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Taeyang shouldn’t be having this conversation with Intak while he’s drunk. The worst decisions happen when people are drunk.
Taeyang knows this, but in his defense, Intak had texted him to come to his room. The messages hadn’t given away much, but Taeyang’s observant. He can make some inferences of his own. And what he knows is this: Keeho and Jiung had invited the two of them out to some local, nighttime fair down the street from their hotel. Taeyang had declined the invitation, saying his feet hurt. Mostly, he just wanted to have the room to himself for a few hours to jerk off and maybe take a bath.
Intak also hung back. He said he wanted to call his girlfriend while it was still morning in Korea. Keeho had said, “Ewww,” all exaggeratedly, but didn’t argue about it. And then Jiung and Keeho left, and Taeyang was alone in the rare, welcome quiet of his hotel room.
Taeyang had made himself comfortable. He changed into his favorite pajamas, then curled up in his bed. He didn't even bother putting in his AirPods, just opened up the web browser on his phone to search for a video to watch. Keeho told Taeyang off once for searching up porn videos on the hotel Wi-fi, but it always amazes Taeyang how readily available the videos are when they’re on tour. He doesn't even need a VPN or anything.
So anyway, Taeyang was still scrolling videos when his phone buzzed. The Katalk message popped up at the top of his screen: Hyung will you come have a drink with me?
Taeyang swiped up on the message, then glanced back at the video playing out on his screen. A woman with large breasts had some guy’s dick all the way down her throat. It wasn't the best video Taeyang had ever seen, but it was good enough. He could feel how it made his cock begin to stir in his underwear.
Taeyang can have a drink with Intak any night, but it’s not often Taeyang has a room to himself for more than a few minutes at a time. He was fully prepared to ignore Intak, when Intak sent a second message. It was an image.
Rolling his eyes, Taeyang tapped on it to open the photo. It was dimly lit, but he realized the picture was of a bottle of soju, half-empty. It took Taeyang a moment to realize the picture was taken just then, in Intak’s hotel room.
Annoyed at Intak bothering him, Taeyang typed out a quick message. Onscreen, the woman moaned, and it made Taeyang’s dick twitch. He wished he was touching it, instead of texting Intak.
what happened to calling minseo
There was a pause, where Taeyang could see Intak typing. The typing bubble would disappear for a moment, and then start again, until finally Intak replied, Don’t really want to talk about it. Pleeeease hyung will you come have a drink with Takkie?
Taeyang almost wanted to scold Intak for interrupting his alone time, except he also had enough sense to recognize that clearly Intak needed company right about then. It had only been minutes since Keeho and Jiung left, so obviously something happened.
Taeyang started to feel a little bad. Maybe Intak and Minseo got into a fight. Hell, maybe they broke up. It would be awfully callous for Taeyang to turn Intak down, when he seemed to need some company.
Reluctantly, Taeyang closed out of the video, just as the guy was finally putting his dick in the girl’s pussy. Intak better appreciate that Taeyang was willing to give up this to have a drink with him.
ok be there soon
Thanks hyung! 👍😀
~~~
“I just feel like I’m missing out, hyung!”
By the time Taeyang had gotten out of bed and plodded over to Intak’s room, Intak had already finished his first bottle of soju and cracked open a can of beer. Personally, Taeyang doesn’t love beer—he always found the flavor too bitter—but he still accepted the one Intak shoved into his hand when he greeted Taeyang at the door, eyes swollen and red-rimmed.
Now, they’re both seated at the small table squeezed into the corner of Intak’s room. Taeyang sets down his still half-full beer onto the table, next to Intak’s empty, crushed-up can, as he listens to Intak recount his phone conversation with his girlfriend.
“I called her right after Keeho-hyung left. We planned to talk today and everything, hyung, but she said she forgot and had lunch plans with Wonseok!” Intak flails his arm dramatically as he talks, and somehow his open palm finds the table. He must hit it harder than he means to, because the whole table shakes, and he lurches backward, startled.
Taeyang grabs for his beer can, and manages to save it from toppling off the table. A generous amount still sloshes onto Taeyang’s hand and the speckled-gray carpet below.
“Yah!” Taeyang rubs his wet hand onto the checkered leg of his pajama pants. “Be careful!”
Intak sits back in his chair then, pouting. His chin is scrunched up, bottom lip sticking out, and his hands are folded over his chest. He looks exactly like he does when he doesn’t get to pick the restaurant for dinner, or when Keeho insists they shop at whatever store he wants to. Still, when Taeyang gets another glimpse of the tears swimming in Intak’s eyes, he softens.
Quieter, he asks, “Are you jealous of Minseo spending time with Wonseok?”
Intak takes a sip of his second beer—his third drink, Taeyang notes mentally. Taeyang hasn’t even finished his first. Intak swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing down his thick neck. A vein on the side bulges, protruding. The smallest hints of collarbones are visible where the neck of Intak’s loose t-shirt sags.
Intak seems to think for a moment before answering, “No, hmm—I don’t think that’s it. They’re old friends, from high school.”
Taeyang remembers how Intak was, back in high school, always rushing off after dance practices to meet with some girl, and always coming back to the dorms late, with unsightly purple bruises littering his neck. Somehow, Intak still managed to maintain top marks in dance, and in school, even though he slept probably half as much as Taeyang did.
“Didn’t you and Minseo also meet in high school?” Taeyang asks with a knowing smirk.
Intak frowns at that. “Y-yeah, but—’s different!” His voice is getting louder now, and slurred slightly at the edges, words just beginning to run together. It’s a telltale sign that the alcohol is starting to affect him.
Taeyang considers for a moment telling Intak to slow down; considers reminding him that they have a show tomorrow night, and rehearsals starting in the morning. But then Taeyang sees the downturned corners of Intak’s mouth, and the way his hand trembles, clenched around his beer, and it stops him.
Taeyang himself sets down his beer. It’s freezing in his hands, condensation covering the outside in a cold sheen. The taste is stale in his mouth, and unpleasant.
“So if Wonseok isn’t the problem, what is?”
Intak seems to ponder Taeyang’s question. Absently, Intak’s thumb traces the length of his beer can, drawing lines in the built-up condensation. Taeyang’s eyes follow Intak’s finger. He wonders if Intak is even bothered by the cold; wonders how freezing the tips of his fingers would be to touch.
Intak downs the last of his beer and sets it back onto the table. He gets up then, and Taeyang doesn’t miss how he steadies himself on the edge of the chair for a moment before grabbing another can from the mini fridge and returning to his seat. He cracks the tab with a fizzy pop and takes another sip.
Taeyang watches it all happen. He doesn’t stop Intak.
Finally, Intak speaks, voice still slurred and slow and loud, “I… hm. I just miss Minseo, I guess. It’s–it’s probably insane, but I just, I don’t know. I feel like she’s going to—like, forget about me, being away for so long.”
Taeyang stares across the table at Intak. He blinks slowly, at first just watching as Intak shifts in his chair, clearly uncomfortable, clearly upset. Intak takes another long swig of his beer, and it’s audible, the way his throat contracts as he swallows. Starting to get sloppy, a small trickle escapes Intak’s lips and dribbles down his chin, onto that wide neck of his, then collects on the collar of his white shirt, darkening it.
It’s fascinating, the slow way Intak is losing control. Something pulls at Taeyang’s heart—a bad feeling, a pitying feeling. He’s not sure he would be coping any better, if he was nineteen, and halfway across the world from his girlfriend. Maybe he’d be having the same reaction; equally as sad. Equally as pathetic.
Taeyang chooses his next words carefully: “What do you miss about Minseo?”
“Hyunggg.” Intak’s voice comes out as a whine.
Taeyang stares back at Intak’s drunken face, at his sagging eyes and his parted, reddened lips, damp with beer. He pushes, harder. “Do you miss fucking her?”
Intak gasps, a wet hiccup. “W–what?”
“I said, do you miss fucking her?”
Intak shakes his head. His movement comes off awkward and jerky, from the drink. “H-hyung,” he whimpers. It sparks something in Taeyang—a sadness, maybe. A cold sort of desperation. “It’s… d-don’t you think this is a little—um—too much?”
Taeyang sits back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, a mirror of Intak earlier. Torn between helping Intak and mocking him for getting so drunk, and for wallowing, he prods a little. “Do you miss her skin? Her breasts?” Intak groans, head thrown back, embarrassed probably, but Taeyang continues, “Or was it her pussy you miss?”
“Hyunnggg, p-please, please stop ta—.” Intak’s cheeks are red, burning hot. His expression looks strained, mortified.
But Taeyang is determined now. Focused, he studies Intak, fascinated by the way he’s trembling, one fist clasped around his beer can, the other digging holes into the meat of his thigh with his fingertips. Taeyang continues, “Do you miss how wet she would get on your tongue? Do you miss how she felt inside?”
Intak shakes his head furiously, like what Taeyang is saying to him is physically painful to hear. But then he hiccups, and groans, and finally meets Taeyang’s gaze. His eyes look glossed-over, unfocused.
And he relents.
“Y-yeah, fine—I miss that. All of it.”
Taeyang thinks of the warm bed back in his own hotel room. He thinks of the porn videos on his phone, and of the fact that they still have some time until Keeho and Jiung return.
A dark sort of thought begins to form in Taeyang’s mind. A way to help Intak, and himself.
“How badly do you miss her, exactly?”
~~~
Taeyang opens himself up, fingers sticky with lotion from the bottle Intak shoved haphazardly into his hand when he’d asked for lubricant. Laid out on his back like this, his hole is exposed, on full display. He feels Intak’s heavy gaze, intense, studying him.
Taeyang pushes in two practiced fingers and strokes at his insides, already picturing exactly how warm and tight and plush he’s going to feel around Intak. And Intak, he watches, quiet and wide-eyed, chewing a hole into the pink skin of his lower lip.
“You can touch me,” Taeyang mutters, more a command than a suggestion.
And Intak listens. He rubs a hand over Taeyang’s smooth, pale legs. They’re as hairless as Intak’s girlfriend’s, Taeyang is sure.
“Feels good?”
Intak nods, but doesn’t answer.
It doesn’t take long for Taeyang to finish working himself open—he knows they still have a little time before Keeho gets back, but not long enough to be as thorough as Taeyang might usually be. And then Taeyang spreads his legs and motions for Intak to come closer.
Intak doesn’t offer to put on a condom, and Taeyang doesn’t ask either. He just watches as Intak rubs lotion down his length, then feeds himself slowly into Taeyang’s hungry, stretched hole.
“Ohhh,” Taeyang gasps, softly, as Intak pushes into him, opening him wider than his fingers could. The stretch is impressive, Intak’s cock filling Taeyang up to his stomach, up to his chest, he’s certain. But Intak doesn't give Taeyang any chance to adjust. He just sheaths himself inside Taeyang’s warm hole and begins to thrust, slow and forceful, jostling Taeyang’s body on the bed.
Intak leans over Taeyang, his body heavy and plastered down Taeyang’s front, radiating heat. “Hyunggg,” he whines. His hips work erratically, likely from the alcohol. Still, Taeyang doesn’t mind too much. It feels nice to be filled, and to have a warm body on top of him. He feels like he’s being a good hyung, taking care of Intak.
It’s only minutes before Intak’s thrusting grows shallower and more frantic. His hands are fisted in the sheets on either side of Taeyang’s head. His face is buried in the side of Taeyang’s neck, breath hot and wet against Taeyang’s skin as slurred moans pour out his mouth.
“Hyung, hyung,” Intak chants, “can I—inside?”
And Taeyang, he tightens his hands where they’re gripping the broad expanse of Intak’s back. “Yeah, it’s ok, inside.”
Intak’s hips stutter, then Taeyang hears his low groan as he feels the sloppy-wetness of Intak filling him up. Taeyang’s own release is already spread across both their fronts, rubbed slick and messy with each forceful roll of Intak’s hips.
Intak doesn’t stay inside of Taeyang much longer than that. Fist around the base of his cock, he pulls out, but not before Taeyang catches him mumble under his breath, “Thank you, hyung, thank you.”
~~~
They’re in the middle of cleaning up the beer cans when Intak’s phone starts to ring. His expression is worried as he picks it up. “Um, give me a second, hyung.” Intak steps into the bathroom, and Taeyang hears the shower turn on. It’s a move that’s familiar from years of sharing a dorm with paper-thin walls, and Taeyang takes it as his cue not to listen in.
Still, it’s hard not to catch some words: simple, “Alrights,” and then a quieter, “I love you.”
The bathroom door swings open. Intak already looks more at-ease, brows unfurrowed and shoulders relaxed. He also seems steadier on his feet, like he’s sobered up quite a bit.
“So?” Taeyang asks. He’s not sure what kind of answer he’s hoping for.
“Minseo apologized for forgetting. She said she’ll call tomorrow.”
Taeyang nods. “Good, glad to hear it.” He steps toward the door. He’s a little sore between his legs, in that strange way that only getting fucked can make him feel. “You have a good night, Intak-ah.”
“You too, hyung.”