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It’s no secret to anyone that Jihoon isn’t a big fan of being in charge of people. He carries the title of “leader” like a piece of too-big clothing, it’s never really sat right on his shoulders. But there’s a notable exception, even if it’s one that Jihoon doesn’t plan on discussing in any interview from not until the day he dies.

That exception is Mingyu, hands attached to his ankles by way of a pair of leather cuffs that probably cost more money than Jihoon wants to think about, stuck on his knees. It’s a look that Jihoon likes— one that he doesn’t get to enjoy very much— Mingyu looking up at him with his bangs hanging in his glassy eyes. Privacy is a benefit of Jihoon’s role, one that he takes advantage of in ways he’s probably not supposed to. But, he has a studio that locks and a reasonable assurance that no one is going to come banging on his door while he’s supposed to be busy writing lyrics.

When he reaches a hand forward to cup around the side of Mingyu’s jaw, he leans into the slight touch, his eyes drooping half open. He shifts his hips against his heels, the low buzzing of the vibrator carefully slipped inside him not quite covered by the music Jihoon has playing. It doesn’t matter that much to Jihoon; it’s impossible to hear anything he’s doing in his studio from the hall outside. Still, it doesn’t stop him from snorting derisively when Mingyu presses his head more into Jihoon’s hand, whining under his breath.

“What’s the matter, mutt?” Jihoon asks, his fingers going tight around Mingyu’s jaw. “Not having fun?”

Mingyu’s mouth opens a little, but he hesitates, looking up like he’s not sure if he’s meant to answer that question or not. Jihoon doesn’t wait for him to decide if that counts as a real question or not, sliding his hand from Mingyu’s jaw to slide through his thick hair, fingers catching at the spot at the back of Mingyu’s head that he knows is the most sensitive. He twists his wrist, giving Mingyu’s hair a sharp tug. It makes Mingyu’s eyes flutter, drawing a sharp gasp of breath in. He holds Mingyu’s hair tightly in one fist for a moment before releasing it, petting the back of his head with a grin.

“Did you think I cared?” He asks, watching Mingyu bite down on his lip before shaking his head. He’s quicker to respond this time, and Jihoon hums thoughtfully over it. It’s more entertaining, of course, to reduce Mingyu to a desperate mess to the point where forming a coherent response at all is beyond him. It’s hard to find the time for that with how busy their lives are, but Jihoon isn’t expecting anyone to bother him for awhile.

He slides his fingers through Mingyu’s hair once more before lowering his hand, pressing his thumb against the bare column of Mingyu’s neck. He can feel the shallow gasp that Mingyu pulls in, though he’s not doing much more than resting his hand at the side of Mingyu’s neck. His fingers are too short to let him wrap a hand convincingly around his throat but Jihoon has a knack for not letting his smaller stature stop him.

“Aren’t you missing something, mutt?” Jihoon asks, voice low enough to tease. Lip still caught between his teeth, Mingyu nods his head sharply. He’s grinding his hips slightly back and forth, trying to find some kind of relief from the constant low hum of the toy inside of him. It’s not meant to do more than tease, to make sure Mingyu can’t quite get his focus off of it. He’s definitely had it in long enough for the buzz of it to go from pleasant to relentless, and Jihoon hasn’t bothered to do anything more in response than kick his shoes off.

The studio is the only hiding place that Jihoon really has, there’s a whole cache of things tucked away in different spots around the room (in the hopes that even if someone is poking around through his stuff they won’t find everything). Mingyu’s head is lolling back under the bare touch of Jihoon’s hand, and it makes Jihoon a little glad he had the object in mind sitting out when Mingyu let himself in with one of those stupid grins on his face. The two of them probably aren’t as subtle as Jihoon would like to be. What they get up to in these brief, stolen pockets of time isn’t really the business of anyone else, but when you live on top of eleven other people, secrets are hard to come by from the start.

Jihoon leans forward in his seat, bringing his face close to Mingyu’s like he might kiss him, a grin on his face. “Do you want me to put it on for you, mutt? I think you’ll have a hard time doing it yourself.”

Mingyu leans forward as well, lips parted, trying to catch Jihoon’s mouth in a kiss. Jihoon doesn’t indulge him, sliding quickly out of his reach and laughing when Mingyu nearly tips himself forward trying to chase after him. “How greedy.”

He reaches over to the desk, grabbing the thick leather collar and taking his time to caress his fingers over it in front of Mingyu. Mingyu’s dark eyes follow after his fingers, lips parted once again. He looks so pathetically eager for anything Jihoon decides to give him that Jihoon wishes he could take a picture; there’s a flush across Mingyu’s sweaty chest, his expression broken open and desperate, his cock red flushed and curving up to leak against his stomach.

Mingyu has his chin leaned back, neck exposed an inviting before Jihoon wraps the leather collar around it. Simple as it is, the leather is soft and supple against Mingyu’s skin, fitting together at the ends with a silver buckle. When Jihoon sat down to order it, it was something of a guilty pleasure purchase. He wasn’t even sure he’d have the courage to bring it up with Mingyu even after he bought it. Mingyu closes his eyes when the buckle slips closed, tipping his head forward enough to make the collar dig slightly into the tanned skin of his neck.

Jihoon pets his fingers slowly through Mingyu’s thick hair once again, considering. Mingyu squirms into the contact and Jihoon can hear the slight clink of the short length of chain that holds his wrists against his ankles, leaving him stuck helpless on his knees. It’d be a lie to say that Jihoon doesn’t like seeing him that way. It’s too easy for Mingyu to take advantage of his size otherwise— to put his hands wherever he wants on Jihoon, to try and bully his way past doing what he’s told. Jihoon pushes his chair back, standing up with his fingers still in Mingyu’s hair.

He’s still tall enough that his face comes up even with Jihoon’s stomach, meaning there’s no way for him to miss the bulge in the front of Jihoon’s sweats. Mingyu leans forward enough to rub his cheek against Jihoon’s thigh, mouth turned toward Jihoon’s clothed cock. He whines, breath coming out in quick, hot pants. It’s obvious he’s more relaxed with the collar on, not thinking so hard about what he’s doing. It’s better that way. It helps the both of them relax.

Jihoon pulls his hand out of Mingyu’s hair, giving it another tug as some of the strands tangle around his fingers. He takes hold of Mingyu’s chin once more, forcing his head back, pressing his thumb against Mingyu’s lower lip. Mingyu struggles a little in his grasp, trying to take Jihoon’s finger into his mouth.

“Are you so desperate to have your holes filled?” Jihoon asks though it’s hardly a question at all. He sounds bored, even to his own ears, like his blood isn’t pumping hot and urgent through his veins. Mingyu’s eyes dart up to look at him, his pupils wide and dark, pressing his lip into Jihoon’s fingers in a pout.

“Please,” he says, his voice low and strained.

Jihoon slaps him— hard enough to make a sharp sound, but not so hard it leaves a red imprint on his face for people to ask questions about later. Mingyu makes a sound in response, a low and rough groan that sounds like it’s pulled straight from his lungs. Jihoon twists Mingyu’s hair between his fingers, forcing his head back.

“It’s rhetorical, mutt. I know what you need,” he says, his other hand pushing his sweats off his hips to pool around his ankles. He considers grabbing the dog-ear headband he’d bought last Halloween as a joke, mostly because he knows Mingyu finds wearing it embarrassing. But that would mean stepping away to find wherever he put it, and even though he knows he’s got plenty of time, Jihoon’s impatient.

He pushes the slick head of his cock against Mingyu’s lips instead. Mingyu opens his mouth easily, eagerly, pushing his head down around Jihoon’s cock so quickly that he almost chokes himself, jerking in a vain effort to try and free his hands. Jihoon bites down on his lip in an effort to cut off the surprised sound he makes, still holding tightly to the back of Mingyu’s head.

“Fuck,” he says, pushing forward into Mingyu’s mouth. His free hand goes to the collar around Mingyu’s neck, sliding his thumb between the soft leather and Mingyu’s skin, tugging it tighter around his throat. Mingyu whines, the sound coming out strangled and wet as Jihoon’s cock presses his throat.

Jihoon holds him like that, fucking into his mouth in slow, languid strokes. He’s not really chasing his orgasm yet, but Mingyu’s mouth is hot and slick around his cock, his tongue working in sloppy, desperate bursts.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jihoon asks, sliding his cock out and letting it rest against Mingyu’s lower lip. Mingyu hesitates a moment before nodding his head. He looks properly a mess now, with spit and Jihoon’s precome smeared around his mouth, his brow slightly furrowed like he’s trying to figure out what Jihoon is going to do with him from here.

Jihoon releases him, stepping away to lean over, unclipping the short chain that holds his wrists and ankles together. He doesn’t unbind Mingyu’s hands, his fingers dipping into the cleft of his ass, twisting the thick base of the vibrator to make the speed increase. Mingyu whines sharply and Jihoon bites the shell of his ear. “Get on the couch.”

It always takes Mingyu a moment to figure out the best way to move, his hands still stuck behind his back. He manages to get to his feet, lurching the few steps it takes to get from the desk to the battered couch that Jihoon keeps in his studio, mostly for the express purpose of falling asleep on when he needs to. It works just as well for this, though. Mingyu falls chest first onto it, making the springs groan. As sure as he is that he’s going to break the damn thing one day, every time Jihoon thinks about buying a new couch the other members provide him with plenty of compelling reasons not to.

(Besides, Jihoon figures an old piece of furniture raises far fewer questions when someone notices a stain on it.)

He follows after Mingyu, smirking when he finally manages to plant one of his shoulders on the couch, turning his head to look up at Jihoon with a bitten off whine. The sound of the vibrator is loud now, and when Jihoon’s fingers wrap around the thick base of it, Mingyu’s hips give a little jerk, like he’s trying to push down on it and pull away at the same time. Jihoon twists it, changing the angle so it presses up into Mingyu’s prostate, holding it there until he shouts.

“Do you wanna come like this, mutt?” Jihoon asks, thrusting it in slow strokes, letting the toy buzz madly against Mingyu’s insides. “This is all you need, isn’t it?”

He wraps a hand around Mingyu’s hip, fingers circling his cock, giving it a slow stroke. Mingyu gasps, jerking into Jihoon’s hands and nodding his head furiously. His mouth is open, and the sounds that tumble out in a continuous stream are loud. Jihoon releases the toy, leaving it buried half in Mingyu’s hole, bringing a hand down hard on Mingyu’s as. He relishes in the way his fingers sting after. Mingyu snaps his mouth shut with a whimper, his fingers curled into tight fists at the small of his back.

Jihoon’s hand stills around Mingyu’s cock, making it obvious that this time he is waiting for an answer. Mingyu grunts, trying to thrust his hips forward twice before Jihoon’s hand comes to stop him.

“Yes,” Mingyu says, his voice a long groan, his back curving into a perfect arch. “Please, fuck— please, hyung.”

This time, when he brings his hand down on Mingyu’s ass, it is hard enough to leave the red imprint of his palm behind. He grabs the base of the vibrator again, simply holding it rather than thrusting this time; his hand around Mingyu’s cock doing the same. Mingyu holds still for another moment, panting, waiting for Jihoon to move.

“Well, go on,” Jihoon says, doing his best to sound bored once again though this time he mostly fails at it. “If you wanna come so bad you’d better get moving.”

Mingyu moans, and Jihoon isn’t sure if it’s a sound of despair or not, rolling his hips back onto the toy as best he can. He doesn’t have much leverage, folded nearly in half to fit on the couch, his cheek and shoulder pressed into the fabric, and it takes several clumsy thrusts that almost make the toy slip out of his hole entirely before Mingyu gets the hang of it. He saws his hips back at an uneven rhythm, trying to thrust his cock into the tight circle of Jihoon’s fingers at the same time.

He’s quieter while he fucks himself, his focus on angling his hips to get the vibrator to glance across his prostate. Jihoon takes pity on him, stroking his cock once again, thumbing over the slick head of it.

“There you go, puppy,” Jihoon says, his voice softer than before. “Fucking yourself like a good bitch.”

The praise makes Mingyu whimper, his thighs trembling as he works himself closer to the edge. Jihoon knows him well enough to read the signs, the way his shoulders flinch and curl inward, his brow scrunched up as he pushes his hips back again, grinding his hips back against the toy.

Mingyu tips over the edge with a shaking groan, one that rises into a desperate series of whimpers when Jihoon pulls his hand back at the same time, sliding the toy out of him. He turns it off, watching Mingyu’s hole clench around air as he comes, his cock twitching and dripping cum down his thighs.

“Hyung,” Mingyu whimpers, turning as much as he can to look up at Jihoon, his eyelids heavy. “I need to come— please.”

His hips jerk as Jihoon wraps a hand around his cock again, gathering come on his fingers before holding it out to Mingyu, raising both of his eyebrows. “Didn’t you just come, mutt? What’s this then?”

Mingyu leans as far forward as he can, lapping Jihoon’s fingers clean with a shake of his head. “Not enough… I need more.”

Jihoon sighs, like Mingyu is asking far too much for him, leaning over to grab the lube discarded on the surface of his desk. He grits his teeth, stroking a blob of it over his cock, glad Mingyu’s hole is still slick and open for him. He drops the bottle to the floor, thrusting into Mingyu in one long stroke. He lays both hands on Mingyu’s hips, the skin superheated under his palms.

Mingyu’s breath catches in his throat and Jihoon fucks him fast and merciless, their skin slapping loudly together with each pump of his hips. He can feel Mingyu shaking from the oversensitivity, tremors crawling over his skin as Jihoon pushes him too fast toward another orgasm. His cock is still hard and flushed when Jihoon takes hold of it, stroking quick and hard, twisting his wrist.

Jihoon angles his hips, driving the blunt head of his cock into Mingyu’s prostate again and again, abusing the already sensitive bundle of nerves even further. He’s too close to the edge himself, blood pounding loudly in his ears as he struggles to reel himself back from tipping over the edge. There are tears sticking to Mingyu’s long eyelashes, and Jihoon is on the edge of slowing his pace, of trying to confirm with Mingyu that he isn’t being pushed too hard.

But before he does, Mingyu comes with a weak groan, his whole body shaking like he might come apart at any moment. Jihoon rolls his hips slowly, letting Mingyu make a further mess of his hand and the couch as he comes again. He pulls out when Mingyu finishes, using his other hand to jerk his cock with quick, aggressive strokes. Mingyu’s eyes are bleary when he looks up, his lip bright red from being bitten into, nails digging hard into his palms. “Hyung— you can…”

Jihoon shakes his head, groaning as he winds up coming over the back of Mingyu’s thighs instead. He sighs when he finishes, his arms feeling leaden, leaning over Mingyu’s sweaty back to free his hands, unbuckling the cuffs with shaking fingers.

Mingyu rolls, laying down on his side with a little groan, stretching his legs out. Jihoon rolls his eyes, tucking himself into what little space remains on the couch. He reaches for the collar, intending to take that off as well, but Mingyu shakes his head slightly.

“I like it,” he says, his voice ruined, and Jihoon shrugs one shoulder in response. He takes hold of Mingyu’s wrist instead, massaging the feeling back into it, pressing his lips to the angry red line in his tanned skin.

“You alright?” He asks, waiting until Mingyu’s breathing has settled back to normal. This, of all things, is the part that makes Jihoon feel awkward and strange. It isn’t, of course, that he doesn’t like taking care of Mingyu after, he’s just never certain how to go about it.

Displays of real affection have never been Jihoon’s strong suit. But, Mingyu smiles at him, a glowing flush on his skin. He tilts his head down for a kiss and Jihoon indulges him, taking Mingyu’s other wrist to massage as well.

“I’m great,” Mingyu says, his voice slow and strained still. But there’s a wide grin on his face, the kind that Jihoon usually wants to wipe off of him. He pulls his hand gently away from Jihoon’s fingers, wrapping them around Jihoon’s waist instead, using his longer limbs to engulf Jihoon in his embrace. “Thanks.”

He says it like Jihoon did him some kind of favor and it makes Jihoon snort out a small laugh, toying a little with the collar around his neck before petting Mingyu’s hair gently between his fingers. “Yeah, sure.”