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The club is underground, both literally and figuratively.
Kim Hongjoong would have no clue it existed if he didn’t already run in the circles of the people that opened the space, Sopro, in the first place. Having the privilege of working in these spaces with these people comes with charisma, with being good at his job. Being the primary DJ of an exclusive underground club comes with just as many perks as it takes thorns in the side to get there, but Hongjoong is no stranger to sacrifice, to climbing a ladder or proving himself.
He’s billed four nights a week at Sopro, sometimes five if he’s feeling up to it, but sharing the gig with Mingi isn’t that bad, really. Mingi is energetic in a different way, committed to the bit in a way that Hongjoong respects but not one that he can imitate. Mingi thinks he’s good, projects it when he’s behind the tables, where Hongjoong just is good. He doesn’t have to try. He’s never lost a rap battle against Mingi, not for Mingi’s lack of trying, but Hongjoong knows he simply cannot be topped when it comes to making or rapping to a beat.
His boss, Yeosang, knows this, and knows how to keep Hongjoong happy.
Yeosang is permissive, forgiving, where Hongjoong is bold, brash, often one smirk away from serious trouble. He lets Hongjoong swing when he thinks he can win the fight, and that alone may be what keeps Hongjoong loyal: Kang Yeosang’s trust. He doesn’t push boundaries, not anymore, knowing what Yeosang will let him get away with—the drinking, the drugs, the sex, the self-destruction—Hongjoong stays within those lines.
God bless him, he tries.
He does try, until he meets Park Seonghwa.
The little slip of a thing comes in for the first time on a Saturday night. They’re dressed in a black, gauzy outfit with little pieces of lace lingerie peeking out from their chest, their hips, their long, smooth legs in a pair of stockings that disappear up into their skirt. Their hair is shaggy, dark, and their makeup darker, all red lips and smoky eyes. Around their neck is a black ribbon, tied in a bow on their Adam’s apple.
Hongjoong wants to unwrap that present before he’s even seen them move.
They lock eyes for just a moment as Hongjoong spins, gazing out into the sea of people, before they curl their arms around the neck of a very attractive man stopped in front of them. They shift the two of them so that the beautiful person can look over the shoulder of their taller friend. Sharp, dark eyes stare up at Hongjoong, watching him like there’s no one else in the room, like there isn’t a man pressed against them right then.
He winks down at them, grabbing the attention of more of the crowd than he plans, and playing it off quickly like it hadn’t been meant for one person, somewhere in the middle of the crowd.
The beautiful stranger looks away then, whispering something to their friend, who turns and looks up at Hongjoong as well, just for a moment, like he’s assessing him. For a moment, Hongjoong’s smile drops, afraid he had just tried to flirt with someone’s partner, but they look up at him again, spinning in the man’s grasp to face Hongjoong, to drop down in front of their friend and stand up slowly, their ass against their friend’s crotch while their eyes are on Hongjoong.
He reaches for his drink—some top-shelf whiskey on the rocks—and downs the rest of it. The heat scratches at the cold, distant itch the cocaine had left him with when the night kicked off. He asks Mingi to grab him another one.
When he looks back toward the beautiful stranger in the crowd, their back is to him, but that gives Hongjoong a new view of a large, long tattoo of a deep banded snake amongst black dahlias, darkly-shaded carnations. The sheer black fabric and lace of their lingerie obscure the image a little bit, but Hongjoong stares all the same, mesmerized.
Mingi returns with his drink, setting it down below the turntable.
“Yo, Mingi,” Hongjoong calls to him.
Mingi turns with raised eyebrows, shuffles closer. “Sup, captain?”
“The two in all black in the middle down there,” he nods toward the beautiful person and their dance partner. “Tell Jongho to bring them up to VIP,”
Mingi gives him a salute, disappearing off of the stage on another errand.
Hongjoong watches their head of security approach the two on the dancefloor, watches as Jongho taps them on their shoulders, bowing politely to both of them before motioning toward the stage, toward Hongjoong at the end of it, the lower potion of the DJ booth surrounded by attractive people of all possible genders. Hongjoong doesn’t care about what’s between people’s legs; he cares if they’re pretty, what they might look like with their lips wrapped around his cock at the end of the night.
This person, this beautiful stranger, Hongjoong could look at forever, would never get tired of watching them crawl between his legs. He thinks—fleetingly, drugged and intoxicated—that if he could, he would do anything to get them there. He would invite them up on stage and bend them over right there if he thought he could get away with it.
On a busier night, maybe he could.
But tonight, Hongjoong just wants to watch them dance, even if it is with their friend. The two of them climb up into the VIP dance area, each grabbing a complimentary glass of champagne and sipping on it greedily. The beautiful stranger looks up at Hongjoong as they sip their drink, winking back at him.
Hongjoong watches them the rest of the night.
Watches them as they grind on their dance partner, hold onto the back of his shirt, make a fist in his hair, bend over in front of him and grind back, looking over their shoulder like they’re begging to be fucked. They put on a show, and if it’s not put on for Hongjoong, he at least gets to enjoy every second of it as he spins. He watches as their hair gets damp with sweat, as they down half of a bottle of water before pouring the rest down the front of their shirt. The fabric of their outfit clings to them after that, leaving very little to Hongjoong’s imagination.
He licks his lips as he watches them, slows the music down as the night comes to an end.
By the time Hongjoong hands the table over to Mingi and makes his way down to the VIP area, the beautiful stranger and their partner are nowhere to be found. He scans the crowd but doesn’t see them anywhere, not even near the bar as he wanders closer and orders a last drink from Yunho, who makes a face at his friend’s gentle distress.
Hongjoong slams the drink that Yunho gives him, ignoring the way that Yunho’s look of concern becomes something closer to a grimace.
As he’s stalking toward the bathroom, annoyed and bored and going to check his makeup, Hongjoong runs directly into someone. His hands dart out to their hips, steadying the person and digging his fingers into their sides, the soft damp fabric under his hands giving way easily to wet silk underneath.
Hongjoong’s eyes widen, looking down at black lace, the sheer fabric, and long legs wrapped in stockings.
He’s holding the beautiful stranger, pressing his fingers into their skin.
“Oh, shit,” Hongjoong mutters, looking up to find them looking back to Hongjoong already, a surprised, coy smirk on their face. The same dark, hungry look in their eyes. “I am so fucking sorry,”
“You don’t have to be,” the stranger murmurs back. Their voice is low, sweet, dripping in something Hongjoong would happily lap at for hours. “You’ve got nice hands,”
Hongjoong assumes he’s flushed, but can’t tell if his face is warmer than his whole body. “You, uh—” he stammers. His gaze drops from the stranger’s eyes to their mouth, the smirk. The knowing. “You’re a good dancer,”
“You noticed,” they reach up, tucking their hair behind their ear. “Good,”
Before he can stop himself, his grip on their hips tightens, his fingers flexing as his brain short circuits. The stranger makes a muffled little whimper, squirming in Hongjoong’s hold. Hongjoong pulls his hands back like he’s been burned.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Hongjoong murmurs again, shaking his head at himself like, you’re blowing this. “I—Yeah, I noticed. You looked fucking good out there. That’s why I brought you two up,”
The stranger hums happily, their smirk becoming a shy half-smile. “You could have come down sooner,”
Hongjoong chuckles. “I was working, baby,”
“Next time,” the stranger murmurs, leaning in close to Hongjoong’s ear. Their breath their makes him shiver. “Bring me up to the booth then,”
“Your boyfriend won’t mind?” Hongjoong asks sweetly as the man the stranger had spent the night dancing with appears a few feet behind them, expression blank but watching closely. “Not the possessive type?”
“Co-worker,” the stranger corrects Hongjoong. “We came out after a show,”
Hongjoong hums, pulls back to look over the stranger again. He takes their hand, gives them a nudge to spin in front of him. They do, their outfit moving beautifully despite being damp, their hair haloing their head, and their smile soft, genuine. Hongjoong thinks he may be in love.
“Okay, baby,” he says, holding the stranger’s hand now. “I’ll put you on the list for Saturday, if you’re around,”
The stranger nods, their coy smirk back on their lips. Hongjoong can’t look away from them. “Park Seonghwa,”
After that, Hongjoong is ruined.
He thinks their name sounds familiar, but when he looks them up online, he finds that Park Seonghwa is the face of luxury around the world. They model in Paris, in Tokyo, making appearances on runways in Milan and Mexico City, as well. If a hub of fashion can be located, Park Seonghwa has been there, has walked the streets in elaborate, genderless outfits. They’ve more than made their mark on the world, but they make Seoul their home. He follows their social media profile, hoping the little check mark next to his own name will help him go unignored.
They follow him back at something like three o’clock in the morning the next night, liking Hongjoong’s last three posts with photos of himself on the cover.
Hongjoong lets it go to his head.
The next time he sees Park Seonghwa, they’re accompanied by a larger group this time, each one of their friends dressed in intoxicating, revealing outfits. Seonghwa is wearing all black again—a tight corset, a short black skirt and garter belt, and the same black ribbon tied in a bow around their neck. Hongjoong blows them a kiss as they lock eyes, switching the song in a sweet, syrup-slow way to something a little more intense, a little hotter, heavier.
He calls Mingi over, grinning as he hands the reigns over to his protege.
“It’s so early in the night, man!” Mingi hisses as Hongjoong tugs him closer. “You sure about this?!”
“What’s the boss gonna do, fire both of us?” Hongjoong asks, grinning devilishly as he puts a hand on the back of his friend’s neck. “I just wanna go dance for a little bit,”
Mingi nods, suddenly serious. “You can count on me,”
As Hongjoong makes his way down to the floor, he hears Mingi cut the song, yell fix on! and scratch in something loud, busy hyperpop that he spins in reverse as he feeds in another song. Hongjoong isn’t sure what count on me means when Mingi is the one saying it, but as he drops onto the dance floor, parts the crowd and sees Seonghwa beckoning him over, Hongjoong is hard pressed to care about much else, especially Yeosang’s business plan.
“Hi, princess,” Hongjoong murmurs as he slides against Seonghwa, who preens at the nickname. “You brought the whole crew tonight,”
“Easier for me to sneak away,” Seonghwa tells him, reaching up to run their fingertips against Hongjoong’s jawline. “You still want to get me alone?”
Hongjoong tilts his head into their touch. “Yes,” he sighs, his eyes fluttering closed. “Yeah, I do,”
Seonghwa leans in close to whisper to Hongjoong. “How much time do you have?”
“I’m yours,” Hongjoong tells them, too honest, looking up into Seonghwa’s eyes like he’s only seconds away from begging them to destroy him. “Can’t leave til we close, but,” he pauses, thinking. “We could go to the roof?”
Seonghwa takes his hand, nodding like they’re saying, lead the way.
Hongjoong does.
He holds the door for Seonghwa, then props it open with a brick as they move to explore the roof of the building. It’s not the tallest building in the area, but the freight elevator carried them up six floors before they climbed two more flights of stairs, so Hongjoong feels particularly tall as he approaches the edge of the roof. Seonghwa lingers behind him, watching Hongjoong investigate their surroundings while they wear that same coy smirk. It’s almost fond, Hongjoong notices as he approaches them again, backing Seonghwa against the wall by the exit.
“Can I kiss you?” Honjoong asks, his hands on Seonghwa’s waist, thumbs working under the edges of their corset.
They squirm under his touch, nodding, their lower lip caught between their teeth. Hongjoong reaches up, touches their chin, and tugs their lip free from their teeth with his thumb. His gaze flits from their mouth up to their eyes before he kisses them, swallowing down the little sounds Seonghwa makes as Hongjoong licks into their mouth.
Seonghwa’s hands slide up Hongjoong’s chest, arms up around his neck and holding him there, fingers idly playing with the hair at the base of Hongjoong’s neck He presses Seonghwa against the wall with his hips, relishing that the other his taller than him even if they are wearing strappy black heels. Hongjoong stretches up, nips at Seonghwa’s lower lip, and pulls them down to him, grinning into the kiss as Seonghwa follows him, tilting their head to lick into Hongjoong’s mouth again.
Before Hongjoong realizes what happened, his back is against the wall instead, and Seonghwa is stepping back, slipping their stockings down to below their knees before they sink to the floor, looking up at Hoongjoong like they’re asking permission.
“Yes, baby,” Hongjoong coos, like he would ever tell Seonghwa no.
Seonghwa makes quick work of Hongjoong’s pants, the button popping and zipper coming down with two quick flicks of their wrist. They look up at Hongjoong through their long, dark lashes, their bangs, biting their lip like they’re eager. Like they can’t wait to suck Hongjoong’s cock. They pull his fly open, leaning forward to nose at his cock through his underwear. Hongjoong sighs above them, his head hitting the bricks behind him with a hollow thunk. He jerks his head up, afraid to miss even a second of Seonghwa below him like this.
“You’re beautiful,” Hongjoong tells them as Seonghwa pulls his cock free from his boxers. He’s already hard, precum wetting the tip. Seonghwa laps at him without breaking eye contact. “Oh, fuck,”
Seonghwa swallows Hongjoong’s cock, fingers wrapped around the base flush with their lips. They pull off slowly, wetting his cock as they go and laving their tongue around the head. Hongjoong runs his fingers through their hair, making a gentle fist there and guiding Seonghwa back down. They move with him, humming happily around Hongjoong as he tries to take control.
“Gonna fuck your mouth, baby,” Hongjoong tells them, already panting. Seonghwa blinks up at him, dark eyes waiting, like they’re egging Hongjoong on. He rolls his hips, the tip of his cock touching the back of Seonghwa’s throat; they seem unbothered. “Fuck, Seonghwa,”
Seonghwa lets Hongjoong move them slow and steady, their hand sliding up Hongjoong’s thigh, pushing him back against the wall again. Hongjoong makes a strangled, surprised sound, looking down at Seonghwa as they start to bob their head faster, taking all of Hongjoong into his mouth each time.
Hongjoong doesn’t last long.
He tugs once on Seonghwa’s hair, harsher than before, tilting their head back as he looks down at them with flushes cheeks, mouth open an panting. He gestures to Seonghwa with his chin, like, pull off, but Seonghwa doesn’t. They bob their head again, pulling Hongjoong’s cock to rest the head on their tongue as he cums.
They stare at each other while Hongjoong cums, his fist in Seonghwa’s hair but barely tugging, too afraid to hurt them. Seonghwa catches what they can and wraps their lips around the head of his cock again, sucking gently as Hongjoong comes down. He groans above them, feeling his eyes roll back in his head. His soul leave his body.
Seonghwa tucks Hongjoong back into his underwear, zips his pants for him, all while licking their lips, like they can’t get enough of him. They stand from the ground, fixing their stockings, their corset. From their pocket, the pull a tiny perfume roller and lipstick. Hongjoong watches them intently, like anything missed with Seonghwa is a waste of their time. He watches as Seonghwa fixes their lipstick in the dark reflection of the window nearby, rolls perfume onto their neck and wrists before turning to Hongjoong again with that same coy smirk that makes his knees feel weak.
They take the few steps back toward Hongjoong with a swing in their hips, reaching for him as they get close.
Seonghwa makes fists in Hongjoong’s jacket, tugs at him. “I’m cold,”
Hongjoong gives them his jacket—this vintage, distressed leather thing that he loves, that he swims in while it’s only one size too big on him. On Seonghwa, it hangs off of their shoulders. They roll the sleeves up, giving a little turn as Hongjoong stares at them, reaching out to touch Seonghwa’s hip again as they spin.
“How do I look?” Seonghwa asks, peeking at Hongjoong over their shoulder.
Hongjoong looks them up and down. “Like you’re coming home with me,”
Seonghwa pouts, a soft little groan coming from low in their throat. “I can’t tonight,” they say, lower lip stuck out so far Hongjoong thinks about biting them again. “Early call time tomorrow,”
Hongjoong reaches for them where he leans heavily against the wall, tugging Seonghwa close when they take his hand. He runs his hands up Seonghwa’s back underneath the jacket, smirking this tiny, fond little thing when his bare fingers touch Seonghwa’s skin above the corset and they shiver.
“You’re my guest,” Hongjoong tells them. “Any time you want to come in, you’ll be on the list.”
Seonghwa preens. “You’re spoiling me,”
“You should be spoiled,” Hongjoong coos, lightly kissing their jawline. “Look at you,”
Seonghwa ducks their head, their ears and cheeks pink. “I like it when you call me pretty,”
“You’re gorgeous, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong tells them honestly, trying to catch their gaze as they look away.
“We should go back inside before I freeze,” Seonghwa murmurs, moving to nose at Hongjoong’s neck. “Before you get fired,”
Hongjoong clicks his tongue, a tch sound. “Mingi has it covered,” he says, moving to hold the door open for Seonghwa, to kick the brick away from where he’d propped it. “He’s a good DJ, just, like, kinda overzealous sometimes,”
Seonghwa chuckles, taking Hongjoong’s hand as they walk down the stairwell. When they get back to the main floor, Seonghwa disappears into the crowd with one last barely-there kiss to Hongjoong’s cheek. He touches his cheek like he’s in a rom-com, watching Seonghwa disappear into the crowd toward the bar.
The next time Hongjoong sees Seonghwa, he’s not even working.
Seonghwa is, maybe, but Hongjoong is getting coffee and a bagel, a quick breakfast after staying up too late, absolutely demolishing any semblance of a sleep schedule. He has his sunglasses on indoors, fighting a headache he knows only sleep will cure as the bell above the door jingles. Hongjoong turns as he waits near the counter, blinking like he can’t believe what he’s seeing manifest before him.
It turns out, Seonghwa is somehow even more beautiful in the daylight. More beautiful when they’re wearing Hongjoong’s jacket, laid over their broad shoulders like a cape.
They’re talking with someone—the man they came to the club with, Choi San, from Hongjoong’s less than professional research, another model at Seonghwa’s agency—as they approach the counter, missing Hongjoong off to their left, hiding in the corner like the gremlin he feels like in that moment.
He waits, watching them as Seonghwa orders their coffee, offers to pay for San, who pays for both of them instead. Seonghwa playfully swats at San’s arm, frowning at him as they grumble something about it being their turn.
As they’re facing San, they stop, looking at Hongjoong behind him. A smile breaks over their face, bright and happy. Hongjoong melts a little bit.
“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa calls, stepping around San to approach him. They reach out toward him like they’re going for a handshake. Hongjoong takes their hand, kisses their knuckles instead. Even with his sunglasses on, Hongjoong can see the way Seonghwa’s cheeks flush. “What are you doing up so early?”
Hongjoong laughs, pawing awkwardly at the back of his neck while San approaches behind Seonghwa and nods once in greeting. “I, uh—I haven’t gone to bed yet,” Hongjoong admits, shrugging a shoulder like that doesn’t matter much to him. “Worked last night, went to afters for a while, then worked on some beats at home,”
“Wow,” San murmurs, looking as close to genuinely surprised as he probably can. “How do you do that?” Seonghwa turns to San, taps their nose twice. San nods in easy understanding. “Ah, I see,”
Hongjoong shrugs again, picking up his order as the barista calls out his name. “Not all the time, princess,” he says without thinking. He takes a quick sip of his coffee, glancing at Seonghwa for their reaction. They simply look at him, unbothered by the nickname. “Just on the nights I need to get shit done,”
“Don’t let us keep you,” Seonghwa says, touching Hongjoong’s arm. They lean in, kissing Hongjoong’s cheek. “You should get some sleep,”
San gives Hongjoong a little wave. “I’m San, by the way,” he says, smiling gently at Hongjoong. “I—we sort of—not met really, but you invited us to V—”
Hongjoong laughs, nods. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, shuffling the items he’s holding to offer San a hand to shake. He muffles a yawn behind his coffee cup. “Kim Hongjoong—nice to meet’cha,”
They part ways after that.
Hongjoong slumps out of the coffee shop, making his way around the building’s walls of windows toward his apartment just a few blocks up. He glances into the shop again, watching Seonghwa watch him go. He blows a kiss before he rounds the corner, grinning to himself as he catches the barest glimpse of a flush on Seonghwa’s cheeks before they’re out of view.
When he wakes up from his nap around one in the afternoon, Hongjoong has a handful of DMs from Seonghwa on social media. He reads them sleepily.
Hi <3
You should give me your phone number
I want to send you bts from today’s shoot
Hongjoong has never replied to a message faster in his life. A few moments later, he’s receiving boudoir photos of Seonghwa in blue lingerie.
The first, Seonghwa is on their back on a well-made bed, head toward the camera and chin tilted up, defiant, as they look into the camera like they’re waiting to be challenged, to be told that they can’t wear something like this. Hongjoong’s mouth waters, scanning the length of Seonghwa’s body, the way the lace stretches over their thighs, their stomach, the way Hongjoong can almost see their nipples through the bralette.
In the next one, Seonghwa is sitting up on their knees, facing away from the camera but looking back over their shoulder like they’re asking him for something. The bralette is undone in the back, hanging just barely onto Seonghwa’s shoulders, sliding slightly down their arm. The underwear turns out to be a thong, a garter belt holding it and the matching blue stockings in place as Seonghwa bends over just slightly.
Hongjoong saves the third photo before he looks at it too closely.
Seonghwa is fully bent over in this one, their head ducked down, ass out like they’re waiting. Waiting for Hongjoong. He grips his phone tighter, eyes grazing over the curve of their ass, the blue sheer fabric stretched against their soft, creamy tanned skin. Their hand is fisted in the blanket, the barest hint of a handprint on their ass.
Hongjoong squeezes his phone so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t snap clean in half.
youre fucking killing me baby
that last picture is getting framed in my apt
Seonghwa laugh reacts to that, typing for a moment.
That wasn’t part of the shoot
Sannie was being encouraging
Hongjoong chuckles. He reaches down, idly stroking his cock as he looks at the pictures again for another long moment.
tell him thank you for me yeah
youre so sexy seonghwa
Their reply takes a moment to come through, but Hongjoong busies himself with his hand on his cock in the meantime, staring at the photo of Seonghwa bent over as he strokes himself with his own spit.
I’ll send you more later
I’m still on set
Long long day
:(
Hongjoong hums, biting down on his lower lip. He knows what kind of work Seonghwa does, but he still can’t help but find himself feeling jealousy toward their coworkers, toward the people that see this side of Seonghwa regularly. He knows he would make their life hard on set, especially seeing Seonghwa working like this, watching someone smack their ass hard enough to leave a mark in the name of encouragement.
He thinks about the way Seonghwa pushed him against the wall before they sucked his cock, the way they took control from San on the dance floor, spun for Hongjoong when they met with barely a nudge, showing themselves off willingly.
God, Hongjoong isn’t sure how he got so lucky.
When he cums, it’s Seonghwa’s name on his lips. He doesn’t know anyone else’s the way he knows theirs now. The way he calls for them in his empty loft, bucking his hips up into his fist unsatisfyingly, pretending he’s fucking the real thing. That he has Seonghwa in his bed where they belong. He pulls his shirt off, cleans himself up, and slumps back into bed, sleeping for another hour or so.
That night, he doesn’t expect to see Seonghwa, but when they walk in with their model friends, they look up to Hongjoong immediately, smiling like they’re excited to see him.
Hongjoong lets it goes to his head again.
He pulls Seonghwa and their friends up to VIP immediately, watching their group shimmy their way up the stairs, none of them missing a beat as they move. Hongjoong sends them a round of drinks, watching as the server points up at Hongjoong when Seonghwa starts looking for someone to thank. They wink up at Hongjoong, who gestures up, like, come up with me. Seonghwa wastes no time. Jongho points Seonghwa toward the spiral iron staircase, and before Hongjoong knows it, their arms are snaking around his waist, hugging him from behind.
“Hi, princess,” Hongjoong murmurs, turning his head to look over his shoulder. “You look good,”
Seonghwa hums in Hongjoong’s ear. “Just ‘good’?”
Hongjoong turns in their hold, looking them over, up and down slowly. Seonghwa looks as good as ever. They’re wearing a black satin dress, form fitting and shimmering as they move, under Hongjoong’s leather jacket. A long, gnarled string of pearls hangs from their neck. Hongjoong reaches out, tugs at it playfully. Seonghwa moves closer, like Hongjoong is pulling their leash, and smirks at him.
“You look like you’re about to make everyone jealous of me dancing up here,” Hongjoong tells them as Seonghwa slides his jacket off of their shoulders. “Maybe even Mingi,” he says, nodding toward where his friend is standing nearby, scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t look up.
Seonghwa smiles politely, steps closer to Hongjoong. “He’s not really my type,”
“Oh, shit,” Hongjoong mumbles, looking at them seriously. “You don’t like DJ’s?”
Seonghwa grabs his chin, kisses him hard on the mouth while he holds him, then pulls away, rolling their eyes at Hongjoong, who laughs as he turns back toward the turntables. He fades the song out, plays with the intro of another, all while Seonghwa sways beside him. Their hands are on their thighs, their dress pulled up to expose their legs up until just above their knees. Tonight, their stockings are more intricate, a delicate pattern of stars and sparkles cascading down from their thighs.
Hongjoong has a difficult time focusing with Seonghwa there, shaking their ass to the music he’s making. It drives him crazy in the best way possible. He leaves the echo and reverb on for too long, moving too kiss Seonghwa’s shoulder as they move closer to him, spinning in a twisted half circle around Hongjoong.
“I’m going to make sure Sannie isn’t too lonely with Wooyoung,” Seonghwa tells him, brushing their lips against his ear. “They just met yesterday. We’re showing Wooyoung the town,”
Hongjoong hums, turning to face them and slide his hands down around to Seonghwa’s ass, palming it in his hands. Seonghwa curls in toward Hongjoong, dropping a little peck on the corner of his mouth.
“Come home with me,” Hongjoong says. He’s not asking. If anything, he’s pleading at this point.
Seonghwa smiles at him sadly, reaches up to touch Hongjoong’s cheek. “Wooyoung is staying with me until he gets a place,”
“Give him your keys,” Hongjoong tries halfheartedly, kneading his fingers into Seonghwa’s ass. He already knows the answer is no. “Fuck, he can sleep on my couch, I just want you there,”
“I’ll come say goodnight before we leave,” Seonghwa promises, leaving Hongjoong with a quick peck on the mouth and a demure little wave as they take the spiral staircase back down.
Mingi is at his side before Hongjoong can blink, hunched down to his height and whispering.
“Captain!” He hisses, grinning from ear to ear and shaking Hongjoong’s shoulder. “They’re so hot,” Mingi tells him, his eyes wide like, score! “That’s who Yeosang called your girlfriend?”
Hongjoong laughs loud, tipping his head back with it. Of course Yeosang told Mingi about Seonghwa, about their name being a permanent addition under Hongjoong’s guest list.
A guest list that had been blank since Sopro’s conception.
“Yeah, Mingki,” Hongjoong rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “They’re not my girlfriend yet,”
Mingi nods seriously, like he’s making a mental note of that, before he backs away, asks if Hongjoong wants another drink. He nods, shrugs, doesn’t care. Mingi brings him one anyway. As he sips it, his phone buzzes in his pocket.
It’s a photo from Seonghwa.
As he opens it, Hongjoong holds his breath, expecting something scandalous, something naked, but he’s met with a dark photo of two people making out near the bar. When he squints, Hongjoong can see Yunho’s grimace in the background, can feel his desire to shoo the couple. A second message comes in quickly.
Turns out they might like each other
Hongjoong laughs out loud, nearly choking as he tries to swallow his drink quickly enough to let the cackle out. He can tell exactly where they are, exactly who they’re bothering, and can’t stop laughing at the photo, even as he types his half-desperate reply.
so they go home together
you come home with me :3
Seonghwa likes the message, but doesn’t reply.
Hongjoong frowns, stows his phone away, and moves to slow the music down, some English R&B song bumping through the speakers as he finishes his drink. He sets the mix he finished recently to close out the show and wanders downstairs to the bar, clearing out after last call. Mingi sits on a stool, his chin in his hand as he watches his boyfriend work behind the bar.
Yunho sees Hongjoong coming, nods to him. “What’cha need”
“A shot and a bump,” he tells him, nudging Mingi for the latter. He looks up, nods at his friend. “Back upstairs,”
As Hongjoong moves to stand, a well-manicured hand slips into his on the bar top.
He tries not to jump, but he does, whipping his head to the side. He stares at Seonghwa for all of two seconds before his shock is melting into a grin. Before he’s pulling Seonghwa’s hand up to kiss their knuckles. He turns, tugging Seonghwa closer as he waves for Mingi and Yunho’s attention. His friends turn to them, both grinning like teenagers.
“This is Park Seonghwa,” Hongjoong gestures to them, slides his hand down Seonghwa’s side.
Seonghwa blushes, but doesn’t stop him. “Nice to meet you, friends of Hongjoong,”
“Friends is…” Yunho jokes, shaking a flat palm in the air like he’s saying, so-so. “He’s alright,”
Mingi snickers, sipping at his drink. “Yeah, he’s my boss,” he says, pretending to scowl. “I hate that guy,” he adds unconvincingly.
“You tell’em, baby,” Yunho murmurs fondly, rolling his eyes behind Mingi.
“You hate me so much you’re gonna close out for me,” Hongjoong asks, sweet as sugar. “Right, Mingles? Baby?”
Mingi blushes at the stupid nickname, but grins, nods, and salutes Hongjoong with the hand holding his drink, somehow managing not to spill anything on himself as he does. “Your wish is my command, cap,”
They scurry upstairs to grab Hongjoong’s bag, his jacket. Mingi follows, pulling a tiny baggie from his pocket, a demitasse spoon borrowed from Yunho at the bar. He offers both Hongjoong and Seonghwa a bump, using the black mirror of Hongjoong’s phone screen as a reflection to check. Seonghwa flexes their fingers, then reaches up to wipe at Hongjoong’s nose with their thumb. Their pupils blown wide, Hongjoong feels like Seonghwa is looking deeper that surface level, somewhere maybe he doesn’t want to be looked at.
Instead of dwelling on it, Hongjoong takes Seonghwa’s hand and leads them out to the parking lot. In the last row, backed into a parking space, is a sleek white coupe with dark tinted windows and a vanity license plate that almost identically matches Hongjoong’s social media handle. Hongjoong opens the passenger door for Seonghwa, holding their hand as they settle into the seat, their legs crossed at their ankles and looking prettily up at Hongjoong as he closes the door.
They make it back uptown to Hongjoong’s loft in no time. He drives with his hand on Seonghwa’s thigh, his fingers playing with the edges of their stockings, the soft skin of their inner thigh, his pinky dragging against the curve of Seonghwa’s cock under their dress. Hongjoong watches them shiver, arch against the seat and moan this low inviting sound.
He drives a little faster than he should. Especially coked up, one handed, lethally distracted by the person beside him.
As they stumble into Hongjoong’s loft, he shoves at the jacket on Seonghwa’s shoulders, pushing it to the ground while they kick their shoes off. They come together like magnets after that; Seonghwa cups their hands on Hongjoong’s cheeks, holding him so delicately while he laps at Hongjoong’s tongue, licking into his mouth.
Hongjoong moans into the kiss, his hands at Seonghwa’s hips as he backs them further into his apartment. Down the hallway toward his bedroom, where Hongjoong scoops Seonghwa up into his arms and sets them down on the end of his bed. He steps back and pulls his shirt over his head, sheds the layer underneath until he’s standing there shirtless in front of Seonghwa, finally sitting in his bed where Hongjoong has wanted them.
Seonghwa shifts where they sit, looking up at Hongjoong through their lashes, the glitter on their eyes sparkling in the soft light of the room around them. They reach down, pulling the fabric of their dress up to their thighs where they bunch it above their stockings, exposing just the barest wink of bare skin above the stars.
They move at the same time, Hongjoong swears, but it doesn’t really matter.
He sweeps forward to crawl over Seonghwa as they move to lay back on the bed, pushing themselves with Hongjoong until their head is just barely on the pillows above them. Hongjoong kisses at their arm, their collarbones, their neck, whatever they can reach as Seonghwa gets comfortable, settling into the plush grey blanket beneath them.
“You look good in my bed, princess,” Hongjoong murmurs, nosing at Seonghwa’s jaw. “Been dreaming about you here,”
“Tell me what you dream about, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispers back, sliding their hands down Hongjoong’s bare back. Halfway down, they curl their fingers, dragging their nails down his back instead. Hongjoong shivers, tensing up under Seonghwa’s touch. “Let me do that for you,”
“Oh, fuck, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong warbles, pressing a kiss to Seonghwa’s collarbone to shut himself up. “I just want to fuck you,”
“Do you want me to take control?” Seonghwa asks.
The question makes Hongjoong feel insane. He nods before he can think too hard about it.
Seonghwa nudges Hongjoong onto his back, straddling his thighs in one fluid motion, dress riding up around their thighs. They smirk down at Hongjoong, who looks up at them with a mixture of surprise and desire. He slides his hands up Seonghwa’s thighs, then slides his hands back down with the stockings, bunching them against the bed above Seonghwa’s knees. He pauses as Seonghwa grabs his wrists, forcing Hongjoong’s hands above his head.
“Don’t touch until I say so,” Seonghwa purrs as they let go of Hongjoong’s wrists. He swallows thickly but doesn’t move. “Good boy,”
Hongjoong bites his lip. “Everything’s in the nightstand,” he explains, nodding to his left.
Seonghwa crawls over and fishes out the lube, a condom, settling themselves back on Hongjoong’s lap with both in hand. He curls his nails into the palms of his hands, desperate to touch them, and says as much out loud with a groan.
“You can touch me if you don’t try to take over,” Seonghwa tells him. They set the lube and condom in the middle of Hongjoong’s chest, shifting in his lap to pull their dress off over their head. “You have to do what I tell you to,”
Hongjoong nods dumbly as Seonghwa sits nearly naked in his lap, the only fabric between them a sheer thong struggling to hold Seonghwa within it much longer. He reaches down, running his fingers over the fabric, the curve of Seonghwa’s cock where it stretches the waistband. Hongjoong slips his fingers beneath the fabric, brings his other hand down, and rips the thong, tearing the lace of the waistband and the sheer black fabric of the thong itself. Seonghwa gasps but doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t say anything or scold him. They lean down to mouth at one of Hongjoong’s nipples, biting him just barely to hear him hiss above them.
“Please, princess,” Hongjoong huffs, rubbing his thumb along the slit of Seonghwa’s cock. He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking at his thumb while he pleads with Seonghwa. “Fuck, I need to be inside you,”
“Patience,” Seonghwa coos, wiggling their hips in his lap. They roll into Hongjoong’s touch, hissing softly at the dry grip. “Want you to open me up like this,”
Hongjoong doesn’t hesitate. He snags the lube off of his chest and coats his fingers, slipping the first of them into Seonghwa with no trouble. They keen on top of him, arching their back and rolling back into Hongjoong’s touch.
“Oh, fuck,” Seonghwa murmurs, ducking down close to Hongjoong. “Hongjoong,”
They kiss at the corner of his mouth until Hongjoong tilts his head, takes their mouth with his own, all while pressing a second finger into Seonghwa, eyes open to watch them shiver as he does. Seonghwa rocks in Hongjoong’s lap, fucking themselves back on his fingers while Hongjoong scissors them, spreads Seonghwa open. Their fingers curl in the blanket by Hongjoong’s shoulders, pulling at the fabric like they’re getting close. Hongjoong chuckles, slowing his pace and moving to suck on Seonghwa’s neck.
“Fuck me,” Seonghwa murmurs, looking up at Hongjoong with dark, wide eyes, begging him. “Baby, please,”
“Thought you’d never ask,” Hongjoong grumbles.
He slips his fingers out of Seonghwa slowly, moving his hands to their hips. Seonghwa gasps as Hongjoong’s fingers leave them, squirming back into his touch as he pulls away. Hongjoong laughs again, high on Seonghwa, and flips them, pressing Seonghwa’s back against the bed. He untangles the ripped thong, tossing it somewhere behind him.
He thinks he’ll probably keep it.
Seonghwa bucks their hips up off of the bed, but Hongjoong squeezes their hip, pressing them flush to the blanket and holding them there as he looks over them. His gaze wanders up and down Seonghwa’s lithe chest, their curved hips, the length of their legs and arch of their neck. Hongjoong mutters something about Seonghwa being too pretty for him, making quick work of his own pants’ zipper and button. He pushes his pants and boxers down just enough to get his cock out an scrambles for the bottle of lube nearby while Seonghwa watches him, breathing heavily below him. Hongjoong rolls the condom on and coats his cock in lube, watching Seonghwa back as he does.
“You ready for me, princess?” Hongjoong asks as he presses the tip of his cock against Seonghwa’s entrance. “This is what I fucking dream about,”
Seonghwa whimpers, nods, their lower lip stuck between their teeth. Hongjoong ducks down and kisses their cheek as he pushes into them, wishing he record and play over and over and over the way that Seonghwa sighs against Hongjoong’s neck as he slides into them to the hilt. He groans as he bottoms out, rolling his hips against Seonghwa like he can’t stop himself, like he wants to be deeper still.
As Hongjoong slowly pulls back out, he rakes his eyes over Seonghwa again, obsessed with the way they’re breathing heavily already, the flush high on their cheeks and the way their bangs cover their eyes just enough to make their gaze look somehow darker still. With the hand he lubed up, Hongjoong takes Seonghwa’s cock in his hand and strokes slowly, matching the torturous speed of his hips.
“Oh, my god,” Seonghwa arches their back off of the bed again, their hands jumping up to touch Hongjoong, petting at his arms like they just need to be touching him somehow. More than they already are. “Yes, yes, yes,” they pant, rolling their hips down in a rhythm that nearly matches Hongjoong’s. “Just like that, baby,”
Hongjoong feels like his head is going to explode, like he can’t breathe right, and what air he does get comes in whiny little gasps as he fucks Seonghwa like its what he was born to do. Seonghwa babbles while they move, clawing at Hongjoong’s back and lifting their legs to wrap around his waist. Hongjoong just fucks them harder, loosing himself in them.
When Seonghwa cums, they bite down on Hongjoong’s shoulder, hard enough that he gasps and hisses, breaking his rhythm for just a second, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Seonghwa, whole digs their nails into Hongjoong’s back, fucking themselves down on Hongjoong as he tries to meet them halfway. He cums only a second later, watching Seonghwa shake with his cock in him.
He pulls out slowly, ties off the condom, and leans down to lick Seonghwa clean. They hum this contented little sound while Hongjoong laps at them slowly, his eyes on the way they’re smiling, fucked out and happy and warm in a way that makes Hongjoong’s chest tight. He pulls away, disappears into the bathroom to toss the condom, and grab a wet washcloth, then returns to wipe down Seonghwa’s stomach.
They look up at him with that same smile, reaching up to touch Hongjoong’s cheek. “Thank you, baby,”
Hongjoong feels himself blush. “Like it when you call me that,” he tells them, setting the washcloth on the nightstand and curling around Seonghwa, who turns onto their side to make themselves the little spoon. Hongjoong kisses their back, mumbles against their skin. “Thank you,”
Seonghwa goes still, then starts to shake gently, like they’re trying to hide their laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” they say, snuggling back against Hongjoong for consolation as they giggle. “I’ve never had someone thank me after sex,”
Hongjoong hums, shrugs a shoulder lazily. “I’ve never slept with anyone like you,”
“Same,” Seonghwa murmurs. They pull Hongjoong’s hand up to kiss his knuckles softly; as much as he wants to, Hongjoong doesn’t ask what they mean by that. “Your bed is so nice,”
“Good,” Hongjoong murmurs back, dropping another sweet kiss on their back. “You’re never leaving it now,”
Seonghwa chuckles softly. They shift slowly in Hongjoong’s grasp, rolling to face him with their head pillowed on his arm as they look at him. “I’ll stay,”
Hongjoong leans in and kisses them. “Can I take you on a date?”
“Of course,” Seonghwa tells him, their smile becoming shy. “I’d love that,”