Chapter Text
“Five, six, seven, eight, and one!” The bright voice echoed in the mirrored practice room, accompanied by clapping to emphasize each beat hit and each step taken.
The room was filled with a symphony of noise, nearly a dozen pairs of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood flooring as each person took synchronized steps to the music. The clapping, the loud music, the squeaky shoes, the unintentional grunts, the shouting from their leader, it was so loud he almost couldn’t hear himself think.
Just the way Gunwook liked it.
He let himself move across the floor as if he were flying above it, light on his feet but heavily stomping when he needed to be. He danced with a sharp edge to his movements, hitting each beat like he was punching it. The music was his own personal punching bag, his outlet for everything in life that pissed him off a bit too much. If the song playing were a person in front of him, they’d leave the room bruised and throbbing. He showed the choreography no mercy.
Perhaps he showed it a little mercy. Just enough to not stick out like a sore thumb as he danced with his peers, synchronizing and adapting to his teammates' own moves. Everyone’s dancing styles were similar, it wasn’t too hard to fit in anyway. They moved as one, sharing their movements perfectly with almost no one dancing out of line.
No one except him, that is.
With one last step and a strong ending, the upbeat editorial rap song faded, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and panting.
Their leader smiled, turning to her team behind her, “That was a great run-through, guys!” She placed her hands on her hips, her breathing matching that of her teammates. She took her hair out of the ponytail she kept it in, running her hand through it as she turned to him, “Nice and sharp as always, Gunwook, not one wrong step.”
Gunwook smiled back and nodded, bowing lightly, “Thank you, Yeji-noona.” The dancer bathed in the praise he was given, shining brightly as he felt his sweat soak into his tank top.
Gunwook thrived on every last praise he got for his dancing, whether it came from their dance crew's leader, another member, or some random person who watched a performance of theirs. He was one of the most popular members on the crew, one of the ones the others looked to for advice after practice.
He was probably the best dancer on their team, aside from their leader, of course. Yeji was their leader for a reason, after all, she was the one who guided them well and perfected every last movement for the entire crew. She helped them grow and made them better, providing them with all the tools they needed for success.
Something Gunwook hoped to provide for the team one day.
Yeji couldn’t be their leader forever, after all.
Yeji turned to the opposite side of the room, nodding at— “Matthew , I loved how smooth and groovy your dancing was, it fit the music so well!” She clapped lightly, “I’ll tweak the choreo a little before tomorrow’s practice, but hopefully we can add some more of that groovy flair to the entire crew's dancing for this song.”
Matthew grinned widely like the sly fox he was, nodding and bowing in a similar way to Gunwook, “Thank you, noona.” He straightened his posture and rested his hands behind his back, “I’d be happy to stay behind to smooth out some of the details with you.”
That grin. That stupid, cheeky grin. It always sent a volt of electricity through his body, the hair on his arm standing straight as irritation washed over him.
Gunwook, as he unconsciously let a natural glare take over his expression the moment the fox was given attention, let his glare darken and his posture stiffen as Matthew moved his gaze off Yeji and to him. Matthew stared directly into his eyes as he spoke.
“We don’t want the choreo to be too sharp for this, it just doesn’t fit.”
A direct slight at him. Expected, practically common routine at this point. But that didn’t stop it from getting under Gunwook’s skin.
Just the way Matthew liked it.
Seok Matthew. 22 years old, Canadian. Only 170cm, 14cm shorter than Gunwook. But somehow still tall enough to gloat perfectly in his face, to look Gunwook directly in the eye with a sly gaze and brag without a single word spoken.
The man had moved to Korea years ago to become a kpop trainee, ultimately falling into the dance scene and joining Voltage instead, one of the nation's most famous dance crews known all over the world.
The dance crew Gunwook was the youngest of and the dance crew Gunwook had been one of the brightest stars of.
He still was both, to be fair. Gunwook remained as the maknae of Voltage for now and he was still one of the more popular members of the crew.
But when Matthew joined the crew, things shifted.
Suddenly his name was everywhere, people all over Korea watching their performances just to see what was up with the new guy. The new guy who danced unlike anyone else, all while still maintaining a certain synchronicity with his teammates. The new guy from Canada who moved so smoothly with precision and care, the new guy people couldn’t take their eyes off of.
The new guy that made everyone’s focus on Gunwook shift to him instead.
Gunwook isn’t normally an outwardly jealous person, he buries his negative feelings and moves on. He wouldn’t normally glare at someone so obviously, wouldn’t publicly have an enemy or rival of any kind.
Matthew quickly became an exception.
Yeji rolled her eyes, “That won’t be necessary, Matthew. I would like to speak with you and Gunwook, however,” She glanced back at Gunwook, taking note of how the two were in a deadly staring contest, “I have some things about the choreo to talk about with both of you.”
Gunwook felt a smirk spread on his lips, his eyes shifting between Yeji and Matthew before responding cheekily, “I’d be happy to hear them, noona.”
He could already feel a glare burning into his side, which only made him smile more. He loved when Matthew got to feel the same way he did, when he got to be compared to Gunwook.
The best way to describe the root of their rivalry was to point out the constant comparison between them. Sharp vs smooth movements, piercing vs fluid, like fire to water. Vastly different, near polar opposites, but compared at every last turn. The two best male dancers in Voltage, the most popular on the crew with styles like night and day.
When Gunwook got praised heavily on a choreography, it was often due to his sharp movements and how perfectly they lived up to the name Voltage. Fast and sharp like lightning. But when the praise was all about his dance style, it always ended up subtly knocking down Matthew’s smoother, flowy movements.
When Matthew got praised heavily, it was because of his groove and how smoothly he danced, his body moving like water and flowing perfectly with a foreign pep in his step. Refreshing and smooth like air. Another praise that would end up shading Gunwook’s style, whether people actively tried to or not.
They were fighting for the top spot, for the eye of the audience. Fierce competition came easy to Gunwook, he was a fighter more than anything else. Determined to prove himself, determined to improve, determined to be the best.
And he would be.
Gunwook would be the best at the end of the day, no matter how many times Matthew got a foot up on him.
And he’d rub it in the older dancer's face every chance he got.
“Everyone else is dismissed!” Yeji grabbed her water bottle and took a swig of water, speaking after she swallowed it down, “Keep practicing when you have time and be here tomorrow, same as usual. If you have any questions, you can ask me now or text me later. Have a good day, everyone!”
With that, the rest of the dance crew moved to grab their belongings and left the room, walking side by side and whispering gossip in each other’s ears. Gunwook could even hear them mumble as they left, “Matthew-oppa fits this choreo so much better than Gunwook, I don’t even know why Unnie still gives him center parts.”
“I know right? Gunwook-ah really needs to get with the program already.”
“What are you talking about? If you saw them dance side by side, it’s obvious Gunwook’s better.”
“You’re only saying that because Matthew-oppa turned you down, be serious.”
Gunwook rolled his eyes and trudged over to his belongings, finding a spot next to Matthew.
They grabbed their water bottles, drinking from them by where they rested their bags. The bags that were right next to each other.
Matthew gulped down some water, sighing before he spoke, “Why are you so close?”
Gunwook played dumb, widening his eyes with doe-like innocence, “I’m so sorry about that, Matthew . I had no idea you put your bag here, too.” He took a swig of his own water, throwing his throat back and swallowing loudly as dramatically as he could.
He knew Matthew’s bag was there. Matthew got to practice before him today. Gunwook just put his belongings right next to Matthew’s the second he saw the man’s pikachu keychain, hoping to annoy him.
The Canadian squinted his eyes, “I got here first, you were five minutes late.”
He shook his head, “I don’t think I remember that, Matthew.”
Once again, he did. Gunwook ran in late to practice after missing his train and having to catch the next one, thankfully only missing warmup. Matthew didn’t need to know that, of course.
Matthew glared at Gunwook’s lack of honorifics and his lies, knowing he used it as a way to disrespect him. Incredibly hypocritical of him, if you asked Gunwook, considering Matthew hadn’t shown Gunwook an ounce of respect since he joined.
“Would you stop saying my name like that?”
“Maybe if you called me ‘ Gunwook-sunbaenim’ I would.”
The older scoffed, “In your fucking dreams, Gunwook.”
“Then no, Matthew, I won’t.” Gunwook emphasized, “I just love saying your name like that, I don’t think I could ever say it any other way—“
“Gunwook, Matthew,” Yeji started, waving them over, “Let’s talk.”
The two begrudgingly gathered next to Yeji at the front of the room, standing on opposite sides of her rather than side by side. They averted their gazes from one another, focusing on their leader instead.
Yeji smiled, crossing her arms and leaning on one side comfortably, “What do you guys think of the choreo so far?”
“I love it,” Matthew praised before Gunwook could get a word out, “It’s so unique but it fits the music perfectly. Once it’s adjusted a little and everyone learns it, I think it’ll be a great performance song for us.”
His Korean had a foreign accent to it, tinged by his English fluency. Matthew’s Korean was clumsy, yet direct and straightforward. He didn’t mince words or change how he normally spoke in English, only taking his statements and directly translating them in his mind without any care for typical Korean mannerisms and flow of language.
It was easy to understand, but he spoke in a way that came across cutesy to everyone who heard him. Which made it even more infuriating when he argued with Gunwook, making everything sound patronizing without even trying. It pissed him off.
She nodded, turning to Gunwook for his feedback, “Gunwook?”
Gunwook stuffed his hands in his pockets, “I really like it, noona. I think it’s perfect the way it is, I don’t see much of a need for adjusting other than making sure everyone’s in sync.”
Matthew scoffed, “Well I think adjusting it is important, it’s not just about keeping everyone in sync when some people stick out like a sore thumb.” He jabbed a thumb in Gunwook’s direction, pointing with an accusatory tone.
“Oh, I stick out like a sore thumb?”
“I never pointed fingers,” Matthew held his hands up and clearly, like he was under arrest, “But if the shoe fits…”
The young dancer sputtered in disbelief, “You literally pointed fingers!”
The Canadian looked at Yeji as if he were breaking a fourth wall and she was their audience. It was like saying ‘can you believe this guy?’ without saying a word. Whether she was taking sides or not, Gunwook wasn’t sure, but Matthew seemed thoroughly convinced she’d take his.
“Alright, enough.”
Gunwook crossed his arms, huffing as he turned back to Yeji and tried his best to ignore the short man.
Yeji sighed, “I wouldn’t say it needs no adjustment, but I do think it needs to be adjusted in two different ways.”
Matthew cocked a brow, smirking in Gunwook’s direction subtly. He probably took that as a win on his part.
The younger dancer ignored him, trying his best not to scoff as he questioned his leader, “What did you have in mind?”
“We need more balance in your dancing styles.” Yeji stated, “The whole crew follows the two of you and you’re confusing them.”
The smirk on Matthew’s face wiped off quickly, “Confusing them?”
Gunwook stood with rapt attention, his focus on Yeji’s statement. Confusing their teammates? That… that didn’t sound good.
Yeji elaborated, “You two are some of our strongest dancers, the rest of the crew looks to you both to see how you articulate the moves given and they adapt to that. They adapt to you.”
She pointed at each of them as she spoke, “The song we’re working with is fast-paced and high-energy, I can’t have half my crew dancing one way and the other half dancing another. You both need to come to an agreement on the different parts of this song and how you’re both going to articulate those moves.”
Both of them needed to come to an agreement. Both of them needed to come to an agreement?
That sounded nearly impossible. They were constantly butting heads, shading the other at every chance they got. And they needed to come to an agreement? Over choreography? Like that’d ever happen.
Their leader pointed toward the door, gesturing to the practice room across the hall, “I want you both to go to the other practice room and talk this out. Find out which parts to keep sharp and which parts to keep smooth, but compromise , please.”
Gunwook shook his head, laughing in slight disbelief, “Noona, I—“ He huffed in amusement, “I don’t think that’s happening.”
Matthew nodded, “Can’t we just go with what you said earlier?”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Yeji shook her head, “I can’t have the entire dance be like that. It’s perfect for the bridge and first verse, but the chorus needs to be powerful and precise. The choreo specifically has tutting elements in the chorus, the movements need to be sharp to fit that.”
“Yeji-noona, can’t we just dance separately first then let you determine what style fits best where?” Gunwook questioned, “There’s no way he’d ever let me compromise with him.” Gunwook jabbed a thumb in Matthew’s direction, mirroring the boy from earlier.
Matthew widened his eyes, “Me?!”
“Yes you!” Gunwook responded loudly, “You haven't listened to a word I’ve said in months, we can’t compromise if you won’t listen to me .”
“When all you talked about was how I should change my dancing, why the hell would I listen?” Matthew matched his volume, upset by the accusation.
Gunwook chuckled darkly, running his tongue over the inside of his cheek as he rolled his eyes at Matthew’s audacity, “I never said you should change your dancing and you know that—“
“Just stop, just…” Yeji paused, pinching the bridge of her nose with shut eyes, “Stop. I’m not going to let this stupid thing between you two mess with the crew any longer.”
Her tone caught them both off guard, a serious air settling in the room.
“I won’t be adjusting anything. This has gone too far and you both need to fix whatever this ” She paused to circle her hand in the air, gesturing to the two of them, “is before the crew starts suffering because of it. You’ll compromise and talk or you won’t be in the performance at all.”
Their jaws dropped in unison, exchanging glances before rushing to try and calm her down. “Yeji-noona, please don’t—“ Gunwook begged.
She ignored the attempt.
Yeji moved away from the two, crossing the now empty room to grab her belongings and a set of keys before turning back to them, “Don’t even worry about going to the other practice room. Stay here. Go through the choreo together and talk it through.” She grabbed the handle of the practice room door, tossing the keys in her hand to Gunwook, “I expect you both at practice an hour early tomorrow with your shit fixed. Or at least improved. If there’s no improvement, your places on this team are on the line.”
She sported a fake smile for a second, saying, “Have a good day.” before shutting the door behind her and walking off, leaving no room for debate.
-
Gunwook and Matthew sat awkwardly on different sides of the room, rewatching video of their dance practice separately. The videos played out of sync, the music clashing in the air. They pointedly ignored the other, focused on the choreography before them.
As Gunwook watched the video closely, trying his best to focus on himself and his own moves, he couldn’t help but let his eyes drift to Matthew on the opposite side of the video.
Matthew danced with a certain grace, a certain smooth elegance like that of a male ballerina. But his moves were still precise, strong in their own right. It was just the way he moved that tended to make him stick out from the others, his natural dancing style carrying a more graceful flow than that of Gunwook’s.
He frowned to himself while watching it, trying not to let the comparison get to him. He ultimately failed.
It wasn’t like Gunwook couldn’t dance smoothly or elegantly, he could with ease. Past dance instructors of his, however, always praised his sharp, powerful movements rather than his more flowy ones. Sharp and powerful dance over time became his signature, along with intense facial expressions and controlled popping. Perfect lines, perfect angles, strong, intense, attention-grabbing.
Gunwook still had some groove to his dancing, he wasn’t stiff, but over the years, the small comments and the criticism made it harder for him to let loose the same way he used to. Dance became a fight for him, the music in his ears suddenly a battlefield. Be the best, be strong, be the main event.
Matthew, however, grew in a dance scene that was much more lax than Gunwook’s. His style was much more open, more laidback, riding the beat like a surfer on a wave.
When he joined the crew, everyone loved it. Despite the fact his style didn’t fit well with the crew’s overall dance style, the world was obsessed with Seok Matthew and everything he brought to Voltage.
Meaning everything Gunwook brought to Voltage went on the back burner, his spotlight taken from right beneath him.
Everyone swore Matthew’s dancing fit perfectly in the group, bringing a more relaxed flow that helped bring up the crew's charisma. It was like everyone but Gunwook believed he changed the team for the better, helping the team enjoy dancing more than ever before.
Now more than ever before, Gunwook fought with every move he had. He fought for the spotlight, fought for the audience's attention, fought for praise. He fought to be better than Matthew.
This was evident now that he was watching back his own dancing, how he danced with determination in his steps and fiery passion in his eyes. He was lost in himself, focused on his own moves with not as much care for his crew as a whole as he used to have. He was focused on himself. Focused on how he could outshine Matthew.
He let his gaze drift to the man on the other side of the room, taking in Matthew’s scrunched brows and his impatient tapping on the hardwood flooring. He sat crisscrossed with his hands holding him up, tapping his fingers against the floor in focus.
This petty rivalry between them had gone too far, bringing down the crew as a whole. And while Gunwook couldn’t see himself ever liking the man or losing his hatred for him, he didn’t want to lose Voltage because of it. He didn’t want to lose dance because of it.
Dance was his life, his purpose. The dance scene was where he belonged. There was no way he was going to lose that all because a short Canadian man got on his nerves.
Gunwook sighed, pausing his video before getting off the floor. He crossed his arms, making his way to the other side of the room to tower over Matthew’s sitting form.
Matthew, upon noticing the shadow cast over him, looked up and stared back at Gunwook with a deadpan expression, “What do you want?”
“Get up.” Gunwook demanded, “We need to run this and get this shit done.”
The Canadian stood up, “So now we need to ‘get this shit done’?” He used his fingers to make air quotes, mocking Gunwook’s statement, “You didn’t even wanna be here, but now you wanna start working together?”
“You didn’t wanna be here either—“ Gunwook inhaled, trying to not let his annoyance get the better of him, “Look, the faster we do this, the faster I get to go home and be away from you.” He emphasized, “Either we get this shit done today or we walk into practice tomorrow and embarrass ourselves in front of Yeji-noona. So hurry up and make a damn choice.”
Matthew glared at him, but made no move to argue. He stood in silent irritation, trying to intimidate him.
“And stop pouting like that, you’re about as intimidating as a chihuahua.” Gunwook turned away, allowing no rebuttal as he grabbed his phone and connected it to the bluetooth speakers in the room.
Matthew groaned, “What are you doing?”
Gunwook glanced back, “Practicing. You should try it.”
He slid the volume control on his phone the highest it could go, letting ‘Alter Ego’ by Doechii blast on the speakers. Then, he let the music consume him, fading Matthew into the background.
The song fit them to a T, highlighting rivalry while also focusing on rivalry with one’s self. It was a perfect song for Voltage, one the crew would dominate. If they could get their shit together.
Matthew reluctantly followed behind, placing his phone in the front of the room to record them. Despite Gunwook having already gone through roughly 30 seconds of the song, he reached for the others phone and restarted the music.
Gunwook paused once he did, staring daggers at him as the intro began playing again.
“You said to practice,” Matthew sassed, taking quick glances at Gunwook while focusing on his own moves, “So I am.”
With one final shared glare between the two of them, they began dancing together. They moved in perfect unison, synchronizing their steps to the beat.
While synchronized, however, their performances were night and day. The juxtaposition was obvious, Gunwook’s movements sharper and larger while Matthew’s were smoother and more subtle. They were both captivating in their own right, showing two different interpretations of the music that carried them. But they clashed nastily, both begging for individual attention rather than shared.
The lyrics emphasized their current emotions, the chorus letting them display the petty nature they shared with one another. Like children pettily teasing each other, their thumbs in their ears and tongues poking out in a mocking manner.
This petty nature decided to butt its head in when Gunwook accidentally (he swore it was accidentally) stepped on Matthew’s foot at the end of the first chorus. Hard.
They both stumbled at first, regaining their balance after the mishap. They shook their heads, trying to regain focus after momentarily losing it from the accident. It was obvious Matthew did not see it as an accident or a mishap, however.
Matthew glared at Gunwook through the entire second verse. His shoulder slightly knocked into the younger’s moving into the second chorus, but just enough that it pushed him forward and Gunwook back.
Gunwook stared at Matthew’s back, noticing how the older suddenly danced with just a bit more energy in his steps once he pushed Gunwook back. Like he couldn’t share the spotlight with him without performing less.
He could shake that off. He could shake off the glaring, the shoulder push, the snarky attitude. It wasn’t necessarily a one way street, Gunwook had done most of the same.
But he couldn’t shake off what Matthew did next.
The Canadian smirked in the mirror before suddenly moving to step back at the end of the chorus and beginning of the bridge, placing himself directly behind Gunwook. Then, with quick precision and feigned innocence, kicked the younger in the crook of his knee, watching how it naturally forced Gunwook’s knee to bend in an unnatural manner and how it nearly brought him tumbling to the floor.
The moment Gunwook got his balance back, he didn’t care about the dancing anymore. He turned around and glared at Matthew, outraged, “What the fuck was that?!”
Matthew continued dancing, casually replying with his sly smirk still on display, “What was what?”
Gunwook, in a fit of anger, pushed Matthew by his shoulders, “I’m not fucking playing, Matthew—“
“Hey, don’t touch me!” He yelled back, the smirk wiped clean off his face as he pushed back Gunwook in a similar light. Well, he pushed him back by his chest rather than his shoulders, considering their height difference.
The younger scrunched his brows, “Oh so you can kick me and trip me, but when I push you, suddenly it’s ‘don’t touch me’?” Gunwook scoffed, “I’ll touch you all I want.” He pushed him back by his shoulders again, rougher than the last time.
Matthew nearly growled, “You stepped on my foot on purpose! God forbid I make shit even—“
“That was an accident!” Gunwook shouted, “There’s a big fucking difference between accidentally stepping on your foot and kicking me to the ground!”
“You didn’t even fall, don’t be so dramatic.” Matthew waved him off, “You’re a big boy, right? You can handle it~” He sneered, knowing he was getting on Gunwook’s nerves.
The older attempted to walk off, possibly moving to restart the music on Gunwook’s phone. Gunwook, however, wasn’t done.
Gunwook grabbed Matthew’s wrist, using all his force to pull him back, “We’re not done, you don’t get to pull shit like that and walk off like nothing happened.”
“Fuck, can’t you just get over it already?” Matthew tried tearing his wrist out of his grip, watching as the skin beneath his hands reddened. “We fight all the fucking time, let it go.”
The younger tightened his hold on him, “You’ve disrespected me, you’ve insulted me, you’ve even degraded me. But you’re not going to fuck with my dancing and get away with it.” His tone was dark with low volume, whispering threateningly in Matthew’s ear as he forced him even closer.
“It was just a joke!” Matthew nervously chuckled, still trying to escape his hold, “I won’t do it again, okay? But let go of me—“
Gunwook squinted his eyes. ‘Just a joke’ his ass. If he had fallen, he could’ve been injured. He could’ve ended up not dancing in the performance at all because he needed to heal, he could’ve even sustained an injury that would mess with his dancing for years to come. And Matthew was bound to do it again. If he went far enough as to kick him like that, how much further could he go in the future? A twisted ankle? A broken wrist? For a joke?
“What if I actually fell? What if I twisted my ankle? Huh? Would it still be a joke then?” Gunwook got in his face, annunciating every syllable clearly and emphasizing every word he said, “What, you hate me so much you wanna see me hurt? You want me in pain?”
Matthew glanced back and forth from his wrist and Gunwook’s face, speaking in a slightly weaker tone as he tried using his other hand to physically pry the man’s fingers out of their tight grip, “Gunwook, that hurts , let go of me—”
Gunwook chuckled darkly, “Oh it hurts?” he asks in a faux innocent tone, “Call that a taste of your own fucking medicine , Matthew.” He gripped as tight as he possibly could, the heat of the skin beneath his hand burning, “You wanna talk about shit hurting, you goddamn hypocrite—“
As if it was instinctual, Matthew raised his hand and slapped Gunwook’s left cheek hard enough for the sound to reverberate. The smack forced his head to turn, a red handprint quickly forming.
It left Gunwook in a short state of shock, the anger leaving his body as he reached for his stinging cheek and let go of Matthew. The two had never gotten physical like that before, their arguments normally going no further than petty comments and nasty glares. Matthew slapping him like that… it was completely unexpected. It made everything feel more real, more real than Gunwook had anticipated.
It forced Gunwook to realize what he did, the bruise around Matthew’s wrist already forming.
Matthew rubbed his wrist with his other hand, avoiding Gunwook’s eyes as he turned around and walked to the front of the room.
The shorter made his way to his phone, stopping the recording before he crossed the room again and grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.
“I’m done with this shit, figure it out yourself.” Matthew hissed, heading straight for the door.
Fuck . He let this stupid god damn rivalry get in the way again . Matthew can’t leave, if he does they’re both as good as gone.
Yeji wasn’t playing when she said she could kick them off the team, she’s done similar before. She’s choreographed for multiple kpop groups in the past and walked right out of the room the moment a member or even manager disrespected her or messed with the groups environment. She still refused to choreograph for ‘Romeo’ after members Gyuvin and Ricky bickered too much and too seriously for her liking.
She might be more lenient with her crew, but her attachment to certain members— Gunwook and Matthew being the members she looked to for assistance the most— could only keep them safe for so long. Her crew was top priority. Keeping their practices and overall team environment positive and drama free was top priority. She could kick them out tomorrow for all they knew.
Gunwook shook his head, following behind him, “You can’t leave, we need—“
“What we need is to stay as far away as possible from each other, I’m not dealing with you right now.” Matthew replied, opening the door.
In a moment of desperation, Gunwook shut it and pinned Matthew to the door, caging him with his arms on both sides. He took a moment to calm down, breathing heavily and panting as he stared down at the man in front of him.
Matthew stood with wide eyes, making eye contact with Gunwook. They stared at one another for a moment, breathing heavily in unison after their fight.
Gunwook closed his eyes for a second before opening them again and sighed, “Please… please don’t leave.”
They remained in silence for a second, Matthew staring at him rather than answering.
He pleaded again, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.” Gunwook lowered his voice, speaking sincerely, “But if we don’t just get this done, noona could kick us off the crew.”
Matthew squinted his eyes, “If I’m the one to walk out, then I’m the one off Voltage, right? I’ll even tell Yeji-noona it was all my fault if it means I can get away from you. Isn’t that exactly what you want anyway?” Matthew scoffed mockingly, trying to get out from between Gunwook’s arms.
Matthew didn’t sound like he believed either of them could get kicked off the team, like saying that didn’t really mean anything. Matthew spoke as if his spot on Voltage was forever set in stone, mocking the idea that either of them could lose that in a snap.
Gunwook didn’t even notice him trying to leave again. The question he asked threw him off too much.
Matthew worked hard to get to where he was. He moved from Canada to a country he barely knew and put his everything into it. Yes, Matthew ended up becoming Gunwook’s main competition and the name Gunwook heard next to his own name the most. And yeah, he overshadowed him more times than Gunwook would’ve ever liked. But he’d worked too hard to get kicked off Voltage because of a stupid fight.
Gunwook couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t even wish that on his worst enemy. Matthew might be his rival, the man who got on his nerves and rode them day and night, but he wasn’t gonna let that fucker lose his spot on Voltage. No way in hell.
They argued, they bickered, they threw insult after insult, but it lit a fire Gunwook had begun to rely on. He danced for the spotlight, to take it back from Matthew. He danced to be better than him, to see the look on his face when Gunwook finally took the attention from him and brought it to himself instead.
The twitch of his plump lips from irritation, the blush on his soft cheeks from embarrassment, the dark look in his eyes when Gunwook got praised for doing something better than him for once. It stirred something in Gunwook, something that kept him going just to see it over and over again. It was satisfying in a way he’d never be able to articulate into words, but satisfying enough to feel addictive.
Hating Matthew was satisfying, addictive, stimulating. It gave him intense drive and determination. A drive and determination he had lost before the man came into his life, pulling out the rug below him and forcing Gunwook to crawl and pull just to get it back.
Hating Matthew gave Gunwook the best motivation he’d ever experienced.
As much as he hated to admit it, Gunwook couldn’t do this without him anymore. Couldn’t dance without the intense passion competition gave him. The competition Matthew gave him. They both needed to stay on this team, whether the Canadian liked it or not.
“No. I don’t.”
Matthew froze between his arms.
It’s understandable why he did, too. He’s seen personally how Gunwook had constantly been compared to him, comment after comment. How people would tear down Gunwook’s dancing in an effort to promote his own, effectively causing competition between them.
He especially knew how much Gunwook disliked him for it. How Gunwook didn’t talk to him for weeks after the comparisons first started rolling in, how the boy hated his spotlight being replaced with Matthew’s shadow. Gunwook hated his guts. Hated the way his presence outshined him at every turn.
So why wasn’t he taking the chance to get him kicked off the crew?
“You what?” Matthew asked, as if he couldn’t believe what Gunwook had just said.
Gunwook scoffed, “I said no. I don’t want you off Voltage.” He finally let his arms fall, hoping to have fully gotten his attention, “What about it?”
“You hate me…?” He phrased it as a question, like it was suddenly debatable.
“I hate you so much.”
Matthew scrunched his brows, “But you don’t want me off Voltage?”
Gunwook didn’t have the patience nor the energy to share his thoughts with Matthew, to share exactly why he didn’t want him to leave considering it was an incredibly selfish reason. That he wanted him to stay on the team just so he could work hard enough to surpass him on his own without outside interference.
So he rolled his eyes and avoided the question, changing topics, “Look, I don’t wanna get kicked out,” Gunwook pointed at himself, then directed his point at Matthew, “And you don’t wanna get kicked out. Let’s just get back to dancing.”
“Oh now you wanna move on?” Matthew laughed mockingly, “Just a few minutes ago you crushed my wrist because I wanted to move on.” He held up the mentioned wrist, the skin painted in a nasty gradient of purple, blue, and green.
“I’m sorry I did that, Matthew.” Gunwook cringed at the site, averting his gaze, “But—“
“And I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.”
He mocked him one last time, sneering as he mimicked his apology. With a light shove of Gunwook’s chest, Matthew reached for the door handle again, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.
Leaving Gunwook alone.
The same song still played on repeat, mocking him and the absence of Matthew. It echoed in the empty room, bouncing off the walls and surrounding him.
The image of Matthew’s bruised wrist remained burned in his mind, fresh as could be. The way Matthew flinched from the pain, the way his view of Gunwook changed in an instant. The way he looked at Gunwook as the cause of his pain, the reason he was hurting.
That wasn’t who he was, or at least not who he wanted to be. Gunwook hated hurting people.
Hatred didn’t need to include pain, it didn’t need to include physical bruising. It left him with a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach, an overwhelming sense of guilt that flooded his entire body. He needed to get rid of that feeling.
It took a few minutes of Gunwook lost in his thoughts before he finally snapped out of it, opening the door in front of him and leaving the room behind.
-
The building was empty, nearly abandoned as the sunset gleamed through the windows. It was unsettlingly quiet, only the low buzz of Seoul audible over the sound of Gunwook’s own footsteps.
It was only Gunwook left now. And, if he was lucky, Matthew as well.
Matthew always had this habit after practice. It didn’t matter that his apartment was within walking distance, he always ran to the locker room after practice for a shower. No one else used the showers here, not even Gunwook who used the subway to get home. Only Matthew.
As Gunwook approached the locker rooms, the sound of water hitting tiled flooring soothed his worries, yet tripled them at the same time.
He hesitantly walked in, his eyes instantly locking in on the muscular, naked back in front of him. There stood Seok Matthew, a gleam of sweat shining in the fluorescent lighting as he tore the black tank top off his torso, revealing the large tattoo on his shoulder. The man shook his head like a dog, brushing the sweaty locks back with his hand.
Gunwook hesitated where he stood, trying to find the words to say. How did he start this? What would be enough to get Matthew to listen to him? To take his apology seriously? To see how much he regretted his actions?
The younger’s mind was a storm, strong winds of regret mixing with a deluge of thoughts he shouldn’t be entertaining. A whirlwind of jealousy, hatred, weakness, self-doubt, and the slightest bit of… curiosity.
He had never seen Matthew like this before, shirtless and glistening. He had only seen Matthew’s sneer, his mocking smile, the way his eyes shined through his glares. It was a different side of Matthew he’d yet to see, just like how he had yet to see him beyond dance practice and performances.
Matthew, probably sensing Gunwook’s presence, turned his head and looked behind him. His blank expression instantly morphed, his jaw clenching. He turned his head away from him and reached for his bag before he questioned with a sigh, “What do you want now?”
“How do I make you believe me?”
Matthew paused, whipping his head back to Gunwook, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
Gunwook crossed his arms, suddenly nervous with Matthew’s eyes on him. He exhaled, “I said—”
“Oh, you don’t actually have to repeat yourself.” Matthew sassed, “I just needed a moment to process that you, Park Gunwook, care about what I think for once.”
It took effort to not roll his eyes, to not sass back and sneer. If he did either of those things, he’d effectively make this harder, make it more difficult for Matthew to believe him. He needed to bite his tongue, to placate himself and realize the ball was in Matthew’s court now. Thus, he needed to make sure he didn’t piss off the player.
Gunwook didn’t reply, only averted eye contact.
Matthew smirked, sensing the boy’s apprehension to respond. His smile had always been fox-like, cunning and sly. He always looked like he was up to no good, like a cat next to a glass cup with its paw outstretched.
“You haven’t cared about my thoughts a day in your life. But now that it’s inconvenient for you, suddenly you care about whether I believe your fake ass apology or not?” Matthew smirked mockingly before letting his anger take over his face, “Fuck off.”
He turned back around and continued what he was doing, bending down as he began to take off his black sweatpants, exposing a pair of Chrome Hearts boxers. The younger instantly looked once he started moving, only to be completely caught off guard as Matthew undressed in front of him.
Gunwook, out of embarrassment from Matthew’s statement (of course), felt his cheeks grow impossibly red. He cleared his throat, tearing his gaze off him again, “Matthew, please…”
Matthew went silent, ignoring Gunwook’s plea in favor of the shower before him. He stripped quickly, walking into the shower and closing the curtain before draping his boxers over the metal rod holding the curtain up. All Gunwook could see now was his feet and the shadow of his figure, effectively shutting him out.
Gunwook stared at the shower, crossing his arms. “Can you please just listen to me for once?” The younger groaned, irritated, “I get it, okay? I know I haven’t been… the nicest person to you in the past. But Matthew—“
“But what?” Matthew questioned, scoffing as he reached for a bottle in the shower. The shower with an incredibly thin curtain that displayed his shadow and showed every last movement the man made. “You said it yourself, you hate me.”
He squeezed product from the bottle into his hand, closing the cap before he reached for his hair and began lathering on the shampoo. The shadow of his biceps was well defined, displaying them for Gunwook to see, along with a small waist to stare at.
“Why should I believe your apology when you’ve never shown me respect? Now you suddenly respect me as a person? Yeah, right.” Matthew continued, sighing slightly as he washed his hair.
Gunwook could only imagine what he looked like doing so, eyes shut with his nails pleasantly scratching his scalp. At least that’s all he could gather from the way he washed his hair, stretching his body and allowing the hot water to wash over his short but muscular frame. His eyes unconsciously scanned the shadow of his entire body. Strong biceps, pecs, thighs…
Ogling. Gunwook was ogling at the shape of Matthew’s body through the curtain.
He shook his head, whispering to himself, “You hate me, too.” Gunwook brought his eyes back up to where Matthew’s head was, like he was talking to his face, “This is different, okay? I’m apologizing because I hurt you.” His voice felt raw, husky as he spoke.
Matthew’s shadow stopped moving for a second, pausing as he processed the statement. Then, he scoffed again, rinsing out his shampoo, “You mean because you physically hurt me? Gunwook, you’ve been hurting me emotionally for months how is this any different—“
“It is!” Gunwook cut him off, “It just is.”
How he wasn’t getting it, Gunwook didn’t know. Their dislike was mutual, their emotional hurt and rude words were mutual, but bruises… Black and blue, purple and nasty green undertones, that wasn’t mutual.
Matthew might have tripped him, kicked him and waited to watch him tumble to the floor, but he never genuinely hurt him. There was no soreness, no bruising, no pain from that. It freaked him out at first, sure, but he still got right back up on his feet with no issue. It was more of an inconvenience than anything. An inconvenience he might’ve taken a bit too personally.
But the man’s bruised wrist wasn’t only an inconvenience, it was an injury. Even as he washed his hair, arms up and hands running through the wet locks, it was obvious from how he moved that he was trying to put as little pressure on his wrist as possible. The pain didn’t go away like Gunwook’s imbalance did. It lingered, affecting his every move.
Gunwook sighed, “I never wanted to hurt you like that, Matthew. Just because we don’t like each other doesn’t mean I want you to be in pain, I…” He scrunched his face as he spoke, cringing at his own words while trying to find the best ones to use, “I hate hurting people.”
The sound of water hitting the shower tile was suddenly louder in his mind than before, Matthew frozen in the shower. He stood still, his head angled at the floor.
The younger could only hope he got his point across.
“As much as I’d like to get you to believe me, I can’t control whether you do or not,” Gunwook raised his hands like a guilty man, “But I can tell you I have enough respect for you to not want to hurt you like that.”
“Respect?”
“Yes, respect.”
Gunwook could already see where this was going. The two lacked respect for one another and had for a while, taking low blows and spitting insults. Respect wasn’t a word for their relationship. It was void from their connection, lost in a sea of vitriol.
Matthew was probably gearing up to spit the word back in his face, to laugh at the idea of respect in their dynamic. Which was well deserved all things considered. They’d end up in an awful back and forth, Gunwook trying to defend his use of the term while Matthew rebutted every last point.
It was what they did, after all. Argued and fought, both believing they were in the right and that they were the better of the two. It only made sense that was the next logical place things would go.
Park Gunwook, however, forgot that logic didn’t always have a place in the world.
The curtain to the shower flew open, the deafening sound of metal rings on a metal rod sending goosebumps up his arms.
There stood Matthew, naked and soaked as rivulets of water followed the contours of his body on their journey down. Each tattoo on his body popped vibrantly on his skin, cherry blossoms scattered up his waist and the branch holding them together delicately wrapped around his ribcage.
Gunwook’s line of sight naturally scanned his entire body, pausing every once in a while as they landed on perky nipples, toned muscles, a perfect waist, and a thin happy trail leading to…
He instantly snapped his eyes back to the older’s face, trying his hardest not to look at Matthew’s dick. But it was like trying not to look at a car crash, nearly impossible. No, that wasn’t quite accurate given the state of the man’s body, it was more like trying not to look at a Ferrari as it casually drove by, demanding attention.
They made eye contact, Matthew staring at him with furrowed eyebrows as if he was lost in his thoughts. It felt like he was staring into his soul, trying to dissect his every last intention as if he could read his mind.
Before he knew it, Matthew was waltzing over to him, leaving a trail of watery footprints and small puddles behind him. He parked himself right in front of Gunwook, craning his neck up to maintain his eye contact with him. The contact he didn’t break even as he walked over to him, not blinking once.
Suddenly the room felt tense. It had been before this, but this type of tension felt different… Inappropriate in a way.
With the same intense eye contact Matthew dared not break, he questioned with a blank stare, “You respect me now?”
The question was innocent enough, a simple display of curiosity. It didn’t have that same hostility Matthew normally held in his tone toward Gunwook, nor did it feel defensive. It was a simple question.
But with the naked man inches away from him all of a sudden, the question sent a rush of blood through Gunwook’s body. His cheeks flushed quickly while his heartbeat picked up, unsure how to react to the situation before him.
Gunwook swallowed, finding the courage to respond while trying his best to hold that eye contact, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
The reply came out weak, strained in his throat.
Matthew shook his head, “No, you said you don’t want to hurt me because you respect me.” He tilted his head to the side like a dog, “Or did you not mean that?”
The younger’s eyes widened, his own statement backing him into a corner. If he said he didn’t mean it, Matthew would disregard everything he had said. He needed Matthew to believe him, to come back to the practice room so they could finish what they were doing and fix the issues with the choreo they had. If he said he did, however, their whole dynamic was sure to change.
He didn’t respect him, but after hurting him the way he did… Gunwook realised his disrespect was not as deep-seated as he thought.
With a deep breath in, Gunwook sighed, “I did mean it.”
Silence filled the air between them for a moment. Matthew kept staring at him, looking deeply into his eyes.
Then, with conviction like a man on a mission, the Canadian spoke.
“Then call me hyung.”
Hyung. Matthew wanted Gunwook to call him hyung.
It instantly threw him for a loop, his eyebrows raising at the speed of lightning, “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said…” Matthew paused, as if specifically for dramatic effect to keep Gunwook on the edge of his chair. He smirked, his fox-like eyes emphasizing his sly request, “Call me hyung, Gunwook.”
The room was suddenly 10 degrees hotter than before. Gunwook felt his stomach tighten at the notion, his heart practically pounding out of his chest when Matthew moved even closer. The older took one more step toward him, the red heat of his skin hot enough for Gunwook to feel from where he stood.
Maybe it was just the heat from the hot shower, the steam filling the locker room and clouding his mind. Maybe it was the way Matthew looked at him with a shit-eating grin as the water on his skin kept clinging on for dear life. Maybe it was the heat he could feel radiating off the Canadian’s crotch mere inches away, the crotch he was trying his best to forget was right in front of him.
Maybe it was all of them at once. Either way, Gunwook felt his face pale upon the realization that his body was reacting to the situation before him.
Gunwook swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Matthew, “Why would I do that?” He chuckled nervously, staring at one of the empty showers with intensity. He couldn’t look at Matthew right now, he needed to calm down, needed to sort out whatever was going on with him.
“Because you respect me.” Matthew cheekily replied, “And respectful dongsaengs call me hyung…” He carefully lifted a hand and took hold of Gunwook’s chin, gently guiding his line of sight back to him before letting his hand drop, “Or oppa, but I won’t push my luck today.”
The older tilted his head as he stared at Gunwook, glancing up with the most devious expression he could muster. It was an expression Gunwook had become familiar with, the same one Matthew sent his way after he got praised over him. The same one the older wore when Gunwook got tore apart, read for filth online and critiqued to all hell by the dance snobs of Seoul.
The expression that said I’m winning.
Because it was a game to him. Of course it was, everything had always been just a game to Matthew. A game to beat Gunwook in rather than to win overall, a game that let him watch the younger fall apart before him. A game he relished in.
But the glint in his eyes, the odd shimmer in his dilated pupils, that wasn’t the same as usual. That wasn’t part of his game, that was something new. Something Gunwook couldn’t quite dissect the meaning of.
“Just call me hyung once and I’ll let all of this go.”
Matthew was using Gunwook’s desperation to get what he wanted. He wanted to see Gunwook succumb to him and call him hyung, to submit and look up to him rather than down. To come out on top and relish in Gunwook’s humiliation.
Gunwook didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to lose to the man he constantly fought with for the spotlight, but when the opportunity for the spotlight to fight over could be ripped away if they didn’t put their minds together and get this shit sorted out…
He practically had no choice.
He couldn’t fight himself for the spotlight, he needed the motivation beating Matthew gave him. He needed Matthew to stay on the team. If giving Matthew what he wanted was the only way, then so be it.
Gunwook sighed, taking his eyes off him again to muster the courage he needed, “Hyung… ”
The younger nearly whispered the word, trying to get it all over with. If he was lucky, he’d be able to leave the locker room as soon as possible while Matthew finished his shower so he could calm down and so his body could calm down.
He shouldn’t be as hot as he was right now. He shouldn’t be half hard in his sweatpants, shouldn’t be sweating just from Matthew’s proximity to him. Matthew shouldn’t have this effect on him.
Matthew smirked, “I don’t think I heard you correctly, what did you say?”
Why was he dragging this on for so long?
“Matthew-hyung .” Gunwook closed his eyes, tilting his head to the ceiling as he repeated himself slightly louder.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at him, couldn’t let Matthew see just how affected he was by the man. He didn’t know how Matthew would react if he saw, if he noticed the tent slowly forming in his pants.
It seemed, however, that that wasn’t enough for him.
The older reached for Gunwook’s hair, raking his hand through the locks before gripping his hair and forcing his head back down, “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Gunwook-ah.” His gaze was intense, unwavering as he demanded him, “Say it again. Clearly .”
Gunwook could feel his chest constricting, suddenly aware of how hard it was getting for him to breathe. He panted in the man’s hold, taking in Matthew’s expression.
Matthew held onto his hair tightly with a grin playing on his lips, the lips Gunwook unconsciously found his eyes landing on. The lips Matthew used to insult and berate him, to degrade him for months. The lips he was using to command Gunwook respect him, to force Gunwook to submit to him for once. The lips that were getting closer and closer to his own.
They both leaned in slowly, panting in unison. Then, with a desperation he had never heard in his own voice, Gunwook spoke clearly in a low whine.
“Matthew-hyung…”
Before he knew it, their lips were crashing into one another with the intensity of a thousand suns. Gunwook moaned into the kiss, his hands moving to hold Matthew’s decorated waist of their own volition.
While Matthew’s kiss was rough, overpowering as he pulled Gunwook by his hair and manipulated his every move, his lips were nothing of the sort. His lips were plump, lightly chapped but somehow still incredibly soft. They held a certain dichotomy with his attitude toward the younger, the soft lips enveloping Gunwook’s bottom lip as Matthew moved to bite it like a starving man.
His grip on Matthew’s waist grew firmer, desperate for some control of his own. Gunwook’s boxers felt tighter by the second, getting harder as Matthew’s grip on his hair got rougher.
Matthew tugged on his hair as he slowly backed away, taking Gunwook with him. He led the two past a wall of steam, backing into the shower and sighing at the feeling of the hot water washing over him again.
Gunwook didn’t even notice the water at first, letting the hot water wash over him the same way it did Matthew. Streams of water followed the contours of Matthew’s naked body, running over the hand in Gunwook’s hair and over the hands he rested on Matthew’s waist as if the two were permanently connected.
The sound of wet clothing hitting the shower wall partially broke Gunwook out of his daze, opening his eyes as their lips disconnected. Matthew stood before him, hand still gripping his hair while he pressed the younger into the wall. He held himself up with his other hand on the side, pinning Gunwook as he panted to catch his breath.
With the slightest slack in Matthew’s grip, Gunwook tipped his head back and sighed loudly at the ceiling, moaning at the feeling of Matthew’s grip tightening to force him to look back at him again.
The younger’s black locks were soaked now, clinging to the crooks of Matthew’s fingers. His clothing clung close to him, outlining every muscle, crevice, nipple, and bulge of his body. Not one inch of him was properly covered anymore, the thin wet fabric only covering so much.
The moment Matthew’s eyes raked over his body, his gaze paused at the tent in his soaked sweatpants. He huffed in amusement, a smirk playing on his lips as he instantly looked back up and teased him, “Aww, how cute…”
The sound of his condescending voice brought a glare to Gunwook’s face, annoyance taking over. With narrowed eyes, he finally brought himself to look down at the one thing he had tried his best to not make eye contact with.
Mirroring his own situation, Matthew’s cock stood at attention, erect with a pearl of pre-cum beading at the tip. It curved slightly upward, as if pointed directly at him. Sneering, Gunwook looked back up, “Look who's talking, hypocrite.”
The smile of Matthew’s face was wiped clean, replaced with a glare. The older yanked Gunwook back down to his level by the hair, sliding his tongue through the crack in his lips and forcing it down his throat.
Matthew pressed his body closer to Gunwook’s, their chests colliding while he licked deeper into his mouth, his bare leg spreading Gunwook’s thighs apart. He let his arm on the wall fall, leaning onto Gunwook’s chest for all his support, then brought his uninjured hand to the bulge of the younger’s pants before he cupped his erection roughly.
Gunwook pathetically whined into the kiss, his jaw going slack as the older palmed his clothed cock. He leaned into the touch, chasing any kind of stimulation he could get.
Ripping his lips off Gunwook’s, Matthew backed away and smirked at the scene before him. Gunwook rutted against his hand like a bitch in heat, desperate for touch. “You’re so hard, Gunwook-ah…” He smiled smugly, “I think I like you better when you aren’t talking, just humping my hand like a dog.”
Rather than allow him to respond verbally, Matthew squeezed him harder, pulling another loud moan from Gunwook’s throat. He fondled his bulge, watching the younger’s reactions with intensity.
“F-fuck…” Gunwook whimpered, letting his hands drift to Matthew’s hips as he leaned forward. He rested his forehead on his shoulder, sighing as Matthew adjusted the hold on his hair to press his face into his skin more.
Matthew reached for the waistband of Gunwook’s pants, pausing for a second or two before he shoved his hand in. His small hand bullied its way into his boxers, taking a rough hold of his cock and stroking it slowly, teasingly. As if he didn’t run to grab Gunwook’s cock, he squeezed him and hummed.
“You’re bigger than I thought you’d be.” Matthew hummed, “At least you have something going for you. It’s a shame really,” Matthew pulled his cock out of his boxers and pants, licking his lips at the sight, “you act like a dick so much you probably don’t even know how to actually use yours right.” He sneered, pumping Gunwook and rolling his thumb over the tip.
The younger’s cock was thick and girthy with a good amount of length to it, heavy in Matthew’s hand. With so much cock to work with, however, Gunwook was a lot more sensitive to touch than most. He was someone who came fast and came a lot, quick to finish in comparison to his past partners. Even now, he could feel his climax already creeping closer and closer.
But he refused to cum before Matthew. The fucker would tease him for ages, never let him forget it. No, he’d make sure Matthew came first.
Gunwook opened his mouth, taking the flesh of the Canadians shoulder in it and biting it as if to silence him. He bit him roughly, growling like an animal instead of responding to the insults. He reached for Matthew’s cock quickly, instantly pumping his cock and following the natural curve of it.
Matthew stuttered in the middle of his insults, groaning at the flick of Gunwook’s wrist. Both stroked each other's cocks, water alone not nearly enough to properly lubricate them. The drag was dry, the friction rough and nearly too much as they worked faster, fighting to have the rougher pace to make the other climax first.
Licking the skin of his shoulder, Gunwook bit and sucked Matthew like a starving man. He left kiss after kiss, hickey after hickey in his wake, bruising Matthew’s body even more. A constellation of bruises decorated his collarbone, tender to the touch.
They jacked each other off like it was another competition to them. Gunwook stroked Matthew rough and fast, his wrist flicking sharply as he left sharp teeth marks in his skin, the smallest traces of blood leaving a metallic taste on his tongue.
Matthew pumped Gunwook quickly, yet smoothly at the same time. His hold on him was rough and tight, but his wrist flicked in smooth circles, manipulating the younger’s cock as if it was his dance partner. He stroked from the base of his shaft, fondling his balls, to the head, rubbing precum over his tip.
Even now, with Gunwook’s cock in his hand and a tight coil in his gut, he still had to act better than him. He still had to look at Gunwook like he was below him, like he should be kissing the floor he walked on. He still had to win.
But with the pathetic sounds coming from Matthew now, it didn’t seem like he was winning at all.
Gunwook detached himself from his shoulder, leaning back against the shower wall and licking his inner cheek. A smirk came to his face, admiring how Matthew fell apart in his hold. He took his other hand off the man’s hip, moving to press down on the hickeys he left and inhaling sharply at the way Matthew tightened his grip on his hair again.
He smiled smugly just like Matthew had, “Maybe you were right, I like seeing you shut up for once.” Gunwook leaned his lower half closer to Matthew, watching his cock be pumped right next to Matthew’s, “If I can shut you up with just my hand, I wonder what I can get done with my cock.”
Matthew groaned, “You wouldn’t be able to get shit done, you’re—“ He was cut off by his own moan, twitching in Gunwook’s hand, “You’re already about t’cum.”
“So are you.” Gunwook quipped, “So worked up over a small handjob, H-hyung-ah.”
At the sound of the nickname on Gunwook’s trembling, puffy lips, Matthew moaned, directing the length in his hand to be side by side with his own. He tried to wrap his hand over the both of them, his fingers too short to even hold them both properly.
The raw skin of their cocks were hot and red, sensitive as they made contact with each other. Gunwook’s hand instinctively adjusted to hold his own length as well, dwarfing Matthew’s hand as the two began pumping in unison.
They whined as one, foreheads crashing into each other as they stared down, mesmerized by their joint pleasure. The two slowly started to fuck their hands, rubbing their cocks together as they chased release.
Matthew looked into Gunwook’s eyes intensely, “S-say it again.”
“Shit…”
They increased their pace, thrusting quickly as their moans raised in pitch.
The older panted, “C-call me hyung,” he begged, “S-say it Gunwook…” Matthew subconsciously switched to a mix of English and Korean, losing track of his words as his pleasure consumed him, “Fucking say it.”
Gunwook whined, “Hyung …”
Everything felt tight and warm, like his entire body was on fire. Gunwook could feel himself getting closer and closer, trying his hardest to hold out. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, almost too good to be true.
Matthew dropped his jaw, his moans disconnected by his heavy panting. He cursed as Gunwook reached behind him, grabbing one of his ass cheeks and assisting his thrusts with a harsh grip on the flesh.
He leaned forward and bit the first expanse of skin he could get his mouth on, his nails digging into the younger’s scalp as his thrusts began to stutter. Matthew whimpered, the skin of Gunwook’s collarbone in his mouth, “Gunwookie…”
The way Matthew whined his name, burying his teeth into his skin, the two manhandling and controlling each other in perfect unison, it was pure eroticism.
The man who needed to be better than him, who needed to tear him down so he could rise to the top, thrusting erratically into their joint hands. Panting, biting him like he was trying to shut himself up. Chasing his pleasure just like Gunwook was— pathetically.
Matthew fucked his hand like he hadn’t felt such intense pleasure before, like he couldn’t get enough. He gripped his hair, bit his flesh, flexed his ass, he let his body and desire take control. At that moment, his hatred only made it all the more satisfying. Watching his rival who he cursed and insulted on the daily desperate for release, whimpering his name, begging him to call him his hyung, practically crying for his respect. It was all too much at once.
“Hyung! ” Gunwook moaned loudly, his thrusts turning short and quick as he felt his climax take hold of him, whining “Hyung… Matthew-hyung…” repeatedly.
Gunwook came with his hyung’s name on his lips, moving his hips and pumping his cock through his orgasm. He gripped Matthew’s ass harder, painting Matthew’s length in white and staining him with his own pleasure.
His release dripped off Matthew’s cock in globs, plopping to the shower floor only to be washed away immediately. It covered the entire length, sticky and slick. Moving back, he took a hold of it, stroking him quickly while using his own cum as a lubricant.
He held the older’s hand, manipulating it and dwarfing it as he stroked his cock, gripping his ass and assisting the man’s thrusts.
Matthew mumbled, “Fuck, fuck, fuck," whipping his head back and closing his eyes tightly. The warmth of the fresh cum combined with the rough strokes sent him over the edge, spilling his release all over his rival's clothes. He sighed, “Gunwookie…”
Gunwook stroked him through his climax, milking his cock and watching as Matthew’s seed stained his sweatpants and streaked his hand. He kept going until he couldn’t anymore, smirking when Matthew writhed from overstimulation and swatted his hand away.
As the two came down from their high, they breathed heavily, trying to catch their breath. They were soaked in water and sweat, the smell of sex taking over the shower stall and invading their senses. Everything suddenly felt calmer, like the ending instrumental of an intense song.
With clarity taking over, Gunwook suddenly regretted not stripping himself ahead of time, his clothes clinging to him uncomfortably. He tucked his length back into his boxers, cringing at the wet fabric sticking to him.
When he looked back up, he was faced with the most mischievous grin Matthew had ever worn, cheekily taunting him, “I knew you’d cum first,” Matthew mocked him, already back to the usual banter, “You’ve always been too quick for your own good.”
It was like nothing had happened or changed, like jacking each other off in the showers was a casual occurrence for them. Matthew didn’t suddenly view Gunwook differently, he still looked down on him. He still mocked him, still insulted him for fun. He just… found another way to do that.
Gunwook squinted, glaring at him as if his hand wasn’t still attached to his ass cheek, “You begged me to call you hyung and came right after while crying my name.”
“I don’t think I remember that,” Matthew smirked, “All I can remember is you whining for your hyung before you came all over my dick. Which, by the way,” He looked down at his softening cock, still covered in Gunwook’s seed, “What the fuck are you eating to cum that much? It’s fucking everywhere—“ He scoffed, disgusted.
With an evil grin on his face, Gunwook reached down and ran his finger over the cum on Matthew’s length, lifting his finger to the man’s face, “No clue, let’s see if you can taste it.”
Matthew scrunched his face in disgust, finally backing away and letting go of Gunwook’s hair, “Ew! Get that shit away from me!”
“You asked.” The younger grinned, reaching for the most concentrated stream of the shower head to rinse their release off his hand.
The short man rolled his eyes, reaching for his washcloth and running it under the water before using it to clean the cum off of him, “Can you get out now so I can actually shower?”
Without waiting for an answer, Matthew started to push Gunwook out of the shower, grabbing the curtain and closing it to shut him out of the wet environment.
“Matthew, wait.” He reached for the curtain and opened it again, standing awkwardly as he couldn’t help but stare at the man’s naked body again. He was flushed red from head to toe, hickeys forming on his twitching body after his intense orgasm.
Matthew shut the curtain again, moving to cover his entire body and only allowing his head to peek out, as if Gunwook hadn’t just seen and touched his naked body, “Okay now you’re being greedy,” He deadpanned, “You just got off, what else could you want?”
“You said if I called you hyung you’d let everything go, right?” Gunwook questioned, folding his arms, “And I did so…” He looked off to the side for a moment, trying to hide his nervousness.
After everything they did, surely Matthew would forgive him, right? They could just move on like nothing happened, pretend Gunwook didn’t hurt him and pretend they didn’t do… all of that.
Gunwook still wanted to get this dance done, get everything sorted out properly before either of them left. He needed to have no doubt in his mind that Matthew wouldn’t just leave him again, like he originally intended to. He needed to make sure they were going to actually get this shit finished tonight and have everything ready for tomorrow.
He felt a bit calmer now, a bit less unsure of what was to come. Maybe that was a result of his orgasm, maybe it wasn’t. He couldn’t tell. All he knew now was that there was still work to be done.
And still actions to hopefully be excused and forgiven.
Hurting Matthew was genuinely something he regretted, it was why he still felt a little nervous waiting for a response. He was pretty sure his apology was good and he thinks it was well-received, but he needed that last bit of anxiety to be gone.
A handjob seemed like a good way to apologize, Matthew already seemed way more tolerable to be around once he came. Matthew definitely enjoyed it, that had to mean something. That had to help his case at least a little bit.
Sure, it sounded kinda fucked up when he thought of it that way. But what better way is there to show your respect to someone than to give them pleasure?
Matthew groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes, “Oh my god , just get out of here and we can finish the dance when I’m done.” With a red face, he shut the curtain quickly, indirectly soothing Gunwook’s worries.
Gunwook found a satisfied smile creeping its way to his lips.
Matthew was still his annoying self like before, but somehow more subdued, more manageable. Gunwook could even feel how his own irritability was a lot less present than normal around the man. Everything felt… calmer somehow.
He turned toward the exit, only to instantly cringe at the feeling of moving in soaked clothing. The soaked clothing he completely forgot about. The soaked clothing stained with Matthew’s cum.
Gunwook groaned, realizing he had to go back to the practice room to grab a change of clothes from his bag. Great.
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