Work Text:
Seongmo doesn't like Taeyang one bit. He knows three things about him, and meeting him tonight was the final straw.
One: Taeyang is an upperclassman, in his senior year, and Seongmo is a sophomore.
Two: Taeyang is his best friend's gorgeous best friend, that traitor Yechan who brought him to this party in the first place.
Three: Taeyang is a carbon copy of Seongmo. Like Yechan said he'd be, a Yechan who won't be alive long enough to say 'I told you so' if they don't leave this stupid college frat party in the next 5 minutes.
—<>—
Yechan ran off the second they got to the party, stopping only to give Seongmo a red solo cup filled with a drink called: 'it's so good, trust me, my buddy, Matthew made it.' Because, of course, he did after their pre-gaming in the dorm. Seongmo doesn't get paid enough to deal with this.
Seongmo gives up on the idea of calling his name on the floor before he even starts. The shitty pop songs are playing far too loud, and drunk people aren't any help. If the DJ, high off his balls, is playing 2000s music, one would think he'd play something good like 'Three Cheers' or 'Santi.' Maybe then his ears won't be 'FUTCT' in the morning.
Seongil could find him, but he's studying for his midterms right now, as Seongmo should be. But instead he's here, like a loser wallflower, nursing this jungle juice that tastes so strong and bitter he might cry.
Seongmo has a feeling he's going to be saying "I'm gonna kill Yechan" a lot more times tonight.
The Find My Phone digital leash backpack leads Seongmo into a bedroom with a slightly open door. The second he pushes on the door and opens his mouth to call for Yechan, a very feminine moan comes from the dark.
Absolutely not Yechan's voice. Fucking straight people, literally. "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?" Seongmo rolls his eyes, slamming the door shut. He takes to maneuvering around and ignoring the people on the floor until he finds a staircase.
Seongmo swallows the rest of his drink, hard, leaving the cup on a counter before squeezing by couples making out all over the steps. Whatever, man, he needs to get out of here.
His hands close around the handrail tightly, face surely flushed by now. He drags his fingertips on the hallway wall, the tingly sensation making him smile all toothy and gummy. He looks stupid, probably- lightweight problems.
Seongmo blinks hard; he has to focus here. Following the phone, he makes it to the last room of the house. A loud "you are so handsome" tells him he's in the right place, and that Yechan is even more drunk than before. Amazing. Just what he wanted to deal with at 1 am.
Seongmo half regrets the beers; he's at just the right level of tipsy drunk where he can have fun but won't be hung over in the morning. Which would be great if he wasn't at a party he didn't want to be at. He should stop sounding like a broken record. But Yechan hasn't heard him complain in a few minutes, so he still has a few more in him to give.
"Yechan-ah, I'm going." Seongmo turns the handle to the master bedroom, unlocked. The smell of weed hits him immediately. Imagine if cops burst in. Idiots, the whole lot of them.
The room is dim, one lamp on the nightstand and the moon being the only sources of light. There's the occasional lighter to light cigarettes and a blunt. If Seongmo gets cross-faded tonight, he might genuinely throw up.
Yechan gets up from the oval-circle the group is sitting in. He's wobbly on his feet, Maki holding his hand to help. "Seongmo! Where did you go? It's fine, you're here now, sit down." He makes his way over to the doorway Seongmo is leaning on.
Where did he go? The audacity. Where did Yechan disappear to in the 30 seconds after walking inside? Seongmo scoffs, taking Yechan's hand and plopping down, like a newborn baby deer, in the newly made space in the circle. Seongmo's lack of decorum when drunk is embarrassing, really.
Facing the door, Seongmo can really get a look at everyone. He knows everyone in Yechan's friend group; they've all hung out before, so there's no need for introductions. Seongmo waves hi, leaning back on his hands and crossing his legs because everyone else is.
"Do you want a hit?" Shota offers, extending the blunt to Seongmo, who shakes his head 'no.' Shota is the newest addition to the group. He started dating Jiung a few months ago. He's pretty cool, very chill when high. One of the better additions in his opinion.
"No thanks, Shota, just drinking tonight." Seongmo watches, dazed, as Shota passes it to Jiung, who passes it to Maki, and finally his eyes land on Taeyang. Dark red hair falling and framing his face perfectly when he runs his hand through it. Seongmo's face sours faster than he can control. Being that pretty should be a crime.
And he laughs. Taeyang laughs, making eye contact, shrugging his shoulders and inhaling. Three perfect smoke rings pop out, and Taeyang keeps looking at him. He's so irritating; Seongmo has no idea how they keep him around.
Seongmo rolls his eyes, breaking the eye contact first. "Yechan, I'm leaving with or without you. Have Maki take you back to the dorm, or his dorm. I don't care."
Yechan grabs his wrist before Seongmo can get up. If it was anyone else, his dick would have twitched, but you know, been there, done that. At that thought, Seongmo deflates internally. Oh, and if tonight couldn't go any less his way. He's horny drunk now. Seongmo will scream.
Yechan gets on his knees, hands clasped together. Seongmo's eyes go wide. "Seongmo-ssi, please join this next game, then we'll go. Just play one round. You don't have to come to the next party with me if you play. I promise." Yechan is as unconvincing as Taeyang is unattractive. Fuck them both, honestly. He probably would. God, please save Seongmo from himself.
"You really promise?" Seongmo raises his eyebrow, ignoring Maki nodding vigorously enough to give himself a concussion behind Yechan.
"Scout's honor," Yechan swears, holding up the Hunger Games hand signal to him. Just dumb as shit. It's hard not to love him though.
Seongmo will hold this against him the next weekend when Yechan is blowing up his phone about how 'everybody will be there, and you shouldn't miss out on your 20s, Seongmo.'
One game, then leaving doesn't sound that bad, all in all.
"Ugh, fine. What's the game?" Seongmo bites, knowing this group; it's probably a drinking game he can sleep off in a few hours.
Maki finishes his beer, raising his bottle with Jiung across the room before sitting up on his ankles. "Okay," Yechan whispers something in his ear quickly; Seongmo can feel a headache coming on. "It's basically spin the bottle with a twist. Whoever you get, you will play 7 minutes in heaven with. I'm sure you guys all know the rules; go as far as you'd like."
The room immediately starts buzzing with people talking about outcomes, what each pairing will do, acting like high schoolers. Acting like he suggested taking shots. Maybe Seongmo should have partied more in high school like Yechan begged him to; this will be his first time playing either game.
He knows he's said this before, but Seongmo might genuinely kill Yechan right here in this room.
Seongmo must be looking at Yechan like he killed someone, because he quickly starts his turn. "We can just go into the wall in the closet next to the bathroom for it." Yechan takes Maki's bottle and spins it in the middle of the circle.
Seongmo watches the group as they watch the bottle; he's starting to think they've been in this exact situation before. Jiung takes another hit and passes it to Shota mindlessly, Maki and Yechan with hands exploring each other's backs under shirts as it slows down. Taeyang, directly across from him, smiles as he watches it spin.
It lands on Shota, just barely, and Yechan whoops, dapping him up and leading him to the closet. "Maki, can you set the timer, baby?" Maki nods and slaps his ass as he leaves. "Jiung, I'll take good care of him, don't worry," Yechan yells out and rounds the corner with a wink.
The group is quiet until they hear the door click shut. Seongmo looks at the bottle, such a small alcohol percentage. Such a lower chance of a hangover. He should have drunk that instead of the Everclear-Tequila evil bullshit he had. He doesn't know if he can make conversation right now; he might throw up or say something he shouldn't.
He'd rather throw up.
"Did you guys see the game this week?" Maki starts, the music from downstairs still blasting, thankfully muffled through the closed doors. Seongmo watches mostly baseball and soccer; he has no idea what game Maki is talking about.
Taeyang hums, "Yeah, we lost by 1. I'm still pissed off." It's only when he turns to crack his back that Seongmo can see he's wearing a jersey. Maybe Taeyang has one redeeming quality after all.
Seongmo raises an eyebrow. "You like baseball?" He needs to know if he has taste.
"Duh." Taeyang turns on his knee to show off his name on the jersey. Self-absorbed much? Seongmo doesn't think he'd be any good at baseball, but he'd watch him on the field anyway. Ew, his tipsy thoughts suck this time. He does not mix well with tequila.
"I'm a Samsung Lions fan," Seongmo says proudly. Is there any other team that matters?
"Ah, damn it," Taeyang says. Seongmo raises an eyebrow, Taeyang's likeness dropping by the letter.
"I'm a Hanwha Eagles fan," Taeyang boasts, taking the last sip of his red solo cup drink. Seongmo isn't really focused on what he's saying. He doesn't know how he's drinking that without wincing. Seongmo rolls his eyes, barely keeping from laughing. His team is doing better than Taeyang's and won the game they're talking about by one point.
"Hanwha is in a tough spot recently." Seongmo is just teasing now; he decides he likes watching Taeyang squirm.
Maki checks his phone, whispering a sorry before yelling out that the two have 3 minutes left. Seongmo changes his focus from the wall behind Taeyang to the closet wall. What are they up to?
"And Samsung's been doing well, right?" Seongmo is too drunk to really pay attention, so he nods, and that conversation dies down. Jiung starts one about food, he thinks. He doesn't really know; he heard "subs" somewhere in the sentence and tuned it out.
The 7 minutes are passing by so slowly to Seongmo, the darkened room starting to make him groggy. He's beyond bored now; the fake wooden floor's texture can only be so interesting beneath his fingertips. He doesn't want to be hung over, and now his ass is starting to hurt from sitting on the floor. Seongmo almost starts ascending in glee when Maki bursts his eardrums at the 1-minute timer.
Shota's footsteps and Yechan's giggles are music to his ears when the timer runs out. Seongmo squints towards the door, Shota fixing his jeans while Yechan does his best to tame his messy hair. Seongmo's eyes widen again. Jesus, for two people not dating, they sure went rough with each other. Kinky.
"Oh, you guys had fun." Maki re-parts Yechan's hair when he sits back down, mouth agape in a smile. "Hope I get you next round then," Maki teases Shota.
Shota laughs, returning to his spot next to Jiung, who wipes the last bit of tears from his face.
Yechan hums to Maki, "he wears his pants backwards, by the way, zipper on the back." Maki looks Shota up and down, giving him a lip bite and wink. Which Shota returns in a heartbeat.
Seongmo watches as Jiung looks at Yechan like he wants to eat him, "and next time we'll have a go, yeah?"
Yechan immediately salutes when a bad bitch tells him to do something. Seongmo can't deal with these unserious people for much longer. It's getting hard to act like they aren't making him laugh.
Seongmo avoids Taeyang's eyes, looking at Yechan instead. "Speaking of next rounds, it's my turn." His heart is racing already, nervous, but he does love a game. Especially one where the prize is going the fuck home.
Seongmo gets on his knees, sitting back on his feet. The empty bottle cold under his hand. He exhales, trying to calm himself to get a good spin.
There are 5 people he could get: Yechan, whom he knows and trusts, and knows how he tastes like the back of his hand. Maki, who won't push if Seongmo doesn't pull. Jiung, someone who is probably such a good kisser, and is definitely the best option here. Shota might be too high to do anything more than a sloppy kiss with him, which could be cute. There are a few bright sides to this, Seongmo figures.
Seongmo keeps an eye on the bottle, losing count of how many times it spins. 9, 10, 11, and it bumps into something small on the 12th, slowing down the bottle enough to change the result. Seongmo swears time expands outward, the bottle taking its last spin in slow motion until the brand turns upright to him.
Fuck's sake. Out of everyone here, the bottle couldn't have landed even a little off-center? Why did it have to be Taeyang?
Reality collides with him the second he lifts his head to see Taeyang's smirk; it's so subtle too, something so small and evanescent, like it was specifically to piss him off. Seongmo winces at the cackle coming from his right side. He snaps his head, and Yechan is on the floor, laughing like he just discovered how to.
Seongmo is going to burn Yechan alive for this; it doesn't matter that there's no way the game could have been rigged for this specific outcome, but holy shit, what are the odds? 20 percent, yeah, whatever, but come on. He thinks he saw a bottle of vodka somewhere, and if he can just steal one of these lighters…
Seongmo whispers enough curses under his breath to ruin everyone in this party's whole day for ten generations forward and backwards before getting up. Slowly. The alcohol in his system making him slightly unstable. Nothing compared to Taeyang, who's walking like he's had half the punch bowl. For the love of god, Seongmo hopes Taeyang won't throw up on him.
Seongmo follows a beat behind him, stopping by the lit bathroom mirror on the way to the closet in pure misery. He begs his reflection to save him from this. The useless, drunk-ass identical man stares back at him, hopelessness staining his face.
The closet is small, tighter even with all of the clothes and shoes piled up on the back wall. Seongmo forgets people live in these party houses. Unfortunately for him, it is frat bros in their twenties.
Taeyang sits down, legs straight out in the already tight space. Seongmo watches unimpressed as he makes himself comfortable; Seongmo takes to kneeling down in the little space left over.
They have 7 minutes; Jiung's timer call is barely audible through two doors. 420 dreadful seconds, ironic because when it's just the two of them, Taeyang being cross-faded really shows. He's not playing "cool" anymore. Not acting like all the attention should be on him.
Taeyang must see his expression through the dim beam of light coming from the crack in the door. Seongmo's filter isn't that good when he's on something; he's found out. Which is saying a lot for someone who prides themselves on being so straightforward to people he cares about. he doesn't care for Taeyang. At all.
Taeyang taps his feet together, teasing. "The room just got colder." Seongmo's eyes haven't gotten stuck from rolling his eyes yet, but he's pushing his limits today. He can only see Taeyang's silhouette move a bit. "So, how are your classes going?"
Is he seriously trying to make conversation? Oh my god, fine. "Good, they're good. And yours?" His tone is monotone, laced with venom, and he hopes Taeyang is smart enough to pick up on it.
Taeyang scoffs, still tapping his feet together, near inaudible. "My classes are going great." He bites back with the same dose of sarcasm. These 7 minutes are going to be hell if they're going to be like this.
Seongmo scoffs back; he couldn't be paid to care about anything Taeyang said.
Taeyang sneers, clicking his tongue, "You don't have to be here, you know."
Seongmo looks at him like Taeyang just discovered electricity in the year 3000, "I only came because of Yechan, and I genuinely cannot wait to leave."
A sarcastic laugh comes from the other side of the closet, "What a fucking hero you are. Coming to a party, drinking, playing games, and walking your friend home. Surely there's an award for this kind of bravery."
What the fuck is this guy's problem? "Ugh, you are so irritating, holy fuck." Seongmo's knees are burning from this position; he feels the floor in front of him for a bit, doesn't hit anything, and repositions. "Why do you have to be here?"
Taeyang shuffles around the same, a sharp laugh exhaling. "Cause it's my party? Dumbass." His insults mean nothing to Seongmo. Taeyang must have crossed his legs finally; Seongmo scoots closer to the beam of light, spreading his knees apart a bit.
That makes so much sense, "oh, of course it's your fucking party. God, you know what your-." Seongmo cuts himself off, barely.
Taeyang squirms, just a bit, just able to notice it if you were looking for it, and Seongmo is looking."No, go ahead, say what you were going to say." Taeyang dictates.
Taeyang must think he's so fucking cool. Seongmo bites, "Fine, you know what your problem is? You're fucking conceited. You think you're the shit because you're pretty, and you are so rude. I really wouldn't be shocked if you were a bitch to people in high school too. Fucking Regina George wannabe. You don't even look like you want to be here; you've barely said a word to anyone."
Taeyang stays dead quiet. Seongmo can't see his expression. Fine with him.
Seongmo catches his breath. Maybe he should stop talking. "And another thing, I don't know if you remember when we met, but you completely ignored me when I said hi. What a great first impression that one was. All you did was stay on your phone, fix your gorgeous hair, and talk with Yechan. And said hi to pretty much the whole city in an hour. You are genuinely the most irritating person I've ever met." Seongmo could have been meaner, honestly.
Taeyang scoffs, "Are you done?"
"For now," Seongmo scowls. There's definitely more that he could say if he was in his right mind.
Taeyang's voice comes out a little strained; maybe he should have been drinking water instead of the punch. "Great, cause I was thinking the exact same things about you."
"Oh, go fuck yourself." Seongmo's hand moves much faster than he can register, fingers crashing against Taeyang's cheek. Taeyang yells curses at Seongmo; he doesn't care; he hopes it hurt.
His fingers tingle after; he would have slapped harder if he could see where he was. The slap is loud; his friends for sure heard it- that or the moan-like yell that Taeyang lets out from under him a beat after.
Seongmo loses his balance from the slap, his drunk stability is really something else. He pushes against the closet door for some sort of grounding. The door pushes wide open, letting the pale yellow light of the bathroom into the closet. Seongmo is inches away from Taeyang's face; fuck, he moved too close. Far too close; he's basically straddling Taeyang. Seongmo has never sobered up faster.
Seongmo takes Taeyang's face in his hand,taking control of the situation quickly. His long fingers pan over the left side of his face, turning him to see if the slap left a mark. Nothing, thankfully- just something a little red; it should fade within the hour. Good.
Seongmo barely registers Taeyang's soft moans underneath him until they become so perverted that Seongmo has to look at him . "What the fuck?" Seongmo lets go of him, but Taeyang doesn't move a muscle.
Seongmo feels for him between his thighs, his eyes not leaving Taeyang's, his hand trailing from cotton to jeans before stopping. If Seongmo had moved forward another inch, they would have been grinding on each other. Taeyang is hard; Seongmo can feel the shape of his cock through layers of fabric.
Seongmo presses his palm down on Taeyang's bulge; the whine he gets in return makes blood rush to Seongmo's dick. He's trying so hard to stop himself from closing in that inch.
"Taeyang," Seongmo's voice comes out hollow, entranced; he has no idea what he's about to do in this situation. "Go. Fuck. Yourself."
Taeyang laughs breathlessly, too turned on to think. "Ha, you said that already." he tries to thrust up for any sort of friction, but Seongmo stops him, holding him down with his body weight. Slowly adding more pressure while twisting his wrist left and right.
"No," Seongmo removes his hand from Taeyang completely; Taeyang groans in complaint. "I mean it, touch yourself." Taeyang's jaw drops, eyes wide; Seongmo's internal self is screaming; he didn't know he had that in him.
A beat passes; Jiung yells that there are three minutes left. Fuck.
And Taeyang nods; Seongmo moves a bit back so Taeyang can unbutton and shove his pants and black boxers, Armani, because why wouldn't they be, down past mid-thighs. Seongmo watches the entire time, looking as Taeyang wraps his fingers around the prettiest cock he's ever seen. If that's even a compliment one can give.
It's bigger than Seongmo's, but thinner and less veiny. Lighter in color too, the tip is the most gorgeous shade of pink. Seongmo would have lost the bet whether Taeyang was shaved or not; he must wax with how beautiful he looks. It's a shame there's no happy trail, like an angel without wings; but then again it makes it easier for Seongmo to not get too attached.
Seongmo barely keeps his drool in his mouth. He guesses no one can be perfect, because Taeyang's hands don't fit such a perfect cock at all, it's kind of pitiful. Seongmo giggles as he unbuttons his own jeans, his cock already hard and leaking a wet spot into his boxers. His hands wrapped around Taeyang would be so much better.
Taeyang breathes hard, hand pumping painfully slow to enjoy the buildup. "Why are you laughing?" his pace is agonizing to Seongmo, watching beads of pre-cum coat and gloss such a stunning cock.
"You have the most perfect cock I've ever seen and the absolute worst hands for it. It's such a waste." Seongmo slaps Taeyang's hand away just before another bead falls on his fingers. Seongmo raises an eyebrow, and Taeyang repositions himself against the wall to not strain himself. Seongmo crawls closer, close enough to see the tears on Taeyang's waterline when their cocks touch.
Taeyang's head slings forward, whispering lewd nothings by Seongmo's ear. Seongmo's slender fingers hold both cocks together, using both of their slick to bob his hand from base to tip. His large hands work so much better for this, pumping faster and faster until Taeyang is leaning his head back, moaning far too loud even for a party like this. he has absolutely no self-control when drunk, holy shit.
Seongmo's other hand is free, the most delicious idea crossing his mind, "Jesus, shut up." Seongmo presses his middle and ring finger into Taeyang's mouth mid-moan. Not entirely, just until the second knuckle; he's not trying to gag him, just quiet him down.
Taeyang's 'what the fuck?' comes out as a throaty mumble. He tries to bat his hand away but Seongmo is stubborn. He smirks, "Maybe if you weren't loud as fuck, we wouldn't have come to this." Taeyang rolls his eyes but closes his mouth on Seongmo's fingers.
"One minute!" Jiung somehow has the best and worst timing ever.
60 seconds is all they have.
All of these sensations are messing with Seongmo's head; he tries to keep the handjob pace steady while all while feeling Taeyang's tongue glide underneath the pads of his fingers. They really don't have enough time for this; Seongmo speeds up a lot. Causing Taeyang to suck on his fingers like a man starved. Seongmo juts forward, full body shivering and exhaling hard, an embarrassingly broken moan rupturing out of him.
Seongmo moans sharply when Taeyang just about bites his fingers off as he orgasms. Taeyang hikes his shirt up in the last second before he cums. thick, opaque, white strands streaking his stomach. Seongmo's hand and cock are covered as the cum finishes trickling down between both heads.
Seongmo flips his pointer finger between both of them, using Taeyang's cum as lube to jerk him off through the aftershocks, and then continues until he himself finishes, Taeyang winces and tries to get away from the overstimulation; he keeps sucking on Seongmo's fingers enough to hurt, which helps him finish faster than he would like to admit.
When Seongmo comes down from his orgasm, his head is on Taeyang's shoulder, and his lips are dangerously close to his neck. The timer rings through the walls, pulling Seongmo back to earth; clarity making quick work of him getting back on his feet.
Seongmo takes his fingers from Taeyang's mouth, watching as the saliva strand thins out. He wipes his fingers on the hem of Taeyang's shirt, it will be covered by the jersey; he'll live.
Seongmo gets up so quickly he starts seeing stars; he shuffles through one of the piles on the floor, picking out a random blue shirt to clean himself off enough to get home. By some miracle, there's only a small bead of cum on his shirt, nothing that will show even in the moonlight.
The second Seongmo is done wiping himself clean, he tosses the shirt to Taeyang, taking off without a word and definitely without waiting up for him.
—<>—
He told him to stay put. Seongmo told Yechan to stay by the bathroom door. One simple command that Yechan completely ignored in favor or god knows what. he would love to take shots every time he's said, ' I'm gonna kill Yechan,' tonight if the thought of another drink didn't make him want to throw up in the bushes.
Yechan's not in the backyard; he's asked just about everyone he bumped into. in that wild goose chase, Seongmo lost his last two cigarettes; they must have fallen or gotten stolen. Whatever. It's 2:36 am now, his phone is on 4% and Seongmo still can't find his best friend.
Seongmo turns the corner; it's maybe 50 feet to the front yard. In almost pure darkness except for the moon and streetlamps highlighting the trees overhead. Seongmo squints; when he really focuses, he can see two guys making out, leaning on the gate, one with black hair and rectangular glasses holding a red cup and the other with bleached silver hair in a sleeveless hoodie. That's Yechan and Maki, alright.
Seongmo starts walking faster, using the last of his battery on the flashlight to not trip on any trash or animals or- "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry." Seongmo didn't have time to react when a pair of Doc Martens appeared in his line of light a split second before they hit each other.
The person laughs, "No, don't worry, you're good." Their voice a little hard to understand. They light a lighter for the cigarette on their lips, the flame illuminating plump pink lips and a sharp nose that is unmistakably the one Seongmo was an eyelash away from not 30 minutes ago. Of all people to bump into.
"Hmm," Taeyang blows the smoke out of the corner of his mouth away from him, looking Seongmo up and down. "Do you want a cigarette? You look stressed."
Seongmo ignores the comment and the smirk that came with it. "Ah, yes. Please." Seongmo doesn't think too much in the moment as to why Taeyang is being so nice, but there's no way he was blackout in the closet.
Taeyang steps closer, turning to grab the cigarettes out of his pocket. He inhales the smoke deeply, Seongmo's rocking back and forth on his heels, expecting a lit Marlboro red to be extended toward him.
Taeyang shoots his hand up out of nowhere, cupping Seongmo's face so roughly it squishes his mouth open. Fingers pressing into Seongmo's cheeks and gums enough to hurt. Taeyang didn't forget a fucking thing. Seongmo can't say anything, just watches with bugged out eyes as Taeyang leans in unbelievably closer. To anyone watching, it looks like they're kissing. And for a fleeting moment, Seongmo lets himself believe that he's gonna kiss him.
Seongmo tries to slap his arm away, but Taeyang doesn't budge, the Deja Vu mocks him cruelly. "Inhale," is all the warning Seongmo gets before Taeyang exhales a thin stream of smoke into his mouth. He inhales most of it, getting too startled at the start to properly breathe in. Seongmo's eyes close for the split second when their lips touch, rough and dry.
Seongmo exhales to the side, hand resting over Taeyang's key tattoo's second skin above his elbow. He makes sure to keep eye contact, the satisfaction in Taeyang's eyes making it so easy for Seongmo to hate him. Seongmo scolds himself for the way his cock twitches in his boxers when Taeyang raises an eyebrow. Who's side is it on here?
Taeyang lets go of him just carelessly. He doesn't look at Seongmo, like he's not worth his time anymore."I'll see you around." He slurs as walks back to the trickling down party.
Seongmo massages his face, flipping Taeyang off with his other hand. "Fuck off, asshole." What a great way to end such a wonderful night. What's his fucking deal anyway? Seongmo presses two of his fingers into his sore jaw, the pain feels good under his skin, and he hates himself for liking the hurt so much.
He keeps walking forward to the two guys feeling themselves up in public. Shame isn't a word in either of their vocabularies, clearly.
"Yechan, Jesus, how many did you have? That shit is so strong." Seongmo stops a few feet away when the moaning fills the space. Yechan looks down at his near-empty cup, grinning wildly before swallowing the rest down.
"What was this? My fifth? My sixth? I don't know, but I am loving it." Yechan sings the last few words. Seongmo groans; he doesn't think he has enough Advil in his pocket for the headache Yechan is going to be during this 20-minute walk home.
"Let's go. Unless you want to take him, Maki." Seongmo redirects his attention; Yechan whining like a dog in heat when he had to separate himself from Maki, like it hurts to let go. All this drama just to swallow each other's tongue tomorrow morning, bright and early. Seongmo doesn't know about all bisexuals, but these two must be the most dramatic ones ever.
"Nah, please take him; he's plastered." Maki sways Yechan over to Seongmo, who giggles and wraps his arms around his slim waist. Yechan peppers Seongmo's cheek with little kisses, each press of his lips causing the pain to resurface, not that Seongmo's complaining. "Good news though, he did drink a bottle of water tonight, so he might just live long enough to throw up in the bathroom tomorrow."
Seongmo prays to whatever deities are out there that these two never break up. "Maki, you are a fucking godsend. Thank you, love you, and goodnight."
Maki laughs and waves them off into the night. Not 30 seconds later and Yechan's phone buzzes in his pocket. Seongmo's been around Yechan enough times at night to know it's Maki wishing him goodnight. The two are so sickeningly sweet, a stark comforting contrast to Seongmo's never-not-up-in-flames love life. He loves seeing Yechan this happy and comfortable with someone again.
It's not a long walk at all, and this is absolutely not Seongmo's first time carrying Yechan the whole way home. Who needs a gym when they have the full body workout of walking with a 170 pound unconscious man on his back? At least Yechan is walking and mostly conscious tonight.
The two of them are a good block away from their dorm when Yechan raises his head from Seongmo's shoulder. Seongmo inhales sharply, stopping his mumbling mid sentence; he was so sure Yechan was asleep.
Yechan yawns, hot air half avoiding his face, "Seongmo, what did you and Taeyang get up to on your turn? You ran off before we could ask." His voice is thick with sleep; he won't remember the answer tonight anyway.
"I'll tell you when you wake up." Seongmo can't stay mad at him for long; he has the biggest soft spot for Yechan but will never say it to his face, but he knows the death threats convey the message just as well.
Yechan falls back on Seongmo's shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. "Deal."