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The thing is, Sungchan is not selfish by nature, he never was. He’s not the type of guy who holds on to things too tightly, he’s always known when enough was enough, when to let go, when to let it rest; good common sense has always triumphed over anything else. There’s always the big picture, the long game, the future stretching out ahead like the sea.
But then there’s this.
Maybe it's a kind of cabin fever that's lasted for years, or a special kind of trauma bonding that only artists under SM get to endure. Maybe it's just that first day in some anonymous practice room high up on the n-th floor which was sunbright and suddenly populated by one other person. Sungchan remembers the amount of light most of all, Seoul spread out in greys and blues, and Shotaro looking so nervous and so determined to get this right, tripping through a greeting. The hint of a scent, clean and uncomplicated, slightly sweet.
Sungchan remembers thinking oh and not getting much further than that.
He's not a selfish guy, but that doesn't mean he isn't capable of selfishness. No one is ever just one thing. Onions, layers, all that.
It’s an ugly thought, an ugly feeling – I had him first. He was mine first – but it's there and it's real.
It's stupid too, but no one's ever accused him of being clever about stuff like this. The advice is always to feel everything completely, to its fullest extent, but look where that leads you. I had him first. He was mine first. At the end of schedule, end of a long, long day, the dorm is empty except for them – Seunghan's gone back to Ilsan for the week, leaving them in the eerie hush of a snow-filled evening.
Shotaro, who had fallen asleep during the van ride home and was only reluctantly roused, is now leaning on Sungchan in the elevator, all trust, all dead weight, eyes firmly closed. He's been tired, exhausted actually, more so than usual even after the days they've had and it had only taken one look and an unnecessarily loud sniff from Sohee to confirm: pre-heat.
It's simply the way of things, every couple of months biology will announce itself and throw their schedule for a loop.
Sungchan can't help but glance down at him every couple of seconds. From this angle, he's mostly fluffy hat, dusted in rapidly melting snowflakes, and affection swells in Sungchan's chest like a balloon. In the enclosed space his scent emerges more strongly under a day's worth of perfume, hairspray and fabric freshener. Sweet, but fresh, like something Sungchan could sink his teeth into.
"So cute," Wonbin whispers, ducking to peer under the brim of Shotaro's hat.
Sungchan hums in agreement, tightening his hold on his arm as the elevator races up towards their floor.
A light ping. The elevator comes to a halt and Sungchan shakes him gently. "Hyung," he murmurs. "C'mon, this is us."
Shotaro makes some sort of noise, which Sungchan takes as permission to guide him out into the hall. He says goodbye to the others, Anton and Sohee wave, but Wonbin winks, a big obnoxious grin splitting his face, and Eunseok starts to say something indecent but then the doors slide shut, saving Sungchan the trouble of having to tell him to fuck off.
They're left in an odd blue light that's speckled by the snowflakes drifting past the window at the far end of the hall. Shotaro slumps against him, what little energy he had left draining out of him in an instant. Sungchan lets out a little oof at the sudden impact but manages to catch him well enough, snaking his arms around his waist and pulling him in, his motivations not entirely unselfish. It's nice to have him like this, so close that the line of separation starts to blur. Shotaro noses into the folds of his coat with a sleepy sort of determination which is so completely and utterly endearing that it makes Sungchan want to sink his teeth—
He would swallow him whole if he could. It's that sort of feeling.
He looks away, up at the ceiling, then at the floor, trying to regain some form of composure. He's exhausted too, the last couple of weeks – the past couple of months really – finally catching up with him. It's done a number on his restraint. Subtlety has become a chore.
"Hyung, do you want me to carry you?" He asks, swaying a little on the spot, a miniature slow dance.
"No," is the muffled, slightly petulant reply. Sungchan grins up at the ceiling.
"No?" He asks. "Are you sure?" And when there's no response, he adds, "I could, you know. I've been working out."
This manages to rouse Shotaro enough to make him look up, but Sungchan can't see much of his face except for an indignant scowl, so he carefully pushes his hat back a little to see him better. Shotaro's eyes are dark, heavy-lidded with fatigue and something else. He looks pale and tired, blue and beautiful in this weird light. The urge to bite, to consume, to completely envelop, overcomes him all over again and Sungchan bends down to press a little kiss to Shotaro's cheek to satisfy the urge.
"Let's just—" Shotaro starts to say, trying to wriggle out of his arms but Sungchan won't let him. "Let's just go."
With Sungchan's refusal to let go and Shotaro's inability to do much about it, they end up doing an awkward little four-legged waddle over to their front door, which is what finally breaks Shotaro out of his pout. He's laughing – a little loopy from lack of sleep – by the time Sungchan manages to key in the code and the door unlocks with a quiet chime.
They untangle, somewhat reluctantly, to take off their shoes and Sungchan follows Shotaro into the apartment, turning on lights as he goes.
There's a note from Seunghan on the fridge about leftovers and cold medicine, but Sungchan checks his room anyway to make sure that he actually went home and isn't just sitting in the dark. They'd warned him about Shotaro's impending heat and he'd taken the excuse to pay a long overdue visit to his parents. Sungchan had sent him a sufficiently grovely little thank you text which he regretted instantly when the only reply he got was a link to a news article about South Korea's falling birth rate with a wink emoji.
After he's confirmed that Seunghan has in fact gone home, he wanders off to find Shotaro in the bathroom trying to take his jacket, scarf and hat off all at the same time. Sungchan watches him struggle for a second before intervening, wrestling the scarf away from where it's gotten tangled around Shotaro's head.
"Don't you want to go to bed, hyung?" He asks, brushing some hair out of Shotaro's eyes.
Shotaro shakes his head, shaking his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. "No. I need a shower. I feel gross. So gross." The sentence stops being Korean somewhere in the middle, but Sungchan is proficient enough in Shotaro's brand of bilingualism that he barely notices.
"Okay," he says. He picks Shotaro's discarded jacket and hat off the floor and flourishes a stupid little bow as he backs out into the hall. Shotaro's helpless smile is the last thing he sees before he shuts the door.
He busies himself with chores while the boiler makes a racket, filling the odd muffled silence of a snowy night. He idly re-tidies the kitchen even though it looks like Seunghan already made an attempt, digs left-overs out of the freezer so they'll have something quick to eat in the morning even though they have a few days off courtesy of Shotaro and then spends a good five minutes stranded in the middle of his room with his coat still on, blankly scrolling on his phone.
"Aren't you going to bed?"
Sungchan jumps, almost drops his phone and has to fumble in the air to catch it before turning around to find Shotaro standing in the doorway, swaddled in three towels and dripping water all over the linoleum.
He blinks. "I am, yeah," he says, but his voice comes out thick and croaky and he clears his throat, embarrassed.
This is something only he gets to see – Shotaro, flushed pink and softened by hot water and unselfconscious even as Sungchan can't stop himself from being greedy, his gaze roving restlessly. His scent is stronger now, not muddled by perfume or the clinging traces of other people but clear, laced with something that makes his mouth water. It feels good to have this to himself even though it's objectively untrue; Seunghan's probably seen Shotaro like this almost as often as Sungchan has.
But it feels different. Not only because Shotaro's close to his heat and this is only the second time Sungchan's around to share it with him, to help him through it, but because this is not the usual early morning chaos, the haze of a 4 AM wake-up call or the blank fog of a 2 AM pre-recording. This is intentional, private, this is just the two of them in an apartment that is quiet and cold, this is Shotaro coming closer, smiling shyly, even though he rarely is – shy, that is – it's Sungchan touching his bare face, his wet hair, with a kind of reverence that he never wants to share with anyone outside of this moment, the kind that can't be replicated with anyone else.
He has so much affection to give – overflows with it regularly – but this is a well only one person can drink from.
Shotaro's obviously had heats before this, Sungchan's not stupid. He was on suppressants before he came to Korea, but SM has a policy about suppressant use and so Sungchan got first-row seats in the six months before their debut in NCT and every year that followed, to Shotaro going through metaphorical hell. Usually one of the NCT members jumped in to help – Taeyong usually if he had the time or Shotaro would be noble and lock himself away until the worst of it was over.
It took Sungchan approximately three years to pluck up the courage to offer to help and this was after they started dating.
And now it's like some kind of stupid fucking Alpha-hindbrain fire's been lit and there's nothing he can do to quench it.
It's not that he doesn't like sharing, but he's the youngest of a small family and maybe he's just not as used to it as he should be. There's a pettiness in him that's childish and wrong; which bares its sharp little teeth whenever Eunseok bestows his affections with disarming sincerity or when Wonbin gets a hold of Shotaro during practice and then refuses to let go.
The same thought, the same feeling: I had him first. He was mine first.
"Let me just finish up and then the bathroom is all yours," Shotaro says, breaking Sungchan out of reverie.
The domestic mundanity of it all makes him want to do something stupid like propose an elopement to the countryside. Let's forget this idol crap, hyung. Just you, me, and these five other guys and a house on the coast, for the rest of our lives. How about it?
Instead, he says, "Okay, sounds good."
He washes up after Shotaro exits the bathroom in a fresh cloud of steam.
Looking at his blurred reflection while he brushes his teeth, he makes an effort to think normal, sane thoughts. The apartment is cold, but is that good enough of an excuse for him to wrangle himself a spot in Shotaro's bed? He's not above begging. Not that he has to very often. Shotaro likes to give in, or at least he does so very easily with Sungchan, but with the others too, which needles him only a little bit. He's being greedy, but he's done a lot of sharing recently and not complained once and there are only so many ways a company exec can re-formulate the sentence: 'Can you please, for the love of God, be subtle?'
The question is answered almost immediately when his phone, which is balanced precariously on the edge of the washbasin, lights up. Sungchan squints at the notification.
could you get some water before you go to bed?
He grins and toothpaste suds drip onto the screen, somehow opening the camera app.
He speeds through the rest of the washing-up process, changing into comfortable clothes in record time, and then spills water all over the countertop before giving up and grabbing a fresh bottle out of the fridge.
"Hey, baby," he whispers obnoxiously when he slips into Shotaro's room.
Shotaro appears, tousle-haired and already half-asleep, from under a pile of blankets and Sungchan has to swallow a million feelings at once. It all ends up crystalising as an ache in his jaw, an involuntary twitch of his hands, as he comes over. The blinds let in a decent amount of light and snowflakes dance patterns onto the floor.
"Here you go," he says, walking over and pressing the cold bottle, pearling with condensation, against Shotaro's forehead. Shotaro makes a little noise of pleasure that takes root immediately. A million things – the ache in his jaw, his fingers twitching with the urge to—
He puts the bottle down on the bedside table and turns to leave, not wanting to be presumptuous, but a warm hand shoots out from under the mass of blankets and grabs him by the wrist.
"Stay," Shotaro mumbles, voice soft with sleep.
It's a double bed, but they're both fully grown adults, so it's a matter of negotiation. Shotaro hogs most of the duvet and the good pillow and Sungchan, who's just happy to be here, lets him. He gets an arm around Shotaro's waist, brazenly slips his hand under the rucked-up hem of his hoodie and T-shirt and lays his palm flat against the expanse of his stomach, basking in the warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing. There's no resistance, only a big comfortable yawn from Shotaro that makes Sungchan yawn in sympathy. There's only the snow still falling, the warm sugary scent and Shotaro's soft, unstyled hair tickling his chin.
He wakes up slowly; like emerging from a deep-sea dive, it takes a while.
It's warm under the covers, almost too warm, and Sungchan blinks blearily into the gloom. Shotaro is a warm weight against him, radiating heat, slumped comfortably against his chest and completely dead to the world. Cute is the first coherent thought that surfaces in Sungchan's sleepsoggy brain and he grins, amazed at his own predictability.
He's thirsty and the arm pinned under his pillow has gone numb. A yawn cracks his jaw and he freezes guiltily, watching for any signs of disturbance, but there are none. Shotaro's breathing is steady and deep.
He can't have been asleep for very long, because it's still dark and snow is still falling, now building up a few centimetres thick on the window ledge. The hypnotizing effect of their swirling patterns on the walls and floor is almost enough to lull him back to sleep, but there's a persistent dryness nestling in the back of his throat that feels like a warning that shouldn't be ignored.
Carefully, so as not to disturb Shotaro, he untangles himself and sits up, shivering a little as the cold air crawls in.
He's equally as careful as he gets up on his knees to lean over him to reach for the bottle of water. It's adopted the temperature of the room but his teeth still ache from the cold as he takes the first couple of gulps. He sits back on his heels as he drinks and thinks of the cold medicine Seunghan left on the kitchen table – a preventative measure maybe – but it's absolutely freezing in the apartment and the idea of trekking barefoot across the cold lino just to get it inspires very little enthusiasm. Especially when the bed is still warm and Shotaro is there, curled up on his side, fast asleep and lovely.
Sungchan looks his fill – the fluttering movement under his eyelids, the soft shadow of a smile still clinging to the corners of his mouth even in sleep. That feeling again, intense but softened at the edges by the late hour: mine.
It's not that he's jealous, it's just that Shotaro does have about half a billion friends, including the other members and it's just—
It's nice to have him to himself now and again, that's all.
Sungchan settles back down again, hitching the duvet up as far as it'll go before wrapping himself around Shotaro again.
The second time he wakes up the room is coloured in washed-out greys and blues; dawn less of a dream now and more of an eventuality. It's still cold and Sungchan shivers as he stretches and yawns. Something in his neck cracks, deafening in the muffled silence, and he glances at Shotaro, who has rolled halfway onto his back in his sleep, one arm curled loosely over his head. His lips are slightly parted, wet-pink, and a vague sort of heat coils low in Sungchan's stomach. Predictable, really.
His scent is stronger now, kind of sugary and a little cloying in a way that it wasn't before. Sungchan inhales deeply, burrowing into the crook of Shotaro's neck where the scent is at its most potent.
After about a minute or two slides by – time like liquid in this weird light – he sits up. There's a little furrow on Shotaro's brow, a pout budding on his lips – sleep slowly ebbing away – and Sungchan acts on impulse, bracing a hand by his head and leaning over him, caging him in to watch intently as he gradually starts to wake up.
Slow-blinking, comprehension dawning. Sungchan can't stop himself from grinning. That low-ebb of heat is still there.
A few seconds pass where Shotaro just stares up at him, blinking drowsily. He looks sweet, a little pink under a fading tan, sugar-spun. He's not in heat, Sungchan can tell, but it's almost there. There's a haziness to his gaze that has nothing to do with sleep.
"What—are you doing?" His voice is a little rough, hesitant. If Sungchan could swallow him whole he would. If he could keep him just for himself, he would, without a doubt. In this bed, in this moment, forever, warm, safe – mine. The feeling is immense. It fills him up completely. He leans a little closer and with his free hand brushes his knuckles over the curve of Shotaro's cheek.
"Nothing," he replies innocently.
"Mm." Shotaro reaches up to clumsily pat him on the cheek. Then he stretches, luxuriating in it like a cat. "Creepy."
Sungchan laughs, unembarrassed. "Maybe a little."
Shotaro flings an arm over his mouth and yawns, eyes scrunching, and a tear slips down his temple and into his hair. Then he blinks up at Sungchan who's still kneeling over him, looming close. They contemplate each other for a moment and maybe then, there's a shift, as subtle as a change in atmospheric pressure. Shotaro opens his mouth to speak but it takes him a minute to find the right words – not that there's any rush, Sungchan is a bottomless well of patience and it's their day off. His mouth is pink, lips a little chapped, Sungchan can see the wet glint of his teeth.
It's not heat exactly, because the room is freezing, but like the charge of an incoming lightning storm. The tips of his fingers tingle.
"Have you been watching me all this time?"
"No," Sungchan says, drawing the word out which makes it sound like a lie. Shotaro, even half-asleep, manages to look sceptical but Sungchan forges ahead anyway, fixated now, arousal buzzing under his skin. "Did you know you smile in your sleep?" He asks.
Shotaro just stares at him, not clueless but slower on the uptake. "No, I don't," he says, blankly.
Sungchan shakes his head, insistent. "No, you do. It's cute. So cute." He traces the arch of Shotaro's eyebrow with his forefinger, then presses his thumb to his bottom lip. Shotaro squirms, an almost imperceptible movement, but Sungchan's paying attention. He's kneeling on top of him, a knee between his thighs and it's difficult not to think about all the places where they're touching. The solid heat between them even as the chill of the room creeps in. "You're cute, hyung, did you know that?" He says. "Even when you're asleep."
Sometimes, Sungchan can be selfish.
He gently applies some pressure, urging Shotaro's mouth open, slipping his thumb over the sharp edges of his bottom teeth and rubbing over the flat of his tongue. He traces over his molars, the slick inside of his cheek, completely self-indulgent in his exploration. Shotaro lets him, lying there, eyes round, his gaze still a little sleep-blurred but fixed firmly on Sungchan's face. He looks like he's been hypnotised.
His tongue flexes under the intrusion of Sungchan's thumb as he leans up a bit, his lips parting instinctively, asking for a kiss. A grin splits Sungchan's face and Shotaro's eyes widen incrementally, a flush creeping up his neck. Caught out, embarrassed.
"Cute," Sungchan murmurs indulgently, pulling his thumb out of Shotaro's mouth and grabbing his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks a little because he just can't help himself. Shotaro wrinkles his nose at the tacky slide of his own saliva on his face and Sungchan thinks cutecutecutecute—
"Gross," Shotaro mumbles but leans up all the same when Sungchan ducks in to kiss him.
Sungchan licks into his mouth without a preamble and Shotaro opens up under him with an eager noise.
He's sweet like this, happy to let Sungchan do whatever he wants, his arms coming up to wrap around his neck so Sungchan has to settle more securely on top of him. He's half-hard already, has been since he woke up and he grinds leisurely against Shotaro's thigh, making him feel it and groaning into the kiss when he feels Shotaro squirm against him in response, the muscles in his thighs twitching as his hips kick up, thighs squeezing around Sungchan's in search of friction.
The duvet's threatening to slide off the bed but Sungchan could honestly not give less of a fuck at that very moment. He sucks on Shotaro's tongue, teasing a muffled, "Mnh—" out of him before directing his attention to his throat or what little of it he can reach. He nibbles and bites, worrying at the skin until Shotaro is twisting and twitching under him, bearing his neck and pushing his face into his pillow. His chest is heaving, sweat already beading on his temples and throat.
Sungchan, as diligent as ever, finds a spot just under his ear and:
"Ah—" The sound bursts out of Shotaro involuntarily and he sounds wrecked already, voice breaking on one syllable.
Sungchan groans in response, his cock twitching as he ruts against Shotaro's thigh. He presses a grin and then a soothing kiss on Shotaro's skin, scraping his teeth against the bruise now blooming there. Shotaro hits him on the shoulder, his hand flailing out loosely, oversensitive.
"Sorry, sorry," Sungchan mumbles, anything but and sucks a mark onto Shotaro's frantically fluttering pulse.
Shotaro runs hot on most days, but this close to his heat and wearing sweatpants, a tee and a hoodie in bed means that his skin is salty with sweat and Sungchan has to physically stop himself from fully chewing his neck like some kind of insane, sex-crazed vampire. He restrains himself to licking a stripe up his throat and then kissing him again, fierce and desperate.
It's not pretty and it's not gentle, saliva smears across his chin and Shotaro's nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him in until it gets to a point where neither of them can breathe and Sungchan pulls away, panting.
He stares down at Shotaro, awed, and Shotaro blinks back at him, his gaze unfocused, pupils dilated, his mouth slick and kiss-bruised. He's still moving incrementally, unconsciously, his hips twitching, getting himself off on the hard line of Sungchan's thigh. It might honestly be one of the hottest things Sungchan's ever seen.
Unable to resist, he bends down again, slotting his mouth over Shotaro's who sighs, welcoming him with a trembling hand on the back of his neck, holding him close. They could just stay like this for all Sungchan cares. He could just let Shotaro get off on his thigh – make him work for it, all on his own – and then drag him into the shower and eat him out for his trouble, but he's had a much better idea.
"Wanna," he starts to say, mumbling it into Shotaro's panting mouth, then rephrases: "Lemme fuck you into your heat."
Shotaro whimpers, honest to God, and Sungchan rocks against him – feeling just a little insane at this point – slotting their hips together so that Shotaro can feel him, how much he wants this. Shotaro's not in heat yet so it would be presumptuous to assume he's wet enough that Sungchan could feel it through two layers of material, but he can feel the heat radiating off him centred between his legs where his cunt is waiting and where cock fits ever so nicely.
"Let me," he repeats, pressing a kiss to Shotaro's overheated cheek, and then another and another. "Wanna make you feel good."
Shotaro makes a stunned noise, still grinding mindlessly against the bulge of Sungchan's cock.
"I'll make it so good," Sungchan promises. "So good, I swear. I just wanna—please. Please." He slides a hand between them, feeling between Shotaro's legs, cupping his cunt over his sweatpants and pressing his middle finger right where he can feel just the slightest hint of slick.
"Oh my God—" Shotaro chokes, his back arching to grind against the heel of Sungchan's hand.
Sungchan drops his head and burrows into the crook of Shotaro's neck. "I'll take care of you," he mumbles, overwhelmed, against his sweat-slick skin. He's not sure when it all escalated like this but right now it feels like he'll die if he doesn't get inside of Shotaro. He's so hard he actually feels dizzy. "I'll—I'll fuck you so good, hyung, please, I promise. I—please. I'll make it so good, I'll—"
"Yeah—okay, okay—please, I—" Shotaro interrupts, breathless and desperate, getting a hand in Sungchan's hair and tugging him up so he can slot their mouths together.
Sungchan moans into the kiss, sanity hanging on by a thread, and Shotaro makes a muffled mmph sound as they rut against each other.
The kiss doesn't last very long, now armed with permission some of Sungchan's hard-earned patience splinters. He pulls away, a string of spit breaking, and Shotaro whines, chasing the kiss. He looks wrecked – lips glossy and red, his gaze glassy and a little faraway. Sungchan fumbles blindly between them for the hem of Shotaro's hoodie and ends up having to sit up, straddling him and pinning him to the bed.
"This," he mutters distractedly, "get this fucking thing off—why are you even wearing this, hyung?"
Shotaro tries to help, but he's clumsy, his hands trembling almost uncontrollably and in the end, Sungchan has to force his arms up over his head to be able to drag the hoodie off and over his head. He emerges rumpled, flushed and beautiful. Sungchan leans down bites his bottom lip and licks into his mouth just because he can, just because of the noises Shotaro makes, muffled mewls as Sungchan tries to get as deep as he can.
"I—I don't know," Shotaro replies breathlessly, trying to push Sungchan's face away with an uncoordinated hand. Sungchan licks the palm of his hand and Shotaro shudders, eyelashes fluttering. "I was cold." Sungchan can see his nipples pebbling under his shirt
"Gonna warm you up," Sungchan says stupidly, scrabbling at the hem of Shotaro's T-shirt.
Shotaro manages a shaky laugh. "With your cock?" He asks, lifting his arms obediently so Sungchan can peel the sweat-soaked shirt off him and toss it into the same dark corner the hoodie has probably ended up in.
"With my cock," Sungchan confirms, his brain melting a little at the sight of Shotaro's bare chest. He's pale from a long winter but flushed pink all the way down to his sternum and breathing heavily. With wandering focus, Sungchan runs a hand from his throat down to the slight swell of his pecs. He's been working and he can tell. "Gonna take care of you," he murmurs.
"I—ah!—I'm s-sure," Shotaro manages, tripping over his words, eyes rolling into the back of his head when Sungchan pinches one of his nipples, digging the blunt edges of nails into the sensitive skin.
"Yeah," Sungchan says brainlessly, still rolling his thumb and forefinger over Shotaro's nipple until Shotaro starts squirming in earnest, trying to shy away from the sensation. "Yeah, I'm gonna."
"Yeah? S-should I call you hyung?"
He says it as a joke, but Sungchan makes a noise as if he'd been shot. He collapses forward, burying his face in Shotaro's neck, hips stuttering against the swell of his cunt as he tries to regain some form of composure. "Fuck," he whines. It's insane. He could come from this, which is insane. "Fuck you. Not fair."
Shotaro makes a noise somewhere between a moan and watery laugh and manages a breathy, "Sorry, hyung." Fucker. If Sungchan were a worse person and also less horny he'd get up and leave right now.
He stays where he is, breathing in Shotaro's scent and trying to calm himself down. Once he's regained a modicum of sanity he bites a mean kiss under Shotaro's jaw where the skin is soft and thin, and worries at it until Shotaro tries to push him away, hands bracing uselessly against his chest, whatever cockiness he had replaced with an almost soundless kind of pleading whine:
"S-stop—stop, too much—"
"Be good for hyung," Sungchan rasps, pressing a quick kiss to Shotaro's cheek who just blinks dazedly.
He kisses his way down to Shotaro's chest and scrapes his teeth over Shotaro's other nipple, relishing in it when he feels Shotaro's breath hitch. "Pretty," he says, pressing the words into his skin. "So pretty for me." He bites down lightly and sucks, the noise obscene, and Shotaro squeaks, arching off the bed, his hands scrabbling uselessly over Sungchan's back.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—" he chants, arching and twisting as if he isn't sure if he wants more or to get away from the sensation, as Sungchan continues to bite and tease at his nipples, switching regularly until they're both rosy red and shiny with spit.
"Pretty, so pretty. So pretty for your hyung," he breathes against his skin and Shotaro twists his face into his pillow, breathing harshly.
He shuffles lower, pressing and sucking marks and kisses over the twitching muscles of Shotaro's stomach and abdomen. He's shaking for real by now, sweet breathless noises tumbling out of him, hands moving restlessly over the covers as Sungchan pulls at the waistband of his sweatpants to get at the sharp protrusions of his hip bones. He's not usually this sensitive, but pre-heat is well underway by now.
"Up," he says, tapping Shotaro's thigh and Shotaro lifts his hips so Sungchan can slide his pants off, manoeuvring his legs and ankles to get them off completely. They land somewhere on the floor along with everything else.
Quickly, Sungchan strips off his shirt as well and settles between Shotaro's legs, rubbing at his calves and thighs, trying to soothe him as Shotaro's breath hitches out of him in quiet bursts. He sort of looks like he's about to cry, gaze glassy, flushed all over, his hair matted against his forehead with sweat, his throat, chest and stomach covered in the evidence of Sungchan's undivided attention.
He's never looked more beautiful. If Sungchan could swallow him whole he would. It'd be so good, so easy. He'd savour every bite, he'd be so good, he'd make it so good, make him come and cry, over and over and over—
Carefully, reverently, Sungchan slides both hands up the inside of Shotaro's thighs, forcing his legs apart.
He settles more comfortably between them, idly grinding his cock against the mattress to take the edge off, making room for himself, while Shotaro's hands flutter restlessly over his stomach and chest before finally coming to rest on the pillows by his head, a white-knuckle grip on the covers. He's craning his neck a little – trying to watch – his chest is rising and falling rapidly, mouth hanging open. Sungchan glances up at him, watching intently as he lets his thumb glide over the soaked-through cotton of his panties before pressing down on his clit.
Shotaro lets his head loll with a choked-off noise, his feet slipping and sliding on the bed as he tries to get some purchase to fuck himself up against Sungchan's hand. He's making small, heady, whining noises, grinding his clit against Sungchan's gently circling thumb.
"Look at you," Sungchan murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of Shotaro's thigh, completely transfixed. "Good?"
"I—I wa-ah—nngh—want more," Shotaro gasps. He's leaking through the fabric, smearing slick all over his thighs and Sungchan's knuckles. "More, fuck—more, please, please—"
Sungchan hums thoughtfully, presenting a level of patience that isn't entirely accurate. His cock feels like it's about to explode if he doesn't get it inside Shotaro's pussy right this fucking second. But it's more fun when Shotaro doesn't know that.
He shifts a little up onto his knees so there's less temptation to rut against the mattress and slides his fingers up and down between Shotaro's clothed folds, pressing a little harsher every time he passes over the swollen hood of his clit.
Shotaro thrashes. "Ah—fuck, fuck—please—" His feet slide helplessly and Sungchan pins him down with his free hand on his thigh.
"Do you want hyung to take care of you?" He asks, trying not to sound too affected and failing. His voice is thick with arousal, rasping out of his throat. "Hm? Baby? It'll be good, I promise."
"F-fuck you," Shotaro gasps, looking up just enough to level him with an ineffective glare.
Sungchan grins like a maniac. Without much preamble, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of Shotaro's panties and pulls them down and off in one smooth motion. Shotaro chokes out a shocked little noise, his legs kicking out uselessly and Sungchan grabs him under his knees and forces his legs up against his chest, practically folding him in half.
His cunt is cute. He's so cute. Sungchan can feel his sanity leaking out of his ears as he settles between Shotaro's legs, keeping them spread with a firm grip on both his thighs. It's pink, glistening obscenely with slick.
"So cute, so pretty—fuck, look at you." He nudges against Shotaro's clit with his nose and Shotaro whimpers. "So wet for me, hm?"
He glances up to see Shotaro covering his face with his hands, twisting his head to the side, his chest heaving.
With a grin, Sungchan leans in and licks one long strip up the expanse of Shotaro's pussy and Shotaro moans, whiny and shocked, his whole body convulsing. He does it again and Shotaro's hips move to meet him, grinding up and against his tongue. It's so unbelievably hot that Sungchan blindly shoves a hand down his boxers to briefly squeeze the base of his cock.
He licks messily, gathering up slick leaking from Shotaro's hole, nipping at his folds and then seals his lips over his clit, sucking and licking noisily until Shotaro's sobbing, his voice scraped raw and muffled by his hands still clamped over his face. He's moving as much as he's able with Sungchan pinning his legs apart, his thighs trembling and clenching as he rocks against Sungchan's probing tongue.
"So good," Sungchan slurs into Shotaro's cunt, sucking messily as more slick leaks out of his hole. "You're so good, baby."
Shotaro whines, writhing in Sungchan's grip. "Pleasepleaseplease—"
"Yeah," Sungchan mumbles vaguely, releasing one of Shotaro's thighs to rub his fingers alongside his tongue. "Yeah, I got you."
There's slick everywhere – on his chin, nose, cheeks, smearing on Shotaro's thighs – but he wants more. His fingers slip and slide over Shotaro's pussy, but he finally manages to press his middle finger inside him. It slides in without resistance and Shotaro mewls, his whole body twitching helplessly. Sungchan can feel his walls clenching, pulling him in.
"H-hyung—" Shotaro hiccups, grinding down, more slick gushing out of him as Sungchan crooks his finger while kissing over his clit.
Sungchan moans, raw and wanting, against his cunt and Shotaro whimpers, his thighs clenching around Sungchan's head. He can feel his heels digging into his back, urging him closer as he licks and sucks his clit and pumps his finger inside, punching breathy little uh uh uh uh's out of Shotaro with every thrust.
"Nngh—" Shotaro writhes as Sungchan fits a second finger inside him.
Sungchan separates himself from Shotaro's pussy to look at him, too greedy not to. Clear webs of slick cling on, then break and he licks his lips. He finds Shotaro twisting with pleasure, mewling and keening mindlessly like it's being wrung out of him, fucking himself back on Sungchan's fingers and speeding up even as Sungchan tries to keep the pace steady. His hands are roving restlessly, trembling as he tries to muffle the noises getting fucked out of him.
Sungchan could live in this moment forever.
He redoubles his efforts, completely transfixed, crooking his fingers and massaging his thumb over Shotaro's swollen clit.
"Good?" He asks unnecessarily, nipping at the sensitive skin of Shotaro's thighs.
Shotaro whines. "I—nngh, I—mm, ah, I don't—"
Sungchan nods distractedly. "Yeah, okay. Yeah. Fuck—I got you. I got you."
He speeds up and finds that spongey spot that he knows will do the trick. He leans back down again, seals his mouth over Shotaro's clit, and feels rather than hears as Shotaro comes. He cries out, his voice cracking open as he goes rigid, his whole body shaking and arching off the bed as his orgasm rocks through him. Slick gushes over Sungchan's hand and tongue and he groans, shutting his eyes and rutting into the sheets, unable to help himself. Above him, Shotaro keeps moving helplessly, thighs clenching and unclenching around Sungchan's head as he fucks him through it, his walls spasming around his fingers as he swirls his tongue over his clit and entrance.
"Ahh, ah—hyung. H-hyung, hyunghyung—stop, stopstop—please, I can't, I can't—" Shotaro's trembling hands are pawing uselessly at Sungchan's head, trying to push him away from his oversensitive cunt.
Carefully, Sungchan pulls his fingers out and Shotaro whimpers and sags onto the mattress, still shaking, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His gaze is far away, his lashes dark and wet. One of his legs slips off Sungchan's shoulder to dangle uselessly off the edge of the bed.
Wiping the excess slick on his thigh, Sungchan sits up and promptly crawls on top of him, hitching his leg back onto the bed.
He kisses along Shotaro's chest, hearing his heart thunder under his ribs, along his throat, over his frantic pulse, his slack, beautiful mouth, his overheated cheek, damp with sweat and tears. The smell of salt and Shotaro's slick mixes with the heady weight of his scent, sweet enough now that it makes Sungchan feel like he's breathing through cotton candy.
"I don't have to fuck you," he murmurs against Shotaro's skin and presses another idle kiss on his forehead. "You were so good."
"No, no," Shotaro mumbles, pulling Sungchan against him. He slots their mouths together, pliant and eager, and slurs into the kiss, "No, I—I want you to. Want you to. Hyung."
Sungchan's cock throbs and he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck."
Shotaro fumbles between them, palming clumsily over his cock and Sungchan's hip stutter forward. He could get off like this easily, this would be enough at this point, but Shotaro has other ideas. He gets his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and despite the awkward angle manages to push them down far enough that Sungchan's cock springs out. He hisses, humping the air, bumping against Shotaro's palm.
"Please," Shotaro whispers. His hand is trembling and uncoordinated but he manages a few loose strokes that have Sungchan seeing stars. "Please, hyung. I need it. Need your cock."
"Fuck," Sungchan groans, mouthing uselessly at Shotaro's throat. "You're so good. So wonderful for me—fuck. Lemme just—hold on."
He sits up to shuck his boxers the rest of the way off, flinging them carelessly over his shoulder, which makes Shotaro choke on a small laugh. He looks so pretty, still flushed and sweaty, eyes crinkled up into a smile that's somewhere between fond and shy.
Sungchan crawls back immediately, pushing Shotaro's thighs apart to stare greedily at his cunt where he's still pink, slick and open, ready for him. He slips two fingers through Shotaro's folds, gathering slick and spreading it lazily, pinching and rolling his swollen clit between his fingers until Shotaro is moaning and squirming, arching off the bed, his hands scrabbling at Sungchan's wrist, trying to get him to stop.
Slick gushes out of him and Shotaro whimpers at the feeling, flinging an arm over his face, embarrassed.
Sungchan coos, shuffling closer until he can rub the head of his cock between his folds, nudging against his clit.
"Ah—nngh—oh my God, oh my God—" Shotaro twists away, mouth open, panting into the pillow, eyes squeezed firmly shut.
Mesmerised, Sungchan keeps grinding against his clit, smearing pre-come through the mess his slick has made. Shotaro twitches under him, whining softly. "Is hyung making you feel good?" He asks, rutting against his opening.
"Y-yeah," Shotaro hiccups, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. "So good, so—hhngh—good. Want it, want it—please."
Sungchan breathes in sharply, trying to collect himself. It would be insanely embarrassing if he came right now.
His cockhead catches on Shotaro's entrance again and he pushes forward.
Shotaro's breathing stops, eyes widening, tears still leaking, and Sungchan quickly rubs a soothing hand over his stomach even while fireworks explode in his brain. There's nothing he wants more than to rut forward, to bury himself completely in that tight heat and stay there preferably forever, but Shotaro's walls are clenching around him, spasming without rhythm as he sucks in quick, desperate breaths.
He stays as he is, his cock sheathed about halfway inside Shotaro's cunt, trying to control his heartbeat. After a while Shotaro's breathing starts to even out, that initial burst of panic ebbing away.
"You good?" Sungchan asks when Shotaro shifts his hips cautiously, wincing a little as Sungchan's cock sinks a little deeper.
Shotaro nods, biting his lip in concentration, his hips still moving incrementally as he slowly sinks further down on Sungchan's cock, eyelids fluttering. Sungchan can feel every inch, every spasm, every ounce of slick that gushes out to ease the way. It's taking everything he has not to just fuck the rest of the way inside, fold Shotaro in half and fuck him until he's full. It's making him light-headed.
"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," Shotaro says, flushing. Sungchan wants to eat him. "I just—I forget, every time."
Sungchan grins and rolls his hips a little, bracing himself on the pillows and Shotaro bites back a whimper, his head lolling to the side and his eyelids fluttering shut. He's so wet, it's kind of insane, slick smearing all over his thighs and Sungchan's abdomen. Sungchan slides his hand from his stomach down to his pussy again and pinches his clit.
Shotaro arches up with a hoarse shout and Sungchan doubles over with winded oof as his cunt clenches around him, milking him until he can't help but fuck forward. Shotaro sobs, chest heaving, thighs trembling and Sungchan takes advantage, licking into his open mouth as he drives his hips forward. Shotaro mmphs breathlessly, pawing uselessly at Sungchan's hand that's still rubbing over his clit, occasionally straying further down to feel where he's spread open around Sungchan's cock.
"Don't—" he gasps, his cunt convulsing and Sungchan grunts, sinking in all the way and picking up the pace. "T-too much, too much—"
"Y-you're tight," Sungchan grits out, "I can feel—fuck—"
The sounds are obscene, wet and sloppy and loud in the early morning silence. Sungchan hitches Shotaro's legs further up, changing the angle and Shotaro cries out, rocking back onto Sungchan's cock and covering his face with his hands, clenching down so hard Sungchan almost comes that very instant. He doesn't, but it's a close call.
"Could fuck you forever," he moans, brushing over Shotaro's clit again, making him hiccup through a sob, thighs twitching around the width of his waist. "Keep you like this. On my—ah—on my cock. Keep you full."
Underneath him, Shotaro nods mindlessly, his hand slipping off his mouth, blinking up at Sungchan with dazed, teary eyes.
Sungchan's not being that nice about it; the pace he sets is just on the edge of brutal now, his restraint splintering with every whiny, high-pitched moan he manages to force out of Shotaro's throat with every thrust. He's getting close. He can feel it building, robbing him of most sane thoughts, narrowing the world down to the desire to cram his cock as far into Shotaro's cunt as it'll go and keep it there.
"Fuck—" he grunts, speeding up, his thrusts losing their precision as he hurtles towards the edge. "God—'m gonna come—"
Shotaro whimpers, high and needy, reaches up, slightly uncoordinated, and wraps his arms around Sungchan's neck dragging him in until he's almost collapsed on top of him. It's good like this – this close and Sungchan buries his face in the crook of Shotaro's neck, panting, his hips working frantically until a hoarsely whispered h-hyung, please in his ear sends him careening off the edge.
He comes with a long groan, sinking deep into Shotaro's clutching cunt and thrusting minutely, riding it out. It's bliss, heaven, nirvana – whatever you want to call it. Shotaro shakes underneath him, moaning breathlessly, his nails digging red crescents into Sungchan's skin.
They stay like that for a while, neither of them willing to be the first to let go.
In the end, when Sungchan's arms threaten to give out, he's forced to sit up a little. Shotaro hisses, shoving a hand over his mouth, as Sungchan's slowly softening cock slips out of his pussy in a slow, agonising slide. Come spills out after it and Sungchan is quick to gather it up with two fingers and thrust it back inside which makes Shotaro squeak and squirm in surprise and oversensitivity.
"Sorry, sorry," Sungchan says unconvincingly and Shotaro aims a half-hearted kick at him, pushing him away with a foot on his chest.
He looks exhausted, but sated, a healthy flush on his cheeks. His scent is still as heady as it was when they started fucking and Sungchan crawls closer, sticking his face against Shotaro's wrist and then into the crook of his neck to confirm his suspicions.
"You're in heat," he says, mouthing a kiss against some of the marks he's left.
Shotaro yawns and stretches. "That was kind of the point of this, wasn't it?" He asks.
"Well, yeah," Sungchan replies, sliding down onto his side to settle more comfortably on the bed. The general chill of the apartment is making itself known again and he tugs Shotaro against him, hoping to leech off his warmth. "I'm just saying like, you know, yay me."
Shotaro snorts, turns to nuzzle against him, but then grimaces. He cranes his neck to look up at Sungchan, who tries to adopt an expression of baffled innocence. "You came in me," Shotaro says, jabbing a finger into his chest, "so you have to clean up. And run a bath. And turn the thermostat up," he adds. "And order breakfast."
Sungchan raises an eyebrow. "Anything else?"
Shotaro taps him on the nose, a smile dancing in his gaze. "Kiss," he says and Sungchan obliges easily.