Chapter Text
The thing about Jun and Dylan was that they were never supposed to get along.
Dylan had arrived at the company six months after him, fresh off a plane from America with gray bleached hair, his Thai rusty enough that he'd stuttered through introductions. Jun had watched him fumble through their first practice together, switching between English, Thai, and Mandarin mid-sentence, and thought: Great. Another one.
Except Dylan wasn't another one, he was infuriating.
He was a natural musician in a way that made Jun jealous. His rap flow was flawless, switching between languages mid-verse like it was nothing, even when he barely knew how to talk properly, his rhythm and delivery were sharp enough to cut. He produced his own beats in the tiny studio space they had access to, staying up until 3 AM tweaking sounds that already sounded perfect to everyone else. His lyrics were clever, layered with wordplay that worked in multiple languages, and he'd argue with their coaches about arrangements and production choices as he knew better. The worst part was that he usually did know better.
He could dance too, picked up choreography faster than most of them, but it was obvious that music was where he lived, where he was truly exceptional. He was quiet and reserved with everyone else, but with Jun, he was sharp-tongued and stubborn.
"You're counting wrong," Dylan said one afternoon.
Jun stopped mid-movement, breathing hard. "I'm not counting wrong."
"You are. You're rushing the second eight-count." Dylan didn't even look at him, just adjusted his position in the mirror. "Again."
"I've been doing this choreography for two years-"
"And you've been doing it wrong for two years." Dylan finally met his eyes in the mirror, and there was something challenging in his gaze. "Again."
Jun wanted to throw something at him. Instead, he ran the choreography again, and Dylan was right, and that made it worse.
They bickered constantly. About technique, about song choices, about who left the practice room a mess, about everything and nothing. The other trainees learned to leave them alone when they started, letting them snipe at each other until one of them stormed off.
But there was something else underneath it. Something that made Jun's skin prickle when Dylan corrected his posture, hands firm on Jun's hips. Something that made Dylan's jaw tighten when Jun stood too close during water breaks, sweat-slick and smirking.
It was attraction, raw and undeniable, and they both pretended it wasn't there.
──── ୨ৎ ────
The night it happened, they'd stayed late after practice. Again. They did that sometimes, the others would leave, and Jun and Dylan would keep working, pushing each other harder than any trainer ever could. It was a kinda symbiotic relationship, the push and pull actually making them improve.
"You're still hesitating on the turn," Jun said, watching Dylan run through the sequence for the dozenth time.
"I'm not hesitating-"
"You are. You don't commit. It's like you're scared you'll fall."
Dylan stopped, breathing hard, and glared at him. "I'm not scared."
"Then prove it."
Dylan's eyes flashed, and he ran it again, throwing himself into the turn with enough force that Jun could see the exact moment his body found the balance, the momentum, the perfection of it.
When Dylan finished, he was breathing harder, his grey hair falling into his eyes, and Jun felt something hot and tight coil in his chest.
"Better," Jun said, and his voice came out rougher than he intended.
Dylan stared at him for a long moment, and the air between them felt thick, electric.
"There's liquor in the storage room," Dylan said finally. "One of the older trainees hid it there."
They shouldn't have. They had practice again in eight hours, and they were both exhausted, but Jun found himself nodding.
They sat on the practice room floor, passing the bottle back and forth, and the bickering softened into something almost comfortable. Dylan's Thai smoothed out when he was tipsy, his words flowing more easily, and Jun found himself watching the way Dylan's throat moved when he swallowed.
"You're not as terrible as I thought you'd be," Dylan said, leaning back against the mirror.
"Wow. High praise."
"I'm serious." Dylan's eyes were slightly unfocused, but his gaze was direct. "When I first got here, I thought you'd be... I don't know. An asshole."
"I am an asshole."
"Yeah, but not in the way I expected." Dylan took another sip. "You push people because you care. You want everyone to be better."
Jun didn't know what to say to that, so he took the bottle back and drank.
"You're not terrible either," Jun said eventually. "For someone who'd never danced before."
"I didn't say I'd never danced."
"You said you weren't a dancer."
"That's different." Dylan shifted closer, and Jun could smell his shampoo, something clean and faintly sweet, even after practice and hour of sweating."I just... didn't think I could do this. Didn't think it would be good enough for this."
"You're good enough," Jun said, and he meant it.
Dylan looked at him, and something shifted in his expression. His eyes dropped to Jun's mouth, just for a second, and Jun's pulse kicked up.
"Jun," Dylan said, and his voice was quieter now, uncertain.
Jun didn't think. He just moved, closing the distance between them and kissing Dylan hard.
For a second, Dylan froze. Then he kissed back, fierce and hungry, his hands fisting in Jun's shirt. The almost empty bottle tipped over, forgotten, as Jun pushed Dylan back against the mirror, their mouths crashing together with months of tension finally breaking free.
Dylan made a sound against Jun's mouth, half gasp, half moan, and Jun felt it all the way down his spine.
"We shouldn't." Dylan started, but Jun kissed him again, swallowing the words.
"Tell me to stop," Jun said against Dylan's lips.
Dylan pulled him closer instead.
──── ୨ৎ ────
They stumbled to the storage room, hands already pulling at each other's clothes, mouths never breaking apart for long. Dylan's back hit the door as Jun kicked it closed behind them, and the sound of the lock clicking felt impossibly loud in the small space.
"This is stupid," Dylan gasped between kisses, but his hands were already tugging at Jun's shirt, pulling it up and over his head with clumsy urgency.
"So stupid," Jun agreed, his fingers working at Dylan's belt, fumbling with the buckle because he couldn't stop kissing Dylan long enough to look at what he was doing.
The storage room was cramped and dark, smelling of cleaning supplies and old equipment, but neither of them cared. Jun pressed Dylan harder against the wall, one hand braced beside Dylan's head, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise. He kissed down Dylan's neck, biting at the junction where neck met shoulder just to hear the way Dylan's breath hitched, the small wounded sound he made in the back of his throat.
Dylan's fingers dug into Jun's shoulders, blunt nails scraping against skin, his head falling back against the wall and exposing the long line of his throat. Jun took advantage immediately, sucking a mark into the pale skin, dark enough that Dylan would have to cover it for days.
"Jun-" Dylan's voice was already wrecked, rough and breathy in a way Jun had never heard before.
"What?" Jun pulled back just enough to look at him, and fuck, the sight made his cock throb. Dylan's grey hair was a complete mess from Jun's fingers running through it, his lips were swollen and slick and red from kissing, and Jun could help but ask himself if they were always so plump and pink and why he just didn't notice before. His eyes were dark, pupils blown so wide there was barely any color left. His chest was heaving with each breath, and Jun could see his pulse jumping in his throat. "Changed your mind?"
"No," Dylan said, and pulled Jun back into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperation, their mouths crashing together like they were trying to devour each other.
Jun finally got Dylan's belt undone and shoved his hand down the front of Dylan's pants, wrapping his fingers around Dylan's cock. Dylan made a sound against Jun's mouth, half moan, half whimper, and his hips jerked forward into Jun's touch involuntarily.
"Fuck," Dylan gasped, breaking the kiss to breathe, his forehead pressed against Jun's. "Jun, fuck-"
"You're so desperate already," Jun murmured, squeezing lightly and feeling Dylan twitch in his hand. "How long have you been like this?"
"I'm- fuck." Dylan's voice broke when Jun stroked him.
“You what?”
"I don't know, fuck, just- please-"
Jun pulled his hand back, and Dylan made a sound of protest, but then Jun was yanking Dylan's shirt over his head, his hands immediately going to Dylan's bare skin. He pushed Dylan back against the wall and kissed down his chest, biting at his collarbone, sucking another mark into the soft skin just above Dylan's nipple where no one would see it under their stage costumes.
Dylan's hands were in Jun's hair, gripping tight, and when Jun's tongue circled one of his nipples, Dylan's whole body jerked like he'd been electrocuted.
"Oh fuck," Dylan breathed, and Jun did it again just to feel Dylan tremble.
Jun kissed and bit his way down Dylan's torso, mapping his body with his mouth, the lean muscle of his stomach, the sharp jut of his hipbones, amazed by how small Dylan's waist was, how delicate he was inside his hoodies and loose shirts. He dropped to his knees and looked up at Dylan as he worked the button of Dylan's jeans open, dragged the zipper down slowly, watching Dylan's face the whole time.
Dylan was staring down at him with wide eyes, his chest heaving, one hand still tangled in Jun's hair and the other pressed flat against the wall like he needed the support to stay upright.
Jun pulled Dylan's jeans and underwear down in one motion, and Dylan's cock sprang free, hard and flushed and already leaking. It was pretty, Jun thought distantly. Dylan was pretty everywhere.
"Jun," Dylan said, and his voice was shaking. "You don't have to…"
Jun leaned forward and licked a slow stripe up the underside of Dylan's member from base to tip, and whatever Dylan was going to say dissolved into a broken moan.
"I want to," Jun said, looking up at Dylan through his lashes.
He took Dylan into his mouth without warning, and Dylan's hips jerked forward. Jun grabbed Dylan's hips, holding him still against the wall, and took him deeper, relaxing his throat and swallowing around him.
"Oh," Dylan gasped, both hands flying to Jun's hair now, gripping so tight it almost hurt. "Jun, oh my god, Jun."
After some time, Jun pulled off slowly, letting Dylan's cock slide out of his mouth with an obscene wet sound, then licked at the head, tongue dipping into the slit and tasting the precum leaking steadily now. Dylan was trembling, his thighs shaking, and every time Jun's tongue moved, Dylan made these small, desperate sounds that went straight to his own dick.
Jun took him back in, deeper this time, until Dylan's was hitting the back of his throat. Vocal practice may be forgiven. He swallowed around him, and Dylan made a sound like he was dying.
"Jun, Jun, wait-" Dylan was pulling at his hair, trying to get him to stop. "I'm gonna come if you keep, fuck, it's so good, I can't-"
Jun pulled off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips felt swollen, his jaw slightly sore, and he'd never been so turned on in his life. Dylan looked completely wrecked, his face flushed, sweat beading at his temples, his member shiny and wet from Jun's mouth and his own precum.
"Not yet," Jun said, standing up and kissing Dylan hard enough that Dylan could taste himself on Jun's tongue.
Dylan whimpered into the kiss, his hands scrabbling at Jun's jeans now, getting them open and shoving them down along with his underwear. Jun's dick sprang free, just as hard as Dylan's, and when Dylan wrapped his hand around it, Jun groaned into Dylan's mouth.
"Fuck," Jun breathed. "Dylan-"
"I want you inside me," Dylan said, and his voice was so raw, so honest, that Jun felt it like a physical touch. "Please, Jun, I need- I need you to fuck me."
Jun's brain short-circuited for a second. He actually had imagined this before, late at night when he couldn't sleep, his hand on his cock and Dylan's name on his lips, but he'd never thought it would actually happen.
"Have you done this before?" Jun asked, because he needed to know, needed to make sure he didn't hurt Dylan, even though they were doing this in a storage room with no supplies and no plan.
"Yes," Dylan said. "Not- not a lot, and not in some good time, but yes..."
Jun kissed him again, deep and filthy, and reached between them to wrap his hand around both their cocks, stroking them together. They both moaned at the sensation, the friction, the heat of it.
"Turn around," Jun said roughly.
Dylan did, bracing his hands against the wall, and Jun took a moment just to look at him, the lean lines of his back, the curve of his ass.
Jun ran his hands over Dylan's ass, squeezing, spreading him open. Dylan made a small sound, pressing back into the touch.
"Oh fuck, we don't have anything," Dylan said, whining at the thought of not having what he wanted. "No lube, nothing."
“I will make it work, baby. No need to be whiny.”
Jun groaned, dropping to his knees behind Dylan. He spread Dylan open and leaned in, licking a stripe over his hole, and Dylan cried out, his whole body jerking forward.
"Fuck," Dylan gasped. "Oh my god, Jun."
Jun did it again, slower this time, circling Dylan's rim with his tongue, getting him wet. Dylan was falling apart against the wall, one hand pressed flat against the surface and the other reaching back to grip Jun's hair, holding him in place.
Jun pointed his tongue and pushed inside, and Dylan made a sound Jun had never thought that he was capable of doing, high and desperate and completely gone. Jun fucked him with his tongue, getting him wet and open, and Dylan was grinding back against his face, shameless, needy.
"Please," Dylan was begging now, "please, Jun, I'm ready, I need you inside, please."
Jun slicked up his fingers, the sound obscene in the quiet room, and pressed one against Dylan's hole, circling slowly, teasingly, not pushing in yet.
"Jun," Dylan breathed, his hips shifting restlessly. "Come on-"
"Patience," Jun murmured, still just circling, pressing lightly but not breaching. He was loving this part, the anticipation, the way Dylan's body trembled with want, the way his breathing got faster even though Jun hadn't really done anything yet.
Finally, Jun pressed forward, his index finger sliding inside slowly. Dylan was hot and tight, his body clenching around the intrusion, and Jun paused to let him adjust.
"Okay?" Jun asked, watching Dylan's face.
"Yes," Dylan gasped. "More than okay, just… keep going."
Jun worked his finger slowly, in and out, letting Dylan get used to the sensation. He could feel Dylan's body gradually relaxing, opening up for him, and he crooked his finger slightly, searching.
Dylan made a choked sound when Jun found his prostate, his whole body jerking.
"There it is," Jun said with satisfaction, stroking over again and watching Dylan's cock twitch against his stomach.
"Fuck," Dylan breathed, his hands fisting in the sheets. "Jun, that's-"
Jun did it again, and again, until Dylan was squirming, pushing back onto his finger, completely lost in the sensation. His cock was leaking steadily now, wet, and Jun wanted to taste it again but he was too focused on working Dylan open.
"Ready for more?" Jun asked after a few minutes.
"Yes," Dylan said immediately. "Please, yes,"
Jun pulled his finger out slowly, and Dylan made a sound of protest at the loss. Jun sucked his finger again, generously amounts because he didn't wanted to hurt Dylan, and pressed two fingers against Dylan's hole.
This time, there was more resistance. Dylan's body tensed slightly as Jun pushed both fingers inside, and Jun paused immediately.
"Breathe," Jun said softly. "Relax for me, baby."
Dylan took a shaky breath, and Jun felt him consciously relax his muscles. Jun pushed deeper, slowly, watching Dylan's face the whole time for any sign of discomfort.
"That's it," Jun murmured when his fingers were fully inside. "You're doing so good."
He stayed still for a moment, letting Dylan adjust to the stretch, and then started moving again, slow, careful thrusts that gradually built in speed. He stretched Dylan wider, and Dylan was making these small, desperate sounds with each movement.
"How does that feel?" Jun asked, even though he could see exactly how it felt from the way Dylan's body was responding, from the flush spreading across his cheeks, the clenching around his finger.
"Good," Dylan gasped. "So good, but I need- Oh- need more-"
"Not yet," Jun said, continuing the slow, deliberate pace. "Need to make sure you're ready."
He worked Dylan with two fingers for several minutes, hitting his prostate on every other thrust just to watch Dylan fall apart. Dylan was writhing now, his hips rocking to meet Jun's fingers, his whole body trembling.
"Please," Dylan was begging. "Jun, please, I'm ready, I can take it."
Jun pulled his fingers out, ignoring Dylan's whine of protest, and added more spit. Three fingers now, this was always the hardest part, the biggest stretch.
He pressed all three against Dylan's hole, pushing in slowly, so slowly. Dylan's body resisted at first, it was a lot, three of Jun's long fingers, but a dick would be much bigger, so, it was a must.
"Breathe," Jun reminded him. "Push back against me. Take your time."
Dylan did, bearing down slightly, and Jun felt the moment his body gave way, all three fingers sliding inside. Dylan cried out, a little in pain, but more in overwhelming sensation, and Jun stilled completely, letting him adjust.
"Fuck," Dylan gasped, his whole body shaking. "Oh fuck, Jun, that's…"
"I know," Jun soothed, his free hand stroking Dylan's thigh. "I know, baby. Just breathe. You're taking it so well."
He kept his fingers still for a long moment, just letting Dylan feel the stretch, the fullness. He could feel Dylan's body clenching rhythmically around his fingers, could see the way Dylan's cock was twitching, could hear the harsh pants of Dylan's breathing.
Slowly, carefully, Jun started to move. Small thrusts at first, barely pulling out before pushing back in. Then deeper, longer strokes, stretching Dylan wider with each movement.
"You're so tight," Jun said, almost in awe. "Even with three fingers, you're clenching so hard around me."
He crooked his fingers, finding Dylan's prostate again, and Dylan nearly sobbed at the sensation. The combination of the stretch and the pressure on that perfect spot was overwhelming.
"Jun," Dylan gasped, "I'm so close, if you keep… I'm gonna come just from this."
Jun slowed down, easing the pressure. "Not yet. Want you to come on my cock."
He worked Dylan for several more minutes, stretching him thoroughly, until Dylan was loose and open and begging incoherently. Jun's own cock was aching, hard and leaking, desperate to be inside Dylan, but he made himself be patient. Made sure Dylan was completely ready.
Finally, finally, Jun pulled his fingers out. Dylan whimpered at the loss, his hole clenching around nothing, pink and wet and open.
"Please," Dylan breathed. "Jun, please, I can't wait anymore."
Jun pulled his fingers out and spit into his hand again, slicking up his cock. It wasn't enough, not really, but Dylan was so wet from his mouth and so desperate that Jun thought they could make it work.
He lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing against Dylan's hole, and pushed in slowly.
The sensation was overwhelming. Dylan was so tight, so hot, squeezing around him like a vice. Jun had to pause, gritting his teeth, trying not to come right then and there.
"Oh fuck," Dylan gasped, his whole body tensing. "Oh fuck, Jun, you're so big."
"Relax," Jun said, one hand on Dylan's hip, the other braced against the wall beside Dylan's. "Breathe, baby, just breathe."
Dylan took a shaky breath, and Jun felt him relax slightly. He pushed in deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside Dylan, his hips flush against Dylan's ass.
They both groaned at the sensation.
"Okay?" Jun asked, because even though his brain was melting, even though every instinct was screaming at him to move, to fuck, to take, he needed to know Dylan was okay.
"Yes," Dylan breathed. "Yes. Move, Jun, please move."
Jun pulled out slowly, almost all the way, and then snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep again. Dylan cried out, and Jun did it again, and again, finding a rhythm that had them both gasping.
"Fuck," Jun panted, "you feel so good, Dylan, so fucking good-"
Dylan couldn't form words anymore, just pushed back to meet each thrust, taking Jun deeper. The storage room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, harsh breathing, the wet slide of Jun's cock moving in and out of Dylan's body.
Jun adjusted his angle slightly, and Dylan made a choked sound, his whole body going rigid.
"There," Dylan gasped. "Right there, fuck, Jun, right there-"
Jun hit that spot again and again, and Dylan was falling apart, one hand scrabbling at the wall, the other reaching down to wrap around his own cock.
"Don't," Jun said roughly, grabbing Dylan's wrist and pulling it away. "Don't touch yourself. Want you to come just when I let you."
Dylan whimpered, but he obeyed, both hands back on the wall now, and Jun fucked into him harder, deeper, chasing that spot that made Dylan see stars.
"Jun," Dylan was sobbing now, tears falling, "Jun, I'm so close, I'm gonna- please, I need-"
Jun wrapped one arm around Dylan's waist, pulling him back onto his cock with each thrust, and reached around with his other hand to finally wrap it around Dylan's cock. Dylan was leaking steadily, his cock hard and hot and wet in Jun's hand.
"Come for me," Jun said against Dylan's ear. "Come on, baby, let me feel you."
Jun stroked him once, twice, and Dylan came with a cry he barely managed to muffle by biting down on his own arm. He clenched tight around Jun's cock, pulsing, and that was all it took. Jun buried himself deep and came hard, spilling inside Dylan with a groan. He pressed against Dylan's shoulder. Fuck, they should have used a condom. Whatever.
They stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, Jun's cock still inside Dylan, their bodies pressed together in the small space. Jun could feel Dylan trembling, could feel his own come starting to leak out around his cock.
Slowly, carefully, Jun pulled out. Dylan winced slightly at the loss, and Jun watched, fascinated and a little dazed, as his come dripped out of Dylan's hole, running down the inside of his thigh.
"Fuck," Jun breathed.
Dylan turned around, leaning back against the wall, and they just looked at each other for a moment. Dylan's hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his lips were bitten red, and there were marks blooming all over his neck and chest. He looked completely debauched, and Jun had done that to him.
Reality started to creep back in. They were in a storage room at their company, they'd just fucked against a wall, they still had practice early in the morning, and this changed everything.
"We should clean up," Dylan said finally, his voice rough and carefully neutral.
"Yeah," Jun agreed.
There was a small sink in the corner, and they cleaned up, borrowing a paper towel from the cleaning supplies, in awkward silence, neither quite looking at each other. Jun found his shirt, Dylan adjusted his clothes with a slight wince from the pain in his hip, and the weight of what they'd just done settled between them like something physical.
Jun noticed the marks he'd left on Dylan's body before he put on his shirt and felt a surge of satisfaction that he quickly pushed down.
"This was..." Dylan started, then stopped, like he didn't know how to finish the sentence.
"Yeah," Jun said, not sure what he was agreeing to.
Dylan looked at him finally, his expression unreadable, guarded in a way it hadn't been five minutes ago when he was begging for Jun's dick. "This doesn't have to be weird."
"It's not weird."
"It is a little weird."
"Okay, it's a little weird," Jun admitted. He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly not knowing what to do with them. "But we can just... forget about it. Go back to normal."
Dylan nodded, but something flickered across his face too quickly for Jun to read: hurt, maybe, or disappointment. "Right. Normal. We were drunk, things happened, whatever."
"Exactly," Jun said, and tried to ignore the way his chest felt tight.
"We're still trainees," Dylan said, like he was trying to convince himself. "We can't- this can't be a thing. It would mess everything up."
"I know."
"Okay." Dylan ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix it. "Okay. So we just... pretend this didn't happen."
"Right."
They left the storage room separately, Dylan first, after checking that the hallway was empty, then Jun five minutes later, just to be careful. And the next day at practice, they bickered like always, pushed each other like always, Dylan correcting Jun's timing and Jun telling him he was overthinking the choreography, and they pretended nothing had changed. Dylan was slightly limping, almost unnoticeable for most of them, but a clear reminder to Jun that it wasn't a thing from his own imagination.
Except everything had changed.
Three weeks later, after a particularly brutal practice that had their trainer yelling at all of them for sloppy movements, Jun found himself alone with Dylan in the practice room again. The others had already left, exhausted and frustrated, but they had stayed to practice more, feeling like it wasn't enough.
The air between them felt charged, electric. Dylan was wiping down his sweat, and Jun was pretending to look through his bag for his water bottle that he knew wasn't there, and neither of them was acknowledging the fact that they kept glancing at each other.
Finally, Dylan stopped, setting down the cloth, and turned to look at Jun directly.
The look he gave Jun was loaded with memory, with want, with the knowledge of exactly what they could do to each other. Jun could see the moment Dylan's mind went back to that night, his pupils dilated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
"We said it was a one-time thing," Dylan said, but he didn't move away when Jun crossed the practice room toward him.
"We did," Jun agreed, backing Dylan up against the mirror.
"This is a bad idea," Dylan breathed, but his hands were already coming up to Jun's chest, fingers curling into his shirt.
"Terrible idea," Jun murmured, leaning in close enough that their lips were almost touching. "The worst."
Dylan's breath hitched. "We agreed-"
"I know what we agreed," Jun said, and kissed him.
Dylan kissed back immediately, hungrily, like he'd been waiting for it, like he'd been thinking about it every day for the past three weeks, just like Jun had.
And that was how it started, this thing between them that was never supposed to happen, that they told themselves didn't mean anything, that they promised would be the last time every single time until it happened again.
Fuck buddies. Nothing more.
Just attraction, just convenience, just two people who were good in bed together, and nothing else.
At least, that's what Jun told himself.
Dylan, secretly falling a little more each time Jun touched him, told himself the same lie and tried very hard to believe it.