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The set is buzzing with the sounds of staff bustling around and chatting, backed by a generic pop song filtering through the overhead speakers. In the middle of the chaos, Yuma sits on a couch, bored out of his mind. The magazine's photographer paused the shoot to adjust the lighting what feels like a million years ago, and every second spent staying still with nothing to do has Yuma closer to vibrating out of his skin.
Euijoo is standing behind the couch, one hand resting on Yuma's shoulder. He's too far for Yuma to easily reach, but the photographer arranged Nicholas on the floor at Yuma's feet, and he's leaning his face lazily against Yuma's thigh. Yuma barely has to move his hand to poke Nicholas in the cheek. Nicholas flinches, and Yuma smirks to himself and does it again. Nicholas looks up at him with narrowed eyes. Yuma widens his eyes innocently back.
Nicholas huffs slightly and makes the mistake of looking away from Yuma. Yuma contemplates the top of his head for a second before throwing caution to the wind and tickling the hair at the nape of Nicholas's neck. Predictably, Nicholas slaps his hand. Yuma snickers and does it again.
This time when Nicholas tries to smack Yuma, Yuma pulls his hand away too quickly. Nicholas frowns and twists around, trying to grab at Yuma's hands while Yuma attempts to touch Nicholas's hair again. After a flurry of movement, they both still, lingering in a standoff with their eyes fixed on each other. The moment stretches on, Yuma studying Nicholas, waiting for the split-second when his guard is down.
Not yet… not yet… now.
But Nicholas catches Yuma's hand, gripping it triumphantly and leaning in to nip playfully at the bare skin of Yuma's thigh, just below the hem of his shorts. Yuma barely feels Nicholas's teeth before the sound of a growl cuts through the air.
"Get your teeth off of him," Euijoo snarls.
Yuma and Nicholas both freeze. The staff closest to them fall silent and look over. Yuma cranes his neck to look up at Euijoo in confusion. Euijoo's face is flushed, visible even through his heavy makeup, and his fingers are digging into Yuma's shoulder so hard it hurts.
Nicholas lets go of Yuma's hand and leans away, hands in the air. "He touched me first!" he shoots back. His eyes dart sideways toward the staff pointedly.
Euijoo follows Nicholas's gaze and seems to come back to himself a little, aggression slipping off his face. He visibly takes a slow breath in and out, and his grip on Yuma's shoulder relaxes slightly. "Just watch yourself," he mutters.
"No worries," Nicholas says, his tone placating. He drops his hands, but he doesn't settle his face back on Yuma's leg, instead careful to keep space between them. The staff look away, probably chalking whatever that was up to boys messing around.
But Yuma's only ever heard Euijoo sound like that once before. He can't stop staring, and when Euijoo looks at him, Yuma lets how baffled he is show on his face. Euijoo grimaces and squeezes Yuma's shoulder, gently this time. Yuma waits, thinking Euijoo might tell him off for bothering Nicholas as well. At least that would make this feel a little more normal.
But Euijoo doesn't, and that’s interesting.
Very interesting.
A makeup artist descends on Euijoo with a handheld fan and more powder, and Yuma watches her deftly cover up Euijoo’s flush. His cheeks are pretty red—maybe he’s in rut? Yuma mentally calculates the time since Euijoo’s last rut, when he bent Yuma over one of the armchairs in his hotel room on the last stop of their tour and fucked him while Fuma watched. He supposes it’s possible, although it’s a little early. He tries to catch Euijoo’s eye again to check if he’s all right, but Euijoo is studiously keeping his gaze on the wall.
A few minutes after that, the photoshoot finally resumes. They settle back into posing easily, Nicholas draping himself over Yuma’s bare knees as directed without any issues, but there’s definitely a strange tension lingering. The air feels thick with it by the time everyone is satisfied with the shots and Euijoo and Yuma are waved away so that Nicholas can take his individual photos.
They’re supposed to be heading to the green room for a break and a costume change, but Euijoo makes eye contact with Yuma as they’re walking and inclines his head. Yuma doesn’t hesitate to follow him down a side hallway, notably away from the green room.
“So, uh,” Yuma says as he trots to keep up with Euijoo’s long legs striding down the hall and around a corner. “What was that earlier?”
Euijoo doesn’t answer. He pushes open a door, seemingly at random, and peers in before grabbing Yuma by his arm and pulling him into—a storage closet, judging by the brief glance Yuma gets of it before he’s distracted by Euijoo rubbing his cheek against the scent gland on Yuma’s neck.
“You’re gonna scent me? Right now?” Yuma says, even as he tilts his head to let him.
Euijoo hums and continues scenting him intensely, as if he actually wants it to have a lasting effect through their suppressants. He’s applying so much pressure that his makeup is probably smearing onto Yuma’s neck, but Yuma doesn’t care. It feels like Euijoo is staking his claim on him. Growling at Nicholas in front of a whole room of staff, dragging Yuma away to scent him… Euijoo has told him before that he thinks of Yuma as his, but Yuma never realized how heady it would be to see that in action. Yuma’s cock is half-hard with the satisfaction of it already.
“You kinda have to admit it was weird to react like that,” Yuma says, breathless, fishing for more evidence of Euijoo's possessiveness. He arches his hips up, hoping Euijoo will give him something to rub against, but Euijoo keeps infuriating space between them. “Fuma’s not even here.”
That makes Euijoo emerge from Yuma’s neck and frown at him. “So what?”
“So…” Yuma says, drawing out the vowel, “the last time I heard you growl like that, it was because I was fucking Fuma.”
Euijoo tilts his head, one eyebrow raised a hairsbreadth. “And?”
“And this wasn’t like that? Nico and I mess around all the time. It doesn’t mean anything,” Yuma says. Euijoo’s nostrils flare. Yuma bites back a grin. He’s got him. “You’re the one who made it weird. I thought we were being chill, keeping this to ourselves. Weren’t we?”
Euijoo looks somewhere between amused and pissed off, biting his lip like he’s not sure if he’s about to start yelling or burst out laughing. “You think it’s fine if Nicholas bites you?”
“Yes?” Yuma says innocently.
“Huh,” Euijoo says. “Wanna try saying that one more time?”
Yuma’s heart races. The words are undoubtedly a threat—but of what, Yuma’s not sure. He’s desperate to find out. He takes a breath, locking eyes with Euijoo, and says, “It’s not a big deal if Nicholas wants to bite me.”
The next thing Yuma knows, Euijoo has pinned him face-first against the nearest wall, one arm twisted behind him, Euijoo’s weight pressing against him. The air is pushed from Yuma’s lungs, the shelf next to them shaking with the force of their impact.
“Insolent little alpha,” Euijoo growls in Yuma’s ear. “Do you not know the meaning of the word mine?”
Yuma’s cock is fully hard now, desperate desire flooding his body. He shakes his head, making a token struggle against Euijoo’s grip. “Um, I dunno?” he says, pressing his ass back to find that Euijoo is hard, too. “I guess not?”
“I know you’re just saying that because you want me to show you,” Euijoo says, punctuating the sentence by pulling his hips away and shoving Yuma harder into the wall. Yuma whimpers. “You’re lucky I’m nice.”
Yuma is about to snark back that he doesn’t want Euijoo to be nice, but then Euijoo is undoing the button on Yuma’s shorts and sliding his hand under the waistband of Yuma’s underwear. He wraps his hand around Yuma’s cock, and all coherent thought flies out of Yuma’s head. He thought maybe he’d work Euijoo up, bait him a little bit and then reap the rewards later, not that Euijoo would actually touch him here. It’s not like it’s a rule that they can’t do anything without Fuma present, but they never have before, and so Yuma thought… He didn’t consider…
Euijoo strokes Yuma’s cock slowly, his grip loose and teasing. “You’re so hard for me, Yuma-chan,” Euijoo murmurs. “It’s cute. Would you have gotten this hard if Nicholas got his teeth in your thigh?”
Yuma shrugs as best he can when he’s trapped beneath Euijoo. “Would it make you jealous if I said yes?”
He feels more than hears the rumble of Euijoo's growl in his chest. “Yes,” Euijoo says, and Yuma’s cock twitches in Euijoo's hand. Euijoo's grip tightens, and he speeds up, his strokes too rough without any lube to ease the way. “But I can't expect any better. I know how much of a slut you are. Any mouth will do, won’t it?”
Yuma gasps and whines in disbelief. He should be insulted, but Euijoo's words betray that he's been thinking about Yuma sleeping with other people, and the way it clearly bothers him only stokes the fire in Yuma’s belly. It's pathetic how fast the desire to tease Euijoo leaves Yuma, overwhelmed entirely by his need to make sure Euijoo knows the truth.
“It won't,” Yuma argues. “I'm your slut. Yours and Fuma-san’s.”
Euijoo makes a doubtful noise, and Yuma almost sobs with the frustration of it. He wriggles ineffectually underneath Euijoo. He’s desperate for more, riding the line of discomfort, and like this, there’s nothing he can do to make it better. He has to hope that Euijoo will somehow take pity on him.
“What do I have to do to show you?” Yuma asks. “I'll do it, I'll do whatever you want.”
“Of course you will,” Euijoo says, his dismissive tone going straight to Yuma’s cock. Euijoo keeps going, his hand still rough on Yuma’s cock, and Yuma closes his eyes tightly, whimpering involuntarily. The noise turns into a moan when Euijoo presses his hips against Yuma’s ass. “There you go, that's my little cockslut.”
Yuma nods, arching his back so he can feel Euijoo's cock against him, wishing Euijoo could fuck him right here. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, yours, I promise.”
Yuma makes a noise of protest when Euijoo takes his hand off his cock—that's the opposite of what he wanted. But then Euijoo cups his palm below Yuma’s mouth and orders, “Spit.”
Yuma hurries to obey, letting his saliva drip onto Euijoo’s palm. He waits, but Euijoo doesn’t move.
“More than that,” Euijoo says impatiently. “C’mon, I know who you’re used to fucking.”
“Jesus,” Yuma breathes. He obeys, adding more spit to Euijoo’s hand until it’s pooling, threatening to slip over the side of his palm. Only then does Euijoo make a satisfied noise and wrap his hand around Yuma’s cock again. The sweet, wet glide of his first few strokes feels so good that a moan rips its way out of Yuma’s throat despite his best intentions.
“Shhhh,” Euijoo says. “Nobody else needs to know how pathetic you are for this, do they?”
Yuma shakes his head, frantic. “No, no,” he says. “Just you.”
“Good,” Euijoo says. His hand speeds up again, setting a brutal pace. “Tell me when you’re going to come.”
Yuma nods, biting his lip. The easy slide of Euijoo’s hand is making Yuma’s cock leak now, precum mixing with his own spit, and Yuma can’t help but imagine it’s Fuma’s wet heat surrounding him. He feels dizzy already, tipping closer to the edge with every stroke. In any other circumstance, it would be too fast, but in this one, where they need to get back to work soon, Yuma doesn’t have to feel guilty for letting himself feel good.
It doesn't take long at all before Yuma is biting his own lip, trying to hold back even as Euijoo relentlessly works his cock. “I'm close,” he admits, distantly aware of how bad it would be if he came in these clothes. He's afraid Euijoo might stop because of it. “Euijoo-kun, please.”
“Already?” Euijoo teases, not letting up at all. “You gonna come for me? Do you want me to get my mouth on you, make sure I swallow it all so you don't make a mess on your nice outfit?”
“Fuck, yes,” Yuma breathes. Of course Euijoo had a plan, Euijoo is so smart. “Yes, please.”
Yuma sobs in spite of himself when Euijoo takes his hand away and steps back. Yuma takes a shuddering breath and then uses his arms to turn himself over, still leaning against the wall. Euijoo is standing there, watching him with an amused smirk on his face. Yuma immediately realizes he’s not getting what he wants. He knows Euijoo's games too well.
Yuma lets his head fall back against the wall in defeat. “You're not gonna let me come, are you?”
Euijoo shakes his head. “We can’t risk the stylists’ clothes, even if they are obscene,” he says, tugging at the hem of Yuma’s shorts. Yuma follows his movement with his eyes, watching as Euijoo straightens Yuma’s underwear and does his fly up for him. For an insane moment, he thinks about knocking Euijoo’s hand away and touching himself, his hand twitching slightly before sense filters back in.
Euijoo catches the aborted movement and gives Yuma a warning look. “Be good,” he says. “If you are, I’ll let you suck me off later.”
The thought of that does nothing to help Yuma not come in his pants. “Wait,” he says, his mouth watering so much he has to swallow. “I wanna do it now.”
“No, you can’t mess up your makeup mid-shoot,” Euijoo admonishes. Yuma gives him an incredulous look—Euijoo’s makeup doesn’t actually look that bad, but Euijoo grimaces in response, clearly aware of his hypocrisy. “Besides, you’ll come if you get my cock in your mouth, and what are we gonna do if you knot?”
Yuma huffs. Euijoo’s got him there. He thinks of the many times he’s sworn to himself he’s not going to have sex at work again and almost laughs aloud. “How am I even supposed to go back out there now?” he asks.
Euijoo winces, glancing down at the obvious bulges in both their pants. “Yeah, I probably should’ve found a bathroom instead. Then we’d have cold water. And somewhere for me to wash my hands.”
They make eye contact, and there’s a loaded pause before they both laugh. “Were you feeling a little desperate? Is your rut getting to you?” Yuma teases.
“Shut up, no,” Euijoo shoots back. “I’m not in rut.”
It takes a second before Euijoo’s words sink in. “You’re not?” Yuma asks, surprised.
Euijoo grimaces, clearly regretting admitting that. “No.”
So all that possessiveness was solely because of Yuma. Yuma grins, giddy satisfaction puffing up his chest. “I see,” he says smugly. “Got it.”
“You’d better,” Euijoo mumbles, ducking his head and avoiding eye contact.
Yuma laughs again, amused by Euijoo being shy after how he just acted. “I think there’s a bathroom closer to the green room,” he offers.
Euijoo nods. “Okay, I’ll go first,” he says. “Give you time to calm down.”
Yuma watches as Euijoo visibly collects himself, taking deep breaths and shaking out his limbs. He grins lazily at Euijoo when Euijoo gives him one last look, and Euijoo makes a low sound in the back of his throat. He closes the distance between them and kisses Yuma hard, so fast that Yuma barely manages to kiss back before Euijoo is by the door, shooting a wink at Yuma before slipping out.
Yuma slumps against the wall, his lips tingling. He lets himself think of Euijoo’s deep voice and sure hands for another thirty seconds before he forces himself to think of things that are decidedly not sexy at all. He’s honestly surprised with how quickly he manages it—probably thanks to picturing the gritty details of the chewing out the protocol team would give him if they found out.
The staff don’t find out anything. Yuma is impressed with how unaffected he seems once he gets to the bathroom and regards himself in the mirror, and when he gets to the green room, Euijoo looks normal as well. He’s already wearing his next outfit and sitting down to get his hair and makeup touched up. He nods when Yuma comes in, and Yuma nods back.
There’s a thrill hidden beneath Yuma’s skin as he changes and chats to the stylists, tucked there along with the knowledge that he’s Euijoo’s, that Euijoo wanted to be sure Yuma knew it. It’s even hotter to have a secret than it would be for Euijoo to claim him in front of everyone, though Yuma does spend an idle minute thinking about Euijoo fucking him on the couch where they were taking photos before he gets ahold of himself.
While the staff don’t seem to notice anything awry, the illusion of secrecy is shattered the second Nicholas walks into the room. He sniffs as he settles into a makeup chair next to Yuma, and Yuma curses internally. Nicholas has always had a stupidly sensitive nose.
Nicholas raises his eyebrows at Yuma in the mirror. Yuma looks away, only for his phone to vibrate in his hand a moment later. Nicholas has texted him something in Mandarin, punctuated by an emoji in a face mask.
Yuma resists for a minute, shooting Nicholas a glare instead of putting his text into Papago. But he can decipher enough of the message that he’s pretty sure he knows what it says, and his curiosity about whether he’s right gets the best of him.
You reek like juju and sex. Get a room hahaha.
Yuma’s heart rate increases. If Nicholas can tell, then can other people?
Is it obvious? Yuma texts back.
Nicholas looks sideways at him when he reads the text. Yuma gives him an urgent look, and Nicholas huffs and shakes his head.
I know too much about your scent 🙄
Yuma relaxes. That’s true enough—they’ve hooked up enough times that Nicholas would know what a turned-on Yuma smells like, even though the last time was years ago now.
But so much for keeping this to themselves the way he and Fuma and Euijoo agreed. If Nicholas knows, he’ll almost certainly tell the rest of the pack.
pls keep it a secret, he sends, just in case Nicholas is feeling benevolent today. He watches as Nicholas reads the text and then looks up at Yuma, an expression on his face that Yuma can't quite read and doesn't think he wants to.
Yuma is saved from having to continue that interaction by the staff calling him for his own individual shoot. He makes his escape gratefully, not daring to look back.
The shoot drags on for a long time after that. Yuma is restless, and the feeling of Euijoo's eyes on him more often than not only makes it worse. They keep it professional and get it done, though—no more bursts of possessive growling, and certainly no pulling each other into a shadowy corner to make out, no matter how much Yuma wants it.
By the time they're dismissed, Yuma is keyed up, anticipation buzzing under his skin. He changes back into his street clothes quickly, unable to stop wondering if he was good enough, if Euijoo will really reward him with his cock. Maybe Euijoo will let him go home with him. Maybe Fuma will be done with his schedules for the day, too, and they can—
Yuma is startled from his reverie by Euijoo's firm hand on his shoulder. “Come with me,” he says, steering Yuma out of the room and down the hallway. Yuma's heart lurches into overdrive, the tug of heat in the pit of his stomach almost as forceful as Euijoo's grip on him.
Euijoo leads Yuma through the hallways with purpose, heading what Yuma is pretty sure is deeper into the building. “Where are we going?” Yuma asks.
“Different bathroom,” Euijoo says. “I looked up the building plans during a break.”
That's so fucking endearing. Yuma shouldn't be able to feel so soft when he's this turned on, but he can't help it. It makes Yuma feel off-kilter, unsure what to do with all the feelings bubbling inside of him.
The bathroom Euijoo pulls them into is a nice one—spacious, clean, and most importantly, single-stall so the door locks behind them.
“This isn't very subtle,” Yuma says, teasing to cover up his emotions and the way he's physically vibrating with anticipation. “Nicholas noticed, and now he's gonna tell everyone, which is totally your fault.”
Euijoo shrugs. “He's covering for us, so I don't really think that's a problem,” he says. “But we still don't have much time.”
Euijoo fists his hand in the loose fabric of Yuma’s hoodie and drags him into a kiss. Yuma groans, shoving his hands underneath Euijoo’s shirt and his tongue into Euijoo’s mouth. He’s immediately fully hard again, and he pulls Euijoo against him, rolling his hips against Euijoo’s upper thigh.
“Please,” he says, breaking away from the kiss and tilting his head to expose his neck. Euijoo licks over his scent gland, and Yuma moans again. “Was I good?”
“You tell me,” Euijoo says, breathless.
Yuma drops to his knees, landing hard on the tile. He ignores the stinging pain, focused on undoing Euijoo’s fly. “I was,” he promises, freeing Euijoo’s cock. The sight of it, hard and wanting, the scent of him filling Yuma’s nose, makes Yuma feel out of his mind. He resists the urge to lick Euijoo’s cock, instead putting his hands on Euijoo’s hips and looking up at him with desperate eyes. “I need to get my mouth on you so bad. Please, please let me.”
Euijoo slides his hand into Yuma’s hair, petting gently. “Are you gonna come if I do?”
Yuma honestly isn’t sure he won’t. He shakes his head anyway, unable to stomach the thought of Euijoo denying him.
Euijoo’s grip tightens. “Are you lying?”
Yuma whimpers. “Maybe,” he says, leaning in anyway.
“You’re not going to come,” Euijoo orders. “Not before I do.”
Yuma nods. “I won’t, I won’t,” he promises. “Please.”
“Go ahead,” Euijoo says. Yuma makes a happy noise and licks an eager stripe up Euijoo’s cock, moaning at the salty taste of him. He sucks the head into his mouth, and Euijoo’s hand flexes on Yuma’s head. Yuma stays there, relishing the weight of him heavy on his tongue.
“There you go,” Euijoo murmurs.
Yuma starts to bob his head, taking even more of Euijoo into his mouth. It’s almost immediately too much—all the desire Yuma has been burying deep is overflowing, ready to burst out of him, his cock straining where it’s trapped in his jeans.
Yuma pulls off, gasping. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t, I’m gonna…”
“Is that all it takes?” Euijoo asks, amused. “Can’t my little cockslut do better than that?”
Yuma makes a frustrated noise. “I can,” he says, leaning back in to lick Euijoo’s cock again. He looks up through his eyelashes, watching Euijoo follow the movements of Yuma’s tongue with his eyes. He swirls it around the head of Euijoo’s cock, sloppy and wet, and then sucks him again. He groans around Euijoo’s cock, pleasure coiling in his gut immediately. He tries to push through it, but he can feel it building too quickly, and he has to break away again.
“God, you’re needy,” Euijoo says, watching Yuma with a tiny little smirk on his face that makes Yuma feel insane. “Can't believe I ever thought you'd consider someone else.”
Yuma shakes his head and dives back in for more. He’s determined to make Euijoo come with his mouth, wants to make him lose it just as much as Yuma is, wants to feel him come against Yuma’s tongue. But his own body won’t cooperate, too on edge, and he keeps having to break away and breathe through it.
“Please,” Yuma says. He licks spit and precum from his lips, looking up at Euijoo, hoping the visual and his words will help push Euijoo closer to the edge. “Please, Euijoo-kun, please give it to me. Want you to come in my mouth, wanna taste you.”
Euijoo tilts his head, looking infuriatingly calm. “How am I supposed to do that when you’re talking?”
“I can’t help it,” Yuma whines. “I’m too close, your cock feels so good.”
Euijoo rolls his eyes, which is so hot Yuma has to squeeze his eyes closed against another flood of pleasure. “Why don’t you stop trying so hard, then?” Euijoo asks, fisting Yuma’s hair hard and wrapping a hand around his own cock to guide it to Yuma’s mouth. Yuma lets his mouth drop open automatically. “Good boy,” Euijoo says as he pushes inside. “Keep being good while I do the work for you.”
Yuma groans and goes slack, letting Euijoo fuck his mouth. It’s overwhelming in a different way, all of Yuma’s senses flooded with Euijoo, but this way he doesn't have to think about anything but holding back from the edge. He just has to let Euijoo use him. He just has to be good for him.
“That's it,” Euijoo breathes, his thrusts coming faster. He doesn't stop even as Yuma chokes and his eyes well up, instead cupping Yuma's cheek in his palm, thumb pressing hard into his cheekbone in a mockery of a tender caress. “You take me so well. You're all mine, Yuma-chan.”
Yuma whines around his cock, digging his fingers into Euijoo's hips as if he could possibly drag him closer. Euijoo gasps, thrusts going erratic as he finally gives Yuma what he wants, flooding his mouth with the taste of him. Yuma swallows greedily, desperate for Euijoo to fill him up.
“Fuck,” Euijoo murmurs, hand sliding down Yuma's face, fingers tracing where Yuma's mouth is still stretched wide around him. Yuma thinks about what it would be like if Euijoo knotted now, wonders if he could take it, could let Euijoo keep him just like this, mouth open and straining for Euijoo. “Was that what you wanted?”
Yuma’s moan is muffled, his whole body burning. He chases Euijoo's cock with his mouth as Euijoo pulls out, waylaid by the painful tug of his hair where Euijoo's fingers are still tangled in it. It goes straight to his aching cock.
“Yes,” he says. “Fuck, Euijoo.”
Yuma drops his hands from Euijoo’s hips and shoves one down his own pants. He doesn't quite get his hand on his cock before Euijoo tugs his hair again. “Don't,” he orders.
Yuma freezes. “Please?” he says, hoping Euijoo just wants him to wait for verbal confirmation.
“No,” Euijoo says, releasing Yuma's hair and taking a step back.
“You're still not gonna let me?” Yuma asks, sounding pathetic even to his own ears.
Euijoo raises one eyebrow and gives a tiny shake of his head. He's already tucking himself back in and turning to look in the mirror. Yuma feels ignored and a little bit stupid on his knees, hand in his pants but not moving. It only makes his skin burn more.
“Fuma-san would let me come,” he complains.
“You think so?” Euijoo asks, fixing a stray piece of his hair. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket without looking at Yuma. “Should we ask him?”
“What?” Yuma asks. For a second he thinks Euijoo is joking, but then he hears the faint sound of a video call ringback tone from Euijoo’s phone. Euijoo turns toward Yuma, leaning his hip against the sink and smirking at him. Yuma stares back, wide-eyed.
“Euijoo-yah?” Fuma answers. The smirk slips off Euijoo’s face, replaced by a startled expression. He hurriedly brings the phone up and gives a stupid little wave to the front-facing camera. Yuma fails to bite back a laugh. Whatever Euijoo’s plan was, it clearly wasn’t for Fuma to actually answer the phone.
“Hyung,” Euijoo says, shooting Yuma a warning look. “You answered.”
“I thought it was weird of you to be calling when you should be on your way home,” Fuma says. “What are you doing?”
“Um,” Euijoo says, his cheeks turning pink. He fumbles with the phone, tapping the screen to flip the camera and aiming it at Yuma. “I, uh, had someone asking if he should be allowed to come.”
Yuma raises the hand that isn’t down his pants in the same little wave Euijoo just did. He gets another glare for his trouble.
“Ah,” Fuma says, low and thoughtful. “He looks wrecked. Did you do all that, Euijoo-yah?”
Euijoo hums a confirmation. “He’s torturing me, Fuma-san,” Yuma complains.
“Mmm, I see that,” Fuma says.
“He said you’d let him come,” Euijoo reports.
“Maybe I will,” Fuma says. “You’d better hurry home and find out.”
Yuma gasps in betrayal. “Fuma-san,” he whines. “No, please, I can’t, I can’t wait.”
“He hung up,” Euijoo says.
A wave of defeat nearly bowls Yuma over. If Fuma isn’t there to listen, he can’t beg his way out of this. It takes considerable effort to pull his hand out of his pants, the ache in his cock screaming at him to just touch himself, to let go and damn the consequences. Yuma wants to be good, he wants it more than anything, but it hurts, he’s not even sure he can stand up to leave, and Fuma said he was wrecked, which means it’s obvious what he just did. Yuma can’t go back out there—except he can, he can, everyone will knows he’s Euijoo’s, but fuck, he can’t think about that, he might come. He wants to so badly.
“Yuma,” Euijoo says, voice soft. “Yuma, are you crying?”
Euijoo is blurry as he kneels in front of Yuma, because apparently Yuma is, in fact, crying. He doesn’t know when that started. Euijoo wipes tears from Yuma’s cheeks with the sleeves of his shirt. “God,” he murmurs. “You’re so pretty. You’ve been so good for me.”
Yuma sobs, the sound tearing its way out of his chest. “I can’t do it. I can’t, Euijoo-kun, please.”
There’s hesitation on Euijoo’s face, making hope rise in Yuma’s chest in the second before they both jump at a loud bang on the door.
“The van is here,” Nicholas’s voice says from the other side. “Hurry the fuck up.”
Yuma shudders, hiccuping another sob. At least it’s only Nicholas. It would be so much worse if it was someone else. “Euijoo,” he says. One last hopeless plea.
“Yuma-chan,” Euijoo murmurs. He’s looking at Yuma so tenderly. “You can do it. I know you can, because it’s for me.”
Right. It’s for Euijoo. And for Fuma, waiting for them at home. Yuma sniffs hard and nods.
Euijoo stands up. “Time to go, baby,” he says. He helps Yuma to his feet and then over to the sink to splash cold water on his face. Yuma avoids eye contact with himself in the mirror, but he can’t help but see how flushed he is, how swollen his lips look. He puts up his hood and then glances over to see that Euijoo is watching him fondly. “Ready?”
Yuma adjusts himself in his pants, tugging his hoodie down lower. It’s a lot to ask of one garment, but it’ll have to do. “Ready.”
“I hate you,” Nicholas says as soon as Euijoo opens the bathroom door. Yuma hangs back, slipping out a moment later so he can trail behind them as they power walk down the hall. Sure, Nicholas already knows what they were doing in there, but Yuma doesn’t have to let him see.
“No, you don’t,” Euijoo says, sounding remarkably normal.
“I do,” Nicholas insists. “Don’t ever do this to me again.”
“See if I ever cover for you again when you sneak out to see your little boyfriend, then,” Euijoo says.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Euijoo gives Nicholas a triumphant look. Nicholas opens his mouth again, then snaps it shut, his shoulders hunching.
Yuma doesn’t have a single clue what they’re talking about, and he can’t be bothered to ask right now. His head is clearing slightly, the pain in his cock receding and leaving room for him to luxuriate in how claimed he feels. He ignores the glare Nicholas throws over his shoulder at him, too busy thinking about how thoroughly Euijoo is going to tear him apart when they get home. Fuma will be there, watching with the sexy fake indifference on his face that he’s so good at. Against his better judgment, Yuma daydreams about it all the way to the van.
Nicholas immediately claims the front seat, crowing about snoozing losers. Yuma doesn't care, because Euijoo is pulling Yuma into the back of the van next to him. He fusses over Yuma, taking the seatbelt from him when he pulls it over his shoulder and clicking it into place for him. Yuma lets it happen, his chest soft.
Euijoo takes Yuma's hand and threads their fingers together. Yuma leans into his side and lets the world around him fade away, until all that's left is Euijoo's hand in his and the warmth of Euijoo next to him. Desire still simmers under his skin, but it doesn't matter so much anymore. Like this, he feels settled. Taken care of.
Euijoo's.