Work Text:
Hongjoong’s first clue that something was wrong came as a call from Wooyoung.
For the most part, the members avoided calling Hongjoong when they knew he was in the studio, instead keeping any messages to texts. It wasn’t an official rule, per se, but at some point they’d all come to a silent, mutual understanding that actual calls were to be used only for urgent matters. Of course, his members being who they were, the things they considered “urgent” varied wildly.
Hongjoong ignored Wooyoung’s first call, figuring he’d leave a message, but his second call started almost as soon as the first one stopped ringing. The little shit would probably just keep hitting speed dial until Hongjoong picked up.
“What?” Hongjoong barked into the phone.
“Oh, good, hyung—you haven’t heard from Seonghwa yet today, have you?” Wooyoung’s voice was uncharacteristically wobbly, enough actual worry coming through to make Hongjoong pause in the middle of the beat he was editing.
“Seonghwa? No, why? Isn’t he at the dorm?”
“Oh, he’s at the dorm,” Wooyoung said. “Just—maybe you shouldn’t be for a while.”
“If something’s wrong with Seonghwa,” Hongjoong started, but Wooyoung interrupted him before he had a chance to finish.
“No, no, everything’s fine! Stay at the studio, okay? Just stay.” There was a commotion in the background. “Ah—okay, make good music, I love you, bye!”
Frowning, Hongjoong set the phone down and stared at it. Honestly, it wasn’t the weirdest phone call he’d ever had with Wooyoung—but it was the first time he’d felt like there might be something actually wrong.
He checked the time. Yeosang and Jongho would still be out at the gym and vocal training, respectively, but the rest of the group should be home, and if nothing else, two of their managers lived in the same building. If there was something going on with Seonghwa, there would be people around to help.
Hongjoong put his headphones back on, but found his thoughts drifting away from his work. What could possibly be happening? Why did Wooyoung tell him to stay away?
Whatever. He’d take the excuse to work late, and if Seonghwa nagged him about it later, Hongjoong could shove the blame onto Wooyoung.
A little while later, his phone buzzed again, this time with a KaTalk from San. Hyung are you feeling okay?
Hongjoong stared at the message, unease starting to gnaw at him. Was Seonghwa sick? Maybe he had COVID symptoms and they were waiting on test results—that would make sense for why Wooyoung had told him not to come home. Except why wouldn’t Wooyoung just say that?
I’m fine, he sent back. Is everything okay?
I’ll let you know, was San’s decidedly unreassuring response.
Actually a little worried now, Hongjoong messaged their dorm manager with a vaguely worded question about the next time they were getting groceries delivered. The response was quick and matter-of-fact with no follow-up. So whatever was going on, the managers didn’t know.
He was about to call Wooyoung back and force him to talk when his phone rang again.
This time, it was from Seonghwa.
Hongjoong usually made Seonghwa wait a few rings, but this time he hit accept right away and said, “What’s going on?”
Seonghwa didn’t speak at first. Hongjoong only knew he was there from the sound of his breathing. He sounded labored. Winded, like he’d been running. “Joong-ah,” he said finally, voice coming out low and rough. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the studio,” Hongjoong said slowly. “You’re at the dorm, right?”
“Yeah.” Seonghwa’s breath hitched. There was a sound in the background that Hongjoong couldn’t quite identify, almost like static. “I am.” Another pause. “Come home, Joong-ah.”
“I—Wooyoung said—I’m working, Hwa,” Hongjoong said. He ran his free hand over his knee, biting the inside of his lip. “Are you okay? You sound—weird.”
“I feel . . .” Seonghwa trailed off. “Ah—Joong-ah, please. Please.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Come home. I need you to come home.”
Hongjoong’s stomach leapt at the desperate edge to Seonghwa’s words. He wasn’t sure, didn’t know if he was imagining things—
“Ah,” Seonghwa breathed again, and then there was a soft, slick noise, and Hoongjoong knew he was right.
Seonghwa was touching himself.
Seonghwa was touching himself, maybe even—but why was he calling Hongjoong? Why did he sound so—
“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa said again. “I need you.”
Faintly, Wooyoung’s voice called, “Hyung, who are you talking to?” Then, “Are you—ugh, give me the phone, hyung, come on.” The clatter of the phone exchanging hands was followed by Wooyoung asking, “Is that you, Hongjoong-hyung?”
“What’s wrong with him?” Hongjoong demanded.
“I don’t know,” Wooyoung said. “He’s been acting strange for a few hours now—I mean, strange for Seonghwa-hyung, he’s already—”
“Youngie, the point,” Hongjoong said impatiently.
“—right.” Wooyoung let out a breath. “He’s, I don’t know, needy? I, I mean we, thought it would be better if you weren’t here, but now—he keeps asking for you.” A pleading edge now. “I can still call the manager, get a doctor—”
“No,” Hongjoong said. He was on his feet already, though he hadn’t consciously decided to go. “I’m coming. I’ll be right there.”
“Are you sure?” Wooyoung asked. “He’s, um, like—”
“I know what he’s um, like,” Hongjoong snapped. “I’m not stupid.”
“Okay, jeez, sorry for trying to make sure neither of you get hurt,” Wooyoung said. “I’ll call you a company car. Hurry.”
Hongjoong took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, practically flying down the steps. By the time he got in the car, he was jittering, palms sweating. He couldn’t get Seonghwa’s voice out of his head. The way he’d said I need you.
He should have stayed put in his studio, safely away, because he and Seonghwa had always kept a careful line between the two of them. Even if there were moments late at night when Seonghwa would sway in closer. Even if then Hongjoong would tilt his head back, just a little, and wait for one of them to blink.
But Seonghwa had begged him to come home. He’d said I need you and underneath that Hongjoong had heard the unspoken I want you.
Maybe a manager or a doctor would be the smarter call. But Hongjoong knew how embarrassed Seonghwa would be, and more than that, he wanted to be there first. If anyone was going to touch Seonghwa, it was going to be him.
Hongjoong punched the code to their dorm with a little more force than necessary and flung the door wide. Yunho was standing in the entryway wearing a backpack and a jean jacket while Mingi laced up a pair of sneakers.
“Oh—hyung,” Yunho said, looking up. “So, uh, Mingi and I are gonna go out to a PC café for the night. Don’t worry, we already told the manager, so we won’t get in trouble. Just, uh—”
“We didn’t want to hear whatever is about to happen here,” Mingi said.
“Yeah, that,” Yunho said.
“Is that Hongjoong-hyung?” yelled Wooyoung from deeper in the dorm. He emerged from the hall a moment later, looking intensely frazzled. “Oh, thank god. San and I are going to crash with Changbin, Yeosang and Jongho are spending the night with Jongho’s folks. Call me if—I don’t know. Just call me.”
Hongjoong flushed and said, “I don’t think you all need to leave.”
“You haven’t spent the last six hours with Seonghwa-hyung,” Wooyoung said darkly. “Now go, you idiot, you agreed to be here.”
“Do we know what happened?” Hongjoong asked, struggling out of his boots as Wooyoung tried to drag him further inside. “Is he, I don’t know, drugged?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know, hyung, maybe a witch cursed him!” Wooyoung grabbed Hongjoong’s jacket and started yanking it off him. “All I know is he calmed down when I told him you were on the way. Now for the love of god, please go fuck Seonghwa-hyung back to normal.”
“Youngie!” Mingi yelped, covering his ears. “Please, my virgin ears!”
“Nothing about you is a virgin, shut up,” Wooyoung hissed. “Yunho, stop laughing and get out of here already.”
Hongjoong, face now feeling like it was on fire, let himself be propelled toward the room he shared with Seonghwa. He had been trying very hard not to think specifically about what they would do once they were face-to-face; hearing Wooyoung say it so frankly had him stumbling, wondering if he’d made a huge mistake in coming.
“Hey, hyung.” Wooyoung caught Hongjoong’s hands in his. They were standing outside the bedroom now. Hongjoong could see the flicker of Seonghwa’s shadow moving beneath the door. “Are you sure about this?”
“Quit asking me that or I’m going to change my mind,” Hongjoong snapped. He yanked his hands from Wooyoung’s and turned to face the door. “Go, already.”
He waited until Wooyoung’s footsteps retreated, then slipped inside, locking the door behind him just in case.
The room was a mess. And not just Hongjoong’s side this time—Seonghwa’s clothes were everywhere, like he’d been trying things on and then thrown them aside. Two—no, three half-drunk water bottles were left on the desk, the floor, and the edge of the bed. A damp bath towel was draped haphazardly over the trash can.
Seonghwa looked just as much of a mess. His hair was mussed like he’d been running through his hands through it, and his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat. His cheeks were flushed, his gaze, when it landed on Hongjoong, wild and desperate. He was almost completely naked; the only thing he wore was a pair of briefs that left nothing to the imagination.
“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa said, breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are.”
He crossed the room in two wide strides, pinning Hongjoong against the door. He was radiating so much heat that Hongjoong immediately began to sweat, even though they weren’t touching yet. Hongjoong stared blindly at the wall over Seonghwa’s shoulder as Seonghwa dipped his head to the crook of Hongjoong’s neck and breathed in deeply.
“Hwa,” he said softly. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” He cautiously laid his hands on Seonghwa’s bare shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circles. “You’re freaking everyone out.”
“I know,” Seonghwa said into Hongjoong’s throat. He sounded a little more normal, as though just being near Hongjoong was helping him think. “I don’t know why, but I just—I need this. I need—” Seonghwa pulled away abruptly and grabbed Hongjoong by the chin, tilting his head back so that they were staring right at each other. “I just know that I need you.”
Seonghwa’s mouth descended upon his with enough force to rattle the door; Hongjoong sincerely hoped the rest of the members had left by now. Hongjoong instinctively brought his hands up to Seonghwa’s hips, nearly startling away when he met bare skin and the edge of Seonghwa’s waistband. Seonghwa moaned at the touch, pressing Hongjoong harder into the door as he slid his hand down Hongjoong’s jaw to his throat, thumb resting just over the pulse.
Hongjoong knew Seonghwa was hard already—it was pretty difficult not to notice—but it was still shocking to feel Seonghwa’s cock against his thigh. Seonghwa’s hips rolled against his, insistent. Hongjoong gave up trying to hold back and shoved his hand down the front of Seonghwa’s briefs to take hold of his cock.
Seonghwa bit his lip, hard, then jerked back and said, “Sorry—sorry, Joong-ah, it’s just—” He couldn’t seem to find the words, but he didn’t need to; Hongjoong could feel just how much it was affecting Seonghwa in the way his hips canted forward, desperate for any kind of sensation.
“I’ve got you,” Hongjoong said, then felt mortified at how cringey that sounded. He nipped at Seonghwa’s jaw, dropped his head to mouth at his Adam’s apple, and said, “Let me.”
Seonghwa’s cock was hot in his hand and leaking already; Hongjoong wished he could see, but Seonghwa didn’t seem like he wanted to move. His head fell back as Hongjoon kissed the hollow of his throat, and when Hongjoong began to jerk him off, rough and fast, Hongjoong felt more than heard Seonghwa’s answering moan.
“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa breathed out, voice cracking, “I’m not gonna—it isn’t—”
Hongjoong shushed him and marveled when Seonghwa obeyed. He lifted his head so he could watch Seonghwa’s face as he fell apart, the way his eyes drifted shut as he bit at his lower lip. He was flushed so, so red. Hongjoong leaned in and licked a drop of sweat beading at the fine hairs at Seonghwa’s ear.
Seonghwa came, shuddering violently in Hongjoong’s arms. He tipped forward, his dead weight keeping Hongjoong pinned as he breathed heavily. Hongjoong’s hand was still wrapped around his cock, now a mess.
“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa said after a moment. He pushed himself back from the door, and Hongjoong pulled his hand free, holding it awkwardly away from his body. Seonghwa seemed calmer now, his eyes less wild, though no less intense. His mouth looked bruised. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Hongjoong looked down to Seonghwa’s still very hard dick, which showed no sign of flagging, then back up. “What about you?”
“I’m fine,” Seonghwa said, then winced as he shivered. “I’m better,” he amended. “Right now. I don’t know if—I don’t know if that will be enough.” He blushed, ducking his head.
“Okay,” Hongjoong said. “Maybe we should use the bed, then.”
Seonghwa’s eyes widened. “Yes,” he said. “We should.” He grabbed the hem of Hongjoong’s shirt and tugged him close again. “You’re staying?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Hongjoong said. He couldn’t take the weight of Seonghwa’s gaze much longer. “Go get on the bed already.”
Hongjoong snagged Seonghwa’s towel from the trash can and wiped his hand off as he followed Seonghwa to the bed. The sheets were a complete tangle. Hongjoong caught a glimpse of something brightly colored and phallic near the wall before Seonghwa sat down, hiding it from view, and did his best not to think too hard about what Seonghwa might have been doing before he’d arrived.
Seonghwa looked obscene, sprawled out over the lower bunk with traces of come still streaked along the inside of his thighs. His abs flexed as he propped himself up on his elbows; a lock of dark hair fell in a perfect comma over his forehead. He wouldn’t stop watching Hongjoong, gaze so hot and heavy that Hongjoong wanted to flee the room.
Instead, Hongjoong stripped off his jacket and his jeans, dropping them both to the floor, and resisted the urge to draw in on himself. He wasn’t generally terribly self-conscious about his body, but he felt small, almost delicate compared to Seonghwa, even with the work he had been putting into his chest and shoulders. He focused instead on how Seonghwa’s breath visibly quickened as he approached, on how Seonghwa clenched his hands in the bedsheets.
Hongjoong took a breath and slid forward, settling himself across Seonghwa’s lap before he could second-guess himself. Seonghwa stared up at him, almost wonderous, hands hesitantly moving to rest on Hongjoong’s thighs. Hongjoong couldn’t bear to look at him; so he kissed him instead.
Seonghwa definitely had a clearer head this time; he was able to focus on getting Hongjoong’s shirt off, for one thing, and his kisses weren’t quite as urgent. That was almost worse, though; Seonghwa was almost gentle, taking Hongjoong’s face in his hands once he’d successfully wrestled Hongjoong’s shirt away. There was still desperation in how tight he held on, but he kissed like he was savoring it.
They kissed for a long time—or at least it felt like a long time. Hongjoong didn’t know how to gauge the passing of seconds when Seonghwa was tracing along the curve of Hongjoong’s spine before settling his hand right above Hongjoong’s ass; when Seonghwa kept coming back for kisses like he needed them; when Seonghwa moaned, deep in the back of his throat, as Hongjoong stroked his hair.
“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa said between kisses, breathless but undeniably joyful. “Joong-ah, thank you.”
“Shut up,” Hongjoong said, stomach twisting. “Don’t thank me for this.”
Seonghwa nosed at the back of Hongjoong’s ear and licked the sweat beading along Hongjoong’s hairline. “Why not?”
Because that made it sound transactional. Like Hongjoong was doing Seonghwa a favor. Like he would want something in return. “What else was I gonna do?” he asked. “Let you suffer?”
“You could have,” Seonghwa said.
“Idiot,” Hongjoong said. He wrapped his arms tight around Seonghwa’s neck and kissed him hard to stop him from talking.
Seonghwa started to shift uncomfortably, grinding against Hongjoong’s ass in jerky, uncoordinated motions. Hongjoong reached back to encourage Seonghwa to grab his ass and shivered as Seonghwa dug his fingers in, holding Hongjoong still so he could rut up into him, using him.
Their mouths slid apart; Seonghwa’s tongue trailed along Hongjoong’s lower lip before he licked up to his ear. Hongjoong shuddered, head falling back, and held tight as Seonghwa scraped his teeth over Hongjoong’s pulse. Seonghwa ground up in a steady, sinuous motion. The hot pressure of Seonghwa’s cock against Hongjoong was unbearable; Hongjoong wanted desperately to get a hand around himself, but Seonghwa was holding him too tightly.
Seonghwa let out a little, hitched breath, his grip tightening on Hongjoong’s ass. Hongjoong kissed Seonghwa’s temple and murmured, “Go on.”
Seonghwa moaned and dug his teeth into Hongjoong’s throat as he came again, soaking the thin material of Hongjoong’s briefs with come. This time seemed less satisfying; he was still whimpering into Hongjoong’s neck, his grip just as tight. And he was still hard; of course.
“Hwa,” Hongjoong said. “Let me go for a minute.”
Seonghwa jerked back and stared at him, eyes huge. “No,” he said. He sounded gone, even more so than when Hongjoong had arrived. “Stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Hongjoong said. “I promise, Hwa. Just let go for a second, okay? You can hold my hand if you want.” Hongjoong reached back to take Seonghwa’s hand in his and held them up to demonstrate. “Okay?”
After a brief pause, Seonghwa nodded. He loosened his grip, letting Hongjoong scoot backwards off the bed. Hongjoong slid to his knees and looked up. Seonghwa stared at him, mouth agape, his gaze slightly clearer than before.
“Scoot up,” Hongjoong said, squeezing Seonghwa’s hand. “Come on.”
“Joong-ah.” Seonghwa pressed his free hand to Hongjoong’s cheek. “You don’t have to.”
“Stop it with that,” Hongjoong snapped. “Do you want me to go?”
“No!” Seonghwa’s hand tightened on his painfully. “No.”
“Then stop trying to make me leave,” Hongjoong said. “If I don’t want to do something, I’ll tell you.”
Seonghwa stroked his cheek, then cupped Hongjoong’s jaw, thumbing at the corner of Hongjoong’s mouth. “Okay.”
“Good.” Hongjoong gestured for Seonghwa to move closer. “Come on, then.”
Hongjoong settled back on his heels, not letting go of Seonghwa’s hand. Seonghwa came to the edge of the bed and bracketed Hongjoong between his knees. When Hongjoong touched the inside of Seonghwa’s thigh, nudging them wider, Seonghwa hissed and closed his eyes tight for a moment. Hongjoong leaned down to brush his lips against Seonghwa’s knee, then kissed higher and higher still until he was nosing at the base of Seonghwa’s desperately hard cock.
Seonghwa’s grip on his hand was tight enough to sting, even more so when Hongjoong flicked out his tongue to tease along Seonghwa’s balls. The rich scent of him, not entirely unfamiliar after spending so much time together, filled Hongjoong’s awareness, and his thoughts began to clear. This, this was simple.
Hongjoong pulled back and took Seonghwa’s length into his mouth.
And god, it had been ages since Hongjoong had sucked cock, but it was just as good as he remembered, the bitter taste a balance to the satisfaction of feeling the pulse against his tongue, the full weight in his mouth. He had dreamed of doing this with Seonghwa, of falling to his knees backstage after a concert—maybe even during, while a VCR played and they were supposed to be changing costumes—and sucking him off and seeing the boldness of Seonghwa’s stage persona fall away into desperate want. He’d always woken guilty but turned on, and glad that he mostly slept in the living room where he could sneak into the bathroom to jerk off without waking Seonghwa.
What he wanted in his dreams wasn’t the same as what he wanted when he was awake; or at least that’s what he told himself. Now he had to admit that he had been lying. It was intoxicating to hear Seonghwa’s moan and to feel it on his tongue, to look up through his lashes and see Seonghwa staring at him with his mouth open. Hongjoong wished he had both hands, but he could make do with one to cover what his mouth couldn’t.
Seonghwa whimpered, a punched-out noise of desperation, and reached out as if to touch Hongjoong’s head before pausing. Hongjoong guided Seonghwa’s hand to his cheek and held it there for a moment as he met Seonghwa’s gaze.
“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa whispered. “Jagiya.”
Hongjoong suppressed a startled flinch at the endearment, heat pooling in his belly despite himself. He wrenched his eyes away from Seonghwa’s and turned his attention back to Seonghwa’s cock. Seonghwa moaned and stopped talking immediately, and when Hongjoong chanced a look up, he saw that Seonghwa’s eyes were closed and he was biting so hard at his lower lip that it was turning white at the edges.
Hongjoong might have been out of practice, but it didn’t seem to matter much. Before too long, Seonghwa’s hips were shifting restlessly as he tried to keep still, his little breathy noises growing louder. His fingernails pricked at Hongjoong’s cheek; Hongjoong hoped they didn’t break the skin. That would be hard to explain later.
“Ah,” Seonghwa breathed. “Joong-ah—” He tried to tug Hongjoong off him, giving him a chance to get away, but Hongjoong stayed put as Seonghwa started to come again, pulling back just enough that he didn’t have to swallow it all. There was a strange spicy-sweet aftertaste behind the bitterness, rich on his tongue. Hongjoong dragged his fingers through the mess on his cheeks and chin, not looking away from Seonghwa, who stared at him as though he’d never seen anything better in his life.
“I can’t believe you’re still hard,” Hongjoong said. He trailed a finger along the underside of Seonghwa’s cock and smiled when Seonghwa twitched. “After all that?”
Seonghwa squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as Hongjoong bent his head to mouth at the damp dip of Seonghwa’s cock. “Joongie, jagiya—jagi, please.”
“Please what?”
Seonghwa drew in an audibly shaky breath. “I need—I still need more.” He opened his eyes and released Hongjoong’s hand to start tugging at Hongjoong’s shirt. “Off, off—”
Hongjoong batted Seonghwa’s hands away so he could finish undressing himself, wiping his face on the shirt and dropping it and his underwear next to his jeans. He was excruciatingly aware of just how hard he was.
Seonghwa let out a joyful sigh and dragged Hongjoong in by the waist, thumbs digging into the small of his back. Words seemed to have abandoned him; he just buried his face in Hongjoong’s chest, mouth and hands exploring until Hongjoong was squirming in his lap.
“Hwa,” Hongjoong said, panting, “I don’t know what you need, but if you want me to be useful at all—”
Seonghwa mumbled something into Hongjoong’s ribs. Hongjoong gently took a fistful of Seonghwa’s hair and tilted his head back. Seonghwa, bright red and dazed, looking almost drunk, said again, “Fuck me, Joong-ah.”
Hongjoong’s stomach flipped. Involuntarily, his mind filled with the image of Seonghwa spread out beneath him, mouth bitten raw. “Are you sure?”
“Jagi, please,” Seonghwa said, voice cracking. Hongjoong cracked too.
Seonghwa was already slick and stretched when Hongjoong got him pinned down against the bed; he had been fucking himself before Hongjoong arrived. Hongjoong tugged the sheets free from the wall and saw the vibrator he’d spotted earlier in all its vivid glory, along with a mostly-used bottle of lube. Hongjoong tested Seonghwa with a finger, then three, and marveled at how easily Seonghwa took them. If Hongjoong’s fingers were longer, or if he had more patience, it would be delicious to just tease Seonghwa like that. As it was, Hongjoong felt like he might die if he didn’t fuck Seonghwa as soon as possible.
Seonghwa’s lack of flexibility kept his knees tight against Hongjoong’s hips as he settled between Seonghwa’s legs, hunched to keep from hitting his head on the upper bunk. It would be easier—less strain—if Seonghwa were on his hands and knees, but he refused to move when Hongjoong tried to nudge him over. Hongjoong hitched Seonghwa’s hips up, hastily bunching the comforter beneath him to help with the angle, and took a second to gather himself, already overwhelmed.
Hongjoong bit the inside of his cheek as he slid into the tight, hot heat of Seonghwa’s body, unable to look away from how easily Seonghwa took him. Seonghwa had a hand tight around Hongjoong’s wrist, the other clenched in the sheets; he looked split between ecstasy and desperation. Hongjoong closed his eyes tight, the sight of Seonghwa enough to make him throb.
“Jagi,” Seonghwa whispered. One of his nails was pressed into the jut of Jongjoong’s wrist. Hongjoong focused on that singular point to keep himself from coming too soon. “Please—“
Hongjoong opened his eyes and jerked Seonghwa forward as Hongjoong thrust into him. Seonghwa’s mouth fell open with a startled gasp.
Seonghwa wanted it hard and fast; Hongjoong gave it to him, rocking the bunk into the wall hard enough that he had a momentary moment of worry before he was distracted by the arch of Seonghwa’s throat as he dropped his head back on a moan. Hongjoong forgot himself and got his arms under Seonghwa’s knees to really fuck into him, staring greedily at Seonghwa as he arched up, both hands holding onto the bunk frame now.
Seonghwa’s cock was leaking, twitching with each of Hongjoong’s thrusts. Seonghwa’s breathy moans melted into one continuous whine as Hongjoong sped up, chasing the high he could almost taste now. Hongjoong felt feverish, shaking like he had the chills as his balls tightened and his toes curled. He was digging his fingers into the meat of Seonghwa’s thighs hard enough to leave marks, but he couldn’t concentrate long enough to loosen his grip. His scalp tingled, the sensation traveling down his spine as the pleasure built to an almost painful high—and then he was coming with a rough, sobbing gasp, losing his rhythm but unable to stop moving as he spilled inside Seonghwa.
It took a moment for Hongjoong’s vision to clear. Then he dropped Seonghwa’s knees and got his hand around Seonghwa’s cock. Seonghwa moaned, breath catching in his throat, and came, clenching down on Hongjoong’s oversensitive cock.
Hongjoong hastily pulled out, though Seonghwa whined in confusion, and crouched down to get his mouth on Seonghwa’s cock again, catching the last spurts on his tongue. He slid his other hand back to press at Seonghwa’s loose opening, sliding four fingers inside easily enough. He teased his thumb around the rim, thought about easing it inside—and Seonghwa came again, less violently this time, dripping over Hongjoong’s lips and tongue.
Hongjoong sucked leisurely at Seonghwa’s cock as Seonghwa melted into the mattress. Seonghwa was still hard—still—but the franticness seemed to have left him, the tension finally gone. After a moment, Seonghwa’s hand settled in Hongjoong’s hair, stroking gently.
Hongjoong looked up and caught Seonghwa watching him with a soft, open expression. It was tender and fond, and far too gentle a look for Seonghwa to give when his cock was in Hongjoong’s mouth. Hongjoong’s eyes slipped closed as Seonghwa’s fingers traced along his ear, then down his jaw and finally to his lips, hardly more than a whisper of touch.
“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa said, “come here.”
He pushed Hongjoong off him and patted the mattress beside him. Hongjoong hesitated; it was one thing to fuck Seonghwa, but if he left now he could still tell himself it had been to help him. That it was a forgivable step over the line.
“Please, jagiya,” Seonghwa said, voice dropping low. Hongjoong went.
He settled himself carefully into the open curve of Seonghwa’s outstretched arm, still keeping a tiny bit of space between their bodies even as he laid his head in the hollow of Seonghwa’s shoulder. Hongjoong felt sticky with sweat and come and wondered how Seonghwa, neatfreak that he was, could stand it.
As if in answer, Seonghwa’s arm tightened around him, pulling them together. With his other hand, he lifted Hongjoong’s chin so they could kiss. Seonghwa licked every trace of himself from Hongjoong’s mouth, until Hongjoong was half-hard again despite the exhaustion beginning to settle into him. Hongjoong pressed his palm to Seonghwa’s sternum before sliding down to stroke Seonghwa’s cock, still hard after all this time.
Seonghwa broke their kiss and said, “You don’t have to. It’s getting better.”
He did sound better, the clearest he’d been all night. Still, he was trembling under Hongjoong’s touch, the need clearly starting back up again. Hongjoong rubbed his cheek against Seonghwa’s chest, thinking. His jaw was starting to feel stiff, the strain catching up with him, and as much as he wanted to be inside Seonghwa again, he didn’t think he could manage it.
“If you want,” Hongjoong said haltingly, gaze fixed on the wall, “you can fuck me. If that would help.”
Seonghwa stilled, even as his heartbeat began to race beneath Hongjoong’s ear. “I—fuck, Joong-ah.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “Are you serious?”
In reply, Hongjoong reached over Seonghwa to grope for the lube he’d seen earlier. He clumsily managed to get some in his palm, one-handed because he wouldn’t let go of Seonghwa’s cock, and slid his hand between his legs.
Seonghwa groaned and caught Hongjoong’s mouth with his. The heat was starting to rise again, and when they parted briefly to breathe, the color was high in Seonghwa’s face, the daze back in his eyes. Hongjoong grabbed the lube again and pushed it into Seonghwa’s hand before rolling over onto his stomach. A pause; then the slick sound of lube on skin.
Hongjoong squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to picture it: Seonghwa, looking over him, staring down at Hongjoong’s body laid out like a feast, fisting his cock with a shaky hand. He forced himself to think about the song he’d been working on earlier and the mix that Eden had showed him the day before, and—
He was interrupted by a hand on his ass, spreading one cheek wide. Seonghwa moved behind him, and a moment later Hongjoong felt lips at the dip of his back, followed by the glide of tongue down towards his ass.
He craned his neck to look back and saw that Seonghwa was staring at him intently. When their eyes met, Seonghwa smiled; not the smile he kept for the members or his family, but the smug, satisfied smirk he wore on stage. Hongjoong shuddered, but couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Seonghwa didn’t bother taking it slow, which was fine by Hongjoong. The first push inside stung a little, but then Seonghwa began fucking him in short, desperate thrusts, and that fell away in favor of getting fucked. Hongjoong dropped his head back down to the pillow and braced himself, fingers twisting in the sheets. The feeling of Seonghwa’s cock, the heat of his body, the way Seonghwa kept letting out tiny noises with every thrust, had Hongjoong lighting up from the inside.
He whined involuntarily when Seonghwa paused briefly to wrap an arm around Hongjoong’s waist and haul him back onto his hands and knees. Hongjoong gasped as Seonghwa ground into his ass, dragging the pleasure out of him. Seonghwa fucked him fast and hard, giving Hongjoong no chance to catch his breath. Distantly Hongjoong heard himself making embarrassingly needy sounds, and even though he was sure he wouldn’t be able to come again anytime soon, he was starting to get hard, Seonghwa’s thrusts making him leak.
“Jagiya,” Seonghwa said, voice almost unrecognizable. He dug his teeth into the back of Hongjoong’s neck and came, jerkily spilling inside him. Hongjoong whimpered; he’d never been fucked bare before, and he hadn’t expected to like the feeling, but oh, he did. He could feel the come sliding out of him as Seonghwa pulled out, filthy and delicious all at once.
Hongjoong collapsed onto his arms and sighed. Then he yelped as Seonghwa grabbed him by the shoulders and flipped him over, flailing out until Seonghwa caught his wrist and pinned it to the mattress.
“Jagi,” Seonghwa said, eyes wild. “Let me—again.”
“Again?” Hongjoong asked, then got his answer as Seonghwa took hold of his thighs and lifted him into a better position. “Oh—really?”
“Please,” Seonghwa said. His gaze darted from Hongjoong’s face to his ass, and Hongjoong went hot as he realized Seonghwa was looking at the come trickling out of him.
“You pervert,” Hongjoong said, breathless despite himself. “What, you wanna come inside again? Trying to knock me up or something?”
He meant it as a joke, but the way Seonghwa’s face flushed made him think—that one time—
“Right,” Hongjoong said, arousal fighting with embarrassment. “I promised you a baby, didn’t I?”
“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa hissed, voice strained. His face was bright red now, and his grip on Hongjoong’s wrist had tightened so much his veins were showing. “Stop.”
Hongjoong felt drunk with power now, giddy and delirious from the insanity of the night. “I promised,” he said. He wrapped his arm around Seonghwa’s neck and pulled him down close. “I said I’d make you a baby. So give me a baby, Hwa.”
Seonghwa made a noise like a punched-out sob and pushed back inside Hongjoong in one hard motion. Hongjoong gasped, back arching, and gave up any pretense of self-control as Seonghwa pounded into him. Every inch of him was on fire, dragging down to his now painfully hard cock. The new position, or maybe the renewed desperation, had Seonghwa fucking right into Hongjoong’s sweet spot, and the stinging pleasure wrung wrecked noises from Hongjoong’s mouth, until suddenly he was coming with no warning at all, the pleasure breaking over him in waves.
Hongjoong’s skin felt too tight, he was sweating all over, trembling, and Seonghwa was still fucking him. There was a manic glint in Seonghwa’s eyes, his gaze fixed on Hongjoong’s face as he pounded into him. Hongjoong pushed himself up enough to drag Seonghwa’s face back to his. Up close he was even more devastating, the painful desire evident in his face. Hongjoong pet the back of Seonghwa’s neck, said, “Come on, jagiya,” and Seonghwa screwed his eyes shut and came.
The desperation seemed to have left Seonghwa; he was content to lie there and kiss Hongjoong slow and sweet once he had pulled out. He was still hard, but when Hongjoong tried to move against him, Seonghwa shook his head and said, “No, no—I’m fine.”
They kissed, and kissed again. Now Hongjoong had time to take in the way Seonghwa kissed; a little overwhelming, though maybe that was just his freakishly long tongue, a lot sweet. He liked it when Hongjoong took control. His hair tickled Hongjoong’s forehead.
The warmth and weight of Seonghwa’s body had Hongjoong drifting closer to sleep, his tired muscles beginning to pull him down. He tried to focus, tried to force his eyes open, but Seonghwa just laughed and kissed his cheeks, then his nose.
“You can sleep,” he said. His voice sounded rough; good thing they didn’t have any difficult schedules in the next few days. “I’ll be okay.”
“I should shower,” Hongjoong said blearily.
“Tomorrow,” Seonghwa said. “It’s okay.”
Hongjoong wanted to say something to that—surely Seonghwa wanted to change his sheets, he changed them every week as it was—but instead exhaustion overtook him and he fell deep into sleep.
He woke twice; the first time was to pee, which was made difficult by the fact that Seonghwa had wrapped around him in their sleep. Hongjoong briefly considered the logistics of getting out without waking Seonghwa and quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, he just peeled Seongwa’s arm off his waist and climbed over him, smiling when he heard Seonghwa’s quiet groan of annoyance. Hongjoong limped to the bathroom and spent a few minutes massaging the backs of his thighs after he'd used the bathroom. He rinsed himself in the shower, toweling off the worst of the mess, before gingerly walking back to the bedroom, where Seonghwa was now awake.
“Okay?” Seonghwa asked, voice sleep-blurred and muffled.
“I’m fine,” Hongjoong said softly. “Sorry I woke you.”
“It’s fine.” Seonghwa moved over so Hongjoong didn’t have to climb over him and waited for Hongjoong to lay down again before wrapping him up and pulling him close. He pressed his face to the back of Hongjoong’s head. “You’re wet.”
“Rinsed off a little.” Hongjoong shifted around to get comfortable. “Go back to sleep.”
“Mmkay.” Seonghwa curled up against him so that they were tucked tight together and went still. Hongjoong laid there, feeling the rise and fall of Seonghwa’s chest against his back. In the dark, everything seemed a bit like a dream; if it weren’t for the very real ache in his limbs, maybe he could have believed it was.
They needed to talk. But with the warmth of Seongwa’s body against his and the muffled quiet of the room, it was hard to remember why.
The next time Hongjoong woke, it was to Seonghwa grinding up against him. Hongjoong took a moment to reorient himself, then said, “Hwa?”
There was no answer. With some difficulty, thanks to Seonghwa’s heavy grip on his waist, Hongjoong turned over and saw that Seonghwa was still asleep, his mouth slack as he panted and tried to push forward into Hongjoong’s thigh.
“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. “Hwa. Wake up.”
It took a few moments for Seonghwa to come to. When he did, he jerked back from Hongjoong with wide eyes and said, “Oh.”
“Come back,” Hongjoong said sleepily. He pulled Seonghwa to him and pushed his thigh between Seonghwa’s legs before kissing him, stale breath and all.
Seonghwa whimpered into Hongjoong’s mouth and clutched him close, rutting desperately against him. He came quickly, biting Hongjoong’s lower lip on accident and whispering an apology. Hongjoong bit him back and laughed when Seonghwa made an offended noise.
“Better?” Hongjoong asked.
“Mm.” Seonghwa shifted so that he could tuck Hongjoong beneath his chin. Hongjoong took that as a yes and relaxed back into sleep, lulled by the movement of Seonghwa’s chest against his.
Hongjoong awoke in the morning hungry and aching. He was alone; Seonghwa had somehow climbed out of bed without waking him.
He sat up slowly, wincing at the soreness in his lower back and hips, and looked around the room. It had been tidied up—no more clothes on the floor, the towel gone—and it smelled as though Seonghwa had sprayed some air freshener. He must be feeling better.
Hongjoong laboriously pulled himself out of bed and grabbed a robe from Seonghwa’s closet. He wasn’t quite up for getting dressed yet, and he needed a real shower anyway—he could feel the dried remains of the night on his stomach and thighs.
He went out to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and found Seonghwa there, dressed in sweatpants and a loose shirt, heating jjigae on the stove. Hongjoong watched him for a moment, taking in the mess of his hair and the faint red marks on his neck, just above his collar.
The rice cooker beeped. Seonghwa turned to check on it and caught sight of Hongjoong. He stopped, eyes widening.
“Morning,” Hongjoong said.
“Good morning,” Seonghwa said, barely above a whisper.
Hongjoong decided not to be a coward and moved into the kitchen to grab a glass. “It looks like you’re feeling better.”
“I am.” Seonghwa was watching him, Hongjoong could feel it. “Are you . . . okay?”
“A little sore,” Hongjoong said as he opened the fridge. “I was going to take a shower, though. That’ll probably help.”
“Oh—yeah.”
Hongjoong filled his glass and let the door swing shut before turning to face Seonghwa. As soon as he did, Seonghwa dropped his gaze to the floor, cheeks turning red.
Cute, Hongjoong thought, and immediately had to turn away. He shuffled around to the other side of the counter and sat on a stool, suppressing a wince at the change in position.
“I made breakfast,” Seonghwa said, unnecessarily. Hongjoong nodded and drank half his water glass in one go. “Let me refill that for you.”
“Hwa, it’s all right—” Hongjoong started to say, but Seonghwa had already swiped the glass from the counter and gone back to the fridge. Seonghwa’s shoulders were tense, his movements jerky. Hongjoong didn’t know what to say to make it better; everything that had seemed easy and simple in the privacy of their bedroom felt impossible now.
Seonghwa set the glass back in front of Hongjoong and hovered awkwardly, rubbing his hands over his thighs, as Hongjoong drained it again. This time, Seonghwa didn’t even wait for Hongjoong to put it down, just taking it out of his hand before going back to the fridge.
“Stop it,” Hongjoong said in exasperation. “I’m not injured, I can get it myself.”
Seonghwa didn’t respond. He returned the filled glass to Hongjoong and went back to the stove. Hongjoong considered being helpful and getting them bowls and utensils, but despite what he’d said, he really didn’t want to move that much if he didn’t have to.
To occupy himself, he took his phone out and started scrolling through his messages. His battery was almost dead, since he hadn’t thought to plug it in the night before, and he had 34 messages, most of them from Wooyoung. The most recent one, sent about twenty minutes earlier, asked, Is it safe to come home now?
“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said suddenly.
Hongjoong looked up. Seonghwa was standing with his back to the stove, as far away from Hongjoong as he could be, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. He looked as though he was about to cry.
“What?” Hongjoong asked.
“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said again. “I told Wooyoung to stop me—he shouldn’t have called you.”
“Stop you?”
Seonghwa winced and looked away. “When it started, I didn’t want you to—it didn’t seem fair. To you.”
Hongjoong scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to parse what Seonghwa was saying. “Start from the beginning. What exactly happened yesterday?”
There wasn’t much to the story. Seonghwa had gone out and had lunch with a couple of people from the 98z chat—Hongjoong forced himself not to ask if Juyeon had been there—and then had gone to the company to practice a bit. He’d started feeling weird around there, hot and almost itchy, so he’d gone back to the dorms, thinking he might be sick.
“I got into our room,” Seonghwa said, very quietly now, “and that’s when it started.”
“The, uh—” Hongjoong gestured vaguely. Seonghwa nodded. “Okay, so then what?”
Seonghwa shook his head. “I don’t remember clearly after that. I just know that I was—I wasn’t myself. The next thing I really remember is when you came back.”
Hongjoong got the feeling that Seonghwa was lying, or at the very least not telling the whole truth, but he decided to leave it for now. “Do you remember after that?”
“Oh, uh.” Seonghwa turned red again, the flush running down his neck. “Yes.”
Did you want me, Hongjoong wanted to ask. Do you still want me?
Instead, he asked, “Why did you say sorry, exactly?”
“It just—it doesn’t seem fair,” Seonghwa said. “I made you come here and—I could have told you to leave, I even thought about it, but instead I kept you here. You don’t, ah. Yeah.”
“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said, annoyed now, “if I’d wanted to leave, I would have.”
Seonghwa stared at him, a hint of disbelief in his expression, then shook his head slightly and said, “All right. Then, thank you.”
“Don’t fucking thank me,” Hongjoong snapped. “I told you not to thank me for this, there’s nothing to thank me for.”
Seonghwa stiffened, shoulders rising up. “Sorry.”
“And stop saying sorry!” Hongjoong slid off the stool, almost vibrating with anger. “Why do you keep apologizing?”
“I’m trying to make you feel better!” Seonghwa snapped back.
“I don’t need to feel better!” Hongjoong shouted. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to, so fuck you for acting like I can’t make my own fucking decisions. I wanted to be there, Hwa, I liked being there, and if you didn’t, then—well, then you have something to be sorry for.”
Hongjoong ran out of breath and had to braced himself on the counter, knuckles going white. He wanted to do—something. To hit Seonghwa, or kiss him, or leave the dorm and never come back. To take back all the words he just said, all of that uncomfortable, undeniable honesty. That he’d wanted to be there; that he’d been glad Seonghwa wanted him.
Seonghwa didn’t say anything. He just stared at Hongjoong, mouth slack in surprise. It was worse than if he’d rejected Hongjoong outright.
“I’m taking a shower,” Hongjoong said. “Tell the kids they can come home. Wooyoungie was asking.”
In the bathroom, he turned the shower as hot as he could tolerate and stood beneath the spray with his eyes closed. As he let the hot water soothe his tired body, there was a knock at the door.
“Fuck off,” Hongjoong called.
The door opened and Seonghwa came in. Honjoong glared at him through the glass, growing even more annoyed at how Seonghwa avoided looking at his body, as though Seonghwa hadn’t been inside him less than twelve hours ago.
“What part of fuck off don’t you understand?” Hongjoong asked.
Seonghwa met his eyes. There was a steadiness to his gaze that quieted some of Hongjoong’s anger. Slow and deliberate, Seonghwa began to undress, taking off his shirt, folding it neatly, then reaching for his waistband.
“What are you doing?” Hongjoong asked.
“Joining you,” Seonghwa said. “If that’s okay.”
Hongjoong wanted to say it wasn’t, but the seriousness of Seonghwa’s expression held him back. This was Seonghwa, free of whatever urges had gripped him the night before, asking to join Hongjoong. Hongjoong knew that if he told Seonghwa to fuck off again, he would. They’d probably never talk about this again. It would hang in the air between them forever, poisoning their friendship. Maybe they’d get past it. More likely, they wouldn’t.
“Fine,” Hongjoong said. He tilted his face up into the spray and listened as Seonghwa moved around the bathroom. The glass door squeaked as Seonghwa slid it open and stepped inside.
There was a gentle touch at the side of his throat where Seonghwa’s teeth had left their mark. “I wanted it to be special,” Seonghwa said in a low voice.
Hongjoong blinked his eyes open to look at him. Seonghwa quirked a smile as his thumb rubbed along the length of Hongjoong’s neck.
“I apologized because it shouldn’t have happened this way,” Seonghwa said. “Not because I didn’t want you.” He let out a sigh and leaned in to touch their foreheads together. “I’ve always wanted you, jagiya.”
Hongjoong’s reply stuck in his throat, trapped by the sheer fondness and adoration in Seonghwa’s voice. He was pinned beneath Seonghwa’s touch as surely as he’d been the night before. How did Seonghwa not understand that this might be the only way it could have happened? That without something to push him over the line, Hongjoong might have always kept that wall between them.
“It was special enough,” Hongjoong said finally.
Seonghwa pulled back, starting to smile. He was always beautiful, but his smile—his real smile—made him incandescent. Hongjoong ducked his head, unable to look at Seonghwa when his face was like that, only for Seonghwa to push his chin up again.
“I like you so much,” Seonghwa said, so full of sincerity and earnestness that Hongjoong wanted to cringe away.
“I hate you,” Hongjoong told him. Seonghwa laughed and kissed him.
Seonghwa helped Hongjoong get clean, scrubbing his back while kissing behind Hongjoong’s ear before slowly massaging shampoo into Hongjoong’s hair. He was gentle and thorough, rubbing circles along Hongjoong’s scalp until he was shivery and pliant. Hongjoong was starting to get hard.
Seonghwa, on the other hand, was not. He caught Hongjoong’s gaze and said wryly, “I think I’m going to need a day to recover.” He laughed at whatever he saw in Hongjoong’s face and pulled him in for a hot, searing kiss. “Don’t worry, jagi. I’ll take care of you.”
He sunk to his knees and nudged Hongjoong to brace himself against the shower wall before taking Hongjoong’s cock in his mouth. Hongjoong moaned and let his head all back against the tiles.
It didn’t take much; just the faint brush of Seonghwa’s fingers against his sore ass was enough to have him coming, hot at the memory of Seonghwa inside him. Seonghwa caught him as he started to slither down the wall and kissed him. Hongjoong broke away and made a face at the taste of his own come.
Seonghwa grinned and licked the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll rinse my mouth out.”
“I thought you were a neat freak, but it turns out you’re a real pervert about this stuff,” Hongjoong said primly, turning to rinse his body off again. Seonghwa slapped his ass lightly and climbed out of the shower.
Once they were both clean and dry, their teeth freshly brushed, Seonghwa reeled Hongjoong in for a toothpaste-minty kiss. Hongjoong sighed into it and let Seonghwa lift him onto the counter, wrapping his legs around Seonghwa’s waist to keep him close.
Someone banged on the door. They broke apart, looking at each other, then at the door.
“What?” Hongjoong yelled.
“You said it was safe to come back, hyung!” came Wooyoung’s shrill voice. “Come on, Yunho and Mingi need to shower too, they were at the PC café all night.”
“As if I haven’t heard him and San a hundred times,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath. “Okay, we’re coming out! Calm down.”
Seonghwa groaned in annoyance and leaned their heads together. “I shouldn’t have text him before getting in here.”
“Probably not,” Hongjoong agreed. “You gonna let me get down?”
Seonghwa scooted back so Hongjoong could slide to the ground, then took his hand. Hongjoong’s stupid, easily pleased heart jumped in his chest. “Let’s go.”
They returned to the kitchen together to find everyone else crowded around the counter, eating the jjigae and rice Seonghwa had made. Seonghwa sighed in exasperation and gave Hongjoong a look before going to investigate what was left.
Hongjoong put his hands on his hips and surveyed them all. Jongho was sitting the furthest away, Yeosang standing next to him and seemingly oblivious to everyone else. Wooyoung had already draped himself along San’s back and was letting San feed him. Yunho and Mingi, who did both look a little worse for wear, were focused on their food.
“Good morning,” Hongjoong said, drawing their attention.
“Morning,” they chorused back. None of them made any move to stop eating. Figured.
“Hey, is hyung okay now?” Mingi asked through a mouthful of rice.
“I’m fine,” Seonghwa said from the stove. “At least you left us something to eat.”
“There are buns in the fridge,” Yunho said. He looked Hongjoong over, eyes lingering on the mark on his neck. “So, the two of you.”
“Yes, the two of us,” Hongjoong said, crossing his arms. “Anyone have anything to say?”
San shrugged. “Nah.”
“Is it going to . . . continue?” Yunho asked.
Hongjoong looked over to Seonghwa, and found Seonghwa already looking at him. He smiled, knowing he looked soft and absolutely whipped. “I think so. Hwa?”
“Mm.” Seonghwa smiled back at him. “Yes.”
“Thank god,” Jongho said from the corner.
“Congratulations!” Wooyoung said, ignoring Jongho. “If you guys need any advice, San and I—”
“Nope, stop,” Hongjoong said, holding up his hand. “Stop there.”
“Please,” Yunho agreed.
Yeosang looked up, a smear of jjigae on his upper lip. “Wait, what about you and Seonghwa-hyung?”
“I’ll explain later, Sangie,” Wooyoung said over his shoulder.
Seonghwa came over to Hongjoong with two bowls of jjigae and rice. He kissed Hongjoong’s temple and said, “Here you go, jagiya.”
Hongjoong felt himself immediately go bright red and hastily shoveled some food into his mouth. Seonghwa looked immensely pleased with himself as he went to sit at the dining table.
Hongjoong avoided meeting anyone else’s eyes and joined Seonghwa. He could feel their members watching them. “I feel like we’re zoo animals,” he told Seonghwa.
“They’re just curious, jagi.” Seonghwa clicked his tongue. “You’ve got some food on your mouth.” He reached over to rub his thumb over Hongjoong’s lower lip. When Seonghwa pulled away, his thumb was clean of everything except a slight trace of dampness, but he still popped it in his mouth to lick it clean.
Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he accused.
Seonghwa looked as though he were suppressing a smile. “Am I?”
Hongjoong kicked the leg of Seonghwa’s chair, but he was smiling too, unable to help himself. He didn’t dare look over at their members. “I hate you.”
“I know,” Seonghwa said. Beneath the table, he caught Hongjoong’s ankle with his foot.
Eventually, the other members got bored with watching them eat and wandered off to their own rooms. Seonghwa roped Hongjoong into helping him with the dishes, and the two of them quietly washed up together, not needing to speak.
They were almost done when Hongjoong finally found the voice to speak. Without looking at Seonghwa, he said, “Hwa—I like you too.”
Seonghwa bumped their shoulders together and waited for Hongjoong to look up. He pressed a soft kiss to Hongjoong’s mouth and said, “Okay.”
“Okay,” Hongjoong said. He looked back down at the dish in his hands, smiling helplessly. Further down in the dorm he could hear the faint noise of the shower; Wooyoung’s voice, muffled; San singing to himself in his room. Beside him, Seonghwa hummed absently under his breath as he rinsed out the rice cooker bowl. After this, he was going to talk Seonghwa into going back to bed with him; but for now it was enough to stand next to each other, breathing the same air, feeling the same thing.