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"What did you do?"
Those were the first words out of Hong's mouth the second Nut stepped through the door.
Nut blinked, confused, as he pushed the door shut behind him and toed off his shoes. Had he done something to upset Hong? The greeting was nothing like Hong's usual soft hello and half smile, and an apology was already sitting on the tip of his tongue—even though he had no clue what he'd done wrong.
"Huh?"
"Your hair! What the hell did you do to your hair?"
Oh. That. Nut's hand drifted up to the short strands, still soft and a little slippery from whatever the stylist had worked into them. It was a big change. He'd been growing his hair out for months, and now it was shorter than it had been in a long, long time. But he'd needed something new.
"I had it cut," he said with a small shrug. It wasn't a big deal to him. Hair grows back. And he liked it this way, at least for now.
"I can see that." Hong's voice came out flat and dry, and he looked like he was using every last drop of patience not to roll his eyes. "But why would you do this?"
Nut hung his jacket by the door and crossed the room to drop down beside Hong on the sofa. He leaned in, pressed a quick sniff-kiss to Hong's cheek, and settled close, still trying to work out why a simple haircut had left Hong looking so wounded. It was just hair.
"MV shoot's tomorrow. Felt like I wanted a fresh look."
And that was true. The entire process for the song didn't really scare him. He'd watched Hong go through it, and William and Tui long before that, and it hadn't looked too hard. What gnawed at him was something else—what if his didn't do as well? He was so proud of Hong. Number one for weeks in a row. A million views and listens in barely any time at all. But a win that big left a weight on the rest of them. Nut wasn't sure he could match it. Still, he was proud of the work he'd put in. The MV was the last piece of the puzzle, and a new look felt like the right way to start it.
"You just made it worse." Hong's shoulders sank, and his whole face fell with them. "I can't believe you cut your puppy hair. What am I supposed to hold onto now?"
It wasn't often that Nut got to hear Hong whine like this, and he loved every second of it. Not that he'd ever say so out loud—no point handing the devil more ammunition. He was weak enough around Hong as it was.
He couldn't hold back a laugh as Hong's whole expression crumpled—pure dismay, real disappointment—as he reached out and tried to catch a lock of hair, only for the short strands to slip straight through his fingers. That made him pout even harder.
Words alone weren't going to fix this, Nut could tell. But maybe a little distraction would.
He moved fast, swinging a leg over Hong's lap to straddle him, and pushed his own hand up through Hong's hair, giving the strands a tug. "You didn't hear me complain when you cut yours."
Hong crossed his arms, stubborn, refusing to play along. "That's only because you love it short."
"Exactly." A grin tugged at Nut's mouth. "It lets me see more of your pretty face. Your gorgeous neck. That cute little mole on your ear." He brushed a fingertip over the mole as he said it, knowing Hong would crack sooner or later.
When Hong dug his heels in like this, there was really only one way to get him to move.
Nut leaned down and pressed his lips to the line of Hong's jaw—an open, unhurried kiss he let linger there. He found Hong's hand, gently pried it open, and guided it up into his hair. His mouth slid lower, to the soft side of Hong's neck, while he curled Hong's fingers around a thick fistful of his chestnut strands and pulled.
"See? You can still steer me wherever you want." He smiled against Hong's skin, feeling him finally start to give. "It's still long enough for you to play like Rémy with Alfredo. I'm your puppet."
Hong gave a testing tug, just to see if Nut really meant it. A small sting shot across Nut's scalp, but he hid the wince behind a smile the second he caught the spark lighting up in Hong's eyes. Distraction successful. So he wasn't the least bit surprised when those fingers steered his mouth right back to that pale neck, waiting for his kisses.
Hong loved having the upper hand, loved that thrill of being in control. And Nut loved Hong. So it was the easiest thing in the world to melt into putty and let those strong fingers in his hair lead the way. Wherever Hong wanted to take him, Nut would follow without a second thought. Especially when the path led to Hong's soft lips on his, and hong’s tasty skin on Nut's tongue.
Hong's hands in his hair weren't enough. Not even close. Nut's own hand went wandering—over the side of Hong's neck, down the slope of his shoulder, along his arm, until it reached his waist and tried to grab a fistful of him. The couch behind Hong's back got in the way. Frustrated, but nowhere near ready to give up, Nut shifted closer and climbed a little higher on Hong's lap. His fingers twisted into the soft cotton of Hong's t-shirt, dragging across his nipple just to feel him stir and get him worked up.
It worked. Hong let out a sharp little breath, his hips shifting up underneath Nut, and the hand in Nut's hair tightened before loosening just long enough for Hong to peel his t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere off the side of the couch. Then they were back, fisting into Nut's hair and pressing his face flush against the warm bare skin of Hong's chest. Hong steered him deliberately, dragging his mouth from the dip of his collarbone down the smooth plane of his chest, guiding him straight to where he wanted.
Nut didn't need words to know what Hong was after. He grinned against the skin, gave a pleased hum, and let his lips close around the pink bud. He flicked his tongue over it and felt Hong's whole body go taut beneath him.
"Not so mad about the hair now, are you?" Nut murmured, satisfied, lips still brushing the sensitive skin.
Hong scoffed, but the sound came out breathless and far too soft to land as the insult he'd intended. "Don't get cocky."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Nut smiled and dipped back down, switching to the other side, dragging his teeth gently over the hardening nub just to hear that little catch in Hong's breath again. He loved every sound he could pull out of him, every involuntary jerk of his hips, every flutter of his lashes. Hong always tried so hard to keep his composure, to stay the one holding the reins. And Nut loved nothing more than the moment that control started to slip.
The hand in his hair tugged again, harder this time, dragging his head back up. Nut went willingly, letting Hong tilt his face exactly where he wanted it, until their mouths met. Hong rocked up against him, and Nut groaned into his mouth at the friction, his own arousal pressing hard against the front of his jeans. He ground down in answer, chasing that delicious drag, swallowing the broken little whimper that spilled from Hong's lips when their lengths lined up.
There was nothing sexier than Hong coming undone underneath him, hips stuttering up to meet his, all that hard-won composure dissolving into nothing but want. The grip in Nut's hair had gone loose and aimless, no longer steering. Hong's mouth had fallen open against his, breath coming in short hitching gasps every time the friction caught him at the perfect angle.
The couch was too small, and Hong's back was already pressed awkwardly into the cushions, and Nut wasn't about to let anything more than this happen on a piece of furniture that left both of them with cricks in their necks. Not when he had a perfectly good bed two rooms away.
He pulled back, just enough to break the kiss, and Hong actually chased after him with a sound of protest that went straight to Nut's gut.
"Where do you think you're going?" Hong's voice was wrecked. He looked thoroughly debauched, and Nut wanted to take a picture and frame it. Wanted to ruin him completely adn show off to the entire world.
"Bedroom." Nut pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, then pulled away and stood, holding out a hand. "Couch is too small. And I have plans for you that need more room."
Hong stared at the offered hand, still breathing hard, that stubborn streak warring with the obvious heat in his eyes. For a second Nut thought he might refuse out of sheer principle, just to keep the upper hand a little longer.
Then Hong took his hand and let himself be hauled up off the couch. "You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood about the hair," Hong muttered, but his fingers were already curling into the hem of Nut's shirt, tugging it free.
"Mm. Sure that's what this is." Nut walked backwards toward the bedroom, pulling Hong with him by the wrist, grinning the whole way. "Forgiveness."
Hong rolled his eyes, but he was finally smiling now too. "Shut up and get in the room."
Nut got barely two steps further before Hong's patience snapped. Strong hands caught him by the waist and spun him hard, and suddenly Nut's back hit the wall, knocking the breath out of him. Hong pressed in close, lining their hips up and grinding down with a roll that had Nut's eyes fluttering shut. One hand found its way back into his hair, fingers twisting tight and yanking his head to the side, baring his throat. Hong's mouth was already there, hot against the line of his neck.
"Just properly testing I can still make you do what I want," Hong murmured against his skin, voice low and smug.
Nut didn't bother answering. He just grinned, lazy and dazed, and let his tongue lap gently at the spot where Hong's neck met his collarbone, savoring the warm taste of him. Two could play that game.
The hum of approval that rumbled out of Hong told Nut everything he needed to know. He angled his hips up, chasing the friction, and felt Hong shudder against him—the supposed display of dominance crumbling at the edges already.
"For someone so set on proving a point," Nut breathed, dragging his lips up the column of Hong's throat to his ear, "you're shaking an awful lot."
"Shut up." But Hong's grip tightened, and he ground down harder, as if to drown out the words with sensation. The wall was solid behind Nut's back, and he hooked one leg around the back of Hong's thigh to pull him in closer, eliminating whatever scrap of space remained between them.
Hong crushed their mouths together, swallowing whatever clever thing Nut had been about to say next. Nut's hands found Hong's hips and gripped, urging him into a rhythm that had them both gasping into each other's mouths within seconds.
"Bedroom," Nut managed, when they broke apart for air. "We were—the bedroom—"
Hong was, breathless and triumphant. "I'm finishing the point I was making."
Nut was laughing, helpless and fond, even as he tilted his head to give Hong's wandering mouth more room. "Fine. Make your point. Just—" His breath hitched as Hong's teeth scraped his throat. "Just don't leave a mark where the camera'll see it tomorrow."
Hong pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes dark and glittering with something that made Nut's stomach flip. "No promises."
And then he was kissing him again, and Nut decided the bedroom could wait after all. They did make it to the bedroom eventually—though "eventually" involved several more stops against doorframes and one near-collision with the dresser, both of them too tangled up in each other to watch where they were going. By the time the backs of Hong's knees hit the mattress, he'd already shed his jeans somewhere along the way, kicking them off with impatience.
Hong sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, all long lines and bare skin and that infuriating, knowing little smirk. The underwear strained against the hard line of him, and Nut's brain simply stopped functioning.
He didn't think. He just dropped. His knees hit the floor between Hong's spread thighs, and he leaned in, mouthing hot and open over the straining fabric before Hong could get a single smug word out. Whatever Hong had been about to say dissolved into a startled, broken groan, his head tipping back and his hips jerking up off the mattress.
"Fuck—Nut—" Hong's hand shot back into his hair, but the grip was just blind grasping. "You don't—warn a person—"
Nut hummed against him, the vibration earning another shudder, and dragged his lips slowly up the length of him through the cotton, soaking the fabric, feeling Hong twitch under the attention. "You wanted to make a point," he said, glancing up through his lashes, lips still brushing. "I'm making mine."
Hong's answering laugh came out wrecked and shaky. "That's—not fair."
"Mm." Nut hooked his fingers into the waistband and looked up at him, drinking in the sight—Hong undone, propped up on trembling arms. "Was it ever going to be?"
He tugged the underwear down before Hong could think of a comeback, and the sight of him fully bared had Nut leaning in without hesitation, breath warm against sensitive skin. Hong's whole body went rigid in anticipation, the hand in Nut's hair tightening hard enough to sting. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Hong's thigh first, just to be cruel.
Nut couldn't keep up the teasing—not with Hong so obviously desperate for it. His own patience snapped, and his mouth was sliding up, Hong's hand guiding him those last few inches.
The weight of Hong on his tongue still undid him every single time. That heavy, velvet drag of him, the way his hips couldn't help but chase the heat of Nut's mouth—it scrambled every coherent thought right out of Nut's head. He took him deeper, hollowing his cheeks, and the punched-out sound Hong made above him went straight to his core.
There was nothing else like having Hong come apart around him, every lick and suck pulling some new helpless noise out of that throat. Nut had had a plan, but the second Hong's thighs started trembling against his shoulders and that hand in his hair clenched tight, the plan dissolved entirely. Prepping, the bedside drawer, all of it forgotten. Right now there was only Hong, gasping his name, hips stuttering up into the wet heat of his mouth.
"Nut—Nut, I'm—" Hong's voice cracked clean in half, his other hand fisting into the sheets. "If you don't—I'm gonna—"
Nut just hummed and took him deeper, wrapping a hand around the base, stroking in time with the slide of his mouth. He looked up through his lashes, wanting to see it and catch the exact moment Hong shattered.
Hong's whole body went taut, his back arching off the mattress, a broken cry tearing out of him as he spilled over Nut's tongue. Nut worked him through every shudder, gentling his pace as Hong twitched and gasped and finally collapsed back against the bed, boneless, his chest heaving.
Nut pulled off slowly, pressing one last soft kiss to his hip, and looked up at the wreck he'd made. Hong's eyes were glassy, his mouth parted around puffs of air.
"So much for making your point," Nut said, voice rough, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning.
Hong threw an arm over his eyes, still breathing hard. "I hate you and your stupid hair," he managed weakly.
Nut climbed up onto the bed, settling himself over Hong, peppering kisses along his jaw and his cheek, holding back from his mouth. "You forgive me. Remember?"
A laugh shook out of Hong, breathless and helpless, and his arm dropped away from his face so he could look up at Nut with those dark, soft eyes. "You completely cheated."
"I improvised." Nut nuzzled into his neck. "I couldn’t let you get all sulky because of my haircut."
Hong's fingers came up, threading lazily through Nut's hair—the short strands he'd complained so bitterly about. He tugged, gentle this time.
"Give me a second," Hong murmured against his temple. "And then I'm getting you back for that."
Nut smiled into his skin, already aching, already wanting, but content to wait. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
Hong took his second, then a few more, his breathing slowly evening out beneath Nut's weight. His fingers stayed buried in Nut's hair the whole time, occasionally giving a little tug just to feel Nut shiver. When the hand in his hair finally regained some of its old purpose—steering his head back down, back toward the warm skin of his chest—Nut knew Hong had recovered enough.
He let himself be guided, lips closing around a nipple again, but his hand was already reaching blindly for the bedside drawer. He fumbled it open without looking, fingers closing around the bottle he knew was waiting there.
"Eager," Hong murmured, the word coming out smug even with his voice still rough around the edges.
Nut didn’t bother replying and popped the cap with his thumb, slicking his fingers warm before he reached down between Hong's spread thighs. He pressed the first finger against him slowly, watching Hong's face the whole time, drinking in the way his breath caught and his lashes fluttered.
He took his time, like he always did because he loved this part just as much as the following one. He worked Hong open, adding a second finger only when Hong started rocking down to meet him.
"Nut," Hong breathed, and there was that command sliding back into his voice, frayed as it was. "Stop—come here. Switch."
Nut stilled, fingers buried deep. "Switch?"
Hong's eyes were dark and glittering, that stubborn streak resurfacing through the haze. "You heard me. Get up here." He tugged at Nut's hip, urging him up the bed. "I want my mouth on you while you do that."
Nut's brain short-circuited for the second time that hour. He let Hong arrange him, let himself be pulled up until he was straddling Hong's chest, then higher, knees planted on either side of Hong's head against the pillow. He looked down between his thighs at Hong's beautiful face turned up toward him.
Then Hong's mouth wrapped around him, velvet-soft and hot, and Nut had to bite back a groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest. His hips jerked forward of their own accord, and Hong took him easily, humming around him in a way that made Nut's thighs tremble.
It took everything he had to keep his focus, to remember the slick fingers that had to go back between Hong's legs. He pumped them in and out, curling them just so, and felt Hong moan around his length—the vibration of it nearly undoing him on the spot.
"Fuck," Nut gasped, head dropping forward on Hong’s soft stomach. "Hong—that's not—I won’t last."
Hong only hummed again, hollowing his cheeks and dragging his tongue along the underside in a way that made Nut's vision white out at the edges. The matched rhythm of his fingers pushing into Hong while Hong's mouth pulled him deeper had them both spiraling fast, neither willing to lose, both losing anyway.
Nut crooked his fingers and Hong's hips bucked up off the mattress with a muffled cry, and the sound vibrated straight through Nut, and he had to grip the sheets hard enough to whiten his knuckles just to stay upright. They were caught in it together now, neither one in control, both of them coming apart at the same maddening, perfect pace.
The pressure built too fast, coiling tight and white-hot at the base of his spine, and when Hong's tongue dragged over him just right Nut's whole body jolted. His knee shot out, knocking square into the side of Hong's head, and the wet heat around him vanished with a startled noise.
"Ow—"
"Shit—sorry, sorry—" Nut scrambled back off Hong's chest, fingers slipping free, mortification crashing over the edge of his arousal. "Are you okay? Did I—"
But Hong was already laughing, one hand pressed to the side of his head, his face split wide with it. "You kneed me. In the head."
"I didn't mean to!" Nut's face went hot. "You—it was your fault, you did that thing with your tongue—"
"My fault?" Hong wheezed, still laughing, looking thoroughly pleased with himself even as he rubbed his temple. "You're the one who can't keep your knees under control."
"Stop laughing." But Nut was laughing too now, collapsing forward against Hong's chest, the both of them shaking with it. The desperate edge had dissolved into something warmer, sillier, Hong's arms coming up around his back to hold him there while they breathed through the giggles.
"You're ridiculous," Hong murmured into his hair, fond and breathless. "Come here. Properly this time, before you injure me."
Nut lifted his head, grinning, and pressed a quick kiss to the spot he'd knocked. "Let me make it up to you."
He reached for the pillow and slid it under Hong's hips, guiding him into place. Hong let him, the smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth as he settled back against the sheets. Nut slicked himself, lined up, and pressed in slowly enough to savor every inch, watching Hong's lashes flutter. He sank in until he was fully seated, holding still there, both of them trembling.
"Okay?" Nut breathed.
Hong's answer was the hand that found its way back into Nut's hair, fingers curling tight, dragging him down. "Stop talking," he murmured against Nut's mouth, and then he was kissing him deeply, with breathless little sounds, pulling Nut into him by the hair like he never intended to let go.
Nut groaned into it and started to move. He set a slow rhythm at first, drawing out each thrust, drinking in the way Hong's breath hitched on every drag of him. A gasp broke off into Nut's mouth, the heel dug into the small of his back, urging him deeper.
Nut shifted his weight onto one forearm, freed a hand to grip Hong's thigh and hike it higher, and the new angle had Hong arching off the mattress beneath him. The fingers in his hair tightened to the point of pain, and Nut welcomed it, chased it, let it ground him in the heat of the moment.
"You feel—" He couldn't finish. The words dissolved into a groan against Hong's jaw as he picked up his pace, hips snapping forward now, the slow savoring burned away by the want that was constantly simmering underneath.
Hong met every thrust, rocking up into him, his other hand scrabbling for purchase against Nut's shoulder, his nails fortunately short enough not to leave marks on his back. The bed creaked beneath them. Hong's noises had gone unguarded, the steady stream of broken little sounds that Nut would have happily died to hear for the rest of his life.
Nut breathed, pressing his forehead to Hong's, both of them panting into the scant space between their mouths. Nut reached between them, wrapping his hand around Hong where he was hard again, stroking him in time with each thrust, and that was all it took. Hong shattered for the second time, clamping down around him, spilling hot over Nut's fist with a cry that he muffled against Nut's shoulder.
The clench of him and the sheer wrecked beauty of Hong coming apart underneath him dragged Nut right over the edge with him. He buried himself deep, hips stuttering, and came with a groan torn straight from his chest, his face pressed into the curve of Hong's neck, breathing him in.
Nut lifted his head just enough to look at him: Hong's eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks flushed pink, his gray hair a wild mess against the pillow. He looked soft and happy. Nut's chest ached with the sight of it.
He pulled out carefully, swallowing Hong's small noise of complaint with a kiss, then rolled to the side and gathered him close, ignoring the mess between them for the moment. Hong went without protest, tucking himself into Nut's chest, one leg thrown over Nut's like he did every time.
"We should clean up," Nut murmured into his hair.
"In a minute."
"You said that last time and we fell asleep."
Hong's only response was to burrow closer, his breath warm and even against Nut's collarbone. Nut smiled and tightened his arm around him, deciding the mess could wait. Everything could wait, really, when Hong was this warm and pliant against him. Nut traced lazy patterns along his spine, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing slow into something close to sleep.
"It's not that bad," Hong mumbled after a while, the words half-muffled against Nut's skin.
Nut blinked down at the top of his head. "Hm?"
"The hair." Hong's fingers came up to card through it again. "It suits you. A little. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."
A laugh rumbled through Nut's chest. "High praise."
Hong tilted his face up just enough to fix him with a look that would've been far more convincing if his eyes weren't soft and drowsy. "I still want you to grow it back."
Nut couldn't argue with that. He pressed a kiss to Hong's forehead and let his eyes drift closed. "I'll grow it back. For you."
The quiet stretched out. Nut's mind drifted back toward tomorrow. Back toward the shoot and the song he'd poured months of himself into. He wondered, idly, if it would climb the way Hong's had. If he'd get to watch the numbers tick up, week after week, the way he'd watched Hong's with so much pride it had nearly burst out of him. He hoped so. He wanted that for himself, wanted to know he could stand beside Hong and William and Tui and not feel like he was scrambling to keep up.
But if it didn't… Hong shifted in his arms, throwing his leg higher across Nut's, mumbling something incomprehensible into his collarbone before going still again.
If it didn't, Nut thought, that would be all right too. Because even if the song flopped, even if it never cracked the charts and no one streamed it past the first day—he'd still come home to Hong tucked against his side and demanding kisses. He'd still get to keep the one thing he'd never once doubted he wanted.
There were no better consolation prize in the world than the man he loved.