Mark likes Donghyuck like this:
It’s only 10 in the morning on an off day. If it depended on Mark, he would sleep in until 1 pm and spend the day lazing around, lying on his comfy bed between his mushy blankets while he watches video after video on YouTube.
But Donghyuck sneaks into his bedroom when the blinds are still drawn, the bedroom hot and damp after being closed throughout the entire night. Mark is still mostly asleep, but he’s always been able to pick up the sound of Donghyuck’s footsteps, even when he’s out of it, the way his slippers drag over the parquet floor in lazy steps.
He doesn’t even flinch when his mattress dips next to him in the almost darkness of the room, Donghyuck’s cold hands pressing against his bare shoulder to shake him awake.
“It’s only 10,” Mark mumbles, his lips dragging against the fabric of his pillow as he sneaks a glance to his digital clock through tired, squinted eyes.
“Don’t be difficult, hyung,” Donghyuck almost whines, his voice also slurred with sleep, but too loud in the quiet of the dorm. “Let’s hang out, it’s been a while.”
That’s what causes Mark to turn around and abandon every thought about spending the day in bed. Because it sure has been a while, SuperM recordings and practice forcing him to leave the house at dawn and returning when it’s already pitch black, with no time to do more than eat a rushed dinner with the members before his eyes start to drop with sleep.
He turns around slowly, warm blankets sliding off his naked torso, painting goose bumps up his arms at the cold air that’s sneaking in through the ajar door. He comes face to face with Donghyuck, half lit up by the light coming from the hallway.
And Mark likes him like this. With his long sandy hair still uncombed, Mark’s fingers getting caught in the knots there when he reaches out to run his hand through it. With his eyes dropped on the sides, eyelids heavy with sleep he hasn’t washed off yet, too focused on coming up here to drag Mark out of bed with him. With his old hoodie on, thrown over his shoulders messily, probably hurriedly, sliding down one of his arms and tugging his shirt with it, revealing the golden skin of his collarbones.
Mark doesn’t think anyone would be able to tell him no. So he tugs at Donghyuck’s hair until his fingers come loose, giggles at the scrunched up face he pulls, whining ‘that hurt, asshole’, and pushes him away so he can go to the bathroom and wash the remnants of sleep off his skin.
Donghyuck sneaks into the bathroom with him, old slippers dragging over the white tiles as he comes to stand next to Mark in front of the mirror. They look at each other with droopy eyes as they wash their faces, until Donghyuck’s lips curl into a crooked smile, the one he reserves for when he’s planning something.
Ten minutes later, Mark is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, breathless from laughing way too much, tingling cheeks and squinting eyes and a burning belly. He’s got foam all over his face, down his chest, there’s even some on the floor. Donghyuck has his back resting against the door, panting through parted lips, hoodie and shirt all splashed with water.
Mark is wide awake.
Mark has never been a huge fan of video games, but he likes Donghyuck like this.
They’ve been sitting on the floor of Mark’s bedroom for so long now, he’s lost track of time. His butt and back are starting to hurt, his thighs are going numb, and the edge of his bed is digging between his shoulder blades. But, no matter how uncomfortable it is, he can’t stop sneaking glances at Donghyuck.
He’s hunched on himself, the remote of the PlatStation gripped tightly between his hands, his eyebrows drawn in concentration. He does this thing, where he moves his entire body with his remote, as if willing his character in the game to move faster with his own strength. He’s got his muscles all tensed up, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his white teeth as he smashes the remote harder than necessary.
It’s cute, Mark thinks, the competitive side of him. He wouldn’t have made it as far as he has if it wasn’t for it. And it leaks into every aspect of his life, making him scream in frustration and throw the remote to the floor when he doesn’t do as well as he wanted, crossing his arms in front of his chest like an angry little kid.
“C’mon, Donghyuck,” Mark says, bumping their shoulders together. “You did pretty good.”
“You say that because you suck so bad at this you don’t even know what doing good here means.”
He stays mad for a while, full lips pursed into a pout, his naked thigh slapping against Mark’s with every jerk of his leg, bouncing up and down in frustration. Mark can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him, and it only gets stronger when Donghyuck turns around to frown at him.
“There’s a bright side,” Mark says, placing his hand on top of Donghyuck’s thigh. He looks down, stares at the paleness of his skin in contrast to Donghyuck, who seems to be always shining gold. “I suck so bad, you always end up winning.” And he digs his fingers into the flesh, squeezes the soft skin just because he can.
“How’s that the bright side?” Donghyuck pulls his leg out from underneath Mark’s touch just to throw it over his lap. “I’d rather lose to someone who knew what they were doing than win against you.”
“Why’d you wake me up to play with you, then? Huh?” Mark raises his eyebrows, fingers running up Donghyuck’s calf, until he can curl them around the back of his knee. “You aren’t gonna reply?” He wiggles his fingers on Donghyuck’s skin, threateningly.
And Mark likes Donghyuck like this. Pressing his lips into a tight line to suppress his laughter when Mark starts tickling him softly. Breaking into a wide smile when Mark travels his fingers upwards, pads digging into the underside of Donghyuck’s thighs. Falling onto the floor, shaking through laughter as Mark presses his hands to his tummy, to his sides, to his armpits. Everywhere he can reach.
He really likes Donghyuck like this, breathless and red faced and sweaty. Looking up at Mark with laughter in his eyes, as if he never wants to look away.
And Mark surely can’t look away, even if he wanted to.
Mark really likes Donghyuck like this: closed eyed, head pulled back, hair pushed away from his face as he sings softly.
The room is well lit up now, the window open to let in sunshine and breeze, light spilling all over Donghyuck’s skin and making him glow in all the right ways. He’s crossed legged on top of Mark’s bed like he owns it, his fingers twisted in the hems of his shorts as he sings softly, the hood pulled over his head.
And there’s something about the way Donghyuck sounds at times like this, in an empty room without anything to alter his voice, accompanied only by the sound of Mark’s guitar. Mark feels clumsy, fingers dragging over the chords in a raspy way, as if the roughness of his hands could never match the sweetness of Donghyuck’s voice. But they make it work somehow. They always make it work.
He pulls out his phone and hits record, because these are the kind of moments Mark loves to keep with him. When he’s out on day-long schedules, missing home and his bed and the comfortable place where Donghyuck’s neck meets his shoulder, always ready for Mark to hide away if he needs it, Mark can always play Donghyuck’s voice and close his eyes. A reminder of what’s always waiting for him at home.
And if he shares it later so the world can know why he likes Donghyuck like this (soft edged, and sweet looking and sounding like honey), well, he’s sure no one can blame him.
When Mark gets a text from Donghyuck asking him to come down to his room later that day, when they’ve been apart for only half an hour, he can do nothing but agree.
He removes his just applied face mask, puts on a hoodie and sticks his feet into his slippers. He grabs his guitar on his way out and heads there with no second thoughts. Because he sure likes the Donghyuck that’s waiting for him downstairs.
Mark is enchanted, can’t wipe the smile off his face when he looks at Donghyuck, because he loves him like this:
He’s slumped into his gaming chair, been hugging this pillow throughout the entire vlive, his cheek squished against the soft material as he peeks at Mark through his eyelashes, his long hair falling in front of his eyes. And they are in a dark room again, but Donghyuck manages to shine nonetheless, chirpy giggles coming from between his full lips at almost everything Mark says, voice ringing velvety sweet at every song that Mark plays.
Donghyuck is shyer than usual, nuzzling his pillow so he doesn’t have to look at Mark directly. He keeps throwing bad puns the way he does whenever he’s nervous, and Mark laughs at them anyway, because he finds him genuinely hilarious no matter what.
And once they turn the live off, Donghyuck stays hugging his pillow, half hidden behind it when he says:
“You haven’t kissed me all day.”
Mark gets ridiculously flustered at the words. Even after all this time, he feels his cheeks heating up right under his glasses, ears burning up under his hood. And Donghyuck doesn’t even take the chance to laugh at him, he keeps staring with wide eyes, oddly vulnerable in this domestic atmosphere that’s been curling around them all day.
So Mark puts his guitar aside on top of the bed, and he gets up. He digs his fingers into the soft pillow, pulls out it of Donghyuck’s loose grip to set it aside, too, so there’s nothing between them. And he comes to stand between Donghyuck’s legs.
He doesn’t kiss him right away, though. Even if Donghyuck looks up at him with twinkly eyes in the almost darkness of the room, lips pursed into a pout. He curls his arms around Donghyuck’s shoulders and pushes his face to his chest, so Mark can rest his cheek on top of Donghyuck’s head.
They stay like that for a few moments, basking in each other’s presence, in the damp warmth of the room that smells so achingly like Donghyuck, Mark’s chest swells every time he breathes in.
Donghyuck pushes his hands under Mark’s hoodie and shirt, right over the warm skin of his lower back. His palms are cold, fingertips feather light as he dances them up the line of Mark’s spine.
“What’s up with you?” He says, his voice all muffled against Mark’s chest, his breath warming up the fabric over his heart. “You’re never this cuddly.”
Mark presses his cheek harder against the top of Donghyuck’s head, ignoring the way his glasses crook over the bridge of his nose. “You’re cute,” he says, simply.
The giggle that bursts out of Donghyuck is unexpected, laughter racketing through his entire body and causing Mark to shake with him. He’s rarely this shy, easily flustered and embarrassed enough to hide away. But Mark loves him like this, soft and pliant under his thumbs.
“Of course I am,” Donghyuck replies, a beat too late.
Mark pulls back, then. He hooks his hands under Donghyuck’s jaw, index fingers right in the dip behind his ears so he can force him to look up at him. When he leans down, he brushes their noses together lightly. Donghyuck scrunches his up, squinting his eyes at Mark impatiently. Mark can’t hold his laughter in, and he rubs his nose against Donghyuck again and again.
“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” Donghyuck grunts. And then he’s rushing forward, catching Mark’s lips with his in a fast kiss.
It doesn’t really match the mood of the day, the way they are kissing. Mark kisses him open mouthed, sneaks his tongue into Donghyuck’s hot mouth just to be met halfway. It’s wet and hard and almost messy, Donghyuck’s hands clawing at the skin of Mark’s back in an attempt to pull him closer, his neck cramped over the back of his gaming chair, so Mark can keep him deeper, better.
It’s as if Donghyuck has been waiting for their lips to meet since he sneaked into Mark’s room all those hours ago, sleep clinging to every bit of his body, but eyes looking at Mark as if he didn’t want to look at anything else. And now he’s kissing him as if he doesn’t ever want to taste anything else.
Mark lets out a broken sigh into the kiss when Donghyuck’s nails trail up the skin of his back, far more desperate than he expected. They slow down before it gets too much, Mark’s hands curling into the long strands of Donghyuck’s hair so he can tug and pull him away. The soft moan that crawls up Donghyuck’s mouth almost forces him to dive in again.
He rests their foreheads together, brushing his lips over Donghyuck’s in slow caresses, Mark’s glasses resting uncomfortably between them. But he doesn’t want to pull away, not yet. And the hard grip Donghyuck has around him is enough to guess he wouldn’t let Mark move away if he tried to.
But there’s a loud knock on their door, then. Doyoung’s voice coming from the other side:
“Hurry up! The food is getting cold!”
When Donghyuck groans, Mark can feel it against his lips, under his fingers.
“I think we should quit,” he says, pushing Mark away for a second before he’s bringing him closer again, forcing him to sit down on Donghyuck’s lap. And Mark goes along with it, because that’s all he’s ever known how to do. “Leave this idol life. Move in together someplace quiet,” Donghyuck’s voice drips lower then, his hands find their way back underneath Mark’s clothes, his lips brushing over his jaw as he keeps talking. “Somewhere I won’t have to sneak into your room at 10 am. Somewhere I can slip into your bed at 1 am and stay there all night.”
Mark knows he’s joking, but he goes a little bit breathless at the thought. He’s surprised when he finds himself wanting something just like that so fiercely, he has to bring his hands up to Donghyuck’s shoulders, dig his heels there to keep himself grounded. And he thinks: sometime, in the future.
“You’re so dramatic,” he says instead, tilting his head to the side so Donghyuck can move his lips from Mark’s jaw down to the line of his neck.
“Yeah,” Donghyuck mumbles over his skin, sounding just as breathless as he nips at his throat, not hard enough to bruise. “But you didn’t say no.”
Mark pulls away one more time so he can look him in the eyes. And how could he ever say no, when he loves Donghyuck most like this: with glistering lips, swollen from kissing; with flushed cheeks, red from how much he’s feeling; with wide eyes that hide nothing from Mark, the fondness swimming in them is so painfully clear. He needs to lean down and kiss him again, softly, this time.
And if the food gets cold, they can always heat it up in the microwave later. They can always sit on the counter and share dried up meat while they listen to old recordings of their own covers. They can always stay there until their thighs go numb and their eyes start to fall shut. Messy hair from a day spent at home, stale mouths and rumpled clothes and shadows under their eyes.
And Mark will love Donghyuck like that, too.