Work Text:
Warm light from the living room bleeds under the door, Sakuya and Ryo’s familiar echoing of noise following. They came home from practice together, promising to clean up and make their way to the other dorm later, although Sion is pretty sure neither of them have made an attempt to get ready. If he wasn’t currently sprawled across his bed, half-naked with his phone two inches away from his face, he’d tell them off. Alas, something more important captured his attention the second he lay down, and Sion has this problem where he can’t stop himself, like, ever.
Never once has he cared about what their color palettes are, but here he is, analyzing their video like it's his first time he's heard of it. Which, obviously isn't the case. He's on the screen. He and Yushi are on the screen and he remembers filming this, remembers being so giddy with the concept that he set a reminder on his phone for when the video would come out, just so he could experience it again. He'd love to tell himself it's to keep up with what's trending, but he’s only five minutes in and he’s paused no less than fifty times to zoom in on Yushi’s face. And then stare a little too hard at the specific face he’s making in return, because where Yushi is, Sion isn’t far behind.
Yushi just looks so good. This was one of their favorite things to film, Yushi coming out of the recording in such a chipper mood he’d followed Sion home unprompted and made out with him in the shower until Sakuya started pounding on the door. Fond memories all around. And Sion’s hand may be resting low on his stomach, but he isn’t doing anything bad, seriously. His skin is hot from the water, smooth and silky, and it’s just comforting to touch. Feels a little like being pleasantly buzzed after a drink or two, and wanting to stick his tingling fingers under Yushi’s shirt so he doesn’t float away.
In the video Yushi grins, whiskers dimpling his cheeks, and Sion giggles just like he did the first, second, third time. Outloud and barely covered by the sound coming through the speakers, warmth flooding his face as he hastily turns the volume up. He is not getting caught like this. Sion knows the light scratches across his happy trail is merely a need for tactility while he… watches himself watching Yushi… but being walked in on would totally ruin the mood. Sion doesn’t want to stop.
At this point, his crush is so deep-rooted he can’t even blink without wondering what he missed in the millisecond he wasn’t staring at Yushi. All he knows is the desire to be wrapped around him all the time, to hear every thought, to see every smile—god. It’s so bad. Sion is so down bad it’s making him dumb. He’s glad that Yushi had such a good time filming, evidenced by the fact there’s barely been a minute where his teeth aren’t on display, but video-Sion has been stuck on the other side of the room this whole time, and hasn’t witnessed any of them. Stupidly, he’s, like, sorry for past-him. Yushi is literally a few floors away, where Sion will get to do everything he holds back in public—and yet he's frozen in place watching the screen, waiting for Yushi to peer up at him through his glasses. Waiting for… Yushi to catch him…? Catch him staring? Maybe. Sion just wants to know what his expression does when it feels like his heart is thundering through his chest. When he’s fighting every urge to cross the gap and tell Yushi he’d do anything he ever asks as long as he never stops looking back.
An odd mix of emotions. Sion might be a little pent-up.
Observing their interactions through this lens feels intimate, private in a way that has goosebumps rippling. And he shouldn’t—there’s no time, and Yushi didn’t exactly agree to being so blatantly perved on. But Sion’s hand creeps lower, fingers dipping under his waistband where he’s already half-hard.
The slow thrum of pleasure flutters up his spine as his cock fills out at the touch. Curbing his impulses has never been his strong suit; always so sensitive, so eager to feel good, especially when it’s been a hot minute since he’s done anything other than a perfunctory jack-off in the shower. He doesn’t watch porn because he has Yushi and he doesn’t often get off alone because he has Yushi, and these things still run true now, but— It’s Yushi on his screen. Beautiful and out of reach, a face impossible to become desensitized to, even after all this time. Not even the sweetest desserts have his teeth aching like this, and Sion doesn’t gorge himself on anything like he does his boyfriend. Fancams, photoshoots, fucking whatever—it’s his worst vice, and the most of addicting of them all. He wants to get off and he wants to look at Yushi while he does it and he wants to come knowing he’s the only person who doesn’t have to fantasize, because he has it. He has Yushi.
Not bothering to pull his sweatpants down, he takes himself in hand, pressing his dry heel against the length—a slight retribution for the distasteful act. Even then, it still feels good. The harsh rub of his palm against his sensitive cock could be mistaken for Yushi’s if he closed his eyes. Small hands with permanent callouses, and a penchant for seeing how far Sion can be pushed till he complains.
A sharp inhale cuts through the air as he squeezes, running his thumb up underneath the head. Sometimes Yushi does just this, sticks his hand down Sion’s pants and holds him till he decides if he wants to have sex. Most times the answer is yes, yes he wants Sion to fuck him into the bed and take care of him and then fuck him some more. Yes he wants Sion to call him a brat and an angel in the same breath and smother him with his body weight and grip his waist with sweaty palms. It’s not hard to discern between the Yushi he gets and the Yushi the world sees, because Yushi in the video—Yushi with those stupidly cute glasses and a ridiculous grin plastered on his face—Sion gets him and all the taunting remarks he bites back. Most notably the one that says, You’re so fucking obvious.
The glide is easier, cock leaking steadily thanks to his restless imagination and the still-image of Yushi on screen, laughing at something Sion said. He’s close, back arching as his strokes speed up, dick catching on his sweatpants every time he gets a bit too eager. If Yushi was here he’d be fully naked. If Yushi was here he’d tell Sion off, probably, for being late to dinner because he’s too busy fantasizing about fucking him when he could really be fucking him. If Yushi was here—
The unmistakable noise of someone knocking at his door sends him careening back to reality in a jarring beat. Pure embarrassment hits him in a cold wave, hand tearing out of his pants like it’s been burned. Fucking fuck, what the fuck.
Sion’s ribs hurt. The pleasure being ripped away so quickly makes his head spin, and he has to blink to defog his eyes.
Someone knocks again, quieter this time, lazier like a flat palm against the door, and Sion’s heart upticks some more. He recognizes that move.
Hastily, he wipes his hand against the sheets, attempting to situate himself into a more innocent position. He’s forgotten how to act casual. His brain’s fried, sue him, he hates being caught off guard. The knocks were merely a formality; Sion has… less than five seconds probably, before the door swings open, and he’s dithering. The blanket is too far away and the thin material of his sweatpants does little to hide how hard he still is, just tight and pressing everywhere he’s sensitive. All he has to cover himself is a fucking cushion, and that’s about as obvious as it gets, but like, what choice does he have?
The handle turns the second he shoves it over his crotch. If Sion wasn’t impossibly flustered right now, he’d be impressed with his timing.
Yushi stands in the doorway, almost immediately glancing at Sion's lap. Fuck.
“Ushi,” Sion says, praying the interaction is short. “You guys ready?”
He nods. His fingers flex on the handle, revealing a suspiciously quiet, empty living room. Sion feels very exposed all of a sudden. “Yes. Showered. Gonna order dinner soon.”
“What are we eating?” Small talk is not his forte on the best of days. When his dick is still hard and the cause of it is just standing there, watching him—Sion’s tongue is fat and useless in his mouth, brain not faring much better.
“Riku wants chicken.”
It’s brief in the way most conversations are with Yushi. But Sion’s breaths are still shaky and Yushi hasn’t shut the door. Anyone could walk past and see. Yushi doesn’t usually like anyone seeing. So—and Sion is trying really hard to revert his brain back from the mush it melted into—Yushi must know nobody is here. And if nobody is here and Yushi is staring at Sion’s bare chest like he could make out the shape of his heart if he tried hard enough, well. Sion might have been found out.
“Cool.” His phone burns a brand into his chest, glued to his clammy skin. He doesn’t remember turning it off and if he moves it might unpause, which would be the cherry on top of this already shameful situation. A plea is stuck in his throat, a mash of please leave now and come kiss me lodged in his larynx. “Are you…”
Yushi raises an eyebrow, the first change in expression yet. Sion shifts uncomfortably. “Hmm?”
“Do you want chicken?”
Stupid. He’s making it worse for himself.
“Sure,” Yushi says. Then, without asking, steps inside. Yes, Sion thinks. But also: oh no.
The door clicks quietly shut. Yushi moves with grace, always, pretty legs on display under his shorts as he leans against it. He looks tall, like this. Looking down on Sion, perfectly composed. It’s not their usual. Sion despises Yushi’s platformed shoes for a reason, spends most of his time trying to wind Yushi up for a reason. He likes getting to pin his boyfriend down and lick the complaints straight out of his mouth. But this is good too.
Yushi’s tongue traces his bottom lip. “What are you watching?”
“Nothing,” Sion replies, just to wince and immediately backtrack. “The new video. The color analysis one.”
Yushi hums again, dragging his scrutinizing gaze over Sion's body. Propped up only by the pillows, Sion can feel the sweat beading at his hairline, every minute twitch of his abs as the silence prolongs and Yushi just stares. He shivers. Yushi knows and he’s going to drag this out and Sion cannot sit still because he’s in trouble and waiting makes him nervous.
Lazy and cat-like, Yushi pushes off the door. Sion clutches the cushion tighter, patting the empty spot next to him. A feeble attempt at reclaiming some control, as if Yushi would ever bother asking permission to be in his space. His knee sinks into the mattress, weight shifting as he flops down, landing entirely on Sion’s side, pressed right up against his shoulder. Their ankles bump together, reminding Sion once again he is practically naked. Yushi seems to be staring at their feet.
“How long is the video?”
“...An hour. I think.”
“That long, huh.”
Yushi’s voice is as sweet as ever, a melodic trap for Sion to fall into. Before he can even think about reacting, a nimble hand grabs his phone and holds it in front of their faces, presenting it like evidence. Which— Well, considering the screen hasn’t dimmed at all, still open on the video, the red bar at the bottom barely even a quarter of the way full—it is. Fuck his stupid life.
“How come you’re only ten minutes in then?”
Sion gawps. It’s a little humbling Yushi didn’t assume Sion had only just started watching. Either he knows Sion far too well, or he’s been standing outside his door listening to him rewind every five seconds. He isn’t sure which is least embarrassing. “I’m just checking we’re being normal.”
“Normal,” Yushi echoes, lips quirking in amusement. “Are we?”
Sion couldn’t answer that even if he wanted to. He only knows what occurred that day because he lived it, and considering he’d been ogling Yushi’s nerdy glasses this whole time and not much else, even that recollection is foggy.
He cranes his neck to the side to see Yushi properly. Makeup-free, hair damp and trickling down his neck. He should kick him out, tell him to dry it first. “I enjoyed being your teammate,” he says, instead of doing any of that. “You were really good at this.”
Yushi tilts his head coyly. A bead of water makes a path along his cheek, and Sion fights the rabid urge to trace it with his tongue. “I’m pretty sure we only won because Sakuya cheated.”
“Ah, maybe.” He hasn’t made it that far into the video yet, and it wasn’t the point he was trying to make, but Yushi is indulging his attempt at diversion. Or maybe Sion is indulging Yushi. He’s not so sure. “But, really, a win’s a win. Sakuya was the weak link, anyway. He always gets too focused on Ryo.”
Yushi nods. “Who was the weak link in ours?”
“Nobody,” he scoffs. “Our teams are always perfect.”
A slow smile appears on Yushi’s face, and he glances back at the cushion on his lap before leaning in closer. Their shoulders squish together, the hard jut of bone pressing against Sion’s bicep, making him realize if he’d answered differently Yushi most definitely would have left him hanging. He’s headstrong about the silliest things sometimes—Sion is too endeared to rebuke almost cock-blocking himself.
“Cute,” Yushi mumbles, the compliment making Sion’s ears burn. “Should we finish watching it?”
Ah. Dinner, though. And Sion’s boner that has barely waned at all. But also: Yushi’s round cheeks, and the gentle nudge of their bare ankles as he curls into him.
“Just a bit more,” Sion offers. “You need to eat.” They can sit under the pretense of vanity watching if it’ll make him happy. Sion won’t bother to assume he can guess Yushi’s plans, his version of foreplay is hard to follow. Back when they first started seeing each other, Yushi could barely kiss him unless Sion held his hand the whole way through, but now… he’s kind of evil, actually.
His spare hand rests on the cushion, near where Sion is clutching for dear life, a quiet reminder that he knows, and he starts the video.
Sion doesn’t know how long they sit there. Every time one of them appears on screen his fingers dig harder into the cushion, Yushi copying him despite never looking away from the phone. Steady breaths tickle his neck, and the soft material of Yushi’s t-shirt bunches around his waist as Sion tries to move closer, fuse them together. Unearthing all of Yushi would be a difficult task, probably, would require Sion to crawl inside his skin and sift through every memory, every experience—but the man is as transparent as he is guarded. Sometimes his emotions are written so clearly over his face it almost pains Sion, suddenly only able to see the naive, baby-faced trainee who clung to him like glue and happily let Sion spend himself dry doting on him. Their design will never change—Sion adores Yushi like he’s part of him—but they’re getting older, and they’re growing. Yushi looks after him and Yushi kisses him first and Yushi teases and bites and he does it all under the purple hue lighting his room, so Sion knows it’s solely his.
He bites his tongue, trying to hold back the plea for attention threatening to spill out. His leg twitches. Normally the movement would make Yushi check on him, but evidently he's very set on this.
In the video, Sion laughs, falling to the floor with the force of it. Yushi rewinds instantly, the noise filling the still room once more.
“Good, good, so good,” Yushi murmurs, hand inching over to cover Sion’s. “It was a fun day. The energy…” He trails off, mouth parted as if the words suddenly disappeared from his brain. Sion had been transfixed with the scar dimpling his cheek, so when Yushi, almost imperceptibly, glances over, he meets his gaze head on.
“...Was good?” Sion says, just as quietly. He would never claim to be able to finish his sentences—Sion is pretty sure even Yushi doesn’t know what he’ll say half the time—but there’s something romantic about trying anyway. Their skin burns hot against each other, soft puffs of breath dancing over his lips; so close they could kiss. It wouldn't take much at all, actually. If Sion just leant in a bit more, mouth finding any inch of Yushi he can get. He's be happy to kiss pure cotton, if Yushi so wanted. “We should do more things like this. Go out more, spend time together. Rent a laser-tag place out, or… go rollerskating, or something. When we’re less busy. Would you like that?”
Yushi blinks. Then, all at once, he drags himself out of his daze, tucking his chin back so fast Sion chases him instinctively. He huffs, and Yushi pinches the thin skin on the back of his hand, pressing down heavily on the pillow.
“Only if we played in teams.”
“You just have to make everything a competition.”
“So do you. You’re worse.”
Sion barks out a laugh. “Not true.” It is. But Yushi is squinting disapprovingly and— Yeah, fuck, he’s pushing the cushion down on Sion’s crotch, a tauntingly light amount of pressure. It takes a mammoth effort to stay put. “You’re only asking so you get first dibs on picking me, right?”
Yushi tuts. “You wish. I’d pick Sakuya first. He’s faster.”
“Ohh, Ushi-ya,” Sion whines, nosing into his shoulder. “Straight to the heart. So mean.”
The fuss succeeds in making Yushi giggle, his ears blooming a pretty shade of pink that has Sion’s heart doing funny pitter-patters.
“You spent most of your time running around with Daeyoung upstairs,” Yushi prods, waggling the phone. “I was doing all the work. All it takes is someone to challenge you and you forget the bigger picture.”
Sion is being read to filth. “Cute,” he whispers, because it’s just them in here, so the insult only sounds fond. “Too cute, Ushi. Like you don’t have weaknesses.”
Yushi glares. He presses down again and Sion hisses.
“I don’t.”
Sion doesn’t dignify that with a reply. Just tears his hand away and digs his fingers into the fleshy bit between Yushi’s ribs, wiggling until squeals ring in his ears. Vaguely, he acknowledges the weight on his lap disappearing, but he’s already crawling on top of Yushi, pinning his slim wrists to the bed, losing the phone in the process.
“Okay, okay! I do, I do!” Yushi squirms underneath him. “Sorry, sorry.”
Heat pulses low in Sion’s belly. “That’s what I thought. Tell me I’m right, Ushi. Tell hyung you’re just as bad.”
He wants to feel smug at getting the upper hand, but Yushi’s eyes are all fire, lips twitching as he fights off a smirk, and Sion is all too aware he can see straight through him. Cockiness be damned.
“Nobody’s as bad as you, hyung.”
God. Sion is going to die.
“What’s that, baby?”
Yushi shrugs with an off-handed jerk of his shoulders. “You’re predictable. You’re bad at making decisions,” he pauses, giving Sion a slow once-over. “You get distracted.”
Whatever composure Sion thinks he has is gone in a second, desperation swallowing him whole. Ostensibly the one in control, and yet Yushi eclipses him. Taunts spilling out so easily—he might as well not be trapped underneath Sion’s weight at all. Like he knows that he can say anything, do anything, and Sion would still kiss him dead on the mouth and call him baby till Yushi can’t stand it anymore.
His leg slips between Yushi’s open ones. He’s hard too. It wouldn’t take much for this, either. Sion just has to rock down a bit, tense his thigh so Yushi has something solid to grind against, so he misses Sion doing the same against his bony hip. He could. Yushi is being mean, but he wouldn’t mind. If it was what Sion needed, he’d let himself be flipped over and fucked into the mattress.
Sion squeezes his eyes shut, lowering his body till their chests touch. Yushi inhales deeply, the quiet noise looping in Sion’s head. How unfair.
With a sigh, he slumps onto his side, hands curling into Yushi’s stretched-out collar, tugging him into the same position. They settle on the same pillow, an understanding passing through them both as they take each other in. It really has been a while since they’ve done this. Slept together, yeah, but also not been in a rush while doing so. He wants to memorise every inch of Yushi, down to the freckles that glisten under his skincare, down to the crease in his cheek where his face is squished against the pillow. Adorable and so comfortable, here in Sion’s bed, in Sion’s arms.
A lazy hand smooths down the curve of his side, rubbing gentle circles into the skin above his sweatpants. Yushi likes doing what he wants, and Sion has ceded so easily to him. His breath hitches as Yushi makes his way back up, caressing every ridge of his abs without hesitation, lingering purposefully when Sion wets his lips, parched like he’s just run a mile. A sudden burst of affection bubbles in his chest, and he has to swallow the pathetic giggle that threatens to surface, lest it come out all high-pitched and delirious.
He takes Yushi’s soft cheeks between his palms and squeezes.
“See,” Yushi’s voice comes out garbled. “Distracted. What are you doing?”
Sion thumbs over his jutted-out bottom lip, tugging till his gums are exposed. “Holding you.”
“Mm. Why?”
“Yushi,” Sion laughs, easing up his possessive grip. The hands circling his waist are clammy. Being addicted to anything in this life is terrifying, but Yushi’s sweat sinks into his pores and his fingertips fit perfectly in the divots of his skin. Yushi is always with him, even when they’re worlds apart; an ocean means nothing to Sion, who would wade through the deepest waters if Yushi asked. “Hyung just wants to kiss his baby, is that so wrong? Missed you so much. You look so fucking good right now—” the image of what set him off in the first place appears in his head like a revelation, and Sion groans helplessly. “Looked so pretty in those glasses, baby, that was— I couldn’t stop staring at you the whole time. Just kept wishing you’d look at me, and then we got put on the same team,” it’s all spilling out now—rambling like he’s been forced to sit in silence, except Yushi hadn’t actually stopped him from doing anything, Sion simply fawns over his boyfriend too much to deny him the pleasure of teasing him. “We worked well together though, right, Ushi? You had fun, right baby?”
The gleam in Yushi’s eyes is pure mischief. “Should I pick hyung? Next time, is that what you want? What if Riku wanted you?”
“Wouldn’t care,” Sion mumbles, “I’m on your team.”
Yushi’s fingers press into the dimples on his back. “Say it.”
How dizzyingly familiar this is. Yushi can call him predictable all he wants, but he’s got a bad habit of waiting till Sion confesses to make a move. As if Sion, who only knows himself because Yushi does, could ever fall out of love with him.
“I’m all yours,” Sion says, powering through another horribly embarrassing act of devotion to witness the beautifully smug smile Yushi flashes at the words. All teeth, all satisfaction at getting Sion to crack. Sion has said much worse, and much nicer, but Yushi lives for this shit.
Everything about him is stupidly endearing. Especially how fast he is to close the gap, now the magic words have been uttered, drawn to Sion like a magnet.
Yushi kisses like he always does. Messy, somehow, despite all the practice. Sion thinks it’s because he can’t bite back the giggles when their noses bump, and Yushi secretly likes making him laugh. He’d never ask—Yushi would stop instantly at the notion of being so easy to read and Sion wouldn’t trade his enthusiasm for anything. Would welcome a chipped tooth and an aching nose bridge, in fact, if it meant he gets to taste the minty sweetness of toothpaste lingering around Yushi’s molars and feel the soft palate of his mouth slick with saliva around his tongue. Anything to feel Yushi’s greedy hands slide under his sweatpants to knead his ass, ignoring every aborted thrust of Sion’s hips.
Sion moans against Yushi’s mouth, fingers sweeping across his cheekbones to his ears.
“Don’t tease,” Yushi warns, smearing wet kisses down his jaw. They’re not supposed to leave marks, but Sion suspects he’ll be wearing a turtleneck tomorrow.
“Touch me then.”
“What am I doing, if not touching you?”
Brat. Sion tugs the curling hair at the nape of his neck. “Riling me up.”
“You did that yourself. I know you were getting yourself off. I listened.”
Sion had figured as much. Their voyeuristic tendencies are one and the same, so he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on, but, “You could’ve joined me.”
“Eh.” Yushi licks his throat, poorly hiding a smile. “You were doing fine on your own. I only came in to see what you were watching.”
It’s like his personal mission in life is to needle Sion till his brain fries from the endorphin overload. Just saying shit to get a rise out of him, like Sion has ever been able to do anything but cheese so hard his cheeks ache in return. The snicker tumbles out before he can stop it, morphing into a pained groan when Yushi bites down particularly harshly. Like it’s his fault Yushi’s fucking adorable. Whatever. Sion pulls his hair again, and he peppers nipping kisses over the spot in a skewed version of an apology. His teeth are a fucking hazard. Sion often feels like a child that keeps sticking its fingers in a cat’s mouth, only to be shocked when their fangs chomp down. Letting Yushi in while he’s half-naked and visibly pent-up was never going to end in anything other than bruises all over his body.
Sion cups the back of his head, trying to steal another kiss. A losing battle, when Yushi drags further down, mouth latching near the swell of his pec, the rapid fluttering of his heart, urging Sion onto his back so he can taste everywhere. Greedy, greedy, greedy.
“Is that the only reason?” Sion asks.
“No.” The weight of him settles on Sion’s stomach, fingers circling smearing residual spit into his chest. “Wanted to see you too.”
Pure ecstasy bottled up and shot into his bloodstream. Sion laughs, utterly delighted. “Ushi, you’re so cute. You can just just say it, y’know.” His fingers dip under the hem of Yushi’s shorts, riding high on his legs where he’s warmest. “Hyung missed you so much. Having you in my bed, bitching in my face… it’s the same for you, hmm?”
“You talk too much.” The flush on his cheekbones is the shade of strawberries. He kneels up and pinches Sion’s nipple, so when his hips inevitably jerk he meets only air. “Should make you blow me instead.”
Sion shivers. Heat licks at his core, the position providing no relief for his aching erection, dick sticky against too many layers of cotton—it’s starting to hurt, now. He wants Yushi to fuck his throat, wants Yushi to scooch back an inch and let him rut against his ass. Wants to be shut up, honestly, because he can feel the onslaught of whining about to spill out of him and it never gets any less embarrassing. “I can suck you off. Sit on my face, baby, and I’ll suck you off.” Sion pants, fingers flexing helplessly around his thighs. “Ushi, baby— Really, you don’t even have to do anything, just sit there and look pretty. Hyung can come like this, just need a kiss. Please. Please, Yushi. Hyung just wants to kiss you.”
Nobody else gets him like this. Yushi has wormed his way into Sion's brain, reached deep past the composure he knows he has, and twisted it sideways so even the slightest pleased glint in Yushi's eyes has Sion feverish.
Yushi bites his lip. "Shh," he soothes, and pushes his tongue into Sion's mouth before he can complain.
Sion sinks into the mattress with a keen moan; Yushi echoes it happily, pushing his sweaty bangs from his forehead. It’s a frantic kiss, mostly on Sion’s end. Even when Yushi starts fumbling in the bedside table he refuses to leave his skin, mouthing down the strong line of his jaw and mumbling about how good he tastes. Like sweat and soap and the faint scent of Sion’s own pillow mist—too tempting to not leave a mark there.
Once Sion’s satisfied with the coupling bruise, Yushi pecks his nose, sitting up with his arms hidden behind his back. Sion makes an inelegant noise, reaching out with grabby hands. “Don’t go,” he begs.
Yushi’s head tilts in amused disbelief. “I’m right here.”
“Stopped kissing me though,” Sion pouts. “Come back, I told you you didn’t need to—” he tries to lean up, but Yushi pulls away. “We can stay like this. Just want your mouth, baby.”
Yushi huffs. “I’m trying to give it to you. Why can you jerk off to a video of me, but not let me make you come? Is the real thing not good enough?”
The bridge of his nose aches. “Yushi,” he grumbles petulantly. Then. “...You wanna suck me off?”
Yushi grins, all three million teeth. “Someone needs to make a decision. Hyung can’t, can he?”
God, he’s so mean. Sion really lets him get away with too much. He’s half-convinced this has been plotted from the very beginning, from months ago when they filmed the stupid video in the first place. It wouldn’t surprise him if Yushi was clairvoyant. Sure, in the midst of pummeling each other with paintballs, Yushi glimpsed into the future and saw him jerking off like a loser, and decided to enact revenge by teasing him till he exploded. But maybe that’s not giving him enough credit. Sion is always looking at Yushi. He notices when Yushi looks back.
Sensing Sion’s pitiful state, Yushi squeezes his thighs around his stomach soothingly. “Just let me take care of you, hyung. It’ll be good.” He rocks back, ass grazing the bulge in Sion’s pants. Sion moans, and Yushi repeats the motion, before shuffling down between his legs. Sion presses his head so hard into the mattress a spring digs into his skull.
“Put these on for me?” Yushi says, Sion blindly accepting whatever's just been shoved into his hand. He’s a wet fucking dream. And he’s—
Sion’s head whips up.
“Yushi.”
“Mhm.”
“...Are these my glasses?”
There’s no other word for it: Yushi is insane. He’s insane and Sion is going to have a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-three. The picture of innocence as he blinks up at Sion; chin resting on his thigh, crimson ears peeking through the mess of hair.
“Yeah. They’ll suit me, right? Even if they’re yours?”
Mean, mean, mean. Sion groans. “Ushi…” his hands shake as he slides the thin frames on, carefully so they don’t dent his nose. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
He really does look so pretty. Sion is never going to be normal about these nerdy concepts again. Especially now he knows what Yushi looks like yanking his sweatpants down, pupils blown as warm air hits his cock, just steadied by Yushi’s small hand. He’s been in control this whole time, but he always looks wrecked. Like Sion has done anything more than lie down and take what he’s given.
“Yeah,” Yushi admits, stroking him with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Watch me?” And how can Sion deny him anything when he asks so sweetly?
With little preamble, Yushi licks a long stripe up the side of his dick. Already miles past merely turned-on, the sudden touch has his abs tensing like he’s about to shoot off right there and then. The whimper torn out of his throat echoes like it’s coming through a speaker.
Uncaring, or simply aware Sion will hold out just for him, Yushi swallows him down, gaze strong. Mouth stretched wide around Sion’s cock like it’s the only place it should ever be, an agonizing flood of pleasure punches him in the gut. Red raw, inside and out, and Yushi just feels so good. So hot inside, so wet. He barely fits, the head of his dick bulging against his cheek, an obscene image that makes Sion writhe helplessly. He knows better than to push, but god, he’s not gonna last, with Yushi making a meal of it, tongue flicking across the intrusion like he can’t decide where to start.
“Fuck, Yushi—” He grips Yushi’s frazzled hair like a lifeline, teeth digging into his swollen lip to fight off the impending orgasm. He’s too close and he needs a second but each moan only spurs Yushi on, gagging himself on Sion’s cock. “Baby, slow down—”
The words fall on deaf ears. Yushi doesn’t wait for his food to cool just like he doesn’t wait for Sion to stop squirming before he tries to deepthroat him. Both end up with his eyes watering and saliva pooling at the back of his throat, but Yushi has never cared. He just goes for another taste, swallows more down till he has to pull away to cough.
Drool and pre-come bubbles at the corner of his mouth, and when Yushi wipes his chin with the back of his hand it smears across his cheek. Sion’s glasses lay crooked on his nose, red-rimmed eyes framed like a work of art. It’s fascinating, how eager Yushi is every time—how when Sion insists they save their throats so they can actually do their job, Yushi glares like he’s said something despicable. Maybe it’s the waiting that gets him so crazy about it. Yushi has never been very patient.
The brief respite doesn’t help at all. Every hiccuping breath has Sion’s hips rolling involuntarily, sinful noises too much for his poor nervous system; practically fucking against Yushi’s cheek, debauching his pink skin, glistening in the low light like makeup. Making a mess of him after his half-assed attempt at cleaning up. It’s dirty. Worse, nastier, grosser, when Yushi chases him, mouthing down the length of his dick, whatever he can reach with Sion’s shaky thrusts.
“Yushi, Yushi.” His voice is thready like he’s the one choking on a dick. If Yushi were to say his name back, Sion is sure he’d pass out. “Yushi,” he groans again, urgingly. He can’t come with nothing but hot breaths brushing his cock—it’d give Yushi enough ammo to tease him for weeks.
Yushi’s lashes are clumped together. Humming, he bobs his head down again, no less careless, seemingly intent on ruining his throat and Sion’s ability to think normal thoughts around him. In no world could he ever forget the plushness of his tongue, or the painful scrape of teeth when he jerks too aggressively, but it’s never been this intense. Yushi is sucking him dry, pushing far past the give of his mouth, drool spilling over. The restraining grip in his hair only makes him greedier; Sion could bury himself here forever and Yushi would still try to take more. Would blink up at him so prettily and beg for his fingers too, for Sion to wrap his hands around his throat and feel how he’s molded around him.
He swallows, eyes falling shut, grasps Sion’s trembling thighs and digs his nails into a prominent vein, an admonishment for making it so hard for him. Sion knows, because he always knows, but fuck, Yushi is crying. Tears spilling down his pretty face, ragged choking muffled around where he’s stuffed silent, and all Sion can hear is the sick clicking noise illuminating how deep he is. Inside Yushi. Inside his boyfriend who’s still wearing those fucking glasses, because he listens and knows and—
“Ah, ah— Yushi, baby,” Sion tenses, a foot kicking out uselessly and digging into the sheets. He moans out something unintelligible, fingers flexing in Yushi’s hair as he pulls him back.
Yushi’s head hangs low, keeping Sion pressed against his cheek as he jerks him off, panting loudly. Sion is a goner. Yushi grazes his lips across the head of his dick, rasping, “Sion hyung,” and his whole body goes taut.
An embarrassingly loud moan spills out as he comes, white ropes streaking Yushi’s glasses, Yushi’s pink lips, Yushi Yushi Yushi, watching him with his jaw dropped. The pure heat zapping through him damn near blinds him, and he has to fight to keep his gaze steady, wanting this moment to be burned behind his eyelids.
His chest rises shallowly as he catches his breath, arms going limp and falling against the bed. He hasn’t come that hard in so long, and his legs are shaking so badly it feels like he’s still going. Yushi must have sucked his soul out of his dick.
“Holy shit,” Sion mumbles, pushing his sweaty hair from his face. A pleasant fog encapsulates his mind, a blissed-out silence he can feel in every bone. If Yushi wasn’t keeping him grounded with his head on his thigh, he’d float away. “Ushi,” Sion paws at his shoulder, needing him closer. He’s so spent, but wants Yushi’s skin on his, wants to pant into his mouth and be swallowed whole. “C’mere, baby.”
Weakly, Sion tugs him up, pulling him into his lap. He’s burning hot, eyes glazed over, and still meets Sion in a desperate kiss. The frames hit his nose and he can taste himself on Yushi’s lips—but he can taste himself on Yushi’s lips. Marked everywhere, because he’s Sion’s. He licks a stripe across his cheek, gathering the come in his mouth to feed it back to Yushi, who moans around his tongue.
Yushi’s hips push against his stomach, grinding haphazardly, and Sion shoves his hand down his shorts, marvelling at how wet he is. Just from sucking him off. God, Sion was stupid to even want to get off by himself. Nothing could compare to this, not all. Yushi’s arms around his shoulders, Yushi’s teeth digging into his lip. Yushi fucking into his hand, leaking all over his fingers.
“Baby, baby, you’re so hot. Love you, love you,” Sion tightens his grip on Yushi’s waist, jerking him off quickly, digging his nail into the slit so he’ll groan again, loud and shaky like it always is when he’s close.
“Hyung,” Yushi warns, head tipping back as Sion latches onto his throat, pressing the come lingering on his tongue into the bruises. He’s so high, the thrill of making Yushi feel good settling the ravenous beast in his belly.
Yushi grabs his face to press their foreheads together, staring deeply into his eyes so Sion can see. He’s not going anywhere. His mouth closes in a half-sob, and he spills over Sion’s fist, finishing with an aggressive shudder. So beautiful. So so beautiful, Sion’s baby, all for him.
Yushi slumps against him, hiding in the crook of his neck. Sion lets him come down, the rabbiting thrum of his heart quietening, beats slowly matching Sion’s. He wipes his hand on the bed, resigned to the fact he’ll have to do a load of laundry, and lies down, pulling Yushi with him. He’s trembling slightly, and Sion strokes the length of his spine calmingly, kissing the stretch of shoulder not covered by his t-shirt. He’d rather shove his face into Yushi’s hair and breathe him in, but he should probably wait till he’s washed up again. Or at least brushed his teeth.
“So good, baby,” Sion mumbles. “Did so good for hyung, made me feel so good.”
Yushi’s voice is muffled by his chest. “Is that the only word you know?”
Sion blows a loud raspberry against his throat in reproach. Forgive him for being a little dumb-stricken after the best blowjob he’s ever had. Damn.
Aghast, Yushi squeaks, slapping Sion’s bicep.
“Shh, baby,” he coos mockingly, entirely non-plussed. Yushi grumbles again, but lets Sion lift his head up to remove his glasses and wipe his face with the corner of his sheets. It’s kind of gross, but it’s also a problem for later. Or, at least, for when Yushi starts mithering them to clean up because he gets all tetchy when he’s sticky. Right now, he seems content to nestle against Sion’s shoulder, and Sion would be remiss not to take advantage of his clinginess after sex. He’s so soft and warm, and Sion is once again fighting the most crippling bout of cuteness-aggression.
“Hey…” Sion starts, suddenly aware of more than just his own body. “What did you do with the kids?”
Yushi mumbles. “Threatened them.”
“Right.” Sion snorts. “Really?”
“Ugh. Said I’d stay over and play Minecraft with them after dinner if they left.” His voice is fond, despite the groaning. “Sakuya said I’m not allowed to sit on the couch in case I fall asleep.”
How sweet. Sion is going to get fucking cavities just listening to him. “Wow. For me? Giving up your precious sleep so you could come hang out with me? I’m honored, Ushi.”
Yushi peers up at him, wrinkling his nose. Really, how is Sion not supposed to be obsessed with him? The contradiction of the words surely about to come out of his mouth, something along the lines of don’t be weird, it’s nothing, don’t even talk about it, and the way he’s clutching onto Sion’s bicep like he’ll disappear if he doesn’t—Sion can’t stop fucking grinning.
Yushi sighs again. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“Mhm.” Yushi huffs, then shoves his face back into Sion’s chest.
Sion worms his hands under Yushi’s shirt, mapping the broad expanse of his back. He’s kind of like a ragdoll, right now. All pliant and heavy.
“Just…” Yushi starts again, shuffling impossibly closer, his mouth pressing against Sion’s clavicle. “Missed you, stupid,” he says, so soft it could just be a breath. “You looked good today. I wanted to see you before dinner."
Sion is never getting over him. Really, he’s stuck here forever.
"I'll steal you away later," he promises, "you can cuddle with me."
Yushi snickers. "Obviously. I almost gave myself pink-eye for you."
Sion's dick twitches valiantly. He really is predictable. It's a wonder he isn't half-hard all the time, honestly. Yushi lifts up to glare, but Sion just laughs, squeezing him tight. "Sorry, baby." He kisses the sticky crease between his brows till it smooths out. "If you find my phone I'll wash your hair in the shower."
"You'll wash it anyway."
Well. Yeah. "And I'll stop being annoying when we play games."
Yushi hums. "I didn't say all that."
"Ugh, good. 'Cause I really didn't want to."
Yushi slaps his chest again, and Sion cackles.