohyun off the idea that had formed in his head. He tried to move again (Hoya was ready), and as a reward for his failure, Hoya stilled his thrusts to nothing, cock only half-sheathed, tanned skin damp with perspiration. The partial emptiness caused Woohyun to moan at the loss, scooting down onto Hoya’s throbbing member, the action weakening Hoya for a second, though not enough for Woohyun to break free.

“Stop it,” Hoya all but panted, eyebrows creased as his hips are forced down against Woohyun, burying the entire length of his cock inside Woohyun once more. “I’m trying to pleasure you,”

“I can’t have you doing that,” somewhere in the quiet depths of their apartment, their microwave oven beeped, signifying the arrival of a new hour. “You can’t be so selfish— shit,”

The expletive shot twice from Woohyun’s mouth as Hoya withdrew completely and rammed back in. Also twice.

“Shit, Jesus, just let me go,” to Woohyun, his voice was hideous when it was pleading, but since pleading was something Woohyun didn’t do often, it sounded that much more erotic to Hoya’s ears. “Let me go, Hoya,”

“Never,” Hoya reassured Woohyun of his position with another squeeze of his own hands clamped around the older’s wrists. “I-I like seeing you like this,”

His words spurred Woohyun into a bit of a frenzy. The thought of being dominated was an excitement Woohyun had never known, but the way Hoya’s lips wrapped around one of his nipples as he resumed the perfect rhythm he’d been working at before was all too frustrating in the way that Woohyun could meanwhile do nothing as Hoya focused on setting off every sensitive spot on Woohyun’s body. The pressure in his groin was creeping closer and closer to being unbearable, the cusp of his orgasm only moments away, but Woohyun still wanted to do something. The irregularity of Hoya’s breathing only told him that the other man was near too – Woohyun wanted to be the one to push him over.

Gathering the beads of strength still remaining in him, Woohyun pried his wrists free during the precious second he knew Hoya was at his slackest (the tightness of his grips fluctuated with how far he was inside Woohyun) and in a bit of a rough exchange he finally found himself straddling Hoya, reciprocating the same, vice hold on Hoya’s own wrists. Hoya’s mouth was already agape, surprised, gasping, and he was robbed of his breath entirely when Woohyun sank onto his erection. The pain was still difficult to bear but the yield was far over worth it, worth it tenfold, Hoya’s head half hanging off the edge of the bed as he lifted his hips to meet each time Woohyun would seat himself completely onto his dick. It didn’t take long after that, but Woohyun milked the opportunity as much as he could, drawing out his actions to watch Hoya squirm, watch him choke out. He grinned almost wickedly at the way Hoya snapped at him, cutting his words off with a simple grind of his ass against Hoya’s crotch. The curses fell to silence of course when Hoya realized it got him nowhere closer to letting him fill Woohyun from the inside, and soon he was the one begging a little, desperation creeping into his voice. Hoya was the only thing Woohyun heard when he worked himself at a feverish pace onto the younger man’s member until he came hard and uncontrolled against the grooves of Hoya’s torso and his own, having fallen to Hoya’s chest in a moaning heap as soon as he’d realized he was all too close, his frame shuddering with euphoria. Hoya had come mere milliseconds before, still thrusting up through it even when Woohyun had become limp, stilling himself only when he was drained.

“Damn…,” was Hoya’s input as his cock slipped from inside Woohyun, a familiar headiness in the air as they both settled back, Woohyun feeling the raw ache now that his body was left to lapse back into normality – that was, when he didn’t have another man inside him.

Ah.

“You held yourself better than I thought,”

Woohyun snapped out of his trance, his concentration returning to the now rather than being pinpointed on wait what just happened? Hoya was just lying there, all spread out beneath Woohyun, clearly basking in the afterglow. It was a little maddening to see him look so roguish, especially since that was more Woohyun’s thing than Hoya’s, yet at the same time Woohyun couldn’t get enough of it.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, fully aware that Hoya was now taking his time in checking Woohyun out in the nude now that he wasn’t caught up in the flurry of sexual stress and strain that had gotten them here. “Nobody asked you to talk yet,”

“This bed is… you sleep on this?” Hoya propped himself up again on his elbows, unworried about the whitish display of Woohyun’s cum on his abdomen. “It’s rubbish. It looked worse enough to the eye, and now—,”