Archive of Our Own

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Muted beeps sound from the keypad as Hongjoong tiredly enters in the passcode to the dorm.

It’s sometime after three in the morning, and he’s just getting in from the studio. He almost didn’t come home at all, but the sofa in his studio isn’t as comfortable to sleep on as the couch in their dorm’s common room. If it wasn’t necessary for him to get at least a little bit of actual sleep for their schedule tomorrow, he would’ve stayed cooped up in his studio.

The keypad chimes, and when the mechanism automatically unlatches, Hongjoong quietly opens the door and lets himself inside. He shuts it behind himself, kicking out of his shoes and nudging them towards the shoe rack with his foot.

Stifling a yawn, Hongjoong shuffles through the dark, avoiding obstacles with muscle-memory. He’s walked this path enough times late at night to know his way.

He’s used to the dorm being quiet and still, though he knows how lively it gets during their off days, or during the evenings when they return home from their schedules—often without Hongjoong. The quiet is peaceful, but he can’t lie and say he doesn’t miss the noise. He should try to come home more often… but he can worry about that some other time, when he isn’t dead on his feet and moments away from passing out.

Right now, his only concern is making it to the couch before his body gives out on him.

Hongjoong drifts blindly into the common room, feet carrying him on autopilot. His shoulders droop, muscles already relaxing in anticipation of flopping face-first into the cushions and crashing for a couple of hours. He stops just in front of the couch, knees knocking into the edge of the seat—his ears prickle, picking up the sound of someone’s soft, slow breathing.

His gaze is drawn down, immediately locking onto the body-shaped lump lying across the couch. His couch.

Hongjoong knows exactly who it is even without being able to see his face. No one else but Jung Wooyoung has the unabashed audacity to sleep on Hongjoong’s couch.

He hates that this has become a regular occurrence. Honestly, the fact he hadn’t even considered the possibility of finding Wooyoung asleep in his spot was a testament to the depth of his fatigue. Self-inflicted sleep deprivation never tasted so sour.

Irritation creeps beneath his skin; he can feel his temper flaring.

The couch doesn’t belong to him. This is the common space, after all. It’s not really his—but there’s an unspoken rule that at night, it’s off-limits to everyone but Hongjoong. Everyone knows that if Hongjoong returns to the dorm, no matter how early or late he gets in, he sleeps on the couch.

The room he shares with Seonghwa has never really felt like his. He keeps his belongings there, but he’s rarely ever slept in his bed. In Hongjoong’s mind, he isn’t home enough to really consider it a shared space. It’s Seonghwa’s room, not theirs—even if that’s a fact he conceals with the pretense of selflessness.

He claims to be considerate, that he doesn’t want to risk waking Seonghwa up by climbing into the top bunk late at night—and that is part of it. But it’s only a small part. The full truth is simply that he isn’t comfortable sleeping there.

Maybe it’s because he’s spoiled, what with being the youngest child in his family. He’d never had to share a room with anyone before becoming a trainee. Moving into a dorm with seven other men had really only served to reinforce that Hongjoong does not like to share. 

Becoming the leader of ATEEZ hadn’t really changed any of his bad traits; he’d just had to learn how to mask them. He had to step into a role, playact the part until it became second nature. Until he forgot how to turn it off.

He doesn’t get time off from being Kim Hongjoong, Captain of ATEEZ, even in their downtime. Hongjoong doesn’t know how to shed the weight of it, unable to set down the responsibility and the stress that comes along with it.

He can’t quite remember what it’s like to just be Kim Hongjoong—until Wooyoung pulls it out of him with practiced ease. Pissing Hongjoong off was a skill that Wooyoung had mastered alarmingly fast, and had since become his favorite pastime. Hongjoong forgets himself almost instinctively when Wooyoung creeps under his skin.

Even in sleep, Wooyoung manages to provoke his hot temper. What an insufferable talent, Hongjoong muses bitterly.

Hongjoong reaches over to tap the base of a lamp that sits on the end table, illuminating the room with a muted golden glow. It’s on its lowest setting, but he still winces as his eyes adjust to the light.

His lips slowly twist into a scowl the longer he stares down at Wooyoung, sprawled across the couch on his side. Honeyed highlights weaved through dark strands of hair catch the light, glittering like stars in the night sky. Bare-faced and pretty, expression smoothed out in sleep—not a care in the world.

Irritability is sour on Hongjoong’s tongue; it curdles as he swallows it down, stomach twisting.

In the last few months, Wooyoung had developed such a nasty habit of stealing Hongjoong’s rightful spot. He’d had no trouble before, respecting the unspoken rule and sleeping in his own bed, but something had shifted recently. Hongjoong has no idea what it is, exactly, but he resents it with all of his sincerity.

He comes home to Wooyoung asleep on the couch more often than he doesn’t—and it wasn’t even cute the first time.

It certainly isn’t cute now, and neither is Wooyoung, with his softly pouted lips and long strands of hair hanging loose around his face. Hongjoong absentmindedly lifts his hand up and reaches out towards Wooyoung. His fingertips graze against Wooyoung’s jaw, trail up to trace along the jut of his cheekbone—before he gently sweeps the hair out of Wooyoung’s closed eyes.

There’s a spiteful part of him that wants nothing more than to wake Wooyoung up as roughly as he can.

For a long moment, Hongjoong stands there and gazes at Wooyoung, contemplating slipping his fingers further into Wooyoung’s hair. He imagines grabbing a fistful of it and yanking harshly, Wooyoung startling awake with a shriek—but then he deflates on a weary exhale.

Waking Wooyoung would be far more trouble than it was worth. The immediate gratification would be short-lived, swiftly replaced with regret as the rest of the dorm woke up with him. Anger would be quick to override the initial panic once the rest of the members realized that there was no emergency—anger at Hongjoong, and not Wooyoung, for causing a disturbance so late at night.

As if it was his fault that Wooyoung decided to take the couch rather than his own bed, leaving Hongjoong with little choice but to grin and bear it. Bratty little fucker. Hongjoong is going to make Wooyoung’s life a waking nightmare for the foreseeable future as punishment for this offense.

It’s with a begrudging resignation that Hongjoong leans over Wooyoung and gingerly pushes him farther back on the couch to make space. Wooyoung doesn’t even stir, too deeply asleep to be bothered—and it once again ignites the malicious desire to get rough with him.

Instead, Hongjoong represses the urge and lifts up the hem of his baggy shirt to unfasten his jeans. He shimmies out of the uncomfortably tight denim, kicking them the rest of the way off when they drop around his ankles. The lamp shuts off with a quick tap of his fingers to its base, throwing the room back into darkness.

For what has to be the third time this week alone, Hongjoong slides onto the couch next to Wooyoung.

He positions himself on his side, with his back facing Wooyoung. Hongjoong grimaces as he reluctantly scoots himself closer to Wooyoung, until his back is pressed up against Wooyoung’s chest. He’d prefer to leave a little space between them—but if he sticks too close to the edge of the couch, he’s going to fall off in his sleep. A lesson he’d learned the hard way the first couple times he’d come home to Wooyoung asleep in his spot.

Hongjoong shifts minutely to get comfortable, careful of jostling Wooyoung too much. Not that he thinks a little movement will wake Wooyoung up if turning the light on hadn’t—but he really doesn’t want to chance it. The last thing Hongjoong wants right now is for a semiconscious Wooyoung to whine in his ear and forcibly cuddle him.

It doesn’t take long for Hongjoong to settle once he’s shoved a throw pillow under his head and stolen some of the blanket from Wooyoung. His fist tucks up under his chin, eyes fluttering shut as he melts into the couch. His breathing slows to match Wooyoung’s steady breaths, lulled closer to the edge of sleep.

He starts to drift, thoughts gradually quieting into syrupy nonsense.

His face pinches up in drowsy irritation as something starts to persistently poke at his backside, preventing him from dozing off. He makes a sleepy noise of complaint in the back of his throat, squirming listlessly in a vague attempt at dissuading further provocation. Wooyoung’s hips kick forward with a throaty groan exhaled against the back of Hongjoong’s neck.

Hongjoong goes stiff and still, suddenly wide awake. He stares into the darkness as horror washes over him, heart lodging itself in his throat. Wooyoung is still once more, but Hongjoong has a hard time convincing himself that he’d imagined movement when he can feel what is undeniably Wooyoung’s obscenely hard dick pressed against his ass.

Heat spreads over his chest and crawls up his neck, all the way up to the tips of his ears. Hongjoong swallows, mouth dry, and holds his breath for several beats. His heart rabbits in his chest, slamming against his sternum like it’s trying to make a break for it.

As the minutes drag by with no signs of further movement, Hongjoong’s heartbeat starts to steady out. With a quiet, shaky exhale, Hongjoong relaxes back into Wooyoung, dizzying relief washing over him.

Wooyoung stirs, pressing into his back, nose dragging against the sensitive skin of his nape. Hips rock forward subtly; Hongjoong pinches his eyes tightly shut, fighting the shiver threatening to creep up his spine. His face burns with mortification, panic coursing through his veins and making his heart race.

He’s paralyzed with indecision, unsure of what he’s supposed to do in this kind of situation. Wooyoung is asleep—he’s grinding against Hongjoong in his sleep, breath hot at the back of his neck. He should put a stop to this, it feels weird, he shouldn’t let this continue—but he can’t bring himself to move away. Hongjoong is terrified by the thought of Wooyoung waking up from the slightest hint of movement.

For a brief moment, he considers lying motionless and letting a sleeping Wooyoung use him to get off. The fact he’s even entertaining something so outlandish is a little pathetic, but the thought of waking Wooyoung up and putting a stop to it fills him with dread.

It would be significantly more humiliating to be faced with Wooyoung’s slow realization of why Hongjoong had roused him from sleep. Hongjoong would rather endure his current predicament than to be forced to deal with the embarrassment of whatever came out of Wooyoung knowing.

Never breathe a word of it to anyone, take it to his grave—pretend it had never even happened. Delude himself into believing that this is just a perverse fever dream brought on by sleep deprivation.

He’ll just have to get over his hang-ups where sharing a room is concerned. Fuck Seonghwa and his sleep schedule, Hongjoong is never going to willingly put himself in this situation again. Wooyoung can have the goddamn couch if he wants it so badly.

To his horror and humiliation, hot arousal blooms in his stomach. He can feel the slow back and forth drag of Wooyoung’s heavy dick against his ass with every rhythmic roll of his hips. Wooyoung makes a gravelly noise of pleasure as his pace kicks up, grinding into Hongjoong with more intent. The sound goes straight to Hongjoong’s dick, and he has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to prevent himself from responding in kind.

It’s enough to spur him into action; Hongjoong squirms, frantic and desperate to create space between them—but it comes a beat too late.

Hands grip tightly onto his hips, fingers digging into his flesh through the thin fabric of his shirt. He’s dragged back until his ass is pressed flush against Wooyoung’s unmoving hips.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung rasps, breathy and low against the back of his neck.

Hongjoong goes immediately still, heart beating out of his chest. His breathing comes in rapid little bursts, blood rushing in his ears. He can’t tell if Wooyoung is awake or talking in his sleep, but he can’t get his mouth to work.

Teeth graze at his skin as Wooyoung languidly rocks his hips forward, grinding against Hongjoong with a deliberate slowness. Hongjoong chokes on a whimper, trembling in Wooyoung’s fervent hold. He clings feebly to the hope that Wooyoung is still asleep—but it’s swiftly ripped out of his grasp.

A hand travels from his hip to his thigh, palm caressing over the exposed skin it finds there. Fingers dip down, tease along the seam of where he presses his thighs together. Wooyoung brushes his fingertips against Hongjoong’s hard dick, the featherlight touch coaxing another needy whimper out of Hongjoong.

Panic hits Hongjoong in the chest, freezing the air in his lungs. He can’t bring himself to move, telling himself to just pretend to be asleep— 

“Can I touch you?” Wooyoung asks quietly, intense, voice breathy with so much want that it makes Hongjoong feel hot all over. “Hyung, you’re hard.”

Hongjoong runs his tongue out along his bottom lip, breath catching in his chest. He could still pretend to be asleep, it’s not too late…

“…Wooyoung-ah.”

He can’t tell if it’s a warning or an invitation. His stomach twists itself into knots, churning with anticipative apprehension.

You’ve already touched me, he wants to scoff, but his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Why would you stop now?

Wooyoung stills his hips, but his chest is molded to Hongjoong’s back. The heat of his body bleeds through Hongjoong’s thin shirt, a constant reminder of how intimately pressed together they are. Hongjoong can’t tell where he ends and where Wooyoung begins. He can feel the hard dick nestled against the cleft of his ass throbbing in time with Wooyoung’s quickened pulse.

His head is dizzy with the knowledge that Wooyoung is excited because of him; he’s aroused because of Hongjoong. The thought shouldn’t flood him with arousal so intense, he forgets how to breathe—it shouldn’t turn him on at all, but his dick is heavy and aching between his legs.

The thrill of Wooyoung pressed up against him—the way that Hongjoong can plainly feel the evidence of his desire—makes his toes curl. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and worry it swollen and red, muscles twitching with the need to squirm—closer, away, he can’t quite decide which. He’s still paralyzed, an animal of prey held captive by sharp teeth around his throat.

“Did this turn you on?” Wooyoung hums thoughtfully, but Hongjoong can hear the faint amusement in his voice. “Getting humped by your sleeping dongsaeng does it for you, Hongjoongie-hyung? Pervert.”

He’s teasing, Hongjoong knows that—but shame crawls its way up his neck, burning at his cheeks. Humiliation curls in his stomach, a fluttery sensation that makes his dick twitch with shameful interest. Wooyoung is teasing, intentionally trying to provoke a reaction out of him—but Hongjoong has been struck in the chest with a suffocating sort of arousal.

Hongjoong is unusually quiet, face hot, embarrassment dousing his short fuse. He can’t get his mouth to work, shame-coated tongue losing its characteristic sharpness.

There’s a beat of silence where Wooyoung appears to wait for physical or verbal retaliation from Hongjoong—but when he stays still and quiet, Wooyoung sneaks his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt. When his hand fits itself back onto Hongjoong’s hip, Hongjoong shivers and breaks out into goosebumps at the skin-to-skin contact.

“Mmmh,” rumbles in Wooyoung’s chest like a purr, knowing.

The sound of it makes Hongjoong’s stomach sink, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. Wooyoung mouths at the back of Hongjoong’s neck, teeth scraping against tender skin like an afterthought. Lips drag along the side of his throat, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. They travel up slowly, lingering when teeth prefer to bite, the flat of his tongue soothing over each spot.

By the time Wooyoung nudges his nose against the shell of Hongjoong’s ear, Hongjoong is panting harsh, shallow breaths. The muscles in his thighs clench and press together in search of relief, hips shifting in Wooyoung’s tight grip. Wooyoung latches his lips and teeth around the sensitive skin just below Hongjoong’s ear, sucking lightly—and Hongjoong chokes back the whine that threatens to rip out of him.

Wooyoung releases suction with a wet pop, inclining his head until his lips graze against Hongjoong’s earlobe. His thumbs stroke back and forth over the squirming hips still captive in his hold. Wooyoung nips at Hongjoong’s earlobe, metal stud clicking against the enamel of his teeth.

“Why haven’t you pulled away,” Wooyoung breathes against his ear, punctuating his question with the grind of his hips.

By way of answering, Hongjoong rocks back into Wooyoung with a desperate noise that rattles his teeth. It fizzles out into a strung out whine when Wooyoung forces him still by the strong grip he has on slim hips. Wooyoung releases them in favor of slinking his arms around Hongjoong’s waist beneath his shirt, caging Hongjoong in against him.

“You haven’t answered any of my questions, Hongjoong-ah,” Wooyoung observes casually, slotting his leg in between Hongjoong’s.

He shifts his leg, hitching it farther up, until his thigh brushes against Hongjoong’s aching dick. His hips kick involuntarily at the contact, attempting to rut down and chase friction—but Wooyoung applies pressure between his legs with his thigh until Hongjoong whimpers, a shudder rippling through him. It’s painful, but it also feels so good that it makes his head spin, and he goes still.

“Can I touch you?” Wooyoung asks.

Hongjoong’s chest heaves as he sucks in shaky, uneven, open-mouthed breaths. It takes him a long moment to get his bearings, to gather his scattered, syrupy thoughts into something coherent.

His words come out with a needy pitch that dulls the bite he was aiming for. He slurs, “You’re already touching me.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He pauses, and then his voice drops, soft and lethal, when he rasps, “Do you want me to touch you?”

“You…” Hongjoong trails off, flustered by the confidence that Wooyoung displays in his unabashed boldness.

He’s always lacked a filter, thoughts spouting out of his mouth the moment they pop into his head. Wooyoung had blurted some out of pocket comments in Hongjoong’s direction more times than he could count. Hongjoong used his temper to obscure how easily Wooyoung could fluster him.

He’d stubbornly pretend that it meant nothing, that Wooyoung was simply teasing to wind him up and get a reaction out of him.

Hongjoong had easily convinced himself that it was nothing more than playful flirting that, while infuriating, was ultimately harmless. He’d dismissed the possibility of sincere interest as Wooyoung getting a kick out of pissing Hongjoong off. It made repressing his attraction to Wooyoung easier; he’d been able to bury it deep enough to feign ignorance of his own feelings.

There isn’t any denying it now, not in their current predicament. It all comes to the surface, impossible to ignore—too real, too fast, all at once. Hongjoong does what he does best where repression fails him.

“How long have you been awake?” he tries, desperate to deflect, despite knowing that it’s futile.

Wooyoung runs his palms over the flat expanse of Hongjoong’s stomach in exploratory touch. His teeth sink into Hongjoong’s shoulder punishingly, before he murmurs a reprimanding, “Mm-mmh, mine first.”

Several beats of silence drag by while Wooyoung patiently waits Hongjoong out. His hands roam, fingers spread out and searching; they caress along Hongjoong’s sides, travel over his ticklish abdomen. With an insidious slowness, his hands descend from waist to thighs, pausing to give Hongjoong’s hips an appreciative squeeze. Wooyoung paws at his thighs, deliberately avoiding touching where Hongjoong needs it most.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Wooyoung repeats when Hongjoong squirms, tilting his hips towards seeking hands.

When Hongjoong still refuses to respond, Wooyoung’s touch leaves Hongjoong’s skin. He slips his hands out from under the thin shirt with a disappointed hum that sounds more mocking than it does anything else.

“…I don’t want you to stop,” Hongjoong whispers, voice edged in a whine and face flushed, the confession betraying his desperation.

Wooyoung smothers a laugh in the crook of Hongjoong’s neck, causing Hongjoong to feel simultaneously mortified and lovesick.

“So close,” he drawls, pressing a kiss into Hongjoong’s skin tenderly. “But not quite what I asked.”

Appeasing hands find their way back onto Hongjoong’s thighs, rubbing up and down and kneading at his muscles. It seems like Wooyoung can’t resist touching him despite his insistence in forcing Hongjoong to verbalize his desires. Stubborn as Hongjoong is, it’s clear that he’s fighting a losing battle; Wooyoung appears to have a deeper well of patience than his own.

“Let’s try again,” Wooyoung decides, sounding far too pleased for Hongjoong’s liking. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Insufferable,” Hongjoong hisses through clenched teeth, swiveling his hips to rock himself down against Wooyoung’s thick thigh.

His eyes roll back as pleasure ignites from the exquisite friction—but yet again, he’s forced still by large hands seizing his hips. Hongjoong makes a noise of distress, curling his fingers around Wooyoung’s wrists in a desperate bid to free himself from his hold. His resistance earns a breathy giggle that makes his dick twitch.

Wooyoung ruts into him, grinding his hard dick against Hongjoong’s ass with unhurried, controlled movements. Shallow breaths fan out over the side of Hongjoong’s throat as lips drag against his skin.

“You’d suffer so much less if your mouth were as honest as your body,” Wooyoung murmurs, planting wet kisses along the expanse of Hongjoong’s inclined neck down to his shoulder.

Hongjoong feels delirious with need; the longer he goes without relief, the more sensitive he becomes. Wooyoung seems content to simply toy with him—which only serves to heighten Hongjoong’s mounting frustration. He’s losing patience, hot temper welling up and threatening to boil over.

His lips turn down into a pout when he bites out, “You know what I want.”

“Mmh,” Wooyoung hums his agreement, sucking a hickey into the skin of his shoulder. He turns his face to nudge his nose against the underside of Hongjoong’s jaw, tracing the tip along his mandible, until it bumps against the shell of his ear. “But I wanna hear you say it.”

Something in Hongjoong snaps at Wooyoung’s admission.

Whatever patience he’d had left withers into nothing; Hongjoong rips Wooyoung’s hands away from his hips. He slips off of the couch and onto his feet, whirling around to face Wooyoung. His expression contorts into something sinister as he watches Wooyoung sit up slowly.

His sharp gaze pins Wooyoung in place, warning against further movement.

Wooyoung holds up his hands like he’s trying to soothe a feral animal. His eyes are wide, a myriad of emotions playing across his face—shock, longing, regret, desire, too many to name—before settling on apologetic. He looks like a kicked dog, like his recklessness had finally caught up to him. Good.

“Hyung, I’m sor—”

He cuts off when Hongjoong steps closer to the couch, looming over him like an avenging angel. Hongjoong reaches out and roughly shoves at Wooyoung’s chest. His back meets the backrest, air punched out of him less from the force or impact and more from the suddenness of it. Hongjoong smiles when Wooyoung goes still, scarcely breathing, staring up at Hongjoong with a mix of confusion and want.

Hongjoong slots his leg between Wooyoung’s and crowds into his space, sliding closer—until his knee presses against Wooyoung’s dick. There’s cruelty in the way Hongjoong presses down harder, digging his knee into tender flesh punishingly, but the moan he pulls out of Wooyoung makes him throw his head back and laugh.

“Who’s the real pervert, hn?” Hongjoong croons, head tilting to the side. He leers down at Wooyoung, stifling a smug giggle at the way Wooyoung’s hips kick, grinding himself against his knee like a dog. “Wooyoungie.”

“I… you…” Wooyoung tries, struggling to find his words. His skin is flushed, pupils blown wide, drinking in the sight of Hongjoong hovering over him. He chokes on a whimper when Hongjoong insistently digs his knee between his legs. “You’re… not mad?”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Young-ah,” he drawls contemptuously, saccharine-sweet.

Hongjoong keeps his palm firmly planted against Wooyoung’s sternum in silent reminder to be still. His free hand travels up along Wooyoung’s arm, pawing at his bicep appreciatively before continuing its ascent. He traces his fingertips along Wooyoung’s throat, feels his breath hitch beneath his palm. Hongjoong’s fingers curl around his mandible, coaxing his head to tip back none too gently.

He pauses to admire Wooyoung beneath him, savoring this moment of permissive obedience. A well-trained dog is something that Wooyoung is not; rarely was Hongjoong afforded the opportunity to indulge in an attentive, compliant Wooyoung.

Apparently all it takes to turn Wooyoung pliant is to handle him a little roughly. Get aggressive, push him around a bit, and he’s malleable clay. He’d thought it was a joke when Wooyoung had confessed during their Christmas live that he liked it when Hongjoong treated him badly.

Felt his charm, he’d said—but it’s becoming apparent that he’d felt something a little more than just that. Hongjoong will have to remember to put this little exploit to good use in the future, when Wooyoung is being an unrelenting pest.

If he wants to be a dog, Hongjoong will happily treat him as such.

His hold on Wooyoung’s jaw tightens until his lips are forced to part. Wooyoung winces from Hongjoong’s unforgiving grip, exhaling a sharp hiss through his teeth. He likes the way that Wooyoung’s expression twists up into a grimace, nose wrinkled.

Hongjoong leans into Wooyoung’s space, head dipping down to graze a butterfly kiss against his upper lip. His tongue darts out past his teeth, licking into Wooyoung’s mouth teasingly. Wooyoung makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat, trembling from the effort of holding himself back from chasing Hongjoong’s mouth.

Breathy giggles bubble out of Hongjoong, teeth nipping playfully at Wooyoung’s bottom lip. He’s getting off on having Wooyoung at his mercy, on the way he restrains himself to be good for Hongjoong. Desperation looks good on him; he’s always pretty, but Hongjoong finds Wooyoung prettiest just like this.

He splays his fingers out against Wooyoung’s chest, bumping their noses together in cat-like affection. “I’m not mad—I’m livid.”

Hongjoong slots their lips together to prevent Wooyoung from running his mouth. He wastes no time in slipping his other leg onto the couch, shifting until he’s straddling Wooyoung. His calves cage in Wooyoung’s thighs, knees pressing into the backrest of the couch as he scoots himself forward. The moment he settles and rests his weight on Wooyoung’s thighs, Wooyoung fits his hands around Hongjoong’s hips and drags him closer.

The air between them is sweltering; Wooyoung feels like a furnace, radiating heat. His tongue teases along the edge of Hongjoong’s teeth, grip tight and digging indents into soft flesh. Hongjoong swivels his hips, grinding not a little desperately against Wooyoung.

Hips snap and rock up to meet his. He moans into Wooyoung’s mouth, sinking further into him, until they’re pressed chest to chest. Hongjoong’s hands drift at random, feeling up his arms, pawing at his chest—blindly mapping out Wooyoung’s body through touch.

Wooyoung ruts shamelessly against him, chasing friction. His fingers creep beneath Hongjoong’s shirt, seeking out feverish skin. Hongjoong greedily devours every little noise of pleasure that Wooyoung makes, sliding his hands up to curl around the back of Wooyoung’s neck.

Their kiss is messy, hungry, tongues sliding against each other hotly. Hongjoong’s head tilts to the side to deepen it, body bowing forward to press Wooyoung back against the couch. Hands travel up his shirt, caressing along his sides with such featherlight, reverent touch that it makes him squirm in Wooyoung’s lap.

His fingers thread through dark strands of hair, yanking lightly—and Wooyoung makes a wounded noise low in the back of his throat. Hongjoong breaks off from the kiss when large hands cut back down to grab onto his hips. He sucks in shallow breaths as Wooyoung takes them in a bruising grip and forces him still, pinning him in place.

Wooyoung grinds up against him with renewed intent, panting into his mouth until Hongjoong’s head tips back in pleasure.

His eyes fall shut as Wooyoung busies his mouth with kissing along the line of Hongjoong’s throat. Wooyoung is relentless in his need to bite and mark Hongjoong up; his skin is a canvas painted with the blooming reds and violets of bruises.

He’ll regret letting Wooyoung do as he pleases in the morning, when his skin is tender and he resembles a vampire’s favorite late-night snack. Right now, it only serves to fuel his lust, winding him up tight with delirious need. Hongjoong feels feverish with want; he’s greedy with the need to feel Wooyoung’s desire for him etched into his skin.

Wooyoung coaxes Hongjoong up by his hips, ignoring the tiny noise of confused complaint that rises in his throat. He’s guided up until he’s kneeling, hovering over Wooyoung and supporting his own weight with his legs. His chest is level with Wooyoung’s face, and by the pleased expression he wears, appears to be his goal—although Hongjoong isn’t sure to what end.

He isn’t left to wonder for very long.

The hands on his hips slide up his sides, rucking his shirt up along with them. Fabric gathers at Wooyoung’s wrists as his hands continue to travel up, slowly exposing more of Hongjoong’s bare skin. When the air hits his overheated skin, he shivers and breaks out into goosebumps. Wooyoung hooks his fingers beneath the hem of the shirt, bringing the bunched up fabric to Hongjoong’s lips.

He peers up at Hongjoong through his lashes with an imploring gaze, knuckle grazing against the corner of Hongjoong’s mouth as if to coax him into compliance. Making a show of rolling his eyes, Hongjoong humors Wooyoung and obediently parts his lips, biting down on the proffered shirt.

Wooyoung isn’t one to waste time; with the fabric held out of his way, his attention turns to Hongjoong’s chest. Thumbs drag teasingly against perky nipples before Wooyoung cups his hands over defined pectorals, filling his palms with an appreciative hum.

“I love your tits, hyung,” Wooyoung murmurs bluntly, punctuating his declaration by kneading at and squeezing Hongjoong’s chest. “Always wanted to get my hands on you like this.”

Heat spreads over Hongjoong’s chest and crawls its way up his neck, flushing him a delicate pink. Wooyoung’s admission flusters him to the point he almost forgets himself, and he has to consciously clamp his teeth down on fabric to prevent himself from dropping his shirt.

Wooyoung leans forward, pressing his lips to Hongjoong’s sternum, gentle—soft, like he’s fragile and should be handled with care. He lingers, unhurried, planting tender, open-mouthed kisses above his heart. His head inclines as he starts to trail from sternum to clavicle, each kiss growing progressively hungrier with the introduction of teeth. They scrape against skin, pursued by an errant tongue that dips out to taste him.

He soothes the sting of every sharp bite with his tongue, sucking love bites into Hongjoong’s skin at random.

“Pretty,” Wooyoung says when he pulls back just enough to admire his handiwork. His gaze flicks up to catch Hongjoong’s, searching his flushed face. “You’re so pretty, hyung. And sexy. Incredibly sexy, can’t keep my hands off you—”

His words cut off as Hongjoong makes a noise of distress in the back of his throat and shoots a hand out, aiming to cover Wooyoung’s mouth with his palm. Wooyoung catches his hand with ease, holding it captive to rub his cheek against Hongjoong’s inner wrist.

Hongjoong’s face burns, heart sprinting in his chest, wholly embarrassed by Wooyoung’s unfiltered thoughts. He hopes that his scathing glare conveys the severity of his displeasure with Wooyoung for finding the time to run his mouth when he should be keeping it busy. Wooyoung only laughs, the sound raspy and subdued—and it shouldn’t make Hongjoong want him more, but it does, and it’s infuriating.

Wooyoung readjusts his grip to take hold of Hongjoong’s wrist, crowding into his space until they’re sharing air. His thumb strokes back and forth over a peaked nipple, the stimulation as maddening as it is lacking. Hongjoong makes a startled noise muffled by fabric as Wooyoung kisses him through his shirt. The tips of his ears feel hot, eyes wide and watchful, wary of Wooyoung’s next move.

Lips drag against his cheek as Wooyoung makes a detour for his ear. Wooyoung flicks his tongue against its lobe, breathy voice low and hot when he drawls, “Hongjoong-ah. Want me to put my mouth on you, mmh?”

Hongjoong shudders, twitching away from Wooyoung’s proximity to his sensitive ear. His chest stutters with breaths quickened by a contradictory jumble of embarrassment and white-hot arousal. The hand Wooyoung has on Hongjoong’s chest shifts to cradle his waist in order to keep him from squirming too far away.

“Can I put my mouth on hyung’s tits?” Wooyoung repeats, amending his question into something more pointed.

His seemingly bottomless capacity to say such embarrassing things with such cocksure effortlessness never fails to fluster Hongjoong. He feels hot all over, overwarm, pink from the roots of his hair down to his chest with a perpetual flush.

Like he’s never known shame a day in his life, Wooyoung breathes, “Wanna make hyung squirm, see how sensitive you are. Your nipples are so tiny, wanna bite them. Can I—”

His words break off when Hongjoong shoves at his chest with his free hand before bringing it up to hide his face. A low whine warbles in Hongjoong’s throat, and Wooyoung draws back to look at him. Hongjoong gives a jerky nod of permission—desperate for Wooyoung to stop running his fucking mouth and just get on with it.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so humiliating if Wooyoung’s insistence for repeated enthusiastic consent didn’t stem from his delight in making Hongjoong express his desire—verbally or not. Hongjoong both appreciates and hates it that Wooyoung routinely touches base to ensure that he’s okay, that he wants this.

As if it wasn’t explicitly clear from the way Hongjoong had straddled him of his own volition. As if he wasn’t painfully hard—as if he hadn’t allowed Wooyoung to maneuver his body where he wanted it. Hongjoong wears his desire plainly, and with every drop of shame he possesses.

Wooyoung hides his smile against the hollow of Hongjoong’s throat. He mouths his way down Hongjoong’s chest eagerly, releasing the hold he has on his wrist. His hand finds its way back to Hongjoong’s hip, the other moving to paw at his pectoral as he latches his lips around a peaked nipple.

Teeth sink down lightly around the captive nipple, tugging gently as a hot tongue rolls out to flick against it. Hongjoong swallows thickly, mouth dry, fabric soaked through with saliva. He brings his hands up to curl loosely around the back of Wooyoung’s neck, toying idly with short strands of hair.

Wooyoung grinds the flat of his tongue against Hongjoong’s straining nipple. His thumb rubs circles over the other, deliberately balancing his attention between both. It’s almost sadistic, the way Wooyoung teases Hongjoong’s chest. He sucks, nibbles, bites—until Hongjoong’s nipple throbs and a whimper is pulled out of him.

When he turns his attention to the other nipple, releasing the abused one with a wet pop, it’s swollen and red.

Hongjoong tries not to squirm, but his neglected dick pulses between his legs, weeping precum that soaks into the fabric of his underwear. His body shifts minutely, hips tilting forward until they press up against Wooyoung’s stomach. A low moan rumbles in his chest as he starts to rut, grinding his dick against a soft tummy with the clumsy swiveling of hips.

Fingers toy with his oversensitive nipple while Wooyoung sinks his teeth around the areola of his other, biting down hard enough to leave the indentations of teeth. Hongjoong whimpers, hips stuttering as Wooyoung continues borderline torturing his nipples with passionate attention. It hurts just as much as it feels good, the mix of pain and pleasure leaving him panting and feverish.

It’s instinctual, thoughtless, the way Hongjoong arches up, pushing his chest closer to Wooyoung. He wants to get off, he’s brushing up against desperate for release, but this isn’t enough to make him come. His knees dig into the backrest of the couch as he wedges himself closer, cultivating intense pressure on his aching dick. It mingles with the friction he creates with his frantic rutting, building acute euphoria beneath his skin that promises rapture.

Arms circle around his waist and trap him. Wooyoung fits his hands onto his hips, wrestling him still and trapping his dick between their bodies. He ignores the groan of sheer frustration that rips out of Hongjoong and warbles into a defeated whine, tugging cruelly on the swollen nipple caught between his teeth.

His mouth travels across Hongjoong’s chest, a slow drag of lips, teeth, and tongue that ends when his lips seal around the skin just next to his other nipple. Wooyoung pinches sensitive skin between his teeth and sucks a dark hickey there, soothing the sting with his tongue.

Hongjoong feels his patience fray and snap; his fingers slide up along the back of Wooyoung’s head, threading into his hair. He twists the strands around his digits and tugs violently, pulling so hard that Wooyoung detaches from his chest with a wet pop. A strained moan reverberates in Wooyoung’s chest as Hongjoong continues to yank on his hair, until his head is drawn back and held still at a sharp, uncomfortable angle.

Damp fabric slips from between his teeth as he loosens his jaw, letting his wrinkled shirt fall back into place and conceal his chest. Wooyoung stares up at him with dark eyes, lashes fluttering when Hongjoong gives another punishing tug on his hair.

Hongjoong dips down to catch Wooyoung in a hungry kiss. Thoughtlessly, he captures Wooyoung’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down in retaliation for his abused nipples. It’s sharp enough that he breaks skin. The metallic tang of blood blooms over his tongue as he draws back, flicking his eyes over Wooyoung’s face.

They stare at one another, sizing each other up, while Wooyoung pants open-mouthed. Wooyoung’s eyes are glazed over with visible desire, flushed face twisted up in longing.

“Spit in my mouth,” he says, words rushed out on an exhale.

Hongjoong jerks back like he’d been slapped, gaping down at Wooyoung with wide eyes.

“What.”

It doesn’t come out like a question; shock robs him of intonation, leaving his voice flat and needle-sharp.

Wooyoung swallows noisily, running his tongue out along his bottom lip. It retreats back into his mouth, leaving his lip smeared in a mix of saliva and blood.

He gazes up at Hongjoong intently, searching his face for a long moment. When Wooyoung repeats himself, his raspy voice carries so much intensity that it makes Hongjoong’s head spin.

“I want you to spit in my mouth.”

Hongjoong takes a moment to gather himself, still reeling from Wooyoung’s unexpected request. He opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words, before he finally manages to blurt out a perplexed, “Why?”

“Like it when you’re mean,” Wooyoung answers without missing a beat. “Like when you’re rough with me and push me around.”

He pauses, observing Hongjoong attentively like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction. Hongjoong doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, but whatever Wooyoung finds on Hongjoong’s face seems only to embolden him further.

“Makes me wanna fuck you,” he rasps, tightening his arms around Hongjoong. His fingers dig into the flesh of Hongjoong’s hips, gripping onto him as though he thinks Hongjoong will disappear otherwise. Wooyoung strains against the hold Hongjoong has on his hair, fighting his way closer until their lips touch. “I wanna fuck you.”

Fuck.

The confession slams into Hongjoong’s chest like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him. His brain stalls, all coherent thought lost to the dizzying wave of arousal that crashes over him. He blinks slowly, chest stuttering as his lungs rediscover their ability to work properly.

When Hongjoong is once again able to think through the fog of desire, he tries to wrap his head around what Wooyoung is asking of him.

This is uncharted waters for Hongjoong. Spitting in someone’s mouth isn’t something that had ever occurred to him before. He can’t necessarily say that he’s opposed to it—hell, he can’t even deny the thrill he gets just from the thought of performing it on Wooyoung. He’s just… he isn’t sure that spitting in Wooyoung’s mouth is something that he’s capable of.

Hongjoong can’t lie and say that he doesn’t get a kick out of bossing Wooyoung around. He likes treating him roughly, thoroughly enjoys pushing him around and seeing just how far Wooyoung will let him take it.

The act of spitting in his mouth feels just a touch too far. Hongjoong is aware that it’s a kink thing, but the perversion of it—and his burgeoning impulse to fulfill Wooyoung’s desire—fills him with a hot shame that threatens to spill over. Maybe Hongjoong is capable of committing such a depraved act, but it’s that very capability that prevents him from doing so.

He doesn’t think he could withstand the burn of perpetual shame—shame from secretly deriving pleasure out of doing it.

His thoughts cut off abruptly when hands press down on his hips. Hongjoong allows himself to be lowered back onto Wooyoung’s lap until he no longer has to support his own weight, and he’s seated comfortably on muscular thighs. Lips find his despite the unyielding grip he still has on Wooyoung’s hair.

A hot tongue slips past his lips and licks into his mouth, gliding over his own tongue and coaxing it into responding in kind. Hongjoong hums, pressing into the kiss to deepen it. His clenched fists relax, loosening their tight hold and disentangling his uncurled fingers from silky strands of hair. His hands slide down to cup either side of Wooyoung’s neck, keeping him in place.

Hongjoong sinks into Wooyoung, molding their bodies together as Wooyoung rocks up against him. His hips move at a languid pace, every snap and grind controlled. With arms still braced around him, hindering his mobility, Hongjoong is left to rut mindlessly, clumsily trying to match Wooyoung’s pace. He grinds down into Wooyoung shamelessly, skin tingling with building pleasure.

He once again finds himself on the edge of release. Hongjoong makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat, the drawn-out whine muffled by their messy kiss. His hips kick and stutter, euphoria intensifying with every drag of his aching dick against Wooyoung’s.

Wooyoung bites down on his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth and tugging before he lets it slip free.

“Hongjoong-ah, can I finger you?” he asks, panting into Hongjoong’s mouth. His hips slow to a steady grind, hands sliding down to squeeze Hongjoong’s ass as if to emphasize his question.

A breathless snort rips out of Hongjoong. He leers down at Wooyoung, brow twitching upward in mild disbelief. “With what lube?”

“I have lube,” Wooyoung blurts, palming Hongjoong’s ass like he just can’t help himself. The tips of his fingers ghost along the cleft of his ass, dig into his flesh as he gives another appreciative squeeze.

He can’t be serious.

Hongjoong narrows his eyes, squinting at Wooyoung and searching his face. “But not on you,” he accuses, irritation flaring.

“Mmh.” Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders, nudging his nose against Hongjoong’s jaw. “I can grab it,” he says casually, peering up at Hongjoong through his lashes.

Hongjoong blinks, hips falling still while his shell-shocked brain takes a moment to process Wooyoung’s words. “Let me get this straight,” Hongjoong deadpans as he grips onto a fistful of Wooyoung’s hair.

He tugs on the tangled strands, and Wooyoung obediently permits his head to be yanked back with a throaty groan of pleasure. Hongjoong flicks his gaze over Wooyoung’s face, pausing to organize his thoughts into words on his tongue.

“You wanna throw the brakes to go grab lube,” Hongjoong enunciates slowly, voice low and dripping with contempt. “…so that you can finger me?”

Wooyoung stares up at Hongjoong with an unreadable expression, head tilting to the side. “Yeah,” he breathes in confirmation, running his tongue out along his bottom lip.

Wrath and arousal churn in Hongjoong’s stomach. He just wants to get off and go to sleep. Wooyoung’s insistence on wanting to draw this out is really starting to get under his skin.

Hongjoong’s hands creep around to cradle Wooyoung’s face in his palms. His thumbs brush against the corners of Wooyoung’s mouth, eyes flicking down when Wooyoung compliantly parts his lips, pink tongue poking out between his teeth. With the hold he has on Wooyoung’s face, Hongjoong coaxes Wooyoung into tilting his head back.

He hovers above Wooyoung, staring at his open mouth. Hongjoong doesn’t think; he lets saliva pool under his tongue before he spits into Wooyoung’s mouth.

The noise Wooyoung makes in response goes straight to Hongjoong’s dick.

“Thirty seconds,” Hongjoong hisses, digging and scraping his nails down the hollows of Wooyoung’s cheeks viciously, leaving red welts in their wake.

Hongjoong breaks himself out of Wooyoung’s hold, shifting off of his lap to plop down onto the couch. His eyes track Wooyoung as he scrambles up from the couch and disappears down the hall before he can even blink.

He returns in record speed with a bottle of lube in hand and a couple of towels draped over his arm. Hongjoong eyes Wooyoung as he draws closer, raising a hand to press firmly against Wooyoung’s chest when he crowds into Hongjoong’s space.

“Knees,” Hongjoong says quietly, the intensity in his voice betraying it as a command.

Wooyoung immediately drops to his knees in front of Hongjoong, attentive eyes peering up at him. His breath hitches when Hongjoong leans towards him, cupping his chin gently.

Their eyes meet, a beat of silence passing between them. Hongjoong grasps Wooyoung’s chin between thumb and forefinger, giving his head a little shake.

“You don’t get to fuck me,” Hongjoong murmurs, maintaining steady eye contact.

“Okay,” Wooyoung breathlessly agrees, but the look on his face is a threat. His gaze burns into Hongjoong, hungry and defiant, like he’d taken Hongjoong’s declaration as a challenge.

He looks like he wants to make Hongjoong eat his words.

Hongjoong eyes Wooyoung for a moment longer, pinching the flesh of his chin in warning. “I mean it.”

“Mmh,” Wooyoung hums impassively, as if to say sure, I believe you.

Hongjoong levels Wooyoung with a withering glare before releasing his chin to pat his cheek and leans away. He gestures for Wooyoung to move back with a dismissive wave of his hand. While Wooyoung shuffles backwards on his knees and creates space between them, Hongjoong leisurely rises to his feet.

His thumbs hook into the waistband of his underwear, shoving them down his thighs unceremoniously and letting them fall to his ankles. He’s not putting on a show for Wooyoung, but still Wooyoung can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Hongjoong. His gaze rakes over Hongjoong’s bare thighs, flick back up to stare at where his hard dick tents his oversized shirt, watches the damp spot forming there.

Hongjoong steps out of his underwear and nudges them away with the side of his foot. He does his best to ignore Wooyoung’s steadfast attention, trying not to shrink in on himself, but his stomach twists with nervous self-consciousness all the same. He feigns confidence by taking one of the towels from Wooyoung and draping it over the edge of the couch. Hongjoong lays it out carefully along the floor, fingers idly messing with the ends as if to straighten them.

He turns his back to Wooyoung, and with one final glance thrown over his shoulder in Wooyoung’s direction, he lowers himself onto his knees. Hongjoong slinks closer to the couch, fisting both of his hands into the fabric of his shirt. He hesitates for only a moment, briefly debating on whether to leave his shirt on or take it off—but they’re not going to have sex, so that settles that.

Hongjoong rucks his shirt up just enough to get it out of the way, then rests his chest flat over the seat of the couch. He hears the quiet snap of the bottle of lube being opened, followed by the shuffling of clothed knees across wood as Wooyoung presumably moves closer.

Despite anticipating it, Hongjoong still jolts when Wooyoung touches him. Fingers trail up the back of his left thigh, palm coming to rest against the swell of his ass. Wooyoung uses his thumb to spread his ass cheek to the side, further exposing his puckered hole.

It’s a little silly to feel embarrassed at this point, but Hongjoong still flushes pink, the tips of his ears hot. He battles the urge to cover himself, bringing his arms up to rest across the cushion on either side of himself, and tucks his face against the crook of his arm.

His face twists up into a grimace when Wooyoung squirts an obscene amount of lube directly between his cheeks. He wrinkles his nose at the sensation of the viscous liquid spilling down the cleft of his ass. It dribbles down, dripping off of his balls, and he distantly hopes that he’d positioned himself well enough over the towel that it won’t splatter on the floor.

Fingers drag through lube, smearing it over his twitching pucker. Wooyoung massages his rim, teasing against his hole with the pad of his finger. He presses lightly, testing for give. Hongjoong wills his muscles to relax, holding his breath as Wooyoung begins to breach his hole.

Wooyoung eases the tip of his finger into Hongjoong, subtly moving it in and out of him until there’s less resistance. He’s diligent with the way he gradually works his finger in deeper, taking his time to loosen Hongjoong up until he’s ready to take another. Hongjoong exhales a shaky breath when Wooyoung presses the tips of his index and middle fingers against his pliant hole.

They sink into him slowly, pausing at the second knuckle. Wooyoung rubs the pads of his fingers back and forth inside of Hongjoong. The sensation makes him squirm, hips twitching with the need to rock himself back onto them. They slide deeper inside, massaging along his walls until they’re buried to the knuckle.

The tips of Wooyoung’s fingers graze against something inside of Hongjoong that makes his body spasm, hole clenching down on the intrusion. A smug hum rumbles in Wooyoung’s chest as he starts grinding the pads of his fingers back and forth, concentrating his attention on Hongjoong’s prostate. It feels strange, at first, until the tingling sensation in the pit of his gut evolves into subtle pleasure.

Hongjoong makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, curling and uncurling his toes. He moves his hips experimentally in tiny circular motions, pulling bitten-off moans out of himself. His fingers twist and tangle in his own hair in a feeble attempt to ground himself.

His dick throbs and weeps precum with every drag of Wooyoung’s fingertips over his prostate. Pleasure builds in intensity at a rapid pace until Hongjoong feels like he can’t breathe. A low whine rattles in his chest, rising in pitch as the movement of his hips becomes stilted and his muscles spasm. His balls feel tight, dick heavy and aching with the need for release.

Precum pulses out of his dick in steady bursts, dribbling down the head and splattering against his skin. His eyes prickle with unshed tears, blurring his vision and threatening to spill over. 

Hongjoong twitches and chokes on a gasp when Wooyoung brings a hand around to fist the head of his dick. His thumb drags over the leaking tip, smearing precum along the underside of the head.

“You’re so wet, hyung,” Wooyoung says airily, loosely pumping his fist along Hongjoong’s shaft.

Hot shame bleeds out over Hongjoong’s chest, intensifying the pleasure churning in his stomach.

His fingers ease out of Hongjoong, joined by a third to rest their pads against his rim. Wooyoung presses against his hole, teasing the tips of his three fingers into Hongjoong as if to test for resistance. The satisfied noise he makes when his fingers sink slightly into Hongjoong with minimal resistance resembles the rumble of a purr.

Wooyoung gradually inches them deeper, shallowly fucking Hongjoong with his fingers until his hole is loose enough for them to glide smoothly. The feeling of his rim stretching around knobbly knuckles makes Hongjoong’s head swim pleasantly. Wooyoung releases his hold on Hongjoong’s dick in favor of fitting his hand around a trembling hip, the fingers he has buried knuckle-deep inside of Hongjoong falling still.

There’s a brief moment where Hongjoong feels suspended midair, anticipative of the fall. He’s wound up tight, on edge, toeing the line of coming undone—but his cresting orgasm loses momentum and gradually subsides the longer Wooyoung goes without moving.

This time, when his pleasure peaks and he’s deprived of his release for the third time, it’s painful.

A tormented whine tears its way out of Hongjoong’s throat, the sound rattling in his heaving chest. His leaking dick twitches, unspent and aching balls heavy between his legs. Hongjoong feels frustrated tears stinging at his eyes.

“Please,” he rasps pitifully, clenching down around Wooyoung’s fingers like it’ll tempt him into action. “I want—I wanna come.”

His pleading is met with quiet laughter. Fingers press down against his prostate, rubbing over it, and Hongjoong’s hips buckle—but he’s held up by Wooyoung’s strong grip.

“No,” he wails, muffling himself against his arm. He curls his hand into a fist, digging his nails into the flesh of his palm as if the sting will ground him.

His muscles spasm every time Wooyoung mercilessly grinds his fingers against Hongjoong’s prostate, pleasure building uncomfortably fast. It’s too much, borderline painful—but it also feels so incomprehensibly good that Hongjoong feels drunk on euphoria. He’s delirious with pleasure, and he doesn’t want Wooyoung to stop, even when tears spill down his face from overstimulation.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Hongjoong gasps out, arching up off of the couch as his muscles pull taut and his spine bows.

He drops back down when Wooyoung immediately stills his hand, withdrawing his fingers and leaving Hongjoong empty. Hongjoong trembles, breathing erratically as static tingles over his skin.

“Hyung?” Wooyoung murmurs quietly, stroking his thumb back and forth over Hongjoong’s hip soothingly. “Okay? Wanna stop?”

It takes a moment for Hongjoong to get his voice to work, tongue weighed down and syrupy in his mouth. “No,” he slurs, struggling to think through the fog of pleasure even as it ebbs. “…’m okay. Don’t wanna stop—just, wait… please.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung agrees, giving a tender squeeze to Hongjoong’s hip.

Hongjoong lets his eyes flutter shut, forcing his lungs to expand with deep, shuddering breaths. He clumsily disentangles his fingers from his hair, relaxing his fists, and idly shifts his body to put more of his weight on the couch.

When he feels a little more grounded, a little more in control—lucid—he makes a soft noise low in his throat.

“‘kay,” he breathes, glancing over his arm at Wooyoung. “Keep going.”

Wooyoung hesitates momentarily, intently searching what he can see of Hongjoong’s face. Whatever he finds there appears to reassure him, because he once again positions three fingers against Hongjoong’s rim. Wooyoung bows forward, pressing a kiss to the sweaty skin at the base of his spine, before he leans back on his haunches and massages the pads of his fingers over Hongjoong’s perineum.

He drives his fingers into Hongjoong abruptly, burying them to the knuckle. They glide out only to plunge back in, grazing over his prostate. Wooyoung fucks his fingers into Hongjoong at a brutal pace, punching pitched moans out of him with every thrust.

Hongjoong bites down on his tongue in an effort to muffle the noise he’s making, unable to stop himself from vocalizing his pleasure. The hand at his hip keeps him steady as he mindlessly fucks himself back onto Wooyoung’s fingers, eyes pinched tightly shut. His thighs quiver from the strain of keeping himself up, but he’s too far gone to mind the burn in his muscles.

Wooyoung periodically glances off of Hongjoong’s prostate, seemingly going out of his way to avoid touching it to the best of his ability. It’s almost frustrating as much as it is a relief to be given a reprieve from the onslaught of prolonged, too-sharp pleasure.

Euphoria plateaus, the incessant drive of Wooyoung’s fingers only enough to keep him in the liminal space between the apex and release.

It isn’t enough. It’s not enough, Hongjoong can’t come solely from this. Desperation wells up and escapes on a broken whine.

“Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung doesn’t acknowledge him. He continues fucking his fingers into Hongjoong, pressing them deeper and teasing around his prostate. The rhythmic drive of his fingers is as unpredictable as it is unrelenting. Wooyoung deliberately slows down to grind his fingers against Hongjoong’s prostate, pulling wounded noises out of him—before he abruptly speeds back up, fucking the air out of Hongjoong in the form of interrupted mewls.

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong hiccups, hips twitching forward in an involuntary endeavor to squirm away from cruel fingers. The hand on his hip tightens in response, holding fast to keep Hongjoong fixed in place. Hongjoong whines, slurring out a wanton litany of, “Wooyoung-ah, Wooyoungie, Wooyoung.”

Fingers continue to fuck into him without mercy; Wooyoung hums absently, rubbing over Hongjoong’s prostate with malicious intent. Hongjoong reaches a shaky hand back, swatting weakly at Wooyoung’s arm. His fingers curl loosely around Wooyoung’s forearm, attempting to pull him out—but the hand on his hip cuts down and captures his wrist in a bruising hold.

His arm is twisted up and pinned against his lower back, preventing him from interfering further. A gravelly moan rips out of Hongjoong, eyes rolling back in his head. He feels feverish, hot and cold, hips rutting back even as he tries to squirm away.

“You—” Hongjoong chokes out, breaking off on a drawn-out whine.

His chest stutters, body convulsing from forced pleasure. Hongjoong whimpers, embarrassed, as precum squirts from his pulsing dick and stickies up his inner thighs. Shame burns itself across his flushed skin, fanning the flames of perverse euphoria.

Hongjoong swallows open-mouthed, drool dribbling down his chin. “Wooyoung-ah, you… you can fuck me.”

He tries not to whine in distress when the fingers inside of him slow, idly dragging over his prostate. Hongjoong feels delirious, distantly convinced that if he doesn’t get to come soon, he’ll go insane.

Wooyoung ignores him, not even bothering to acknowledge his words with a hum.

“You can fuck me, Wooyoungie,” Hongjoong tries again, voice frayed from desperation. “…please.”

“Mmh.” Wooyoung plunges his fingers into Hongjoong as deep as they can go, ripping a breathless keen out of him. “Is that so?”

Wooyoung starts fucking his fingers into Hongjoong at such a brutal pace that all he can do is moan. Tears blur his vision and spill down his cheeks. He can’t get enough air, forgets how to form words, tongue stuck to the floor of his mouth.

“Thought you didn’t want me to fuck you. Is this not enough?” Wooyoung asks casually, slowing to a stop. He curls his fingers inside of Hongjoong, pressing down on his prostate mercilessly. Clicking his tongue when Hongjoong sobs, he mutters a scathing, “Greedy.”

His fingers slide out of Hongjoong, and he wipes the residual lube still clinging to them off on the back of Hongjoong’s thigh. It should be repulsive, but the offhanded way that Wooyoung treats Hongjoong like nothing more than an object is such a humiliating turn-on.

Wooyoung hums thoughtfully, releasing his hold on Hongjoong’s wrist to lean back and rest his weight on his hands. “What if I don’t want to fuck you, hyung?”

Swallowing his shame and ignoring the way his face burns with mortification, Hongjoong shifts to look over his shoulder. His eyes find Wooyoung’s, sees the way Wooyoung is staring at him, gaze roaming over his body with thinly veiled hunger.

He looks like he wants to devour Hongjoong, like he’s barely able to hold himself back from dropping all pretense to get his hands back on Hongjoong.

Hongjoong decides he may as well play with fire and call his bluff.

He rests his cheek against his bicep as his hips start to slowly sway from side to side. Hongjoong quietly observes the way Wooyoung’s eyes track the movement, catches him sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. A thrill runs down his spine and pools in his stomach; Wooyoung wears his desire so plainly on his face that it makes Hongjoong feel dizzy.

His hand slips down between his legs, brushing against his balls as it drifts up towards his ass. The knuckle of his thumb digs into his ass cheek as he hooks a finger into his rim and tugs it to the side, holding his relaxed hole open.

“You wanna fuck me,” he purrs coyly, pushing four fingers into himself with ease. “Got me all nice and wet, ready to take you, nn?”

Wooyoung swallows noisily, heavy-lidded gaze glued to where Hongjoong’s fingers sink into himself.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Wooyoungie? Haven’t I begged enough?”

Hongjoong pauses to let out an obscene moan, languidly fucking his fingers in and out of his pliant hole. He sighs, watching Wooyoung with glassy eyes as he slows his hand to a stop, leaving his fingers buried inside of himself.

Slipping a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants, Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders and flicks his gaze up to Hongjoong’s face. “Maybe I think you could stand to beg a little more, Hongjoong-ah.” He’s wearing an expression of carefully schooled indifference, but he can’t hide the desire glazing over his eyes.

“Mmh…” Hongjoong hums knowingly, teasing the tips of his fingers around his rim. “I could… but I don’t think begging is what you want from me.”

“That so?” Wooyoung asks, palming himself through his pocket and inclining his head to the side. “What do you think I want?”

Hongjoong hides his smile against his bicep, letting his hand fall away from between his legs and stretching his arm back along the cushion. He pretends to take a moment to think just to make Wooyoung wait, relaxing into the couch.

His desire to be a problem heavily outweighs his need for release. Wooyoung only has himself to blame; he’s being far too cocky for Hongjoong’s liking. Nothing would please Hongjoong more than to knock him down a peg and rile him up all at once.

“Well?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Hongjoong says, sounding bored. He peers at Wooyoung through his lashes to watch his reaction, idly shifting from side to side. “I don’t want you to fuck me.”

Wooyoung’s brow twitches, his carefully constructed mask slipping before he forces his expression to smooth back out. “Oh? And why is that.”

The sharp edge to his voice makes heat curl pleasantly in Hongjoong’s gut.

“What good are you to me if you can’t even use your brain to figure it out yourself,” Hongjoong sighs.

He lifts his head up and twists his body so that he can give Wooyoung a hard once-over. His eyes cut back down to stare pointedly at where Wooyoung’s dick tents his sweats. Even hidden beneath fabric, he looks big—but Wooyoung doesn’t need to know that Hongjoong thinks that.

“If your dick isn’t as useless as it looks, you certainly are.” He pauses, running his tongue out along his bottom lip. “I mean, you couldn’t even make me come with your fingers—so what good is your dick to me?”

Wooyoung makes a noise low in his throat, impassiveness bleeding out of his face to make way for wrath. His brow twitches, lips drawing back into a sneer as he lifts his hips up and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Fuck, he’s so fucking sexy when he’s angry—when he’s directing that silent fury at Hongjoong. It’s so hot that it makes Hongjoong want to push and push until he snaps.

He’s intoxicated by the thought of provoking Wooyoung until he puts rough hands on him.

Wooyoung shoves his underwear and sweats halfway down his thighs, dick springing free. He curls a loose fist around himself, slowly stroking along his shaft and exhaling a quiet groan.

His head tilts to the side, gaze never leaving Hongjoong. Smugness paints itself across his face when Hongjoong whines involuntarily at the sight of Wooyoung’s big, thick dick. “Still look useless?”

“Looks big,” Hongjoong breathes, forcing his eyes up to meet Wooyoung’s. A delighted shiver runs down his spine at the rage burning in Wooyoung’s eyes when he says, “…and just as useless as the man it’s attached to.”

“You’ll eat those words, Kim Hongjoong-ssi,” Wooyoung drawls, all abrasive confidence, digging a condom out of his pocket.

Hongjoong barks out a breathless laugh, resting his head back on his arm. “I sure hope so.”

He makes himself comfortable, passively watching Wooyoung pull his shirt over his head before letting it slip past his fingers. Wooyoung holds the unopened condom wrapper between his teeth and reaches down to lay out the other towel across the floor. He shuffles forward, slotting himself between legs that spread invitingly.

Wooyoung tears open the packet and removes the condom, rolling it onto his dick. He grabs the bottle of lube and squeezes a liberal amount into his palm before slicking his dick up and gripping himself at the base. The head bumps against Hongjoong’s inner thigh as Wooyoung guides his dick to his waiting hole.

No amount of prep could’ve properly prepared Hongjoong for the stretch of his rim around Wooyoung’s girth. The air rushes out of his lungs in a wheeze, fingers clawing at the cushion to ground himself as Wooyoung nestles the head of his dick inside of him. Wooyoung falls still immediately to allow Hongjoong time to adjust to the intrusion. He releases the hold he has on his dick in favor of running both hands up and down Hongjoong’s sides soothingly.

Hongjoong sucks in shallow breaths, willing his trembling body to relax. It’s not painful, but his eyes pinch shut from the discomfort of being penetrated by something far bigger than he’s used to. Wooyoung releases a quiet hiss, wincing from how tightly Hongjoong clamps down on the head of his dick.

It doesn’t take long for Hongjoong to get used to the stretch. His muscles relax, chest resting heavily against the cushion of the couch. Wooyoung takes his time steadily sinking into Hongjoong. It’s a tight fit, but all of the work he put into prepping Hongjoong and the gratuitous use of lube makes for a relatively easy glide.

When Wooyoung bottoms out, his dick sits snugly inside of Hongjoong. With the experimental roll of his hips, Hongjoong grinds himself back against Wooyoung. The feeling of Wooyoung’s dick rubbing against his insides pulls a low, wounded noise out of him. Hands settle at his waist to hold him still with his ass pressed back against Wooyoung’s pelvis.

Wooyoung demonstrates a composure that Hongjoong doesn’t possess by exercising self-control and remaining still. While Hongjoong appreciates the sentiment, he’s already become accustomed to the intrusion—and he’d be the first to admit that patience has never been his strongest suit. The feeling of Wooyoung’s throbbing dick buried deeply inside of him ignites a feverish need that burns away the final remnants of his weathered patience.

Hands scramble and cut down to grip tightly at his hips when he rocks himself forward, pulling off of Wooyoung’s dick until the head catches at his rim. Hongjoong fights Wooyoung’s hold and slams himself back, ripping a loud moan out of himself.

Wooyoung makes a strained noise, digging his nails into Hongjoong’s skin. He can feel Wooyoung trembling with the effort to hold himself back—and it’s really starting to piss Hongjoong off.

“You’re not going to hurt me, so move,” Hongjoong demands breathlessly through gritted teeth, clenching down on Wooyoung’s dick like a vice. “I’ll fuck myself if you’re gonna be this fuckin’ incompetent.”

He swivels his hips maliciously, little noises of pleasure reverberating in his chest from the feeling of Wooyoung’s dick grinding inside of him. Nails claw their way down his thighs as hips twitch with the need to fuck into him—and yet still Wooyoung refrains from moving.

Hongjoong would seriously consider strangling him if he wasn’t beyond desperate for Wooyoung to fuck him.

Spite wells up and burns like acidic venom on his tongue. His arms slink back to shove away the hands clawing at his thighs, spitting a vindictive, “Knew you were useless—”

He cuts off on a punched out moan as Wooyoung kicks his hips forward. His hands are swatted away before arms creep beneath him and curl around his waist. Hongjoong’s chest is lifted off of the couch, body easily maneuvered until he’s seated on Wooyoung’s lap with his back molded against a sturdy chest.

Wooyoung sinks further into him with this new position, leaving Hongjoong feeling winded. He squirms—and then immediately goes stiff with a pitched, “Ah!”

The angle at which Wooyoung’s hard dick is nestled inside of him has the head rubbing against his prostate. Subtle pleasure blooms in the pit of his gut and radiates out, raising goosebumps along his skin.

Wooyoung rests his palm flat over Hongjoong’s lower stomach and presses down to keep him pinned in place. His hips rut shallowly, not quite fucking into him—just enough movement to grind himself inside of Hongjoong.

His eyes roll back, chest stuttering with panted breaths. A low whine warbles in his throat when Wooyoung goes still.

“Fuck yourself then,” Wooyoung breathes against the back of his neck, fitting large hands onto Hongjoong’s hips. “Like this, hyung.”

Hongjoong is hoisted up with an effortlessness that makes his head spin. Fingers dig punishingly into his flesh as he’s forced back down, air punched out of his lungs on a choked whimper. His head knocks back against Wooyoung’s shoulder, lashes fluttering as residual pleasure pulses through him in time with his rapidly beating heart.

“If I’m so useless…” he says quietly, gravelly voice low and deceptively subdued.

Wooyoung trails off, sneaking his hands beneath Hongjoong’s shirt to caress feverish skin. His lips press against the side of Hongjoong’s neck in an open-mouthed kiss. Teeth graze their way up along the side of his throat, mouth lingering to suck love-bites into his skin. A hot tongue pokes out to kitten-lick at sweat-salty flesh, soothing the sharp sting of punishing teeth.

His nose drags along Hongjoong’s jawline as Wooyoung inclines his head, face turned towards Hongjoong. Chapped lips leave a smattering of butterfly kisses in their wake.

Breaths puff out against his cheek when Wooyoung parts his lips to speak, murmuring sweetness and honey into his skin. “Use me, Hongjoong-ah.”

It’s a direct challenge, and unlike Wooyoung with his maddeningly inflexible self-control—Hongjoong rises to the bait.

His hands slip between his legs to brace themselves on Wooyoung’s thighs, fingers clawed to secure his grip. He lifts his pleasure-heavy head off of Wooyoung’s shoulder, shifting his legs on either side of Wooyoung to dig his knees into the floor and reinforce his balance. Hongjoong grinds himself down before lifting himself up. He drops back down without warning, impaling himself on Wooyoung’s dick with a quiet moan.

Wooyoung settles one hand on Hongjoong’s hip to help support him, gliding the other up to rub back and forth along his chest, teasing over tender and swollen nipples.

Hongjoong finds a steady rhythm, riding Wooyoung at an unhurried pace. The muscles in his thighs flex as he works himself up and down, pleasure building beneath his skin with every rise and fall of his hips. Sweet sighs drip from his tongue like honey, body arching forward to rest more of his weight on his hands and ease the burden of supporting himself upright.

His movements slow and become more deliberate, pausing at irregular intervals to shallowly rut his hips and grind down against Wooyoung. A solid chest presses up against his back when arms snake loosely around his waist to cage him in and draw him closer. Wooyoung sneaks a hand down to wrap his fingers around Hongjoong’s dick, digging the pad of his thumb against the weeping tip. He casually strokes Hongjoong from tip to base with an intentionally slackened grip, slicking up his length with his own pre-release.

“Feels good,” Hongjoong slurs, breathy and pitched. His head tips back as he sinks down, seating Wooyoung fully inside of him. He fucks into Wooyoung’s fist, simultaneously grinding down and nearly sobbing from euphoria. “Feels so good.”

Hongjoong pitches forward and keens when Wooyoung abruptly snaps his hips up. He clamps his fingers down on Wooyoung’s thighs in an effort to maintain his balance, but his body trembles from overexertion, and his grip slackens. His hands creep forward as he melts into the floor, quivering hips kept elevated by the thick thighs nestled beneath them.

He braces his forearms against the floor on either side of his head to keep himself raised off of the ground, fisting his hands in the towel. Wooyoung takes hold of his hips as he shifts his body forward and drapes himself over Hongjoong’s back.

It seems like Wooyoung had lost his composure; Hongjoong could cry from the sheer relief of knowing that Wooyoung was finally going to fuck him.

Teeth sink into the nape of his neck. Wooyoung is a heavy weight plastered over his back, pressing him down into the floor. He fucks into Hongjoong with short and powerful thrusts, setting a brutal pace that has Hongjoong dizzy with rapidly building pleasure. His hips pound against Hongjoong’s ass, the sound of flesh hitting flesh loud in the quiet of the sleeping dorm.

“Yeah, yes, yes—please, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong cries before dissolving into a broken litany of Wooyoung’s name. His voice raises in pitch, moans tapering off into drawn-out, rasping whines. “Fuck, Wooyoungie. Feels good.”

“You’re too loud, Hongjoong-ah,” Wooyoung says, voice gravelly and strained from exertion. “Gonna wake up the whole dorm like this. ‘s that what you want?”

Hongjoong pinches his eyes shut against the pleasurable burn of humiliation. He rests his forehead against his arm, shirt riding up as his chest drops closer to the floor and his hips stay raised. His jaw clenches in a vague attempt to dampen the noise he’s making, but it doesn’t make much of a difference—and he’s quite frankly beyond caring at this point.

“Mmh? Want everyone to hear you?” Wooyoung punctuates his question with the filthy grind of his hips. He laughs breathlessly at the low, wounded moan Hongjoong makes in response. “Want them to imagine what I’m doing to you to make you sound like that?”

His breath hitches, inexplicably drawn to the shameful thought of being listened in on. Hongjoong feels intoxicated, drunk on pleasure and the way Wooyoung can’t stop touching him, reverent hands exploring his body—always returning to their home on his hips.

Wooyoung muffles his moans between Hongjoong’s shoulder blades, slowing the pace of his thrusts to a torturous crawl. He shifts and plasters his chest against Hongjoong’s back, resting his chin against Hongjoong’s shoulder.

Hongjoong can feel Wooyoung’s breath fanning out over the back of his neck.

“Do you want them to watch?”

“Oh, fuck,” Hongjoong gasps, winded and dizzy from the sudden flood of acute arousal slamming into his chest.

With a knowing hum, Wooyoung bunches his fist in the fabric of Hongjoong’s shirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A captive audience, watching me fuck you. What a pervert you are, hyung.”

Hongjoong bites down on his tongue to stifle a whine, tears prickling at his eyes. His shirt shifts further up his body until fingers brush against his bottom lip.

“Open,” Wooyoung commands intently, and Hongjoong obediently complies. Fabric touches his tongue as Wooyoung shoves his shirt into his mouth. “Bite down.”

Hongjoong sinks his teeth into the fabric of his shirt, and Wooyoung’s hand retreats. It makes its way back down to his hip as Wooyoung rights himself, straightening back up to sit on his haunches. His hands drag Hongjoong back with him to keep their hips flush.

“Maybe that’ll keep you quiet,” Wooyoung says sweetly, grinding lazily against Hongjoong’s ass. “You’re mine. Don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

You’re mine.

Wooyoung’s possessiveness catches Hongjoong off guard, hitting him like a train—but it really shouldn’t. He’s covered in bites and bruises, a debauched work of art wearing Wooyoung’s possession on his skin.

Maybe he’s a little fucked up for finding it as hot as he does, but fuck, does he really like the way you’re mine sounds coming out of Wooyoung’s mouth.

His chest slumps against the floor as Wooyoung starts fucking into him shallowly, picking up pace with every thrust. Fingers dig into his hips, coaxing him into rocking himself back in tandem. Staccatoed moans punch out of him every time Wooyoung plunges into him, barely muffled by his makeshift gag.

The constant drag of Wooyoung’s dick over his prostate has Hongjoong seeing stars, moans bleeding out into desperate whines and whimpers. He’s close, wound up tight and trembling with the festering need for release. He wants to come, he wants to come, he’s so close.

He reaches an uncoordinated hand between his legs, clumsy fingers curling around his aching dick. He strokes himself with short, frantic motions, tightening up his fist and focusing primarily on the head.

Hongjoong unravels beneath Wooyoung, fucked into the floor with the punishing drive of Wooyoung’s hips. He tips over the edge, orgasm crashing over him. His release dribbles between his fingers as he slows his fist, grinding his palm against the head of his dick. Wooyoung doesn’t stop, mercilessly fucking him through his euphoric high. Pleasure builds to a crescendo until it’s nearly painful, pulling all of his muscles taut.

He whines, high and strung out, the sound ripping at his throat and leaving it raw.

Wooyoung finishes shortly after, spilling into the condom with a breathless moan. His movements falter and shallow out, hips rutting in a slow grind. Wooyoung tips forward and plasters himself over Hongjoong’s back, pressing him into the floor.

He falls mostly still, rocking into Hongjoong periodically just to make him whimper and squirm. Hongjoong relaxes his jaw and spits his shirt out, sucking in shuddering breaths. Hands run up and down his sides soothingly, the gentle touch helping to coax Hongjoong back down from his high.

They lie there for a long moment, until their heartbeats slow and their breathing steadies out. Wooyoung rubs his cheek between Hongjoong’s shoulder blades, turning his face to press a tender kiss to the same spot.

Hongjoong could fall asleep like this—almost. Wooyoung is a comfortable weight compressing him into the floor, but the towels do little to cushion it, and his body is starting to ache. Not to mention that he’s lying in his own mess.

His nose wrinkles up in disgust as a raspy grunt floats out of him. “Okay, get off me.”

“What, no round two?” Wooyoung asks teasingly and rocks his hips. A quiet laugh bubbles out of him when Hongjoong jabs an elbow back into his ribs.

“Get your dick out of me so we can get cleaned up and sleep.”

Wooyoung hums his compliance, using his hands to support his weight as he pushes himself up and pulls out with a hiss. He carefully peels the condom off, tying it off before dropping it onto the towel next to Hongjoong’s hip. Hongjoong flops onto his back with a groan, scrunching his face up as he uses his shirt to wipe residual cum off of his skin.

As much as he’d love a hot shower, it’s much too late to entertain that. If they hadn’t already woken the entire dorm with their impromptu activities—and he was really hoping that they hadn’t—he’d certainly wake them by running the shower this late at night.

Hongjoong sighs and goes limp, head knocking back against the wooden floor. They’ll have to quickly wash up with a cloth run under the bathroom sink. It’s not ideal, but perhaps he’ll have time to fit a shower in before they leave for their group schedule in the morning. He’ll only need five minutes to get properly washed up.

There’s a dull ache radiating out from his lower back, an uncomfortable but pleasant reminder of getting fucked by Wooyoung. He feels particularly empty after being so thoroughly stuffed full. The phantom sensation of Wooyoung’s dick grinding inside of him still lingers, warming his face.

If they had the time for it, Hongjoong wouldn’t mind going another round. Hell, he might even be inclined to initiate it himself. As it stands, though, he’s even more exhausted now than he was when he’d walked through the front door. Hongjoong is well and truly fucked out.

He doesn’t even want to move, body sore and heavy with bone-deep satisfaction. Hongjoong can’t remember the last time he’d had sex that was that fucking intense.

For a brief moment, he considers staying sprawled out across the floor and making Wooyoung do all the work to get him cleaned up. It would only be fair—Wooyoung had kept Hongjoong awake far longer than he’d wanted to be, and now he’d be lucky to get an hour or two of sleep. He doesn’t even doubt that Wooyoung would be more than willing to take care of him.

Maybe that’ll be something he takes advantage of in the future, if this happens again. He isn’t opposed to regularly having sex with Wooyoung, necessarily—but that would mean coming to terms with his not-quite platonic feelings for Wooyoung. That isn’t something he has the bandwidth to unpack right now, so Hongjoong simply tucks it away neatly to deal with later.

His arms lift in a silent request for Wooyoung to help him up. Wooyoung takes his hands and pulls him to his feet, roughly enough that Hongjoong stumbles into his chest. Or maybe it’s because his legs are made of jelly, and he’s off-balance. Hongjoong allows himself to lean into Wooyoung for a beat, eyes fluttering shut.

Lips graze against his cheek, and he turns his head to catch them in a lingering kiss.

Hongjoong breaks away from Wooyoung and wobbles down the hallway, leaving Wooyoung to tidy up their mess in the living room. He tugs his soiled shirt up over his head and discards it on the floor. He’ll worry about it in the morning—he does not want to risk waking Seonghwa by tossing it into the hamper in their room.

He’s in the middle of wiping himself down when Wooyoung slips into the bathroom. Wooyoung drops their dirty clothes and the towels into a pile on top of his shirt. He nudges Hongjoong to the side with his hip to make room for himself in front of the sink. They clean themselves up in silence, adding their wash rags onto the pile when they’re done.

Wooyoung disappears into the hall while Hongjoong brushes his teeth, and returns shortly after in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He hands Hongjoong a baggy shirt and a pair of underwear once he puts his toothbrush back into the holder. Hongjoong doesn’t bother to question where Wooyoung retrieved the clean clothes from—he doesn’t want to think about it.

When he’s dressed and Wooyoung has finished brushing his teeth, Hongjoong cuts the light and reaches back to tangle their fingers together. They make their way back to the living room in the dark.

“Condom?” Hongjoong asks quietly, scanning his eyes over the common room. “And the wrapper?”

Nothing seems amiss upon a cursory glance, all of the evidence of what they’d gotten up to cleared away. He doesn’t have the energy to turn the light on and double-check—he’ll just have to trust that Wooyoung knows how to properly clean up after himself.

“Ate them,” Wooyoung murmurs, earning a disgusted noise and a glare from Hongjoong. He laughs quietly, slinking his arms around Hongjoong’s waist and molding himself against his back. His nose nudges against the side of Hongjoong’s neck. “I threw them in the trash, hyung. Any other dumb questions, or can we go to sleep?”

Hongjoong snorts, disentangling himself from Wooyoung with the roll of his eyes. “Could’ve been asleep a lot sooner if you weren’t an insatiable pest.”

“You like it.”

Hongjoong doesn’t bother dignifying that with a response. He pitches forward onto the couch, adjusting himself across the cushions to get comfortable. Wooyoung climbs over him to press himself up against the backrest, draping himself halfway on top of Hongjoong. The throw blanket gets dragged over them, and then Wooyoung settles with an arm hooked around Hongjoong’s waist.

Exhaustion makes itself known the moment Hongjoong melts into the couch beneath Wooyoung. It pulls at his eyelids, drowsiness dissolving his thoughts into syrupy nonsense. His breathing deepens and steadies out, luring him closer and closer to unconsciousness. One thought rises to the forefront of his mind, one that had been bothering him for months.

Hongjoong hums dazedly, parting his lips with a question on the tip of his tongue. “Young-ah. Why’ve you been sleeping on the couch?”

“Because I miss you,” Wooyoung breathes without missing a beat, crushing his cheek against Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Hongjoongie-hyung.”

A flush creeps up Hongjoong’s skin, burning at his ears. “Shut up,” he rasps, flustered and unsure of how the fuck he’s supposed to respond to that.

Hongjoong can tell that Wooyoung isn’t messing with him—he’d sounded far too earnest for Hongjoong to take it any other way than sincere. He doesn’t have enough cognitive function to touch that conversation with a ten-foot pole, now and maybe ever.

Hongjoong says, “Go to sleep,” and makes himself smaller to burrow more snugly beneath Wooyoung.

Their legs tangle together underneath the blanket. A hand finds his and laces their fingers together. Despite his racing heart, Hongjoong falls asleep not long after Wooyoung nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck and whispers “good night, Hongjoong-ah,” into his skin.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Hongjoong wakes to the quiet sound of the dorm coming to life.

He’s overwarm, crushed beneath the pleasant weight of another body. It very nearly tempts him back to sleep, but the sound of shuffling feet and hushed voices keeps him on the edge of consciousness. A low whine resonates in his chest.

Hongjoong cracks open bleary eyes, lashes fluttering as he blinks his vision clear of sleep. He feels uncomfortably hot, sweat sticking his shirt to his skin. Belatedly, the realization that he and Wooyoung aren’t alone in the common room creeps up on him.

San stands over the couch, peering down at Hongjoong with curious eyes. His gaze flicks to Wooyoung before sliding back to Hongjoong and down to his chest. It drifts back up and settles somewhere below his face.

“Hyung, you have a hickey on your neck,” San says sweetly, the corners of his lips upturning into a smile that puts his dimples on display.

Hongjoong flushes pink from the tips of his ears down his chest, eyes pinching shut in embarrassment. This has to be a nightmare. He peeks open his eyes to see San still standing there with his head tilted to the side, and Jongho just behind him.

Not a nightmare, then.

“That’s an understatement,” Jongho says under his breath, eyeing Hongjoong with open judgment. “There’s at least… ten, that I can see.”

“Go awayyy,” Hongjoong groans, words drawing out into a whine as he turns to tuck his face against Wooyoung’s chest in an attempt to hide.

It could never be that easy.

Jongho snorts loudly, and Hongjoong can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “You’re in the common room, hyung,” he points out conversationally. “Not your bedroom. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

Another pitiful whine tears its way out of Hongjoong, but he goes quiet when arms shift and tighten around him. Wooyoung grunts drowsily, sleep still clinging to him despite the growing noise around them.

“Mmh.”

“So it wasn’t a dream, then?” Yeosang muses from the hall. “When Wooyoung came into our room last night?”

His questions are met with a weary sigh. Jongho replies with a long-suffering, “No, hyung, as much as I wish it was.”

“I thought he said he was going to sleep on the couch,” Yunho chimes in with a yawn, voice muted with distance. “…Not that it sounded like he did much sleeping.”

…Oh. Horror crawls its way down his throat, twisting his stomach into knots.

“He did,” Yeosang confirms quietly, but he sounds closer than he did before. “He just came in a couple of times.”

San hums thoughtfully, curiosity in his voice when he speaks. “For what?”

“Lube,” Jongho deadpans.

Yeosang hums absently. “And clothes, after… well...”

“Ah… right,” San says with an awkward laugh. He’s quick to try and change the subject. “Has Seonghwa-hyung gotten up yet?”

Speak of the fucking devil.

“Hongjoong-ah.”

Hongjoong physically recoils at the sound of Seonghwa’s voice, desperately wishing that the floor would open up beneath him. Intense shame has him hot around the collar, burning at his face. This is the most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to him—and he only has himself to blame.

He’s going to kill Wooyoung and then himself.

Seonghwa sighs impatiently; Hongjoong can hear his slippered feet shuffling closer to the couch. He shrinks in on himself and holds his breath as silence fills the room.

“Ya, Kim Hongjoong,” Seonghwa drawls, voice like ice. “I know you heard me.”

Hongjoong puts on a brave face, peering over Wooyoung’s shoulder through his lashes. His gaze trails up, taking in Seonghwa’s stiff posture and the way he has his arms crossed over his chest. He glances up at Seonghwa’s face sheepishly, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. Seonghwa looks tired, faint bruises discoloring the delicate skin beneath his eyes.

Guilt moves in with shame, making a home out of his chest.

Seonghwa observes him blankly, brow slowly raising as he gets a good look at Hongjoong. His lips twitch and press into a thin line, working to keep his expression smooth.

“You’ll be replacing that couch?” It sounds like a question, but it feels more like a gentle ultimatum. Replace the couch or else.

Hesitantly, Hongjoong nods his head. He doesn’t want to bother with correcting the assumption that they had sex on the couch—the less the rest of them know, the better. It’s already bad enough that they heard them at all. Hongjoong simply cannot think too hard about how much they heard, or the embarrassment is going to make him burst into flames.

He’d replace every single piece of furniture in the common room if it would spare him from further humiliation. Not that he thinks any of them won’t be teasing him for days on end, if not weeks.

“Okay,” Seonghwa says plainly, breaking out into a soft, amused smile. His shoulders relax on a quiet exhale. “I’m glad that you and Wooyoung enjoyed yourselves so thoroughly last night—but if you could maybe try and keep it down next time… You know, so that the rest of us can sleep?”

“Yeah.” Hongjoong’s voice cracks from embarrassment, and he clears his throat with a wince. He can’t stop his face from pinching up, head ducking back down to hide from everyone’s eyes. “Ah, sorry. I, uh… it won’t happen again.”

“Mm, I’m sure,” Seonghwa says to a chorus of giggles.

He turns away from the couch and pads back towards the mouth of the hall before looking over his shoulder.

“You’d both better get up if you want a shower before we leave. There’s not much time left. I’ll start some coffee.”

Seonghwa disappears into the kitchen, leaving Hongjoong to wallow in mortification. It could be worse, he supposes. This is relatively tame where teasing is concerned. He thinks he can tolerate it without wanting to throw up if this is all it’s going to be.

As Wooyoung starts to stir against him, the rest of the members start trickling out of the living room. San, Yeosang, and Jongho linger in the mouth of the hall, whispering amongst themselves and casting furtive stares in Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s direction. He tries his best to ignore them while Wooyoung lifts his head up groggily, eyes blinking slowly like a cat.

Wooyoung glances towards the hall before cutting his attention down to Hongjoong beneath him, the sharp planes of his face softened with affection. His hands come up to cradle either side of Hongjoong’s face, squishing his cheeks between his palms until his lips press out into an involuntary pout.

“Cute,” Wooyoung murmurs, voice gravelly with sleep.

His fingers coax Hongjoong’s head into tipping back as he leans down to steal a kiss, ignoring the low whine of protest rattling in Hongjoong’s throat.

“Morning breath,” Hongjoong says sulkily against Wooyoung’s mouth, but he makes no moves to stop him.

Wooyoung hums and kisses Hongjoong again, slotting their lips together to deepen their connection. A satisfied noise floats out of Hongjoong as he melts into the kiss, sneaking a hand up to thread his fingers into Wooyoung’s hair.

For a brief moment, he forgets about the others entirely, transfixed on Wooyoung and the way he licks teasingly into Hongjoong’s mouth. The moment is shattered by a repulsed groan.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, get a room,” Jongho wails, sounding tormented.

Hongjoong flushes and breaks away from the kiss. He squirms, unsure of what to do with himself. He’s torn between hiding himself beneath Wooyoung or making an escape attempt, but Wooyoung holds strong, pinning him against the couch with the weight of his body. Hongjoong whines quietly but goes obediently still almost instinctively, face scrunching up with embarrassment.

“Don’t mind them, hyung,” Wooyoung says, loudly enough to be heard across the room. His lips curl up into a wicked smile, eyes boring down into Hongjoong’s. “They won’t tease you too badly.”

As if to prove him wrong, San immediately pitches his voice into a breathless keen. “Wooyoung, Wooyoungie—please!” he yowls mockingly to a chorus of laughter before dissolving into his own fit of giggles.

Hongjoong would be the first to admit that he deserves to be bullied a little—the consequences of his poorly thought-out actions and all that—but the shame is almost too much for him to handle.

Knowing that they’d been loud enough to be heard was already bad enough. It’s another thing entirely to be made aware of exactly how loud they’d been—loud enough that San could mimic Hongjoong’s cries of pleasure. There isn’t a word strong enough to convey the depths of his embarrassment.

Hongjoong moves killing San to the top of his to-do list. San first, then Wooyoung—and then himself.

“Keep it up, Sani,” Wooyoung says casually, sounding almost bored if not for the feral edge to his voice. He doesn’t even bother to spare San and the others a glance, too busy admiring the way Hongjoong looks beneath him. “I’ll spill your secrets first.”

That seems to shut them all up—maybe not for good, but at least for now. Now is good enough for Hongjoong.

“Secrets?” Hongjoong asks curiously after the room empties out, and he and Wooyoung are left alone.

“Mmh,” Wooyoung hums, pushing off of the couch and pulling Hongjoong to his feet. “You’d be surprised by all the things I know about all of them.”

Hongjoong… isn’t sure he wants to know, exactly, what things entails. He’s morbidly curious—but if it’s anything like what he thinks it could be, he definitely would prefer to remain blissfully ignorant. Either way, he files that information away for later, just in case. Hopefully he won’t ever need to use Wooyoung’s knowledge to gain the upper hand, because he really would rather not know what the rest of them get up to.

It all depends on if they can keep their teasing to a tolerable level of menacery. If not, well, it’ll be their own fault, and Hongjoong will just wash his hands of the matter entirely. Blood for blood, and all that.

Hongjoong sighs, rolling his head to crack his neck. “I don’t think we’ll both have enough time for a shower.”

“That’s easy, hyung,” Wooyoung says breezily, schooling his expression into one of innocence—but Hongjoong is unconvinced. “We’ll just take one together.”

“…”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself. Promise.”

Hongjoong narrows his eyes, giving Wooyoung a hard once-over. “…I don’t believe you.”

“That’s too bad,” Wooyoung sighs and slips his hand into Hongjoong’s. He leads him down the hall towards the bathroom, casting a glance over his shoulder. “You’ll just have to trust that I’ll behave myself because we’re running out of time.”

Well, he does have a point, one that Hongjoong can’t really argue.

As Hongjoong shuts the bathroom door behind them, he shrugs out of his shirt and says, with all of the sincerity he possesses, “If you touch me even once, I’ll knock you on your ass and kick you out of the shower.”

Wooyoung breaks out into delighted laughter that lights up his entire face. It does strange things to Hongjoong’s stomach, and he idly wonders if he’s going to throw up. He ignores the way his heart races, averting his gaze when Wooyoung starts to strip.

I’ll think about it later, he reminds himself—but he has a funny feeling that later will come a lot sooner than he wants it to, if Wooyoung has anything to say about it.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆