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He loves Jongin so fucking much he can't keep himself quiet.

Sometimes, it’s just nice to have an excuse to be loud about it.

After all, the song instructs them, so when Jongin is there in front of him, reaching forward to gently touch his chest, it’s easy to tune everything else out. They turn, back to back, bumping against each other for a moment, but then Jongin leans back against him.

And Baekhyun escalates. Because that’s what Baekhyun is good at: escalation.

When he reaches back and grabs two handfuls of Jongin’s ass, he both hears and feels Jongin’s surprise. He squeezes tight for a moment before releasing him, a bright white grin on his face.

There’s so much left to sing, so much left to perform, but the moment sticks in Baekhyun’s head, and when Jongin makes eye contact with him during ments, he knows that it sticks in Jongin’s head too.

The sweat pours off them, and Baekhyun dabs his forehead with a towel before laying it across the back of his neck.

“Listen, I don’t care what you two get up to in your free time,” Jongdae says, poking a finger into Baekhyun’s chest, “but keep that shit to the bedroom. I don’t wanna look over my shoulder tomorrow and see you making out on stage.”

“It’d be hot,” Sehun notes.

“Thank you,” Baekhyun says, and he ruffles Sehun’s hair before coming away with a handful of sweat. “Ugh. Gross.” He wipes it off on Sehun’s t-shirt, satisfied with his work.

Sehun makes a noise of upset, his face twisting into his patented scowl. “See if I ever defend the gays again.” He folds his arms across his chest and pouts.

“I’ll defend the gays,” Chanyeol offers, hand in the air. “It would be hot.”

“Shut up,” Jongin says, and he punches Chanyeol in the shoulder.

“Let me defend you!” Chanyeol grouses.

“No, we don’t need you,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol whines before Jongin pulls him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Ah,” Chanyeol squeals. “No more! No more!”

“How are you gonna defend anyone from anything?” Minseok teases. “You’re a huge baby.”

“At least I’m huge,” Chanyeol says.

“You know what,” Kyungsoo says, and he reaches forward, punches Chanyeol in the leg three times quickly.

“I wasn’t even talking to you!” Chanyeol yells over a laugh.

“Too bad, I’m defending the shorts among us,” Kyungsoo says.

Jongin erupts into laughter, and Chanyeol is finally able to wriggle away from him, petting his hair down from where Jongin ruffled it. Baekhyun looks on, pulling Sehun forward so he can hook an arm around his neck and sit in his lap.

“Sit in your boyfriend’s lap,” Sehun whines.

“Make me,” Baekhyun says.

The maknae says nothing else, content to let Baekhyun do whatever he wants instead of expending any energy to stop him, and the wind-down from the concert is good, the adrenaline leaking out slow and slower still like oil moving over water.

When they return to the hotel, Baekhyun finds their room tidied which is a relief. He and Jongdae left it strewn with clothes, shoes, and various gifts for friends and family back home. He smiles, kicking off his shoes at the door and padding over to his bed, turned down.

He doesn’t even bother picking up the covers, just flops down onto the mattress on his belly, sighing mightily as he sinks in.

“Are you gonna change?” Jongdae says, poking him with a foot, already working on taking off his pants.

“No,” Baekhyun groans, eyes shut. “I’m gonna sleep.”

“Get changed,” Jongdae says.

“No,” Baekhyun says.

“Whatever, I’m not your mom,” Jongdae says.

“Thank God,” Baekhyun says. “My mom is pretty.”

“You’re a bitch,” Jongdae says.

And then, there’s a shy knock at the door.

“No,” Jongdae says. “No, not again.”

Baekhyun smiles, turns over onto his stomach. “Come in,” he calls.

“No,” Jongdae says again, but the door is already popping opening, Jongin stepping through. He knew the spare key would come in handy. “No, not tonight, Jongin, come on.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Jongin says.

“No, not sorry, hyung,” Jongdae whines. “Why? Why can’t I stay in my own room for a change?”

“Chanyeol really wants to see you?” Jongin tries.

“I’m tired of seeing Chanyeol’s naked ass every morning,” Jongdae yells.

“You’d rather see my ass?” Baekhyun smiles, folding his hands over his heart. “Jongdae. I’m touched.”

“I just want to be by my stuff,” Jongdae says, stomping his feet. “Please. It’s a pain in the ass to haul my skincare in and out every morning.”

“I’ll pay you,” Jongin says. “How much do you want?”

“A million,” Jongdae says.

“Sold,” Jongin says, and he reaches into his back pocket, peeling notes and counting until he places them in Jongdae’s outstretched hand. “Okay. Get out.”

Jongdae grabs a pair of shorts out of his suitcase, runs to the bathroom, and when he comes out, he’s got a bunch of bottles in his arms.

“Later,” he says, and then, he pauses at the door. “Don’t fuck in my bed. And jizz in toilet paper so you can flush it. I don’t wanna see a used condom in the trash can tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll just swallow,” Jongin says with a shrug.

Jongdae makes a very distressed noise as the door closes behind him, and Jongin watches him go before he turns to Baekhyun, a smile on his face. Baekhyun stands, crosses to him. Takes him in his arms.

“You gotta stop doing that,” Baekhyun says, burying his face in Jongin’s neck.

“It’s faster than wearing him down,” Jongin says, and Baekhyun can feel the smile against his hair.

“That’s true,” Baekhyun says, and they hold each other there, in the middle of the room. It’s quiet for several moments before he hears Jongdae from the next room over shriek loudly. “We’re awful.”

“Yeah,” Jongin says, and he presses a kiss to Baekhyun’s cheek, “but I needed to see you tonight.”

“Why’s that?” Baekhyun grins at him.

“You know why. What were you thinking?” Jongin says, a smile belying him.

“Would you kick me out of bed if I said it was fan-service?” Baekhyun grins.

“Yes,” Jongin says, grinning, and he pulls Baekhyun to him by the back of the neck, their chests touching, possessive, hot. “Don’t say that.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun says, and the air is thick between them. “I won’t.”

Jongin kisses him then, and it feels like it’s been forever even though Baekhyun could count on his hands how many hours it’s been. Whenever they get the chance, they are together. Whenever….wherever they can embrace, they do it then and there. It’s simple, the way they work, the way they balance things. Sometimes, even still, it feels illicit, but it only adds to the heat that seems to swallow them up.

Jongin licks into his mouth, and Baekhyun yields to him, opens his mouth, moans out as Jongin holds him carefully. He winds an arm around Baekhyun’s neck, his other hand on the small of Baekhyun’s back, pressing their bodies together.

The kiss turns hungry quickly, and Baekhyun likes it that way, likes feeling the desperation humming its way through Jongin’s body. Sometimes, Baekhyun watches him dance, and he sees that desperation work through him, barely restrained, only just held back. He’s like a forest with no fire lines, and once the blaze starts, there’s nothing to stop it.

“J-Jongin,” Baekhyun breathes.

But Jongin doesn’t answer him, or if he does, his answer is physical: he kisses down Baekhyun’s jaw, down the side of his neck, and he starts to suck a mark there, something that will stay.

“Jongin,” Baekhyun says, hands on Jongin’s shoulders. “No marks. No marks.

“The noona will cover it,” Jongin says slyly. “They don’t ask questions.”

“Shut up,” Baekhyun says, and he pushes Jongin back until the backs of his knees hit the bed, until they tumble over, until Baekhyun can shut him up himself.

He doesn’t know why it’s always so tense, why they’re strung so tight after shows. They had their adrenaline crash, and they should be sleeping, but Baekhyun can’t keep his hands to himself, can’t keep his mouth off of Jongin’s. Jongin is there when he’s scared or he’s sad or he’s angry. He’s there when Baekhyun is wired, energetic, wild. He’s there for the outliers and for the hill in between.

“Come on,” Jongin says, and he starts pulling at Baekhyun’s shirt. “Come on, real fast. Then we’ll sleep. Promise.”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says, but he doesn’t even care.

He doesn’t mind if it isn’t frantic. He wouldn’t care if it was slow, tempered like chocolate. He’d take whatever was given to him, he’d take it all. As long as it was Jongin.

He strips his shirt off, takes Jongin’s off too when he arches up off the bed, flexing his abdominal muscles. Baekhyun throws the clothes to the side, hands magnetized to the freshly bared skin.

“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re so—”

Jongin kisses him, doesn’t let him finish, but Baekhyun makes him swallow the praise. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Perfect. And you’re all mine.

“I don’t wanna—” Jongin starts, petting over Baekhyun’s body. “I don’t wanna waste time.”

“No,” Baekhyun says.


And he flips Baekhyun onto his back, hands at the hem of Baekhyun’s sweatpants. He pulls them down slow, waiting for Baekhyun to kick his hips into the air to work them down over Baekhyun’s ass. They join the rest of their clothes, a little pile on the floor, and Jongin starts stroking Baekhyun’s cock through his underwear.

“Please,” Baekhyun says, even though he doesn’t know what he’s even begging for.

Jongin is so right for him, though. He knows what Baekhyun wants before Baekhyun does.

Baekhyun is hard when Jongin peels him out of his boxer-briefs, and then Jongin stands, strips himself down too. Baekhyun strokes himself once, twice as he watches Jongin bend over, cock hard between his legs.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Jongin says, crawling back over Baekhyun’s body. “Otherwise, I’m gonna start charging.”

“It’d be well worth it,” Baekhyun says, “but my wallet is in my bag.”

“Guess you’ll just have to pay me some other way,” Jongin says. With that, he sweeps Baekhyun up, flips them again, and Baekhyun stares down at him. “Feel free to get creative.” He’s a fuckin’ sleaze. And Baekhyun loves him. Loves him with his whole heart.

Baekhyun gets to work, kisses down Jongin’s body even though he has no real need to rile Jongin up any more: he’s already working his hips up, pushing his dick into whatever skin he can. He’s wanton, and it makes Baekhyun feel even more wrapped up in the moment.

He kisses the head of Jongin’s cock wetly, licks along the vein on the underside, and he watches as Jongin’s chest rises and falls sharply.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Jongin says.

“I won’t,” Baekhyun says in between laying wet, open-mouthed kisses along Jongin’s balls. “Just enjoy it.”

They’ve done this enough that Baekhyun knows exactly what makes Jongin tick. He works a fist along the shaft as he sucks down what he can, and Jongin’s moans shatter through the room, musical in their own right. Baekhyun gets it wet, lets the saliva pool in his mouth as he sucks him off thoroughly, the spit sliding down over his fist. The sound is lewd, and his stomach goes warm at thought.

“Fuck,” Jongin curses. “You—”

Baekhyun stops sucking, pulling off Jongin’s cock with a pop. He opens his mouth, taps the head of Jongin’s dick against it. Jongin groans, hands tangling in the sheets.

“I what?” Baekhyun prompts.

“You’re too good at that,” Jongin says, brow furrowing. “I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come?” Baekhyun says.

“Y-yeah,” Jongin says. “Can I?”

Baekhyun slides his fingers down as swallows as much of Jongin’s cock as he can, nose brushing the lowest part of Jongin’s abdomen. Baekhyun tickles along the sensitive skin behind Jongin’s balls, pressing and massaging softly.

“Babe,” Jongin says sharply. “Baby, I’m—”

Jongin gets no further, just moaning brokenly as Baekhyun pulls off a bit, sucking as Jongin shoots into his mouth, hand gently stroking him through it. Jongin’s whines go kittenish as Baekhyun teases him at the end, swallowing before showing Jongin a clean tongue with a smile.

“Stop,” Jongin says, and he grimaces. “You’re too sexy.”

The praise sits hot in Baekhyun’s stomach. He straddles Jongin’s body, looks down at him. Even just listening to Jongin would probably be enough to get him off, but giving him pleasure, getting to see him come because of what Baekhyun’s intoxicating.

“You’’re the sexy one,” Baekhyun says, and he’s barely able to catch his breath, especially when Jongin starts to touch him with a curious hand. “Ah. Jongin.”

“What?” Jongin says. “Let me.”

Baekhyun shuts his eyes, just lets himself feel.

Jongin takes control, and his hand is wet with spit as he tightens his fist around Baekhyun. Baekhyun inhales sharply, the tell-tale signs of being close already creeping through his stomach. It shouldn’t be this fast. He’s—he thinks he’s just really fucking in love. And anything Jongin does is enough.

He throws his head back, stares at the ceiling, and breathes. Not so soon.

“It’s okay,” Jongin says. Baekhyun shuts his eyes for a moment. “Come on.”

Baekhyun lets his hips work, and he fucks into Jongin’s hand, faster, faster. He can’t help himself, looks down at where he and Jongin meet. It’s fucking obscene.

“F-fuck,” Baekhyun groans. “Jongin.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Jongin says. “I love you.”

Pleasure sinks into every pore, fractures out in bolts through his entire body, pulling all of his muscles tight as it washes over him. He moans loudly, unable to stop it, and he pumps his hips as Jongin strokes him through it.

It is a while before they clean themselves up, showering quickly before they fall back to bed, but it all proves to be worth it: he’s never slept better than he does in Jongin’s arms.

From then on, Baekhyun considers Touch It a highly underrated song.

It only gets worse, the skinship, if you could even call it that, and Baekhyun knows it isn’t just him. Jongin’s just as good as him at escalation, that much is obvious.

They dance, back to back. And Jongin sticks his ass out.

The fans go wild, the screams spiking when Baekhyun gropes him, patting Jongin on the butt at the end. Jongin flashes him that heart-shattering smile, and Baekhyun has to pull himself together a bit: he can’t melt into the stage just nine songs into their set list.

Highly underrated, indeed.