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It’s late. Yunho doesn’t know what time it is or how long ago the sun went down. The bar has no windows, and inside, he’s in some liminal space where time warps, spinning his universe out of control. Seonghwa’s hand is on his thigh and Yunho cannot concentrate on a word coming out of his mouth.
This is new for him. Not the touching, that’s normal. The way that Yunho’s body reacts to it is not.
Yunho doesn’t remember when it started. All he knows is that there was a time when talking to Seonghwa didn’t require so much effort to concentrate on the words he was saying instead of the shape of his mouth, when their thighs touching while he was sitting next to him didn’t send sparks up his spine, when Seonghwa saying his name didn’t make his heart jump. And now he’s in this mess. The weight of his conscience has shifted gravity, pulled him closer to the earth’s core. He’s lethargic, damn near stagnant around Seonghwa. In a way, Seonghwa is his sun. Everything revolves around him. Yunho doesn’t know what that makes him. Seonghwa’s moon? But he’s not worthy of being a celestial body, not the way Seonghwa is.
He’s not even sure how he ended up at the bar, alone, except for Seonghwa. Vaguely, he remembers the other boys leaving and Seonghwa asking him to stay, and he did. It’s been probably an hour since then. Yunho doesn’t know what’s happened in the time since. His glass is empty. So is Seonghwa’s.
“Are you listening to me?”
Yunho blinks. It’s obvious that he’s not. He’s looking down, staring at Seonghwa’s slender fingers wrapped around his knee. Startled, he drags his gaze up Seonghwa’s body until he’s staring at his face, which is slightly red. It could be the alcohol. It could be the way that Yunho is staring at him. Even tipsy, Yunho recognizes that he’s looking at Seonghwa in a way he never has before.
He can’t help it. Seonghwa is beautiful, his dark hair grown out so that he has to keep brushing it out of his eyes, his t-shirt low-cut, revealing a hint of his collarbone, the line of his sternum. He’s wearing baggy sweatpants, and when he raises his arms high enough, the hem of his t-shirt lifts up, revealing the elastic of his boxers, a sliver of his toned stomach. Yunho could spend hours just noticing things about him. Seonghwa lets go of him, pulling away and dropping his hand in his lap. He’s redder than before, or maybe it’s the lighting.
“Sorry,” Yunho mumbles, looking away. He needs to handle this situation, now. He’s never been unable to be alone with one of his friends before. When he looks at Seonghwa again, he’s staring at him with something in his eyes that Yunho just can’t read. Yunho gestures weakly at his glass. “I’m…”
Seonghwa reaches for him again. Yunho has no idea what he’s going to do. All he knows is that he can’t let him touch him again. Quickly, he reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Seonghwa’s forearm, holding him in place, his arm frozen in the air, trying to push through the force field Yunho surrounds himself with. Seonghwa looks at him in surprise. “Yunho…”
Yunho is realizing quickly that he has no idea what the hell he’s doing. It could be the one drink he had, or it could be Seonghwa being so close. Either way, this situation is spiraling out of his control. Was it ever within his control to begin with?
“Why do you keep yourself so far away?” Seonghwa asks quietly. Yunho looks from where his fingers are on Seonghwa’s arm back to his face. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he continues, lowering his arm and Yunho’s with it.
“I’m not hiding,” Yunho says defensively. He’s not sure what he’s even defending against. “I’ve never hidden from you.” He lets go of Seonghwa’s arm, and he startles himself by the force with which he does it. For a split second, he can see the ghost of his fingers on Seonghwa’s skin, a burn mark that fades almost instantly. Seonghwa raises his hand to cover the spot where Yunho’s fingers were absently, rubbing his own fingers over it like it’s a bruise.
“Not before now,” Seonghwa says, folding his hands neatly in his lap, like he’s not sure what to do with them. “Not before a few weeks ago.”
Yunho just stares at him. Seonghwa sighs, looking away.
Yunho kind of wants to die. He hates that he’s doing this to Seonghwa, but isn’t this easier? How can he explain his feelings to Seonghwa if he doesn’t even understand them himself?
“We should head back,” Yunho says, not looking at Seonghwa.
“Yeah,” Seonghwa agrees, staring straight ahead.
“Where’s our hotel?” Yunho asks. He’s trying to sound casual, but his voice is strained from the effort of trying not to bury the uncomfortable tension of this moment in some other senseless conversation.
Seonghwa shrugs, sparing him barely a glance. “My phone is dead.”
Yunho fishes his out of his pocket, turning it on and unlocking it. Seonghwa leans closer to peer over his shoulder as he does, and Yunho is so distracted by how close he is that he realizes too late that he shouldn’t be.
His browser is open, and on the tab that’s pulled up is an astrology website displaying Seonghwa’s birth chart. He’s not into astrology, doesn’t really get it, but he’s so desperate to try and understand why Seonghwa has this effect on him that he thought it was worth trying. It’s far too complicated for him to understand. What he did manage to glean is that two aries are pretty compatible. Their blood types are a perfect match, too. Yunho’s never bought into any of that before, but he’s starting to wonder if he should. How else can he explain this sudden onset of feelings, this obsession that bubbled up before he could stamp it out? Every time he looks at Seonghwa, all he can think about is how good he could make him feel and how badly he wants to.
“Is that your chart?” Seonghwa asks, and Yunho thanks everything that Seonghwa doesn’t know anything about astrology.
“Yes,” he lies. It’s close enough. At least, he thinks so. Their birthdays are only ten days (and a year) apart, how different can it be?
“I didn’t know you were into astrology,” Seonghwa says. Yunho can feel his breath on his neck. He wonders how differently it would feel if Seonghwa was on top of him and he was inside of him, pulling Seonghwa’s hips down into his lap as Seonghwa whined into his neck.
“I’m not,” Yunho says flatly. He closes the tab and swipes out of his browser so that he can pull up the map. “Do you know the address?”
Seonghwa nods and puts his hand out, so Yunho hands him his phone. Their fingers graze each other and Yunho has to stare at the top of Seonghwa’s head in order to not spiral out over it.
Seonghwa furrows his brow and bites his lip as he types. His face relaxes once he sees how far away it is. Yunho would have never noticed any of this a month ago. Seonghwa turns the phone around, showing it to Yunho. “It’s a fifteen minute walk,” he says.
Not bad. Yunho thinks he can survive a fifteen minute walk with Seonghwa. He signals for the bartender and pays both of their tabs, and when he turns back around he finds Seonghwa looking at him with interest. “I could have gotten mine,” he says, sounding amused. Of course he could have. Yunho is an idiot. What is wrong with him?
“I know,” he says. He tries to come up with an excuse, a reason, but there’s nothing. His mind is blank. Whatever. He pushes past Seonghwa and toward the door.
“You know,” Seonghwa says lightly, once they’re outside and it’s noticeably quieter, “Usually, when someone buys me a drink, they don’t run away from me after.”
Yunho pauses, turning to look at Seonghwa, but he keeps walking straight past him. It only takes a couple strides for Yunho to catch back up with him.
“Oh yeah?” Yunho asks, playing along. Maybe this is okay. “And what is it that they usually do?”
Seonghwa hums. “Well,” he says, dragging his fingers along the wall of a random building they walk by, “Usually they want something.” By raising his arm to touch the brick, he’s lifted his shirt up again. Yunho stares at the thin strip of Seonghwa’s golden skin that he’s exposed. Under the street lights, his skin looks even richer. Yunho wants to sink his teeth into him.
“Like what?” Yunho asks. He feels like a dog begging its owner for a treat. Biting ankles, looking sweet, doing anything to get what it wants.
“I dunno,” Seonghwa says. “That’s for you to tell me.” He glances at Yunho and seems startled to find him staring at him so intently. He blushes, deeper than he has all night. Yunho almost wonders if Seonghwa can tell that he’s thinking about biting him. “Yunho,” he mumbles, turning away from him and continuing down the street.
Yunho watches him go, just for a little bit. Seonghwa’s silhouette is so perfect, all long legs and broad shoulders and, fuck, that waist… He’s so busy staring that it takes him a moment to register when Seonghwa turns and steps into a convenience store. He’s not sure if he should go inside; following Seonghwa seems a little overbearing, so he settles on waiting outside the door. Seonghwa comes out a few moments later, tucking a paper bag into the inside pocket of his jacket. Yunho decides he won’t ask. It’s not like he’d be able to listen to him if he told him, anyway. He’d probably be too busy staring at Seonghwa’s teeth and wondering how it would feel to run his tongue over them.
“Where are we going, Yunho?” Seonghwa asks, and Yunho remembers that he’s in charge of navigating. He fumbles to get his phone back out, showing the screen to Seonghwa, who nods. He links an arm though Yunho’s so naturally it almost hurts, and they continue down the street arm in arm as Yunho tries not to think about how normal it feels.
They make it the rest of the way, somehow. Yunho feels every agonizing second of it, every torturous step, as he tries not to care about the heat of Seonghwa’s body next to him, the press of their arms, intertwined, against each other. And yet, when the hotel comes into view, his stomach turns in a strange way. Despite everything, he doesn’t want to let go of Seonghwa.
“Do you have your key?” Seonghwa asks when they reach the door, and Yunho reluctantly unlinks his arm from Seonghwa’s to pat his pockets, feeling around for it. He takes out his wallet and it’s not in there, either. He shakes his head, turning to look at Seonghwa. Seonghwa stares at him, shaking his head back.
“Shit,” Yunho mutters. It’s late, the concierge is closed. There’s no one to call, other than the emergency line, but this is almost too embarrassing to call over. He switches to another app on his phone, zooming in on the map and scanning it for his friends. There’s San, at the hotel. The rest of the boys are scattered across the city.
“Call San,” Seonghwa orders from right next to him and Yunho jumps. He hadn’t realized Seonghwa was looking, too. Yunho switches to the phone app and selects San from his favorites. It rings, goes to voicemail. He hangs up and tries again. And again. Yunho hangs up for the fourth time and stares blankly at Seonghwa.
“His phone’s probably on silent,” Seonghwa sulks. “No one ever listens to me when I say to keep their phones on…”
“It’s three in the morning,” Yunho points out. Seonghwa makes a face at him.
“And we’re stuck out here,” he says. Fair enough. Seonghwa sighs, running his hands through his hair. “It’s okay. Go around the back, maybe there’s a window.”
“Okay, maybe we get inside, but how do we get into our rooms?” Yunho asks.
“I gave San my spare key,” is all Seonghwa says. Yunho will not wonder how he will get into his own room right now. Seonghwa nudges him in the side, urging him to get going.
This is ridiculous. And yet, Yunho does as he’s told, trampling through the overgrown weeds spilling through the cracks in the concrete as he canvasses the hotel, searching for an open door or window. Seonghwa follows behind him, grabbing his hand like he’s scared he’ll get lost. Yunho squeezes his fingers, and Seonghwa squeezes back.
Maybe Seonghwa is a genius. In the back, the staff entrance door is propped open ever so slightly, leading directly into the stairwell.
“Shit,” Yunho says.
“Told you,” Seonghwa says. He pulls the door open and yanks Yunho inside. Yunho trips on the door stopper, kicking it out of place, and they’re plunged into darkness when the door slams shut behind them.
“Seonghwa-hyung?” Yunho whispers. He can’t see anything. He can faintly hear Seonghwa breathing.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Seonghwa replies. He sounds like he’s next to him. Yunho turns in a tight circle, reaching out blindly in front of him, and he hits the solid wall that is Seonghwa’s chest.
“Ow,” Seonghwa says.
“Sorry,” Yunho says. He flattens his hand out, pressing his palm against Seonghwa’s heart. “There you are,” he says. Both of Seonghwa’s hands come up to wrap around his forearm, and he pulls Yunho’s arm down, lowering it between them and letting go. From the sound of his breathing, it sounds like Seonghwa is scooching closer. Yunho jolts when he feels Seonghwa’s hands on his waist. He draws them up Yunho’s body, resting them on either side of his face. Yunho runs his hands along Seonghwa’s arms, tracing over his shoulders and then down to his waist, where he holds him gently. Just to center them both, he tells himself. To help them both get their bearings.
“Is it easier, like this?” Seonghwa asks quietly.
“Is what easier?” Yunho’s heart is pounding. He looks into the darkness, but he can’t make Seonghwa out.
“Being near me,” Seonghwa says.
“Being near you is the easy part,” Yunho whispers. Seonghwa brushes his thumb over Yunho’s bottom lip. Yunho focuses every neuron in his body on not pulling it into his mouth.
“You expect me to believe that?” Seonghwa says softly. “You’ve been avoiding me for two months.”
He didn’t realize it had been that long. Every day for him has been measured in how many minutes he spends in Seonghwa’s company, how many times Seonghwa laughs at something he says, how many times Yunho can look at him before he starts feeling the ache in his chest of loneliness. He hadn’t been tracking the days. Seonghwa has.
“When I’m around you,” Yunho starts, then cuts himself off abruptly. He can’t. It’s too dangerous, not worth the risk. He’ll scare Seonghwa off, and then he won’t even have him tangentially.
“When you’re around me…?” Seonghwa prompts him, urging him to finish his sentence. To be honest with himself, and with Seonghwa, for once. And he should. He owes him this much.
“When I’m around you, you’re my sun,” Yunho says quietly. “And if I stay out in it too long, I’ll burn.”
Seonghwa has nothing to say to that.
“Come on,” Yunho says softly, letting go of Seonghwa’s waist and tugging one of Seonghwa's arms down so that he can intertwine their fingers. “You think we can make it up these stairs?”
“I think so,” Seonghwa says faintly. Yunho shuffles in the direction he thinks the stairs are in, scooting forward until his toes hit the first step.
“Here we go,” Yunho says, taking the first step and reaching with his free hand for the railing. Seonghwa squeezes his hand tightly, following his lead. Somehow, they make it up the first flight of stairs, and Yunho gropes blindly at the wall until he feels the door handle. When he throws it open, triumphant, he turns to Seonghwa with a grin on his face. Seonghwa looks…
“We did it,” Yunho says, less enthusiastic than he felt ten seconds ago. Seonghwa is flushed. He looks dazed, his pupils blown wide, despite the fact that they’re in the light now. He’s so pretty like this. Yunho could make him look like that, easily, faster and with less clothing involved.
“We did it,” Seonghwa repeats, not looking at him. He pushes past Yunho and stomps toward San’s room, leaving Yunho to follow after him. He pounds hard on the door when he reaches it.
San answers the door in boxers and nothing else. Yunho rolls his eyes. Seonghwa starts in on him immediately, yammering about how it’s indecent to answer the door like that, pushing past him and entering the room. Yunho gives San a sympathetic smile and closes the door behind him, lingering near it.
“People aren’t usually trying to knock my door down in the middle of the night,” San mumbles, looking wounded as Seonghwa rifles through his things spread out on the dresser. He shoots Yunho a confused look, and Yunho shrugs at him.
“We got locked out,” Yunho explains.
San lights up in understanding. “I have Seonghwa-hyung’s extra key,” he says proudly, preening like a kitten. Yunho resists the urge to ruffle his hair.
“That’s what he’s looking for,” Yunho says. San trots over to help him look, ever eager to be useful. They find it eventually, shoved between the pages of a magazine under a pile of convenience store food.
Seonghwa takes his key back and ruffles San’s hair—now Yunho really wishes that he did it when he had the chance—and returns to the door, and to Yunho, bidding San goodnight.
“Wait, hyung,” San says, tilting his head, puzzled. Seonghwa pauses with one hand on the door handle. “How is Yunho going to get into his room?”
That’s the million dollar question. Yunho had been wondering the same.
“He can stay with me,” Seonghwa says breezily. “Go back to sleep, Sannie.”
That was the obvious answer, really. Yunho knew all along where this was going. A few weeks ago, this would have meant nothing. He would have passed out on Seonghwa’s couch, gratefully, without a second thought. But everything is different now. Yunho, most of all.
Seonghwa leads him down the hallway to his room and unlocks the door, turning the light on as he steps into it. Yunho lets the door swing shut behind him, keeping his back pressed against it, and Seonghwa reaches around him to deadbolt the door.
He’s so close Yunho would barely have to move to touch him. A million things flash across his vision in a millisecond—being in the dark, touching Seonghwa, Seonghwa’s waist, Seonghwa’s skin, linking arms with him, looking at him like he wants to devour him (he does), the sun and the moon—and before he can think about what he’s doing, Yunho grabs Seonghwa’s waist with both hands. It’s a possessive action, different from when they were in the stairwell in the dark. Yunho holds him with intention, his fingers firm against Seonghwa’s body, for once doing something that Seonghwa can interpret only one way. For once not hiding.
“Yunho,” Seonghwa says in an attempt at stern. Yunho stays leaning casually against the door, his hands tightening around Seonghwa’s waist. He can’t let go. He won’t. He knows Seonghwa doesn’t want him to, he can feel it in the way he relaxes into Yunho’s touch, leans a fraction closer.
“Yeah?” Yunho replies, dragging his gaze from where it’s fixed on Seonghwa’s mouth back up to his eyes.
“Are you going to stop hiding?” Seonghwa whispers, placing both hands on his chest and pressing him into the door.
“I told you, I’m not hiding,” Yunho says, pulling Seonghwa closer by the waist. He really might do this. They really might do this.
“Then why won’t you just tell me what you want?” Seonghwa asks.
He can’t keep speaking in code like this, it’s going to drive him crazy. Seonghwa is going to drive him crazy. He already drove him crazy, two months ago, and Yunho has been drowning in the deep end ever since.
“I want you,” Yunho says, staring into Seongwa’s eyes. “I don’t know what changed, or why, but I want you.” It feels like the weight of the world is lifted off his chest in an instant. All this time, all this wondering and googling their blood types and searching for answers, and it was this simple all along. I want you.
“I know,” Seonghwa replies, looking up at him. “Was it that hard to just say it?”
Yes. No. It doesn’t matter. He has him now, and it was all worth it, every agonizing second of the past two months.
Instead of replying, Yunho leans down and kisses him.
Seonghwa gasps a little into his mouth, threading his fingers through his hair and leaning eagerly into him. Yunho eases his mouth open impatiently, almost dizzy when Seonghwa’s tongue finds his. He moves one hand lower, grabbing Seonghwa’s ass, and Seonghwa whimpers, smoothing his hands from Yunho’s chest to his shoulders, then down his arms. Seonghwa slides his hands up under Yunho’s shirt, touching his abdomen, his chest, the pads of his fingers sparking against Yunho’s skin.
Seonghwa’s nose bumps against his, their teeth clashing together messily. Yunho holds Seonghwa impossibly tighter, sucking lightly on his bottom lip. Seonghwa sighs softly into his mouth, eager to let Yunho touch him, kiss him, explore his body with his hands.
“Yunho,” Seonghwa gasps, pulling away for an instant, and then Yunho is swallowing his next couple of words, diving in to kiss him again. “Yunho, I—” Yunho cares what he has to say. Really, he does. He just cares about tasting Seonghwa’s tongue more. “I want to,” Seonghwa manages to get out, glancing up at him with his pretty eyes, placing a hand on Yunho’s jaw, taming him for an instant. “I want to.”
Yunho almost growls—it’s more like a low rumble deep in his throat as he takes Seonghwa’s body in his hands and pulls him flush against him, kissing along Seonghwa’s jaw and down to his neck, sucking lightly here and there. He presses one leg between Seonghwa’s and Seonghwa moans, rocking gently against Yunho’s thigh. Yunho uses a hand to guide his hips as he ruts against him, tangling the other in his hair.
“That’s it,” Yunho says gently, encouragingly, enjoying very much the view and the sensation of Seonghwa using his leg to get off. Seonghwa looks up at him, hot, flushed, his eyes wide, a tiny whimper slipping past his lips. Yunho cups his face in one hand and traces his bottom lip with his thumb, like Seonghwa did to him in the dark. He tips Seonghwa’s face up toward him and leans down to kiss him again, nipping softly at his lip.
“Let me… get my clothes off,” Seonghwa mumbles, breathless, pulling away, and Yunho kisses him once more before reluctantly letting him go.
Everything is real, then, as Seonghwa takes a couple steps backward, pulls his jacket off, and Yunho realizes what they’re doing. Where they’re going.
“Maybe we should talk about this,” Yunho blurts out. Seonghwa, with his shirt halfway over his head, pauses and stares at him.
“I’ve been trying,” he says gently, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. He drops it onto the floor next to his jacket. He lowers his hands to his waistband, unties his sweatpants. Watching him undress, Yunho is captivated. “You’re the one who didn’t want to.” Yunho wants nothing more than to watch him tug his pants off. Maybe to do it himself.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” Yunho says weakly. Seonghwa rolls his eyes.
“Do I look scared?”
“You look pretty,” Yunho says truthfully. It’s all he can think, anyway. Seonghwa pauses, frozen a few feet away. Yunho pushes himself off the door and steps closer to him, enjoying the way Seonghwa has to tilt his head back to look up at him. “Something changed,” he says softly, brushing a few pieces of hair out of Seonghwa’s face. “And now all I can think about is you. All I want is you.”
“That’s not so bad,” Seonghwa whispers back. Yunho leans down to kiss him again, pulling Seonghwa closer by the small of his back. Seonghwa loops his arms around Yunho’s neck. It’s easy, it’s perfect, kissing Seonghwa like this. Yunho wonders why he waited so long to try.
Seonghwa’s hands wander down, sliding his fingers underneath the lapels of Yunho’s jacket. Yunho lets him pull it off of him, watching it join Seonghwa’s on the floor. As Yunho kisses him again, Seonghwa’s hands move lower, fussing with Yunho’s jeans, pulling his belt off and undoing the button.
“I want you, too,” Seonghwa says quietly, breaking away. Yunho can still taste him on his mouth. He reaches for Seonghwa’s hand, pulls him toward the bed. He’s impatient, greedy. “Wait,” Seonghwa says abruptly. He lets go of Yunho’s hand and drops to his knees, rummaging through his jacket for the paper bag from earlier. From it, he produces a small bottle of lube. Finally, for the first time all evening, Yunho blushes. “It was just in case,” Seonghwa says softly, suddenly shy. “You wouldn’t stop staring at me, so I thought…” He trails off and gets back to his feet, beelining for the bed and crawling into it.
Yunho follows after him, shedding his jeans before climbing in bed with him. He crawls over Seonghwa, knees and hands on either side of his body. Seonghwa gazes up at him, his hair fanned out on the pillow, his body trembling ever so slightly beneath Yunho’s.
“Of course I couldn’t stop staring at you,” Yunho says quietly. Seonghwa lets out a shaky sigh, reaching up to touch Yunho’s face. Having Yunho on top of him like this seems to have shifted things, and now Seonghwa is hesitant where Yunho is confident, the exact opposite of how the rest of the evening has gone. It’s a delicious little twist, like a sweet taste in Yunho’s mouth. “You’re beautiful.” Seonghwa whines softly.
Yunho tugs Seonghwa’s sweats and boxers down a few inches, pressing his thumb into Seonghwa’s hip, grabbing him tightly. His grip is firm, possessive. Having Seonghwa this close, touching him like this, could very well still be one of his hazy fantasies. He needs to remind himself that Seonghwa is real, flesh and blood underneath him. He looks like a fairy. Or a nymph. Like if Yunho blinked, he might disappear, too pretty for this world.
Seonghwa’s breath catches in his throat. “Hyung,” Seonghwa whimpers, drawing in a small gasp. He stares up at Yunho, wide-eyed.
Yunho pauses, his blood running hot. It goes right to his head. He shouldn’t be this turned on just from Seonghwa hazily calling him by an honorific he shouldn’t use, but it sounds good. It feels good. Everything sounds pretty, sounds right, coming out of Seonghwa’s mouth. Seonghwa doesn’t say it like it’s just something that gets him off—he says it like he should be saying it. Like Yunho is in any way deserving of that title.
“Seonghwa,” Yunho whispers, dropping the honorific to see if Seonghwa notices, gripping Seonghwa’s hip tighter. Seonghwa just arches prettily into him, reaching for his bicep, burning the shape of his fingers into Yunho’s arm.
“What is it, hyungie?” he asks, frowning a little. Yunho studies his face, trying to figure out if he knows what he’s saying. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe this is just where his mind goes whenever someone is on top of him. Yunho doesn’t care. He’ll be whatever Seonghwa wants him to be. Seonghwa’s face is flushed, his lips pink and pouty, his eyes lidded. He clutches at him tighter, concern coloring his features. He draws his eyebrows together, his pout deepening. Yunho just wants to kiss him.
“Nothing,” he says softly, sliding his hand down Seonghwa’s thigh and pulling it toward him, tucking it around his waist. Seonghwa pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, hooking his leg around Yunho’s hips and pulling him closer.
“Do you still want me?” Seonghwa asks quietly.
That question—Yunho can’t believe there’s a single shred of doubt in Seonghwa’s mind. He’s aching, his head is spinning, and he has the prettiest person in the whole world underneath him calling him hyung. Does he want him? Yunho could create a whole new language made up just of words that explain how much, how badly, he wants him.
“Always,” Yunho says softly. He leans down to press his lips to Seonghwa’s and he kisses him back eagerly, wrapping his free arm behind Yunho’s neck, pressing their bodies together as Yunho lowers himself on top of Seonghwa gingerly. Yunho can feel every inch of Seonghwa pressed against him, soft and firm and eager. Pressing his knee into Yunho’s waist, Seonghwa shifts his body weight to the right, rolling them over so that he’s kneeling over Yunho. Yunho dips his fingers into Seonghwa’s waistband, tugging his sweats and boxers down so that Seonghwa can kick them off. Yunho pushes himself up the bed so that he can lean back against the bedframe and Seonghwa sits down in his lap, clutching at the fabric of Yunho’s t-shirt to steady himself.
Yunho takes in the sight of him, bare and breathless, his thighs tensing on top of Yunho’s, his hands twisting in Yunho’s shirt. Yunho can feel himself pressing up into Seonghwa through his briefs, half-hard already. Seonghwa is harder, his dick curving up toward his stomach, leaking a little. Yunho wraps a hand around him, sliding his other hand up his thigh. The slide of his hand on Seonghwa’s dick is rough, harsh, but perfect. Seonghwa whimpers, rutting down into Yunho’s lap and forward into his palm at the same time.
“Where’s the lube, baby?” Yunho asks, and Seonghwa shudders out a deep breath, carefully leaning back on Yunho’s thighs and reaching toward the corner of the bed for it. He pushes it into Yunho’s hands when he finds it. “You want me to do it?” Yunho asks, double checking. Seonghwa nods, lifting himself up onto his knees, using Yunho’s shoulders for balance.
That’s all the invitation he needs. Yunho opens the lube and coats two fingers with it quickly. He goes to close the bottle, then hesitates before finally slicking up his ring finger, too. Seonghwa makes a tiny sound of protest.
“Sorry,” Yunho says sheepishly. “I think you’ll need it.”
“Real modest,” Seonghwa mutters, but there’s no bite to it.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yunho says. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
Seonghwa nods, shuffling his knees apart slightly. Yunho slides his dry hand up Seonghwa’s thigh, squeezing his ass and holding him open. Tenderly, he presses the tip of his middle finger in. Seonghwa’s nails dig into his skin through his t-shirt, squeezing him tighter and tighter as Yunho pushes his finger in further.
“Ah—hah,” he pants, dropping his head down. Yunho turns his head up to stare at him. He pulls his finger out slightly and then pushes it back in, slow, repetitive, until Seonghwa can get his bearings.
“I’m going to put another one in, okay?” Yunho asks softly, reaching up to brush Seonghwa’s bangs out of his face.
“Okay,” Seonghwa says faintly.
This time, Yunho pulls his finger all the way out, pressing with two fingers against Seonghwa’s entrance. Seonghwa shudders, whimpering as Yunho pushes his fingers inside, scissoring them once they’re in to the knuckle, focusing on stretching him, preparing him.
“Hyung,” Seonghwa moans, his hips jerking forward, and Yunho moves a hand to hold him by the hip, steadying him.
“Do you feel good?” Yunho asks. He knows he does, he can tell from the way his lips are shaking and the red flush that’s spread from his face to his chest.
“I feel good,” Seonghwa babbles, gasping when Yunho starts to curl his fingers slightly. “Your fingers… are… longer than mine…”
“I know,” Yunho says gently. It’s something he thinks about a lot. Maybe Seonghwa does, too. “Do you touch yourself like this a lot?”
Seonghwa doesn’t say anything, just pushes his hips back, grinding into Yunho’s hand. He’ll take that as a yes. Yunho doesn’t give him a warning before he adds his third finger, just pushes it in along with the other two. Seonghwa arches toward him, crying out, his thighs shaking with the burden of holding himself upright.
“Hyung-ah,” Seonghwa says feebly, pushing desperately into Yunho’s hand. Yunho wraps his other hand around Seonghwa’s thigh.
“What is it, honey?” Yunho asks innocently, like he’s not pressing deeper, searching for the spot that will make Seonghwa louder than he already is. He knows he finds it when Seonghwa nearly shrieks. “There,” he says softly. Seonghwa squirms on top of him. “Is that where you need me, baby?”
Seonghwa nods rapidly, his elbows buckling as he sinks back down into Yunho’s lap. He struggles to straighten back up, and Yunho slides a hand up his inner thigh to try and stabilize him.
“There it is,” Yunho says gently, holding Seonghwa’s trembling body upright. He alternates between scissoring his fingers and pressing lightly on Seonghwa’s prostate as Seonghwa grips onto his shirt for dear life.
“C-careful,” Seonghwa whispers, placing a hand on the side of Yunho’s neck. He thinks he’s going to come and then that will be the end of it. He has no idea what Yunho can do to him.
“You want it now, honey?” Yunho asks gently, smoothing a hand over his hair. Seonghwa nods, lowering his hands and tugging on the hem of Yunho’s shirt. Yunho leans forward and lets go—Seonghwa almost topples into him—so that Seonghwa can take his shirt off of him.
Seonghwa touches his chest, his arms, dragging his fingers lightly over Yunho’s skin. It electrifies him, sets him on fire. He just wants Seonghwa, touching him, like this, all the time.
With a quiet sigh, Seonghwa drops back down onto Yunho’s thighs and then rolls off of him, onto his back. Yunho takes his briefs off before pushing off the headboard and kneeling over him.
“Can I…?” Yunho asks, placing his hands on Seonghwa’s hips, pulling slightly to the left so that Seonghwa knows he intends to flip him over. Seonghwa’s eyes widen, and he bites down hard on his lip.
“Um… y-yeah,” he stutters, his voice faint.
“Only if you want to,” Yunho says, catching Seonghwa’s eye.
“No, I… I want to,” Seonghwa whispers. “It’s just… you know…” Yunho watches his face as he tries to figure out what he wants to say. His lips purse when he finally settles on the word. “...Dirty…”
Yunho bites his lip to stop from smiling. His hyung, so sweet and so… he wouldn’t say innocent, but there are times when he fits the description.
“It’s sex,” Yunho says. “Everything about it is dirty.”
“It’s embarrassing,” Seonghwa says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Would you want to get on your hands and knees for me?”
“I would, if you wanted me to,” Yunho says truthfully. Seonghwa tsks. “It will feel good,” Yunho promises. “You’ll like it. And we can switch if you don’t.” Vaguely, he wonders what other sex Seonghwa has had in his life, and how much. Not that it’s any of his business. But watching the way Seonghwa just dissolves around the idea of having sex with him has him wondering. “How do you usually have sex?” he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Seonghwa blinks at him. “Uh… normally?”
Yunho raises his eyebrows. “Missionary?” Seonghwa nods, his cheeks turning pink. Yunho smirks. “I can make it feel better than that.” It’s not that he would mind fucking Seonghwa in missionary—he would love to actually, would love to watch Seonghwa’s face as he reacts to every thrust of Yunho into him. But this isn’t about Yunho, it’s about Seonghwa, and making him feel good.
“It feels good how I do it,” Seonghwa says defensively.
“I know,” Yunho says. “I said I can make it feel better.”
Seonghwa opens his mouth to say something, then doesn’t. Gently, Yunho turns Seonghwa onto his stomach, pulling his hips into the air. Seonghwa makes a small sound of protest, whining quietly as Yunho’s large hands wrap around his waist, holding him up.
“Is this okay?” Yunho asks quietly.
“Yeah…” Seonghwa says faintly. His fingers are twisted in the comforter, balled up into fists. “Go slow,” he adds feebly.
“I will,” Yunho exhales. Seonghwa will not want him to go slow in a few seconds.
Seonghwa’s hole is slick to the touch. Yunho can feel Seonghwa twitch when he presses his thumb against it. “Yunho-hyung,” Seonghwa protests.
“You look good like this,” Yunho says, moving his hand lower so that he can stimulate his perineum. Seonghwa makes an indignant sound, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t shy away from Yunho’s hands. Yunho squeezes his ass again and grabs his cock with one hand, guiding it to Seonghwa’s hole and pressing the tip against it. He’s aching, Seonghwa hasn’t touched him once, and looking at him like this is almost too much. Gripping onto Seonghwa’s hip, Yunho slides into him, slowly, pulling Seonghwa back on his cock as he pushes it inside of him.
“Mmph,” Seonghwa mumbles underneath him, sounding like he’s speaking around a mouthful of comforter. Probably he is. Cute.
There’s about an inch of Yunho left. He places both hands on Seonghwa’s hips and tugs Seonghwa back, pushing forward at the same time until his hips are flush against Seonghwa’s ass. Seonghwa cries out, his fingers turning white where they’re clenched around the comforter.
“How are you doing, honey?” Yunho asks, rubbing circles into Seongwa’s hips with his thumbs.
“I…” Seonghwa whimpers. Yunho grinds into him and Seonghwa moans, his thighs shaking.
“Told you it would feel better,” Yunho says smugly. He pulls out slowly and then thrusts back in, hard, fast. Seonghwa makes some sounds that Yunho thinks could make him come all on their own. “How does that feel?” He knows Seonghwa said to go slow, but Yunho knows how to make it feel good, and judging by the way Seonghwa is crying out, he knows that it feels good.
“Y-yeah…” Seonghwa manages to spit out, dissolving into another whine when Yunho humps into him lightly.
“Still want me to go slow?”
Seonghwa whines, pushing back onto Yunho’s cock. He supposes that’s a no.
He pulls out again, then, keeping that pace the best he can—almost brutal, his fingers pressing into Seonghwa’s hips so hard his skin turns red, but Seonghwa loves it, wants it deeper, pushes back against him, cries into the mattress. Seonghwa feels amazing around him, but he’s more concerned with making Seonghwa feel good, like he promised. Yunho angles Seonghwa’s hips up a little more, watching Seonghwa’s back arch prettily, a pleasured whimper slipping past his lips.
“There you go, baby,” Yunho says gently, thrusting into Seonghwa harder, watching Seonghwa’s tight body slip up the mattress. “You feel good?” Seonghwa whimpers, some combination of assent and declaration of pleasure. Yunho slides a hand up his side, over his ribs, and squeezes Seonghwa’s chest, rolling his nipple between his thumb and forefinger gently.
“Hyung,” Seonghwa mumbles into the comforter.
“Yeah, honey?”
“Can you… touch me…” he stops abruptly, pushing his face back into the mattress.
As gently as he can, Yunho laces his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, pulling his head up slightly.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he says. “I’ll do it.” Seonghwa jolts forward from a particularly hard thrust, whimpering into the open air.
“Touch me, please,” Seonghwa begs, his voice desperate, needy.
“Where, honey?” Yunho asks softly.
“Anywhere,” Seonghwa whimpers. “I just like… your hands…” He makes a tiny sound that Yunho identifies as embarrassment.
Yunho lets go of Seonghwa’s head, which he buries back in the bed, and places one hand on Seonghwa’s ass, kneading it hard, and Seonghwa moans. Yunho lets his hands roam freely over Seonghwa’s body, squeezing his ass again, caressing the insides of his thighs, brushing over his ribs, tracing over his shoulders, touching between his shoulder blades. When Yunho massages Seonghwa’s balls lightly, Seonghwa’s hips stutter and then drop. Yunho moves his hands back to Seonghwa’s waist, pulling him into position again. Seonghwa cries out, clenching around him.
“Just a bit more,” Yunho promises. “Just a little longer and hyung will make you cum, okay?”
Seonghwa nods into the mattress, dazed. “Okay,” he mumbles, pushing his face into the comforter, pressing his hips back. Yunho holds him up by his waist, keeping him exactly in the position Seonghwa has made it clear he needs, grinding forward into him. Seonghwa whimpers, his hips twitching as he struggles to hold himself up.
“There you go,” Yunho says, his gentle tone contrasting with his harsh thrusts. “So good for me, so perfect, honey. You’re doing so well.”
“I—hyung,” Seonghwa whimpers.
“Yeah?” Yunho pants out. That’s him. Seonghwa’s hyung.
“I think, I—my—I—” he can’t even form words, Yunho is fucking him so good.
“I know, honey,” Yunho says. “I know, baby.” He’s on the edge, and the view in front of him is so good—Seonghwa’s head in the mattress, the comforter wet with his saliva and tears, his waist in Yunho’s hands, his ass in the air, Yunho’s cock plowing into him. Combined with Seonghwa’s tight warmth around him, Yunho thinks he might come, but he can’t—not yet. Not before Seonghwa. Seonghwa lets out a wounded cry when Yunho pauses his thrusts, trying to stop the crest of pleasure deep in his stomach from peaking.
“Hyungie…” Seonghwa whines, pushing himself a couple of inches off the bed and turning his head to the side so that he can pout for Yunho. His makeup is a mess, smeared around his eyes, tear tracks running through the dark smudges on his face.
“Oh, honey,” Yunho says softly. Seonghwa wants to come so bad. He can make that happen. Gently, Yunho wraps his hands around Seonghwa’s ribs and pulls him up, sitting back on his calves so that Seonghwa is in his lap, legs spread across Yunho’s thighs, back pressed against his chest.
Seonghwa makes a noise that Yunho doesn’t think he could ever even describe, a guttural whine like nothing he’s ever heard. The tip of Yunho’s cock is pressed right against his prostate, and from this angle, Seonghwa is in heaven, blissed out of his mind.
“That’s my good boy,” Yunho whispers in his ear, holding Seonghwa against him with one large hand splayed across his chest, the other on his hip, forcing Seonghwa to grind down on his cock. “How’s that, honey?” He guides Seonghwa in small circles in his lap, thrusting up slightly every now and again.
Seonghwa can’t speak. He tips his head back, resting it on Yunho’s shoulder as he reaches down with one hand to wrap around his cock. With the other, he reaches behind him to tug on Yunho’s hair, desperate to keep himself upright.
“Please—hyung—” Seonghwa gasps out, squeezing his eyes shut as he grinds down hard into Yunho’s lap, tugging faster on his cock. Yunho drops his hand from Seonghwa’s chest to cover the hand he has wrapped around himself, dwarfing Seonghwa’s hand in comparison.
“I’m here,” Yunho says soothingly. “I’m here, baby, I’ve got you. Go ahead and cum, honey.” He’s burning, he’s so close, and he tries to tamp down the heat in his core, tries to ignore the waves of pleasure he feels from Seonghwa clenching around him. He can’t come—he needs Seonghwa to be able to use his cock to get off.
“Hyungie—please, Yunho-hyung, I’m—I—”
“Cum for me, honey,” Yunho murmurs, pulling down on Seonghwa’s body and thrusting up into him at the same time.
Yunho feels it when Seonghwa comes in the shudder of his body, in the clench of his body around Yunho’s cock, in the way he spills into both of their hands. His body tightens all at once, Yunho can feel his thighs tense, his spine straightens, and then he goes limp, warm and lax on top of him. Yunho puts both hands on his hips and pulls Seonghwa down into his lap as he continues to press up into him, rocking Seonghwa against him gently, doing everything he can to make Seonghwa’s orgasm last longer.
“That’s it, baby,” Yunho says softly. “Use me, it’s okay.” Seonghwa makes a feeble attempt to grind down against him, reaching between his spread legs to squeeze Yunho’s thighs, fumbling to get his balance, digging his nails in so hard that it hurts, but Yunho doesn’t care about that. All he cares about is continuing the pleasure coursing through Seonghwa’s body. He squeezes Seonghwa’s chest with both hands, working his nipples gently. Seonghwa whimpers, reaching up blindly to tug at Yunho’s forearms. Yunho doesn’t stop touching his chest, enjoying the way Seonghwa squirms in his lap. It’s too much stimulation, he knows, everywhere—Yunho is all over him, inside him, their sweaty bodies sliding against one another.
“Yunho-hyung,” Seonghwa moans, clenching hard around him one more time, and that does it for him. Yunho comes, finally, hard, spilling into Seonghwa, who sobs, the feeling of Yunho releasing his semen against his prostate short-circuiting his brain. Yunho groans quietly as he feels his cum spill out of Seonghwa’s hole, leaking down between his thighs as Seonghwa continues to rut down against him, milking his prostate for as long as he can. Yunho brushes his hair out of the way so he can kiss his neck as Seonghwa collapses back into him, shaking. Yunho smooths a hand over his hair and squeezes his thigh gently.
“Good boy,” Yunho whispers into his hair, kissing the side of his head. Seonghwa only whimpers, leaning heavily back into Yunho. “You did so good, honey.”
He lets Seonghwa come down for a few minutes before he lifts him off of him slowly, listening to Seonghwa whine quietly as Yunho slips out of him. Yunho lays him down gently on top of the comforter and Seonghwa throws his arm across his face, tucking his face into the crook of his elbow. Yunho drops onto all fours, crawling over Seonghwa’s body and sliding a hand up the inside of his thigh.
Seonghwa’s thighs close tightly around Yunho’s hand, out of instinct or hypersensitivity, he can’t be sure. Yunho pries them back open, spreading his legs so that he can watch Seonghwa’s hole clench, staring at his cum dripping out from Seonghwa’s tender hole. He moves his hand higher, ghosting a couple fingers over Seonghwa’s slick entrance.
“Yunho-hyung,” Seonghwa protests, his voice slightly hoarse. “Hyung-ah, I’m… sensitive…”
“I know, honey,” Yunho says softly, pressing the tip of one finger against Seonghwa’s hole, pushing some of his cum back inside. Seonghwa keens, twitching against the bed, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Yunho’s hair, desperate for something to hold on to as Yunho continues to work his body. “Are you satisfied, baby? You want hyung to make you cum one more time?” Yunho pushes his finger in deeper, the squelch of the lube and his own cum so disgusting and so hot.
“I—I can’t…” Seonghwa mumbles. He’s shaking.
“You can,” Yunho says softly, adding another finger and pressing gently against Seonghwa’s prostate. He knows exactly where it is, now, and he will do very dangerous things with that information. “You can cum again for hyung.”
“I can’t,” Seonghwa whimpers again, but his body is taking Yunho’s fingers eagerly, and he’s pushing his hips back into Yunho’s hand. Yunho knows it feels good, Seonghwa just clearly isn’t used to being stimulated this much. He kind of wants to kill whoever fucked Seonghwa before and didn’t ever let him feel like this. Seonghwa deserves to be worshipped, deserves to come over and over again as many times as he wants.
“Yes you can, baby. I know you want to,” Yunho says, pushing with his fingers inward, towards Seonghwa’s belly, massaging his prostate with the pads of his fingers.
“Oh, Yunho-hyung,” Seonghwa moans, arching his back before collapsing back on the bed, one hand twisted in the comforter, the other tugging hard on Yunho’s hair. Yunho keeps one hand pressed into Seonghwa’s thigh, holding him open and forcing Seonghwa to take his fingers deeper. There are tears in his eyes, and when Yunho makes him feel really good, he squeezes his eyes shut and they trickle down the sides of his face, taking the remnants of his mascara with them. “Hyungie, it feels… good…” Seonghwa whines, clenching around Yunho’s fingers again.
“I know, baby,” Yunho says. “I’ll make you feel like this as many times as you want, honey.”
“…Okay…” Seonghwa manages to get out, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and chewing on it.
Yunho lets go of Seonghwa’s thigh, letting Seonghwa close his legs around his arm, using it as leverage as he ruts up against Yunho’s hand.
“There’s my good boy,” Yunho murmurs. “Use my fingers, tell me what feels good.”
“Everything,” Seonghwa whimpers. “Everything, hyung, just keep touching me, please don’t stop—”
“Alright,” Yunho says softly, curling his fingers and watching Seonghwa writhe underneath him. His fingers and his wrist are cramping, but the discomfort is negligible, irrelevant in his quest to make Seonghwa come again. “I’ll keep going as long as you want.” That makes Seonghwa whine, prying his eyes open to stare up at Yunho’s face.
“Why are you so—” he interrupts himself with a sniffle, wiping at his eyes and smearing his eyeliner all over his face— “Nice to me?”
Yunho looks away for a second so Seonghwa doesn’t see the endeared smile on his face. “Because I like you, honey,” he says when he turns back, thrusting his fingers in deeper, “And I want to make you feel good. It makes me feel good when you feel good.”
Seonghwa doesn’t reply—or can’t, maybe, he’s reaching down and squeezing the living daylights out of Yunho’s forearm, his knuckles turning white, but Yunho doesn’t stop moving his hand, and Seonghwa doesn’t stop grinding down onto it.
“Hyung, I—I’m gonna, mm—”
“Cum, baby,” Yunho urges, “Cum on my fingers, honey. That’s what they’re for.”
Seonghwa lets out a shrill whine and then he’s jerking, his back arching off the mattress, his entire body convulsing around Yunho’s hand. Yunho lets it go on a little longer before he stops moving his fingers, mainly because he’s almost certain the overstimulation may very well make Seonghwa pass out.
Seonghwa looks half unconscious already, his body limp and shaking as Yunho takes his fingers out, his eyes half closed. Yunho leans over him, running his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, brushing his thumb over Seonghwa’s cheek.
“You okay, baby?” he asks softly.
“I’m okay,” Seonghwa says in a small voice, his eyelashes fluttering as he tries to look up at Yunho. “I feel good.” Yunho presses a kiss to his temple. Seonghwa manages to lift his arms up weakly and loop his arms around Yunho’s neck. “Did you mean what you said?”
“I said a lot of things, baby, you’ll have to be more specific,” Yunho chides, squeezing Seonghwa’s hip gently. There’s that baby, again. He’s still saying it, even now that they’ve finished. He supposes it stuck.
Seonghwa bites his lip, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “That… you like me…” he says, his eyes darting around the room.
It is possibly the silliest thing Yunho has ever been asked. He just fucked Seonghwa’s brains out, damn near sprained his wrist to make him come again, and here is Seonghwa, asking Yunho if he likes him. But he’s too pretty to be anything but sweet to, his big eyes so earnest and so sparkly as he stares up at Yunho.
“I like you, Seonghwa,” Yunho replies. Seonghwa must be able to feel his sincerity, because he blushes. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Yunho says softly.
It takes some light chiding from Yunho and some mild grumbling from Seonghwa, but eventually he manages to pull Seonghwa up into a sitting position. “Let me take your makeup off, then we’ll shower,” Yunho says. Seonghwa nods, but he seems reluctant to let Yunho go, clinging onto his fingers as Yunho climbs out of bed. “I’ll be right back,” Yunho reassures him, and Seonghwa lets him go with a quiet whine.
Yunho comes back with Seonghwa’s makeup wipes and kneels across from Seonghwa. Seonghwa sits criss-cross in front of him, closing his eyes obediently and letting Yunho take his makeup off gently. Yunho wipes off his eye makeup (he does look so pretty with it smeared around his eyes, the lines his tears carved through his mascara) and then swipes another wipe over his lips to get the faint remains of whatever of his lipstick didn’t end up on Yunho’s face or in the comforter. When he’s done, he leans in and kisses Seonghwa gently. Seonghwa’s eyes fly open, then close again as he wraps his hand around the back of Yunho’s neck, kissing him deeply.
“I have to get you in the shower,” Yunho whispers when he pulls away, pressing his forehead against Seonghwa’s.
“Can I just kiss you instead?” Seonghwa whispers back. He doesn’t wait for a response, just leans in again and presses his lips against Yunho’s. Yunho kisses him back, until he doesn’t, and he’s faced with a very pouty Seonghwa when he breaks away again.
“Come on, honey,” he says softly. Shit. He’s going to have to stop with these pet names, but they come out so easily. “You’ll feel better when you’re clean.”
“I feel good now,” Seonghwa protests.
“Baby,” Yunho says. Seonghwa lets out a soft sigh.
“I’m not going to be able to walk,” Seonghwa says quietly, blushing again.
“I know,” Yunho says, forgetting to disguise his cockiness for the first time all evening, and Seonghwa’s mouth drops open a millimeter. He doesn’t bother apologizing; he’s not sorry, anyway, so he just gets off the bed and scoops Seonghwa into his arms, carrying him into the bathroom. Seonghwa bites gently on his chest.
Yunho sets Seonghwa down on the counter. Seonghwa shivers when his skin touches the countertop and props himself up with his hands, watching Yunho with interest as he turns the shower on. Yunho comes back over to him and Seonghwa wraps his arms around Yunho’s neck, staring down at him, his gaze so heavy. He threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of Yunho’s neck.
“I missed you,” Seonghwa whispers. Yunho places a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently.
“I missed you when you were standing right in front of me,” Yunho whispers back. “I missed you even when you were with me.”
“You should have just told me,” Seonghwa says. “It would have hurt a lot less.”
“I think that’s what I was scared of,” Yunho admits. “Knowing it would hurt was easier than hoping that it wouldn’t.” Seonghwa leans down to kiss him. “Come on,” Yunho says when he pulls away, lifting Seonghwa off the counter and helping Seonghwa into the shower. He seems very pleased with himself when he’s able to stand up without falling over.
Yunho washes Seonghwa’s body gently, top to bottom, careful around his tender spots—between his thighs, the insides of his biceps, his throat. There are finger-shaped bruises between Seonghwa’s legs, around his hips, and Yunho caresses them gently, tracing their outlines with his finger. He likes that he left a mark on Seonghwa, but he feels guilty for hurting him, even if it was unintentional, even if it was because he was making Seonghwa feel good.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and Seonghwa gives him a soft smile.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I did it, too.” He points at Yunho’s legs, and there they are: five crescent-shaped deep purple bruises on each of his thighs, near his knees, from Seonghwa’s nails when Yunho pulled him on top of him and he tried to get his balance.
“I guess we’re even, then,” he says. Seonghwa nods once, brushing his fingers over Yunho’s cheek.
Yunho drops to his knees, carefully prying Seonghwa’s thighs apart. Seonghwa whines softly, bracing himself against Yunho’s body, trembling when Yunho wipes slowly between his legs. He does the best he can to get every last trace of their mess off of him, trying not to press too hard or linger too long. Seonghwa whimpers quietly when Yunho swipes gently over his tender hole, squeezing Yunho’s shoulders as he tries not to fall over. He knows it’s agonizing for Seonghwa, but he has to be sure. When he’s done, Yunho kisses the inside of his thigh, getting back to his feet slowly.
Yunho turns Seonghwa around so that he can shampoo his hair, working his fingers gently. Seonghwa is obedient, lets him do it without a fuss, sighing softly in contentment. Yunho nudges him back under the showerhead to rise off.
After, when Yunho goes to wash his own hair, Seonghwa reaches for him, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.
“Can I?” Seonghwa asks, putting his hand out for the shampoo, and Yunho nods, handing it to him.
Seonghwa reaches up and massages his fingers into Yunho’s scalp, his tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration. It feels good. Yunho isn’t exactly touch-starved, but he’s always so focused on taking care of his partners that he forgets to take care of himself. Seonghwa must have figured out the same thing, or maybe he just notices how eagerly Yunho leans into his touch, because after he pushes Yunho under the showerhead to rinse his hair out, he squeezes Yunho’s hand and drops onto his knees.
Even in all his fantasizing, Yunho had never really pictured this. His fantasies always revolved around the things he could do to Seonghwa. He hadn’t ever considered that Seonghwa might want to do things to him, too.
“Seonghwa,” Yunho says softly. Seonghwa has both hands on Yunho’s thighs to brace himself as he stares up at him, a hint of something fiery and wild in his eyes.
“Can I do this?” Seonghwa asks, wrapping a hand around Yunho’s soft cock. He feels himself stiffen immediately, and he’s not sure what does him in. It could be Seonghwa’s hands on him, or it could be the sight of Seonghwa on his knees for him. Most likely, it’s both.
“You don’t have to,” Yunho says. Seonghwa gives him a soft smile.
“I want to,” Seonghwa says. “You made me cum twice, and you only came once, so…”
“That’s not why I did it,” Yunho protests weakly. He’s growing in Seonghwa’s hand and they can both feel it.
“I know,” Seonghwa says. He bites his lip. “I’m good at it,” he adds. Well, yeah. But he could be terrible at it, and Yunho would still love every second of it. Why is he fighting this?
“Only if it’s not too much…” Yunho says, still unsure. “I know you’re tired, baby.”
“I think I can handle sucking one dick,” Seonghwa says flatly, surprising Yunho with his crassness.
“Well… okay,” Yunho says, finally acquiescing, and Seonghwa gives him a pleased little smirk.
Seonghwa takes the tip of Yunho’s dick in his mouth without ceremony, but it is perhaps one of the most magnificent sights Yunho has ever seen. He’s still not fully hard, but with Seonghwa’s warm mouth wrapped around him, it takes only a few more moments for him to stiffen completely. Seonghwa pulls back to lick at the tip, tonguing his slit, and then licks a wide stripe from Yunho’s base back to his tip. Yunho moans softly, tangling his hands in Seonghwa’s wet hair, more to keep himself upright than for anything else.
When Seonghwa takes all of him into his mouth, working his jaw around him, Yunho lets out a faint sigh. “That feels good, baby,” he says softly, stroking Seonghwa’s hair. Seonghwa hollows his cheeks, reaching up to run the pads of his fingers over Yunho’s balls as he takes him deeper. Yunho’s hips jerk forward, overwhelmed by the heat of Seonghwa’s mouth, the feeling of his tongue on his shaft.
He is good at it. As Seonghwa continues to suck him off, using his lips and jaw and tongue and teeth, Yunho groans, dropping one hand to Seonghwa’s jaw, caressing the side of his face. “You’re so pretty like this,” Yunho whispers, and Seonghwa digs his teeth in, just a little. It really doesn’t matter what Seonghwa does; he could make Yunho come just from being in his mouth alone, but he’s good at working Yunho’s body, good at noticing the subtle changes in Yunho’s movements, the way his muscles tense, the sounds he makes. He lets Yunho tell him what he wants not in words, but in every other way. Put simply, it’s the best blow job Yunho has ever had.
“Honey, I’m gonna cum,” Yunho murmurs. “You’re perfect, baby.” He’s thrusting as lightly as he can into Seonghwa’s mouth. Seonghwa swallows him even deeper, looking Yunho in the eyes as he comes down his throat. Yunho’s vision goes white, and he reaches blindly for shower wall to steady himself, trying to remember how to breathe as Seonghwa takes him out of his mouth and gets unsteadily to his feet again. He steps closer and puts his hands on Yunho’s shoulders, steadying him.
“Did you like it?” he asks, looking up at Yunho through his lashes. Yunho wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him closer.
“Of course I liked it,” Yunho says. “I like everything you do.” Seonghwa doesn’t know what to do with that, and he turns pink, looking away.
“That’s not a real answer,” he grumbles. Yunho smiles down at him endearingly.
“I liked it, Seonghwa,” Yunho murmurs. “You are good at that,” he adds, caressing his side, and Seonghwa kisses him again, easily, naturally, like it’s a habit or a reflex. Yunho thinks he could kiss Seonghwa forever and never get tired of it.
Yunho turns around to turn the shower off and steps out of the shower, drying himself off. Seonghwa stares at him unabashedly. It almost makes him feel shy. He towels Seonghwa off carefully, thoroughly, getting his armpits and the back of his knees and the insides of his elbows, too.
“Alright, now, be careful,” Yunho says as he helps Seonghwa out of the shower. Seonghwa pushes lightly on his chest in mock protest, but he still leans heavily into Yunho’s body as they walk back into the room. Seonghwa props himself up against the dresser as Yunho goes back over to the bed, pulling the comforter off the bed and crumpling it into a ball, which he throws onto a random chair in the corner of the room.
“They’re going to be mad at us for ruining the duvet…” Seonghwa says faintly from behind him.
“I think you ruined the duvet,” Yunho says cheekily. It is Seonghwa’s makeup, tears, spit, sweat, cum all over it. Yunho supposes he contributed a little of his own of the last two. Seonghwa huffs. “It’s okay, I’ll pay for it,” he says, going back to Seonghwa.
“You don’t have to,” Seonghwa says quietly. “It’s my mess.”
“It’s okay. It’s my fault, anyway,” Yunho replies. There’s no arguing with that. He drops onto his haunches so that he can rummage through Seonghwa’s suitcase, sprawled open on the floor. “What do you want to wear?”
“Is my tour shirt in there?” Seonghwa asks, peering over him. Yunho digs around until he finds it, handing it to him from the ground. Seonghwa pulls it over his head. It’s big, falling just past the tops of his thighs. “What do you need?”
“Just some boxers,” Yunho replies. He can throw his clothes from yesterday back on in the morning. Seonghwa’s clothes wouldn’t fit him, anyway.
“Just wear whatever,” Seonghwa says, gesturing broadly, and Yunho grabs a random pair to pull on. He only has a small heart attack over wearing Seonghwa’s boxers.
“Bed?” Yunho asks when he gets back to his feet. Seonghwa nods, and Yunho picks him up and carries him over to it, even though it really isn’t necessary. Seonghwa doesn’t protest, just leans into him until Yunho sets him down. He watches from on top of the sheets as Yunho turns the lights off, save for the lamp by the bed, before climbing in after him. Yunho lays flat on his back and Seonghwa clings onto him immediately, resting his head on Yunho’s chest and throwing a leg across his waist.
“Yunho,” Seonghwa says, turning his head up to stare at him. “Are you always… like… that?”
“Like what?” Yunho asks, pulling Seonghwa on top of him. He knows what Seonghwa means, but he wants to hear him say it. Seonghwa rests his chin on Yunho’s chest as he looks up at him.
“So, like…” he pauses, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks about what he wants to say. “Like… I don’t know, generous?”
Generous is a new one. Only Seonghwa would come up with the word generous to describe Yunho caring more about Seonghwa coming than himself.
“Yeah,” Yunho says. “I mean, usually. But with you, it’s different. It’s like…” He rubs his thumbs into the small of Seonghwa’s back. “I just think that’s what you deserve, that’s all. And I can make it happen, so why wouldn’t I?”
“All this time, I thought you just wanted to fuck me,” Seonghwa says softly.
“I did. I do. I will, again, if you want,” Yunho says. “Whenever you want.”
“I know,” Seonghwa says. “That’s what I mean. Usually, when I do it, it’s a lot more… one-sided? And not on my side, either. Guys like my body because they can get off to it. No one’s ever…” He hesitates, chewing on his lip. “What I’m trying to say is, no one’s ever made me cum like that before.”
Yunho tries not to let his smugness show on his face as he squeezes Seonghwa’s hip. “Yeah, well, I could kill every guy you’ve ever been with that hasn’t made you feel like that,” he says. He slides his hand up under Seonghwa’s shirt, grabbing his ass.
“Relax,” Seonghwa says, but he’s blushing again.
Yunho reaches up to cup Seonghwa’s face with his free hand, tilting it up toward him so he can kiss him again.
“I can’t believe I almost didn’t get to kiss you like this,” he says when he breaks away.
“You would have,” Seonghwa says, sounding very sure of himself. Yunho raises his eyebrows. “Eventually. I have a lot better lines than the ones I used tonight,” Seonghwa elaborates. “And I have other outfits, too. That are more revealing.” He pauses. “I can be very persuasive,” he adds.
“Hmm,” Yunho says, his mind spinning in circles around the realization that Seonghwa has wanted him this whole time, too, that Seonghwa wanted him to fall head over heels into his bed. He puts both hands up Seonghwa’s shirt, his hands circling his waist. “So you’re saying that I’m easy?”
“I’m saying that it didn’t take me wearing a baby tee and shredded jeans to tempt you into telling me how you feel,” Seonghwa says. He says it like he’s joking, but Yunho knows he’s being serious.
Yunho kisses the top of Seonghwa’s head. That says everything he needs to say, he hopes.
“What kind of baby tee?”
“It has an angel on it.”
“Sounds cute. Can you wear it anyway?”
“Sure, Yunho. Whatever you want.” He’s teasing. It feels good to be able to joke around with Seonghwa again, to talk to him normally, to not hide. Seonghwa was right, all along, he usually is. He was hiding.
“What do we tell the boys?” Yunho asks. Seonghwa buries his face in his chest. He’s exhausted, Yunho knows.
“They already know,” Seonghwa says, his voice muffled.
Yunho thinks about that for a moment. Huh. So they do. In retrospect, it makes sense that if Seonghwa knew he was avoiding him, everyone else would have noticed, too. “How’d you find out?” he asks.
“A couple weeks ago, San came into my room and said, ‘Hyung, Yunho looks like he wants to eat you.’”
Yunho is speechless. “Oh,” he says faintly.
“You do, you know. Look like you want to eat me.”
“Well, that’s because I do want to eat you.”
“Okay, Yunho…” Seonghwa mumbles against his skin. He’s going to pass out soon. Yunho doesn’t even want to know what time it is. He reaches to turn the lamp off and kisses Seonghwa’s hair again.
He’s perfect, he’s here, and he’s his.