"I'm not staring. I'm observing." Kihyun took another sip, feeling the alcohol loosen something in his chest that had been wound tight all day. All week. All month, if he was being honest. "There's a difference."

Wonho laughed, the sound low and warm in the private space of his home. He'd kicked off his shoes hours ago, his button-down shirt hanging open to reveal the sculpted chest underneath. Kihyun had noticed. Of course he'd noticed. He'd been noticing for years.

"Observe away, then." Wonho gestured around the penthouse with his glass. "Better than that dungeon we were trapped in, right?"

"Anything is better than that dungeon." Kihyun pulled his knees up onto the couch, letting his own oversized hoodie bunch around his waist. The fabric was soft, comforting. Armor he could finally shed. "We got nothing. Absolutely nothing. Eight hours and I sound like a robot reading lyrics."

"You don't sound like a robot."

"I sound like I'm reading a manual on how to sing. Technically correct, emotionally vacant." Kihyun hated how his voice cracked on the last word. The perfectionist in him screamed that this was weakness, that he should swallow it down and perform. But the whiskey made him bold. Tired. Honest. "I don't know if I can do this solo thing, Hoseok hyung. The stage feels… different when there's no one beside me."

Wonho set his glass down. Turned to face him fully. His dark eyes were serious now, that gentle intensity that made people underestimate him until they saw the power underneath.

"You're not alone."

"I feel alone."

"That's different." Wonho's hand found his knee, warm through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. A grounding weight. "The track needs your emotion, Kihyunnie. Not your perfection. I've been trying to pull that out of you all day, but you keep retreating behind this wall of 'correct.'"

"Because correct is safe!"

"And safe is boring." Wonho's thumb traced a small circle on his knee. "I've seen you perform. I've seen you let go. You have fire in you that you barely let yourself acknowledge."

Kihyun's heart hammered against his ribs. The air between them had shifted, charged with something that had been building for hours. Days. Maybe longer.

"You miss this," Kihyun said suddenly, the realization clicking into place. "Creating together. Fighting together."

Wonho's jaw tightened. "Every day."

"The friction."

"The challenge." Wonho's voice dropped lower. "Someone who doesn't let me get away with half-measures."

Their eyes locked. Kihyun felt something snap inside him, a thread of control he'd been maintaining all day—maybe for years—fraying and breaking. He'd spent eight hours feeling helpless, frustrated, at the mercy of his own anxiety. And Wonho kept looking at him with those soft, gentle eyes that made him want to either scream or be devoured.

So he chose devoured.

Kihyun moved before the thought fully formed. His glass hit the side table with a clatter as he surged forward, pinning Wonho against the couch cushions with his entire weight. His hands found Wonho's shoulders, feeling the dense muscle flex beneath his palms.

"You want my emotion?" Kihyun's voice came out sharp, commanding. Unrecognizable. "You want to see what's underneath the perfection? Then pay attention."

Wonho's eyes went wide, but he didn't fight back. His hands came up slowly, settling on Kihyun's hips. Holding. Yielding.

"Show me."

The permission unlocked something feral in Kihyun. He crashed their mouths together, all teeth and desperation, tasting whiskey and want. Wonho kissed back with matching intensity, but he let Kihyun lead. Let him set the pace. Let him take.

"Every time you told me to feel more today…" Kihyun bit down on Wonho's lower lip, drawing a groan from deep in the other man's throat. "I wanted to show you exactly what that looked like."

"Show me now."

Kihyun's hands yanked Wonho's shirt open wider, palms sliding across the broad expanse of his chest. The muscles jumped under his touch. Wonho's body was a masterpiece, thick and powerful in ways that Kihyun's slender frame could never achieve. But right now, that body was his to explore. His to use.

"I've watched you in that studio all day," Kihyun growled against Wonho's jaw, teeth scraping down to his neck. "Flexing every time you adjusted the equipment. Bending over the soundboard. Do you know what that does to me?"

"Tell me."

"Makes me want to ruin you." Kihyun's hand found Wonho's nipple, fingers pinching hard. Wonho arched off the couch with a strangled sound, and Kihyun felt heat flood straight to his groin. "Makes me want to take you apart piece by piece until you can't think about anything but me."

Wonho's breathing had gone ragged. His cock was a thick line straining against his pants, and Kihyun palmed him roughly through the fabric.

"Kihyun—"

"No." Kihyun's sharp eyes locked onto Wonho's face, demanding. "You don't get to speak. You get to feel. That's what you wanted, right? That's what you asked for?"

Wonho's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He nodded.

"Good." Kihyun released Wonho's cock only to yank at his waistband, pulling his pants down just enough to free him. The sight made his mouth water—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. But that wasn't what he wanted tonight.

"Off. All of it." Kihyun moved back just enough to let Wonho strip completely, watching every inch of revealed skin with hungry appreciation. Wonho was gorgeous, all heavy muscle and soft skin, tattoos scattered across his arms like art. "Now help me with mine."

Wonho's hands found the hem of Kihyun's hoodie, pulling it over his head with careful efficiency. His sweatpants followed, leaving them both bare in the warm glow of the penthouse lights. Kihyun could feel Wonho's gaze drinking him in—the toned lines of his stomach, the smooth planes of his chest, the hard length of his own cock jutting forward.

"Lube?"

Wonho reached beneath the couch cushion and produced a bottle. Of course he kept it there. Kihyun grabbed it, pouring a generous amount over his fingers.

"Spread your legs."

Wonho obeyed, settling back against the cushions with his powerful thighs falling open. The sight made something possessive curl in Kihyun's chest. This strong, commanding man, reduced to following orders. Waiting for whatever Kihyun decided to give him.

Kihyun settled between those spread thighs, one slick finger pressing against Wonho's entrance. He watched Wonho's face carefully as he pushed inside—the flutter of his lashes, the part of his lips.

"More."

"I decide when it's more." But Kihyun added a second finger anyway, stretching and scissoring with deliberate slowness. He wanted Wonho desperate. Wanted him shaking. "You've been teasing me all day with this body. Every time you reached across the soundboard, your shirt pulled tight across your chest. I couldn't stop staring at your tits."

Wonho made a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan. "My tits?"

"Your perfect, thick, suckable tits." Kihyun leaned down, tongue tracing a line down Wonho's sternum until he found what he was looking for. Wonho's nipples were already pebbled, and Kihyun sealed his lips around one, sucking hard as his fingers curled inside.

"Fuck—Kihyun—"

The dual sensation made Wonho's whole body jerk. Kihyun didn't stop. He worked Wonho open with patient, ruthless fingers while his mouth worshipped that sculpted chest. He bit down on one nipple while his thumb rubbed the other, alternating until Wonho was trembling beneath him.

"Please."

"Please what?" Kihyun pulled off with an obscene pop, looking up the length of Wonho's body with sharp, challenging eyes. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"Inside. I need you inside."

Kihyun's cock throbbed at the desperate confession. He withdrew his fingers, adding more lube to his own length. Positioning himself at Wonho's entrance, he paused.

"Look at me."

Wonho's heavy-lidded gaze met his.

"This is what it feels like," Kihyun said, and pushed inside.

The tight heat swallowed him inch by inch, and they both groaned into the quiet room. Kihyun had to pause, fighting for control. Wonho felt incredible—hot and tight and perfect around him. But this wasn't just about pleasure. This was about unleashing everything he'd been holding back.

Kihyun started to move. Hard. Fast. Each thrust drove deeper than the last, and he watched Wonho's face contort with pleasure. His hands found Wonho's chest again, squeezing those thick pecs as his hips pistoned forward.

"This is what you wanted." Kihyun's voice came out ragged. "My emotion. My fire. Take it."

Wonho's hands gripped the couch cushions, knuckles white. His head fell back, exposing the column of his throat. Kihyun leaned down to bite at it, marking, claiming, owning.

"I've thought about this—" Thrust. "—every time you corrected my vocals—" Thrust. "—every time you told me to let go—"

Kihyun's rhythm stuttered as the pressure built. Wonho was everything he'd imagined—responsive, hungry, beautiful. He could feel his orgasm coiling at the base of his spine, demanding release.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, and Wonho's hand flew to his own cock, stroking in time with Kihyun's thrusts. The added visual pushed Kihyun over the edge. He slammed in one final time, spilling deep inside with a broken moan that echoed through the penthouse.

They stayed frozen like that for long moments, breathing hard. The frantic energy slowly ebbed, replaced by something heavier. Warmer.

Then Wonho moved.

Before Kihyun could process what was happening, he found himself flipped onto his back. Wonho loomed over him, that gentle expression replaced by something darker. Hungrier.

"My turn."

Kihyun's breath caught. He could feel himself already getting hard again at the sheer dominance radiating off the man above him.

"You think you're the only one who's been watching?" Wonho's voice had dropped an octave, low and commanding in a completely different way than Kihyun's. While Kihyun's dominance was sharp and demanding, Wonho's was inevitable. Like gravity. "Every time you threw one of your sassy comments. Every time you rolled those pretty eyes. I wanted to swallow that attitude whole."

Wonho's hands found Kihyun's thighs, pushing them up and apart. The position left him completely exposed, vulnerable in a way that made heat pool in his belly.

"Hoseokie hyung—"

"Shh." Wonho's thumb traced around Kihyun's entrance, feather-light. "I've got you now."

Without warning, Wonho leaned down and dragged his tongue across Kihyun's hole.

Electricity shot up Kihyun's spine. His hands flew to Wonho's hair, gripping hard. "What—ah—"

Wonho didn't stop. His tongue worked in tight circles, probing and tasting, opening Kihyun up with slow, deliberate devotion. The scratch of Wonho's slight stubble against sensitive skin added another dimension to the sensation.

"You taste like whiskey and sin," Wonho murmured against his skin before diving back in.

Kihyun couldn't form words. Couldn't think. Wonho's mouth was doing things that should be illegal, reducing him to nothing but nerve endings and desperate sounds. His own cock stood flushed and leaking against his stomach, ignored and aching.

"Please, please, please—" The word fell from his lips like a prayer, but he didn't even know what he was asking for. More. Everything.

Wonho pulled back just long enough to grab the lube. His fingers joined his tongue, stretching Kihyun with patient thoroughness that bordered on torture.

"I've imagined this pretty pink hole wrapped around me," Wonho said, voice thick. "Every time you wore those tight pants in rehearsal. Every time you bent over to pick up a mic."

"Stop talking and fuck me."

Wonho's laugh vibrated through his fingers still buried inside. "Still giving orders? That's cute." But he withdrew his fingers, positioning himself where Kihyun needed him most.

The first push stole Kihyun's breath. Wonho was thick—thicker than his fingers—and the stretch bordered on too much before melting into perfect fullness.

"That's it." Wonho's hands found Kihyun's hips, holding him in place as he sank deeper. "Take all of me. Every inch."

When Wonho was fully seated, he paused. His dark eyes found Kihyun's, and something passed between them—an understanding that transcended words. The shift in power was complete, natural, right.

Then Wonho started to move.

Unlike Kihyun's frantic pace, Wonho's thrusts were slow. Deliberate. Each one pressed against that spot inside that made Kihyun see stars. The room filled with the sounds of their bodies meeting, of Kihyun's helpless moans, of Wonho's low grunts of effort.

"You feel perfect." Wonho leaned down to mouth at Kihyun's neck, teeth scraping over his pulse point. "Tight and hot and mine."

Kihyun's legs wrapped around Wonho's waist, pulling him deeper. He couldn't control the sounds escaping his throat—broken whimpers and desperate pleas that he'd be embarrassed about later.

"Faster—please—"

"Wonho's pace increased, but only slightly. He maintained that grinding depth, making Kihyun feel every inch with every stroke. His hand found Kihyun's cock, stroking in counterpoint to his thrusts."

"Come for me. Show me that emotion you've been hiding."

The dual stimulation pushed Kihyun over. His second orgasm crashed through him, painting both their stomachs as his body clenched around Wonho.

Wonho followed with a final, deep thrust, spilling inside with a groan that Kihyun felt reverberate through his whole body.

They collapsed together onto the couch, a tangle of sweaty limbs and ragged breathing. The warm lighting of the penthouse felt softer now, the alcohol and the sex creating a pleasant haze.

Wonho pressed a lazy kiss to Kihyun's shoulder. Then another to his jaw. Finally, their lips met in something slower, gentler—tender in a way that made Kihyun's chest ache.

They moved to the bedroom eventually, limbs heavy and sated. Lying side by side on Wonho's bed, the moonlight filtering through the windows, Kihyun felt something settle in his bones. The anxiety that had plagued him for weeks was quiet now, replaced by a warm satiation.

Wonho turned his head on the pillow, that boyish smile softening his features. "The song."

"What about it?"

"I know what to call it. Switch."

Kihyun blinked. Then laughed—a genuine, bright sound that surprised them both. "Switch."

"It's perfect. The power shift. The back and forth. The way we—" Wonho's hand found his under the sheets, fingers intertwining. "The way we needed both sides to make it work."

Kihyun squeezed his hand. The perfectionist in him wanted to critique the name, find something more poetic. But the exhausted, satisfied part of him—the part that had finally let go—knew Wonho was right.

"Switch," he repeated. "I can work with that."