Archive of Our Own

Seonghwa can still feel the rhythmical pulsing of his entire body by the time they get backstage. The pounding of blood in his ears. The way his pulse beats in the tips of his fingers.

The heat in the pit of his stomach, coiling like a spring, demanding release.

He walks down from the stage, the crowd of staffers parting before them like the sea, with nothing but the roar of the audience in his ears and the stage lights in his eyes. The dark figure of Hongjoong, their flag held in his outstretched hand, standing victorious against the blinding glare, is the only thing on Seonghwa’s mind.

Seonghwa knows the kind of reputation that follows him. He doesn’t shake off his stage persona as easily as San; it takes him time to resurface after a performance, to fully come back to himself. He knows what they say about him: the demon performer of ATEEZ, skulking around the hallways at Music Bank, scaring the juniors.

Maybe there’s something to it.

The higher the adrenaline, the harder it is for him to snap out of it. Now, even with the performance over, the biggest stage of their lives done, Seonghwa’s body resonates with the frantic pounding of his heart, an exposed organ pulsing in the palm of the audience’s hand.

He gets a little hard, sometimes, during those moments. Not as often as San or Mingi, but it used to mortify him all the same as he rushed into the nearest restroom, afraid that someone would see. Seonghwa never touched himself back then, sitting instead on the closed toilet lid, waiting for his body to calm down.

Now, though, he knows what’s going to happen.

There are cameras around, filming for the logbook, but Seonghwa finds Hongjoong in the crowd and all but drags him into the empty hair and makeup room. No one will look for them there—the makeup noonas have already packed up their kits, and the only sign that they were even there are the trash cans filled with cotton swabs and used tissues.

“Wha—” Hongjoong manages to say as Seonghwa shuts the door behind them and crowds him against it, then kisses him, open-mouthed and filthy.

When he presses himself against Hongjoong’s body, he can tell that Hongjoong is hard, too. Seonghwa sees it—the way Hongjoong is not quite back to himself yet, either. The wicked glint in his eyes, the curved slash of his smile as their mouths are crushed together, pressure turning to a slow slide.

It’s still so new for them—barely three months since they found themselves on the same page after eight years of pathetic pining, with barely any time in between all the schedules, exhaustion catching up to them in the evenings. This, here, is even less familiar—the press of a hot body against body as they ride out the performance adrenaline together. But Seonghwa saw Hongjoong there, on the stage, and the darker, more sexy, more self-assured part of him that lives in the stage lights whispered, Yes. You want him like this.

So here they are now, with Hongjoong pressed against the door and Seonghwa pressed against him, hand trapped between their bodies, right over the bulge of Hongjoong’s hard cock. Seonghwa tears his mouth away from Hongjoong’s lips and looks around, dazed, ready to drop to his knees.

It would be so easy to give into that voice and pull Hongjoong’s pants open, drag his cock out and stuff it down Seonghwa’s throat until he can barely breathe, pathetic little intakes of air through his nose as he swallows around him, eyes watering with tears.

Instead, Seonghwa drags his palm up, touching Hongjoong’s abs through the soaked fabric of his shirt that clings to him with sweat, up to where his chest is exposed, glistening with perspiration. The palm slides across the damp skin and Seonghwa doesn’t let himself think before he ducks his head to follow it with the flat of his tongue. It’s salty and tastes just like Hongjoong. Seonghwa makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat, pushing up, up, lapping at the side of Hongjoong’s neck, sucking behind his ear.

He can feel Hongjoong’s cock twitch where the flat of Seonghwa’s other palm is pressed against his erection. It probably wouldn’t take much to make Hongjoong leak right now, ruining his stage clothes, and Seonghwa wants to see him like this—larger than life and reduced to a wet, moaning mess as Seonghwa works his cock with his hand, his mouth. Even the thought makes him feel powerful—the same rush that overcomes him when he knows he’s commanding the audience with a single word, a single gesture. On stage, Hongjoong is invincible. Here, now, he’s entirely at Seonghwa’s mercy.

“Fuck, you were so good out there,” Hongjoong breathes right into Seonghwa’s mouth in between kisses, and Seonghwa presses his fingers more firmly against Hongjoong’s cock.

They don’t have much time. Any minute now, a manager or one of the members will come to look for them.

With one hand, Seonghwa undoes the button on Hongjoong’s pants and pulls the zipper down, spitting into his other hand before sneaking it into Hongjoong’s underwear and wrapping his palm around his cock.

Hongjoong’s knees buckle, mouth almost snarling as he grabs for Seonghwa and pulls him closer by the neck. Their lips are crushed together again, tongues sliding against each other, wet and messy.

There’s no finesse in the way Seonghwa jerks Hongjoong off in his pants, his hand working in quick, efficient strokes until Hongjoong is leaking all over, the precome easing the glide.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong says again, head thumping against the door with a dull thud. His hips are jerking, thighs twitching where Seonghwa keeps himself close. The movement on his hand on Hongjoong’s cock rubs up against Seonghwa’s own erection, but the friction is not nearly enough.

He wants Hongjoong’s cock in his mouth so bad it makes him tremble.

Seonghwa feels drunk on power to see how quickly Hongjoong becomes unraveled under his touch. His cock is hard and hot in Seonghwa’s hand, getting wetter and stickier with each stroke, the sound ringing out obscenely in the empty room. Head spinning, almost too turned on to think, Seonghwa keeps rubbing himself off against Hongjoong’s thigh, keeping in time with the movement of his hand. His body keeps taking and taking whatever pleasure it can get, moving against Hongjoong in a familiar rhythm.

He knows Hongjoong is going to come any second now, the tell-tale signs there already, and the more shameless, more unabashed part of Seonghwa that still lingers after the performance relishes in that, drinking in all the desperate sounds Hongjoong is making into his mouth.

“Come on, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa says, twisting his hand around the cockhead, Hongjoong’s open palm hitting the wall as another quiet, “Fuck,” escapes through his clenched teeth.

Seonghwa can tell it’s a matter of seconds now, Hongjoong gasping for air, their bodies moving together, when there’s a knock on the door and Yunho’s voice coming from the other side. “Uh… Hongjoong-hyung? Seonghwa-hyung? Manager-hyung has been looking for you. We’re leaving in five minutes, we should be getting back to the cars now.”

Seonghwa watches as Hongjoong clears his throat. “Give us a minute. We’ll be out in a moment,” he says, and it’s impressive how stable he sounds despite how wrecked he looks. Seonghwa’s hand is still on his cock, unmoving.

Hongjoong swallows and reaches to pull Seonghwa’s hand out of his pants. “Later,” he mouths almost inaudibly. His eyes are hungry, dark and deep. Seonghwa suppresses a shudder.

When he turns to the makeup counter in search of a tissue, he can see in the mirror how wrecked they both look—makeup and sweat smeared around, mouths red and swollen from kissing. There’s glitter streaking down the side of Seonghwa’s cheek.

Once they exit the room, they see the usual backstage chaos rolling around them like sea waves during a storm. Off to the side, Mingi, Jongho and Yeosang are playing a game of rock-paper-scissors, which Jongho loses spectacularly with a groan.

It’s only later, once the two of them have changed out of their stage outfits and are being ushered into a car by a harried manager and Jongho climbs in behind them with a dead expression that Seonghwa realizes what they were playing for.

He flushes, his heart thudding frantically in his chest, but the buzzing beneath his skin remains. Seonghwa is still riding the high of the stage, unable to fully come back to his senses. Next to him, Hongjoong keeps bouncing his leg and chewing on his lower lip, leaving it red and plump and shiny with spit. Seonghwa wants to bite down on it, feel the plush flesh give way under his teeth.

He’s still half-hard, too, his predicament concealed by the darkness of the car as they drive back to their hotel in silence. Next to Seonghwa, Hongjoong keeps shifting uncomfortably, and Seonghwa knows what this means. Even with other people with them in the car, Hongjoong is hard, too.

Faux-casually, Seonghwa slides his hand up Hongjoong’s thigh—up, up, until he’s almost touching his cock over the clothes. He can feel the way his pants bunch up around the straining bulge, and fuck, that’s so hot, but Seonghwa doesn’t move his hand higher. He just keeps touching him there, a centimeter or two away from Hongjoong’s cock. Hongjoong sits still, but Seonghwa feels his hand curl into a tight, trembling fist right against Seonghwa’s hip.

“Stop it,” Hongjoong whispers, glancing over at Jongho, who seems engrossed in his phone.

“But I’m not doing anything,” Seonghwa says, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “What am I doing, Hongjoong-ah?”

“Yah, hyung,” Jongho says from where he’s sitting opposite the two of them with the back turned towards the driver, voice half-brazen, half-pleading. “Can you, please, not— We’ll be back at the hotel in ten minutes.”

Seonghwa doesn’t take his hand off Hongjoong’s thigh, but he doesn’t move it further up, either. He just lets it rest there, seeping warmth into Hongjoong’s skin. The muscle beneath his palm feels tense, like Hongjoong is holding himself back and holding on by a thread. He doesn’t look at Seonghwa, eyes stuck in the landscape of Rabat that passes them by.

Seonghwa knows that he’s so, so close to snapping—that any movement from Seonghwa would test his resolve.

There’s a part of Seonghwa—that bold, hungry part of him that comes out on stage—that wants to see this happen. He wants to see what it’s like when Hongjoong doesn’t hold himself back for once.

It’s not like the sex hasn’t been good—great, even. Despite his relative lack of experience, Hongjoong is an attentive, giving lover. Seonghwa has never felt more safe, more cared for in bed. He’s horny all the time these days, fixating on Hongjoong’s hands when they’re in the studio, on the solid musculature of his thighs when they’re in the practice room, on the shape of his mouth when they eat. It’s like Seonghwa is a teenager again, driven by hormones, thinking about getting off more than anything else.

But there’s always a part of Hongjoong that pulls back when things begin to take a turn towards something more, balancing on the precipice, on the sharp edge of a knife—like he’s afraid they will both get cut. He gets shy sometimes, or embarrassed by the things he wants, like he thinks that will send Seonghwa running.

They haven’t even fucked properly that many times after coming back from Coachella—usually left with just enough time to exchange quick handjobs or an errant blowjob, but nothing more. The handful of times they did get the whole night to themselves, once Hongjoong and San had finally swapped rooms, Seonghwa was left a sweaty mess of lube and come and spit, but it had taken so much coaxing to get Hongjoong to do things like fuck his face, to really make him understand that Seonghwa wanted all of it—wanted the nasty, obscene sounds, the lightheaded rush of blood to the brain as he struggled to breathe with Hongjoong’s cock stuffed down his throat. That he wanted Hongjoong to come all over his face. That he wanted to make a mess all over himself as Hongjoong fucked him raw.

Seonghwa keeps wondering, then, what it would be like if Hongjoong were to really let go.

They’re all wound up even now, still riding the adrenaline of their first headlining experience. But Seonghwa feels it that much more acutely, and he suspects that Hongjoong is the same. Ordinarily, he never would’ve indulged Seonghwa in fooling around backstage, and yet there he was, licking into Seonghwa’s mouth and sucking on his tongue, letting Seonghwa rub up against him and jerk him off in his pants.

The energy between them crackles, the two of them like kindling waiting for a spark. And, god, Seonghwa wants so much to see how brightly they can burn.

Seonghwa spends the elevator ride up to their floor bouncing on his heels, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Hongjoong keeps drumming his fingers on the railing, and Jongho stands in front of them, resolutely not looking back.

Their rooms are all the way up on the top floor, VIP apartments overlooking the lush resort grounds. Right now, it’s both a blessing and a curse.

“Goodnight,” Jongho says as soon as the door slides open and books it out of the elevator in record time.

Seonghwa can’t stop the giggle that escapes him, but the sound dies on his lips when he looks up to see the way Hongjoong is looking at him. His gaze is relentless, his eyes hungry, taking in all of Seonghwa’s form like he’s starving for it.

“Are we going to—? Let’s go,” he says, leading down the hallway to where his room is.

The moment the door closes behind them, Hongjoong presses Seonghwa against it like a lust-hazy mirror of the earlier scene, and pulls him in by the nape for a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue, warm breath pushed into each other’s mouths.

“Seonghwa-ya, Seonghwa-ya,” he repeats, breathless, each time they break for air, lips brushing. “You were so good up there. Fuck, come here, come here—let me just…”

And then they’re kissing again, loud and sloppy. The slide of lips against lips leaves Seonghwa lightheaded, and the way Hongjoong sucks on his tongue makes him shiver, little sparks of electricity arcing down the column of his spine. Hongjoong’s hands are all over him, touching Seonghwa’s face, sliding down the side of his neck, grabbing at the neckline of his tank top to bring him closer. Like this, their foreheads are touching while they keep breathing harshly, both of them fully hard again. Seonghwa can feel the outline of Hongjoong’s cock, deliciously thick and hot where it digs into Seonghwa’s thigh.

He wants it in his mouth so bad.

“I wanna suck you off,” he says when Hongjoong lets go of his mouth for a moment to suck light bruises into Seonghwa’s sweaty neck. They will fade in a few minutes, but it makes Seonghwa feel claimed in a way that makes his head spin. “Come on, Hongjoong-ah. Let me get on my knees for you, okay? You were so hot out there, I wanted to—right there on stage. In front of everyone. I feel—” a moan interrupts his words when Hongjoong grazes his teeth against the salty skin of Seonghwa’s collarbone, “I feel crazy when I look at you. You have to know what you’re doing to me, don’t you? So please, just…just let me. You can fuck my face, okay? I want it. I’ll be all pretty on my knees for you.”

He wants all of it tonight. They left their blood, sweat and tears on that stage, letting their bodies carry them when they felt themselves falter in the humid heat, and Seonghwa wants the same when it’s just the two of them now, stage makeup still on and product lingering in their hair. He wants the same frantic intensity, the same enormity of feeling, the same passion.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong says, a little strangled, and nods, but he doesn’t move just yet. Instead, he pins Seonghwa to the door again and presses their mouths together in a hungry approximation of a kiss.

One of his hands travels up the side of Seonghwa’s neck, locking his jaw in place as Hongjoong keeps kissing him like he’s running a fever and Seonghwa’s lips are the only thing that can quench this burning. His tongue curls around Seonghwa’s own, swipes across the even row of his upper teeth, slips further inside until Seonghwa can taste nothing but Hongjoong.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa whispers right into his mouth. “You promised. And you’re so hard. Don’t you want me to make it better? Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

“You are making me feel good,” Hongjoong says, sounding out of breath, but he finally takes a step back and allows Seonghwa further into the room.

“On the bed, sit on the bed,” Seonghwa instructs frantically, pushing Hongjoong backwards through the living area to the sleeping nook, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He lets the momentum carry him downward and sits, spreading his knees to allow Seonghwa to kneel between them.

But Seonghwa has other plans first.

He straddles Hongjoong, who has to reach out to support his ass, a hand on each cheek, kneading the plump flesh. Seonghwa knows he doesn’t have the biggest ass, but it’s nice and round and firm, and it fits well in the palm of Hongjoong’s hand.

Like this, Seonghwa can feel Hongjoong’s erection trapped under his body, his own pressed against Hongjoong’s abdomen. He rolls his hips, grinding down until Hongjoong groans, throwing his head back. Neither of them had time to shower at the venue, only get a change of clothes, but even those are sticking to their bodies by now, Seonghwa’s loose, flowy pants clinging to his thighs, the fabric straining against the bulge of his cock.

“Touch me, please, touch me,” he whispers, desperate, and moans when Hongjoong responds without hesitation, reaching to palm Seonghwa over the clothes.

It’s not nearly enough, but Seonghwa has to keep it together. He grinds against Hongjoong’s hand, again and again, drinking in the desperate sounds Hongjoong keeps making each time Seonghwa rolls his hips against Hongjoong’s cock.

“Put your hands in my hair, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa breathes out. “Mess me up, I’m gonna love it, please.”

Hongjoong does, running his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, still crunchy with hairspray, loosening the strands and scratching lightly against his scalp. Seonghwa throws his head back and rolls his hips again, more insistent, his cock leaking already.

“Yeah, yeah, just like that,” he says, voice breathy and strained.

He lets Hongjoong continue for a moment as he presses sloppy kisses to the side of Seonghwa’s neck at the same time, tugging a little at the hair to tilt Seonghwa’s head to the side and gain better access. Then, Seonghwa pulls away, slipping off Hongjoong’s lap and onto the plush rug at the foot of the bed. His knees sink into the fluffy softness of it just as Seonghwa reaches out to rub Hongjoong’s cock over his clothes.

He's so hard, and there’s a wet spot forming right by the waistband, where the head of his cock is tucked in, straining against the fabric. Spit pools in Seonghwa’s mouth at the very thought of fitting all of Hongjoong’s cock into his mouth and letting him use it until the world becomes blurry before Seonghwa’s eyes and he’s gasping for breath. With that thought, he leans forward to mouth at the outline of Hongjoong’s cock, wetting the fabric even more and earning a sharp sound from Hongjoong as he sucks in a breath.

Seonghwa takes his time, teasing Hongjoong until he’s squirming beneath him and Seonghwa’s lips are sticky with precome. It’s only then that he taps at Hongjoong’s hip, urging him to push his pants and underwear down, freeing his cock. Seonghwa spits into his hand and wraps his palm around the shaft, stroking upwards to spread the slippery slickness all over. Hongjoong groans and throws his head back in response, settling his weight on the palms braced against the mattress.

“Take it off,” Seonghwa says, surprised at how husky he sounds as he pushes the soft cotton of Hongjoong’s black tank top up, uncovering his abs. “Come on, take it off, I want to see you.”

He rakes his fingers down the flat, defined plane of Hongjoong’s abdomen and leans in to kiss the inside of his thigh. Hongjoong is sweaty here, too, and Seonghwa knocks his thighs wider, then sucks a kiss right into the soft, intimate place where Hongjoong’s groin meets his thigh, tasting salt and the familiar taste of Hongjoong’s skin beneath that.

His cock is so close, brushing against the side of Seonghwa’s cheek, leaving a smear of precome when Seonghwa leans into it, nuzzling against the shaft, his lips moving to kiss around the base. Slowly, he kisses up the length of Hongjoong’s cock, letting it drag against his face when he feels how Hongjoong sucks in another desperate breath above him in response to that.

It feels so dirty, so good—like something possessed Seonghwa on that stage, and now he can’t get enough of this, his body smoldering like an ember with the force of his arousal. It’s a slow, slow burn, the kind that can erupt into a blazing flame in a matter of moments. All it needs is another spark.

It makes him feel powerful, too, to know he’s the one doing this to Hongjoong—that he’s the one helping him unspool this tightly-woven knot of inhibitions.

That first time, in Seonghwa’s room on the night of his birthday, then when they were out in the States, and all the times after that—it’s never been quite like this. There’s a new kind of energy crackling between them like lightning, burning at the tips of Seonghwa’s fingers.

When he reaches the tip of Hongjoong’s cock, flushed deep red and wet with slick, Seonghwa makes sure to look up as he sticks his tongue out and taps the head against the flat of it a few times. Each time, Hongjoong’s cock leaves a sticky streak of precome that breaks after a split second, but it must look so filthy from where he’s watching Seonghwa, eyes at half-mast. Still not breaking eye contact, Seonghwa purses his lips and sinks down a little, just enough to slip the head inside his mouth.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong gasps, lips parted and eyes watching Seonghwa with the kind of hunger that makes him shiver. “You’re so good.”

Seonghwa curls his tongue around the underside of Hongjoong’s cock, then switches to teasing the frenulum with quick, light movements. When he dips the very tip of his tongue into the slit, more precome pools in Seonghwa’s mouth, coating the insides of his cheeks, and Hongjoong’s cock twitches.

They never break the eye contact throughout all of this. Seonghwa knows he looks good with a cock in his mouth—he has virtually no gag reflex and his lips are full, turning red with use—and with Hongjoong watching him intently like that, he feels sexy. He feels powerful. He feels wanted. It’s the easiest thing, then, to hollow his cheeks and sink further down onto Hongjoong’s cock, letting precome and spit ease the glide. He sucks around him slowly, keeping a tight seal of his mouth around the girth, relaxing his throat once the tip hits the back of his soft palate for the first time. The muscles in his stomach tighten a little at that, the way they always do in that initial moment, but Seonghwa breathes out and lets his throat loosen.

Once he sinks all the way down to the base, Seonghwa lets his eyes flutter shut and holds it there for a few seconds before releasing. He pulls all the way back, allowing Hongjoong’s cock to slip from his mouth, a trail of thick spit hanging between the head and Seonghwa’s lower lip for a moment before it breaks. Seonghwa replaces his mouth with his hand then, jerking Hongjoong off with a loud, slick sound as he looks up again, pleading.

“You promised,” he says, tongue peeking out to wet his lower lip. “I’m all warmed up for you now. You can just take whatever you want, okay? Don’t hold back. I’ll let you know if it’s too much. You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

His words echo the litany of objections Hongjoong had voiced the first time, but now Seonghwa gets them all out at once. He knows Hongjoong would never hurt him, and Seonghwa wants to see what he’s like when he’s driven past the brink.

Seonghwa opens his mouth then, tongue flat, and keeps looking up at Hongjoong as he guides his cock inside.

“Please,” he says right before sucking on the tip. “Hongjoong-ah…”

He watches the flash of arousal in Hongjoong’s eyes, the way his jaw sets as he grits his teeth, upper lip pulled back in a snarl Seonghwa has only ever seen from him on stage. Then, Hongjoong cradles the back of Seonghwa’s head and grabs a handful of hair in a loose hold—enough that Seonghwa knows he won’t let him pull back, but not enough that it hurts.

The first slide of Hongjoong’s cock inside his mouth is slow, exploratory, like Hongjoong is letting himself see how far he can go before it’s too much. He withdraws a little, then pushes back inside, hips snapping minutely as Seonghwa feels Hongjoong’s length fill his mouth. He focuses on steadying his breathing, in and out through his nose, tongue spread flat against the underside of Hongjoong’s cock to ease the slide.

Please, he wants to say, but he can only moan with his mouth stuffed full of cock.

It always makes his head swim a little—the way Hongjoong fills him everywhere. His cock is thick and just the right side of big and veiny, dark red when aroused. To feel it stretching Seonghwa’s lips is exhilarating.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Hongjoong whispers, awed, as he watches his cock disappear further and further into Seonghwa’s mouth with each shallow thrust.

Seonghwa lunges forward then, ready to show Hongjoong that he can go faster, deeper, that he can be more forceful with it. Like this, he can feel Hongjoong’s cock all the way down his throat, and if he were to look at himself right now, he knows there would be a bulge there, making his Adam’s apple jut out even more.

Tears spring to Seonghwa’s eyes at the sudden movement, but he looks up at Hongjoong pleadingly, locking gazes with him, dark and hungry.

Please, he wants to say, take whatever you need.

This seems to embolden Hongjoong. He climbs to his feet as his mouth drops open, a flush spreading down his neck, his chest. Then he takes a firmer hold of Seonghwa’s hair before giving a more forceful thrust. Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut as he feels Hongjoong’s cock hit the very back of his mouth, spit pooling around. The messiness is a part of it—Seonghwa loves it in the moment, loves how he can let go, allow himself to be as dirty as he wants without a care for anything else.

Hongjoong feels different tonight, too, his eyes searching Seonghwa’s face like he’s starving for him as his hips pick up speed, driving his cock deeper and deeper into Seonghwa’s throat.

“Fuck,” he says, awed and breathless. “I—I can see it…”

Seonghwa can feel it, too, buried deep in his throat, his body giving way to Hongjoong’s thrusts, opening easily to accommodate him. There’s a part of him that wants to capture it on film—he wants to see what he looks like, teary-eyed, getting his face fucked like this. His cock gets so hard just thinking about this, watching himself be so good for Hongjoong—so good that Hongjoong forgets all the reasons to be careful with him.

And Hongjoong is not—not right now, hips snapping as Seonghwa takes his cock all the way to the base, nearly delirious with the sensation. The hand buried in Seonghwa’s hair tightens the grip.

Seonghwa can barely breathe and his vision is swimming, spit running down the sides of his mouth and dripping off his chin. His hand is stuffed down his pants, fisting his own hard cock, nearly dying at the pleasure of it. It’s exactly what he wanted, exactly how he wanted to see Hongjoong, who seems driven mad with lust. It’s the same kind of ferocity he gives off on stage, the same kind of scorching competence he exudes while performing. Desperate moans and whines keep falling from Hongjoong’s mouth, and he looks half gone, eyes glazed over with pleasure.

The sounds that echo through the room are filthy, obscene—the wet click of Seonghwa’s throat each time Hongjoong stuffs his cock all the way in, the squelching of spit each time he pulls out just to drive in again after a split second. He’s going fast and rough now, hard enough that Seonghwa chokes and draws back with an ugly, retching sound, coughing. Thick strings of saliva pull between them before they snap. Tears spill down the sides of Seonghwa’s cheeks, mascara and eyeliner running.

Hongjoong looks like he’s about to pull away entirely, alarmed, but Seonghwa urges him forward, grabbing at the base of his cock to guide it back inside his mouth.

“Please,” he says just before the tip lands on his tongue. “Please, Hongjoong-ah, I want it.”

Hongjoong hesitates for a second, eyes wide and concern painted all over his face, but Seonghwa just sinks back down on his cock with his mouth and pushes Hongjoong’s hand back in his hair. It only takes a few slides of his lips up and down his cock for Hongjoong to realize that Seonghwa is fine, and he resumes the rhythm, a little halting at first, then speeding up until all Seonghwa can do is keep his mouth open and take it.

“I’m so close,” Hongjoong whispers, hips snapping. His hand caresses the side of Seonghwa’s face, the curve of his cheek, bulging with cock. “You’re too much. I can’t— Fuck…”

Hongjoong comes with a strangled groan, buried deep enough that Seonghwa can’t even taste the come before he swallows reflexively. His tongue curls around the underside of Hongjoong’s cock, helping him through the aftershocks. Hongjoong’s entire body is trembling above him.

Seonghwa is so, so close himself, it would take nothing at all to make him come. He could probably come untouched, just from the sensation of having his mouth used like this. He’s stopped touching himself, though, eager to ride this sensation like the sharp edge of a knife. He wants to prolong this for as long as he can. He wants to come with Hongjoong’s hands on him.

When Hongjoong finally pulls back, Seonghwa knows his face must look like a mess. There’s sweat stinging his eyes and probably black tear tracks down his cheeks. His chin is coated in spit, which he wipes away with the back of his hand, then sits back on his heels and looks up at Hongjoong.

Hongjoong looks wrecked.

His hair is in disarray, and Seonghwa has never seen his blush spread that far. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving as he comes back to himself. His thighs are trembling, and he falls back to sit at the edge of the mattress, looking around with a wild look in his eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asks, brushing Seonghwa’s tears away with his thumbs. “I—I can’t believe I lost it like this, I— I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No,” Seonghwa says, voice deep and rough with use. He licks his lips, trying to ignore the insistent throbbing of his cock. “No, that was perfect. That was just what I wanted, Hongjoong-ah.”

“Good. I—good,” Hongjoong says, dazed. He looks around like he’s not even seeing anything before his eyes move back to Seonghwa again, settling into the same ravenous expression from before. “Get on the bed,” he says, and Seonghwa scrambles up, off his knees, shedding clothes before he climbs onto the mattress.

He looks at Hongjoong for a moment, taking in the strong silhouette of his body, the muscles that he carries so well and so inconspicuously, the heavy, spent cock hanging between his legs. It looks big even when it’s soft, and Seonghwa’s mouth waters like he’s being possessed by some kind of lustful demon.

“Like this,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, and rolls around to rest on his stomach, legs spread wide. Seonghwa feels exposed like this, but he wants it.

They’ve never done anything like this—always staying face to face, eyes locked, kissing. This position, with Seonghwa facing away from Hongjoong, knees apart and back arched as he shows off his ass, feels dirty-hot, like he’s doing something he’s only ever seen in porn.

“Shit,” Hongjoong says, strangled, and Seonghwa spreads his legs a little wider, reaching behind himself to pull one ass cheek to the side, revealing himself completely to Hongjoong. He’s freshly-waxed, and Hongjoong must like what he sees if the way he sucks in a sharp breath is any indication. “You’re so hot like this.”

Seonghwa startles when he feels the touch of Hongjoong’s hands on him, caressing the backs of his thighs, his hips, to finally rest on Seonghwa’s ass, squeezing before he pulls the cheeks apart even more, exposing his hole.

“Get the lube, please,” Seonghwa whispers. His head is hidden between his shoulders as he keeps himself up on his elbows, maintaining the graceful arch of his back. He knows he looks good like this, the lines of his body flowing like a wave. “Hongjoong-ah, please, get the lube, I need—”

Before Seonghwa can finish the sentence, he feels something wet and slippery land right over his hole, sliding down the curve of his groin. It takes him a moment to realize Hongjoong spat on it, thumb sliding through the mess, smearing the spit around.

Fuck, that’s so much hotter. Seonghwa doesn’t think he could take Hongjoong inside with just spit—he’s too big for that, even if the thought sends a lightning strike arcing down his spine. But even this, with Hongjoong’s thumb dipping shallowly into Seonghwa’s hole, is enough to make his head spin.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa breathes, pushing back, ass in the air. “Please, Hongjoong-ah. Make me feel good.”

He expects more spit dribbled over his hole, followed by more of Hongjoong’s fingers. What he gets instead is his warm breath at the small of his back and then a kiss pressed to the very top of Seonghwa’s tailbone just before Hongjoong dips lower and licks at Seonghwa’s hole with the flat of his tongue.

Seonghwa’s knees buckle under him with surprise, mouth falling open and eyes open wide, a strangled moan ripped out his chest. He jolts forward, outstretched arms gripping handfuls of the sheets, face pressed to the mattress, right into the while hotel linens. Hongjoong catches him before he can fold completely, mouth methodically working him open as his palms slip and slide against Seonghwa’s sweat-soaked skin. He’s dripping now, perspiration running down his back in rivulets, hair clinging to his wet nape.

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa sobs into the sheets. His body and mind are on fire. It feels so good, he wants to cry. He’s so, so glad he prepped himself before the concert, just in case. “Oh, fuck, that’s—”

It's the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. It’s dirty and wet, Hongjoong’s mouth sucking and kissing the skin between Seonghwa’s cheeks, dipping his tongue into his hole.

Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening, he thinks frantically, his stomach flipping like he’s just missed a step while walking down the stairs.

No one has ever done this to him before—it was never the right time, with the rushed hookups and people he only knew as friends of friends. Seonghwa has never wanted to push for it, either; it’s not quite something you do on your first date, leaving yourself too open and vulnerable. But it’s always been there as a dirty fantasy, simmering under the surface, something that Seonghwa would come back to when he was touching himself, over and over again. He used to wonder what it would feel like, how wet and warm and intimate it would be, how much it would turn him on and make him squirm.

Now he knows.

Seonghwa’s thighs tremble, chest heaving as he finds himself unable to control his breathing, too lost in the blinding pleasure of this to think straight. He’s never expected Hongjoong to do this, but here they are now, with Hongjoong’s tongue working him open and Seonghwa barely holding on. His cheeks are flushed and burning, his body responding to the touch like a match to a strike, shaking all over with how good it feels.

It’s wet and loud and obscene, and Seonghwa loves every second of it. The thought that it’s Hongjoong—shy, inexperienced, awkward Hongjoong eating his ass sends his mind reeling, his body pushing back against the touch, fucking itself on Hongjoong’s tongue.

“Please,” Seonghwa whimpers, not quite sure what he’s asking for.

More. Deeper. Harder.

He wants all of that, and Hongjoong seems determined to give it to him without Seonghwa even having to ask. He moans against Seonghwa’s hole, the vibration sending a jolt up Seonghwa’s spine, a shudder down his limbs. Then, through his own moans and pleading whimpers, Seonghwa hears it—the unmistakable slick sound of a hand working a hard cock. Hongjoong is touching himself as he keeps eating Seonghwa out, his tongue firm and insistent, hot and wet inside him.

The thought makes Seonghwa’s mind reel. It’s so hot—almost more arousing than what’s happening to him, and he can barely hold on as it is. But to know that Hongjoong is not doing this just as a chore to please Seonghwa, that he’s getting off on this, too, makes white heat explode inside Seonghwa’s chest, radiating outwards to the very tips of his fingers and toes.

The sheets beneath Seonghwa are a mess—makeup stains and sweat and precome dripping from Seonghwa’s cock, forming a wet spot right under his abdomen. He’s so turned on he could die, thighs trembling from the effort of keeping himself up.

“Hongjoong-ah, please, I’m gonna come,” Seonghwa moans into the pillow, hot, damp breath soaking into the pillowcase. “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

But Hongjoong doesn’t. He grabs Seonghwa by the hips and pulls him back against his face, getting in as deep as he can, tongue flicking in and out of Seonghwa’s hole, lips sucking on the rim like Hongjoong is kissing him down there, too.

Seonghwa can feel Hongjoong’s heavy breathing as he desperately sucks in a breath through his nose each time the pulls away the tiniest bit before he can suffocate.

“Come on,” Hongjoong whispers just as Seonghwa’s toes begin to curl in pleasure, the hot pressure in his abdomen about to release. “Come on, just let go. I’ll make you come again.”

Seonghwa goes lax under him then, shifting to rest part of his weight on his shoulder as one of his hands sneaks beneath him to grab his cock. It doesn’t take much, just a few strokes and then he’s coming all over himself and the bed while Hongjoong keeps licking and sucking on his hole, his tongue leaving Seonghwa wet and open.

Seonghwa collapses once he comes like a marionette doll with its strings cut, breathing heavily as he comes down.

He doesn’t get much respite, though; Hongjoong withdraws and Seonghwa hears him wipe his face with his hand, then the mattress springs up when Hongjoong leaves the bed for a moment but he’s back not too long after. The familiar snick of a lube bottle being open comes next, and then Hongjoong’s fingers, coated in lube, slip inside Seonghwa with ease. He starts with two, sliding them in without any resistance with how loose and open Seonghwa feels just from Hongjoong’s tongue.

He still can’t believe that happened, but Hongjoong doesn’t give him any time to collect himself. The frantic energy simmers between them, sparking, as Hongjoong fingers Seonghwa with loud, squelching noises, pressing against his prostate once he finds it in a way that makes Seonghwa, still sensitive after coming, go cross-eyed with pleasure that borders on pain. He loves it, though—loves the way Hongjoong pushes him past the point where he’d normally tell him to slow down.

Hongjoong is so different tonight. Seonghwa feels drunk on every second of it, every filthy sound that spills between them, their hard breathing, and every moan and whimper. Sweat drips down Seonghwa’s chin and runs down his back, pooling in the dip where he keeps his spine arched.

“You’re so hot,” Hongjoong says, awed, and Seonghwa releases a breathy moan. “You’re so hot, I can’t believe I get to—”

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa interrupts him, still low and hoarse from having his throat fucked. “Please…”

He’s getting hard again, his arms sliding up the bed to grab at handfuls of sheets as he revels in the sensation, the pleasure overwhelming. It’s almost like he’s about to come again, except he can’t—he’s not even fully hard yet, but the pressure he feels is the same, making his head float as he pushes back against Hongjoong’s fingers, fucking himself on them in sloppy, uncoordinated moves.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Hongjoong whispers. “You’re so— I don’t understand how you look like this. I don’t understand how I got so lucky.”

A third finger fits itself alongside the other two now, and Seonghwa groans in pleasure at the stretch, the snug fit inside him. It’s already delicious, and he’ll feel even more full when Hongjoong’s fingers are replaced with his cock. That’s all he wants right now—to be filled and fucked and loved, and Hongjoong is going to give him all three.

“Please,” Seonghwa whines, arching his back a little more, feeling the stretch in his adductors as his thighs fall open wider with the movement. “Please, I’m ready, I’m so ready… Please, fuck me, Hongjoong-ah…”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong says and withdraws his fingers. Seonghwa hears him open the lube again, squirt some onto his fingers with a funny sound and slick his cock up before he presses the blunt head against Seonghwa’s hole. He’s already so wet down there, dripping with lube and sweat, and when Hongjoong pushes inside, the glide is smooth and slippery. It’s easy.

It still pushes Seonghwa’s breath out of his lungs because Hongjoong is big, and he fills Seonghwa in a way his fingers could never manage. Seonghwa pushes back against the stretch, rocking back and forth on his knees as Hongjoong sinks deeper and deeper into him at a slow, excruciating pace.

Seonghwa wants it faster—he wants it now, all of it, Hongjoong buried inside him up to the base, hips hitting the backs of Seonghwa’s thighs, the curve of his ass.

“Fuck, oh, god, please, pull my hair,” Seonghwa says, a strangled yelp escaping his lips when Hongjoong grabs a fistful of Seonghwa’s hair and yanks, forcing him into a spine-bending arch as he pounds into him from behind. It’s dirty and fast and hard, skin slapping against skin with an obscene sound.

Seonghwa is leaking all over the sheets again, sweat pouring down his face, stinging his eyes. He can taste the salt of it each time he darts his tongue out to lick at his upper lip, where it gathers in the dip of his philtrum.

His body is burning, muscles screaming as Seonghwa struggles to stay on his knees for an eternity, shoulders and arms tense from holding up the weight of his upper body. He’s shaking, half-lost in the pleasure, but Hongjoong is unrelenting now, leaning back with his upper body so he can drive his hips forward more easily, fucking Seonghwa in long, precise strokes.

It feels so good. Seonghwa knows he’s loud, but he can’t help himself. Each time Hongjoong snaps his hips, a moan falls from Seonghwa’s mouth, low and breathy, almost like a whimper.

The position makes it all so much hotter, like they’re just two bodies in lust, leaving everything else behind. There’s no Hongjoong and Seonghwa of ATEEZ here—just the two of them, unburdened and free, learning each other’s bodies in ways they haven’t done before.

Eventually, though, Seonghwa’s body reaches its limit.

“Hongjoong-ah, Hongjoong-ah, get on your back,” Seonghwa pleads frantically, barely getting the words out. “Please, I want to ride you.”

It’s been his favorite position with Hongjoong so far; the slack-jawed awe in his eyes as Seonghwa straddles him and sinks down on his cock never gets old. Seonghwa loves leaning over Hongjoong, seeing the way his eyes grow dark with hunger as Seonghwa throws his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. He looks good like this, and he knows it.

Hongjoong pulls out and Seonghwa collapses onto the bed, then turns over, slowly pushing himself up into a kneeling position. Like this, he can see how disheveled and wide-eyed Hongjoong is. His hair is plastered to the sides of his face, falling into his eyes, dripping sweat from the wet tips. His mouth is open, gulping on air as his chest keeps heaving. His cock is hard and flushed dark red, jutting out obscenely. Seonghwa wants to roll forward and suck it into his mouth, but they have other things to do.

Hongjoong scrambles up the bed to lie in the mess Seonghwa has made, leaning against the headboard. He grabs for Seonghwa, pulling him closer with a frenzied, “Come here, come here… Fuck, you look so wrecked…”

Seonghwa goes willingly, straddling Hongjoong’s lap and reaching behind himself to take a hold of Hongjoong’s cock and guide it back inside. With his hole stretched like this, he sinks down in one fluid motion, hips rolling back and forth as Seonghwa gets himself settled. He settles on a slow, undulating rhythm at first, leaning over Hongjoong to kiss him. There’s a bit of hesitation there at first, like Hongjoong is trying to decide whether to let him, and once Seonghwa realizes why that is, he pulls Hongjoong closer by the nape and slots their lips together.

The aftershock of the moan that falls from his mouth at the sensation of Hongjoong’s tongue licking into him ripples through both of them.

Bent over like this, Seonghwa leaves a sticky trail of precome right below his sternum. When he pulls back a moment later, breaking the kiss, it’s only to diligently contort himself in half, dip his head and lick it all up—up, up, all the way up. Seonghwa drags the flat of his tongue across Hongjoong’s damp, salty skin, hands roaming. Hongjoong’s arms are bracketing his head and Seonghwa reaches out to tangle their fingers together, push their entwined hands against the headboard as he leans forward. Like this, he can feel his ring dig into the soft skin of Hongjoong’s small, strong hand.

It's not the last one you’re getting from me, Hongjoong said that night in a different hotel room, in a different city. The memory of it still makes Seonghwa shudder.

He keeps rolling his hips, leaning over Hongjoong as he dips his head again to flick his tongue against Hongjoong’s nipple, sucking at it until Hongjoong’s hips buck, a breathy groan falling from his lips. But Seonghwa doesn’t stop—instead, he kisses a wet trail up the inky-black expanse of Hongjoong’s tattoo, licking and sucking at the skin there while Hongjoong’s hips keep snapping up to meet Seonghwa’s undulating movements.

Like a man possessed, Seonghwa licks along the side of Hongjoong’s bicep, right over the tattoo, and then further up, catching the curve of Hongjoong’s smooth armpit. Hongjoong curses under his breath. Seonghwa keeps going, licking a wet stripe up Hongjoong’s neck, behind his ear, then sucks on the earlobe, feeling the shapes of Hongjoong’s piercings beneath his tongue.

“Shit,” Hongjoong says, his thrusts growing erratic, and Seonghwa lets go with one final scrape of his teeth against the soft, tender flesh.

Instead of teasing, he leans backwards and arches his spine, thighs burning as Seonghwa picks up the pace.

“Oh god, please, please, come inside me, Hongjoong-ah,” he whispers, frantic, reaching down to grab his own cock, stroking it without much rhythm to it.

It doesn’t matter, though—not when Seonghwa is so close that the pressure of his fingers squeezing around the head is nearly enough to make him lose it. In the end, though, all it takes is Hongjoong’s hand knocking Seonghwa’s fingers away to replace them on Seonghwa’s cock. He manages three, maybe four strokes before the deep, smoldering feeling inside Seonghwa’s lower abdomen bursts out in flame and he spills all over Hongjoong’s hand and stomach with a broken, nearly inaudible moan. He can feel the orgasm all the way down to his toes, his hole clenching around Hongjoong, and that is enough to set him off as well, grabbing Seonghwa’s hips to keep him in place as he buries himself deep, deep inside and comes with a strangled, high-pitched sound.

As soon as the aftershocks subside, Seonghwa collapses right onto Hongjoong’s chest, heedless of the mess between them. As he does, Hongjoong’s softening cock slips out of him, and Seonghwa can feel the warm trickle of come that follows, running down Seonghwa’s perineum and dripping down onto the ruined sheets.

“I don’t think I can feel my legs,” Seonghwa confesses into Hongjoong’s chest. “Fuck, that was—”

“Oh my god, are you—are you okay?” Hongjoong asks. This close, Seonghwa can feel how hard his heart is pounding. “That was… I have no idea why I lost it like that. Shit. I’m—”

“Don’t,” Seonghwa says. He pushes himself up and takes in Hongjoong in all his wrecked glory. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. That was incredible.”

Even after all this, Hongjoong has the audacity to blush. His eyes crinkle in the corners when he laughs nervously, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. He then looks up at Seonghwa from under his ridiculously long lashes and asks, “And the—the thing I did, you know… Was that okay? I never asked, and I should’ve asked, but I don’t know what came over me, so I just… I don’t know. You always like when I use my mouth on you, so I thought that, uh—I thought that would be hot. I saw it once in a video, a long time ago, and couldn’t get it out of my head. How you would sound when I did this to you.”

Seonghwa falls back onto the bed, into the mess of soiled sheets, staring into the ceiling. “No, that was—” he swallows, “that was perfect.” He’s quiet for a moment, then admits, “I’d always wanted to try that, but it never happened with any of the guys I’d slept with before, you know? It just never felt right, and we were usually in a hurry, so…” He doesn’t want to go into much detail about his previous hookups with Hongjoong, but he needs to explain. He needs Hongjoong to understand. Seonghwa rolls to the side to look at him again, make sure he can see his face when he says, “It felt so good. You made me feel so good, Hongjoong-ah, you have no idea.”

Hongjoong frowns. “Wait, you’d never—?” he starts, then stops, his eyes widening. “Seriously? No one’s ever—? Wow.”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa confirms. “So thank you, Hongjoong-ah. You’ve made another dream of mine come true.”

Hongjoong gets furiously flustered at that, traces of the earlier unrelenting bravado gone along with his stage persona. Instead, there’s just Hongjoong, sweet and awkward, and a little bit shy at times. Seonghwa has never been more in love.

The moment he moves, his elbow touches a pool of sticky fluid—he can’t tell if it’s lube, come, spit or some combination thereof, but all of a sudden the state they’re in catches up to Seonghwa. He wrinkles his nose and pushes himself off the bed on unsteady legs.

“Oh my god, I can barely walk,” he says, then, before Hongjoong has a chance to respond, “This is not a complaint.”

He can feel the slippery mixture of lube and come running down the insides of his thighs, and he waddles awkwardly into the bathroom, ready for a shower. The stall is, fortunately, big enough for both of them, and Hongjoong joins him soon after. They kiss in between rinsing their bodies and washing their hair, much more languid, tongues tangling between them lazily, lips dragging against lips.

“You were so hot tonight,” Seonghwa says. “I’ve never seen you like this before. This bold. I—I liked that side of you, too.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I like all sides of you, Kim Hongjoong,” he admits, not knowing why he’s getting shy now, of all times. “Maybe I just like you too much.”

In the past, Hongjoong would’ve cringed away from this much sincerity. But now he only laughs awkwardly and leans in to kiss at the side of Seonghwa’s throat, then mumbles, “Good thing I like you, too, then,” into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck.

They decide to abandon the room after their shower. The bed is in no state to be slept in, even though Seonghwa does his best to straighten it up. Hongjoong watches him, then pulls out a fat stack of bills and places it on the nightstand.

“A tip,” he explains, nearly squirming with embarrassment. “For the housekeeping staff.”

Quietly, they make their way next door to Seonghwa’s room. As soon as the lights come on, Seonghwa crosses the space to pull the curtains closed and plug his phone in to charge. There’s another charger waiting for Hongjoong, a new mainstay of all their trips abroad.

It’s late enough that they don’t waste much time, just strip down to their underwear and slip beneath the sheets. Seonghwa settles himself in his favorite place—right on Hongjoong’s chest, with Hongjoong’s arms wrapped around him. Seonghwa feels at peace like this, like nothing exists outside of the warm circle of Hongjoong’s arms.

“Hongjoong-ah,” he whispers in the dark. One thing has been gnawing at him for a while now, prodding Seonghwa to ask. “Is there anything that you’d like to do? Like a fantasy you have? It doesn’t matter how embarrassing you think it is, okay? You can tell me, I won’t judge.”

He knows it’s not easy for Hongjoong to say what he wants sometimes. But Seonghwa wants to know regardless, if only to understand him better. And here, now, in the cozy darkness of the room, maybe it would be easier for Hongjoong to speak the words out loud.

Hongjoong is quiet for a while, but Seonghwa knows he’s thinking about it, the gears in his head turning furiously.

“It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate,” Seonghwa continues, doing his best to coax him into giving an answer. “Just something that gets you hot when you think about it.”

Above him, Hongjoong licks his lips with a quiet sound. Lying like this, with his ear pressed to Hongjoong’s chest, Seonghwa can feel how fast his heart is beating.

“Hongjoong-ah?” he prompts.

“I guess…” Hongjoong starts, his voice quiet and a little raspy. He clears his throat. “I know we don’t have much time sometimes, and a lot of that is because of me, with the studio and everything… So just, you don’t have to—you know. Wake me up. If you want to—yeah…”

Seonghwa flushes all over. “Oh, like if I wanted to suck you off?” he asks, just to make sure, and feels Hongjoong nod in the dark. The thought makes him hot everywhere, stirring up the smoldering embers of arousal. “Fuck, Hongjoong-ah, that’s so hot.”

The thought of Hongjoong letting Seonghwa in while in such a vulnerable state is like a punch to his solar plexus. It leaves him awed and honored—the amount of trust Hongjoong is placing in him. The sincerity.

It’s the magical, intimate space of their bed that allows them to learn each other by heart—slowly, surely, inexorably. The way Hongjoong’s breathing changes when he’s awake and when he’s asleep, and the way it picks up when he’s aroused. The way his hands feel on Seonghwa’s body and inside of him. The way they respond to each other’s touch. Seonghwa knows all those things, and he’s learning more with each passing day.

Like the waters of the tide, their bodies move against each other in a constant rhythm—the push and pull, the ebb and flow. At times, Seonghwa lets that sensation overwhelm him, arousal coiling in the pit of his stomach as they both allow that frantic energy to flow between them, giving into the feeling. At other times, the buoyant feeling simply lets their bodies settle against each other, peacefully lulling them to sleep.