Work Text:
Jeonghan is about halfway to falling asleep on the massage table when his phone starts buzzing on the table next to him.
Groaning, he stretches his arm over to pick up the call, already knowing who it’s from.
“Hi, Jun-Jun.”
“ Jeonghan, don’t forget, audition at 7:00. ”
Not even a hello. Jeonghan hates how straightforward Junhui is, and hates how much he actually appreciates it even more. It’s necessary, considering how whiny and avoidant Jeonghan gets sometimes about work when he’s not in the mood.
“Why does it have to be so late, who the hell does auditions at 7:00 PM?”
Junhui huffs, “ Important people who can make the rest of us run on their schedule. ”
He knows Junhui can’t see, but he rolls his eyes anyway. “Important people like who?”
“ Important people like S.Coups, Jeonghan. ”
“Ugh, he’s just some guy, not the fucking pope .” He winces at a particular deep dig into his left shoulder. “Besides, I know they’ll choose me, they’re just gonna turn me around a couple times and figure out what to do with me, can’t we just send over a 360 video and tell them to deal with it?”
Junhui sighs into the phone, “ I’ll see you at 6:15, Jeonghan. ”
The call ends, and Jeonghan huffs and shoves his face back into the opening of the table. It was worth a shot.
When Junhui picks him up at exactly 6:15, there are two coffees in the cup holder, and Jeonghan perks up almost immediately.
Junhui notices and halts his happiness in its tracks, “Caffeine-free. You have to be up for a shoot in the morning, I’m not letting you keep yourself up for hours.”
Jeonghan slouches in his seat. Buzzkill . Thoughtful buzzkill, but a buzzkill nonetheless.
Another thing Jeonghan is grateful for, Junhui is scarily accurate with his timing, so they arrive exactly twenty minutes before his audition time. Jeonghan thinks five minutes should be enough, but considering all the logistical prep takes about fifteen minutes, he’s sort of glad Junhui’s never going to let him try.
That part Jeonghan usually blacks out, goes through the motions on autopilot until he’s in the room with whoever is dissecting him.
But when he gets there, standing in front of a tiny panel of two staff members, the hair on the back of his neck prickles. If there’s one thing he’s gained from living as a famous model, it’s the ability to feel eyes on him.
When he turns his head to the left corner, he’s met with the eyes that were previously boring into his skull.
There’s a man sitting on a chair off to the side, arms crossed, legs spread, head level, eyes locked on Jeonghan. His jarring red hair is pushed out of his eyes so there’s a clear view of his strong, slightly furrowed eyebrows. Jeonghan recognizes him as the rapper himself, S.Coups.
There’s an aura hanging over him, a demand for respect and attention, and Jeonghan is professional enough to not roll his eyes at the display. It’s an intimidation tactic at best, to look so dominant and powerful and sexy .
Jeonghan hasn’t been nervous or out of his element since the beginning of his career, and he wasn’t about to start now. Arrogance isn’t intimidating; not when it’s something Jeonghan can match with ease.
He tuts his chin up the slightest bit, and S.Coups doesn’t budge, just keeps his eyes locked on Jeonghan. It’s unusual, him being here. Jeonghan hasn’t ever been in a music video, but he imagines that not many artists take part in their own direction or casting.
It didn’t make him nervous, but he’s only human; the aggressive attention makes him shift on his feet and adjust his blouse. Only once. That’s all he allows himself.
The process goes just as Jeonghan imagined it would, until it doesn’t.
He does what they tell him, moves around how they direct him (360 included), and after only a few minutes of intense examination, there’s a shift in the corner of the room.
S.Coups is up out of his seat and heading in Jeonghan’s direction, who forces himself to not tense and keep up his elegant disposition. Even his walk is something notable, and Jeonghan despises the fact that he can’t look away.
He doesn’t spare a glance to either Jeonghan or the two women at the table as he walks out, just his own judgement:
“I want him.”
This must be the thousandth time Jeonghan’s heard this, but this time it rings in his head. The depth and conviction in his voice makes Jeonghan swallow. His sensitive nose picks up on a breeze of strong cologne, something fruity and woody at the same time, as he passes.
One of the women is evidently exasperated, judging by the way she calls after him, “ Seungcheol, we have to-”
The door slams shut behind him.
She sighs, takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes. The other director turns to her and shrugs, “You knew this was going to happen.”
The first woman waves her off and turns her attention back to Jeonghan.
“You heard the boss, he wants you. We’ll send all the filming details to your manager.”
Jeonghan nods and opens his mouth for the whole goodbye sequence, but gets cut off by the other director.
“Do us a favor, give him a hard time, will you?”
Both Jeonghan and the other woman burst out laughing, and Jeonghan is suddenly very grateful for the opportunity.
He gives the two directors a salute, promising his best, or worst, work.
Despite the image he’s curated of a high-class model, Jeonghan likes to consider himself as someone who is generally down-to-earth, especially when it comes to work. He’s had his fair share of dealing with divas in the industry and wasn’t a fan of forcing people who were paid much less than him to deal with that kind of attitude. In his head, the venn diagram of models who wear head-to-toe luxurious Givenchy and models who have a stick all the way up their ass is a circle. But that’s just a personal vendetta.
But someone of his caliber? Someone who had his same confidence? He could definitely have fun with this.
He was given the rundown after his “audition”; it was a post-album-release single music video, so nothing extravagant. There was a vintage car, because there’s always a vintage car, and Jeonghan’s job was to play a beautiful arm piece.
Being beautiful was pretty much his whole career, so this wasn’t really the most daunting task. Plus, he’s done photoshoots with various artists before, so he thinks he’s got the gist of what it’ll be like working with one.
In any case, he’s done his research.
The night before, Jeonghan had given in to temptation and typed S.Coups into the search bar on his phone. Unsurprisingly, he was the only result, with a name like that. Whatever the hell it means.
Countless articles of broken sales records, tour announcements, and album reviews flooded the search results. Jeonghan didn’t really care much for those. He clicked the video tab, looking for a music video or performance to watch.
He landed on a performance from a concert at Tokyo Dome about a year and a half ago.
The music doesn’t start right away, but when it does, it’s drowned out by cheers and screams and Jeonghan turns his volume down.
It would be a lie to say he isn’t impressed by the performance; everything about the guy exudes confidence in what he’s doing, his aura just as powerful as it was when they were in the same room. At some point in the middle of the song, he sheds his jacket, left in a tight, sleeveless shirt that’s short enough to leave the slightest gap between it and his leather pants.
While Jeonghan’s eyes are darting between his then blonde hair, his face, and his body, he’s hit with an irritating realization.
This S.Coups guy is exactly his type.
At least, physically. The thick, well-muscled arms were sort of the last straw.
But Jeonghan doesn’t mix work and pleasure, not for a few months at the very least, so chooses to walk onto the set with a clear head and an initiative to only slightly bother S.Coups.
It’s an added bonus, too; testing how much of an attitude the guy can deal with. Testing how he actually dealt with it would have to come at a later date, if at all. Jeonghan was a little bit of a diva after all, but only behind closed doors.
When he arrives, he’s immediately ushered into a dressing room to get done up the way they want him. He has to stifle a laugh at the outfit. It’s not really that ugly, just a little too… on the nose. A pair of black shorts with a tight black off the shoulder top and heeled boots to match. Not an egregious getup, but definitely not Jeonghan’s usual, and definitely something they would put him in when his only responsibility is to be sexy.
He’s grateful his hair is done the way he likes, in a half up-half down style, but the little diamond cuff in the ponytail is undeniably tacky. Though, he’s a lot less bothered when he’s decked out in complementary sparkling jewelry from head to toe, diamonds dancing in the light like he’s never seen.
After getting his makeup done, he’s guided to the filming area, where he sees S.Coups already sitting in the driver’s seat.
Jeonghan tries to ignore how good he looks, with his vibrant red hair and all black fit, complete with, of course, a leather jacket. On the nose.
His boots click with every step he takes as he walks up to the passenger side. He doesn’t miss the way S.Coups looks him up and down when he notices his presence.
“So, S.Coups-”
“Seungcheol.”
Jeonghan crosses his arms, “Okay, Seungcheol, how are we doing this?”
Seungcheol shrugs, “You just sit and look pretty for me.”
Jeonghan scoffs and lets himself into the passenger’s seat of what looks like an old Cadillac convertible. He contemplates for a moment on which route to take: being closed off and snooty would definitely be aggravating, but being self-absorbed and a little bit clingy presents itself as a much more entertaining idea.
Taking advantage of the lack of console in the car, Jeonghan sidles up to Seungcheol, far too close for not even having started filming yet. The staff are in a tizzy around them, so everyone is sufficiently distracted by preparations to not pay attention to them.
For a guy who presents himself as being so unflappable, he doesn’t do a great job of hiding the hitch in his breath when Jeonghan comes in close, his front almost touching Seungcheol’s side. He leans his head on his hand, his elbow propped up on the back of the seat, and plasters on one of his charmingly coy smiles.
Seungcheol doesn’t spare him a glance.
“So, tell me, Seungcheol, what made you choose me?”
Seungcheol lets out a half laugh, “You can’t come to a conclusion on your own?”
Jeonghan tucks his legs in behind him on the seat, “Is it so bad if I want to hear it?”
“Right, you’re a model, you’re used to being showered in compliments.”
Jeonghan furrows his brows and crosses his arms. “Oh, and you aren’t the same? I can’t imagine how big your head’s gotten from the way your fans worship you.”
This time, Seungcheol does turn to him, a smirk growing on his face.
“Relax, princess, I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it, did I? Just an observation.”
Jeonghan huffs and turns his head away to try and hide the way his cheeks are heating up. Seungcheol must sense his sudden shyness and slings an arm over the back of the seat.
“Because I knew we’d look good together, that’s why.”
He’s right, of course.
“Well I definitely look good, but that’s sort of a given, no?”
Seungcheol clicks his tongue, “It is a given. Nothing for me?”
Jeonghan taps his chin, faking deep thought, “Mm, that’s kinda what I’m here for. You know, to make you look better!”
“You don’t even believe that.” There’s the slightest twinge of irritation lacing Seungcheol’s words, and Jeonghan tries focusing on that rather than the fact that his bluff was called. He’s mastered his poker face anyway.
He turns his body back to Seungcheol, tilting his head just enough to feign innocence. “Oh, but I do. You should’ve thought a little more about choosing someone so pretty, might backfire and make you look bad.” Jeonghan was lying through his teeth; being so close, face-to-face with Seungcheol now, he could see just how handsome he was, and it was honestly a little bit annoying. He wants to be mad at him for having a well-supported ego, but he supposes it would be wildly hypocritical.
But his teasing does its job. Seungcheol’s jaw is tightened, and Jeonghan can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of him.
After he doesn’t get anymore of a response, Jeonghan decides he needs to up the ante. He sighs dramatically, once, twice, until Seungcheol, very reluctantly asks, “What’s your deal?”
Jeonghan pouts, “I’m cold.”
Seungcheol barks out a laugh, “Seriously? That’s what you’re huffing and puffing about?”
“Look at my outfit!”
“What, didn’t get enough attention yet?”
Jeonghan smacks his chest with the back of his hand.
“You know what I mean.”
“What should I do? Start a fire on the dashboard? Lasso the sun here for you, your majesty?” Sarcasm drips from Seungcheol’s voice.
“Usually, a gentleman would give his jacket.”
“But then I’ll get cold,” Seungcheol says, very falsely sincerely. How annoying.
Jeonghan squints, then starts to rub his arms, the thin fabric doing nothing to preserve warmth.
“There’s no heat in this car?”
There’s a heavy silence, and then Seungcheol responds; “It’s a good thing you’re so pretty.”
Jeonghan makes a high-pitched sound of offense, “You asshole, I was joking. ”
“For sure.”
Before they can continue, there’s a director shouting instructions through a megaphone and the two of them snap into work mode.
They’re directed into a few different positions, most of them Jeonghan leaning onto Seungcheol, even having his head in the redhead’s lap at one point.
“Okay, good, now let’s get a shot of you in his lap, Jeonghan.”
Jeonghan is a professional. He’s a professional, so, without being asked twice, he swings his long leg over Seungcheol’s lap, letting himself sit down slowly.
It’s a bit excessive, lowering himself while holding eye contact with Seungcheol, but Jeonghan was nothing if not a lover of the excess and thrill of it all.
It seems Seungcheol has plans of his own, though, and brings his big, heavy palms to rest on Jeonghan’s thighs. The touch is electrifying, and Jeonghan forces himself to ignore the way his hands wrap around his legs.
The voice comes through the megaphone again, “Perfect! Keep looking at each other. Seungcheol, move your hands in a way that feels natural! You too, Jeonghan!”
The corner of Seungcheol’s lips quirks up and his hands are now smoothing up and down Jeonghan’s bare legs. Jeonghan still doesn’t break eye contact. His own hands are holding onto Seungcheol’s firm shoulders.
“I like the outfit.”
“Didn’t pick it,” Jeonghan has no plans of reeling in the defiance anytime soon.
“Of course, I did.”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes, “Fat chance.”
Seungcheol smiles wide, “You got me.”
They get their footage in, Seungcheol lip-syncing to the song and Jeonghan moving in whatever ways he knows make him look irresistible; hands in his hair, throwing his head back, a slight arch of his back.
Seungcheol reaches a hand up to the glimmering necklace around Jeonghan’s neck, hooking a finger through the front.
“This one I did choose. The diamond looks good.”
“Diamond?” Jeonghan moves his hands from Seungcheol’s shoulders down to his chest, “You sure it’s not moissanite? I thought I saw a rainbow reflection.”
Seungcheol’s dark brows furrow, and he pulls Jeonghan a little closer by the necklace, who holds back a gasp as best as he can.
“You think I can’t afford it? You think I would get you on here wearing fake diamonds?”
Jeonghan, the professional he is, keeps his composure. “Maybe I just think you’re cheap.”
Seungcheol’s eyes narrow.
“I don’t fuck around with my money, and I don’t skimp on making whoever I’m with look good.”
In the end, it really was all a test, Seungcheol up against Jeonghan’s attitude, and Christ did he pass with flying colors.
“Real humble of you.”
Their faces are closer than was ever necessary.
“Never claimed to be.”
Jeonghan’s eyes are darting between Seungcheol’s, who’s looking up at him in a way that makes him squirm. He’s all too aware of where their bodies connect, and just when he thinks he might not be able to handle it any longer, he’s saved by a director shouting cut!
Almost immediately following the signal, Seungcheol grabs Jeonghan by the waist and practically tosses him off to the side. Jeonghan yelps when his back thuds against the leather seat of the car.
He sits himself up and scoffs with indignation, both at the rough treatment and Seungcheol’s nonchalance about it afterwards.
“Do you mind?”
Seungcheol shrugs, “No, not really.”
Jeonghan pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, an irritated laugh escaping him, “Usually, people don’t manhandle their models, dickhead.”
Seungcheol crosses his arms and cocks his head at Jeonghan, “Are you always this whiny?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead.”
“Then yes, I am,” Jeonghan tilts his chin up, brushes his hair behind his shoulders, and fixes his posture, “Are you always this much of an arrogant prick?”
Seungcheol smiles, his dimples making an appearance as well, “You bet your ass, baby.”
Jeonghan leans against the passenger side door and stretches his legs across the seat so his heels land right in Seungcheol’s lap, who grunts when the shoes make rough contact with his groin.
“Then I guess we’re even,” Jeonghan hums.
The look Seungcheol gives him is darkened with something that makes his heart rate kick up, something that tells him whatever he’s doing has a real effect.
“I guess so.”
It’s shameful, it’s humiliating. Jeonghan doesn’t know how it happened, how he got to the point of being pinned against a wall and kissed until he’s breathless.
Well, he does know how he got here. He got here when they finished shooting and Seungcheol pulled him into his dressing room, pressing him up to the wall and dwarfing him in size completely. The tension during the shoot was bad enough, but it pales in comparison to the seconds dragging on right before Seungcheol finally brings their lips together.
“Gonna whine about this too?” Seungcheol’s voice is low, his mouth so close to Jeonghan’s.
“Not if you’re good.”
So Seungcheol does his best to prove a point. Kisses him like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, like he was divinely chosen to bring Jeonghan to his knees.
A hand comes down from where it’s resting on Jeonghan’s waist and reaches around to squeeze his ass, pulling a gasp from his occupied lips. Seungcheol takes the opening to kiss him harder, to slide his tongue into Jeonghan’s mouth.
Seungcheol squeezes again, this time pulling their clothed cocks together to grind against one another. Jeonghan tries to stifle his groan in Seungcheol’s mouth, but his desperation is evident in the way he’s clutching Seungcheol’s jacket for dear life, scared his soul is going to leave his body at any given moment.
It’s Seungcheol who controls the pace, who moves Jeonghan at his will and grinds them together continuously.
Jeonghan usually doesn’t mix work and sex, and he’s never hooked up with someone on the same day of working with them. Usually, however, the people he works with aren’t physical manifestations of his wet dreams.
Seungcheol shifts his thigh between Jeonghan’s, one hand gripping his hip, the other gathering both of his wrists and pinning them above his head. Seungcheol holds himself still while he pulls Jeonghan in over and over, sinking his teeth into Jeonghan’s bare clavicle.
The taste of metal starts to flood Jeonghan’s tongue from biting his lips so hard to hold back his noises. Still, some whines escape when Seungcheol licks over the fresh marks on his chest.
“Still whining,” Seungcheol jokes when he pulls away, slightly out of breath. Somehow, Jeonghan has enough energy to roll his eyes. “And still got an attitude I see?”
He stops moving Jeonghan’s hips and instead presses them against the wall, Jeonghan’s whole body now glued to the wall behind him. No matter how much squirming he does, his strength is no match for Seungcheol’s, so he’s rendered helpless.
“For fucks sake, just fuck me already,” Jeonghan complains.
“Woah, I feel like I just mentioned the whole attitude thing.”
“If you don’t fuck me right now, you never will. Look at me, Seungcheol. You’d be a fucking idiot to miss your chance, yeah?”
Seungcheol’s eyes widened, a smirk growing on his face right after, seemingly impressed with Jeonghan’s venom.
“You got it, princess.”
Dropping his hands back down to Jeonghan’s waist and once again connecting their lips, Seungcheol clumsily guides the two of them over to the vanity, then swiftly turns Jeonghan and bends him over the table.
Jeonghan’s hands shoot out to stop himself from folding over completely, “What happened to not manhandling your models,” he says over his shoulder.
“Hm, I don’t think I agreed to that,” Seungcheol comes in close, his lips brushing against Jeonghan’s ear, “but if you want me to stop, just tell me.”
The silence is deafening, and Jeonghan hates the way his cheeks flush in embarrassment.
Without much notice, Seungcheol reaches around to undo the buttons of Jeonghan’s shorts and drop them to the floor. His hands wander all over the soft flesh of Jeonghan’s backside, massaging and pulling it apart repeatedly.
Jeonghan goes to kick his heels off but Seungcheol stops him with his own foot.
“Don’t, they’re- I like them on you.”
Pervert.
“Then get on with it already.”
“You’re whining again,” Seungcheol sing-songs, pulling two packets from god knows where in a bag.
“Maybe I wouldn’t be so whiny if you would stop the bullshit and just f- ah! ” Jeonghan chokes on his words when he feels a lubricated finger press against his rim, the tip of it just barely breaching.
“What were you saying?” Jeonghan can hear the amusement lacing his voice and tries to muster up a retort, but just as his mouth opens, Seungcheol slides his finger in deeper, crooking it just right and pulling a vulgar noise from Jeonghan’s throat.
“Shut u-up,” It’s weak, but it’s the best he can do.
“Whatever you want, angel.”
And that’s the last thing he says, then one finger turns to two turns to three, and soon enough Jeonghan’s thighs are quivering, his arms giving out and dropping his torso onto the table. The hand on his lower back is doing barely anything to ground him, just holding him in place while Seungcheol unravels him.
Jeonghan looks to the side to see the condom packet placed next to his head; he grabs it and slaps it against Seungcheol’s abdomen, his way of signaling him to hurry up.
There’s a tear of plastic, and the fingers inside him slowly retreat, living him empty and needy. After a moment, Seungcheol’s hands brace on Jeonghan’s hips, slowly running up and down his sides soothingly while he pushes the blunt tip inside.
Jeonghan gasps when it slips in and rushes to mute himself by stuffing his mouth with his own arm, head down on the counter.
Seungcheol starts slowly, excruciatingly slow, to get him used to the size. Admittedly, it’s been a while, and it’s a little much for him at first. Once he adjusts, he lets Seungcheol know by pushing his hips back, meeting his gentle thrusts.
If it wasn’t enough that he’s exactly Jeonghan’s type on paper, an incredible kisser, and disgustingly good at taking him apart, Seungcheol is also great at taking hints.
He leans down, voice low in Jeonghan’s ear;
“Let’s fix that attitude, yeah?”
There’s a snap of his hips, and Jeonghan is thankful that he muffled himself earlier, biting down on his own arm to try and not let out any of the guttural moans threatening to echo through the room. In any case, it’s sort of pointless, with the noises their skin makes every time Seungcheol’s hips meet the back of Jeonghan’s thighs.
He’s borderline ragdolled at this point, legs turned to jelly, hips only held up by Seungcheol’s hands every time he pulls them back to roughly thrust into him.
“Shit, angel, you take it so good, ” Jeonghan’s eyes squeeze shut at the dirty praise, head still down on the counter, “let me see your pretty face while I fuck you.”
Jeonghan doesn’t budge, too focused on trying to silence himself.
Seungcheol is great at taking hints.
A hand moves underneath where Jeonghan’s face is down, snaking between his arm and his lips. Seungcheol pulls his head back and keeps Jeonghan’s mouth covered with his own hand now.
“Look at yourself, look how pretty you are like this.”
Jeonghan struggles to open his eyes, but gets taken by the sight; his cheeks and exposed neck flushed, the marks on his chest barely peeking out, eyes glossy and lids heavy, eyebrows upturned slightly, and the entire bottom half of his face completely covered by Seungcheol’s big hand. It’s a little narcissistic, but he supposes Seungcheol knows. He does look pretty like this.
Seungcheol pulls him up completely upright now, so their bodies are flush against each other, and wraps an arm around Jeonghan’s lithe waist for support while he breaks him apart.
“You love how you look, don’t you?” Seungcheol’s voice is gruff, the nonstop rhythm starting to affect him too, “You’re a model, you know just how good you look, but you still need me to tell you, huh?”
Jeonghan whines behind Seungcheol’s hand, hoping it says yes, I need it, badly.
“You look fucking perfect, angel. A real princess. No wonder you became a model, you were born to be admired.”
Every word brings him closer and closer to the edge.
“So, so pretty, in my diamonds. Just wanna put you on display so I can look at you all day,” Seungcheol groans in his ear, “Fuck, Jeonghan, I’m-”
His hand moves down to wrap around Jeonghan’s cock, and it only takes a few pumps before his spilling out onto Seungcheol’s hand with a muffled moan, his body jerking and hole tightening as he reaches his climax.
Seungcheol follows soon after, pressing himself as deep inside Jeonghan as he can go, filling the condom.
After a few slow thrusts to bring them both down, Seungcheol stops moving and allows the two of them to finally catch their breath. He presses a kiss to the side of Jeonghan’s neck and carefully lays his upper half back down onto the table. His hands go to massage Jeonghan’s hips while he pulls out, but in doing so leaves a limp Jeonghan’s mouth uncovered, opening in a long and noisy whine.
Seungcheol doesn’t leave his side for long, coming back after cleaning his hands off and tossing the condom.
His hands are back on Jeonghan, rubbing comforting circles on his arms.
His demeanor is completely different now, a little shy even, his voice soft when he speaks, “Hey, you good?”
All Jeonghan can do is give him a lazy smile, “Never been better.”
Seungcheol giggles, almost a complete 180 from the cool-guy show he was putting on previously.
“I hope it wasn’t too much.”
Jeonghan manages to push himself up off the vanity, “I would’ve kicked your ass if you talked all that shit and didn’t fuck my brains out.”
A faint blush dusts Seungcheol’s cheeks, and Jeonghan is very confused by the switch-up, but endeared nonetheless.
Running a hand through his hair, Seungcheol rocks back and forth on his heels while Jeonghan pulls his pants on again and tries to fix himself in the mirror.
“So… can I, um, could I get your number?”
Jeonghan looks at Seungcheol through the mirror while he adjusts his hair, seeing the way the redhead is shifting somewhat awkwardly.
He turns back to face Seungcheol, a teasing smile already on his face, “Are you nervous ?”
Seungcheol stiffens.
“A little bit, yeah?”
The smile turns mischievous. He walks up to Seungcheol, their chests just inches apart, and grabs the lapels of his leather jacket.
“You’re cute.”
The color on Seungcheol’s cheeks shifts closer to matching his hair.
“You too.”
Jeonghan throws his head back when he laughs, then leans in close to whisper in Seungcheol’s ear, “I think we could have a lot of fun together.” He presses a quick peck to Seungcheol's blazing cheek. He goes to make his way back to his own dressing room, but not before leaving his number in Seungcheol’s phone.
✩
There’s a loud buzz followed by incessant knocking on his front door that feels like it’s directly on Jeonghan’s skull. He stretches his arms out under his pillow with a grunt, goes to push himself up off his bed, and collapses instantly upon feeling the ache in his lower back.
He rubs the area above his hips, muttering to himself about how Seungcheol could’ve gone a little easier. Rather, he curses himself for not having enough self-control to not make him go harder.
The banging continues, and Jeonghan fumbles for his phone to check the time to find that he’s about 47 minutes late to his wake-up time. With urgency and little grace, he throws the covers off and stumbles to the door in his boxers and oversized t-shirt to find an incredibly unhappy Junhui waiting for him on the other side.
“You’re supposed to be ready about twenty minutes ago,” Junhui scolds.
Jeonghan frantically apologizes, promises to rush and gather his things within five minutes, and books it out the door to the car as soon as he’s done. When he’s sitting in the passenger seat, wildly out of breath, the chastisement begins.
“So what was it this time? Forgot to set the alarm? Slept through it? Stayed out partying? You don’t do that, so what is it?”
Jeonghan sighs, knowing the scolding he would get for sleeping with “the talent” would be much worse than just being a little late to a shoot. He fumbles for an excuse, “I don’t know, I guess I was just exhausted from the shoot yesterday.”
Junhui’s voice softens the slightest bit, “What, was the guy hard to work with?”
“Uh,” Jeonghan looks out the window to avoid Junhui even catching a glimpse of his face in his peripheral, “in a way. Just a little… rough.”
“Ah, seems like the big macho type. Didn’t bang you up too much, though?”
Jeonghan coughs.
“No, no, not- not too much.”
A phantom hand ghosts over Jeonghan’s hip and he feels the dull ache in his lower back throb.
Once they arrive, Jeonghan is, like usual, rushed into a room to get his makeup and hair done. It’s only when he’s sitting in the chair facing his reflection that he’s reminded of the marks decorating his chest and collarbone.
Shit.
Jeonghan grimaces at himself. This wasn’t something he did. Never had he shown up to a shoot in less than a presentable state. Not only was he tardy, but he had arrived looking nothing short of ravaged. Seriously, Jeonghan does not remember being mauled like this.
It only gets worse when the makeup artist walks in and gasps at what she sees. Jeonghan drops his head in his hands to hide the embarrassment crawling up his neck.
“No, no, it’s okay!” She tries, “Easy coverup, don’t worry about it!”
She works on his face first, beautifies him in an intricate way to match the theme of the shoot, then moves down to his neck. He tries to ignore the way her face twists occasionally at some of the worse ones.
In the end, she does a nearly impeccable job at ensuring that everyone would be none the wiser of his escapades the day before, assuring him that any unevenness would be fully covered in post.
When she leaves him to change, in a fit of sudden annoyance and a bit of a nagging need to contact Seungcheol, Jeonghan pulls out his phone and quickly shoots a text:
seungcheol
i have a shoot today. could’ve gone a little easier on the marking.
A couple minutes drag by before he hears his phone chime.
seungcheol
Really? I don’t remember hearing you tell me that. I do remember hearing a lot of “Oh, Seungcheol, don’t stop!!!”
I could be wrong though.
fuck u
I think “fuck me” is the term you’re looking for? Unless something changed over night.
If only there was a way for Jeonghan to slap Seungcheol silly through the screen. A damn shame technology hasn’t advanced in that direction quite yet.
seungcheol
yeah it did. i regret it now
Hm.
Well next time I’ll make sure you don’t then.
Something warm churns in Jeonghan’s lower belly. He pockets his phone in his bag promptly. Time and place and all that.
✩
“You’re everywhere now,” Seungkwan says, shoving another cracker with cheese in his mouth, “I mean, you were before, ahem, but I can’t escape the music video clips.”
Jeonghan tsks, “Don’t talk and eat the char-coochie, you’re gonna choke.”
“Stop fucking calling it that.”
Jeonghan waves him off and takes another swig of the red wine in his glass, swishing it around a little haphazardly. “What can I say, people like hot people together.”
Seungkwan’s eyebrows shoot up, his interest piqued. “Oh? So you think he’s hot?”
“Ugh, obviously, are you joking? Look at him! You know he’s just my type.” There’s a bit of a whine to his voice, and Seungkwan clocks it right away.
“You wanna get in his pants so bad.”
“Pfft… yeah.”
A horrified gasp rips from Seungkwan’s lungs, “Oh my god, you slut, you already fucked him didn’t you!”
“Wha- I didn’t say-” Jeonghan stammers.
“Oh my god, oh my god! You so totally did! You’re a slut, Jeonghan!”
“ Fuck, okay, I did! So what!”
“No shot you did it right after the music video, right?”
Jeonghan winces.
“Oh my god, you’re joking! In the dressing room?”
Jeonghan fully grimaces this time and covers his face with his hands. Seungkwan screams.
“Well… how was it?”
And this time, Jeonghan groans and runs his hands down his face.
“So good, Kwannie, so fucking good.”
Seungkwan smacks his shoulder playfully, “You minx, you should’ve told me all about it! Was it just the one time?”
“Unfortunately,” Jeonghan sighs wistfully, flashbacks relaying in his head. So pretty, angel. He shakes the thought away.
“Did you get his number?”
“Yeah, but-”
Without missing a beat, Seungkwan leaps up off the little plush seat at the coffee table. He checks the time and makes a noise of triumph, and Jeonghan knows this is bad news for him.
“It’s only 9:47. Tell him to come over. You had a whole charcuterie and wine night planned with your friend, but he bailed, and now you’re all alone on a Friday night!” His arms flail and he swoons theatrically, “Oh, Seungcheol, won’t you come over and keep my lonely ass company?”
“Yeah, there’s no way in hell he’s free tonight, but I love your optimism.” He doesn’t really.
“Have you tried?” Seungkwan’s hands are on his hips in a way that tells Jeonghan he’s not getting out of this, not when they both have just enough wine in their system.
Jeonghan huffs, “No, but, I don’t know about this. What if he doesn’t like char-cooter?”
“Well, he likes your cooter. Plus, you don’t have a choice, I’m leaving. Night, Hannie!”
Scrambling to his feet, he tries to catch Seungkwan on his way out, but, fuck, he’s too nimble. All that damn badminton.
With a dramatic, elongated sigh, Jeonghan leans his head against the door, but pulls his phone out of his pocket anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to try, at the very least.
seungcheol
hi
sorry to bug u, but r u free tonight by any chance?
The sixteen minutes that it takes for Seungcheol to respond are filled with a lot of pacing and a couple too many swigs of wine.
seungcheol
I am. Why do you ask?
my friend and i had a charcuterie and wine night planned but he bailed
so now im having assorted cheeses and cured meats and red wine by myself
That honestly sounds lovely. Send me your address.
Sent: Current Location
In the time it takes for Seungcheol to drive over, Jeonghan spends way too much time trying to make himself look presentable but comfortable, sort of in a-I Just Look Like This All The Time But Also Really Hot And Put Together-way. He changes into an oversized t-shirt, one that has an excessively stretched loose collar and shows off his decolletage, and a pair of sweatpants that are closer to yoga pants. He gives his flat ass a good smack in the mirror and winks at himself. There might not be much there, but dammit, it makes the boys go crazy anyway.
When he hears the buzz of his doorbell, he waits just enough time to pretend like he wasn’t waiting at the door. He internally kicks himself for not remembering to at least fake the footsteps to the door. Rookie mistake.
He opens the door to a slightly windswept Seungcheol, his long red hair mussed from the gust. He’s not dressed up any different than Jeonghan, just grey sweats, a white t-shirt, and a denim jacket, but somehow it still has Jeonghan’s heart stuttering, his words caught in his mouth.
“Can I come in?”
Jeonghan snaps out of it and lets him in, points him in the direction of the living room where Seungkwan and him had been hanging out.
“Woah, looks cozy,” Seungcheol’s eyes wander around the living room, admiring the setup they had put together. It was just some electric candles and warm lamp lighting and a fake fireplace on the TV.
“Ah, it’s nothing, we just like to have a night to catch up and destress.”
Seungcheol turns back to him, a barely noticeable furrow in his brows, “You’re stressed?”
Jeonghan shifts on his feet. It must be the wine; Merlot always goes straight to his dick. Suddenly, the room feels a couple degrees hotter with Seungcheol’s eyes on him, with him here at all, really.
“Um, the normal amount for a celebrity, I guess.” Seungcheol nods in understanding.
Maybe the air conditioning wasn’t low enough for the June heat, maybe it wasn’t just Jeonghan feeling it. That must be why Seungcheol removes his jacket to reveal what is actually a sleeveless shirt, not a tee. Jeonghan gulps at the sight of his arms, heat already swirling in his lower abdomen. Vivid memories of those strong arms gripping his waist hit him like a flashbang. Seungcheol turns around to toss the jacket across the back of a chair and- holy shit, is that a tattoo?
Jeonghan catches a glimpse when Seungcheol’s shirt dips down as he leans over a bit, the collar coming down past the top of his spine. It’s a bit of a blur, but Jeonghan thinks he can make out a tree right in the center with some writing next to it.
His mouth goes dry. He must’ve had a little more wine than he thought. That’s the only reasonable explanation for what he does next.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jeonghan practically leaps forward, throwing himself on Seungcheol and smashing their lips together, his arms coming to sling around Seungcheol’s neck, who makes a noise of surprise, but doesn’t waste a second returning what Jeonghan is giving him.
It’s just as good as the first time. Better even, and Jeonghan is already growing weak in the knees.
After sufficiently covering every inch of Jeonghan’s mouth with his own tongue, Seungcheol pulls away; not too far, and his hands are still holding on to Jeonghan’s hips.
“So, the charcuterie board? Why didn’t you just tell me this was what you needed? I would’ve said yes,” Seungcheol says, a little too smug.
“Shut the fuck up about the char-coochie board and fuck me.”
“The wh- you got it, princess.”
Their lips are drawn together like magnets. Jeonghan blindly guides them in the direction of his bedroom, thankful that he always keeps his door wide open.
He pulls away for a second, kissed breathless, “You, are you gonna put these muscles to good use?”
Seungcheol looks confused for a moment before it clicks in his head. Wordlessly, he hooks his hands around Jeonghan’s thighs and lifts him like he weighs nothing, and Jeonghan has to bite back a moan.
“You want me to fuck you like this sometime?” Seungcheol says against his lips. Jeonghan nods furiously.
It’s annoyingly and deliciously reminiscent of their previous encounter, when Jeonghan is already falling apart by the time he’s laid on his back, Seungcheol three fingers deep in him. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his already glowy skin, and Seungcheol spares no modesty in praising him.
“You look so beautiful like this, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol whispers into his swollen, bitten lips, “a real life angel, baby.”
Jeonghan can’t help the way he preens at the compliment, the praise going straight to his already aching cock and inflating his ego. But Jeonghan is greedy; all the attention in the world is not enough for him. No matter how humble he might act in front of a camera or an audience, he’s always craving more.
“T-tell me again,” Jeonghan pants.
He so badly wants to hate the smirk that grows on Seungcheol’s face, wants to resent him for feeling pride in making Jeonghan act this way when it’s all on Jeonghan’s own insatiable ego. But when his fingers crook just right, the snarky remark dies in his throat, replaced by a choked out gasp, his eyes slamming shut.
“You’re gorgeous, the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” His voice grows distant, his presence retreating from hovering so close above Jeonghan, who blinks his eyes open to see Seungcheol’s face settled between Jeonghan’s pale thighs.
“Can I show you just how pretty I think you are?”
Jeonghan jerks his head in what he hopes is a clear nod, but it’s not enough.
“C’mon, baby, you need to use your words.”
What an asshole. “Yes, please, ” Jeonghan whines. What’s even worse, the demand for explicit consent only serves to worsen the vicious heat swirling in his lower belly.
As soon as the words come out, Seungcheol’s mouth is on him, swallowing him down completely and pulling a guttural moan out of him. It’s not messy or overwhelming on its own, but the way his mouth works in tandem with his fingers makes Jeonghan feel like his soul is splitting from his body.
His hand only leaves the sheets to grab Seungcheol’s bright red hair instead, gripping for dear life at the roots. It comes in repetitive waves, a jolt of pleasure every time Seungcheol sucks and curls his fingers in deep. All Jeonghan can do is hold on and try to control his volume.
At a particularly deep bob of Seungcheol’s head, Jeonghan feels his orgasm slam into him unexpectedly, his legs shaking and thighs closing in on Seungcheol’s head reflexively, who swallows his release without so much as batting an eye. He lets Jeonghan ride it out, his free hand coming to spread his thighs wide open again.
When it gets too much, Jeonghan lets out breathy, high-pitched whines, letting Seungcheol know he can’t take anymore. He feels empty when the fingers leave him, Seungcheol pulling his mouth off as well, instead moving to leave featherlight kisses all over the inside of Jeonghan’s thighs.
Between each press of his lips, he leaves another praise in its wake, so pretty, so perfect, sound so good for me, and Jeonghan’s head is reeling. He lets out a yelp when Seungcheol sinks his teeth into the tender flesh, covered quickly with another peck.
Seungcheol leaves one last kiss and sits up, kneeling between Jeonghan’s legs, holding them apart at the crook under his knees. “I told you, right? This time I would make sure you wouldn’t regret it?”
Cocky bastard. Jeonghan doesn’t bother lifting his head off the pillow, not exactly eager to see the smirk on Seungcheol’s face at the moment. He hears a wrapper of what has to be a condom tear, a shuffle, and the click of the lube cap once, twice.
Seungcheol grips the back of Jeonghan’s thighs and presses them up into his own body, folding him in half entirely.
Jeonghan’s eyes shoot open at the unexpected maneuver, “Huh-”
Any thoughts, anything Jeonghan would’ve said, is promptly dissipated into thin air, leaving behind a long, drawn-out moan when Seungcheol slides in. In this position, Jeonghan can feel every inch of thickness, the air knocked out of his lungs when Seungcheol bottoms out.
Trying to find stability in the hands on the back of his thighs, Jeonghan reaches up to grip Seungcheol’s shoulders and tries not to focus on the muscle he feels rippling under his fingertips.
“Did you get bigger since the last time or something?” Jeonghan complains.
Seungcheol freezes, his brows knit together in concern, “Does it hurt? Am I hurting you?”
The roll of Jeonghan’s eyes doesn’t match the way his heart skips a beat, “God, no, Seungcheol, I’m good. And I can handle a little pain.”
“Yeah, but I can’t handle hurting you,” Seungcheol is pouting, his lips puffed out cutely.
“You’re seriously pouting while you’re balls deep in me?”
“…Yeah?”
Jeonghan kicks Seungcheol’s backside with his heel, “Just fuck me, Jesus.”
Seungcheol grabs a hold of Jeonghan’s thigh, gripping tighter this time to push it back into place, and he’s still not moving.
“Ask nicely.”
“Will you just fuck me already?” Jeonghan huffs.
“ Nicely, baby.”
It was dizzying, the way Seungcheol seemed to inflate his ego and stamp down his pride at the same time. But two can play this game.
“Please, please, fuck me so good, Cheollie, I need it so bad, need you so bad,” Jeonghan says, putting on his best show of gripping the sheets and pleading eyes.
A flush creeps up Seungcheol’s bare chest, contrasting with the glimmering gold necklace hanging from his neck.
“Yeah, yeah you got it, angel.”
The first deep roll of his hips is nothing short of heavenly. He keeps a steady rhythm, and the way he reaches an almost untouched spot inside Jeonghan nearly suffocates him.
Jeonghan can barely keep his eyes open, fluttering shut with every thrust. Even the breathy moans he lets out are foreign to his own ears, Seungcheol bringing out a new sound in him.
He lets himself enjoy it for a moment before he throws all caution to the wind.
“I said,” Jeonghan pants, annoyed that he sounds so affected, his words losing meaning, “fuck me good. ”
Seungcheol slows to a complete stop, leaving only the tip of his cock resting inside Jeonghan’s hole.
Jeonghan looks into his eyes to see a sort of fierce determination in them, like he wants to make sure this is nothing short of unforgettable for Jeonghan. His nose twitches, jaw tightens, and he reaches over to grab a pillow and slide it under Jeonghan’s lower back. He puts Jeonghan’s knees together, holding the underneath of both with one hand, the other coming to grip the dip between his hip and thigh.
Seungcheol pushes forward the slightest bit, leaning over Jeonghan’s legs and nearly lifting his bottom up off the bed.
“Guess that attitude’s not going anywhere, huh?”
The smirk is wiped clean off Jeonghan’s face almost instantly when Seungcheol snaps his hips. It’s not much different than before; there’s only a slight increase in force behind his thrusts, but the position has Seungcheol punching out moans with each movement, pulling Jeonghan’s hips to meet his own.
Jeonghan’s knuckles turn white in the sheets, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head, jaw hung open and unable to stop the stream of curses and moans and fuck me, oh God, please Seungcheol, so good!
He doesn’t even have to look to see the winning smile on Seungcheol’s face.
“Fuck, Jeonghan, my cock was made to make you feel good, made to give you what you deserve for being so beautiful, yeah? Deserve to be fucked so good, every day, so perfect like this.”
That’s what drives Jeonghan crazy, what’s throwing him so off-course; Seungcheol doesn’t pride himself on just being a good lay, his ego rides entirely off of making Jeonghan feel good.
It’s not that Jeonghan only messes around with fuckboys and players, he’s had boyfriends and hookups that were caring, but there was something different in the way Seungcheol got a real kick out of unraveling Jeonghan. It was as though Jeonghan had finally met his match.
He had a tendency to be high-maintenance, to crush these dudes’ self-importance beneath his heel, to steamroll someone who couldn’t handle him. But Seungcheol had leveled with him, eye-to-eye, ego-to-ego, and it was making Jeonghan’s head spin even when they weren’t together.
“Seungcheol, I’m- fuck, please, c-close,” Jeonghan whines.
Seungcheol hums and moves his hand from Jeonghan’s hips to his cock, but rather than stroking to finish him off, he just grips the base tightly.
“You can hold on a little longer for me, right baby?” Seungcheol’s voice is low and coaxing, and Jeonghan wants to say no, that he needs it now, but he just nods vigorously instead.
Seungcheol clicks his tongue, “Aht, c’mon angel, what’d I say about using your words?”
“ Yes! I can! I can!”
He doesn’t know how long Seungcheol keeps him in this sort of stasis, hanging off the edge and somehow multiplying his pleasure. Time stretches, his brain has turned entirely to mush, and he can barely even think straight when Seungcheol finally releases the grasp on his cock, moving up and down his shaft.
Judging by the groans he’s letting out, Seungcheol isn’t too far behind when Jeonghan’s orgasm crashes down on him, locking him in place and making his legs shake uncontrollably, releasing all over his stomach and Seungcheol’s hand.
“Look so fucking good when you cum, too bad everyone can’t see you like this, only me,” Seungcheol rasps, and a flush takes over Jeonghan at the praise, bordering into overstimulation while Seungcheol reaches his own climax.
The sex-drunk voice in Jeonghan's head wishes the condom wasn’t there.
Seungcheol doesn’t pull out yet, instead lets Jeonghan’s legs down gently and leans in to press light kisses all over Jeonghan’s face. His nose, his cheeks, his eyes, and pushes the hair off his damp forehead to leave one on top and on each temple.
After a moment of letting them cool off, Seungcheol places one last kiss on Jeonghan's lips.
“I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”
Jeonghan only nods, no energy to speak, and Seungcheol slowly retreats from his hole, making him mewl at the oversensitivity. He watches Seungcheol climb off the bed and walk to the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth.
He climbs back on and starts at Jeonghan’s face, gently swiping away the sweat, the cool wetness bringing Jeonghan back down. He moves down to his neck, chest, his marked-up thighs, and finally wipes the cum off his stomach.
He’ll blame it on the little wine in his system, the way he pulls Seungcheol down to the bed to lay next to him.
He feels the deep reverb of his chuckle when he lays his head on Seungcheol’s chest, a hand coming up to play with his hair.
“You want me to stay?” Seungcheol’s voice is quiet, like he’s treading carefully in new territory.
Jeonghan doesn’t answer, but he hopes the leg he slits between Seungcheol’s is enough of an answer.
“Okay,” he whispers into Jeonghan’s hair, “I’ll stay.”
When Jeonghan wakes up, the sun is high in the sky already, shining blindingly through his curtains. He blinks a couple times, but closes his eyes again and hums, turning over to sling an arm over Seungcheol’s chest.
Only, his arm lands clumsily on his cool sheets.
His eyes shoot open to see an empty spot on the bed next to him.
The disappointment swells in his chest, overtaking his throat and filling it with thorns. He tries to swallow it down, but to no avail.
How convenient.
In reality, Jeonghan should’ve known better. None of the artists he’s messed with ever stick around, and surely not any of the guys with their own mighty self-image. He had just hoped, maybe a little too much, that Seungcheol would be different.
He tries to check his phone for a text. Nothing. The bedside table for a note. Nothing. The pillow, under the covers, his dresser, even his bedroom door. Not a trace Seungcheol was ever here.
Jeonghan sighs, wishing it didn’t affect him so much, and hating that it hurts.
But there’s nothing he could do. If that’s what Seungcheol wants, that’s what he can have. But next time, it won’t be from Jeonghan.
He pulls on a t-shirt and some old boxers and slides his feet into his bunny slippers, no choice but to go about his day.
When he steps into the kitchen, he freezes.
On the island counter sits a massive plastic bag of takeout, at least six different containers inside. Next to it, a bright pink post-it note with scribbled handwriting in pen.
Jeonghan rushes to tear it off the counter and read it, clutching it like a lifeline:
Sorry I had to leave. Completely forgot I had a schedule this morning. Manager is going to kill me.
Left you some breakfast. Eat well, I need more meat to grab.
Text me when you’re up. Call me again whenever.
S.C.
Jeonghan buries his face in the note, a smile creeping across his face helplessly. He lives alone, so he’s allowed to squeal and spin around like a ballerina in a music box. Before he forgets, he stops himself and runs to grab his phone.
seungcheol
thank you for the food. and the note. and last night.
i don’t know how im gonna eat this all
Seungcheol’s reply comes some time later while Jeonghan is eating and watching the recent episode of his favorite reality TV show.
seungcheol
It’s the least I could do. I should be the one thanking you.
And you have to eat it. I told you. I know they like to keep you models all twiggy, but I still need something to hold on to.
Jeonghan shuts his phone and covers his blushing face with his hands, hiding from exactly no one.
He’s fucked.
✩
It’s only been a week.
Just seven days since the last time Jeonghan had met with Seungcheol and got the life fucked out of him.
And Jeonghan feels like he’s going crazy.
It’s starting to agitate his friends, too.
“Hello, earth to Jeonghan?” Seungkwan snaps in his face.
Jeonghan swats his hand away, “Don’t snap at me.”
“Don’t wander off in your head when we are having lunch!”
He’s right, annoying as it is, and Jeonghan really does value mid-afternoon gossip with Jisoo and Seungkwan over anything. Most things.
Jisoo is a little gentler when he asks, “What’s on your mind, Hannie?”
So perfect, angel.
So pretty like this.
Deserve to be fucked so good.
“Uh, you know, just like- work, I guess,” Jeonghan mumbles.
Seungkwan deadpans, sniffing out the bullshit right away. Jeonghan doesn’t even really know why he tried.
“Hannie, c’mon, you’re never this shy, what’s going on?” Jisoo even sounds a bit concerned now. It’s true; Jeonghan was always loud about his sexcapades with his best friends.
He’s not really sure what’s different this time.
Seungkwan gasps, “Is it that rapper again?”
Jisoo’s eyes widened, “Coups?”
Jeonghan covers his face with his hands, but nods.
“Did he come over last Friday night?”
“Did you dance on tabletops?” Jisoo whispers. Seungkwan backhands him and quickly turns his attention back to Jeonghan.
“C’mon, tell us!” Seungkwan urges.
“Guys…” Jeonghan starts, dropping his hands to the table, “it’s the worst combination.”
Jisoo clutches his invisible pearls, Seungkwan reaches over and grabs Jeonghan’s hand.
“He’s such a gentleman,” Jeonghan inhales sharply, before finishing his sentence in one quick breath, “and he fucks me like a slut.”
Seungkwan’s jaw drops and Jisoo claps his hand over his mouth.
Jeonghan whines, “You guys, I’m so screwed! He railed me within an inch of my life, and when he had to leave in the morning he ordered me basically three whole meals for breakfast. And even left a note telling me to text him when I woke up!”
“Oh, Hannie…” Jisoo coos, sympathy lacing his voice.
“How’d he do it? Like, what position?” Seungkwan asks, very seriously. This does change things; the details are important.
“Christ, he put me in a position I’ve never been in,” Jeonghan pushes his chair out and turns so he can recreate the position, folding in on himself and putting his knees together. “He had me like this and was lifting my hips and shit, I don’t even know, I basically fucking blacked out!”
“What is he, some kind of sex god?” Jisoo asks, a little bit horrified.
“Fuck if I know! I swear to god I thought I saw my childhood hamster at one point.”
Seungkwan makes a face, “You thought about your dead hamster during sex?”
“Bitch, I thought I was about to join my dead hamster. ”
Jisoo chokes on his coffee.
“Okay, well, this is good! He’s perfect for you!”
“Ugh, that’s exactly the problem, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan huffs, “he’s perfect and sexy and I can’t stop thinking about him and all I want to do is text him to come over and bend me over.”
Seungkwan and Jisoo exchange glances.
“So… just do that. He’s clearly very willing,” Seungkwan states, as if it’s obvious. It is obvious, but what the hell is his deal?
Jeonghan plays with the straw of his iced coffee absentmindedly, “I guess so.”
Jisoo smacks Jeonghan’s arm playfully, “C’mon, Hannie, don’t forget you’re irresistible. I’m sure he can’t stop thinking about you either, bet he’s waiting by his phone for you to text again.”
Irresistible. Hm, Jeonghan supposes he’s not wrong. “Well, I am seeing him this afternoon. We’re doing a cover shoot together, guess everyone liked our chemistry in his music video.”
“Are you kidding?” Seungkwan asks incredulously, “Liked is an understatement. People were creaming their jeans just watching you guys on each other.”
Jeonghan’s nose crinkles, “Crude way to put it, but yeah, sure.”
“So, what I’m hearing is you’re getting it tonight?” Jisoo wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
He really wishes he had a different answer. Maybe something more eloquent, something less vulgar.
“I better. I will literally bust it open on camera for him, I don’t give a fuck.”
They get a couple nasty looks from neighboring patrons of the cafe when they leave.
✩
As soon as he throws himself down in the passenger seat of the SUV, Junhui’s eyes are laser focused on Jeonghan.
“You’re being weird.”
Jeonghan makes a face of offense, “Excuse me?”
Junhui’s eyes narrow, “You’re all giddy, it’s weird. Stop it. You’re freaking me out.”
“I’m- what the hell, I’m not doing anything?”
“I can feel your excited energy. Not that you don’t ever get excited for shoots, but it’s all freaky this time.”
The silence stretches on, Jeonghan not having a clue on how to respond.
“You’re fucking the guy, aren’t you?” Junhui says, his tone casual.
“I’m sorry? What- how did you-” Jeonghan flounders.
Junhui just waves him off and starts to drive to their shooting location. “Jeonghan, please, I was your best friend before I was your manager. I know you.”
Jeonghan slouches in his seat, cheeks flushed, trying to hide himself. “I thought you would get mad.”
“Hannie,” Junhui sighs, stealing a quick glance to the side at Jeonghan next to him, “as your manager, of course I think it’s a bad idea.”
The light scolding makes Jeonghan shrink further into himself.
“But as your friend, what am I supposed to say about you fucking a guy that looks like that with a big dick? Stop? Hell no. Plus, look at his hair–no way he’s balding at thirty-five, you better lock that down.”
Jeonghan’s eyebrows shoot up, turning to Junhui with new hope swelling in his chest, alongside a strangely sentimental feeling that comes with a supportive friend.
“How did you know he’s big?”
“Tch, look at him.”
There’s really no arguing that.
They ride in comfortable silence, humming along to some songs Jeonghan plays from his phone. As sickeningly cheesy as it is, even though Junhui is his usual bearer of bad news, he’s grateful it’s him, grateful that his friend came along this crazy journey of fame, grateful that nothing has changed between them. Most of all, he’s grateful that Junhui will always back him chasing his own happiness, even if it is in the form of a jacked, hung redhead.
When they arrive on set, it’s almost like a bustling city of its own in the building. Assistants and directors and managers walking briskly between one another, the constant flow of communication. It’s become a sort of comforting white noise to Jeonghan, the feeling that he’s entered his domain coming over him.
Some makeup artists shepherd him into his seat, and he’s thanking his lucky stars that there are no marks to cover this time. He does miss seeing them a bit, though.
Whore, he mentally scolds himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror.
He braces himself when he’s led to a dressing room, hoping he’ll have a little more dignity in his outfit for today’s shoot. A breath he didn’t know he was holding escapes when he’s presented with something classy, just a blouse and slacks. The heels still make an appearance, which makes him snort.
Seungcheol is in something similar, so Jeonghan has to rein his thoughts in before he quite literally jumps the other man’s bones in front of everybody.
“You look nice,” Seungcheol comments when they come face-to-face, and Jeonghan twirls in response, “your legs are covered this time.”
Jeonghan jumps at the opportunity to mess with him, “Oh, so you think I should cover up? Are you slut-shaming me or calling my legs ugly?”
Panic settles on Seungcheol’s face, and he rushes to clarify, “Huh? No, no, you’re definitely not a slut, I respect you and your sexual freedom, and I really, really love your legs, so for sure not that either, honestly if you never covered them again I would be pretty happy.” His mouth clamps shut after his ramble and morphs into a pout when Jeonghan bursts out laughing. “Don’t laugh at me!”
Cute. Jeonghan brings a hand up to toy with the unbuttoned collar of Seungcheol’s shirt. “You really love my legs, huh? Think they’re pretty?”
A visible flush creeps up Seungcheol’s exposed chest and he mumbles, “I mean, obviously.”
Leaning in close, Jeonghan lets his lips brush Seungcheol’s ear when he whispers:
“I think they’ll look real pretty wrapped around your waist after this.”
With that, he walks away, brushing a hand along Seungcheol’s side as he retreats. He spares a glance back over his shoulder, coy and teasing, and sees Seungcheol with his hands locked behind his neck, head to the sky and eyes closed.
He has to cover his own stupid smile with his hand, lest someone see him grinning at nothing and think he’s batshit insane.
They make it about one, single foot into Seungcheol’s penthouse before devouring each other, Jeonghan pulling at Seungcheol’s sweatshirt wildly.
With practiced dexterity, Seungcheol locks the door behind him and presses Jeonghan up against the wall, who squeaks at the rough contact.
The ugly, selfish part of Jeonghan feels a pang of jealousy at how smooth Seungcheol is with his movements. How many people has he put in this position?
The shameless, bratty part of Jeonghan says it out loud.
“Who else have you had like this?” He says between kisses. “You seem to be good at this.”
Seungcheol pulls away slowly, their noses still nearly brushing, moving his hands from Jeonghan’s sides to lean against the wall on either side of his head.
“And you seem to be good at running your mouth,” his deep voice licks the flames in Jeonghan’s lower belly.
“Not the only thing I can do with my mouth,” Jeonghan breathes out.
Seungcheol huffs out a weak laugh, “You are going to be the death of me, Jeonghan.”
“Please don’t die before I get your dick in my mouth.”
Sliding his hands underneath Jeonghan’s thighs, Seungcheol lifts Jeonghan with little effort, eliciting a yelp from Jeonghan as he’s carried to the bedroom.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”
When Seungcheol sits on the edge of the bed, Jeonghan lets his performance begin. With practiced grace that he’s learned from working runways and seducing cameras, he sinks to his knees slowly, spreading Seungcheol’s legs on his way down and settling between them.
He takes his time running his delicate hands up Seungcheol’s thick thighs until he reaches the waistband of his sweatpants, toying with it a bit before tugging on them, signaling Seungcheol to lift himself off the bed to remove them.
It’s not the first time Jeonghan has seen Seungcheol’s legs, not in person and definitely not online either, but sitting with them right in front of his face is a whole other feeling. He traces his hands up and down the expanse of flesh, gripping the muscle every so often, and even bringing his mouth to the inside to sink his teeth in. Seungcheol lets out a sort of breathy moan, a new sound that Jeonghan decides he needs to do everything in his power to hear more of.
He slides his hands teasingly under the legs of Seungcheol’s boxers, letting his nails scrape lightly on his skin and watching the way the other man twitches under his touch.
“Jeonghan, quit teasing.”
“Oh?” Jeonghan looks up at Seungcheol, amusement in his eyes, “Who’s whining now?”
Seungcheol reaches a hand into Jeonghan’s hair, gently combing through the locks before gripping the roots and tugging lightly. “You really are good at running your mouth.”
Recovering from the dizzying pleasure of Seungcheol’s move, Jeonghan glares as harshly as he can.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be shutting me up.”
Seungcheol hums in disagreement, “I don’t think so, baby. I don’t make you do anything, you’re the one who listens,” he brings Jeonghan’s head close to his clothed cock, leaning back on his free hand and looking down, “because you love the way I tell you you’re being so good for me.”
It should be embarrassing, the way Jeonghan’s jaw drops just enough to mouth at Seungcheol’s dick through his boxers.
“Just like that, so perfect for me.”
But for some reason, it’s not. Not at all, not with Seungcheol.
Jeonghan grows impatient too quickly and rushes to free Seungcheol’s cock and swallow it down. He knows to not go all the way down right away, but his logic and reason is skewing, so his lips are touching the base almost immediately.
“ F-fuck, Jeonghan, baby, easy.”
But Jeonghan doesn’t care for easy, that’s not what he likes. Seungcheol wants him to shut up? He’d better have a damn good reason.
Without losing his pace of bobbing his head, he reaches to grab Seungcheol’s hand on the bed and brings it to his hair.
“Never enough for you, is it?”
Jeonghan looks up at Seungcheol through his lashes, eyes crinkling in a smile that doesn’t reach his occupied mouth.
Seungcheol completes it for him, readjusting his grip and pulling Jeonghan’s head lower, cock reaching deeper to the back of his throat.
The praises flow in Seungcheol’s deep voice, swirling in Jeonghan’s head while his throat is stuffed full over and over again. So good, so pretty, so perfect. Tears start brimming, and Jeonghan selfishly reaches a hand down to touch himself while Seungcheol fucks his mouth. Look so beautiful like this. Doing so good. My angel.
My Hannie.
Jeonghan whines around Seungcheol’s cock while he spills over his hand and thighs, legs spasming and throat subconsciously tightening.
Seungcheol’s eyes flutter shut, groaning at the feeling, “Fuck, baby, did that make you come? You like it when I call you mine?”
All Jeonghan can do is hum weakly. Seungcheol pulls out, leaving him panting. He can’t see himself, but he knows he looks ruined, cheeks flushed and ruddy, eyes watery, lips swollen and wet.
“My face, want it on me,” Jeonghan’s voice is wrecked, fumbling his words, but Seungcheol is great at taking hints.
It’s not long before Seungcheol’s face is screwed up in pleasure, painting Jeonghan’s face in his release.
“Holy shit, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol slides his thumb across Jeonghan’s cheek, bringing some of his come with it when he slips it into Jeonghan’s mouth, “You have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now.”
It’s his words, not his actions that make Jeonghan blush. He’s been called every word for beautiful in the dictionary, but something about Seungcheol sounding like he’s losing control in the way he calls him sexy sets his cheeks aflame.
Jeonghan lifts himself off the ground, legs weak and shaky, and drops on Seungcheol’s lap.
In a somewhat gross display, Seungcheol removes his own shirt to wipe Jeonghan’s face clean and tosses it across the room. Just like the last time, he starts pressing kisses over every inch of Jeonghan’s face, pulling him in for a deep kiss on his lips when he’s done.
When they separate, Jeonghan runs his fingers through his hair, trying to tame the mess a bit.
“Think you can go another round?”
The smirk on Seungcheol’s face is enough of an answer.
Jeonghan wakes to the sunlight peeking through the blinds, blinds that are not his. He startles for a second before remembering where he is, then turns over to throw his arm over Seungcheol’s chest. He’s there this time, and something warms in Jeonghan.
The moment doesn’t last long, though, interrupted by an aggressive snore, something like a motor starting.
Jeonghan stifles his laugh, not wanting to wake Seungcheol. Not that it would really matter, considering how heavily he seems to be sleeping.
It’s strange; Jeonghan wants to be annoyed. Instead, he finds comfort in the consistency of the vibrations he feels on Seungcheol’s bare chest.
That is, until he wakes himself by choking.
His eyes are groggy, barely opened when he turns to see Jeonghan’s head on his shoulder, but a lazy smile appears on his face anyway.
“Do you have sleep apnea?” Jeonghan whispers.
Seungcheol mumbles, “Isn’t that what women get at the gyno?”
“Boy, that is a pap smear.”
Seungcheol groans and rolls himself over Jeonghan, who squeals from underneath the hulk of a man on top of him.
“Get off, you’re gonna crush me!” He smacks Seungcheol’s back until he finally readjusts, laying his head on Jeonghan’s chest, hands coming to wrap around his torso.
Jeonghan can only hope Seungcheol can’t feel the way his heart stutters in his ribcage.
Without thinking, his hand comes up to trace over Seungcheol’s tattoo, his touch gentle. He tries not to think too much about the implications of it, of anything. The way Seungcheol talks to him, touches him, buys him food. He’s just a gentleman, it’s just not something Jeonghan is used to. There’s not much else to it.
They've only met three times, and Jeonghan feels like a fool; tripping over his feet in his own head, tracing figures on his hookup’s tattoo. There has to be some unspoken rule against that.
“Do you like it?”
Jeonghan’s hand stutters in its movements, “Like what?”
“Tattoo.”
The tree sits right at the top of his spine, centered and stable. There must be significance, something meaningful behind it, but Jeonghan doesn’t ask. He can play the fool in his head, but he’ll do his best to keep it to a minimum outside of that.
“It suits you.”
Seungcheol lifts his head to look at Jeonghan, his hair a mess, eyes still low and bleary, morning voice rugged. “So you know me so well now, huh?”
“I’d like to.”
Jeonghan’s breath hitches as soon as the words leave his mouth, instant regret flooding his body.
It’s quickly quelled by the big smile Seungcheol gives him, dimples coming out on both sides.
“Why don’t we start with me making you breakfast?”
“We haven’t started yet?” Jeonghan teases.
Lifting himself up off the bed, Seungcheol places a light kiss on Jeonghan’s forehead, all too tender. “You have no idea, baby.”
Fuck my life.
This is how Jeonghan ends up sitting on Seungcheol’s counter in his clothes, large t-shirt and boxers hanging off his own thin frame, legs swinging back and forth.
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
Seungcheol looks up at Jeonghan, something new twinkling in his big eyes, “This is us getting started.”
“You know,” Jeonghan bites his lip before continuing, Seungcheol looking at him curiously, “you’re really different from when I first saw you at the audition.”
Seungcheol cocks his head in confusion, and Jeonghan wants to coo at the way he looks like a puppy. Disregarding the way his toned back is on full display.
“I thought you were a cocky asshole. Wannabe alpha male kinda guy.”
Seungcheol’s jaw drops, but he laughs anyway, “Seriously?”
“Oh please, don’t act like you don’t do it on purpose! Sitting there all tough looking with your arms crossed,” Jeonghan mocks his appearance from that day, looking significantly less intimidating.
A light blush dusts Seungcheol’s cheeks, and Jeonghan knows he’s right.
“Yeah, well, obviously it didn't work on you. Still annoyed the shit out of me.”
Jeonghan scoffs, “Most people would feel blessed to have gotten a taste of the Yoon Jeonghan, by the way.”
Abandoning his work at the stove, Seungcheol comes to stand between Jeonghan’s legs, looking into his eyes and speaking earnestly;
“Trust me, angel, I feel like I’ve won the lottery.”
Jeonghan smacks his shoulder, turning away to hide his shy smile. Seungcheol takes hold of his jaw to bring him back, pulling him in to press their lips together.
If the morning melts into the afternoon with Jeonghan bent over Seungcheol’s kitchen counter, that’s nobody's business.
✩
Jeonghan isn’t sure how exactly, but it becomes routine.
One of them will text the other with a poorly made-up excuse of seeing one another, and the night ends with them falling into bed together, tangled in sheets. Or the shower. Or the kitchen, on a desk, a pool table, the couch, pressed against the penthouse floor-to-ceiling window.
There are very few surfaces in either of their homes that remain untouched.
Now, the early August evening heat is taking a heavy toll on Jeonghan’s body, feeling like he’s practically melting off the bone.
A perfect opportunity presents itself in his mind.
seungcheol
so hot.
Insanely.
sooooo hottttt :(
Your conditioning broken or something?
I can try and come over to fix it later tonight, but it’ll be pretty late.
Naturally, Jeonghan’s infatuation had only worsened exponentially, devolving into a full-blown crush. It felt immature almost, the way he turned giddy and foolish around Seungcheol, teasing him for fun like a teenager.
It was moments like this that made it nearly impossible to try and forget, making him smile at his phone and kick his feet.
seungcheol
ac is fine dummy
ice cream?
Should’ve known.
Maybe another night baby, I’ve been running around all day.
ughhhhh ok
i’m supposed to be on a diet so i shouldn’t anyway
I’ll be there in two hours. I know a place that’s open late.
He also thinks he’s got Seungcheol figured out a little bit better now.
Jeonghan is not the anxious type. He's spent years of his life under microscopic levels of scrutiny; the way his every muscle moves, the way walks, talks, breathes.
He doesn’t know the last time he was truly nervous, either for work or a date.
It’ll be the first time the two of them are actually going somewhere together, rather than just having a midnight rendezvous at one of their places. He doesn’t know if he can even call it a date, or consider it anything other than the prelude to their learned waltz.
But it has to count for something. Like, in the nonexistent rule book of Things To Do or Not Do With Someone You Only Fuck, he’s about ninety percent sure getting ice cream is not in there. Nor is texting them when you’re done with a schedule, when you get home safe, or when something reminds you of them.
If he doesn’t make it his problem, it’s not his problem. It’ll just be how they are, and he’s more than okay with that.
When Seungcheol pulls up to the front of Jeonghan’s complex, Jeonghan isn’t at all surprised by him getting out to open the passenger side door, but that doesn’t make him swoon any less.
“Such a gentleman.”
Seungcheol gives him a funny look when he gets in the driver’s seat and buckles himself in, “Are you gonna say that every time I do something for you?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, people of this social caliber with chivalrous manners are not exactly easy to come by,” Jeonghan stretches his legs out on the dashboard, which Seungcheol immediately forcibly removes, saying it’s dangerous.
“Well, not when you’re with me.”
Seungcheol turns up the radio just as Jeonghan mumbles, “With?”
He quickly turns it back down, “Huh?”
“Nothing, nothing, I was just clearing my throat.” Seungcheol squints a bit, but doesn’t press further.
The ride is quiet, and Jeonghan’s nerves swirl gently in his stomach. The silence between them isn’t uncomfortable; the low music and the hum of the air conditioning fills the space, and Jeonghan does his best to try and hide the way he can’t stop looking at Seungcheol. What he can’t stop himself from doing is reaching over and flicking the little ponytail in Seungcheol’s now black hair.
Seungcheol grabs his hand and places it back down on his thigh, and Jeonghan feels mildly scolded. Despite gripping Jeonghan’s thighs countless times before, the brush of Seungcheol’s fingers against it before it retreats makes his stomach flip.
Time and time again, Jeonghan is slapped in the face by the fact that Seungcheol can practically hear his thoughts. He reaches over and lays his hand over Jeonghan’s left leg, wrapping around the circumference to grip as much of the flesh as he can.
Jeonghan looks over to him just to find him already looking. It’s brief, Seungcheol never taking his eyes off the road for long, something about having “precious cargo”. Jeonghan rolls his eyes at that.
It isn’t awkward. Not that Jeonghan expected it to be—well, he didn’t know what to expect at all, really. He tries to shake his head clear of the soaring delusions that this is something more; it’s just ice cream. This would mean something maybe if they were seventeen years old, but they are grown adults in a purely sexual relationship. So why is Jeonghan still getting butterflies when Seungcheol kisses him at a red light?
Of course when they get there, Seungcheol opens his door for him. Of course he pays for their packaged ice cream pops, of course Jeonghan’s favorite flavor. Jeonghan forgets when he ever told him that. It must’ve slipped during their pillow talks that have lasted hours after they’re done, only stopping when the sun starts to peek out and Seungcheol can’t keep his eyes open.
“Feeling better?” Seungcheol says, his mouth full of strawberry ice cream, and Jeonghan doesn’t know what to do with the feeling of endearment that washes over him.
He forgets to respond, and Seungcheol glances to the side a few times and licks the ice cream off his lips, waiting for an answer until Jeonghan snaps out of it. “Good! Good, yeah, way better.”
Seungcheol smiles, eyes crinkling, and Jeonghan is hit with a second blow of something he doesn’t really want to put a name to.
They enjoy the quiet, the thrum of the aggressive white lights of the convenience store playing background for the clicks of the cicadas in the bushes.
A breeze rushes through the air, and Jeonghan involuntarily shivers, pulling his arms close to his chest.
Before he can even say anything, Seungcheol is taking his own sweatshirt off, thrusting his arm out in Jeonghan’s direction. Jeonghan feels his face heat up, both at the gesture and the sight of a sliver of skin peeking out above Seungcheol’s sweatpants when his t-shirt lifts.
“C’mon, before you get too cold,” Seungcheol waves the sweatshirt around a little, and Jeonghan rolls his eyes when he takes it. How grossly considerate of him. How terribly inconsiderate that he would do such a thing to Jeonghan’s weak heart.
He tosses the damp stick from his ice cream in the garbage and tugs on the hoodie, inhaling the scent of Seungcheol as he pulls it over his face.
There’s a strange look on Seungcheol’s face when Jeonghan looks at him, a smile just beginning to curl on his lips in a way that looks as though he’s entirely unaware of it. The breeze isn’t enough to cool Jeonghan’s warm cheeks.
“What’s with the face?” He mumbles.
Seungcheol snorts, “What face?”
“The one on your face.”
“That’s the only one I have.”
Jeonghan crosses his arms and looks away.
Seungcheol moves next to Jeonghan and turns him back, gently pulling his arms apart and looking him up and down.
“I just like how you look in my clothes, that’s all. Is that so weird?”
Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek, “It is weird. You’re weird.”
Seungcheol hums, swinging Jeonghan’s arms absentmindedly, “You seem to like it anyway.”
And Jeonghan doesn’t really have a response for that, not a witty one. Yeah, I do.
He lets one yawn slip, and Seungcheol is ushering him to the car to take him home.
When Jeonghan shuts the door, he can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of him. He leans back against the door, clutching Seungcheol’s sweatshirt close to his chest, smelling it like a freak, and smiling to himself like the main character of a shitty romcom.
There’s a brief serenity in this moment, right before he’s slapped in the face with reality.
They didn’t have sex.
They didn’t even touch each other, not like that.
After the moment shatters, Jeonghan tosses the sweatshirt on the couch and paces his living room for far too long before getting a grip.
He’s grown. He knows what to do in these situations. He can be cool about it.
Making a pathetic attempt at mediating and grounding himself, he takes deep breaths in and out, eyes closed. When he’s done and it hasn’t helped much, he flicks his hair and grabs his phone. He can be cool about this. He’s Yoon Jeonghan for fucks sake—nothing throws him off balance. What the hell has gotten into him? Lord knows what Seungkwan would say if he saw the way he was acting a fool now.
Without letting himself rationalize his way out of it, he texts Seungcheol.
seungcheol
so
was that a date?
Seungcheol is driving home, he might not see it. But he has a fancy car, there has to be an updated head unit, something you can text and watch YouTube and do other bullshit from. Therefore, he should be able to text Jeonghan back. Unless he doesn’t want to and Jeonghan is misreading the situation terribly and he hates Jeonghan’s guts.
The four minutes it takes for Seungcheol to text back feel nothing like the four minutes he would have with his ex. Time drags on, every tick of a second passing silently in Jeonghan’s head.
seungcheol
Obviously.
Up to your discretion of course.
Jeonghan lets his knees buckle and falls to his plush rug with a dreamy sigh.
seungcheol
my discretion is if i found out you were fucking someone else the way you fuck me i would end up on national news
Too much?
seungcheol
As feisty as ever.
You got it baby.
Maybe not.
✩
Somewhere along the line in the past couple months, the two of them made it official. Seungcheol didn’t care too much for a proper officiation–according to him, it was “official since the beginning”, which made Jeonghan roll his eyes and kiss his now boyfriend.
For Jeonghan, he needed a date to mark cutely with a sticker on his calendar. Every month.
Sure, he was a high class model who had his fair share of no-strings-attached sort of situationships, but once he was committed, he needed every string attached. And so far, Seungcheol didn’t mind being tied to the other end in the slightest. He would even go so far as to book a reservation for dinner on every single one of their month-aversaries.
Except, of course, for when he was away, like for their three month anniversary today. Seungcheol, or S.Coups, was in Bangkok for a stop on his Asia tour.
The tours were a sort of win-lose situation for Jeonghan; of course he hated being away from Seungcheol–his clinginess was like a disease–but seeing Seungcheol perform was enough to make up for it. The way his energy commanded a whole stadium, nobody’s eyes could be on anything but him. There were few things that turned Jeonghan on more than seeing Seungcheol in the zone on stage, a fire in his eyes and a raspy bass to his voice.
The most unfortunate part about it was the aftermath, though.
Jeonghan was stuck watching clips from screaming fans and 4K HD fansite cameras, restlessly refreshing Twitter from a burner to catch every angle. He saw the way Seungcheol’s long hair, half tucked into a ponytail, was stuck to his forehead, the way beads of sweat dripped down the side of his face and left a glowing sheen on his exposed arms, the way his chest and biceps were nearly bulging out of the tight shirt he was wearing. His eyebrows low and furrowed, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips, his hands running over his own body. There was no one to see Jeonghan biting down on his finger, groaning quietly to himself at every clip.
But he couldn’t do anything about it–all he wanted to do was pull Seungcheol right down into his bed and ride him until the sun was coming up, but the distance between them had other plans. So, Jeonghan was left with no choice.
He would just have to shove his hand down his shorts and get himself off to a 16-second clip of Seungcheol like the rest of his fans do.
Honestly, Jeonghan almost had to commend them; seeing Seungcheol look like this and not being able to have him? What a terrible fate that must be. Good for them for seeing it through, but Jeonghan couldn’t imagine it.
But after spilling onto his lower stomach and doing a shoddy job of cleaning it up with the tissues on his bedside table, Jeonghan is left looking at their thoughts with his phone still open to his Twitter timeline. He didn’t particularly care for anything the fans had to say, he was just pleased with the fact that Seungcheol was so loved. There was also a part of him that quietly enjoyed the way people lusted after him, reveling in the fact that it was him who was falling into Seungcheol’s bed at the end of the day.
In his mindless scrolling through typed out shouting and crying, Jeonghan sees something that stops him in his tracks. Maybe it was the irritation from the fact that Seungcheol wasn’t here with him, maybe it was because he could still feel a less than pleasant stickiness on his stomach, maybe he was just tired, but he finds himself getting agitated at the words he reads.
cant wait 4 him to come home to me tonight!!!
No, he won’t be doing that. If anything, he would be coming home to Jeonghan. It’s stupid, it’s petty, but Jeonghan does the closest thing he can do to punching the person in the head and blocks them.
But now he’s opened the floodgates, and everything is getting on his nerves.
my mannnn ugh the kids miss you babe
Kids? They haven’t even gone without a condom yet. Blocked.
we’re gonna read ur tweets together in bed tonight n laugh at u guys <3
Jeonghan certainly isn’t laughing. He would be if he was with Seungcheol, but he’s not. And this random is absolutely not either. Blocked.
this is how he looks when we fuck btw
Jeonghan reports the tweet.
There was nothing to be jealous of, Jeonghan was the one Seungcheol chose, and him only. But it would be a lie to say that Jeonghan wasn’t a bit… territorial. As much as he loved that Seungcheol was so loved, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something nasty when someone, even online, talked a little too sweetly to Seungcheol, his Seungcheol.
He slams his phone down and crosses his arms for a total of ten seconds before he picks it back up again to aggressively tap his fingers on the screen to send a text to Seungcheol.
seungcheollie
call me when u get in bed after the show
i need you
There’s a satisfying grin growing on Jeonghan’s face, despite not even getting a response yet. He doesn’t need one to know what Seungcheol’s answer is: an enthusiastic yes, an immediate dedication of his alone time to Jeonghan.
He’s right, of course.
When the reply comes over an hour later, likely as soon as Seungcheol had stepped into the van driving him home, it’s a string of frantic agreements and wait for me.
Usually, Jeonghan would wait, but he was far too irritated to sit around idly, so instead he strips down bare. On second thought, he slips on one of Seungcheol’s t-shirts.
He spends the next hour prepping himself, getting closer to the edge on every curl of his fingers, his frustration only mounting.
When he finally hears his phone start ringing, a video call from Seungcheol, he heaves a sigh of relief and picks up, only showing his upper half. On the other end, Seungcheol is freshly showered, hair nearly dripping still and a floppy mess over his forehead.
“In a rush, huh?” Jeonghan surprises himself with how strained his voice is when he speaks.
“Fucking obviously,” Seungcheol’s voice is hushed but still deep, and it sends a shiver down Jeonghan’s spine. “Now show me what you’ve been doing with yourself.”
And that’s what Jeonghan has been needing. He pushes his phone up against the pillow so his whole body is in frame, sitting on his heels on the bed, oversized shirt covering his cock.
Seungcheol groans, wincing when he evidently slips his hand down his own shorts, “ Fuck, Jeonghan, you don’t know what you do to me.”
“So tell me.”
He reaches across the bed to where he left one of his bigger toys, something that can at least come close to what Seungcheol feels like inside of him. He douses it in lube just out of frame while his boyfriend is losing himself in praising Jeonghan.
“You drive me insane, angel, I kept seeing your face in the crowd, I can barely think straight when we’re apart, all I can think about is you. ”
At the same time as Seungcheol’s gushing, Jeonghan lifts himself up to slide the toy underneath, lowering himself back down onto it with a gasp. Seungcheol’s eyes flutter shut at the sight, breathing out quiet curses at the little noises Jeonghan lets out.
It’s close enough, sure. But if he wants to feel Seungcheol with him in this moment, he’s going to have to get as close to the real thing as possible.
“Tell me what to do,”
A cheshire grin stretches on Seungcheol’s face, amused with the power Jeonghan’s just given him.
“Put your fingers in your mouth.”
Jeonghan shudders when he slips his index and middle finger in his mouth, other hand holding the toy in place while he bounces on it.
“You’re pretending it’s me, right? My fingers in your mouth, you riding me?”
Fucking obviously. The annoyance from being apart and seeing everyone thirst after his boyfriend hasn’t quite dissipated, but he still knows better than to just give a nod. Seungcheol likes hearing Jeonghan, and he’s visibly pleased when Jeonghan says yes.
“Talk to me, what got you so worked up?”
Jeonghan groans in frustration, pulling fingers out and glaring at Seungcheol. “You’re seriously asking me-”
“You think I can’t tell when you’re riled up? I’m the one who fucks it out of you, so tell me.”
The authority in Seungcheol’s voice combined with the vulgar but strangely caring statement makes Jeonghan’s dick twitch.
“I saw… everyone wants you.”
It’s quiet for a moment, then Seungcheol has that stupid cocky look on his face, the same one he makes when he knows he’s about to crack Jeonghan.
“You’re jealous.”
Jeonghan narrows his eyes, still not breaking his rhythm at any point.
“I would be jealous if someone else had you. I’m possessive, and everyone else is jealous.”
Seungcheol lets out a low whistle, “Jesus, baby, I didn’t think you could get any hotter.”
Another shiver rolls down his body. His breaths are getting shallower, his thighs growing sore, so he puts his palms out on the bed for support.
“C’mon, pose real pretty for me, baby, bend over,” Seungcheol’s voice is low and coaxing, and Jeonghan lets out a strangled moan as he stretches himself out, chest down to the bed. He goes to move the camera in a way that shows the dildo sliding in and out of his hole, but Seungcheol stops him. “Ah, you know I like seeing your pretty face when I fuck you, angel.”
It’s too much for him, the way Seungcheol is speaking to him. It’s one thing to show him fucking himself with a toy over a video call, but to show his face, bent over and flushed and dazed from edging himself for nearly two hours, he’s gotten terribly shy. But, hiding his face isn’t an option, not with Seungcheol.
“So good at listening, so good at posing and looking good. For me. ”
Jeonghan’s eyebrows are knitting together, and he has to force his eyes to stay open so he can keep them on Seungcheol, his mind-numbingly sexy boyfriend who’s talking him through an orgasm after performing for tens of thousands of fans who wish they were in Jeonghan’s place.
“You think I don’t feel the same?” Seungcheol’s voice is starting to get more rugged as he nears his own climax. “How do you think I feel seeing the way everyone worships you? The way they touch you and tell you to pose just how they want, the way people see you everywhere and imagine you in their bed?”
Maybe Jeonghan has something wrong with him, but his stomach is turning with pleasure at the way Seungcheol is getting audibly angrier.
“It makes me crazy , Jeonghan, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the thought of anyone seeing you like this, and I can’t stand the fact that they can even think of you like that. Everyone should know you’re mine, ” Seungcheol rasps out. “Only I can have you like this, bent over and fucking yourself brainless and imagining it’s me.”
The string snaps, and Jeonghan is spilling all over the inside of his t-shirt with a choked out moan of Seungcheol’s name, who groans out Jeonghan’s in return when he finishes.
Jeonghan’s legs shake, hole twitching as he pulls the toy out, and collapses down onto the bed, energy sapped completely. He hears Seungcheol chuckle, calling him cute under his breath.
They don’t talk for a moment, Jeonghan just trying to regain his sense of reality. Seungcheol breaks the silence first:
“You really got jealous over what my fans say?”
Jeonghan weakly lifts his head, “I told you, not jealous, possessive. There’s a difference. I don’t have anything to be jealous of, they should be jealous of me. ”
Another laugh rings out from his phone, “Right, right, sorry.” Seungcheol adjusts himself, turning onto his side and pulling the covers over his shoulder. “The feeling is mutual. And you need to clean yourself up, I hate that I can’t do it for you.”
Jeonghan whines, but does what he’s told anyway, somehow talking Seungcheol’s ear off with a newly found energy while he gets ready for bed.
They exchange disgustingly sweet goodnights and promises of making up for lost time, but before Jeonghan sleeps he shoots one last text.
seungcheol
you better fuck me as soon as you step thru my door.
✩
In Jeonghan’s defense, he tried. Really, he did. He told himself he would let them enjoy their dinner when Seungcheol returned after a week, that they would bask in each other’s warmly missed company.
But when he came face to face with Seungcheol, slightly sunkissed from his time going out and about in various tropical countries, as handsome as he’s ever seen him, it’s not his fault that their welcome kiss spiraled. Seungcheol’s hands started wandering lower, Jeonghan’s moving higher into Seungcheol’s hair, and their clothes were shed before they even reached the bedroom, scattered in the hallway haphazardly.
Despite Jeonghan’s needy urgency, Seungcheol takes as much time as necessary to stretch him out, the way he does every time. Between the gentle care with which he handles Jeonghan and the way he reaches places Jeonghan can never on his own, the pleasure is ruining.
By the time Seungcheol is finally sliding into him, Jeonghan is already whining and overheating in every part of his body. The first thrust has both of them gasping, Seungcheol muttering I missed you over and over into his ear.
Their explosive chemistry in bed combined with them not having touched for weeks serves them well in finding a dizzying rhythm, Seungcheol showering Jeonghan in unending praise while he makes him see stars.
“ Fuck, Jeonghan, wish I could see you like this forever.”
An idea pops into Jeonghan’s head.
“Do it,” he pants, “record it.”
Seungcheol’s thrusts falter, nearly stopping completely. “Are- are you sure?”
Jeonghan is stubborn like that; once he has an idea in his mind, he has to go through with it. Simply put, what he wants, he gets. But Jeonghan needs this. He needs concrete evidence that Seungcheol fucks his brains out, brings him to the precipice of his next life every time they get together.
He reaches over to try and fumble for one of their phones on the nightstand next to the bed and fails, but Seungcheol catches on and quickly grabs his own phone. Something hot and perverted churns in Jeonghan at the thought of it being on his phone.
It’s natural for Jeonghan to be seductive on camera, just not to this degree. Seungcheol, however, seems to have no issues; it shouldn’t be surprising, performance anxiety doesn’t seem to phase him all that much evidently.
He’s running his free hand slowly up and down Jeonghan’s smooth abdomen, taking his sweet time fucking into him at an excruciatingly slow pace now. The hand shifts to Jeonghan’s waist, getting a good grip on the side so he can thrust a little sharper, punching out moans from Jeonghan.
Seungcheol keeps at it for a bit before slowing again. Jeonghan is panting like he’s in heat, his hands knotted in the sheet beneath them.
“Tell me how beautiful you are.”
Jeonghan short-circuits, not quite comprehending what was being asked of him.
“I don’t…” he trails off.
“I know you know how good you look like this, so tell me.” Seungcheol is rocking deep and slow into him, only worsening his struggle, brain turning to mush in his skull.
Seungcheol wants him to praise himself. It’s sickening, the way Seungcheol gets off on feeding his ego, knowing Jeonghan feeds off the praise like it’s a drug.
He musters up what he can, telling himself the words he’s heard whispered in his ear by Seungcheol himself. “I-I’m pretty.”
The signature cocky grin shows itself on Seungcheol’s face, which Jeonghan wishes he could have on his phone. “I know you can do better, baby, you’re more than just pretty and you know it.” An unexpectedly sharp thrust has Jeonghan choking on a gasp. “ Tell me.”
“I’m beautiful,” Jeonghan pants. He thinks of how he must look with a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks blotched with crimson, hair a mess and sticking to his forehead, wet lips parted in an endless string of moans and whines. “I-I look so good when you- ngh- when you fuck me like this. I look so pretty for you, Cheollie.”
He doesn’t know where the nickname comes from, but in all fairness, he’s never in his right mind when Seungcheol has him gasping for air on his cock.
The hand that was on his waist grazes up his body and reaches his face. Seungcheol gently grabs his jaw, turning him towards the camera. “My beautiful angel boy.”
When Jeonghan’s mouth drops in a moan, Seungcheol slides his thumb in, pressing down on his tongue lightly. The heat in his underbelly swells out of nowhere, and he’s coming untouched, noises muffled by the finger his lips are sealed around.
“Fuck, Hannie,” Seungcheol curses, pulling his hand from Jeonghan’s mouth and moving to push his hair out of his face, “You came just like that? Just from hearing how pretty you are?” He could say it a million times and Jeonghan doesn’t think he could ever get tired of it. Maybe it’s an ego thing, maybe it’s a Seungcheol thing. Probably a bit of both.
Seungcheol is fucking him through the comedown, putting the phone back down on the nightstand, and Jeonghan must have gotten the sense fucked out of him entirely because of what he does next.
“Take it off, Cheollie, I want it raw.”
At this, Seungcheol stops completely, his mouth twitching and struggling to find words. Jeonghan knows what he wants, and he doesn’t need to be asked if he’s sure. So what if he’s just cockdrunk? If Seungcheol wants to fuck him so good, he better be willing to deal with the slut he makes out of Jeonghan.
“I want to feel you fill me, take it off, please, ” Jeonghan tries to sound commanding, but just comes off disturbingly desperate, crazed.
At the end of the day, Seungcheol lives off of making Jeonghan feel good, so he doesn’t need to be told again. He pulls out of Jeonghan with a little less grace than he’s used to, sliding off the condom quickly and pushing back in.
The feeling of Seungcheol entering him raw, just skin to skin contact is heavenly, the noises spilling out of both of them as Seungcheol fucks an overstimulated Jeonghan downright sinful.
Seungcheol leans over Jeonghan, overwhelming his senses with just Seungcheol Seungcheol Seungcheol everywhere. Jeonghan claws at Seungcheol’s back with none of his usual care, knowing it’ll leave a painting of marks the next day, which only spurs Seungcheol on more to somehow fuck Jeonghan harder.
Tears start brimming in Jeonghan’s eyes, the intensity of being brought to his second orgasm. All it takes is a single touch of Seungcheol’s hand on his spent cock and a moan of “My pretty angel” in his ears for his climax to slam into him, leaving him shaking and gasping for air. He’s hit with another wave of overwhelming pleasure when Seungcheol presses deep and releases inside of him, filling him.
They stay connected and unmoving for a while, their pants and shaky breaths hot in each other's ears. Seungcheol presses a light kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek, one that lets him know he’s about to pull out.
Seungcheol takes a little extra time cleaning Jeonghan up this time, placing a kiss to every part of his body that he wipes down with a warm washcloth, whispering words of affection with every peck.
There’s nothing else that can describe the way Jeonghan feels other than violently lovesick.
When they’re under the covers, limbs tangled, Jeonghan nearly trying to crawl into Seungcheol’s rib cage, Seungcheol murmurs into his hair, voice heavy with exhaustion:
“Is this a good time to tell you that I didn’t even have anyone else audition?”