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It’s not hard to tell when Dongju is upset, not really. Especially when Youngjo has known him as long as he has and knows him as well as he does. He gets quiet, withdrawn, more pouty than usual. He’s been like that tonight, Youngjo has noticed, since they’ve been home from schedules. He fights the instinct to pry, knowing that Dongju knows well enough to come to one of his hyungs if something is dire, if he really needs help. When the majority of them call it a night, Youngjo retreating to his single room and the others to their shared room, he expects Dongju will either sleep of his funk or confide in one of the other members.
What he doesn’t expect, however, is for Dongju to come to his room some hours later, the slight creak of the door startling Youngjo out of the hazy sleep he had fallen into. He has an open-door policy for any members to use his room as an escape from whatever they may need. It’s not entirely unheard of for one of them to crawl into his bed in the dead of night, seeking quiet or warmth or, perhaps, just his presence.
Youngjo has long taken up the role of being, well, whatever his members may need him to be. He’s used to the other members looking up to him, as they have no official leader, and he’s the eldest. Sometimes they need a stern voice of reason, an ear for listening, a shoulder to cry on. A hand to hold, a body to hug, a mouth for kisses. It’s hard to describe what the lot of them are, really, but what’s easy to say is that Youngjo loves them all with his entire being, and they love him back in some way or another. They all have their own special relationships with each other, too, something Youngjo does not meddle in but enjoys hearing about when they regale tales about each other to him.
Over time, kisses have turned from small offers of comfort to something more, and Youngjo has added pleasure to the list of things he provides his members with, although he knows they all mess around with each other. It’s not often they can do anything in more than twos and, occasionally, threes, except the one night in the States where the five of them had ganged up on Youngjo in his shared hotel room with Geonhak to show their “appreciation,” as they so put it. That had been a night to remember, a perfect little pocket of happiness Youngjo has stored away to get him through the loneliest nights, the darkest thoughts.
But none of that matters at this moment because Dongju is shuffling his way further into the room, quiet like he’s scared of waking Youngjo. It’s dark, but Youngjo can tell it’s Dongju by the shape of his silhouette in the dim moonlight, the way his long hair falls around his face, and the plushies he has clutched impossibly tight in his hands. Youngjo keeps still since Dongju seems to think he’s still sleeping, and he’s unsure of what the younger is looking for. Dongju reaches the edge of the bed and stands there unsurely. Youngjo can feel the nerves radiating off the boy in waves, so he ends his charade, shifting minutely like he’s waking up and blinking blearily up at Dongju’s form.
Youngjo shifts obediently to the other side of the bed, used to this song and dance, and mumbles, “C’mere, baby,” loud enough for Dongju to hear. Dongju nearly launches himself onto the bed, crawling under the covers and into Youngjo’s awaiting arms, his plush toys crushed between them. At first, Youngjo is content with going back to sleep like this because maybe physical closeness and comfort are all that Dongju is seeking. That is until he feels the minute tremors going through Dongju’s body, hears how his breathing is labored and shuttered. Dongju reaches for the closest part of Younjo to him, consequently, the bottom hem of his sleep shirt, and fists it so tight Youngjo isn’t sure whether he should be worried for the fabric or for the boy’s knuckles more.
It’s crystal clear, at that moment, that Dongju is trying his damndest not to cry, and Youngjo will not sit idly by and let whatever is bothering Dongju so badly continue to eat at him.
“Baby,” Youngjo rasps, voice sleep deep, and Dongju trembles in his arms. Youngjo brings a hand up to cup the side of Dongju’s face, guiding him far enough away for Youngjo to get a look at him. As expected, tears are pooled, crystalline, in Dongju’s eyes, but they’ve yet to properly fall, even as Dongju’s face screws up in either an attempt to keep them at bay or in reaction to Youngjo looking at him so closely. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
Dongju sniffles, blinking rapidly, and those long, long eyelashes of his make the teardrops finally fall, spilling silver over his cheeks in the moonlight. “Hyung,” he croaks, voice strangled in a way that Youngjo knows means that he’s been fighting back these tears for a while now. “Hyung, I’m scared.”
The words seem to make the dam break, as Dongju’s face crumples even more, and the tears continue to fall. Youngjo hushes him, pulling the youngest back to his chest so he can hide his face, carding his long fingers through Dongju’s soft hair in an attempt to comfort him. He makes soothing noises and says nonsense, placating words to calm Dongju down, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Dongju will have to work through these tears first, it seems.
It’s not hard to guess what Dongju is scared over. In less than a week, they leave for the States for a month-long tour. They’re going to more than double the stops they did for the Fly With Us tour, and they’ll be seeing ToMoons, new and old, that they haven’t gotten to have proper contact with in nearly two years. It’s weighing heavy on all of their minds, the pressure to do well and to perform better than they ever have before.
However, Youngjo can’t be entirely sure that that’s what is upsetting Dongju, and he has long learned to not jump to assumptions, so he settles in to wait out Dongju’s tears, stroking his hair, his face, his back. Anything to offer any semblance of comfort that he can.
It’s impossible to tell how much time passes, with no clock in view and Youngjo unable to reach his phone with Dongju in his arms, but eventually, the tears seem to slow, and Dongju’s quiet sobs dim even more. Youngjo gives him a few more moments to collect himself before pressing his nose into Dongju’s hair and squeezing his arms around him with intent.
“Talk to me, baby,” he urges gently. “What’s got you so worked up?”
Dongju sniffles some more before working his way out of Youngjo’s arms to sit cross-legged beside him instead. Youngjo forces himself up as well, propping himself on one hand while using the other to cup Dongju’s cheek and wipe some of the mess of tears away.
Dongju cradles his plushies in his lap, picking at the seams nervously as he considers his words. Youngjo gives him time, knowing from failed attempts in the past that pushing for information will only make Dongju clam up more. To be quite honest, it’s not common for Dongju to be the one needing help. They’d once called him their counseling doll on a variety show, and it certainly wasn’t far from the truth. Dongju is the one they usually all flock to when needing kind words and advice. However, Youngjo is merely happy that Dongju trusts him enough to come to him in his own times of need.
Dongju uses the sleeve of his long sweater to scrub the tears off the other cheek that Youngjo can’t reach. “What if I m-mess up, hyung,” Dongju mumbles, voice so quiet in the still air between them that Youngjo nearly misses it, despite sitting right next to him. “What if I d-do bad and disappoint ToM-moonies?”
“Oh, babe,” Youngjo coos. He offers his hand for Dongju to take, knowing he will if he wants to. Dongju unclenches his hand from his plushies and takes the proffered hand, squeezing it gratefully. “You’ve been practicing so hard. We all have been. I know you’ll perform your best, and ToMoon will be grateful for that. And if you ever, ever happen to stumble- the rest of us will be there to catch you, you know that, right?” The literally and metaphorically goes unsaid, or at least Youngjo hopes it does.
“I know,” Dongju sniffs, but he still sounds so miserable. “But I j-just, I just can’t get out of my own head. I keep thinking about the things that could go wr-wrong, even though I know it probably won’t h-happen.”
Youngjo frowns minutely, unsure of what to offer the younger. Youngjo knows all too well that placating words don’t do much for the demons in your own head. Youngjo has always turned to music and composing to drown those thoughts away.
“What do you need, baby?” Youngjo asks gently, stroking his thumb over the back of Dongju’s hand. “What do you need to get out of your head?”
Dongju pauses, eyes dropping to his lap, lips pulling into a pout as he considers. His cheeks are still shiny, eyes swollen and red in the dim light. Youngjo aches, somewhere in the pit of his chest, to soothe away Dongju’s pain. Dongju inhales, sharp and sudden, his hand tightening around Youngjo’s. His gaze flits upward, looking at Youngjo from under those long lashes. It makes him look coy and much more innocent than Youngjo knows him to be.
“A kiss, hyung,” Dongju finally says, tilting his head back up, so he’s looking levelly at Youngjo. “C-can I have a kiss?”
And Youngjo has always been weak to the things that his members ask of him, the genuine things, at least. Still, he doesn’t think he’s ever been as powerless as he has been in this moment, with Dongju sad and solemn in front of him, but still as pretty as he’s ever been, and asking so sweetly for something that Youngjo can easily give.
“Of course, baby,” Youngjo assures, letting go of Dongju’s hand so he can reach up to cup his face instead. He moves easily onto his knees to reach Dongju better and brings his other hand up to join the first. He presses a tender kiss to the soft space between Dongju’s eyebrows, and Dongju’s eyes slip closed on a soft sigh. Youngjo presses more kisses down the line of Dongju’s nose, pressing a sweet one to the very tip before he uses his grip to tilt Dongju’s head back just enough to slot their lips together in a warm, gentle kiss.
Dongju trembles in his arms once again, but for significantly better reasons. Dongju makes a soft noise that gets lost between them, and Youngjo absorbs it greedily. It can be hard getting Dongju to make much noise, sometimes, and so Youngjo treasures every single one he gets the pleasure of hearing. I had to learn to be quiet when I was young, Dongju had explained sheepishly one time, head pillowed on Geonhak’s stomach, legs thrown over Youngjo’s lap, his cheeks still burning red with afterglow and contrasting so prettily with his then-blonde hair. You don’t get much privacy as a twin. They’ve slowly unwound that way of thinking for Dongju over time, but sometimes he still finds difficulty in voicing his pleasure without feeling unbearably awkward.
“Hyung,” Dongju breathes as they part, hands steadying themselves on Youngjo’s broad chest. “Hyung, I want more than a kiss.”
Youngjo’s eyes flit to the alarm clock on the nightstand, registering just how late it is. But if this is what Dongju wants, Youngjo is more than happy to give it to him. It wouldn’t be the first time any of them have stayed up until ungodly late for a little bit of play.
“Greedy,” Youngjo teases, kissing the corner of Dongju’s mouth that has twisted up in a cheeky grin. His spirits seem to be returning, somewhat, and Youngjo couldn’t be more pleased. “What does my baby want?”
Dongju trembles once again, lips parting on a gasp, and Youngjo cocks his head, considering. It can’t be the pet name- he calls Dongju baby more than he calls him by name, either stage or birth. So, it must be the casual, possessive my tossed in front of it, and Youngjo smiles wolfishly.
“Do you want me to show you that you’re mine?” Youngjo asks, crowding into Dongju’s space, hovering over him in a way he knows to be on just the right side of overwhelming. “That you’re ours, that you deserve to be right here?”
Dongju makes a small, aborted noise in the back of his throat, and his eyes blow wide, lust trickling into his bloodstream and replacing the sadness that had been there previously. “Hyung-” he says, tremulous, and cuts himself off. Youngjo tsks at him.
“Words, baby,” he reminds gently. “Tell hyung what you want.” Communication is essential, after all, especially in a relationship with multiple partners. He wants Dongju to set the boundaries upfront so that Youngjo knows how far he can push, knows what it is that Dongju really wants.
He watches Dongju swallow, his throat bobbing with a dry click. “Take care of me?” he finally asks, eyes pleading. “Please, hyung…”
Youngjo softens his smile, stroking his thumbs over Dongju’s cheeks reverently. “Of course. Whatever my baby wants.” He shifts his hands down to grip Dongju’s waist, using the leverage to shift the younger, so he’s laying on his back on the bed. Dongju goes easily, moving so he’s laying down comfortably. Youngjo plucks the plush toys from Dongju’s lap and sets them carefully on the floor (and if he intentionally puts their innocent little faces pointing away from the bed, well, no one knows except for himself and Dongju’s quiet laughter).
He leverages himself back over Dongju, pressing gentle kisses over his cheeks before nosing under his jaw and kissing down the column of his throat. “Hyung,” Dongju whines. “Don’t tease.”
“I’m not teasing,” Youngjo returns, running one hand under Dongju’s sweater and feeling over soft skin as he pushes it up to Dongju’s chest. “I’m taking care of you, just like you asked.” Dongju stays silent, but Youngjo can virtually feel the pout being aimed down at him. He ignores it, pressing a kiss to Dongju’s sternum and moving down, interspersing kisses with laving sucks and little nibbles. Dongju twitches under his ministrations, little gasps escaping his lips. Youngjo curls his fingers into the waistband of Dongju’s sleep pants and underwear, flicking his gaze upward to gauge Dongju’s reaction. Dongju’s biting his lip, lashes lowered, and he gives Youngjo a slight nod when their eyes meet.
With silent permission granted, Youngjo pulls Dongju’s waistband down past his thighs, helping him shimmy them off and kicking them to the end of the bed. He kisses his way back up Dongju’s thighs, admiring all the new skin revealed, tinged pale in the moonlight. Dongju’s pretty all over, and that extends to his cock, long and slender and more than half hard already. Youngjo wraps one hand around the base of Dongju’s cock, placing the tip against his tongue, looking back up at Dongju. He is teasing now, can’t help but play a little. There’s a pink blush painting over Dongju’s cheeks, his brows furrowed. “Hyung,” he whines petulantly, kicking a foot against Youngjo’s side. Youngjo huffs out a laugh, closing his mouth around the head suckling gently, delighting in the strangled moan that gets stuck in Dongju’s throat.
Youngjo can feel Dongju hardening more in his mouth as he sucks, and by the time he starts taking more of him in, Dongju is nearly fully hard. He bobs carefully, going slow because he wants to pamper Dongju, and he also can’t risk wrecking his throat when they’ve got more days of practice ahead of them. He hazards another glance upward to find Dongju’s head thrown back, the long line of his neck exposed. Youngjo smiles to himself, using Dongju’s distracted state to reach around the side of the bed and pluck the bottle of lube stashed under the mattress free. He pops the cap open, and the noise seems so loud in the relative silence of the room. Dongju whimpers, thighs twitching at the sound.
“Please,” he babbles. “Please, please, hyung, please.”
Dongju doesn’t entirely seem to know what he’s begging for, but Youngjo’s not bothered. He’s got his own plans, after all. He coats several fingers in lube, letting it warm up slightly. He pulls off Dongju’s cock with a wet pop before straightening himself up onto his knees. He lifts one of Dongju’s legs upward with his clean hand, hooking it over his hip and wrapping his arm around Dongju’s thigh to keep it there. Dongju looks so disheveled beneath him, hair mussed against the pillows, his shirt still rucked up to his chest, his hard cock now leaking against his tummy. Youngjo dips his slick fingers down to prod at his hole, watching as the blush on the boy’s face deepens and spreads down toward his neck.
Dongju has always been sensitive and was always so tight, no matter how many times they’ve done this. They have to take care to open him up slowly, gently, but their patience is always rewarded by sweet mewls and cries, which Youngjo thinks is more than worth it.
As such, Youngjo takes his time now. He circles Dongju’s hole, spreading the lube around, before pressing his middle finger in with intention. Dongju gasps at the sensation, eyes screwing up closed again. Youngjo presses reverent kisses to the inside of Dongju’s knee, hoping to soothe and just because the smooth skin is just too inviting. He gets to the second knuckle and pauses, letting Dongju adjust. He’s been ignoring his own pleasure up to this point, but the momentary pause has him reminded of how tight his own sleep pants suddenly are, and he can’t help but rut slightly against the back of Dongju’s thigh.
“Hyung,” Dongju finally says, voice strangled. He blinks his eyes open, looking at Youngjo with a pleading gaze. “More. More, please?”
Youngjo couldn’t disobey even if he wanted to. He nudges his pointer finger along with the first until Dongju opens up and lets the second finger join. Youngjo scoots closer so he can rest back on his heels. He knows the kind of pleasure he can bring Dongju with just these two fingers, and he has no plans of actually fucking him tonight, anyway. So when Dongju seems comfortable enough, even though he still feels so tight, Youngjo crooks his fingers up and starts thrusting them gently.
A strangled cry claws its way out of Dongju’s throat, and he throws his hands over his face as if trying to hide. “Ah ah,” Youngjo reprimands, punctuating it by rubbing over Dongju’s prostate ruthlessly. “Let me see that pretty face, baby.”
Dongju cries out again but does as he’s told. He fists his hands in the sheets instead, and Youngjo can see fresh tears gathering in Dongju’s eyes, that pretty blush nearly to his chest now. Every time Youngjo brushes over Dongju’s prostate, the boy’s neglected cock throbs, leaking more precum into the puddle already pooling in the dip of his navel. Youngjo bites his lip as he drinks in his fill of Dongju’s pretty form, his own cock attempting to demand attention. But tonight’s not about him; it’s about Dongju.
“So pretty for me, baby,” Youngjo purrs. Dongju whines again, mouth dropping open. “So, so pretty. How did we get so lucky?”
“Stop it,” Dongju whines petulantly.
“Never,” Youngjo bites back, teasing. “You’ll always be my pretty baby.”
The words have their desired effect as Dongju keens, hips rolling like he can’t help but chase his own pleasure. Youngjo notes that Dongju doesn’t once try to reach for his own cock, interestingly, but Dongju’s always been sensitive, one of the few of them able to cum from prostate stimulation alone. Perhaps that’s what he wants tonight.
That information slotted away, Youngjo redoubles his efforts, rubbing over Dongju’s prostate with a purpose. Youngjo drinks in every cry he pulls out of Dongju’s throat, cataloging every play of pleasure over his features. It’s times like these he wishes he could take pictures- mementos to capture these beautiful little moments with his members. But the existence of such things would be more of a liability than anything else, and so Youngjo contents himself with taking mental snapshots to remember instead.
“Hyung,” Dongju eventually gasps out. “Hyung, c-close.”
Youngjo hums, pressing more kisses to Dongju’s knee. “Gonna cum for me, baby?” Dongju seems too gone for more words at the moment, but he nods desperately, cries punching out of his throat at every brush of Youngjo’s fingers. “Come on, baby. Cum for me, then.”
It only takes a moment more before Dongju’s cumming, clenching hard around Youngjo’s fingers as his cock bobs and spurts white up his own stomach and chest, nearly hitting his shirt that’s still crumpled around his collarbones. Youngjo works him through it, clenching the fingers of his free hand into Dongju’s thigh as Dongju’s hole milks his fingers like they were his cock instead. Youngjo’s a breath away from cumming in his own pants like a teenager, but he holds out because he doesn’t want to deal with the mess, and the time on the alarm clock is ticking alarmingly closer to when they’re supposed to be awake for the day’s schedules.
He pulls his fingers out gently when the aftershocks pass in Dongju’s body, and he stands on wobbly legs to get the packet of wet wipes out of the nightstand kept around just for these occasions. He pulls several free and cleans up Dongju’s tummy, kissing over his cheeks in apology for the sudden cold. Satisfied, he pitches the dirtied tissues into the wastebasket. He helps Dongju get his underwear and sleep pants back on before climbing back into the bed, pulling Dongju into his arms in a mirror of when Dongju had first come into his room.
“Hyung,” Dongju whines, more than half-asleep already after the exhaustion of crying and a good orgasm finally catch up to him. “You didn’t cum.”
Youngjo winces at the reminder, his cock still more than half-hard and insistent. But it wouldn’t be the first time he had to ride out an uncomfortable erection, and he can already feel sleep tugging at the edges of his brain. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures, pressing a kiss into Dongju’s hair. “Just sleep, baby.”
Dongju doesn’t have to be told twice, and Youngjo nods off soon after him.
He’s awoken much too soon hearing someone else enter his room, and he slits his eyes open to find a sleepy-looking Seoho, natural hair fluffy and curly because he couldn’t be bothered to blow dry it before he went to bed. He’s backlit by the morning sun, a fiery halo piercing through the fuzzy hairs sticking up around his head.
He approaches the bed and gives Youngjo the sort of non-smile that would seem cold and unaffected to anyone that doesn’t know him, but Youngjo does know him, and he can see the fondness seeping into the lines of Seoho’s face.
“Morning,” Seoho says gently, and Youngjo makes a soft noise in his throat in response, not wanting to wake Dongju, who’s still in his arms. Seoho wrinkles his nose as he kneels next to them. “It smells like sex and baby wipes in here.” Youngjo doesn’t even dignify the comment with a response.
Seoho shifts his gaze to Dongju, who’s sleeping peacefully between them. He reaches up a hand to pet through Dongju’s hair gently, and Dongju preens into the touch like a cat.
“Thank you for taking care of him,” Seoho says softly but full of meaning.
“‘Course,” Youngjo croaks, voice not quite ready to be awake yet.
Seoho leans over and captures Youngjo’s lips in a sweet kiss, heedless of both of their morning breath. Youngjo hums happily in response. Seoho pulls away and drops a kiss onto Dongju’s temple. “Keonhee and I are going to make breakfast. Sleep for a little longer, while you can.”
Youngjo gladly takes him up on the offer, eyes already slipping back closed as Seoho stands and leaves the room. Youngjo is content to catch a bit more shut-eye, that is, until Dongju starts squirming in his arms like he’s trying to get up like a heathen.
“Noooooo,” Youngjo whines, words slurring with exhaustion. “Come back, don’t leave me.” He makes grabby hands at Dongju, or in his general vicinity at least, because he can’t summon the energy to open his eyes again.
Dongju hushes him like the brat he is. At least he seems to be in good spirits again. “You’ll be fine, hyung. I’m going to go help Seoho and Keonhee with breakfast, okay?”
“Don’t lie to me,” Youngjo says accusingly. “You’re not going to help at all; you’re going to sit on Keonhee and make out while poor Seoho does all the work.” Youngjo peeks one eye open to see a furious blush start to color Dongju’s cheeks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dongju sniffs, turning his nose up.
Youngjo snorts at him. “Yeah, whatever. At least make sure Seoho doesn’t try to poison us, okay?”
Dongju gives him a half-assed salute as he walks out the door.
Youngjo burrows back into his covers, but the bed just seems too cold without another body with him. He’s about to give up and go claim the shower when he hears footsteps thud down the hall and into his room. Knowing that half of the group is currently in the kitchen and that one of the remaining two members is much too small to be making that much noise, Youngjo assumes it must be Geonhak coming in for a morning cuddle which Youngjo is more than happy to provide. And yet, something is placed on the bed before him, and a small, Hwanwoong shaped body worms its way under the covers and into Youngjo’s arms. Then, Geonhak is climbing onto the bed as well, slotting himself between Youngjo and the wall, a thick, muscled arm wrapping around his waist.
Two warm bodies are even better than one, so he settles in to go back to sleep. Hwanwoong weasels his way even closer, tangling his legs with Youngjo’s, and Youngjo hisses slightly as Hwanwoong’s thigh brushes against his half-hard cock. It must have gotten interested again through the night without him noticing.
“Ooooh,” Hwanwoong coos, a teasing lilt in his voice that Youngjo is already dreading. “What’s this? The maknae didn’t wear you out last night?”
Youngjo slits his eyes open to see Hwanwoong leering at him. Youngjo grunts and tries to push the younger away, but he’s sleep weak and doesn’t mean it, anyway.
“I didn’t fuck him,” Youngjo says bluntly, tipping his head back onto Geonhak’s shoulder to try and get away from Hwanwoong’s teasing. Geonhak hums happily, nuzzling his face against Youngjo’s. At least someone is being sweet this morning.
“No?” Hwanwoong asks. “What’d’ya do to him then? We heard him whining all the way down the hall. You did something.”
Youngjo huffs, long-suffering. “I took care of him,” and, knowing Hwanwoong won’t be satisfied with just that, he follows with. “I fingered him until he cried.”
There’s a pause, silence hovering over them, until Geonhak mutters, “Jesus,” in that deep voice of his, pitched even lower with sleep.
“I bet that made a pretty picture,” Hwanwoong purrs, his thigh rubbing insistently against Youngjo’s persistent erection. Youngjo swallows hard because, god, Dongju did make such a pretty picture. “Want any help with this, hyung?”
Youngjo sighs. He’s so tired, but turning away help from Hwanwoong has the same logical thinking as shooting oneself in the foot. “Do what you want, baby.” He says. “But don’t get mad at me if I fall asleep on you.”
Hwanwoong chuckles, breath fanning over Youngjo’s neck as the younger begins to crawl under the covers. “Guess I’ll have to keep things interesting, hm?”
Needless to say, pinned between Geonhak’s solid warmth and sinful voice and Hwanwoong’s talented mouth and wandering fingers, Youngjo doesn’t actually end up getting much more sleep.