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Contrary to what has transcended popular belief and attained something of scriptural status, Juyeon is not as oblivious as he seems. Which is a lot, he’s aware. He isn’t preoccupied with defending himself against accusations of gullibility because, well, they’re mostly true. But years of dissecting choreography down to the most minute angles have sensitized him to body language, if nothing else, so he knows that he’s not imagining it when Changmin starts acting different.
It begins… Juyeon’s not sure, actually. He tries to organize the timeline between days: Changmin gravitating to him after practice, dropping longer touches at his waist, sliding into the seat beside him at mealtimes more often than can be chalked up to coincidence. He stole Juyeon’s shirt last week and wore it to sleep, then showed up to breakfast with it dripping casually off his collar. Changmin isn’t all that small, but he’s definitely smaller than Juyeon, and the long line of his bared shoulder reacquainted Juyeon with that fact in ways that turned his stomach—not unpleasantly.
Maybe the switch flipped when they were filming Road to Kingdom, when they were running stunts day in and day out and Changmin turned boneless after they’d crawl back to the dorms, languishing in his exhaustion with his neck thrown back. Competition does strange things to your head. But the run of the show comprises a long roadmap of months in itself, and Juyeon can’t comb through every practice in his mind. Among eleven bodies in constant motion, Changmin hadn’t particularly stood out any more than he always had.
Juyeon thinks long and hard about that last part, wondering if he’s retconned it somehow. He thinks of Changmin front and center, effortlessly commanding. No, he decides, Changmin has always stood out, and that’s why Juyeon can’t detangle those vaguely hellish months from the ones before. He’s always looked at Changmin. But now, Changmin is…
“What are you watching?” says Juyeon mildly.
“Ah, nothing,” says Changmin, flipping his phone face down. There’s something coy about it.
Now, Changmin is looking back.
“Is it a secret?” asks Juyeon, dropping into the chair opposite. His legs outmeasure the width of the table, his ankle brushing Changmin’s underneath. “Do I have to guess?”
Changmin considers it. “Do you want to guess?”
“Sure,” says Juyeon easily, spreading his hands. “Is it embarrassing?”
There’s a smile pulling on the corner of Changmin’s mouth, coaxing it slowly up. “Depends.”
“What am I supposed to do with that,” Juyeon whines. “Play fair.”
“You could try asking a different question.”
“You could try answering me?”
Smiling fully, Changmin flips his screen back up. “You’re not very good at this,” he says. He unlocks his phone with a few taps and turns it to face Juyeon. “Have you seen that the fans are circulating this on Twitter? Like a fancam.”
The video in question is a clip from their practice video for the remixed version of Reveal, specifically Juyeon’s ending stunt. He watches himself flip in 360p, hooking his legs around the stuntman’s shoulders before tipping them both over. It continues playing on loop as Juyeon pushes the phone back. “You’re watching this? You saw it a dozen times in person.”
“Mm,” agrees Changmin. “It was better then.”
Juyeon’s lips part. He doesn’t want to—to assume, or to be hasty—
“Did you know,” Changmin continues, “that we’re probably alone for the next couple hours?”
“Yeah,” says Juyeon. He’d seen the message in the Kakao group. The others are trying out a new restaurant tonight, which Juyeon had declined a little sadly on account of recovering from a stomach bug. “Why didn’t you go?”
“Because you didn’t go.”
For all that Juyeon lacks in speed on the uptake, he knows what he’s hearing now. What he’s seeing. Changmin shifts prettily across from him, all upturned eyes and tousled hair. He’s wearing another stolen shirt, Juyeon realizes after a beat. It’s not terribly hard for laundry mix-ups to happen on their own, but they’re not roommates and they’re not the same shirt size and Changmin is not doing this on accident. “Are you,” he begins uncertainly, then falters. His mouth is dry. How to say this?
“I always wanted to try doing that stunt with you,” says Changmin, retaking the wheel. “Not the handstand part. But as the other guy.”
“I’d snap your neck,” says Juyeon, incredulous. “Come on. What if I accidentally choked you out? With my legs?”
Changmin tilts his head and looks altogether too satisfied with the idea.
“Oh.” Juyeon flushes despite himself.
“Oh?” Changmin puts his cheek in hand and studies him. “Juyeon. Are you going to make me ask for it? I’ve been wearing your clothes for weeks. I’ve been—I’m not hiding it.”
The pace of Juyeon’s heartbeat surges from quick to thundering. He wants to be sure. “What are you asking for?”
“As much as you’ll give me,” says Changmin, dimpling.
Changmin groans low and sweet as Juyeon licks over his pulse. He twines his hands behind Juyeon’s neck and presses into him, encouraging. He’s become unexpectedly shyer after Juyeon had breached the space between them, clinging and burying his face in the crook of Juyeon’s neck as soon as their eyes meet. It’s cute, Juyeon muses. He sucks at Changmin’s neck with renewed enthusiasm, working the skin with a hint of teeth that makes Changmin’s knees buckle. Juyeon catches him round the waist.
“You’re eager,” says Changmin once he’s recovered his breath some. His lips are wet and obscenely red. They’d kissed for what felt like hours, but Juyeon can’t resist swooping back in another time, and they both shiver at the slick sound of their parting.
“You made me—like this—fuck.” Juyeon’s head snaps back so hard it hits the wall, but he has other priorities. Namely, Changmin dropping to his knees and cupping the swell of Juyeon’s cock in his palm. He gives it an experimental squeeze. “Changmin.”
He looks innocently up, fiddling with the waistband of Juyeon’s sweats. “Yes?”
“I,” says Juyeon and manages nothing further because Changmin has yanked down Juyeon’s pants and boxers in one hungry swipe and taken Juyeon’s cock into his impossibly hot mouth.
“No, go on,” says Changmin, pulling off with a pop. He wraps deft fingers around the base and licks, kittenish, at the head. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Fuck off,” says Juyeon through gritted teeth.
“What, you want me to stop?” Changmin thumbs at the slit, almost amused at the bead of precome that forms in response. He licks that off, too. “I can do that, I guess.”
Juyeon raises his eyes to the ceiling. “Please.”
“There we go,” Changmin hums, then swallows him in a single, elegant dip of his head. He’s recovered the upper hand spectacularly, powerful on his knees in a way that Juyeon could never have fathomed were he not currently observing it front row. “Did you know,” he adds, pulling off again for air and tracing his tongue up the side of Juyeon’s straining cock, “that I thought about this all the time?”
What little air still inhabits Juyeon’s lungs exits in a whoosh. “About… sucking me off?”
“Yeah.” Changmin’s eyes are clouded. He works his fist with a little more grip, more earnest, taking a detour to mouth wetly at Juyeon’s balls. “I thought about what it would be like—” he begins making his way back up “—to be between your thighs—” the tip of his tongue catches on the sensitive underside “—if you'd come down my—”
“Fuck, okay, stop.” Juyeon guides his head off with a shaky hand. “I’m really going to come if you keep talking like that.”
“That’s kind of the whole point,” says Changmin, unimpressed, but quiets when Juyeon strokes his thumb over the swollen give of his bottom lip.
“If it’s okay with you,” says Juyeon, “I’d like to fuck you first.”
Color blooms sharp against Changmin’s cheekbones. He lets Juyeon pull him up to his feet and kiss him again, open-mouthed and a little sloppy with want, before answering. “As much as you’ll give me,” he repeats, slightly dizzy now. “Isn’t that what I said?”
Juyeon walks him to the bed and bears down, skimming both palms up underneath Changmin’s—no, Juyeon’s—shirt. Right now, he thinks he could give Changmin anything, everything. He rucks the fabric up to Changmin’s nipples and dips his head to lave his tongue over one peak. Immediately, he earns a gasp for his trouble. This is information he can work with. Juyeon brackets Changmin’s hips between his knees and latches on in earnest, catching Changmin’s nipple with teeth and lips and an almost studious dedication to making his breath stutter like that again. He hears it again, finally, when he pulls off and sucks another hickey into the gentle slope of Changmin’s pec, pressing a finger against the reddish splotch to christen his work.
Changmin keens at the ache, lids dropping to half-mast. “Juyeon,” he says, nearly panting. “Juyeon, look, your hands cover…” One hand drifts down his abdomen, explanatory.
When Juyeon looks, the dense pool of heat in his stomach doubles viciously in gravity, drawing all his blood downward so fast it makes his vision flicker white for a moment. His hands easily span Changmin’s narrow waist. He could hold all of Changmin between his palms. Changmin looks down the lean plane of his body at him, daring him to grab tighter. But Juyeon shouldn’t, because it would leave marks—bruises, his handprints—he has to bite back a tremulous moan.
“Are you going to fuck me or not,” demands Changmin after another few minutes of hazy making out. He reaches down and fists Juyeon’s cock, petulant, then glances at it with a degree of suspicion. “If we’re going to try and fit that in me, we’d better get a move on. You’re huge.”
“Thanks,” Juyeon says stupidly, and Changmin laughs at him. It makes Juyeon smile for a moment, too. He touches Changmin’s dimple a little fondly, which turns into cradling his face, which turns into their mouths resealing. Changmin kisses sweet at first and filthy when he gets restless. He tugs Juyeon’s lip between his teeth and bites hard. “Okay, okay—lube?”
“I’ll get it.” The lithe stretch of Changmin’s torso as he twists off the bed is bewitching. He takes the opportunity to shed his clothes entirely, and Juyeon follows suit. When they’re resituated, completely bared to each other and pink in the face, Juyeon can’t help but take a moment to admire.
“Come on,” Changmin complains, shimmying a pillow beneath his hips.
Juyeon rolls his eyes and pops the lube cap. “Don’t be pushy.”
“You like it,” he fires back, unwilling to concede even as his flush deepens when Juyeon parts his thighs. He’s not wrong.
The first touch of Juyeon’s slick finger to Changmin’s rim has them both sucking in a breath, which makes Changmin laugh embarrassedly again. “Fuck, why are we being like this,” he says, covering his face with one hand. His ears are flaming. “Go ahead. I want it.”
“Me too,” murmurs Juyeon, hesitantly circling a few more times before he presses in. Changmin tenses but takes it up to the knuckle. The muscles of his stomach jump when Juyeon pushes further, but he bites his fist and nods permission. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” says Changmin, hiding his eyes with the bend of his elbow.
“Then can I see your face?” Juyeon crooks his finger. “Want to see how pretty you are.”
Changmin’s entire body trembles, and Juyeon stills his hand curiously. The elbow comes down in slow motion. In a thrilling new plot twist, Changmin is vividly, deliciously red from his cheeks down to his collarbones.
“Oh,” says Juyeon softly. “Is that what you like?”
“Don’t be a jerk about it,” Changmin mutters. “I’ll kill you.”
A smile unfurls, sappy against Juyeon’s will, as he brushes a fleeting kiss against Changmin’s jaw. “I’ll play nice, promise.”
Huffing, Changmin turns his chin up and meets Juyeon with tongue, licking inside him like he wants to live there. He traces the back of Juyeon’s teeth, flicks at the point of his incisor. “Why are you staring,” he grouses. “You’re looking at me like you want—you’re going to—”
“I’m going to?” prompts Juyeon, catching Changmin’s earlobe and biting down.
“Like—yes, there, Juyeon. Juyeon.” The long, opulent line of his neck tips back, unfolds like meters of silk. His breath has begun to come in a pleasant staccato. A jagged rhythm, ah, ah, ah as Juyeon eases a second finger into him.
Juyeon’s focus drifts down to Changmin’s cock, desperately hard and dripping and somehow every bit as pretty as the rest of him. “I do want,” he admits, licking over the tip to hear Changmin curse. “To eat you. Take you apart. I couldn’t stop looking if I tried.”
Changmin’s cock twitches against his lips. Vindicated, Juyeon sucks the head into his mouth and scissors his fingers against devastating tightness. Then he dips his head still lower, struck by sudden inspiration, and laps at Changmin’s opening.
“Juyeon,” gasps Changmin. His voice splinters with shock. “That’s—not there!”
“Why, it doesn’t feel good?”
“…It does,” Changmin says after a moment. “But you want to?”
“Of course,” says Juyeon, grinning up at him from the V of his legs. “I want everything from you.”
Changmin’s eyes honest-to-god roll back a little. “Then it’s all yours.”
He takes two fingers, three with some added encouragement. He responds best to Juyeon mouthing at his chest as he goes, squirming as Juyeon steadily works him open. The sight of him is surreal, the amber mess of his hair, the fine gloss of sweat on his neck. He’s thoroughly frustrated by the time he’s comfortable with three, fucking down against Juyeon’s hand with his lip caught between his teeth. “Enough,” he says, “seriously, I can handle it.”
“You have to tell me if it hurts,” says Juyeon. “Shit, we don’t have a—”
“It’s fine.” Changmin’s impatient enough not to blush about it. “Just give it to me.”
Juyeon snaps his mouth shut.
“You know what,” says Changmin. “Scoot up.” He herds Juyeon up the bed, smooths his hands over the line of Juyeon’s shoulders. Juyeon’s brain is stuck buffering, unable to make sense of the past minute while Changmin clenches his jaw and aligns Juyeon with his entrance and starts to slide down, down. He’s a vice around Juyeon’s cock, searing and dreamlike. Several times, he stops, breathing through the burn of the stretch.
“Are you okay?” frets Juyeon, fluttering his hands from Changmin’s upper arms to his hips. “Is this too much?”
Changmin loops his arms around Juyeon’s neck and resolutely seats himself to the hilt.
He shakes for a moment in Juyeon’s lap, then rises on his knees and unsteadily drops down again. “The fuck are you this big for,” he pants, sweat beading in earnest at his hairline. His fingers scrabble at Juyeon’s nape. He rocks their hips together, graceful even through the exertion. “You’re going to split me open.”
“Changmin,” Juyeon groans.
“Or maybe not.” With some effort, Changmin releases the tension in his brow and meets Juyeon’s eyes. A challenge, now. “Since I’m doing all the work. You’ve got this massive dick and you won’t put it to good use?”
Juyeon’s skin prickles with heat.
“Why don’t you show me,” says Changmin, grinding in slow, sinuous figure eights. His lashes flutter like hummingbird wings. “If you’re capable of anything impressive.”
“This is what you want?” confirms Juyeon.
Changmin exhales into the damp hollow of Juyeon’s throat. “This is what I want.”
“Okay,” says Juyeon, and wastes no time pushing Changmin flat on his back and driving into him hard, hips snapping, his hand a steady weight on Changmin’s ribcage.
A high, wavering noise emerges from the depths of Changmin’s throat. He’s slipped apart from self-consciousness, though, and makes the same sound again insistently when Juyeon grips his ass and pulls to meet each thrust. Being a dancer, Juyeon reflects between jolting waves of pleasure, is good for more than performing for an audience. It helps you perform in secret, too; lets Changmin’s legs come up and over Juyeon’s shoulders, easy; reinforces desire with an iron backbone forged through a thousand days of practice. Changmin fucks back against Juyeon like he’s being scored on it, like this sweaty, spine-melting thing is their choreography, their duet.
“I love hearing you,” confesses Juyeon brokenly. “You sound so good. You’re so good for me.”
Changmin shudders and claws Juyeon’s shoulder.
“Beautiful,” Juyeon continues with the despairing sense that this word is not enough. The way that Changmin looks right now, brushed in creamy tones of pink and flayed open by his want, wet and stretched around Juyeon’s cock and taking it like he was made for this, like Juyeon was made for this, like they were made for each other and to fit together—
“Almost,” Changmin rasps, struggling to keep his eyes open. He bows up off the sheets, his chest sliding against Juyeon’s. “I’m—ah—so close…”
Juyeon takes Changmin in hand and strokes once, twice. “You’re perfect,” he says, “Changmin, you’re—” and Changmin is spilling over his stomach with a wanton, bitten-off cry. The subsequent clench is more than Juyeon can bear and he pulls out just before the wave breaks, too incoherent to string together words. He fists himself over the splatter on Changmin’s torso, watching the set of Changmin’s swollen mouth. Even this fucked out, he looks assured, unrepentant.
“Come on my face,” Changmin offers.
The cord in Juyeon’s belly snaps, and he does. Tension unravels from his gut, shaking through the whole of him in luxurious waves and painting Changmin’s face in pearlescent stripes. Juyeon’s vision takes several long moments to right itself, blissfully fractured, and when it does, his spent cock responds so quickly it almost hurts: Changmin, decadent, come splattered from lash to jaw. Grinning, he opens his mouth and shows Juyeon the come he’d caught on his tongue, too, and he swallows with relish. Even his dimple looks indecent.
Juyeon blinks at him. He’s halfway certain that his soul just went up in a puff of smoke. He’s significantly more certain that he could go again in five if Changmin keeps looking at him like that, tracing his fingers through the mess on his cheek and dragging it to the catlike crook of his lips.
“Let me clean you up,” Juyeon says when he finally remembers that language is a tool at his disposal. “Stay here, I’ll bring a towel or something.”
Changmin catches his wrist. “The shower’s big enough for two.”