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A touch. It’s brief, unassuming. A light slap on Euijoo’s knee as Nicholas laughs. Their eyes meet for a brief second before Nicholas looks away first, back to the phone camera. Euijoo schools his features as best as he can. Balls his hands into fists on his thighs, just out of frame. There’s delirium at the edges of his smiles, in the room in itself, as they grow more and more tired. Euijoo’s eyes drag down towards Nicholas’ ass when Nicholas dances for the camera, bent forward so he can smile down at Luné watching him.
It’s fine. Euijoo is crackling with electricity inside, chest caving in when Nicholas starts shifting his hips, ends up lifting them to push his shirt back down his jeans. They’re still on camera, but it’s like he’s forgotten about that. Restless, the more sluggish Maki becomes. Euijoo won’t admit to anyone that he takes any opportunity he has to touch Nicholas, leaning into his space only to watch Nicholas lean away with a grin. Euijoo reads the expression as a little nervous. It excites him.
They’ve been doing this forever. The back and forth, push and pull. Nicholas flirts like he breathes, demands attention and compliments and none of them quite matter as much as Euijoo’s. Euijoo laughs with nerves in his tone and pushes Nicholas back, needing the space between them. Or at least he did. For years, he did, establishing boundaries that Nicholas never fully crossed. He toed the line, but kept it at that. Hawaii changed something between them. The line blurred for Euijoo, shifted a little.
It’s only been made worse in LA. They’ve been so busy all year, going from comeback to tour to variety shows, plane on plane on plane, skyrocketing forward, so Euijoo put the line at the back of his mind, like an elastic band. But in LA it came right back, pinging back to the forefront. They flirt in front of fans–Euijoo can’t take the motion Nicholas made at him when he lost rock, paper, scissors out of his mind. They have so much fun, on stage and off. Euijoo isn’t sure if it’s the LA air or the relative freedom they have there, but he dares to be bolder. Nicholas preens under the attention, allowing himself to show his goofier side more often, just as excited as he was in Taiwan. There’s a childlike quality to him when he’s this comfortable, and Euijoo wants to soak it up. He wants to learn from it.
And it continues, even when they land in Kuala Lumpur. Now Euijoo’s the one toeing the line, and he finds that he doesn’t want to stop. Nicholas moves back when Euijoo leans in during the live, but his eyes flash when they meet Euijoo’s. Later, he’s manhandling Euijoo, hands on his waist, hands on his wrist, hands on his knees.
Euijoo wishes he’d put on shorts.
Maki falls asleep on the hotel room floor, and Nicholas giggles as they rouse him as gently as they can. They’re still live, but they finally end it when Maki can’t keep his eyes open. Jo slips out quietly as ever, while Nicholas helps Maki to bed in the next room. Euijoo focuses his thrumming energy into cleaning up their mess, trying to set the suite’s living room back to rights before he leaves. He thinks this is where things end tonight. The game is over for today.
He’s about to leave the room, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to stop thinking about how good Nicholas looked with his hair done off of his forehead, with the fake cut on his cheek and his makeup starting to smudge around the eyes, when Nicholas reappears, the bedroom door clicking softly behind him. He smiles at Euijoo, raises an eyebrow.
“Want to keep going?”
Euijoo blinks. “The live?” He doesn’t want to go back live right now. Right now, he wants to be selfish. He fists his hands in the hem of his polo shirt, tugging down at it.
Nicholas grins, the crooked, smug one that is so attractive it makes blood rush out of Euijoo’s brain. “No, just hanging out. Just you and me.”
Euijoo’s mouth opens in a little ‘O’ shape. Maybe the game isn’t quite over yet. He nods before Nicholas thinks he’s not interested.
“Yeah, okay. I’ve got a room to myself,” he adds, already pulling the keycard out of his pocket.
They have a plane in the morning, and it’s already past 1am, but it’s a short flight, and Euijoo doesn’t care. He’ll catch up on sleep when they’re done with tour. Or when he’s dead.
Keeping close to Nicholas right now is more important. They walk into his hotel room and he flicks the lights on, Nicholas easing himself into the room, body liquid. Euijoo’s eyes catch onto the curve of Nicholas’ back when he bends down to inspect Euijoo’s minifridge. He doesn’t look away, even when Nicholas pulls out another can of Coke and straightens out.
“I was serious earlier, you know,” Nicholas says after taking a sip. “Your English has got so much better.”
He’s speaking in Korean now, in his usual chopped sentences. He often has to stop to think about the right word to use. Euijoo thinks it’s endearing.
“I have a good teacher,” he replies in English. He’s always clumsy with it, but he tries. He had to in LA, and if they want to keep going global, he has to set a good example to the other members that aren't comfortable with the language.
Nicholas hums, a satisfied little smile playing on his lips. Euijoo scoffs teasingly.
“I meant Maki.”
Nicholas barks out a laugh. “Yeah, okay,” he replies easily, turning to look at himself in the mirror, a scowl dropping down on his face immediately. His hands come up to fix strands back in place as if they're not set in position with three different types of hair product. “Can't believe you messed up my hair.”
Euijoo steps closer. Shifts until he's looking at Nicholas from over his shoulder. Nicholas chuckles, a little strained when he leans forward, putting space between them, but the way he looks back at Euijoo in the mirror is a dare.
Euijoo reaches up and curls his fingers in Nicholas’ hair, the tug gentle. Nicholas’ hair is thick and healthy, glossy whether or not it's styled. Nicholas’ eyes go half-lidded, and he jerks, subconsciously pulling away, but not enough to dislodge Euijoo's hand.
“I think the issue is that you like your hair touched a little too much,” Euijoo says, switching to Korean because he wants to be sure of his words. He wants to win the game.
Nicholas makes a tch sound, sucking on his teeth as his gaze narrows. Focuses. “You know me so well, huh?” he means it to be mocking, Euijoo wagers, but he misses the mark by a mile. To Euijoo, he sounds plaintive. A little pathetic.
It's so hot.
“Yeah,” Euijoo replies. Easy. Nicholas inhales sharply, lets out one of those little noises he's so fond of, kind of a squawk. Euijoo does know him. He knows that Nicholas is desperate for his makeup to be off. He knows that Nicholas wants him.
“You shouldn't get cocky, Juju. It's unbecoming,” Nicholas replies, putting his drink down on the desk in front of them.
“What's unbecoming is that you still refuse to accept that I'm taller than you.”
Euijoo’s hand moves from Nicholas’ hair to his neck, circling it. Fingers on either side of his windpipe for a moment, his hand a necklace. Nicholas tips his chin up, Adam’s Apple bobbing against the ridges of Euijoo's hand. He can breathe, Euijoo isn't applying pressure, but he knows he could. That's another thing Nicholas wants.
“You know I can't let you win,” Nicholas says, words vibrating against Euijoo's palm. It almost burns, the way Euijoo wants to squeeze tighter, to hear the words get choked up. “And you might be taller, but I can eat a meal without needing three sets of cutlery.”
Euijoo almost sputters at that. It had been embarrassing, especially the way the others had barely reacted to it, used to it. He maintains composure now, but only barely. His lips twitch into a smile he can't suppress.
“At least I can sit still.”
“Alright, Karate Kid–”
“Seriously Nico, we need to put you on a leash so you don't wander off–”
“I always come back!”
All this, while Euijoo is still holding on to Nicholas’ neck. Last year, Euijoo would never have dared doing this. He wouldn't have dared being so close to Nicholas, lest his face starts betraying him. Euijoo has always thought he was good at controlling his facial expressions, but being around Nicholas has taught him that was a lie. He's been forcing himself away for years to maintain composure. To hold onto a semblance of control.
But in the last year, they've all mellowed. There's something more secure with their position, brought to them by a successful Korean debut and becoming profitable for the company. Euijoo’s promised himself to learn to enjoy. To grab what he's been offered with both hands and bite down.
His hand slides down to Nicholas’ necklace. He's taking his time, and Nicholas is letting him, eyes heavy. It's very obvious that he's enjoying himself, but he's always been more open and obvious with his feelings than Euijoo, even though he's more guarded than most people think. It's why he pulls back sometimes too. Protecting himself.
This could be the only time Euijoo wins this game.
“Let me take your makeup off,” he says softly, using the necklace to guide Nicholas away from the desk and towards the bed, sitting him down at the edge. His Coke can is left on the desk, the fizz escaping in little bubble popping sounds as a soundtrack to their breathing.
Nicholas is pliant. He tips his head back when Euijoo puts two fingers under his chin, barely resisting circling his neck again. Euijoo's hands twitch with the desire to touch. He thinks he might be allowed, just this once.
He swiped a cotton pad imbued with makeup removed over Nicholas’ eyes, careful not to tug at the sensitive skin. The slight chemical, clean scent goes right up into his nose.
“You can go harder,” Nicholas says, voice rough, and Euijoo smiles.
“Oh, I'm sure you'd like that,” he replies, but doesn't start wiping harder. He moves the pad across Nicholas’ skin with care instead, the fake blood of his fake cut smearing down his cheek. Nicholas just smiles, his eyes still closed. His hands find Euijoo's hips, resting there lightly. Like he just wants to touch.
Euijoo wants to be touched.
He keeps going, using three cotton pads before Nicholas’ face is clear. He should still cleanse properly, but Euijoo doesn't have the time to think about later.
“Juju,” Nicholas says like a question when Euijoo puts the dirtied pads onto the bedside table. Confused, perhaps, but he's playing the game too. He knows what they're doing. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”
Euijoo has to keep going. The fear of rejection is a gaping maw at the center of his chest all of a sudden, full of teeth, but he keeps going. It explodes out of him like he’s a pressure cooker that’s been left on for way too long. A ticking time bomb having finally reached 0.
“Nothing I want more.”
He’s not sure he’s ever leaned into his own personal feelings this much. The ones that can swing back and punch him in the face. He can talk about dreams and wishes and what he wants to achieve professionally easily, but the messy stuff that gets sticky between his ribs, the stuff that can hurt him and only him, he’s been so good at keeping to himself.
But they're parasites, too, these feelings. Eating away at him and at his self-control, at his ability to keep himself together when he's around Nicholas. Nicholas always has a gentle word for him, a spoonful of food on offer, a kind smile. It tears Euijoo apart, death by a million cuts, when he has to push his hands in his pockets for the millionth time, instead of grabbing Nicholas’.
Nicholas grabs the sides of Euijoo’s face and crashes their lips together in a kiss that Euijoo didn’t expect, but makes his knees buckle immediately. He reaches out to hold onto Nicholas’ shoulder to keep himself upright, his mind threatening to split apart like an overripe orange as he takes in the feel of Nicholas’ lips against his own. He remembers talking about hookups and dating with Yuma a long time ago, and how Yuma had been so earnestly surprised when Euijoo had rebuked his assumption that he and Nicholas had made out before.
Because they hadn’t, and the thought made Euijoo burn from the inside out with want, but he couldn’t tell that to Yuma. He acted almost offended instead, like the mere idea was a slap to the face, and in hindsight, that might have been even more of an obvious clue than if Euijoo had just laughed it off.
And now, he burns again, kissing Nicholas back with the fervour of a fanatic worshipping a deity, cradling him close and drinking him in, the world outside of the bed frame fading away. They make out like they’ve been starved for it, like years of pent-up feelings and desires can be explored in just one kiss. They nip at each other’s lips, suck on each other’s tongues, grab at each other’s shirts, shoulders, waists. Nicholas fists a hand in Euijoo’s hair and Euijoo curls his hand around Nicholas’ neck again, soaking up the warmth of his skin even though he can feel sweat at his temples already.
One of them slows it down at some point, Euijoo isn’t sure which one of them, but the hunger turns more intimate, time taking on a syrupy quality when Nicholas pulls Euijoo in, leading him to straddle Nicholas. He goes easily, knees like jelly. The kiss feels somehow filthier when it’s slower, Nicholas’ tongue swiping into Euijoo’s mouth with a wet noise and a groan that may start with Nicholas but ends with Euijoo.
It’s probably for the best that Nicholas pulls back, but Euijoo still lets out an undignified noise, chasing Nicholas’ lips with his own like a heat seeking missile.
“Hey,” Nicholas says, sounding wrecked. Euijoo makes himself heavier on his lap. Real, solid, tangible. Euijoo might be losing his mind. “Is this a game to you?”
Euijoo blinks, taken by surprise. It is a game, but it doesn't mean it has no stakes. These are the highest stakes he's ever played with. All or nothing, friendship career happiness. Love, maybe. He doesn't care about winning anymore. He just wants to not lose.
“It was,” Euijoo admits, sincere. His fingers dig into Nicholas’ shoulders. “But not anymore. But we can pretend it is a game if you prefer.”
Nicholas shakes his head immediately. “I don't want to pretend. I want you.”
Oh, it sends a little frisson down Euijoo's spine to hear those words, to have the knowledge confirmed. They've crossed the line fully now, settled into each other arms rather than staring at each other from either side. Nicholas’ fingers slip under Euijoo’s polo shirt, branding his skin like hot-white metal as he trails them up along the side of Euijoo’s spine, burning and burning. Eujoo gasps, eyes focused on Nicholas’ face, the unspoken words in every shift of his expressions. He seems to be in disbelief, eyes soft as he stares at Euijoo, skin splotchy red and lips a little swollen. They’re so inviting. Euijoo leans in and licks at Nicholas’ top lip.
He spreads his knees even further, completely sitting on Nicholas’ lap by now. He brings a hand to Nicholas’ jaw, and the next kiss is another slow, languid one, like they’re both testing the waters. Nicholas’ hand is huge against Euijoo’s back, and it easily takes him along when Nicholas decides to lie down on the bed. They’re at a strange angle, but Euijoo doesn’t mind it, pressing his lips to Nicholas’ jumping pulse, tasting clean sweat under his tongue. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicated, inhaling deeply in the crook of Nicholas’ neck, a drug only he has access to. Faint traces of perfume, remnants of makeup and makeup remover. Euijoo wants to curl up in the dip of Nicholas’ collarbone, against warm skin and sturdy bone. Safe.
He’s surprised when Nicholas hitches his hips up, startled by the fascinating sensation of their growing erections meeting against layers of denim and cotton. Despite the obstacles, they’re both obvious, and Nicholas lets out a ragged little noise; not one of his usual silly screeches but a moan instead, ripped from his throat by Euijoo’s tentative, experimental responding thrust.
It would be better if they bothered with taking their clothes off, but Euijoo isn’t sure they can withstand it. Following instinct is already playing with boundaries, and Euijoo doesn’t want to cross a new line he doesn’t know yet exists. They’re touching each other, Nicholas’ palm pressed to Euijoo’s skin against his ribs, pushing back every time Euijoo’s chest expands with a harsh breath. Euijoo’s face pushed tight against the curve of Nicholas’ neck, memorising him by taste and smell alone.
“Juju,” Nicholas breathes out after Euijoo rolls his hips down again, twin gasps escaping them. “Will you be offended if I come really fast,” he asks between panting gulps, his free hand curled into Euijoo’s messy curls. Their hairdresser would be proud of how well the styling has lasted.
Euijoo shifts, slotting one thigh between Nicholas’ legs, straddling one of Nicholas’ himself. Nicholas is quick to react, lifting his leg to press it tighter against Euijoo’s cock.
“I won’t be offended,” Euijoo replies, voice tight. If anything, he’d be kinda flattered. “But I might hold it over your head.”
Nicholas laughs weakly, pulling at Euijoo’s hair to get his head up. Their eyes meet, something like joy written on Nicholas’ features. It’s insane that they’re even here, doing this, grinding slowly against each other like they can’t help themselves. But it’s also the most normal thing in the world. An unstoppable force against an immovable object. They were destined to clash, to meet in the middle. It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.
“Fuck you,” Nicholas ends up replying, but he’s laughing at the same time, breathless. Beautiful. Euijoo is dizzy with it. He grounds himself with another roll of his hips, with another kiss to Nicholas’ round cheek, tasting the heat of his blood just under the skin.
“Again, I’m sure you’d like that,” Euijoo says, borrowing his own words from earlier. But he’d like that too. He’d like that so much.
Nicholas dislodges Euijoo’s head by pulling his hair again, forcing their eyes to meet. There’s no trace of a tease there when he speaks next. “Yeah. I would.”
Even if they had all the time in the world, even if their manager wasn’t sleeping in a hotel room that shares a wall with Euijoo’s, he’s not sure they’d dare to go this far. It had taken them years to kiss, to stumble into bed right now, with all of their clothes on, heavy petting and cut-off moans already burning them alive. The idea of touching Nicholas further, of the two of them fully naked, is enough already for Euijoo’s cock to twitch in his jeans, painfully confined in the space. He can’t even fathom anything more than that, the idea a heart attack in itself.
“I–okay. Yeah.”
Not so long ago, Euijoo thinks Nicholas was losing the game. The way he kept looking away from Euijoo instead of maintaining eye contact, at times too aware of the camera pointed at them. Nicholas is not one to look away first, and the fact that he did emboldened Euijoo further. But now, now he doesn’t look away. He looks at Euijoo with heat, with a hunger that doesn’t let up. Nicholas is more expressive than Euijoo is at the best of the times, and maybe he looked away because he knew he was losing.
He’s not losing anymore. Neither of them are. They’re both winners. Euijoo flexes his thigh, pushes it even closer to Nicholas, just to watch the way he kicks his head back, mouth open on a moan that seems to be ripped straight out of his gut. Nicholas’ hands grip onto Euijoo’s shoulders, throat clicking when he swallows. His hips seem to move on their own accord, thigh grinding against Euijoo’s crotch in an uncoordinated rhythm, following instinct rather than sense.
Nicholas’ skin is tacky with sweat when Euijoo puts his lips to it again. From what he can sense, Nicholas is a bit of a grower, rubbing against Euijoo’s thigh in desperate, tight little circles that make his eyes roll to the back of his head. The moment is a headrush, the whisper of denim against denim a counter melody to their raspy gasps. Euijoo is running a race, and no matter how much he wants it to be a marathon, he knows it’s a sprint that’s about to finish. Nicholas’ body arches against his own, their hands finding one another, fingers lacing together in a desperate hold. If he lets go, Euijoo is scared Nicholas will just disappear.
He moves his hips as if fucking Nicholas, legs tensing with every thrust forward. He’s too hot, sweating profusely and dripping on Nicholas, but it’s too late to try and get rid of his jeans. God, they’re both still wearing their socks. It’d be embarrassing if it wasn’t hilarious. Nicholas doesn’t seem to care, body moving to the beat of music only he can hear, staccato and urgent, his fingers squeezing Euijoo’s tight. Euijoo hopes his voice is overlaid over whatever is playing in Nicholas’ heart.
It’s a teenage, hurried moment, fuelled by pent up emotions and raging arousal. Euijoo rolls with it as best as he can, listening intently for the way Nicholas’ pitchy little noises, the aborted half-movements. Nicholas pulls Euijoo’s shirt halfway up his chest with his free hand in a jerky move, splays his palm over Euijoo’s jack-rabbitting heart, the polo gathering up against Nicholas’ wrist, bright red against silver accessories. He can't stay still, as ever. He's squirming and panting and touching Euijoo everywhere. Euijoo wants to film Nicholas, just to make sure he can't ever forget. Wishes he had a photographic memory, so he'd never forget.
It’s surreal and unreal and it’s so good, Euijoo’s toes curling in his socks as his synapses explode with every sensation, his cock oversensitive, the movements bordering on painful against the fabric of his boxers. Perfect, grounding. He’s so deeply anchored in the moment it might be impossible to make him move from this bed.
Nicholas shivers when he comes, the full body kind that has goosebumps appear over his arms where his hair is subtly regrowing. Not over his scar, never over his scar. Euijoo wants to kiss every inch of him. He looks glorious, pink all over, sweat at his brow, hair managing to stay mostly in place despite everything they’ve done tonight. Nicholas chews on his lip as he tenses, hips raised off the bed and twitching cock pressed to Euijoo’s thigh. Euijoo has to kiss him, or maybe he’ll cry. Maybe he’ll cry if he does kiss him.
He brings his free hand to the back of Nicholas’ head and pulls him into a kiss anyway, coaxing his bottom lip free from his front teeth. He soothes the bite with his tongue, pretending that he has any idea what he’s doing. His experience doesn’t extend to all that. But Nicholas sighs against him, goes all pliant and soft again, shoulders hitting the mattress again before he opens his eyes. They’re breathing against each other’s mouths, and Nicholas slaps Euijoo’s butt with his free hand, slides it into the back pocket of Euijoo’s black jeans.
Like this, he guides Euijoo to his own orgasm. It’s quick and easy, with Nicholas’ hands all over him, his eyes clear and entirely focused on Euijoo. It doesn’t exactly take Euijoo long, rutting against Nicholas, the dizzying climb such a rush he’s pretty sure he blacks out for a second when he comes.
It’s messy. All over his boxers, disgusting, warm and wet and sticky. And yet he just drops on top of Nicholas, missing his lips by a margin and ending up kissing the hinge of Nicholas’ jaw, all of his bones seemingly dissolving in one fell swoop.
Their hands are still interlaced, and neither of them makes a move to change that, even when Nicholas grunts.
“You might be lighter than me, but you’re still not a feather, Byun Euijoo,” he protests, rolling the two of them to their sides. His voice is still imbued with wonder. He’s smiling, growing bigger when Euijoo punches him lightly in the shoulder.
“You had to ruin the moment,” Euijoo mutters, fake annoyed. He pouts, and Nicholas pouts right back. They end up meeting in the middle for a kiss, more tender than anything they’ve done tonight.
Euijoo wants to keep doing this. Something unlatched in his chest makes him want to ask, makes him want to make sure, but he already knows. He’s already sure. In the dark of night, when it’s just the two of them, they can unspool each other, until they’re both loose-limbed and smiling easily. The game’s been played and won, finally.
Euijoo sighs, just against Nicholas’ lips. He pulls back a fraction, pressing his own damp forehead to Nicholas’. They will have to get cleaned up very soon, but for a moment longer, Euijoo basks.
“Can you stay? Just drop manager-nim a message that you’re crashing here.”
It’s one of those things Euijoo wouldn’t have said before. Uncomfortable, slightly dangerous. The living on the edge kind of thing, taking away his plausible deniability. But Nicholas just smiles, easy, hair a dark halo on Euijoo’s spare pillow. He pulls Euijoo closer, kisses him on the lips, close-mouthed and sweet.
“Yeah, okay. Got any shorts for me to sleep in?”
In the morning they’ll have to pretend this didn’t happen. They’ll have to get to the airport and on their plane, heading to Universal Studios almost as soon as they land. They won’t be able to hold hands, or to look each other in the eye without betraying what happened in the night.
But for the rest of the night, they can hold hands and look at each other as they fall asleep. Tomorrow, it will be a new kind of game starting.