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Wooyoung sat at the small, round kitchen table, a steaming bowl of kimchi jjigae before him. The rich, spicy aroma of the stew wafted up from the bowl, making his mouth water. He scooped up a generous spoonful, blowing on it gently before taking a bite. He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the taste and the warmth spreading through his body.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting a golden glow across the kitchen. Wooyoung's phone lay next to his bowl, the screen lighting up every few minutes with notifications. He glanced at it between bites, his thumb swiping away messages and alerts. Some were from his members in their group chat, others from his manager about upcoming schedules.
He paused to snap a quick photo of his meal, the vibrant red of the kimchi jjigae starkly contrasted against the white bowl. He uploaded it to the group chat with a simple caption: "Home cooking 😋". Within seconds, the replies started flooding in. He could expect to see all the members come by tonight. He had to check if there was enough rice left.
Wooyoung smiled as he set his phone aside and refocused on his food. These little moments of normalcy were rare these days, with the group's popularity skyrocketing. He cherished the time he got to spend in his apartment, cooking for himself and the members. It was a small way he could take care of them amidst the chaos of their schedules.
He was just about to take another bite when a loud buzz from the intercom interrupted his thoughts. Wooyoung glanced up, eyebrows raised. That was odd. No one usually visited without first letting him know.
"Hello?"
"Good afternoon, sir! I have a package for you," a voice crackled through the speaker.
"Ah, I'll be right down!" Wooyoung replied. He quickly put on his shoes and ran down the stairs to the building's entrance.
The delivery man was waiting outside, a small parcel in his hands. "If you could just sign here, please."
Wooyoung smiled, taking the offered stylus and scribbling his signature on the screen. "Thank you so much," he said, accepting the parcel. "Have a great rest of your day!"
Wooyoung looked down at the package as he climbed the stairs back to his apartment. It was addressed to him, "Youggie". A grin spread across his face. Only one person called him that when they sent him parcels. Wooyoung felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest.
It was light, too light to guess. For a second, Wooyoung wondered if it was one of Hongjoong’s small care packages; the leader still sent him soothing creams whenever his hives acted up.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he set the package down on the kitchen table next to his forgotten bowl of kimchi jjigae. The stew had cooled slightly, but Wooyoung barely noticed. His attention was entirely on the mysterious gift.
He grabbed the box cutter from a kitchen drawer and ripped through the tape. What could Hongjoong have possibly sent him? And why? It wasn't his birthday, and no holidays were coming up that he could think of.
Wooyoung stared at the box's contents, his eyes widening in disbelief. Nestled inside, surrounded by protective packaging, was a box with an unmistakable picture on it, a sex toy. He blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the image remained unchanged.
Heat crept up Wooyoung’s neck and into his cheeks as he turned the box over in his hands. The design was understated: matte black, with AXIS-X Wireless Stimulator printed in clean silver letters. A small, stylised outline of the device curved along one side, suggestive enough that his stomach flipped. His gaze caught on it for a beat before he deliberately looked away.
He popped the lid open, fingers suddenly clumsy, and rummaged for paperwork. There had to be an invoice, something. When he finally smoothed out a folded sheet, Hongjoong’s name stared back at him from the shipping details.
Questions raced through his mind. Why would Hongjoong send him something like this? Was it a joke? A mistake? Or something else entirely? Wooyoung swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he considered the implications.
The sudden quiet of the apartment made the box feel too loud. He shut it, hid it without looking too closely at where, and sat down heavily on his bed. His heart hadn’t slowed at all.
He'd have to confront Hongjoong about this and ask him what it meant. But the thought of that conversation made his stomach flip with nerves. How did one even begin to broach a subject like this?
“Hey, Hongjoong, I got your… gift. Bold choice.”
No. Too normal.
“Captain, I think there’s been a mix-up, because this isn’t exactly tailored to my… preferences.”
Absolutely not. Too revealing.
“So about the package you sent me…”
Wooyoung groaned and covered his face. Even the neutral approach sounded ridiculous in his head. Nothing he rehearsed made this situation any less unhinged.
Wooyoung shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He couldn't dwell on it now. He couldn't dwell on the way he found himself craving Hongjoong's attention, his approval, his affection. The others would be home soon, and he had more rice to cook.
He started another batch of rice on autopilot, barely aware of what his hands were doing.
The only thing his mind could focus on was the box under his bed and what it implied.
Message? Misclick? Cosmic joke?
The rice cooker beeped. Wooyoung had no idea how long he’d been staring at it.
The door chimed, and Wooyoung flinched, spoon slipping in his grip. He pasted on what he hoped was a normal expression.
Yunho wandered into the kitchen a moment later, hair damp from practice, humming under his breath.
"Wooyoung-ah! That smells amazing!" Yunho exclaimed, peering over Wooyoung's shoulder at the bubbling stew. The warmth of Yunho’s body heat and the subtle scent of his cologne invaded Wooyoung's senses, making him feel slightly claustrophobic. Usually not one to shy away from physical interaction with the other members, Wooyoung had to fight the urge to make himself smaller and shy away from Yunho’s proximity.
“Thanks, Yunho. It’s almost ready. Could you set the table?”
He heard himself say it, heard how wrong it sounded, but his brain seemed determined to improvise without supervision.
"Actually," he started, trying to correct himself, but the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he just watched as Yunho moved to set the table.
Wooyoung’s hands shook slightly as he ladled the stew into a bowl, the aroma that once brought him comfort now barely registering. He felt like he was moving through a fog, each action disconnected from his racing thoughts.
The door chimed again, its cheerful tune slicing through the air. Wooyoung tensed, his eyes darting to the entryway. His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. But it was just Mingi and Yeosang, their laughter echoing through the hallway as they kicked off their shoes, the thud of footwear hitting the floor a familiar, comforting sound.
"Food!" Mingi cheered, his eyes lighting up as he made a beeline for the kitchen, the aroma of kimchi jjigae drawing him like a magnet. Yeosang stepped in after Mingi, "You'd think he hasn't eaten in days."
Wooyoung tried to focus on their conversation, nodding and laughing in the right places. As the evening wore on, Wooyoung found himself jumping at every sound; each time, it was another member, not Hongjoong.
"You okay, Wooyoung-ah?" San asked, his voice low and concerned.
Wooyoung plastered on a bright smile. "Yeah, of course! Just a little tired, that's all." San didn't look entirely convinced, but he let it slide.
The conversation flowed easily around the table as they all sat down to eat. Jongho regaled them with tales from his latest gym session while Yunho and Mingi bickered over the last piece of pork.
But Wooyoung was only half-listening, his chopsticks pushing rice around his bowl more than bringing it to his mouth. He couldn't understand why Hongjoong's absence was affecting him so much, why he felt this strange mix of worry, apprehension and longing.
San watched him from across the table, his brows furrowed in concern. When Wooyoung nearly knocked over his water glass for the second time, San leaned forward.
"Wooyoung, are you sure you're alright?" he asked softly, pitching his voice low so the others wouldn't hear.
For a moment, he considered confiding in his friend. But what would he even say? 'Hongjoong sent me a sex toy, and I don't know what it means'?
San leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Peaches?"
Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly. 'Peaches' was their code word, a signal that one of them needed to talk privately, away from the others. It was a system they had developed early on, a way to support each other through the stresses and challenges of idol life.
Wooyoung hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Peaches," he whispered back.
San's eyes were full of understanding. He squeezed Wooyoung's shoulder briefly, a silent promise, then turned back to the group conversation. In the midst of all his confusion and worry, knowing that he had San to turn to made everything feel just a little bit more manageable. Wooyoung could almost picture it: the two of them huddled together in one of their rooms, laughing about the absurdity of the situation. San would tease him gently, making some joke about Hongjoong's 'special delivery', and Wooyoung would shove him playfully, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
But beneath the laughter, San would be sincere. He'd listen carefully as Wooyoung poured out his confusion and fear, offering comfort and advice. And by the end of it, Wooyoung knew, the problem would seem smaller, less overwhelming. That was the magic of their friendship; no matter how big the issue seemed, talking it through with San always made it feel more manageable.
With that thought in mind, Wooyoung found he could breathe a little easier. The knot in his stomach loosened slightly, and he was able to focus a bit more on the conversation around him. The problem hadn't gone away, but the promise of San's support made it feel less daunting.
As the evening wore on, the members gradually dispersed, off to their rooms or out for late-night schedules. Wooyoung couldn't help but notice that through it all, the door remained silent, no chime announcing Hongjoong's arrival.
San stayed behind to help Wooyoung clear the table and wash the dishes. They worked in comfortable silence, the clatter of plates and the running of water the only sounds in the kitchen. Wooyoung was grateful for San's presence, for the normalcy and companionship he provided.
As they finished up, San turned to Wooyoung, a question in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but Wooyoung could read the concern, the unspoken 'are you okay?' in his gaze.
Wooyoung took a breath, then let it out slowly.
San's expression softened immediately. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled Wooyoung into a warm, comforting hug. Wooyoung leaned into the embrace, letting himself be held, feeling the full weight of San's support and understanding.
They stayed like that for a long moment, no words needed. When they finally pulled apart, San kept his hands on Wooyoung's shoulders, a steady, grounding presence.
"Whenever you're ready," he said softly, his voice full of understanding. "I'm here."
With one last squeeze of Wooyoung's shoulders, San turned and left, the soft click of the door echoing in the empty dorm.
As the minutes ticked by, the dorm's silence began to feel oppressive rather than comforting. Wooyoung's thoughts, no longer held at bay by San's presence and the distraction of cleaning, began to swirl and churn once more. The package, Hongjoong's absence, the unanswered questions, they all clamoured for attention in his mind, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.
Unable to sit still, Wooyoung began to pace. He wandered from his room to the kitchen, opening the fridge to stare blankly at its contents before closing it again. He found himself in the bathroom, washing his hands for no reason, the cool water doing little to calm his racing thoughts.
He was on his third circuit of the dorm, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, when the front door chimed. Wooyoung froze, his heart leaping into his throat. There was only one person it could be at this hour.
Hongjoong walked in, looking exhausted. His hair was mussed, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his backpack. The jingle of his car keys, hooked on his finger, punctuated his steps. He caught sight of Wooyoung, standing stock-still in the hallway, and paused.
"Wooyoung-ah," Hongjoong said, his voice rough with fatigue. "I'm starving. Serve me some food, would you?"
Wooyoung's heart fluttered at the blunt demand, a familiar reaction to Hongjoong's straightforward manner. He knew he should be used to it by now, but something about Hongjoong's direct approach always managed to send a thrill through him.
"Ah, hyung," Wooyoung said, a slight smile tugging at his lips despite his nervousness. "I made kimchi jjigae earlier, but the others ate it all. I didn't think to save you a portion."
Hongjoong blinked, seeming to register Wooyoung's words slowly. "You cooked?" He glanced down at his phone, as if just now realising he might have missed something. "Ah, I haven't checked the group chat..."
He looked back up at Wooyoung, a mix of appreciation and apology in his tired eyes. "Thanks for cooking for everyone, Youggie. Sorry, I missed it."
Wooyoung waved a hand, trying to ignore the way his pulse jumped at the nickname. "Don't worry about it, hyung. You were busy."
Hongjoong hummed in acknowledgement, shifting his backpack and making his keys jingle again. "I'll just take a quick shower, then find something else to eat," Hongjoong said, moving past Wooyoung towards the bathroom. He patted Wooyoung's shoulder as he passed, a casual gesture that nonetheless left a trail of warmth in its wake.
Wooyoung nodded, turning to watch Hongjoong's retreating back. "Let me know if you need anything," he called softly, not sure if Hongjoong heard him over the soft click of the bathroom door.
He stood there for a moment, his heart racing, his mind whirling. The tension between them, the unspoken questions, seemed to hang in the air like a physical presence. But Hongjoong, in his exhaustion and preoccupation, seemed oblivious to it all.
Wooyoung glanced towards his room, where the box lay hidden under his bed. The urge to confront Hongjoong about it was strong, but one look at the leader's exhausted face made him hesitate. Hongjoong had enough on his plate without Wooyoung adding to his worries.
Besides, now that the initial shock had worn off, the whole situation seemed more absurd than anything else. A sex toy? From Hongjoong? It had to be a joke, right?
Wooyoung found his feet carrying him back to his room. He closed the door softly behind him and sat on the edge of his bed, his knee bouncing. He could hear the shower running, the pipes creaking in the walls. He tried to imagine what he would say to Hongjoong when he came out.
Wooyoung groaned, covering his face with his hands. Why was this so hard? It was just Hongjoong. His leader, his friend, his... what, exactly?
That was the question, wasn't it? The one Wooyoung had been avoiding for longer than he cared to admit.
He sat up, a sudden determination filling him. He couldn't keep running from this. He needed to know what Hongjoong meant, needed to understand what was happening between them.
He stopped in front of the mirror and forced himself to meet his own eyes.
Okay, Jung Wooyoung. Breathe. You can handle this. You’ve handled way worse.
Just talk to him. Be honest. You trust him, and he’s never given you a reason not to.
A sudden, unhelpful flash of Hongjoong’s recent prolonged butt-pat made his stomach flip.
Nope. Not thinking about that right now.
He nodded at his reflection, a small, determined smile on his face. Right. Talk first. Spiral later.
As he approached Hongjoong's door, he could hear the older boy moving around inside, likely getting ready for bed. Wooyoung's heart was still pounding, but he clung to his resolve.
"Hongjoong-hyung? Can I come in?"
There was a pause, then Hongjoong's voice, muffled through the door. "Yeah, come in."
Wooyoung pushed the door open, his variety show smile already in place. Hongjoong was towelling his damp hair. He looked up as Wooyoung entered, his eyebrows raising at the sight of the box in Wooyoung's hands. Wooyoung's breath caught in his throat. Even like this, exhausted and confused, Hongjoong was beautiful.
“Hey,” Hongjoong said softly, voice rough with exhaustion. “You’re freaking out about something.”
Wooyoung took a breath, channeling all his bravado. "Well, hyung, it seems you've sent me a rather... interesting gift."
"What's that?" Hongjoong asked, his voice tired but curious.
Wooyoung's grin widened. He plopped down on the bed next to Hongjoong, setting the box between them. "This arrived for me today. From you. Or should I say, from 'Hongjoong-hyung, the sex toy fairy'?"
Hongjoong's eyes widened, a flush creeping up his neck. "What? I didn't... I mean, I wouldn't..."
Wooyoung laughed, the sound a little too loud in the small room. He was in full variety show mode now, his nerves hidden behind a mask of mischief. "Relax, hyung. I'm just teasing. But seriously, what's this about? If you wanted to spice up my love life, you could've just given me a gift card or something."
Hongjoong was turning redder by the second, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Wooyoung-ah, I really don't know what you're talking about. I didn't send you anything, I swear."
Wooyoung's bravado faltered a little at Hongjoong's obvious sincerity. He frowned, picking up the box and examining the label again. "But it has ‘Youggie’ on it. See?”
Hongjoong leaned over, squinting at the label. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god. Wooyoung, that's not... I didn't send that to you."
Wooyoung's heart sank. "You didn't? Then who...?"
Hongjoong buried his face in his hands, his ears burning red. "I... I ordered it for myself. But I must have accidentally put your name in the shipping address."
There was a beat of silence, then Wooyoung burst out laughing. He fell back on the bed, clutching his stomach as peals of laughter rolled through him. It was partly from genuine amusement, but mostly from sheer relief. All his worries, all his fears... it had all been a misunderstanding.
"Oh, hyung. I've been tied up in knots all day, thinking you were trying to send me some kind of message."
Hongjoong's blush deepened, if that were possible. "I'm so sorry, Wooyoung-ah. I never meant for you to see that." He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him hole.
Wooyoung waved a hand, his grin softening into something more understanding. "It's okay, hyung. I'm just glad we cleared it up. Though next time, maybe double-check the shipping address, yeah?"
Hongjoong huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Trust me, I will."
Wooyoung smirked, picking up the box and tossing it to Hongjoong. "All yours, hyung. Enjoy your... alone time."
As he walked back to his own room, however, the smile slipped from his face. In its place, a strange, heavy feeling settled in his chest. It was relief, he told himself. Relief that the situation had been resolved, that their friendship was still intact. But underneath that, in a quiet, hidden part of his heart, he knew it was something else. Something that felt suspiciously like disappointment. He shook his head, pushing the feeling down. It didn't matter. Hongjoong was his friend, his leader. That was all. And if sometimes, in the secret depths of night, he wished for something more... well, that was his problem to deal with. Not Hongjoong's. With a sigh, he entered his room, ready to put this whole confusing day behind him.
Wooyoung went through his usual night routine. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into comfortable sleeping clothes. The familiar rituals were soothing, helping to further ease any remaining tension.
He shot San a quick text. “The peaches are peachy. All good.” That should stop the check-ins.
As he climbed into bed, Wooyoung felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. The emotional roller coaster of the day had taken its toll, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, he could feel the fatigue seeping into his bones.
He barely had time to pull the covers over himself before his eyes were drifting shut. Sleep claimed him almost instantly, his body sinking into the mattress as his mind slipped into dreams.
The air was filled with a soft, ethereal glow, and rose petals drifted lazily through the air, their velvety texture brushing against Wooyoung's skin as he moved. And there, in the center of it all, was Hongjoong. He was reclined on the bed, his skin luminous in the otherworldly light. The rose petals seemed to caress his body, tracing delicate patterns across his bare chest and stomach.
Wooyoung's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight. Hongjoong looked like a work of art, a Renaissance painting come to life. And in his hand, almost an afterthought amidst the beauty, was the toy.
As Wooyoung watched, transfixed, Hongjoong began to insert the toy into himself. His movements were slow, languid, as if he had all the time in the world. Each gasp, each sigh, seemed to hang in the air, blending with the soft rustle of the rose petals. The sight was erotic, and Wooyoung felt himself hardening just from watching.
He felt a warmth blooming in his chest, a tender ache that had nothing to do with physical desire. In this moment, watching Hongjoong in the throes of pleasure, was as if he was seeing Hongjoong's soul laid bare, vulnerable and beautiful. Hongjoong’s eyes half-lidded with desire as he bit his lower lip in an attempt to muffle his moans as he slid the toy and out of himself. His chest rose and fell heavily, glistening with a sheen of sweat that made him even more irresistible. Wooyoung couldn't tear his eyes away from the way the toy moved inside of him, accentuating every curve and dip of his body.
Hongjoong upped the vibrations, his hips bucking against nothingness. Wooyoung could see the desire etched on his face, and it sent a thrill through him. He could see the muscles in his stomach clench and unclench with each change in vibration intensity, and it was mesmerizing.
As Hongjoong's pleasure built, the glow in the room seemed to intensify. The rose petals swirled faster, caught in an invisible current of ecstasy. When Hongjoong finally reached his climax, he threw his head back and moaned loudly “Youggie!” as he came untouched, his release spilling onto his stomach and chest. it was like a supernova, a burst of light and color that filled the room, it filled Wooyoung's heart to bursting. The sight of such raw pleasure on his hyung's face sent a shiver down his spine.
Wooyoung blinked awake in the darkness of his room, his heart racing, his body covered in sweat. He shifted, suddenly aware of his physical reaction to the dream, a very real wet sensation in his briefs. He buried his face into his pillow and groaned aloud.
"This is so not what I signed up for," he muttered to himself as he reached for the tissues he hid in his nightstand and cleaned himself up and took off his underwear, flinging it somewhere in the room. He tried to forget about the erotic display that had played out in his mind.
His body was alive with desire, with a need that went beyond the physical. The dream had changed something fundamental within him, had opened a door that he couldn't close again. His feelings for Hongjoong, the depth of his affection and desire, were laid bare in the quiet of the night.
"Fuck, I'm fucked," Wooyoung said, his voice a hoarse whisper in the darkness. The weight of his realisation settled heavily on his chest, a mix of fear, confusion, and undeniable excitement.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to think logically. He was a young, healthy man with normal desires and urges. It was natural to have these kinds of dreams, to feel attracted to someone you were close to. It didn't have to be a big deal; it’s not like it was his first time experiencing this. Though the small, sharp pinch in his chest felt… new.
So what if he had a little crush on Hongjoong? It was hardly surprising, given how much time they spent together, how much they relied on each other. Hongjoong was attractive, talented, and kind. It was easy to see why Wooyoung's subconscious might latch onto him.
But a crush was all it was, all it could be. Wooyoung couldn't let it go any further; he couldn't risk the stability of the group or the friendship he valued so deeply. He would just have to ride it out, to let the feelings run their course and fade away.
He shifted in bed, trying to ignore the way his body reacted to the mere thought of Hongjoong. That was just physical, a biological response. It didn't have to mean anything either.
Wooyoung closed his eyes, determined to fall back asleep, to put this whole confusing episode behind him. He would wake up in the morning, and everything would be normal. He would joke with Hongjoong, practice and perform with him, and do it all without a hint of the turmoil that now churned in his gut.
As he drifted off, Wooyoung felt a sense of resolve settle over him. He could do this. He could be the friend, the group member, that everyone needed him to be. His own feelings, confusing and overwhelming as they were, would just have to take a backseat.
But even as sleep claimed him, Wooyoung's mind seemed to rebel against his determination. His dreams were filled with Hongjoong, with rose petals and ethereal light, with a connection that transcended the physical. It was as if his subconscious was mocking him, reminding him of the depth of his feelings, the futility of his denial.
In the days that followed, Wooyoung threw himself into his work with renewed vigour. He attended every practice, every recording session, every variety show taping with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He was determined to prove to himself, and to everyone else, that everything was normal.
And for the most part, it was working. Wooyoung found that as long as he kept himself busy, as long as he focused on the task at hand, he could keep the thoughts of Hongjoong and the confusing feelings that came with him, at bay.
He patted himself on the back for his resilience, for his ability to push through the turmoil and come out the other side unscathed. Sure, he might notice Hongjoong a little more than usual, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the graceful lines of his body as he danced, but that was manageable. It was something he could live with.
Wooyoung threw himself into his interactions with the other members as well. He joked with Yunho, practised vocals with Jongho, and played video games with San. And hey, another victory was when San never seemed to question Wooyoung’s behaviour. If anyone had noticed, it would be his soulmate.
If sometimes his laughter was a little too loud, his smile a little too bright, well, that was just Wooyoung being Wooyoung. Nobody seemed to notice anything amiss, and Wooyoung took that as a sign that he was doing a good job.
But as the days went on, Wooyoung started to notice something else, something that had nothing to do with his own struggles. Hongjoong seemed... off. It was subtle at first, a snappish comment here, an impatient sigh there. But gradually, it became more noticeable.
Hongjoong was on edge, his temper shorter than usual. He would snap at the members over minor mistakes and would get frustrated with himself over the tiniest errors. It was so unlike the patient, understanding captain they all knew and loved that it was impossible to ignore.
Wooyoung watched, concern growing in his chest, as Hongjoong berated Mingi for missing the correct timing during recording, only to immediately apologise, his face crumpling with regret. He saw the way Hongjoong's hands shook as he tried to write lyrics, the way he would run his fingers through his hair in agitation.
As they ran through the choreography, Hongjoong missed a few steps, his timing slightly off. Seonghwa, ever the attentive one, gently corrected him, but Hongjoong just nodded tersely, his jaw clenched tight.
During a water break, Yunho cracked a joke that had everyone laughing, but Hongjoong's chuckle seemed forced, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. When San clapped him on the back in a friendly gesture, Hongjoong flinched, quickly covering it up by pretending to stretch his shoulder.
Wooyoung watched as Hongjoong grew increasingly frustrated with himself, his actions growing sharper and more aggressive. When Yeosang asked him a question about the following schedule, Hongjoong snapped at him, his tone harsher than usual. He immediately apologised, but the outburst left everyone a bit stunned.
It was clear that something was bothering Hongjoong, something that went beyond the everyday stresses of idol life. And despite his own inner turmoil, despite his determination to keep his feelings locked away, Wooyoung found that he couldn't just stand by and watch Hongjoong suffer.
He started small, bringing Hongjoong his favourite morning coffee… and then the tiny things, the ones Hongjoong never asked for; refilling his water bottle before practice, tugging his hoodie back into place when it slipped, noticing the frayed edges before anyone else did.
But as the days turned into weeks and Hongjoong's mood showed no signs of improving, he started to really worry. Hongjoong seemed to have his outbursts more under control, but the tension he was carrying ultimately did radiate onto everyone else.
He followed Hongjoong one evening, his heart in his throat, his palms sweating with nerves. When he reached the studio, he found the door ajar and saw Hongjoong inside, sitting at his computer. But the screen was blank, and Hongjoong was just staring at the wall, his eyes unfocused, his brow furrowed.
Wooyoung knocked softly on the door frame, not wanting to startle Hongjoong. "Hyung? Can I come in?"
Hongjoong startled, turning to face Wooyoung. There was a flash of something in his eyes, but it was quickly masked. "Wooyoung-ah. What are you doing here?" Wooyoung cringed; he’d been relegated to ‘Wooyoung-ah’ ever since the incident.
Wooyoung entered the room, closing the door behind him. "I'm worried about you, hyung. You've been different lately. On edge. I just wanted to see if you're okay."
Hongjoong sighed. "I'm fine, Wooyoung. Just tired."
He stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him for privacy. "Come on, hyung. I know something's bothering you. You've been on edge all week. More than that, almost for a month now."
Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's nothing, really. Nothing for you to worry about."
The words stung, to be shut out now, especially when he could see how much Hongjoong was struggling, hurt more than he cared to admit.
"I'm here for you. Please, talk to me." Wooyoung said.
Hongjoong looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment Wooyoung thought he saw something flicker in those dark eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the same guarded expression Hongjoong had been wearing all week.
"I know, Wooyoung-ah," Hongjoong said, and there was a weariness in his voice that made Wooyoung's heart ache. "And I appreciate that, I really do. But this... this is something I need to deal with on my own."
"Hyung," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it. But I want you to know that whatever it is, whatever you're going through, you don't have to face it alone. I'm here for you, not just as a member, but as a friend. As someone who cares about you deeply."
Hongjoong was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. Wooyoung could see the struggle in him, the war between his desire to keep his problems to himself and his need for support, for understanding.
Finally, Hongjoong took a shaky breath. When he looked up at Wooyoung, there was a flicker of something soft and unguarded. A kind of trust he hadn’t shown anyone in a long time.
"It's... It's about the... the thing you found," Hongjoong said, his voice barely audible.
Wooyoung's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn't expected Hongjoong to bring that up; it was the kind of thing that would go unmentioned for the rest of their lives.
"Oh," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I see."
Hongjoong ran a hand over his face, looking suddenly exhausted. "I never meant for anyone to find out," he said. "Especially not you. I don't know what you must think of me now."
Wooyoung's heart ached at the vulnerability in Hongjoong's voice. "Hyung," he said softly, "we're all human. We all have needs and desires. There's nothing wrong with that."
Hongjoong looked at him, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "I know," he said. "It's just... It's private, you know? It's not something I ever thought I'd be talking about with anyone."
Wooyoung nodded, understanding. "I get that. And I don't want to make you uncomfortable. But hyung, you don't have to feel embarrassed or ashamed. Not with me. I'm here for you, no judgment."
There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, a sense of understanding and acceptance. Then Hongjoong sighed, a sound of weariness and frustration.
"It's not just the embarrassment," he said. "It's... It's the frustration. The need."
Wooyoung frowned, a thought occurring to him. He thought back over the past weeks, over Hongjoong's increasing tension and irritability. A picture started to form in his mind.
"Hyung," he said slowly, "have you been able to use it? The toy?"
Hongjoong's silence was answer enough. Wooyoung nodded, understanding dawning on him. "You haven't been able to use it, have you?"
Hongjoong's cheeks flushed a deep red as he shook his head. "I've been too ashamed. Every time I think about it, I just can't. It's affecting everything, my mood, my concentration. I feel like I'm going crazy."
"Hyung, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's completely normal, completely healthy."
He reached out, intent on giving Hongjoong's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. But to his surprise and dismay, Hongjoong flinched away from the touch. It was subtle, just a slight tensing of the muscles, a barely noticeable lean away from Wooyoung's hand. Wooyoung noticed. Of course, he noticed. This wasn't the first time Hongjoong had shied away from his touch recently. There had been other moments. But this wasn’t about him, so he swallowed his hurt, his confusion, and instead just smiled reassuringly.
Hongjoong met Wooyoung's eyes. "You don't think it's weird?"
Wooyoung shook his head. "It's perfectly normal to have desires and needs." He reiterated.
"But it's embarrassing, knowing that you know about it," Hongjoong confessed.
"Listen, I have an idea. What if I clear everyone is out of the dorm, and you have the place to yourself? That way, you can do what you need to do without feeling any pressure or worrying about anyone finding out."
Hongjoong looked shocked. "Wooyoung-ah, you don't have to do that."
But Wooyoung was already shaking his head. "You're not asking. I'm offering. You're our captain, hyung. We need you at your best."
Hongjoong's blush deepened, if that was even possible. "But you'll still know what I'm doing."
Wooyoung smiled softly. "Hyung, I promise I won't think any differently of you. You're still the same talented, hardworking, and amazing person I've always known. This doesn't change that."
Hongjoong looked like he might cry from relief. "Thank you, Wooyoung-ah. Truly."
Wooyoung grinned. "What are friends for? Now, does tonight work for you? I'll make sure the coast is clear."
Hongjoong could only nod in reply. With that, Wooyoung left the studio, his mind already planning how to get the other members out of the dorm. It was the least he could do for Hongjoong.
But as he walked, Wooyoung couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Hongjoong's behaviour than just physical frustration. The way he had flinched away from Wooyoung's touch... it was like he couldn't bear the contact. The way he had changed the way he addressed Wooyoung. Did Hongjoong know about his feelings? Was he uncomfortable with Wooyoung's affection because of it? Had he not been playing such a sleek game after all? Was Hongjoong self-conscious about the fact that Wooyoung had feelings for him while engaging in that type of activity?
“Whatever, get it together, Jung.” Wooyoung whispered to himself as he booked a fancy restaurant for the members and added “My treat” to the group chat. All the members answered in their own way to show their excitement, and Hongjoong excused himself.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the array of items laid out before him. The toys, a bottle of lube, and a towel. Everything he needed for a night of self-indulgence. He had even gone through the trouble of cleaning himself thoroughly, wanting to be fully prepared, or maybe his subconscious was stalling him.
He was wearing a loose, comfortable t-shirt and a pair of soft, worn sweatpants. He had forgone underwear, anticipating the night's activities, but now he felt exposed, even in the privacy of his own room. He found himself confronted with his hesitation, nervous energy palpable. It wasn't that he didn't want to do this. God, he wanted it. His body was practically thrumming with need, the weeks of pent-up frustration making itself known.
But every time he reached for the toys, every time he thought about actually using them, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. He couldn't shake the feeling of Wooyoung knowing, of Wooyoung picturing him in this moment.
He tried to calm his racing heart as he reached for his laptop, hoping that some adult content might help set the mood. But as he scrolled through the videos, nothing seemed to appeal to him. They were all too rough, too whiny, too... not what he was looking for. Frustration welled up inside him again, and he slammed the laptop shut with a sigh.
It wasn't just the embarrassment, though that was undoubtedly part of it. It was also something else. Something he had been trying very hard not to think about. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Wooyoung. Wooyoung's hands on him, Wooyoung's voice in his ear, Wooyoung's body against his.
It was a fantasy he had been harbouring for longer than he cared to admit, a desire he had been pushing down, denying, for the sake of the group, for the sake of their friendship. But now, with Wooyoung's kindness, understanding, and support, those feelings were harder to ignore than ever. It was like a dam had broken in Hongjoong's heart, and all the longing was pouring out, unstoppable.
He had thought, foolishly, that this night alone, this chance to relieve his physical frustration, would help. If he could find release, the emotional turmoil would settle and become manageable again. But sitting here, surrounded by the trappings of self-pleasure, Hongjoong knew it was futile. His body might crave release, but his heart... his heart craved something else entirely.
With a sigh of defeat, Hongjoong began packing the items, his movements mechanical and numb. He couldn't do this. Not now, not like this. It felt too much like using Wooyoung, even if only in his fantasies, and that was a line Hongjoong refused to cross.
He carefully placed the toy, the lube, and the other smaller toys he had considered using into his special box of adult accessories. The box was discreet, black and unmarked; it held a variety of items. Different lubes, condoms, and toys of various shapes and sizes. Things he had collected over time, things that had pleased him in the past.
But now, even the sight of the box made his stomach twist with a mix of shame and longing. He closed it with a snap, then slid it back into its usual hiding place, under his bed, tucked behind a stack of old lyrics notebooks and composition pads. Out of sight, but not out of mind. Never out of mind.
When everything was put away, Hongjoong suddenly felt the need to cover himself. He grabbed a pair of underwear from his drawer and slipped them on, then pulled a hoodie over his head. The layers made him feel a little less exposed, a little more in control.
But it was a flimsy armour, and he knew it. No amount of clothing could protect him from his own heart, from the desire that burned under his skin. With a heavy sigh, he picked up his phone, stared at the screen for a long moment, his thumb hovering over Wooyoung's contact.
He should tell him, he knew. Should let Wooyoung know that he didn't need to keep the others away anymore, that the plan had been a bust. But something held him back, some fear, some shame, that he couldn't quite name. In the end, he settled for a simple text.
"You don't need to keep people at bay anymore. I'm okay. Thanks for everything."
He hit send before he could second-guess himself, then tossed the phone aside. He fell back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Hongjoong's phone buzzed almost immediately, Wooyoung's reply lighting up the screen.
"That's great, hyung! I'm so glad it worked. You deserve to feel good, you know? Don't ever be ashamed of that."
Hongjoong stared at the message, guilt twisting in his gut. Wooyoung was so genuinely happy for him, so relieved that Hongjoong had supposedly found the release he needed. It felt wrong to let him believe that, to lie to him, even by omission.
With a heavy sigh, Hongjoong typed out another message.
"Actually, it didn't really pan out. Couldn't go through with it. But thank you anyway, Wooyoung-ah. I appreciate everything you did."
He sent the message, then immediately regretted it. He shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have burdened Wooyoung with his failure. But it was too late now, the message was read as soon as he sent it. There was no use in deleting it.
Sure enough, Wooyoung's response came through a moment later. "Hyung, are you okay? Do you want to talk about it? I can come back if you need me."
His heart clenched at the offer, at the genuine concern in Wooyoung's words. He wanted to say yes, wanted to ask Wooyoung to come back, to hold him, to chase away the loneliness, the shame, the frustration. But he couldn't. He couldn't put that on Wooyoung, couldn't risk revealing the depth of his feelings in a moment of weakness.
So he didn't reply. He just put his phone on silent and set it aside, curling up on his bed, exhaustion seeping into his bones. The emotional rollercoaster of the day, coupled with the weeks of pent-up frustration, had drained him completely. He felt raw, exposed, like a nerve ending rubbed too many times.
He wanted Wooyoung. God, he wanted him so badly it was a physical ache in his chest. But he also tried to push him away, to hide from him, to protect him from the mess that Hongjoong had become. Tears pricked at his eyes, hot and stinging, and he let them fall. There was no one here to see, no one to judge him for his weakness. He cried silently, his face pressed into his pillow.
He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knew, there was a soft knock at his door. He sat up, disoriented, his heart pounding. He knew who it was, knew it with a certainty that both thrilled and terrified him.
"Hyung?" Wooyoung's voice was soft, tentative. "Are you in there? I'm coming in, okay?"
Hongjoong's throat tightened. He wanted to answer, but he was afraid that if he did, Wooyoung would hear the tears in his voice, the rawness of his emotion.
"Hyung, please," Wooyoung tried again, his voice laced with worry. "If you don't want to talk, that's okay. Just... just let me know you're alright."
Hongjoong took a deep, shuddering breath. He couldn't leave Wooyoung hanging like this, couldn't let him worry.
"I'm here," he said, his voice rough from crying. "I'm... I'm okay, Wooyoung-ah. Just tired."
"Hyung, please," Wooyoung said softly, his voice muffled by the door. "I just need to see you, just for a moment. I need to know you're alright."
Hongjoong's heart raced, knowing he couldn't refuse Wooyoung's request, knowing how Wooyoung was incredibly kind at heart but equally persistent. He quickly wiped at his face, trying to erase the evidence of his tears, and took a deep breath to compose himself.
"Okay, Wooyoung-ah," he said, his voice still rough around the edges. "Just... just give me a second."
He crossed to the door, his hand hesitating on the handle. He took another breath, steeling himself, then opened the door just a crack.
Wooyoung's face was etched with worry, his brow furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. When he saw Hongjoong, his expression softened into something akin to heartbreak.
Hongjoong's heart raced as Wooyoung stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the stillness, a finality that made Hongjoong's stomach twist with nerves.
"Oh, hyung," Wooyoung murmured, his voice so gentle it made Hongjoong's chest ache.
Instinctively, Hongjoong stepped back, retreating from Wooyoung's outstretched hand. He kept moving until he felt the edge of his bed against his calves, a physical barrier between him and the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
Wooyoung didn't follow, didn't push into Hongjoong's space. He just stood there, his hand falling back to his side, his eyes full of a tenderness that Hongjoong couldn't bear to look at directly.
He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. If he opened his mouth now, he was afraid everything would come pouring out. The love, the longing, the desperation, aching need.
The only light came from the bedside lamp, casting the room in a soft, warm glow. It made everything feel more intimate, more vulnerable, like a secret shared between just the two of them.
Unable to stand the exposure, Hongjoong turned and crawled into his bed, pulling the duvet over himself like a shield. Maybe if he couldn't see Wooyoung, couldn't feel the weight of his gaze, it would be easier to breathe, to think.
But Wooyoung, as always, seemed to understand. He didn't try to pull the covers back or force Hongjoong to look at him. He just sat down on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress, his presence a comfort and a torture all at once.
"Hyung," he said softly, "you don't have to tell me everything. But please, don't shut me out. Don't suffer alone."
Hongjoong felt his throat tighten, felt the burn of tears behind his eyes. How did Wooyoung always know, always see right through him?
"I... I can't do this anymore, Wooyoung-ah," he whispered, his voice muffled by the duvet. "I can't keep pretending that I'm okay, that I'm not... that I'm not falling apart."
He heard Wooyoung's breath catch, listened to the rustle of fabric as he shifted on the bed. For a moment, Hongjoong thought he might reach out, might try to pull him into a hug. But he didn't. He just sat there, close but not touching, respecting Hongjoong's unspoken boundaries.
"Then don't, hyung," Wooyoung said, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't pretend. Not with me. Never with me."
Hongjoong's heart clenched at the words, at the sincerity in Wooyoung's voice. He wanted so badly to believe him, to let himself fall into the comfort Wooyoung was offering. But he couldn't. He couldn't risk it, couldn't risk ruining everything with his foolish, hopeless feelings.
"Wooyoung-ah," he breathed, his hand clenching in the duvet. "I don't know what I need. I don't know what to do."
It was the closest he could come to the truth, the closest he could come to admitting the depth of his longing. Wooyoung was silent for a long moment, the only sound the ragged edge of Hongjoong's breathing.
"You know, hyung," Wooyoung said, his voice light and casual, "I heard a funny joke the other day. What do you call a bear with no teeth?"
He paused, waiting for Hongjoong to respond. But Hongjoong remained silent, still huddled under the duvet. Undeterred, Wooyoung continued. "A gummy bear!" he said, delivering the punchline with an exaggerated flourish.
For a moment, there was no reaction. But then, from beneath the covers, came a slight, muffled sound. It took Wooyoung a second to realise what it was: a chuckle. Encouraged, Wooyoung grinned. "Ah, so you do still have a sense of humour under there," he teased gently. "I was starting to worry."
The duvet shifted, and Hongjoong's face emerged, just a little. His eyes were still red-rimmed, his expression still guarded, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"That was terrible, Wooyoung-ah," he said, his voice rough from crying but tinged with amusement.
Wooyoung shrugged, his grin widening. "Maybe so, but it made you laugh, didn't it?"
Hongjoong shook his head, but he couldn't hide the way his smile grew, just a fraction. "You're impossible," he muttered, but there was no heat in it. Wooyoung counted it as a win. Hongjoong was talking to him, was engaging with him. It was a small step, but it was a step in the right direction.
"Impossible is my middle name," Wooyoung quipped, keeping his tone light. "Well, actually, it's not. But it could be. I think it has a nice ring to it, Jung 'Impossible' Wooyoung. It’s a real shame my family name isn’t Kim."
This time, Hongjoong's chuckle was a little louder, a little more real. "You're ridiculous," he said, but there was a fondness in his voice that made Wooyoung's heart warm.
"Ridiculously charming, you mean," Wooyoung countered, putting on an exaggerated pout.
Hongjoong rolled his eyes, but he was definitely smiling now. The tension in the room had eased, replaced by something lighter, something more comfortable.
Wooyoung let the moment linger, let Hongjoong bask in the warmth of their shared laughter. But he knew he couldn't let it end there. Hongjoong had opened up to him, had let him in, and Wooyoung wasn't about to let that trust go to waste.
Gently, he shifted on the bed, turning to face Hongjoong more fully. "Hyung," he said, his voice quiet but earnest, "I know we're joking around, but... I want you to know that I'm here for you. Really here for you."
Hongjoong's smile faded, but he didn't retreat, didn't hide away again. He just looked at Wooyoung, his eyes searching, vulnerable. Wooyoung took it as a sign to continue.
"I know it's hard," he said, his voice soft but steady. "I know it feels like everything is too much, like you can't handle it all. But you don't have to handle it alone."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "What always helps me," Wooyoung continued, "is to focus on my breathing. Just simple, deep breaths. In and out, nice and slow. It helps to calm my mind, to make everything feel a little more manageable."
He demonstrated, taking a deep breath in through his nose, holding it for a moment, then letting it out in a slow, controlled exhale. "Why don't you try it with me?" he suggested gently. "Just breathe, hyung. In and out. You don't have to do anything else, just close your eyes and breathe."
As Wooyoung spoke, as he guided Hongjoong through the simple breathing exercise, something shifted in the air between them. Hongjoong's breaths began to sync with Wooyoung's, the rise and fall of his chest mirroring the steady rhythm Wooyoung had set. With each inhale, each exhale, Wooyoung could see the tension draining from Hongjoong's body, could see the tightness in his shoulders easing, the furrow in his brow smoothing out.
In this moment, breathing together in the soft light of Hongjoong's bedroom, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
For Wooyoung, it was a bittersweet situation. He had gotten so good at pushing those feelings down, at locking them away in a corner of his heart, that sometimes he could almost convince himself they weren't there at all.
But now, in this intimate moment, with Hongjoong so close and so vulnerable, those feelings were impossible to ignore. They surged to the surface, filling Wooyoung's chest with a warmth that was both wonderful and terrifying. He wanted to reach out, to pull Hongjoong into his arms and hold him close, to whisper all the words of comfort and affection that were bubbling up in his throat.
But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. Hongjoong needed a friend right now, needed someone to lean on without any added complications. Wooyoung's feelings, as strong and as real as they were, had no place here. So, with a practice born of years of self-control, Wooyoung pushed them back down. He focused on his breathing, on being present for Hongjoong in the way he needed.
For Hongjoong, the breathing exercise was like a lifeline. With each inhale, each exhale, he could feel his mind clearing, could feel the fog of emotions that had been suffocating him start to dissipate. It wasn't a complete relief. The underlying issues, the stresses, fears and doubts, were still there. But for the first time in what felt like forever, they weren't overwhelming him.
It was like he had been drowning, and Wooyoung's steady presence, his gentle guidance, was pulling him back to the surface. Hongjoong latched onto that presence like a man grasping for a life raft. He let Wooyoung's voice wash over him, let the rhythm of their shared breaths anchor him in the present moment. Hongjoong felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in a long time: peace. It was fleeting, fragile, but it was there. A tiny oasis of calm amidst the chaos of his thoughts and emotions.
With his eyes closed, Hongjoong continued to breathe, letting Wooyoung's presence soothe his frayed nerves. He felt like he was floating, suspended in a moment of tranquillity that he never wanted to end.
Wooyoung, seeing the effect his words were having, decided to guide Hongjoong further into relaxation. "That's it, hyung," he murmured, his voice a soft caress in the quiet of the room. "You're doing so well. Now, I want you to focus on your body. Start with your neck and shoulders. They hold so much tension, so much stress. Imagine that tension melting away with each breath you take."
Hongjoong followed Wooyoung's instructions, his mind latching onto each word like a lifeline. He visualised the tightness in his neck and shoulders dissipating, imagined it draining away with every exhale.
"Good, hyung. So good," Wooyoung praised, his voice warm with approval. "Now, let that relaxation spread down your arms, to your fingertips. Feel the tension release, feel your muscles go loose and heavy."
Hongjoong did as he was told, marvelling at the sensation of his body sinking deeper into the mattress, of every part of him feeling weighted and yet utterly weightless at the same time.
Wooyoung continued his gentle narration, guiding Hongjoong's focus down his body, encouraging him to relax each muscle group in turn. With every word, every breath, Hongjoong felt himself slipping further and further into a state of deep relaxation.
It was a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His mind, usually so busy, so full of worries and doubts, was quiet. His body, generally so tense, so full of aches and pains, was loose and pliant.
At the centre of it all was Wooyoung. Wooyoung's voice, Wooyoung's presence, Wooyoung's care. In this moment, Hongjoong felt more connected to him than he ever had before. It was like Wooyoung was inside his head, inside his heart, filling every part of him with a sense of peace and acceptance.
When Wooyoung's voice took on a different tone, a hint of something deeper, something more intimate, Hongjoong didn't even question it. "Hyung," Wooyoung breathed, "I want you to imagine your own hands on your body. Picture them moving over your skin, touching you the way you need to be touched."
In Hongjoong's mind, it wasn't his own hands he pictured, but Wooyoung's. He saw those long, graceful fingers trailing over his chest, his stomach, dipping lower… A small gasp escaped Hongjoong's lips, his body responding to the mental image with a surge of heat.
"That's it, hyung," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "Let yourself feel. Let yourself want."
Hongjoong, still under the duvet, tentatively let his hand drift down to his stomach. Even through the layers of his hoodie and t-shirt, the touch sent a shiver through him. It was a simple gesture, innocent even, but in his heightened state, it felt electric.
Wooyoung, watching the subtle movement of Hongjoong's hand beneath the covers, felt his heart skip a beat. He knew he was walking a fine line, knew that he was steering them into uncharted territory. But the trust Hongjoong was placing in him, the way he was opening up and letting Wooyoung guide him... it was intoxicating.
"That's good, hyung," Wooyoung murmured, his voice a soothing balm in the charged atmosphere. "Just let yourself feel. There's no shame here, no judgment. It's just you and me."
Emboldened by Wooyoung's words, by the safety and acceptance they promised, Hongjoong let his hand drift higher, skimming over his chest. He could feel his heart pounding beneath his palm, could feel the heat of his skin even through the fabric.
Wooyoung, seeing Hongjoong's growing comfort, decided to push a little further. "Hyung," he said softly, "if you want, you can touch your skin. It's okay. You're safe here."
Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. But Wooyoung's reassurance, the gentle encouragement in his voice, was impossible to resist.
Slowly, almost shyly, Hongjoong slipped his hand beneath his hoodie, beneath his t-shirt. The first brush of his fingertips against his bare stomach made him gasp; everything felt too intense tonight.
Wooyoung's breath caught at the sound, at the knowledge of what Hongjoong was doing. He clenched his hands in his lap, resisting the urge to reach out, to replace Hongjoong's hand with his own.
"That's it, hyung," he said instead, his voice a little rougher than before. "You're doing so well. Just keep breathing, keep feeling."
Hongjoong obeyed, his hand moving in slow, tentative strokes over his skin. Each touch sent sparks through his body, each caress fanning the flame that was growing in his belly.
Almost without realising it, Hongjoong began to shift, began to squirm under the covers. The duvet suddenly felt too heavy, too confining. He needed more space, more freedom to move. As if reading his mind, Wooyoung spoke again. "If you want to take off your hoodie, hyung, you can. Whatever makes you comfortable."
Hongjoong's eyes fluttered open as he slowly sat up, his movements languid, almost dreamlike. Wooyoung watched as he grasped the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head, the action seeming to take an eternity.
As the hoodie fell away, Wooyoung's breath caught in his throat. Hongjoong's eyes, usually so sharp and clear, were glazed over, unfocused. It was a look Wooyoung had never seen before, a look that spoke of a deep, almost trancelike state.
For a moment, Wooyoung felt a flicker of uncertainty. Was this okay? Was he pushing Hongjoong too far, taking advantage of his vulnerable state?
But then Hongjoong's hand was moving again, skimming over his own chest, brushing over his nipples through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The touch elicited a soft gasp, Hongjoong's eyes fluttering shut once more.
Wooyoung swallowed hard, his own body responding to the sight, to the sound. No, he reassured himself. He wasn't taking advantage. He was helping Hongjoong, guiding him towards the release he needed.
"That's it, hyung," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Just keep touching, keep exploring. Let yourself feel good."
Hongjoong responded with a soft hum, his hand continuing its slow, sensual path over his upper body. The duvet still covered his lower half, a barrier maintaining a sense of modesty, of separation.
Wooyoung, remembering the toy, decided it was time to bring it out. "Hyung," he said softly, "where's the box from earlier? The one with the item you ordered?"
Hongjoong's eyes opened a fraction, his gaze hazy as it met Wooyoung's. "Under... bed..." he murmured, the words taking great effort. Wooyoung nodded, then, slowly, so as not to startle Hongjoong, he reached under the bed. His fingers brushed against something smooth and cool, and he grasped it, carefully pulling it out.
He lifted the lid, just a peek to confirm the contents. His eyes widened as he took in the array of items inside. It was far more extensive than the single item Hongjoong had ordered, a veritable treasure trove of intimate accessories.
Wooyoung felt a flush creep up his neck, a mixture of embarrassment and something else, something darker and more primal. The thought of Hongjoong using these, of Hongjoong finding pleasure with these…
He shook his head, dispelling the images. Now was not the time for such thoughts. Hongjoong needed him, needed his support and understanding, not his lustful imaginings. Schooling his features into a neutral expression, Wooyoung closed the box and set it on the bed next to Hongjoong, within easy reach.
"Everything you need is right here, hyung," he said, his voice gentle but firm, betraying none of the agitation he felt inside. "Whenever you're ready, you can use these."
Wooyoung paused, taking in Hongjoong's state. The glazed eyes, the flushed skin, the slow, almost languid movements... it was clear Hongjoong was in a different headspace, a place of deep vulnerability.
Wooyoung's heart clenched. He needed to handle this carefully, needed to make sure Hongjoong felt safe and supported.
"You're doing so well, hyung," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "I'm so proud of you for letting yourself feel, for trusting me with this. You're amazing, you know that?"
Hongjoong hummed softly, his eyes fluttering open to meet Wooyoung's. There was a softness there, a tenderness that made Wooyoung's breath catch. Wooyoung smiled, fighting back the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. "Always, hyung. I'm always here for you."
He let the moment linger, let the warmth and connection between them settle. Hongjoong's hand had drifted back to his own body, tracing idle patterns on his stomach, occasionally dipping beneath the duvet over his sweatpants.
Wooyoung swallowed hard, knowing it was time for him to leave, to give Hongjoong the privacy he needed. He didn't want Hongjoong to feel any shame or regret later on.
"I'll... I'll let you have some time alone now, hyung," he said softly, starting to stand up. "I'll be just outside if you need me."
But as he moved to leave, Hongjoong's reaction was immediate and intense. He sat up quickly, his hand shooting out to grasp Wooyoung's arm, his eyes wide and panicked.
"No!" his voice whispered in desperation. "No, please, don't go. Don't leave me alone."
Wooyoung was stunned by both the strength of Hongjoong's grip and the raw emotion in his voice. He had never seen Hongjoong like this, so openly needy, so vulnerable.
"Okay, okay," he soothed, quickly sitting back down. "I'm not going anywhere, hyung. I'm right here. I won't leave you."
Hongjoong's grip relaxed slightly, but he didn't let go. His eyes searched Wooyoung's, a silent plea, a wordless request. Wooyoung's mind raced. What did Hongjoong need from him? How could he provide comfort without crossing any lines?
As if in answer, Hongjoong lay back down and let his other hand drift back to his stomach, then lower, slipping beneath his waistband. His eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp escaping his lips.
Wooyoung's mouth went dry. Oh. OH.
Hongjoong needed him to continue. To guide him, to talk him through this. It was a role Wooyoung had never imagined himself in, a situation he had never dreamed of. But looking at Hongjoong, seeing the trust, the need, the raw desire. He knew he couldn't refuse. Knew he didn't want to.
"Hyung," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Is this what you need? Do you want me to... to keep talking to you, while you...?"
He trailed off, unable to say the words. But Hongjoong understood. He nodded, his eyes still closed, his hand still moving slowly beneath the fabric of his sweatpants.
Wooyoung took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This was uncharted territory, a level of intimacy he had never experienced. But for Hongjoong, he would do it. For Hongjoong, he would do anything.
"Okay, hyung," he said softly, settling back into his role as guide, as support. "Just keep touching yourself, just like that. Nice and slow, feel every sensation. I'm right here with you. I'm not going anywhere."
Hongjoong whimpered, the sound sending a jolt straight to Wooyoung's core. His hand began to move faster, his breathing picking up. The energy erratic, and the pressure around Wooyoung’s wrist tightening.
But something niggled at the back of Wooyoung's mind, a thought that cut through the haze of arousal and intimacy. Hongjoong had gotten that toy for a reason. He had wants, needs, fantasies that went beyond just his hand.
Would he be satisfied with this? Would he look back on this moment with regret, wishing he had fully explored his desires? Wooyoung couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let Hongjoong settle, couldn't let him miss out on the full experience he craved.
"Hyung," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Slow down. You deserve to savour this, to feel every sensation. Let's take it slow, okay?"
Hongjoong's eyes fluttered open, hazy and pleading. "Wooyoung-ah," he breathed, his voice rough with need. "Please... I need..."
Wooyoung's heart clenched at the desperation in Hongjoong's voice. "I know, hyung. I'm right here with you. But I want you to have the best experience possible. Will you let me guide you? Will you trust me to lead you through this?"
Hongjoong stared at him for a long moment, his expression vulnerable, trusting. Then, slowly, he nodded, his hand stilling its movements, and even took his hand out from under the covers.
Wooyoung smiled, warmth and affection surging in his chest. "Thank you, hyung. I promise, I'll take care of you."
He reached for the box with his free hand, opened it, and perused the contents. He selected a bottle of lube and a simple, sleek toy, one that he thought would offer a good range of sensations without being too overwhelming.
"I want you to use this, hyung," he said, pressing the toy into Hongjoong's hand that wasn’t clasped around his wrist. "Take your time, prepare yourself thoroughly. Focus on the sensations, on what feels good."
Hongjoong's breath hitched, his eyes widening as he looked at the toy. For a moment, Wooyoung thought he might hesitate, might pull back.
But then Hongjoong shifted as he manoeuvred to pull down his sweatpants with just one hand. His grip on Wooyoung's wrist was unrelenting, the fabric bunched and caught, refusing to cooperate with his uncoordinated efforts.
Wooyoung could see the frustration building in Hongjoong's face, the desperation in his eyes as he fought to free himself from his clothing without letting go of his anchor.
"Hyung," Wooyoung murmured, his voice gentle, "it's okay. You can let go of my wrist. I promise I won't go anywhere."
But Hongjoong shook his head vehemently, his grip tightening to the point of pain. "No," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "No, I... I can't. I need... I need to feel you’re here. Please."
Wooyoung's heart clenched at the plea, at the raw vulnerability in Hongjoong's voice. He couldn't bear to see Hongjoong like this, struggling and desperate, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world of chaos. But he also knew that Hongjoong needed to let go and trust that Wooyoung would still be there, even without the physical connection.
Gently, he placed his free hand over Hongjoong's, not trying to pry his fingers loose but just resting there, a reassuring weight.
"Hyung, listen to me," he said, putting all the certainty, all the love he felt into his voice. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here with you, no matter what. But you need both hands for this. You need to be able to focus on yourself, on your pleasure."
Hongjoong's eyes searched his, desperation warring with trust in their depths.
Wooyoung held his gaze, steady and sure. "I have an idea," he said softly. "A way for you to feel me, to know I'm here, without holding my wrist. Will you let me show you?"
There was a long, tense moment where Wooyoung thought Hongjoong might refuse, might cling to him even tighter.
But then, slowly, incrementally, Hongjoong's grip began to loosen. His fingers uncurled from Wooyoung's wrist, leaving behind red marks that Wooyoung knew would bruise. "That's it, hyung," he murmured, his voice a calm, steady anchor in the charged atmosphere. "Just take your time. There's no rush. You're doing so well."
Hongjoong followed his instructions, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each one required immense concentration. Wooyoung watched, his heart swelling with tenderness and pride at the trust Hongjoong was placing in him.
When the sweatpants were finally off, they were kicked to the side of the bed. Wooyoung spoke again. "Now, hyung, I want you to get comfortable. Bend your knees, find a position that feels good for you. And remember, once you're settled, I'll be right here. I'll be touching you, so you always know I'm with you."
Hongjoong nodded, his breath hitching slightly as he shifted on the bed and uncovered himself. Pulling the duvet to the side. He drew his knees up, his feet flat on the mattress, exposing himself in a way that made Wooyoung's temperature rise.
Hongjoong, lying on the bed, naked from the waist down, was more beautiful than in his wildest dream. His body, the natural curves. As much as he tried to be respectful, his body betrayed him. His own arousal made itself known.
But he pushed those feelings aside. This was about Hongjoong, about his comfort, his pleasure.
Once Hongjoong stilled, his body finding a position of ease, Wooyoung moved. He shifted to the foot of the bed, settling himself on the edge. Hoping Hongjoong’s bent knee would obscure some of what was going on. Wooyoung didn’t want to infringe on what was happening more than necessary.
Slowly, giving Hongjoong time to adjust, to pull away if he needed, Wooyoung reached out and took Hongjoong's ankle in his hand. Hongjoong startled slightly at the contact, a soft gasp escaping his lips. But then he relaxed, his body melting into the mattress as Wooyoung began to rub soothing circles into his skin.
"There you go, hyung," Wooyoung whispered, his voice warm with affection. "I'm right here. I've got you. Just focus on yourself now. Focus on what feels good."
Hongjoong’s eyes flickered to Wooyoung, then back to his own body. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his nerves. Slowly, he reached for the lube. He uncapped it with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet room. A generous amount of the slick liquid dripped onto his fingertips, glistening under the warm light. His heart pounded in his ears, each beat a reminder of the vulnerability he was about to embrace.
With deliberate slowness, Hongjoong brought his hand to his entrance, his fingers hovering just above. His breath caught in his throat as he teased the rim, his body instinctively tensing. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation, the cool lube contrasting with the warmth of his skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pressed his fingers inside, his body arching slightly as he breached the tight barrier.
The intrusion sent a jolt of sensation through him, a pleasure that made his toes curl. He pushed deeper, his fingers sinking into the warmth, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his body trembling with the effort of surrendering to the sensation.
Wooyoung watched silently, his eyes never leaving Hongjoong’s face. There was no judgment, only a quiet encouragement in his gaze. Hongjoong’s hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his fingers stretching him open, inch by inch. His breath quickened, his chest heaving with each thrust of his hand. His cock twitched with need, the head glistening with pre-cum.
"That's it, hyung," Wooyoung murmured, his voice low and encouraging. "Nice and slow. Just feel it. Feel how good it is." Hongjoong whimpered, the sound sending a jolt straight to Wooyoung's core. But he kept his touch gentle, his thumb never ceasing its soothing motion on Hongjoong's ankle.
The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with tension and desire. Hongjoong’s focus was singular, his entire being consumed by the sensations coursing through him. He pulled his fingers out slowly, his hole sucking at them reluctantly before releasing them with a soft pop. His breath came in sharp pants, his body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.
Reaching for the toy on the bedside table, Hongjoong’s hand trembled as he slicked it with lube. He paused, his eyes meeting Wooyoung’s for a fleeting moment, before looking away, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and desire.
With a final, determined breath, Hongjoong positioned the toy at his entrance. His fingers trembled as he pressed it inside, his hole swallowing it inch by inch. His body arched off the bed, a soft moan escaping his lips as the toy stretched him further than his fingers ever could. The sensation was overwhelming, leaving him teetering on the edge of surrender.
His fingers, still slick with lube, returned to his hole, pressing inside alongside the toy. His body quivered, his muscles straining as he adjusted to the fullness. His cock throbbed, the head leaking pre-cum onto his abdomen, a testament to his arousal. Hongjoong’s breath came in short, desperate gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Wooyoung leaned forward, his voice soft but firm. “You’re doing amazing,” he murmured, his words a balm to Hongjoong’s frayed nerves. Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting Wooyoung’s for a moment before dropping to his own body. His fingers were buried deep in his ass, the toy nestled within him, a foreign presence that felt both invasive and exhilarating.
The room was silent except for the sound of Hongjoong’s laboured breathing. His cock twitched, the head swollen and flushed.
"You're doing so well, hyung," Wooyoung praised. "I bet you're starting to feel really good, aren't you? Your body was craving to be filled up, wasn’t it? Something that would make you feel complete?”
Hongjoong whimpered, his hips bucking up involuntarily at Wooyoung's words. He was so hard it was almost painful, his body thrumming with a need he'd never allowed himself to fully acknowledge before.
"You're amazing, hyung," Wooyoung murmured, his voice filled with awe and affection. "The way you're letting yourself feel, the way you're embracing your needs... It's incredible. I'm so proud of you."
Hongjoong moaned, the praise washing over him like a physical caress. He worked the toy deeper, his body eagerly, hungrily accepting it.
But even as pleasure coursed through him, even as the toy brushed against that spot inside him that made stars explode behind his eyelids, Hongjoong felt a yearning for more. The toy was good, so good, but it wasn't quite enough. He needed... he needed…
"Wooyoung-ah," he gasped, his voice strained with need. "I... I need..."
Wooyoung, attuned to every nuance of Hongjoong's body, every hitch of his breath, leaned forward. "What do you need, hyung?" he asked softly. "Tell me. Let me help you."
Hongjoong shook his head, frustration and desperation on his face. The words wouldn't come, lost in the haze of sensation, of unfulfilled desire.
Wooyoung's eyes drifted to Hongjoong's neglected erection, flushed and straining against his stomach. "Do you need to be touched, hyung?" he asked gently. "Do you want me to guide your hand, to help you stroke yourself?"
But Hongjoong shook his head again, a whimper escaping his throat. That wasn't it. That wasn't what he needed.
Wooyoung frowned, his mind racing. What else could it be? What was Hongjoong trying to tell him? And then it hit him. The new toy. The one Hongjoong had been so eager to try.
"Hyung," Wooyoung said, his voice low and intense, "do you need to be filled up more? Do you need something bigger, something that will make you feel complete?"
Hongjoong's eyes flew open, locking with Wooyoung's. The desperation, the raw need in his gaze was answer enough. Wooyoung smiled, a soft, understanding curve of his lips. "I've got you, hyung. Let's get you what you need."
Carefully, he reached into the box, his fingers closing around the vibrating plug. He pressed the “on” button at the base of the toy, a small blue light turned on, and a short vibration indicated it was ready for use. He also retrieved the remote.
"Okay, hyung," he said softly, "I want you to take out the other toy, nice and slow. Can you do that for me?"
Hongjoong nodded, his breath shuddering out of him as he carefully removed the smaller toy.
The loss left him feeling empty, aching, but the promise of what was to come had him trembling with anticipation. Wooyoung handed him the new plug, watching as Hongjoong generously coated it with lube.
Hongjoong’s heart was pounding, his blood rushing in his ears as he brought it down between his legs, teasingly circling his entrance with the slick tip.
"Go slow," Wooyoung breathed out, his own voice raspy with restraint. "Listen to your body."
Hongjoong nodded stiffly, his eyes locked on Wooyoung's as he slowly began to ease the toy inside himself. The stretch was more noticeable now, the girth of the butt plug testing him in ways the slim one hadn't. Wooyoung's praise spurred him on, his voice a constant presence in the dimly lit room. "That's it, hyung. You're doing so well."
A low moan escaped Hongjoong's lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he adjusted to the new sensation. Wooyoung watched, entranced, as the captain’s chest heaved with each ragged breath, his other hand gripping the sheets tightly.
"That's it," Wooyoung purred, his voice low and soothing. "Just breathe through it, hyung. You’re doing so well. You deserve this." Those words toyed with Hongjoong’s mind, and he had to suppress a moan. Covering his mouth with his hand.
"No one's here but us," Wooyoung whispered "You can let it out, hyung. I want to hear you."
Hongjoong moaned freely as the tip of the plug brushed against a particularly sensitive spot inside him, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body. He gripped the sheets tighter, willing himself not to move too much. He wanted to savour this, tried to draw it out as long as possible under Wooyoung's watchful gaze.
“So good, hyung. Go slow, you’re doing so well.” Wooyoung encouraged.
Finally, with a wet plop, the base of the plug was nestled against his entrance, its shaft buried deep within him. His cheeks flushed a dark red at the thought of how lewd he must look. Legs spread wide open and impaled by the toy while Wooyoung watched on with hooded eyes. But there was no denying how good it felt.
Wooyoung stretched out his hand, offering Hongjoong the remote control for the plug. But to his surprise, Hongjoong pushed it away, his eyes meeting Wooyoung's with a look of desperation, of pleading.
"You..." Hongjoong gasped, his voice wrecked and needy. "Wooyoung-ah. I need... I need you to..."
Wooyoung's eyes widened, understanding dawning. Hongjoong wanted him to control it. Wanted to surrender that last bit of control, to put himself entirely in Wooyoung's hands.
It was a heady thought, a dizzying rush of power and responsibility. Wooyoung's hand trembled slightly as he withdrew the remote, his thumb hovering over the buttons.
"Are you sure, hyung?" Wooyoung asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You want me to...?"
"Yes," Hongjoong hissed, his hips bucking slightly, seeking friction, seeking stimulation. "Please, Wooyoung-ah. I need you. I need you to control it. I can't... I can't do it myself. Please." The desperation in Hongjoong's voice, the raw need, sent a jolt straight to Wooyoung's core. His hyung, always so strong, so in control, was pleading with him, begging him to take over.
How could he refuse? How could he deny Hongjoong anything when he was like this, so open, so vulnerable?
"Okay, hyung," Wooyoung breathed, his thumb hovering over the remote. "I'll take care of you." And with that, he pressed down on the lowest setting.
The effect was immediate. Hongjoong's body jerked, a sharp cry tearing from his throat as the plug began to vibrate inside him. His hands scrabbled at the sheets, his head thrashing against the pillow.
"Oh god," he moaned, his voice high and thin. "Oh god, Wooyoung-ah, it's... it's so much. I can't... I can't..."
"Shh, hyung," Wooyoung soothed, his own voice shaking with the effort of restraint. "You can. You're doing so well. Just feel it. Just let go. I'm here. I've got you."
Hongjoong whimpered, his body writhing under the onslaught of sensation. "Wooyoung-ah," he gasped, the name a plea, a prayer. "Wooyoung-ah, please..."
Wooyoung, attuned to every twitch and moan, every hitch of Hongjoong's breath, began to play with the vibration settings. He cycled through the patterns, alternating between steady thrums and pulsing waves, keeping Hongjoong on the edge, never letting him get too close to the precipice.
All the while, his thumb never ceased its soothing motion on Hongjoong's ankle, a constant reminder of his presence, his support. But the more Wooyoung played, the more he teased, the more Hongjoong squirmed. His body twisted on the sheets, his hands grasping at anything they could reach, the pillow, the headboard, his own hair.
And the sounds he made... Wooyoung had never heard anything like it. Moans and whimpers and pleas, a constant stream of incoherent babble interspersed with Wooyoung's name.
"Wooyoung-ah... please... I can't... I need... oh god, oh god, Wooyoung-ah..."
It was music to Wooyoung's ears, a symphony of desperation and pleasure that he never wanted to end. But he knew he couldn't draw it out forever. Hongjoong was close, so close, his body wound tight as a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment. So, with a deep breath, Wooyoung steadied his hand on the remote and pressed the highest setting.
Hongjoong's reaction was instantaneous and explosive. His back arched off the bed, his mouth open in a silent scream as the vibrations rocked through him, pushing him to the very edge of oblivion.
"That's it, hyung," Wooyoung urged, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Let go. I've got you. Just let go."
Hongjoong’s neck strained, a vein standing out as he teetered on the brink, breath caught somewhere between holding on and finally falling apart. And then, suddenly, shockingly, the vibrations stopped. For a moment, there was only silence, a heavy, disbelieving pause. Then Hongjoong let out a sound that was half moan, half sob, his body collapsing back onto the bed.
"No," he whimpered, his voice cracked and desperate. "No, no, no... Wooyoung-ah, please... I was so close, I was so... please..."
Wooyoung stared at the remote in his hand, uncomprehending. What had happened? Why had it...? And then it hit him. The battery. Hongjoong hadn't charged the toy. It had died, right at the crucial moment.
"Hyung," he started, his mind racing for a solution. "Hyung, I'm sorry, the toy... it's..."
But Hongjoong wasn't listening. He was lost in his own desperation, his own frustration, his body still thrumming with unfulfilled need.
"Wooyoung-ah," he pleaded, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "Please, please, I need... I need..."
"Shh, hyung, it's okay," Wooyoung soothed, even as his own heart raced with panic. "We'll figure this out. Just breathe for me, okay?"
He rummaged through the toy box, his hands shaking slightly as he searched for something, anything, that could help. There were other plugs, some dildos, but nothing that seemed quite right, nothing that he thought could satisfy the desperate need he saw in Hongjoong's eyes.
"Hyung," he said gently, "I think we need to take the toy out, okay? It's not going to do any more good right now."
Hongjoong whimpered but nodded, his hands moving to comply. Wooyoung watched, his breath catching, as Hongjoong carefully removed the plug, a soft hiss escaping his lips at the sensation.
"Good, hyung, that's good," Wooyoung praised, even as his mind continued to race. What could he do? How could he help?
His eyes fell on another toy, a sleek, curved vibrator. It wasn't exactly what Hongjoong had been using, but it was something. It could provide stimulation, pleasure.
"Here, hyung," he said, holding it out. "Let's try this one instead."
But Hongjoong batted it away, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "No," he moaned, his voice raw and broken. "No, that's not... that's not what I want."
Wooyoung's brow furrowed in confusion. "Then what, hyung? What do you need?"
Hongjoong shook his head, his words coming out in a jumbled, desperate rush. "I... I feel empty," he sobbed. "Empty and cold and lonely. I don't want a toy. I want... I need..."
He trailed off, but his eyes, wide and pleading, never left Wooyoung's face. And suddenly, with a clarity that stole his breath, Wooyoung understood. Hongjoong didn't want a toy. He wanted a person. He wanted warmth and closeness, and connection.
He wanted Wooyoung.
The realisation hit Wooyoung like a gutpunch, stealing the air from his lungs. Hongjoong wanted him. Not just to guide him, not just to control a toy, but to touch him, to fill him, to make him feel whole.
Wooyoung's mind raced as he processed Hongjoong's unspoken plea. His heart ached with the weight of it, with the realisation of what Hongjoong was asking of him.
It was everything he'd wanted, everything he'd ever dreamed of. To be with Hongjoong, to love him, to make him feel whole. But not like this. Not when Hongjoong was so vulnerable, so emotionally raw.
His eyes drifted to Hongjoong's chest, to where his shirt had ridden up in the throes of his desperation. The fabric was bunched around his armpits, exposing the smooth expanse of his stomach, the dusky pink of one nipple. He looked debauched, wanton, utterly exposed in a way that went beyond the physical.
The sight made Wooyoung's throat go dry, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch, to explore. But it also sent a pang of unease through him.
"Hyung," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Hongjoong, I... I don't know if this is a good idea. You're not... You're not thinking clearly right now."
Hongjoong let out a frustrated sob, his hands clenching in the sheets. "I am," he insisted, his voice raw and desperate. "I know what I want, Wooyoung-ah. I want you. I need you. Please."
He had never heard Hongjoong sound like this, so open, so vulnerable, so needy. It was like a switch had been flipped, transforming the confident, self-assured leader into a man stripped bare, laid raw by his desire.
He looked at Hongjoong, really looked at him. Saw the flush on his cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes were dark and dilated with arousal. And beneath that, the vulnerability, the trust, the raw honesty of his plea.
In that moment, something shifted inside Wooyoung. His reservations, his doubts, his carefully maintained boundaries; they all seemed to melt away in the face of Hongjoong's need. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering between the safety of what was known and the exhilarating unknown of what could be.
Hongjoong's plea echoed in his mind, a siren song calling him to let go, to take the leap. And god, he wanted to. He wanted to give in, to surrender to this moment, to Hongjoong.
His fingers twitched again, this time at the hem of his own shirt. Something held him back, a fear, a reservation that he couldn't quite shake. Leaving his shirt in place felt like a last line of defence, an imaginary boundary he wasn't ready to cross.
Instead, he reached for his trousers with trembling hands. He undid them and pushed them down along with his underwear, his erection springing free, hard and aching.
Hongjoong's eyes locked onto it, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Please," he whispered again. "Wooyoung-ah, please."
Wooyoung's heart raced as he took out a condom, tearing open the wrapper with shaking fingers. He rolled it on, the latex cool against his overheated skin.
With a deep, shuddering breath, he moved closer to Hongjoong, positioning himself between his spread legs. His hands trembled as they came to rest on Hongjoong's thighs, the skin hot and damp beneath his palms.
He paused there, looking down at Hongjoong, at the way his body was splayed out before him, open and ready. It was a sight he'd dreamed of countless times, but the reality of it, the weight of the moment, made his chest constrict with a mixture of desire and trepidation.
Hongjoong looked back at him, his eyes dark and hooded, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. "Wooyoung-ah," he whispered, his voice a plea, a prayer. "Please."
Wooyoung swallowed hard, his grip on Hongjoong's thighs tightening fractionally. "Are you sure?" he asked, one last time, needing to hear it again, needing to be certain.
"I'm sure," he breathed. "I need you, Wooyoung-ah. I need this. Please." Hongjoong looked up at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Don't you want me?" he asked, his voice small and vulnerable, a stark contrast to his earlier desperation.
The question hit Wooyoung, stealing his breath. "Of course I want you," he said fiercely, his hand coming up to cup Hongjoong's cheek. "Hongjoong, I... I've always wanted you."
Hongjoong leaned into the touch, a single tear escaping to roll down his cheek. "Then please," he whispered. "Please, Wooyoung-ah. I need you. I need to feel you. Please."
The raw vulnerability in Hongjoong's voice, the way he pleaded not just for physical closeness but for emotional reassurance, shattered the last of Wooyoung's resistance.
"Okay," he breathed, leaning down to press his forehead against Hongjoong's. "Okay, hyung. I'm here."
With a shaking hand, he reached down to guide himself to Hongjoong's entrance. Hongjoong's breath hitched as he felt Wooyoung at his opening, his body tensing in anticipation.
Wooyoung paused, looking deep into Hongjoong's eyes. "I want you," he said again, needing Hongjoong to understand, to believe him. "I want this. I want you."
Hongjoong nodded, another tear slipping free. "Please," he whispered.
And with that, Wooyoung began to push forward, slowly, carefully.
Hongjoong's body yielded to him, hot and tight, drawing him in inch by torturous inch. Wooyoung moved slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving Hongjoong's face, watching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.
But there was none. Only need, raw and desperate, etched into every line of Hongjoong's features. When Wooyoung was fully seated, he paused, giving Hongjoong time to adjust, to accommodate the intrusion. His hands roamed over Hongjoong's body, caressing his sides, his chest, his face, every touch a reassurance, a promise.
"I've got you," he whispered, his thumb brushing over Hongjoong's cheekbone, wiping away the trail of a tear. "I'm here, hyung. I'm right here."
Hongjoong's eyes fluttered shut, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His hips began to move, small, abortive thrusts that sent sparks of pleasure racing up Wooyoung's spine.
Wooyoung gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to thrust, to take, to claim. This wasn't about him, about his pleasure. This was about Hongjoong, about giving him what he needed.
"That's it, hyung," Wooyoung murmured, his hands never ceasing their gentle exploration of Hongjoong's body. "I'm all yours. I'm here. You're doing so well."
Each word was punctuated with a caress, a brush of fingers over heated skin. Wooyoung traced the lines of Hongjoong's ribs, the dip of his waist, the jut of his hipbones. Every touch was a reassurance, a physical manifestation of his presence, his care.
Hongjoong whimpered, his body trembling under the onslaught of sensation, of emotion. It was almost too much, the feeling of Wooyoung inside him, around him, the words of praise and comfort washing over him.
He'd needed this, needed it with a desperation that scared him. And now, having it, having Wooyoung… It was overwhelming. It was everything.
"Wooyoung-ah," he gasped, his voice breaking on a sob. "I... I..."
"Shh," Wooyoung soothed, one hand following the curve of Hongjoong’s bent leg, travelling all the way down till he was holding firmly around his ankle again. "I know, baby. Let go."
And that was all it took. Those words, that gentle touch, the grounding, the raw, open love in Wooyoung's eyes. Hongjoong came with a cry, his body tensing and shuddering, his release spurting over his stomach. It rocked through him in waves, each one more intense than the last, stealing his breath and his reason.
Through it all, Wooyoung whispered to him. Touched him. Anchored him.
When it was over, when the last tremors had subsided, and Hongjoong lay limp and panting under Wooyoung, Wooyoung pressed a kiss to his forehead.
The tenderness of the gesture, the unspoken emotion behind it, made Wooyoung's throat tighten, his eyes sting. He wanted to say more, to pour out all the love and adoration that was swelling in his chest.
But he couldn't. The words stuck in his throat, tangled on his tongue. So he stayed silent, focusing instead on Hongjoong, on guiding him through the aftershocks of his orgasm. His hands continued their soothing motions, stroking over Hongjoong's sides, his hips, his thighs.
Slowly, gradually, Hongjoong's breathing evened out, his body relaxing into the mattress. His eyes were closed, his face slack with satisfaction and exhaustion.
Wooyoung's own body was still thrumming with need, his arousal a hot, heavy ache between his legs. But he ignored it, pushing it down, locking it away. So, with a deep, shuddering breath, he began to pull out. Slowly, carefully, not wanting to overstimulate Hongjoong's sensitive body. But even with his care, Hongjoong still whimpered at the loss, his brow furrowing, his lips parting on a soft, distressed sound.
Wooyoung's heart clenched. He wanted to soothe, to reassure. But he didn't trust his voice, didn't trust himself not to say too much, to reveal too much. Instead, he pressed another kiss to Hongjoong's forehead, letting his lips linger, hoping the touch would convey what his words could not. Then, with a final, gentle caress to Hongjoong's cheek, he pulled away completely.
The loss of contact, of connection, was almost physically painful. Wooyoung's body cried out for it, for the warmth and closeness of Hongjoong's embrace.
But he denied himself, rolling to the side, putting space between their bodies. He disposed of the condom with shaking hands. His heart was racing, his mind whirling. The gravity of what they'd done, of what had just happened, was starting to sink in. And with it came a wave of emotion: love, fear, uncertainty, hope. It made his eyes burn with unshed tears.
He couldn't let himself dwell on it, couldn't let himself get lost in the maelstrom of his own thoughts and feelings. Not now. Not when Hongjoong needed him. So he focused on the practical, the immediate. He found a soft, worn t-shirt in the drawer, using it to gently clean the evidence of Hongjoong's release from his stomach, his chest. His touch was light, reverent, a silent apology and a promise all in one.
Then he turned his attention to the toys, gathering them up and wrapping them carefully in the t-shirt. They could be dealt with properly in the morning, when the world was less hazy, less charged with emotion.
With that done, he turned back to Hongjoong. His leader looked small, vulnerable, his shirt still rucked up around his chest. With gentle hands, Wooyoung tugged it down, smoothing the fabric over Hongjoong's stomach, his hips.
Then he pulled the duvet over him, tucking it around his shoulders, making sure he was warm, comfortable, safe. He was just about to step away, to retreat to the couch or the floor, when Hongjoong stirred turning on his side paired with a soft, sleepy murmur. "Wooyoung-ah..."
Even in sleep, even lost in dreams, Hongjoong was calling for him. His heart clenched at the sound of his name, at the absence of the affectionate nickname he craved.
He couldn't leave. Couldn't let Hongjoong wake up alone, confused, perhaps even regretful.
He climbed back into the bed. He settled behind Hongjoong, moulding his body to the curve of Hongjoong's back.
He was careful to keep his hips angled away, his still semi-hard arousal a dull, distant throb. It was uncomfortable, bordering on painful, but he ignored it. Slowly, hesitantly, he draped an arm over Hongjoong's waist. It was a loose embrace, a tentative point of contact. It was enough. Hongjoong sighed, his body relaxing, settling more heavily against the mattress.
Hongjoong didn't pull away either. He just... accepted. Accepted Wooyoung's touch, his presence, his warmth. The lack of reciprocation was a dull ache in Wooyoung's chest, a reminder of the distance that still stretched between them, even in this moment of physical closeness.
But exhaustion, both physical and emotional, was finally catching up to him. For once, the universe seemed to take pity on him, and he felt himself slipping towards sleep, his body and mind craving the oblivion of rest. As his eyes fluttered shut, he breathed in the scent of Hongjoong's hair, felt the warmth of his body against his own. And he let himself pretend, just for a moment, that this was real. That the intimacy they had shared tonight was more than just a fleeting, desperate grasp at connection.
Hongjoong woke slowly, his mind struggling to surface from the depths of sleep. The first thing he became aware of was warmth. The warmth of the sheets tangled around his body, the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the warmth of the body pressed against his back.
Wooyoung.
The events of the previous night came rushing back, a kaleidoscope of sensations and emotions. The desperation, the need, the overwhelming pleasure. But more than that, the connection, the sense of being seen, being understood, being…
Loved.
He felt raw. His mind was reeling, trying to process the intensity of what he'd experienced last night. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. The way he'd surrendered, the way he'd let go of all control and let Wooyoung take the lead. It was terrifying. But it was also exhilarating, liberating in a way he couldn't quite describe.
Under Wooyoung's hands, under his words, Hongjoong had come undone. He'd shattered into a million pieces, and Wooyoung had held him through it, had put him back together with gentle touches and whispered praises.
It was overwhelming. It was scary.
His first instinct was to flee, to put distance between himself and the source of this terrifying vulnerability. But then Wooyoung shifted behind him, his arm tightening around Hongjoong's waist, and something else rose up to meet that fear. Something warm and fierce and achingly tender.
He couldn't run from this. So slowly, carefully, he turned in Wooyoung's embrace until they were face to face. Wooyoung was still asleep, but Hongjoong's brow furrowed as he took in his appearance.
Wooyoung looked exhausted. There were shadows under his eyes, a slight furrow between his brows, even in sleep. He looked like he'd been through an ordeal, like he'd poured everything he had into taking care of Hongjoong. Even like this, worn out and depleted, Wooyoung was beautiful. But more than that, he was precious. He was everything.
Hongjoong lifted a hand, his fingers hovering over Wooyoung's cheek. He wanted to smooth away that furrow, to erase any hint of discomfort or strain. He wanted to gather Wooyoung into his arms and hold him, protect him, give back even a fraction of what Wooyoung had given him.
But he didn't. Not yet. First, they needed to talk. First, he needed to find the words to express what was in his heart, to navigate the seismic shift that had occurred between them.
So he waited, feeling the rise and fall of Wooyoung's chest. Wooyoung’s eyelashes fluttered, his brow furrowing slightly as he slowly surfaced from sleep. Hongjoong held his breath, his heart pounding as he waited for Wooyoung to open his eyes.
And then, finally, he did. Those dark, expressive eyes blinked open, hazy and unfocused at first. But as they settled on Hongjoong's face, they widened, a myriad of emotions flickering through their depths.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged truths. Hongjoong could feel the warmth of Wooyoung's skin, could count every eyelash, every freckle.
Wooyoung's arm was still draped over Hongjoong's waist, their bodies tangled together beneath the sheets. As awareness seeped into Wooyoung's eyes, Hongjoong felt him tense, saw the flicker of uncertainty, of fear.
He was waiting, Hongjoong realised. Waiting for Hongjoong to pull away, to retreat, to pretend that last night had never happened. But Hongjoong didn't move. Didn't look away. Instead, he lifted his hand, finally allowing himself to touch. His fingers traced the curve of Wooyoung's cheek, the line of his jaw, feather-light and reverent.
"Wooyoung-ah," he whispered, his voice rough with sleep and emotion. "I... we... we need to talk about last night."
Wooyoung tensed, his eyes widening, but he didn't move. Didn't speak. Just waited, his gaze locked on Hongjoong's, his breath shallow and quick.
Hongjoong took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, his courage. "First... thank you. For taking care of me. For being there. I don't know what I would have done without you."
Wooyoung's lips parted, a soft, shaky exhale escaping him.
Hongjoong forged ahead, determined to get the words out, to make Wooyoung understand. "I remember everything. Every touch, every word. I was there, I was present, I wanted it. Wanted you."
A flush crept up Wooyoung's neck, his cheeks pinking. But he still didn't speak, didn't move. Just listened, his gaze never leaving Hongjoong's face.
"But... something happened to me. Something I've never felt before. It was like... like I was floating. Like I was outside of myself, but also more in my body than I've ever been. It was intense, overwhelming, almost scary."
Hongjoong felt Wooyoung's hand twitch where it rested on his waist, a tiny, aborted movement. Like he wanted to pull Hongjoong closer to comfort him, but wasn't sure if he was allowed to. Hongjoong's heart clenched. He lifted his hand, cupping Wooyoung's cheek, his thumb stroking over the soft skin. "But you were there. You held me, anchored me. Made me feel safe."
Wooyoung's eyes were glistening now, tears clinging to his lashes. His lips trembled, but he pressed them together, holding back the tide of emotion. Hongjoong took another breath, his chest tight, his heart pounding. "I don't know what it was. What it means. But I know... I know that it was because of you. And that... that scares me."
Hongjoong's brow furrowed as he watched the tear slide down Wooyoung's cheek. His thumb chased after it, wiping it away with a gentleness that belied the pounding of his heart.
"Wooyoung-ah," he murmured, concern lacing his voice. "Why... why are you crying?"
Wooyoung blinked rapidly, trying to stem the flow of tears. His lips trembled as he drew in a shaky breath, his gaze locked on Hongjoong's.
"I... I think I'm relieved," he whispered, his voice raw and thick with emotion. "I was so scared... scared that you would push me away. That you would regret what happened. That... that I had ruined everything."
Hongjoong's heart clenched at the raw, pained emotion in Wooyoung's voice.
"Wooyoung-ah," he said softly, his thumb still stroking over the damp skin of Wooyoung's cheek. "You didn't ruin anything. You didn't force yourself on me, if that's what you're thinking."
Wooyoung's eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth. It was clear that Hongjoong had hit the nail on the head, had voiced the fear that Wooyoung couldn't bring himself to say.
"I wasn't sure," Wooyoung whispered, his voice small and unsure. "You were so vulnerable. And I was so caught up in my own feelings, my own wants. I was afraid that I took advantage."
"No, Wooyoung-ah. No. You didn't take advantage. You gave me what I needed. What I wanted in a way I could never have asked for. And I'm sorry that I put you in that position. That I was so selfish, so caught up in my own needs that I didn't think about how it would affect you. I couldn’t think of anything else but me."
Wooyoung's brow furrowed, confusion and surprise flitting across his features. "Hyung, no. You weren't selfish. You were perfect. I lead you there. You deserve everything. If it makes you feel good. Did it make you feel good?"
Hongjoong blinked, a flush rising to his cheeks at the directness of the question. But he didn't look away, didn't shy away from the intensity of Wooyoung's gaze.
"You did," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "You made me feel things I've never felt before. Good things. Intense things."
Wooyoung's expression softened, understanding and empathy shining in his eyes. His hand tightened on Hongjoong's, a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"Tell me," he urged softly. "Tell me how you feel, hyung. I want to understand. I want to help, if I can."
Hongjoong took a deep breath, trying to find the words to describe the tumult of emotions swirling inside him.
"I feel raw. Exposed. Like you've seen a part of me that no one else has ever seen. And that's that's scary. But it's also wonderful. Because it's you. Because I trust you more than anyone."
Wooyoung's breath hitched, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Hyung," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I feel the same way. Last night, it was the most intimate, the most connected I've ever felt to another person. To you."
Hongjoong's heart swelled, a warm, tender ache blooming in his chest. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Wooyoung's, their noses brushing, their breaths mingling.
"I don't know what it means," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what we are, now. But I know that I care for you, Wooyoung-ah. Deeply. And I want to figure it out. Slowly."
Wooyoung's brow furrowed, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "Slowly," he repeated, his voice soft, questioning. "What does that mean, hyung? How do we...?"
Before Hongjoong could answer, a knock sounded at the door.
"Hyung? Wooyoung-ah?" Jongho's voice called, calm but insistent. "We have to leave soon. Manager-hyung is already getting the van ready."
Hongjoong's eyes were wide and panicked as he stared at the door, waiting for it to open. But it didn't. "You guys have about 20 minutes. I'll wait downstairs."
Wooyoung reacted instantly, squeezing Hongjoong's hand before calling out, "We're up, Jongho-yah! We'll be out in a few minutes!"
"Okay, hurry up!" Jongho replied, his footsteps already receding down the hall and the front door closing.
Wooyoung turned back to Hongjoong, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "Relax, hyung," he teased, his voice low and playful. "Don't let all my hard work from last night go to waste."
He punctuated the words with a wink, and despite the flush that rose to his cheeks, Hongjoong couldn't help but laugh. "Yah!" he scolded, swatting at Wooyoung's arm. "Don't be crude. We don’t have time for that." But there was no real heat in his words, and the smile that lingered on his lips was fond, affectionate.
They reluctantly disentangled themselves, climbing out of bed. As Hongjoong rummaged through his drawer to find his outfit for the day, Wooyoung's voice drew his attention.
"Hyung," he said, pointing to the t-shirt crumpled on the floor. "I hid the evidence in there. You might want to, uh, clean it later."
Hongjoong followed his gaze, his cheeks heating as he remembered the intensity of the previous night, the way he had let go, the way Wooyoung had taken care of him, in every sense of the word.
"Thanks," he mumbled, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and tugging them on. "I'll take care of it."
“We need a shower, hyung, do you want to go first?” Wooyoung asked.
“You go first. I need a moment.” Hongjoong replied.
“Okay, I’ll be quick.”
But before he could leave, Hongjoong caught his wrist, his fingers inadvertently pressing into the bruise he had left there the night before. The slight ache sent a shiver through Wooyoung.
"Wooyoung-ah," he said softly. His eyes fell on Wooyoung's wrist, a vivid reminder of the intensity of their passion, of the way he had lost control in the heat of the moment. "About taking it slow. I..."
Wooyoung turned, his expression soft, understanding. "It means we don't rush into anything," he said, echoing Hongjoong's words from earlier. "We spend time together, we talk, we figure out what this is."
Hongjoong nodded, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "And we're honest with each other. About what we're feeling, what we need."
"Always, hyung," Wooyoung promised, his hand coming up to cup Hongjoong's cheek. But then, a mischievous glint entered his eye. "Though, I have to say, it pains me to be so mean so early in the morning, especially to such a pretty face."
Hongjoong's eyes widened, a startled laugh escaping him. "Yah, what are you...?"
But before he could finish, Wooyoung leaned in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to Hongjoong's cheek. "You look like a hot mess, you really need that shower," he teased, his voice light and lilting.
And then he was gone, darting out of the room with a laugh and a call of "Hurry up, hyung! We don't have time to waste!"