Whisk Me off My Feet

by long_green_onion

Summary:

And nothing is bothering Hongjoong, not really, but he'd rather keel over than admit he almost thought of his roommate in a sexual way just by watching him cook.

Notes:

so this was sparked by watching ateez treasure film, when hwa is grilling meat and everyone is super impressed, so i was like hey,, what if SuperCook hwa and this is what happened

this is a bit more dense than what i usually write, so please lmk what you think!

Chapter 1: Soy Into You (Baby, You're Souper)

Hongjoong maybe sort of has a thing for Seonghwa. He just didn’t think it would take the older picking up a new hobby for him to realize it.

It starts after they’ve had an exceptionally busy period, at the tail end of comeback promotions for their newest album. They haven’t had time for hobbies or sleep or a home cooked meal, all dragging themselves through the days and worn more than a little thin. When they finally have a day to breathe (and everybody has awoken at noon or later), Seonghwa announces that he’s sick of takeout and cheap ramyun and promptly does something about it.

Hongjoong tags along with him to the market by their dorm, because he’s been wanting more of those disgustingly sweet gummy snacks anyway, and watches Seonghwa pick out everything from fresh fish to rice to spices to produce. It’s nearing dusk by the time they get back, helped none by Hongjoong dragging his feet and being a general nuisance for the latter half of the trip.

They enlist help with bringing up bags of groceries, the members rolling their eyes but helping good-naturedly. Seonghwa seems excited; there’s a bounce in his step and a smile playing at his lips as they put away their spoils. When he announces that he’s cooking and inquires about dinner plans, the couple that made plans cancel in favor of spending time together around Seonghwa’s cooking.

Hongjoong thought he would have had enough of his roommate for one day, but the moment the other ties on an apron, he can’t seem to look away. Hongjoong hops up to sit on the counter, pulling out his phone under the pretense of playing a game while he secretly watches the vocalist cook. He finds that Seonghwa moves with a sort of gracefulness in the kitchen that makes him seem right at home amongst the pots and pans and uncooked cabbage, like it’s his domain and anyone else would need permission to enter. He looks… serious, with his mouth set in a firm line of concentration and hands moving deftly, surely.

It’s a side of Seonghwa he doesn’t see often, the older usually preferring to play around with the others and make himself as nonthreatening as possible. It’s enrapturing, though, seeing him in his element; it makes something warm curl in his chest, his breath hitching softly at the feeling.

Hongjoong only realizes he’s been blatantly staring when Seonghwa catches his gaze.

“Thinking about something?” he asks, eyes turning back to the batter he’s mixing. “Or did you want to help?” His tone is light, but Hongjoong sees that he’s offering an out, in case he doesn’t want to talk about whatever is troubling him. And nothing is troubling him, not really, but he’ll keel over before he admits that he almost thought about his roommate in a sexy way just by watching him cook, so he gladly takes it, shoving the thought out of his mind.

“What do you want me to do, boss?” he teases, coming over to wash his hands. Seonghwa huffs at the jab but directs him anyway, telling him how small to mince things (“That’s a chop, not a mince Joong-ah”) and what temperature to set the burners (“I said low, look it’s boiling not simmering”). Hongjoong supposes he should bristle at being bossed around like this, but Seonghwa never means any harm, would never shame him for not being as well-versed in the kitchen as he is. Instead he finds that warm feeling nudging its way back in as the older guides him, intensified when they brush arms or when Seonghwa places a hand on the small of his back to ensure Hongjoong doesn’t move while he carries something hot behind him.

And later, when they’re eating delicious okonomiyaki with miso soup, Hongjoong looks around at seven faces he loves, and lingers on one.

 

~~~~~~

 

Seonghwa makes a habit of it.

Over the following weeks, it’s rare to find their fridge and freezer void of leftovers as Seonghwa explores more recipes from all different cultures, and continues to make enough food to feed a small army each time. He doesn’t cook feasts every day, but Hongjoong is beginning to think Seonghwa might have a bit of an obsessive personality, as he’s always watching cooking videos or perusing novelty kitchenware online.

It’s not at any detriment to them, quite the opposite in fact; he and the other members have been basking in the wealth of healthy food readily available. Seonghwa makes a variety of foods so there’s always something to either grab and go or sit down and eat, and in the event that what he makes doesn’t turn out the way he’d hoped, the members will stop him from throwing it out in frustration with promises that it’s really not so bad.

It kind of warms Hongjoong’s heart, how Seonghwa cares for them so much. He’ll cater parts of some dishes to suit the tastes of those he’s cooking for, like super spicy for Jongho and omitting radishes for Yeosang. He has a new excuse to drag Hongjoong away from the studio now, too, asking him to sample this or that, and he finds himself spending more time with the rest of them because of it. Or when Hongjoong is really on a roll, and inspiration has left him without food for too long, Seonghwa will pop in to leave a container of the newest experiment, some words of encouragement, and then he’s gone.

His mind lingers on those days the most. He finds that he doesn’t mind being doted on if it’s Seonghwa.

It’s a lazy afternoon when Hongjoong catches himself thinking about it. They’re home in between practices, the few free hours spent lying in a heap or bothering each other. Hongjoong has a tarp spread out on the floor of their room, stark white pair of converse ready to be decorated. He had to kick Wooyoung out for this; he didn’t want the younger accidentally spilling paint by roughhousing Seonghwa too hard.

The older was (trying to) browse recipes on his phone sitting on Hongjoong’s bottom bunk, but in the wake of Hurricane Wooyoung he’s left flat on his stomach, a bit winded and hair tousled. After Wooyoung is shooed away, Seonghwa raises his head enough to shoot Hongjoong a grateful smile, and his heart does a little flip. It seems to be doing that a lot around Seonghwa lately, he thinks absently, sending a salute back. The room returns to silence once again save for R&B hits playing softly from his phone.

“Hey Hwa,” Hongjoong starts innocuously, prepping shoe number one for painting and diligently avoiding eye contact, “do you really enjoy cooking that much?” Maybe he could have phrased the question better, but he was a bit nervous to ask it and he can’t take it back now. Luckily Seonghwa doesn’t take it the wrong way.

“It’s just kind of how I relieve stress these days,” he answers sheepishly, hand coming up to fiddle with the hairs at his neck as he shifts to sit up. “But yes, I do enjoy it,” he finishes with a small smile.

Hongjoong doesn’t know what he could possibly have to be embarrassed about, when his new hobby is keeping them well fed and healthy. He wants to say something else, maybe something encouraging, but Seonghwa has sat up and the wide neck pastel purple sweater he’s wearing dips this side of too far down his chest, pulled further off kilter by Wooyoung earlier, and suddenly his head is empty.

“Well don’t stop on my account,” Hongjoong blurts, glad he was able to say anything at all and hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. That seems to be sufficient for Seonghwa though, because the older huffs a small laugh and an “I won’t” before turning his attention back to his phone.

Hongjoong keeps watching him for a moment. His eyes catch on the small amount of shoulder exposed, trailing up over the smooth skin of his collarbones and neck, hands twitching with the desire to fix the sweater. Seonghwa must have found a recipe he wants to try, because he’s looking at his phone intently, eyes lit up and lips repeating the ghost of words he reads on screen. His hair is freshly blonde, and Hongjoong still isn’t used to seeing him like this when it was formerly stark black, but he’s certainly no less attractive for it.

Yes, Hongjoong knows his groupmates are attractive. He knows he’s attractive too; as much as he hates vanity, it’s just kind of a fact blurred to the back of his mind in the wake of more important things. There’s something about Seonghwa, though, that’s been drawing him in recently. Sometimes he’ll catch himself following the older to the kitchen like a lost puppy, then claiming to need a glass of water and veering back to their room once he’s realized his mistake. If Seonghwa has noticed, though, he hasn’t said anything. Hongjoong can only hope that the glances the blonde gives him with sparkling eyes don’t mean he’s being made fun of.

 

~~~~~

 

A month and a half later, Hongjoong finally admits to himself that he’s completely enamored with Seonghwa.

There was no big revelation, but he did have somewhat of a lightbulb moment after a particularly exhausting day of schedules. Nothing seemed to go right that day; they had a hard time picking up new choreography, leading Yunho to be frustrated that he couldn’t work on self improvement, having to make sure everyone got the basic steps down first. San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang got into an argument about something or other, leaving the atmosphere charged and tense for half the day. Then Mingi kept trying to drape his tall form over Jongho, who after refusing him gently a few times, became frustrated and bodily shoved him away.

And of course, on the last run-through of the day, Seonghwa twists his ankle. There’s a collective wince as Seonghwa hits the deck after landing a jump awkwardly, the oldest giving a grunt of pain and surprise, but sitting up quickly so as not to worry them. Hongjoong and Yeosang, the closest to him, go to help him up, but he waves their hands away, clearly upset with himself. Seonghwa is able to muscle through one more run fueled by spite alone and they call it a day, piling into the vans and for the most part, ignoring each other.

It’s days like these that make Hongjoong feel like a shitty leader. He knows he can’t mediate every conflict, but today was just exceptionally bad, and Hongjoong doesn’t know if he needs to scream, cry, or sleep first. He doesn’t end up doing any of those things, because when Seonghwa gets out of the van, his ankle gives and he’s falling again, managing to catch himself on the car door at the last second. His eyes are clenched shut and Hongjoong knows he hates others seeing him like this, wants to be their pillar of support but refuses to accept help himself.

Hongjoong silently nudges Seonghwa’s arm out of the way, looping an arm around his waist to take some of his weight, and it must be a testament to how worn down he is that he accepts with only one muttered protest. They’ve just made it inside the door, trailing slowly after everyone else, when Seonghwa fully slumps against him, wrapping both of his arms around Hongjoong in a proper hug. His heart squeezes, the older’s weight like a balm against him. They both needed this.

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice tight with emotion, and Hongjoong understands. He hugs back fiercely, trying not to concentrate on the way the other’s breath comes in uneven bursts; Hongjoong has always been empathetic, so if Seonghwa cries, he cries. Luckily he doesn’t, just pulls back and offers his leader a watery smile before gingerly taking off his shoes and limping off toward the rooms. Hongjoong doesn’t offer to help this time, knowing it was a lot for him to accept the first time and not wanting to hurt his pride further. He does go grab an ice pack, though, because he knows the older’s ankle will thank him for it later.

When he moves to their room, he’s surprised to find that Seonghwa isn’t there. He does hear low voices coming from another room, and shuffles quietly to the door ajar at the end of the hall. He hears four distinct voices, obviously trying to keep quiet but flaring up slightly every now and then, and Hongjoong realizes that Seonghwa is conflict mediating between the three who fought today. There, standing in the hallway with the ice pack freezing his fingers half to death, he realizes two things.

One, Seonghwa would do anything for them. He’s dead tired and his ankle is probably bothering him, but he prioritizes the group above all else. As the oldest, he likely feels some responsibility for the group’s wellbeing, so he’s usually the one giving out comfort or advice when the others need it most.

And two, Hongjoong wants to give that back to him. His heart lurches so strongly in his chest that he places a hand over it, body thrumming with the urge to protect, to hold, to wrap Seonghwa up in a blanket and never let go. He’s sure now, that he can’t brush off a feeling that runs this deep, means this much to him. The question is just what he’s meant to do with it.

 

~~~~~

 

Hongjoong is zoned out at the table again, watching their Food Fairy flit around the kitchen one afternoon. Normally he would be in the studio producing, but today had been a rather vacant day for him mentally, so he chooses to indulge in his newest hobby knowing he wouldn’t have gotten much done anyway.

Seonghwa had gotten used to his presence while cooking, sometimes teasing him about not helping, but quickly realizing it’s relaxing for Hongjoong to just watch. So he allows him the simple pleasure, sometimes putting on a show for the younger’s entertainment, like when he made Hongjoong time how fast he could dice an onion, or turned off the lights so that he could flambe something with extra pizzaz. Sometimes the others join Hongjoong in observing, making sure to clap (or scream, at the fire) appropriately, but most of the time it’s just the two of them, and Hongjoong thinks it’s nice.

Seonghwa’s little tricks never fail to take his breath away, and maybe it’s the way the other’s skill and confidence had been steadily improving over the months, or maybe it’s that fact that Hongjoong is so incredibly smitten with him that it’s frankly disgusting. As it is, he’s barely keeping himself from recording everything Seonghwa does like a freaking helicopter parent.

In the way that he wants to take care of Seonghwa, maybe he also has a thing for being taken care of, he thinks, noting the other’s happy smile as he lifts a lid to perfectly steamed dumplings. Seonghwa has readily admitted in the past that he’s primarily the one who takes care of Hongjoong, backed up by teasing from the members that the two of them are like a married couple. Hongjoong never paid it much mind, biting back with quips that they’re his disrespectful children, but not taking it seriously.

But now he finds his mind wandering to dangerous territory, dangerous, domestic territory as he wonders what their relationship would be like if he wasn’t so damn emotionally constipated when it comes to the oldest. It’s true that he doesn’t freely give affection to Seonghwa like he does to some of the others, even if the older has tried to be touchy with him first. Back then… He used to be intimidated, he thinks, watching his muse accidentally touch something too hot and pull back his finger with a hiss. But how could he? Seonghwa is really like an affectionate cat, a cute black one, maybe, that looks scary but just wants love (he almost coos aloud at the thought). He couldn’t see it back then, but he does now that they’ve all grown closer.

But now, with his heart and hands yearning for contact, he still can’t bring himself to do it. He pictures himself hanging off of Seonghwa like he does to Yunho sometimes, and grimaces slightly. It feels wrong. It would feel vapid, in a way, if he were to now drape himself over Seonghwa all the time for fanservice or playfulness and he finds himself stuck in an awkward back and forth between wanting to be affectionate and not wanting to.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by a plate of cute little dumplings clacking onto the table in front of him. He looks up at the dumpling bearer in surprise, and Seonghwa’s smile is blinding.

“Stop thinking so hard Joong, you’ll give yourself an aneurism,” he jokes lightly, taking the seat next to him.

“Ah, sorry, were you saying something?” he asks, hoping to derail Seonghwa from asking what he was thinking about. “Are these for me? They almost look too cute to eat,” he tacks on, voice trailing off to a murmur at the end of his sentence. He leans in closer to inspect them, and they really do look perfect, the tops sealed in little twists without a hint of filling poking out. Seonghwa has even included a little dish of dipping sauce with ginger, and Hongjoong’s heart squeezes at the effort put in.

“I gave you the best-looking ones,” Seonghwa admits with a small laugh and the squeezing in his chest intensifies. Stupid caring Seonghwa. “And no, I wasn’t saying anything. Anyway, there’s no use just staring at them, try one,” he urges, eager eyes trained on Hongjoong. So try one he does.

Except when Hongjoong places the mini dumpling in his mouth and bites down, he almost spits it back out.

Not because of the taste, no, it’s actually one of Hongjoong’s favorite Seonghwa Experiments. It’s because the dumpling contained a bubble of hot soup alongside it’s meat filling that catches him completely off guard when it explodes in his mouth and punches him in the throat. He makes an unpleasant sort of choking sound, slapping a hand over his mouth and looking up at Seonghwa in surprise, afraid he might be offended by his reaction.

The older throws his head back and laughs, deep and genuine from the chest, and Hongjoong almost chokes again from the pretty picture he makes. Light catches the right side of his face, making his skin glow, long curve of his neck fully on display. He looks ethereal. Once Hongjoong’s brain comes back from vacation he notices there isn’t a hint of insecurity on his face, like he knew Hongjoong might have reacted this way, and it makes something equal parts indignant and fond swell in his chest. When his mouth is finally clear, he swats Seonghwa on the arm.

“What the hell was that?” he asks dramatically, the other’s giggles starting up again. It makes a smile quirk on his lips in turn. “You gave me an exploding dumpling—which tasted fantastic, by the way—and it almost choked me!” he exclaims, unable to stop the full toothy grin growing on his face from the way Seonghwa is thrown back into another fit of laughter.

“Aww, poor Hongjoong,” he croons, residual giggles still springing from him. “It’s xiao long bao, they’re supposed to burst in your mouth, you dumpling,” he laughs, gesturing for emphasis. Hongjoong doesn’t know whether to feel pleased or offended at the new nickname. “I’m glad you like it, though, they were a pain to make,” he finishes softly, resting his chin in his palm, like he plans to take the rest of the day just to look at Hongjoong.

“’M not a dumpling,” he protests weakly, though quietly basking in the other’s attention on him. Hongjoong averts his gaze back to the plate of xiao long bao and pokes one with his finger. Squishy.

“Hm, I suppose you aren’t just any old dumpling,” Seonghwa concedes, fiddling with a chopstick. “You’re my dumpling.”

And Hongjoong promptly panics, because hey, that sounds a lot like flirting, and though Seonghwa’s tone is teasing there’s an undercurrent of something else in his voice, something soft.

Hongjoong doesn’t know what that means, can’t know where the other stands when his heart is on the line, so he chooses to play it safe in case he’s misread the situation.

“Share the rest of these with me?” he asks abruptly, willing his heartbeat to calm down after the surprise attack. If Seonghwa is thrown at the conversation whiplash, he doesn’t show it; there’s just a small flash of a frown on his face before he’s humming in agreement and doing just that.

 

~~~~~

 

Hongjoong can’t say he loves reality shows. He likes watching them, sure, and they’re funny most of the time, but filming them takes so incredibly long. He’s sitting on a stool, backside aching slightly from being stationary for so long, and trying not to fall asleep to the fifth take of the story of how Yeosang and Wooyoung met. It’s touching, but he’s heard it somewhere near thirty times now and doesn’t feel bad tuning it out. Suddenly everyone around him is clapping, so he claps too, forcing a natural smile onto his face.

He curses his tiredness, but there’s only himself to blame; he had stayed at the studio practically all night working on a new idea. It isn’t much yet, but he’s proud of it. He had realized that Seonghwa hadn’t been coming to the studio to drag him home as often, but despite the twinge in his chest, hadn’t expended too much energy on thinking about why that may be. It makes him a bit moody, not being the object of Seonghwa’s attention quite as much as before, but he doesn’t let it affect the group, or their image. It’s easy enough to hide, and he is a professional, after all.

It seems that they’re moving onto some kind of relay freeze dance thing, a competition split into hyung line versus maknae line, and Hongjoong knows this is the part where he’s supposed to act super confident, so he nudges Yunho and nods, as if to say ‘we got this, easy.’ They’re definitely going to put some inflammatory comment over that in editing.

The relay dance is going well, hyung line is up two points and everyone is having a good time, so Hongjoong’s mind begins to drift again. It isn’t until he’s dancing, and the MC yells “freeze!” that his body keeps moving without his permission, and he loses them a point. Seonghwa, having been right behind him about to dance next, thumps his back with a:

“Pay attention, you dumpling!”

The comedic timing is so good that the other members and MC burst into shocked laughter, but Hongjoong freezes. Seonghwa hadn’t called him that since that day, what— three weeks ago?— but the memory burns right to the forefront of his mind, all soft smiles and cute dumplings and beautiful Seonghwa. Longing suddenly and forcefully punches him in the chest, and he pretends to double over in shame at being called a dumpling rather than the shock of yearning that sparks through him. They eventually finish the game, but he has a hard time meeting Seonghwa’s gaze for the rest of the show.

He didn’t think he was being too obvious about it, but the older corners him in the dressing room after filming.

“Look, Joong, I wanted to apologize for calling you a dumpling,” he starts abruptly, deep voice sounding sincere, but also a bit embarrassed. The sudden apology catches him off guard, as it’s a bit of a weird thing to be apologizing for. “I know it made you uncomfortable the first time I said it and I shouldn’t have—"

“What? No, it’s okay,” Hongjoong rushes to say, because it’s not really Seonghwa’s fault, but the other doesn’t seem to be convinced.

“Are you sure?” he asks, a small furrow appearing on his brow. At Hongjoong’s assent, he asks, “then why were you avoiding me after I said it?”

And he doesn’t sound too hurt, or even remotely angry, but the question still makes Hongjoong feel ashamed. The problem is just how to explain to Seonghwa why he was so stupidly affected by being called a dumpling. “Sorry Hwa, I was just embarrassed is all,” he lies, eyes skittering away to a lone shoe underneath a chair against the wall.

Seonghwa’s voice is soft when he speaks again. “I won’t do it again,” he promises, hand coming up to grip Hongjoong’s bicep gently in reassurance.

And then, Hongjoong’s stupid mouth decides to betray him. “No, you can… you can call me dumpling,” he says without a single thought in his mind, eyes hesitantly coming up to meet soft, open, dark ones. Ah wait. “Maybe just not on camera,” he amends with a small smile.

Seonghwa’s eyes positively sparkle, and he wraps Hongjoong up in a giddy sort of hug as he tests out, “so we’re okay then, dumpling?”

Hongjoong has to stop himself from making a strangled noise, color flooding his cheeks, because he is so incredibly okay right now while simultaneously being the furthest thing from okay, but he manages to squeak out a ‘yes’ regardless. If this is going to be a regular thing, he doesn’t know how he’ll survive.

Chapter 2: Brie Mine? (We're Mint to Be)

Notes:

hey lmao so this chapter was kinda like pulling teeth,, sorry it took so long and I REALLY MEANT for it to be 3-4k

also, you may have noticed. that the chapters. went from 2 to 3 total. that is because im adding a whole ass smut chapter LMAOO this one was too long to put in everything i wanted to, but i guess the story is technically complete!

anyway lmk if this chapter is as choppy as i think it is 💀💀

Five months after the habit had become routine, Seonghwa is sent to a cooking competition for idols. Their managers had taken notice of the increased grocery bills and decreased takeout bills, and a bit of poking around yielded the reason for the change. Seonghwa seems happy to go, so they send Jongho, too, for more representation and because he’s also quite confident in his cooking ability, and the two are set to film the show on top of their already busy schedules.

They aim to go and have fun, maybe advance a couple of rounds and make some friends, but Seonghwa just… doesn’t get the boot. Out of ten rounds, Jongho is eliminated in round two, grateful for the added free time after spending odd nights and mornings filming the show. He isn’t upset about it, he knows he’s quite out of practice; plus the sheer number of hours Seonghwa had put into making dishes just right for them leaves him at a bit of a disadvantage.

Hongjoong tries not to worry when Seonghwa’s alarms ring out at 4am week after week, but when he returns to them exhausted for a fully-booked day of schedules before they’ve even begun, he can’t help but be concerned. One night, Hongjoong runs into him after he’d lost track of time in the studio, colliding with comically mirrored shocked faces in the entryway to the dorm. He checked the time. 3:38am. Seonghwa’s lips had quirked up; early start today, he’d said, then because apparently he couldn’t resist, you should come home earlier, Joong-ah.

Hongjoong doesn’t sleep well that night.

Seonghwa is back to black hair, his shiny locks appearing so glossy and touchable on screen, and Hongjoong thinks he would have the courage to run his fingers through them if Seonghwa hadn’t been carted away for the finale of the show. They request a straight week of his time for filming, and Hongjoong very much hopes their managers will say no, but the opportunity is too good to pass up and off Seonghwa goes. It’s not the longest they’ve been separated by a long shot, but Hongjoong can’t help but feel like it is.

The finale of the show is a mystery tropical food challenge, filmed on a beach somewhere that they claim is Hawaii but is really still in Korea, the contestants having to use nothing but bonfires to cook. Seonghwa video calls them to show off his newly acquired tshirt tan lines the first night, laughing along with their roasts and goofing around as usual, until someone tilts the camera too far and he spots the mess the living room had become without him.

The second he begins scolding them, the other members dip out of frame and back to their rooms stealthily one by one, until it’s just him and Hongjoong, who is far too distracted by his hyung’s pretty lips to say much. He’s used to tuning out Seonghwa’s cleaning lectures by now anyway, so his mind is a little hazy as he hums along with whatever the older is saying, eyes trailing distractedly over his face.

Hongjoong doesn’t realize the other has stopped talking until he starts again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seonghwa asks hesitantly in that low, low voice, expression fond and eyes soft.

Hongjoong settles on a half-truth.

“Just feels weird without you here,” he murmurs, voice cracking a little from disuse. He clears his throat, embarrassed, looking away and carding a hand through his hair. Seonghwa makes a soft little noise, from understanding or embarrassment he doesn’t know, and assures Hongjoong he will be home soon. He distracts Hongjoong for the rest of the call by telling him about how close he’d become with the other three finalists, which turns out to be a terrible idea, because now Hongjoong has to pretend his stomach hasn’t turned into a boiling pit of jealousy. He shoves away the feeling as best he can.

“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa calls, voice tinted with exasperation and mouth pulling up at the corner. He’s been caught distracted again. “I’ll be back soon.”

And when Seonghwa gets back— oh, when he gets back. He’s handsome as ever, stepping inside their dorm with a big grin on his face, but he’s tanned, the thin muscle tee he’s wearing showing off lean, bronzed arms. Hongjoong can barely keep himself from drooling.

The others wrap him up in hugs one and two at a time, but he keeps making eye contact with Hongjoong between heads and over shoulders, cute eye smile brightening his face. Hongjoong finally gets his hug, allowing himself to bask in warm arms and the smell of sunscreen for a bit before pulling away regretfully. Seonghwa doesn’t let him go far, though, linking their arms together as they’re swept further into the dorm. When Hongjoong looks up curiously, Seonghwa isn’t looking at him, but the tips of his ears are flushed red.

 

~~~~~

 

They would have thought that Seonghwa would want a break from cooking after all that filming, but he claims the contrary, stating he felt inspired by everyone else’s dishes on the show. And it’s good to be back in his own kitchen, he says, despite their appliances being a little lacking.

It turns out that “feeling inspired” also means he’d picked up new techniques. The first time in a while that Hongjoong sits down to keep Seonghwa company in the kitchen, the older starts pulling together some kind of dough, and not the cookie kind (Hongjoong would know).

“What’s that dough for?” Hongjoong calls curiously from his perch at the table, fingers resting on the open laptop forgotten in front of him. Seonghwa smiles back at him brightly over his shoulder, as if he’d forgotten he had company, but responds easily.

“Fresh bread,” he hums, deft fingers flouring the sanitized counter. Hongjoong has seen street vendors kneading dough for noodles and bun wrappers, but somehow that doesn’t prepare him for how Seonghwa throws his whole body into it: he works his palms over the dough, sturdy fingers curling and pushing hard into it before pulling away, letting his body weight and the rhythm of some silent song carry him along. Hongjoong traces the line from his fingers to wrists, and up to his forearms, pushed-up sleeves giving way to rhythmically flexing muscles.

The view is helped none by Seonghwa’s face, flushed a bit from exertion, his forehead glistening with the beginnings of sweat. As the minutes drag on, he lets out little grunts and harsh puffs of air— Hongjoong can’t help but squirm in his chair, suddenly feeling like their dorm’s gentle air conditioner isn’t enough.

When Seonghwa finally sets the dough aside and cleans off his hands, Hongjoong bodily relaxes, not realizing how tense and affected he had been from watching the other work. He thinks he’s in the clear, until Seonghwa picks up a knife and—

“Hyung—!” he shouts, alarmed, mood taking a sharp turn as he watches the knife go right-side down. He doesn’t need to worry, though, because the handle is safely back in Seonghwa’s hand before he even finishes the word, the older whipping his head around to look at him in surprise. It occurs to Hongjoong then, that Seonghwa just twirled his knife, for seemingly no reason, and he has to stamp down the new, hot wave of arousal that caused, the mood whiplash doing nothing to calm his heart.

“Yah, Park Seonghwa, that’s too dangerous, you could have cut off a finger!” he scolds, face twisted into the best scowl he can manage with his heart still hammering in his chest. Seonghwa has the decency to look sheepish.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” he starts, looking down at the knife, “it’s just something that I learned from Jinnie-hyung on the show, and it sort of became a habit,” he explains, mouth twisting as if pondering if the habit is worth kicking. Hongjoong thinks it is, if not for Seonghwa’s potential finger loss, then for his own heart, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle the dual flashes of panic and arousal the action seems to cause.

“Well, some irresponsible hyung that is,” Hongjoong huffs, eyes trailing to the vegetables set out, now a bit embarrassed at his own outburst. Seonghwa regards him for a long moment, face contemplative and a little amused.

“I won’t do it anymore,” he finally says. It feels almost regretful, and that doesn’t quite sit right with Hongjoong. Because his tone is not upset but placating, and Hongjoong doesn’t want to be catered to like this, doesn’t want Seonghwa’s enthusiasm for this hobby to be squashed in any way, least of all by of him.

“It’s okay, no, I was just…” Hongjoong trails off, cringing at his own awkwardness. He flounders for something to say, gesturing uselessly with both hands, but no sound coming out of his mouth. Regardless, Seonghwa’s mouth quirks up at the corner, and it feels like a small victory. Silence hangs between them for a few beats before Seonghwa breaks it gently.

“Wanna guess how many slices this zucchini makes?”

And just like that, the atmosphere is comfortable again. Hongjoong throws out a number that is most definitely too high, though he’s too relieved to care, and Seonghwa does his best to beat that number, muttering about dull knives all the while.

Hongjoong watches fondly for a beat, then slips his headphones back on and loses himself in composing for a while. Some indiscernible amount of time later, the mouth-watering smell of baking bread pulls him out of the headspace, and he finds himself unable to concentrate when it seems their dorm has turned into a pseudo-bakery. He looks up and blinks hard a few times, getting used to natural light once again, and his eyes land on their resident chef, who’s moved on to lining up vegetable slices without a care in the world. The slices are incredibly thin, so Seonghwa is being gentle, and Hongjoong finds his heart melting just a bit at the careful concentration on his face.

Seonghwa doesn’t have any makeup on, and Hongjoong secretly likes him like this the best—their makeup artists tend to round out the shape of his chin and cheekbones, making him appear softer and more feminine, but without it he’s all hard angles and sharp eyes and masculine. Hongjoong likes him either way, and he is killer with a smoky eye, but Seonghwa’s bare face is a constant reminder that he’s genuinely, painfully gay.

A tap on the shoulder startles him out of his daydream, and he flinches violently before realizing it’s just San and not god coming to punish him for Gay Seonghwa Thoughts.

“Sorry hyung,” he says, placating, putting his hands up in a show of good faith. “To be fair, I did call your name.” Hongjoong snorts indignantly, but takes his headphones off to rest around his neck.

“What did you need, Sannie?” he asks, reorienting the last of his focus to the conversation.

“Well it smells amazing, and I was wondering when we could eat, but also,” he adds, pausing and fidgeting as if he’s not quite sure he wants to say something. At Hongjoong’s encouraging nod, he continues, voice dropping down to a whisper between the two of them, “you should tell him. Hyung looks at you the same way.”

And if that doesn’t send a shock down Hongjoong’s spine. He feels his cheeks flush bright red at being caught, horrified and stuttering and stuck between denying it and asking San how he can be so sure. After a few seconds, though, it’s too late to deny, the evidence written all over his flustered face. In the end, his flight instinct wins out and he escapes to the bathroom with the excuse that he needs to wash his hands, pointedly not looking at the pitying glances San is sending him.

He takes some time to splash water on his face, pacing anxiously around the small space. If San has noticed, that means at least Jongho and Yeosang also have as the more observant ones in the group, and that thought doesn’t sit well in his gut. He’s supposed to be their fearless leader, but here… he doesn’t know what to do.

Hyung looks at you the same way.

San is a prankster, but he’s not malicious, none of them are. He’s just not sure he can take anyone’s word for it with this type of situation. Hongjoong sighs. Maybe he could see for himself, try to think of things objectively? The problem with that is it’s hard to think at all around Seonghwa, the older brightening his field of vision like the goddamn sun, making his mind fuzzy. But still, he is curious if San is right or if he’s delusional, so he decides it’s worth a shot. With his mind made up, Hongjoong leaves the bathroom and walks back to his abandoned post, only to find his seat taken and a small crowd gathered at the table. Not everyone is here, but the ones who are look about ready to rip the oven door off.

Seonghwa smiles fondly at the little group, finishing up plating something before bringing over plates of familiar-looking veggie stacks.

“Garlic bread is ready in a bit, but here, it’s ratatouille,” he explains cheerfully, as if an exact replica of the movie’s namesake wasn’t sitting right in front of them. “Well actually it’s confit byaldi, which is a subset of—"

“Oh my god hyung how did you manage to make all these vegetables taste so good?” San interjects with his mouth full, staring holes into the dish and bouncing excitedly as if it would reveal its secrets to him. “Fuck, I burned my mouth.”

And Hongjoong is glad everyone’s attention is off him for now, because it seems his brain has decided to play “Seonghwa says confit byaldi” ten hour loop, which would be fine if this weren’t a wildly inappropriate time to get hot and bothered about it. He fidgets slightly where he’s standing in between San and Yunho’s chairs, and with what little braincells he has left, steals a bite from Yunho’s plate. It’s delicious, because of course it is, and his eyes involuntarily flutter closed as he appreciates the flavor.

Seonghwa stops talking, then, and San and Yunho begin snickering about something, but when Hongjoong opens his eyes to see what’s going on, Seonghwa is already meeting his gaze with a sort of stricken expression on his face. He wants to look away from the intensity of it, but instead steels himself and tilts his head cutely, looking up at Seonghwa through his lashes in what he hopes is an innocent, coy expression. The older promptly chokes on nothing, excusing himself to go have a coughing fit elsewhere, much to the apparent delight of San and Yunho. Huh.

Even though his heart is beating just a bit too fast for comfort, he meets San’s knowing gaze and thinks that maybe there’s something to this.

 

~~~~~

 

Over the next few weeks, they had mostly forgotten about Seonghwa and Jongho’s brief cooking show stint, until the first episode airs and a suspiciously large package arrives at the dorm. Neither Hongjoong nor Seonghwa are there when it arrives, but Mingi texts the group chat with a picture and “It’s addressed to Seonghwa-hyung…?” with a couple of eye emojis. Seonghwa tells him to just leave it, or if he’s that curious he can go ahead and open it, and not two seconds later the group chat buzzes with a picture of a nice-looking little charcoal grill.

The group collectively celebrates, because this means barbequed meat whenever they want (or as much as their budget will allow), and of course Seonghwa agrees graciously. He’s obligated to use the grill anyway, he explains, as it was sent from the show for winning third place.

They wait to use it for the first time until everybody can be home to enjoy it. Seonghwa takes it outside on the balcony one warm evening, dropping in some coal and lighting it before enlisting help to bring out the raw meat and vegetables. The plan is to really go all out to celebrate the announcement of their world tour and all the work put in to make it possible, and the night has everyone feeling just a bit sentimental.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung stay outside with Seonghwa on the balcony, joking around and back-hugging him until he can’t move around well, the tallest dramatically reaching for the meat as two giggling minions weigh down his waist. Seonghwa eventually bats them away with his metal tongs, words scolding but tone incredibly fond.

When the meat is half-cooked, Seonghwa requests that they take a few pictures of him using the grill to send in a thank-you post on social media, and Wooyoung obliges first, squatting down in the cramped balcony space to get the best angles. The pictures are serious for a little while, until Hongjoong starts photobombing, and the photos steadily devolve until the last one is a blurry photo of them hitting the woah and laughing like idiots, tongs still in Seonghwa’s hand.

After they’ve gotten their residual giggles out, Seonghwa thanks Wooyoung for his service, giving him a tiny piece of finished meat as payment and swats his butt to send him inside. Silence falls over them, but it’s comfortable, and neither of them make a move to break it. This is the most relaxed Hongjoong has felt in a while, he thinks, taking in the sounds of grilling meat and chirping crickets. He lets his eyes unfocus and mind drift a bit, brain still passively keeping tabs on Seonghwa.

The food is almost done now, and Hongjoong should probably go check if someone prepared rice like they asked a while ago, but he doesn’t want to leave Seonghwa’s side; he’s the most comfortable here, just the two of them safe and happy without any responsibility to speak of.

“When I was filming for the show,” Seonghwa starts out of the blue, voice soft to fit the atmosphere, “sometimes I would think about your habit of watching me while I cook.”

Any other time, Hongjoong would probably be embarrassed or defensive, but it feels more like a confession than a jab.

“I didn’t realize how much I relied on your support until it wasn’t there,” he admits, finally looking up at Hongjoong. His eyes are earnest as always, the weight of them grounding Hongjoong to his spot. “And your reactions to my creations were always so positive, and honest, that sending up dishes for critique instead was… a bit rough,” he laughs, shaking his head.

“How do you know I was being honest all the time?” Hongjoong goads, because he can’t handle how real Seonghwa is being with him.

“You’re a shit liar, dumpling,” he answers simply, amused smile pulling at his lips.

Oh. That nickname again. Hongjoong’s breath catches without his permission, and he finds himself sans witty comeback as heat floods his face, thankfully hidden due to the dim lighting outside. When it becomes apparent that Hongjoong isn’t going to defend himself, Seonghwa gives him a lopsided smile and finally breaks eye contact. He plates the last of the food and douses the coals, before picking up a platter and motioning for Hongjoong to do the same. He does so on autopilot, brain still stuck on a loop of dumpling dumpling dumpling and follows Seonghwa inside, where everyone begins to gather around the table.

“Damn, hyung laid it down on the grill!” Yunho cheers, eyes raking over the expanse of perfectly grilled meats and vegetables laid out for them. Amongst shouted agreements and praises from their groupmates, Seonghwa flushes a pretty red (still so modest after all this time), and it slips out before Hongjoong can stop it:

“’Wish hyung would lay me down on the grill,” he mutters dazedly, dreamy eyes still locked onto Seonghwa. He immediately claps a hand over his mouth, but luckily it seems no one heard him, as they’re too busy making some kind of cultish chanting circle around the food. He quickly glances at Jongho and Mingi, the two closest to him, but they seem distracted enough.

It isn’t until after they’ve finished eating and everyone else is preoccupied that Jongho pulls Hongjoong aside.

“Hyung, this is getting ridiculous.”

Well. As far as conversation starters go, that sure is a doozy. Hongjoong feels the need to defend himself, because he already knows what this is about, but Jongho beats him to the punch again.

“Really hyung? Lay you down on the grill?” Jongho hisses quietly, all sense of politeness toward elders out the window. It almost sounds funny when he says it like that, but it doesn’t because Hongjoong is about to expire, right now, out of embarrassment. But since Jongho tends to bring out the honesty in him, and he’s decided to be frank, Hongjoong tosses caution to the wind too.

“Well I’m sorry, but have you seen him?” He asks with all the indignance he can muster, waving a hand around haphazardly. Jongho groans.

“Yes, hyung, and it’s because I’ve seen him that I know you two need to get your shit together,” he says, exasperated. “We want you to be happy,” he stresses, tone softer this time, “you and hyung. If it’s insecurity holding you back, about the industry or our reactions or anything else, we have your back, okay? We’re on your side.”

Holding him back?

Hongjoong knew he was past whipped for Seonghwa, but he didn’t necessarily plan on… doing anything about it. He thought he might just hold onto these feelings until he dies, or something. There’s too much on the line to lose if it goes south, so he never even entertained the notion. The idea that he could do something about it? That the other members want him to? It’s a lot to process all at once.

Jongho seems to sense where his mind is, or at least that he’s not in a state to respond right now, and takes pity on him.

“Just think about it,” he requests, squeezing Hongjoong in the briefest of hugs before stalking off elsewhere.

Hongjoong stares at the spot Jongho vacated (a corner) as his thoughts race again. He has their blessing, if he wants it. He holds onto his last shred of denial that it could ever work out between them.

Then lets it go.

He lets himself want. Allows himself to be selfish, this once, and envision a future where they could be happy together. He flits through a hundred possibilities in his mind, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly and everything in between, and finds he doesn’t want it any less. He wants to share every moment with him, wants to lean on Seonghwa and be relied on in turn, wants to go through this life by Seonghwa’s side.

For a moment he wonders if this is one-sided and he’s setting himself up for heartbreak, but the truth has been staring him in the face this whole time.

Seonghwa wants it too, he’s sure.

As soon as he has that last thought, a smooth voice calls him out of his head.

“Hongjoong?” it calls tentatively, delicately. Then his face is cupped by warm hands, and his chin is being lifted so that the owner of it can wipe his tears away, and oh, he didn’t realize he’d been crying. He blinks out of the haze of his mind to see Seonghwa’s concerned face, clearly holding back from going full Protective Mode on him, and offers a watery smile.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Seonghwa questions lowly, eyebrows scrunched and looking as though his heart is breaking for Hongjoong. The man in question brings up one of his hands to rest against Seonghwa’s on his face, shaking his head but smiling gently.

“These aren’t sad tears. Just… give me a second,” Hongjoong whispers, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth the other provides. In the wake of realizing what he wants only seconds ago, being faced with the object of his desires so close after months of dancing around each other, Hongjoong is faced with a choice.

If he confesses now, everything will change. In some way, things will change and that scares him. But he wants so badly to take a risk on this, because… Seonghwa is worth it. He only needs to know if Seonghwa will take a risk on him, too.

He opens his eyes again, Seonghwa dropping his hand so that Hongjoong could wipe away the last of his tears, and gives the older a small, hopeful smile. Seonghwa’s breath hitches as he hesitantly returns it, and the words stick in Hongjoong’s throat.

“Um,” he begins eloquently, then looks over his shoulder because he’s not about to do this with an audience. The room is thankfully vacant, and Hongjoong steels himself to say what he needs to say, his hands latching onto one of Seonghwa’s own to ground him. The words clog Hongjoong’s throat painfully, but he forces them out anyway.

“I like you,” he bursts on a bout of confidence, meeting Seonghwa’s eyes firmly. Seonghwa blinks in shock, but he feels giddy at just having said something. “So much, and I’m sorry if this is sudden, but I realized some things, and,” he trails off, losing confidence. “I just thought you should know,” he finishes lamely. Given the circumstances, he thinks there’s no way his confession can be misconstrued as a “just friends” sort of thing, so he awaits Seonghwa’s response as the older gets his thoughts in order.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though, because a shy smile begins blooming on his face almost as soon as Hongjoong stops talking. Seonghwa laces their fingers together with one hand as the other comes up to cover his smile, as if he really couldn’t believe it. Hongjoong thinks it’s cute.

“You mean that?” he whispers, almost afraid, as though Hongjoong is precariously holding his whole world right now. If this means as much to Seonghwa as it does to Hongjoong, he supposes he might be.

“Yeah,” he answers, raw and vulnerable. “And everything that comes along with it.”

Seonghwa’s eyes shine so bright that Hongjoong almost wants to look away, but he doesn’t, because he needs Seonghwa to know that he’s serious, that he means every word he says. Besides, he still hasn’t really gotten a response.

That comes in the form of the taller leaning in slightly, carefully, eyes flicking down to Hongjoong’s lips to make his intentions clear. A hand comes up to cup Hongjoong’s jaw, and his breathing falters before he surges up to close the remaining space between them.

The kiss is delicate, but assured. At the first press of lips, Seonghwa inhales sharply through his nose, then melts against Hongjoong, the hand against his jaw coming up to comb through his hair. It’s warm, seeping through Hongjoong’s limbs and leaving his head fuzzy, and they fit so well together like this—Hongjoong cradled gently against Seonghwa’s taller frame, nerves singing at every point of contact.

“I like you so unbelievably much, dumpling,” Seonghwa whispers against his lips when they part, and Hongjoong’s poor heart stutters at the admission. Even so, he feels like he’s soaring, unable to stop the smile tugging at his lips as he tucks his face into Seonghwa’s neck, breathing in his scent. Later, they’d have to talk about everything, but for now, this is enough.

 

~~~~~

 

Now that they’re a thing, Hongjoong cannot seem to leave Seonghwa alone.

If they’re in the same room, Hongjoong’s eyes always seek him out, oftentimes to Seonghwa already looking back at him. It makes butterflies dance in his stomach every time their eyes meet, and sometimes Seonghwa will smile this secret little smile, as though Hongjoong just told an inside joke and he’s trying not to laugh. He’ll tone it down in public, of course, and on camera, but he thinks no one misses the absolutely disgusting gooey eyes he can’t help but send the older. And he certainly doesn’t have the presence of mind to stop in the privacy of the dorm.

“You guys are gross,” Yeosang deadpans over a bowl of reheated stew. Seonghwa pauses with a strawberry inches away from Hongjoong’s mouth, blinking over at Yeosang from across the kitchen. Hongjoong is comfortably tucked in his other arm, their bodies almost pulled flush.

“I mean really? Right in front of my salad? Horrible,” Yeosang sighs, slurping from his spoon loudly.

At that, Hongjoong redoubles his efforts to be mushy with Seonghwa, taking the strawberry hand and guiding it to his own mouth, biting down exaggeratedly and fake-moaning at the taste while maintaining eye contact with Yeosang, who mimes gagging and stands to take his stew elsewhere.

“God, I can’t take you guys anywhere,” his muttering sounds down the hall, footsteps fading until his door slams shut.

Hongjoong flicks his eyes back up to Seonghwa, who is red as the strawberry in his hand, and Hongjoong doesn’t process why that is until he realizes his lips are still closed around it and Seonghwa’s fingertips. And if he’s thinking about it, perhaps his exaggerated moan came out a bit more lewdly than he meant it to—

He supposes, then, that his efforts to be mushy didn’t exactly turn out as such, but ever the opportunist, Hongjoong doesn’t particularly have a problem with that. He pulls his lips off slowly, teasingly, maybe accidentally flicking his tongue over a fingertip as he pulls back, chewing slowly and waiting for Seonghwa’s next move.

Because as confident as Hongjoong might be in wanting Seonghwa every which way, they hadn’t exactly discussed much in the way of sex. Hongjoong won’t pressure him, but he has no problem setting the tone, while simultaneously letting Seonghwa know he’s okay with more.

He hasn’t even finished chewing his strawberry before Seonghwa crowds him back into the counter, lips pressing insistently against Hongjoong’s and arms caging him in. He barely has a second to process the attack, sparks exploding in his gut and tingling down his spine, before Seonghwa is licking into his willing mouth, the kiss tasting sweet.

There’s bits of half-chewed strawberry being passed between them with each slide of their tongues, which is pretty gross, but also somehow pretty hot, and Hongjoong groans, unbidden, into Seonghwa’s mouth, hands coming up to clutch at his shirt. He doesn’t mind it, actually kind of likes it even, but it is getting to be a choking hazard, so he pulls back to swallow whatever is in his mouth.

Seonghwa tracks the movement of his throat, swallowing his own strawberry mush, and Hongjoong expects to go right back to kissing him, but Seonghwa’s eyes seem to have stalled somewhere around Hongjoong’s throat and mouth. He swallows thickly again, with intent, and doesn’t miss the way Seonghwa’s pupils blow just a bit wider.

He peeks his tongue out to trace teasingly over his bottom lip, watching as Seonghwa’s eyes snap to the movement, then flick up to meet Hongjoong’s gaze. Seonghwa leans in again, predatory, and holds Hongjoong’s chin steady with a feather-light grip to gently retrace the path Hongjoong’s tongue took with his own. He’s definitely white-knuckling Seonghwa’s shirt now, breath coming out stuttered as he tries not to show how much the simple action affected him. Seonghwa pulls back and levels him with a smirk he reserves for the stage, and Hongjoong has never felt so powerless.

He’s jarred back to reality when someone’s screaming laugh carries through the dorm, startling him into releasing his hold on Seonghwa’s shirt where he’d left embarrassingly prominent wrinkles. Seonghwa blinks down at him in surprise, but releases him and steps back with a little huff of a laugh, seemingly resigning himself to doing decidedly calmer activities that evening. Hongjoong misses his body heat right away, and he doesn’t want to stop for a little spook, but they are still in a shared space.

It seems like they’re still alone in the kitchen for now, and Hongjoong is thankful, because they’ll never hear the end of it from the group if they’re caught doing anything more than PG. But even still, as he hears more shouts and laughter waft through someone’s open door, he’s a little thrilled at the prospect of someone finding them. What’s the harm in a little fun?

It’s with that irresponsible thought that Hongjoong grabs Seonghwa by the hips with a devilish little smirk and flips them so that the older is pinned to the counter, pressing their bodies firmly back together. Seonghwa’s eyes spark in interest, but he holds a hand to Hongjoong’s chest to stop him for a moment.

“Don’t you want to go somewhere a bit more private?” he asks, flicking his eyes toward the hall. That’s certainly not the “stop” Hongjoong was expecting, and Seonghwa doesn’t seem uncomfortable, so Hongjoong presses forward.

“Nah,” he responds noncommittally, nosing along Seonghwa’s jaw, prompting a shiver from the older. It’s cute, how Seonghwa could object if he wanted to, lead them back to their shared room, but defers to Hongjoong’s decision instead. Hongjoong shoots him a coy smile and tries not to laugh around his next words.

“I’ll just eat here.”

And that’s all the warning Seonghwa gets before Hongjoong drops to his knees unceremoniously, running his hands up well-muscled thighs with a shit-eating grin on his face. Seonghwa hisses a curse under his breath, sparing one last cursory glance toward the hall before petting a hand through Hongjoong’s hair appreciatively. Excitement simmers low in Hongjoong’s gut, at the prospect of blowing his boyfriend for the first time, and at the chance of getting caught.

It also makes him feel like the most treasured man on earth if Seonghwa will let them defile the kitchen of all places.

Hongjoong knows they can’t waste time, so he decides to hell with teasing and mouths at Seonghwa’s clothed dick while his fingers trace the waistband of his joggers, asking silent permission. At Seonghwa’s go-ahead, he undoes the simple drawstring, not bothering to hide how eager he is for this. He decides, belatedly, that he really likes the feeling of Seonghwa’s cock hardening against his mouth, feeling his own twitch in the confines of his jeans in turn. He peeks up when he, unfortunately, has to detach his mouth to get rid of the clothing barrier, but the view infinitely makes up for it seeing how wrecked Seonghwa looks already. He has one hand gripped hard on the edge of the counter, bottom lip shiny red and swollen from biting at it to stifle his groans.

His other hand tangles and tugs in Hongjoong’s hair as if he doesn’t know what to do with it, scratching slightly as Hongjoong tugs down his pants just enough to free his dick. Hongjoong strokes over it appreciatively, running his thumb over the slit and marveling at how small his hand looks around it. It’s a pretty cock, fitting for Seonghwa, flushed pink and leaking a small stream of precum that beads over Hongjoong’s thumb and drips slowly downward. Hongjoong catches it mid-air on his tongue, following the path back up over his thumb and finally closing his lips around the head.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa hisses, hips jerking forward slightly to chase the wet heat of Hongjoong’s mouth. It’s hot, how Seonghwa’s control is slipping; his stifled moans and gasps come more freely the farther down Hongjoong takes him, each one further stoking the flame in his gut. When he can’t take any more without gagging, he hollows his cheeks and sucks, fucking Seonghwa’s cock steadily in and out of his mouth. One hand works over what he can’t reach, while the other keeps a steadying grip on Seonghwa’s thigh.

“Fuck, Hongjoongie, look at me,” Seonghwa pants, the hand in his hair coming down to caress his cheek. Hongjoong pulls off almost all the way to make eye contact, swirling his tongue around the head before humming in question, not willing to pull off completely. Seonghwa rolls his hips forward gently, and Hongjoong gives an enthusiastic hum in response, earning himself a groan and a rough hand back in his hair.

Seonghwa starts slow, but eventually builds a rhythm so that he’s sliding about halfway into Hongjoong’s mouth with each thrust, the smaller’s hand working double-time on the rest that doesn’t fit. The slide of skin is so good in his mouth, and the sounds are so obscene and wet in the best way that it’s all getting to be a lot, and Hongjoong palms himself over his pants to relieve some pressure. Seonghwa groans at the sight, bucking his hips a little harder.

“Your mouth looks so pretty on my cock,” he pants, head falling forward and eyes raking over Hongjoong all but gagging on his dick appreciatively. “On your knees for me, getting off on this, god,” he breathes, and Hongjoong has to squirm in place, restless, because he’s getting a little too riled up from just giving head. He whines when Seonghwa pulls his hair sharply, murmuring more filth that goes straight to his groin.

With much difficulty, Hongjoong gets his jeans open with one hand, fumbling to push the zipper down so that he can stroke himself in tandem with Seonghwa’s thrusts. He moans, high-pitched and desperate, causing Seonghwa’s rhythm to falter and respond with a growl of his own.

“Close,” he grits out, hand loosening in Hongjoong’s hair to give him the option to pull away if he wants to. And he does, but not far—Hongjoong rests just the tip on his tongue, abandoning his own arousal as he jerks Seonghwa with both hands, mouth wide open to give him the best view.

“Ah-aah, Joong—” Seonghwa moans as he curls forward, stifling the sound into his knuckles as he comes into Hongjoong’s waiting mouth. And that’s a shame, really, because Seonghwa has such a lovely voice, one that Hongjoong would prefer screaming his name rather than muffling it, so he files that away for next time.

Hongjoong jerks him gently through it, swallowing the first spurts but letting the rest pool on his tongue. He keeps his mouth open for Seonghwa to see, not bothering to move as some drips out of the corners of his mouth and onto his pant legs. His mind is hazy with desire, drunk on the feeling of watching Seonghwa fall apart on his tongue, feeling dirty, marked, and wanted as Seonghwa hisses some rather colorful curses at the filthy picture he makes.

When Seonghwa pulls off his tongue, Hongjoong finally swallows it all, shivering a little at the taste and texture. Seonghwa groans appreciatively, hauling Hongjoong up by the collar of his shirt—Hongjoong stumbles into him, unsteady, and is immediately accosted by Seonghwa meeting him for a blazing open-mouthed kiss, lips almost bruising on Hongjoong’s own. His arms fly up to clutch at Seonghwa’s biceps, and Seonghwa’s hands brace around his waist in turn to keep him from falling.

Hongjoong gives a shuddering moan when Seonghwa pulls back a bit, licking a trail from Hongjoong’s jawline to the corner of his mouth, lapping up the trails of his own cum and tonguing them back into Hongjoong’s mouth. He feels his dick strain at the action, reminding him with stunning clarity that he’s still achingly hard, wound up and waiting for far too long, so he whines softly for Seonghwa to do something, anything.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, dipping a hand into Hongjoong’s pants to grip him.

Hongjoong can’t help the half-desperate cry of relief that falls from his lips at the feeling of friction where he needs it most, from a warm hand considerably larger than his own. He buries his face in Seonghwa’s neck, holding on tightly, toes curling as he chases his own pleasure, and he knows this will be over embarrassingly fast. Hongjoong feels like he’s burning, each gasping breath giving him just enough air to keep him from drowning as Seonghwa works him over sweetly.

“Gonna—” he cuts off with a gasp. “Gonna come, Hwa, please,” he whines, not entirely sure what he’s begging for when all rational thought left him a while ago.

But Seonghwa seems to understand, murmuring a soft “come for me, dumpling,” before Hongjoong is shaking in his arms, coming with a choked-off moan pressed into the juncture of Seonghwa’s neck.

It takes a minute for Hongjoong’s breathing to return to normal and for his heart to stop hammering so hard in his chest, but when he’s calmed down, he nuzzles at Seonghwa’s jaw with a happy hum.

“Awwh, look at you, you’re purring,” Seonghwa coos, leaning up slightly to kiss Hongjoong’s forehead.

“Am not,” Hongjoong mumbles, but he thinks he wouldn’t mind being Seonghwa’s cat if it gets him kisses.

The position is a little awkward because Seonghwa still has most of Hongjoong’s cum cupped in his hand, but they stay tangled together for a few more moments before parting to clean up. After their hands and faces have been washed, and the spot they defiled has been thoroughly sanitized, Hongjoong notices a distinct lack of chatter in the dorm. It’s… suspiciously quiet, until,

“Do you think hyungs are done fucking in the kitchen? I’m hungry,” sounds a voice that is distinctly San’s. Hongjoong barks an incredulous laugh, meeting Seonghwa’s bright red face with a grimace of his own. So much for being discreet.

“Sorry Sannie,” Hongjoong singsongs. Cautious footsteps sound up the hall before San peeks his head around the corner, immediately grimacing at their disheveled appearances. “But you signed up for this,” Hongjoong finishes with a cheeky smirk, going to drag Seonghwa to their room for cuddles.

Chapter 3: You’re my Butter Half (I’m Whipped)

Summary:

all fluff and smut yeehaw

Notes:

um so yea before we get into it i wanna say a few things. the first is

ADUDNDHSJDUSJFBS IM SO SORRY??? after nearly a FULL YEAR were back with the last chapter 😭 so yea this is me trying to fit a whole year of canon moments into the fic

the second is well, since its been a year, my writing has definitely changed, so if theres inconsistencies in style and tone i hope it doesnt break immersion or anything too much D:

and the third is!!! thank you. thank you to everyone who commented, bookmarked, kudo’d, wrote me comment essays?? and for being SO PATIENT! everyone who has been actively waiting for a resolution has the patience of a goddamn saint lmfao. so i shouldnt make you wait any longer! here she is :’)

Hongjoong knows he has an unhealthy fixation with watching Seonghwa cook, he knows. He tries not to let it show, suspecting it would become a point of relentless teasing, but sometimes he gets caught up in the way Seonghwa’s hands flex around the handle of a knife, confident and firm, or the way his face locks down into something serious and intense when he’s working, and well. Hongjoong is only human, after all.

 

He just doesn’t expect for Seonghwa to have the same fixation with watching Hongjoong eat his food. It works out perfectly, almost too perfectly, and Hongjoong thinks it’s less of a win-win and more of a win-win-win-win-wi—

 

And once Hongjoong figured that out, it became his new favorite hobby to see how riled up he could get Seonghwa just from eating.

 

Case in point, they’re seated at the dining table, the other members all around them and spirits light for an early evening in, and Seonghwa will not stop staring at his mouth. Hongjoong thinks he must have a little bit of sauce or something on the left corner of his mouth, because Seonghwa’s been trying and failing to look away from that spot for the last five minutes. Hongjoong is endeared.

 

“Hyungie,” San whines from his side, snapping him out of his Seonghwa-induced trance. “Were you even listening?”

 

“Of course I was, Sannie. You were saying about the new choreography?” he covers easily, glancing at San with a quick grin, thanking his passive perception for the quick save. San seems pleased enough by the reply, and Hongjoong goes to zone back out onto his boyfriend’s beautiful face.

 

Except, Seonghwa is meeting his eyes rather than the corner of his mouth when he looks back over, and Hongjoong is momentarily stunned by the raw affection in Seonghwa’s eyes. He lets fondness swell and crest for a moment before shooing it out of his mind, because Hongjoong doesn’t want to be tender and affectionate right now.

 

Hongjoong wants to play.

 

He starts with the sauce at the corner of his mouth, opening his lips a tad further than necessary to swipe his tongue along his lower lip, gathering the sauce and retracting it again. Seonghwa’s eyes have tightened, gaze fixed back to staring holes into Hongjoong’s lips, but he’s not done yet. Feigning interest in San’s non-stop breakdown of today’s new choreography, he gathers a spoonful of the fried rice Seonghwa made for them and spoons it into his mouth. It’s delicious, and Hongjoong doesn’t even have to act, letting his face do whatever it wants at the burst of flavor. He keeps the spoon close to his mouth, turning it over and licking slowly at the convex side, feigning mindlessness. When he deems he’s put on enough of a show, he sets the spoon down and glances back across the table.

 

Seonghwa looks pained.

 

And so does Yeosang, who is sitting right next to his target audience. Hongjoong stifles a laugh at his open look of disgust, trying to pass a silent apology through his gaze. It probably doesn’t work, though, because he’s too amused to really be apologetic, and Yeosang pointedly turns a full ninety degrees in his chair to talk to Mingi.

 

Seonghwa’s face is pinched, fingers gripped hard around his spoon suspended above his own rice bowl. His gaze is hard on Hongjoong’s spoon, as though it had personally offended him, and Hongjoong purposely drums his fingers near it to snap him out of it. Seonghwa assesses him for a long moment, pursing his lips slightly as Hongjoong does his best to look innocent. Hongjoong tilts his head then, nodding toward Seonghwa’s spoon in a mockery of a question, and without breaking eye contact Seonghwa goes to stab his rice.

 

He misses.

 

~~~~~

 

Seonghwa corners him in their room later that night, after a fun movie night and quality time with the rest of the members. As soon as Hongjoong steps inside, he’s being pushed back up against the door, shoulders pinned and Seonghwa’s voice low in his ear.

 

“What were you trying to do to me, Hongjoongie?” he murmurs, leaning in to nose at Hongjoong’s cheek.

 

Hongjoong releases a breathy chuckle at Seonghwa’s eagerness, feeling him smile in turn against his skin.

 

“I dunno, Hwa,” he drawls, tilting his head to allow Seonghwa access to his jaw and neck. “Depends if it worked,” he breathes, hands trailing along Seonghwa’s waist lightly.

 

“Were you getting impatient, my love?” he asks, and Hongjoong sucks in a breath at the sweet pet name. But he doesn’t have the sense of mind to be embarrassed because it’s true, he has been impatient. Day after day packed with busy schedules left him with little time to explore their relationship, explore Seonghwa, and Hongjoong thinks a little intimacy is long overdue.

 

“Would you think I’m easy if I said yes?” Hongjoong teases cheekily, all hesitation from their first few months of being together melted away. He can hear the amusement in his voice and knows Seonghwa can as well, if his responding chuckle is anything to go by. Seonghwa straightens back up, then, to look Hongjoong in the eye with a playful grin of his own.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being easy.”

 

Hongjoong gasps, mock-offended, and only gets as far as smacking him on the arm before his reply is muffled by Seonghwa’s lips in an indignant “mmph!” He laughs into the kiss for a moment, threading his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, enjoying the ease of just being with him.

 

But if Seonghwa wants to play dirty, so can he.

 

Hongjoong deepens the kiss, parting his lips readily for Seonghwa to follow his lead, tugging on jet black hair a little more insistently when he slides their tongues together. He doesn’t know how kissing Seonghwa can feel like home only some months into their relationship, but it feels right, and when Seonghwa slips one hand into his hair and the other just under his shirt, Hongjoong’s heart sings, his pulse drumming harder. He lets the kiss tumble into something more heated, more passionate, before he feels Seonghwa drawing away.

 

“I…” Seonghwa starts, eyes wild and breaths coming in quick bursts. He looks just about as overwhelmed as Hongjoong feels, all cherry red cheeks and blown-black pupils, so Hongjoong runs a hand up and down his arm to soothe him. “Did you, um, Hongjoongie, if you were wanting to—”

 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong laughs, rubbing a thumb across Seonghwa’s cheek. “It’s just me, baby, what’s got you so nervous?” He asks, panting slightly into the silence of their room. Seonghwa ducks his head, still momentarily shy, but manages to word-vomit the question after a breath.

 

“Do you want me? Now? I mean sex. Sex with me, now? I mean—”

 

“I’ve wanted to climb you like a tree for months,” Hongjoong blurts, giddy with the realization that his wish is finally coming true tonight.

 

“Oh,” Seonghwa blinks, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes for a moment before returning to Hongjoong’s gaze with an excited little smile. “What are we waiting for, then?” He asks with that adorable smile, and the juxtaposition of that with the ferocity with which Seonghwa slams their mouths together almost gives him whiplash.

 

They’re both smiling a little too much to kiss smoothly at first, nerves alight and the air between them charged with eager anticipation. It’s a lot, being the focus of Seonghwa’s undivided intensity like this, and he’s reminded of how Seonghwa is able to flip a switch and become another person on stage. Hongjoong’s hands roam across his chest, down and around Seonghwa’s tapered waist to squeeze at his ass, and only lets him break away to breathe after a pointedly sharp bite to the bottom lip.

 

He’s drawn to the sheen of spit on Seonghwa’s lips, licking over his own as Seonghwa collects his thoughts.

 

“Would you want to—” Seonghwa breathes nervously, “do you want to give or receive?”

 

It takes Hongjoong’s brain a good couple of seconds to catch up with what he really asked, and god if that wasn’t such a Seonghwa way to ask it.

 

“Anything, either,” he responds almost desperately, pulling Seonghwa back down sloppily for another kiss. “But right now,” he pants, “I’d really like it if you could split me open on your cock.”

 

Seonghwa huffs something like a laugh, a little crazed, before swooping back down quickly on Hongjoong’s lips once, twice.

 

“Okay, yeah, fuck,” he breathes, gripping Hongjoong’s lithe frame tighter.

 

Stars fly behind his eyelids as Seonghwa kisses him, and Hongjoong can’t help but think he’s deliciously hot like this: hands running up his sides possessively, lips hot and commanding and a hard length pressed against his hip. Hongjoong squirms at the feeling, his own erection twitching against the thigh of Seonghwa’s stupidly long leg, trying to resist chasing his own pleasure by rutting forward. It seems Seonghwa isn’t playing coy, though, because his hands come down to grip Hongjoong’s ass on a harsh bite to his neck, and the fight is lost when Hongjoong’s hips decide to cant upward of their own accord.

 

“Seonghwa-aah,” Hongjoong whines around a moan, rutting shallowly against Seonghwa’s thigh. “We should move to the bed, before we come in our pants—nh— like horny teenagers,” he grits out as the man in question licks a trail up to his jaw.

 

“Maybe horny teenagers just have the right idea,” Seonghwa pants in his ear, reluctant to detach himself from Hongjoong’s front, and the proximity coupled with that low, low voice goes straight to Hongjoong’s dick. He whines again, petulant, and Seonghwa finally gets the picture, leading them back to the bed with an impatient grunt.

 

Seonghwa pushes him down before he presses forward and crashes their lips together again, teeth clacking together uncomfortably for a second before they find their rhythm. Hongjoong sighs as he buries his hands in Seonghwa’s hair, relishing in the jolts of heat traveling through his body.

 

He gets Seonghwa to remove his shirt, allowing himself five seconds of unashamed ogling before going for his pants as well. When Seonghwa is finally naked enough for Hongjoong’s liking, he maneuvers them so that Seonghwa is on his back, flushed and wanting and absolutely gorgeous.

 

All for Hongjoong.

 

“You too,” Seonghwa pouts, tugging at the collar of Hongjoong’s hoodie.

 

Hongjoong obliges, shedding his hoodie and shirt in one go, willing down the flush that spreads over his cheeks at Seonghwa’s little noise when he reaches for his belt. He raises an eyebrow in Seonghwa’s direction, but he’s pointedly looking away from Hongjoong now, rummaging around in the bedside drawer for lube.

 

A perk of being sexually intimate with your own roommate, Hongjoong supposes, is being able to share paraphernalia like this. One day just a few weeks ago, they had drunk a little too much after everyone else went to bed, and somehow, the conversation shifted to masturbation and what they do to get off. The next thing Hongjoong knew, he was laying out his lube and toys, drunkenly explaining how he uses the dildo or the vibrator when he has the time (which he lamented to being almost never). Seonghwa’s eyes had zeroed in on his fleshlight, though, and that evening at 2am Hongjoong found the hottest orgasm he’d ever had, fucking down into the fleshlight while Seonghwa watched.

 

He snaps out of his reverie when Seonghwa whines for him, pouty and desperate.

 

“I’m coming, you big baby,” Hongjoong teases, dropping the rest of his clothes to the floor and rejoining Seonghwa on the bed.

 

“Not my fault you’re irresistible,” Seonghwa sighs happily as Hongjoong settles on top of him, the brush of bare skin making him shiver. Hongjoong buries his face in Seonghwa’s shoulder, pleased, kissing delicately at the skin before mouthing his way up to Seonghwa’s jaw. His breathy moans are like sweet music to Hongjoong’s ears, his own voice joining the melody as a slick finger teases his rim.

 

Seonghwa’s finger falls still against him, a silent question, and Hongjoong breathes an encouragement before his finger pushes in to the first knuckle. Hongjoong gives an undignified squeak, grinding back to try to fit more of Seonghwa’s finger inside. He’s no stranger to playing with his ass (and he knows that Seonghwa isn’t either), but it feels different when it’s someone else’s finger inside him; it burns hotter this way, the feeling of being desired.

 

Hongjoong squirms on top of him when one finger turns into two, rutting down onto Seonghwa’s thigh to relieve a little tension. He tries not to make too much noise, acutely aware of the keyboard clacks and low laughter coming from other rooms, but one accidental brush against his prostate tosses that plan out the window. Seonghwa also hasn’t stopped sucking love bites into his skin, which does nothing for his self-control, and he thinks that if Seonghwa doesn’t do something soon he’ll take matters into his own hands.

 

Thankfully, though, Seonghwa generously lubes a third finger, and with a satisfied groan, Hongjoong feels full. Seonghwa’s fingers are so lovely, he thinks with a sigh, curling into him just right and reaching places he can’t get to with his own. The burn of the stretch doesn’t last very long with the lube positively dripping out of his ass coupled with Seonghwa’s gentle touches, so he pushes back in time when he feels ready.

 

“I’m ready, Hwa, please,” he breathes, meeting his boyfriend’s smoldering eyes. “Do you want me?”

 

Hongjoong isn’t sure what possesses himself to ask; maybe he needs the confirmation of enthusiastic consent, or maybe he needs to reassure his own self-esteem, just a little.

 

He doesn’t know what he needs, but Seonghwa gives it to him without missing a beat.

 

“Of course I want you,” he groans, “have you seen you?”

 

Hongjoong’s breathless laugh is cut short as Seonghwa flips them so that Hongjoong is resting back against the pillows. “I want you all the time, Hongjoong-ah,” he murmurs, kissing along a blushing cheek.

 

“Okay, you sap,” Hongjoong smiles, pleased. “I really want you, too,” he admits freely, wiggling to get more comfortable. “Now if you would please do the honors and put your dick in me, we can get this show on the road.”

 

Hongjoong tries not to look too smug as Seonghwa sputters around a response, but reaches for a condom anyway and studiously avoids eye contact as he rolls it on. He gets lost in the way Seonghwa fists his hard length for a moment, mouth watering as Seonghwa makes a show of rolling his hips up into his lube-slicked hand. Hongjoong lets out an involuntary whine, legs reaching out to pull in Seonghwa by the waist.

 

And finally, finally, when Hongjoong feels the head of Seonghwa’s cock nudge against his entrance, he sighs in eager anticipation. Seonghwa is gentle as he pushes in slowly, carefully gauging Hongjoong’s face for pinches of discomfort. When he finds none, and bottoms out against the back of Hongjoong’s thighs, they release a shared exhale, lips coming together like magnets again.

 

Hongjoong takes a moment just to feel; Seonghwa is hot and heavy inside him, the perfect pressure of a stretch that’s just enough to be satisfying. Of course Seonghwa would have a perfect cock, he thinks dreamily, not too small or too large. A perfect fit. And the way his elbows are braced on either side of Hongjoong’s head makes him feel safe and secure, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

 

“You can move,” he whispers against Seonghwa’s cheek, pressing a kiss there a moment later. Seonghwa grins at him momentarily, something small and special just for him, and draws his hips out.

 

They groan in unison as Seonghwa’s hips meet his ass again, the hot slide somehow too much and not enough. Hongjoong throws his head back, enamored with the way Seonghwa’s cock reaches to all the right places inside of him, his own dick twitching at the low sounds Seonghwa makes in his ear. And Seonghwa himself is a sight: eyebrows furrowed and mouth hanging open sweetly as he nudges Hongjoong’s body up and down slightly with each roll of his hips.

 

“You feel so good,” Seonghwa whimpers in his ear, breath stuttering on an inhale as Hongjoong clenches around him. It’s hot, knowing he has this effect on someone like Seonghwa, someone who could probably bring men to their knees by his piercing gaze alone. Hongjoong revels in it, digging his nails into Seonghwa’s back on a particularly pointed thrust.

 

“Harder baby, please,” Hongjoong gasps, losing himself to the sensations of the wet drag of skin and Seonghwa all around him. And Seonghwa complies, momentarily adjusting his knees on the bed before snapping into him, hard.

 

Hongjoong does not claim ownership of the noise that leaves his mouth, then, something strangled between a moan and an “oh fuck” as Seonghwa well and truly begins pounding into him.

 

“Seongh—nguh,” Hongjoong moans intelligently, eyes rolling back as his body is jostled with each thrust. Distantly, he can hear the bed creaking rhythmically and he knows they’re going to get shit for this tomorrow, but present Hongjoong is getting his brains fucked out and feels too good to care.

 

Seonghwa grips onto his hips, using the leverage to fuck him deeper, and Hongjoong can’t help the strangled moan that flies out of his mouth at the new angle. One of his own hands shoots down to grab at Seonghwa’s on his hip, just resting it there when Seonghwa is too preoccupied digging bruises into his hips to let go and intertwine their fingers. All the better that he doesn’t let go, Hongjoong thinks. He wants a reminder on his skin tomorrow.

 

“You’re so—” Seonghwa’s voice catches, “so beautiful, Hongjoong,” he moans, the words breaking a sort of verbal dam. “I want you like this all the time, I wish you could—fuck—see how hot you look under me,” Seonghwa groans, the words stirring hot in Hongjoong’s gut. “Wish you could feel—”

 

“Let—hah—let me fuck you next time and I can,” Hongjoong counters cheekily, Seonghwa’s rhythm faltering as he laughs.

 

“Deal,” Seonghwa agrees easily, both of them groaning on a particularly pointed thrust.

 

“Hongjoong, fuck, I’m not going to last,” Seonghwa pants, sounding truly regretful. “Do you want me to slow down, or…?” He trails off at the end, wrapping a hand around Hongjoong’s length in question.

 

And despite Hongjoong’s horny-clouded brain, he finds it incredibly endearing that Seonghwa will leave it up to him, will work to get him off first.

 

Seonghwa is sweet like that.

 

“I want you to—fuck, come—come inside,” Hongjoong barely grits out. As much as he’d love to enjoy the feeling of Seonghwa inside him for hours, they’ve been so pent up lately between rushed schedules and no alone time, and Hongjoong himself is in desperate need of release.

 

Plus, it’s a terrible boost for his ego that Seonghwa is coming undone so fast.

 

Seonghwa practically sobs in response, hips stuttering an uneven rhythm as he jerks Hongjoong sloppily. The slick precome leaking from Hongjoong’s dick makes the slide incredibly satisfying, and between Seonghwa’s loose grip and the hard length in his ass, Hongjoong doesn’t think he’ll be too far behind.

 

“Coming, coming—” Seonghwa pants with a choked off moan, stilling his hips as he buries his himself to the hilt and comes into the condom. His face alone is enough to fuel Hongjoong’s wet dreams for weeks, so with Seonghwa’s hand still mindlessly jerking him, he comes all over his abdomen with a cry that vaguely resembles Seonghwa’s name.

 

They lay tangled in each other for a few moments, kissing lazily and basking in the afterglow, until Seonghwa decides that cum going cold on their bodies is no longer romantic. With a groan, he pushes himself up and pulls out slowly, Hongjoong’s hole uselessly clenching around nothing. Seonghwa runs the pad of his thumb over it with an awe-struck look on his face, until Hongjoong smacks at his wrist, embarrassed and sensitive.

 

“Sorry,” Seonghwa laughs at Hongjoong’s blush. “You’re just,” he pauses, seemingly finding the words. “Really hot.”

 

And Hongjoong laughs at him in turn, because no one is giving Seonghwa’s post-orgasm brain points for artistry, and he’ll take a compliment from his gorgeous boyfriend any day of the week. Hongjoong massages his sore hips and thighs while waiting for Seonghwa to come back with a towel, content to lay there and drift up in the clouds, happy.

 

The floaty feeling doesn’t leave while Seonghwa gently cleans him, or when they stand, side by side, doing their nightly routines, and certainly not when he lays down cuddled up in Seonghwa’s arms, dropping off to sleep with a gentle kiss pressed to his forehead.

 

~~~~~

 

Their lives progress in uneven bursts and stalls, and so too does their relationship.

 

 

They grow more comfortable with physical intimacy; so comfortable, in fact, that they’ve almost slipped in the public eye more than once.

 

 

In their lives, existing in front of cameras has almost become second nature, so Hongjoong constantly has to remind himself that he can’t kiss Seonghwa here, can’t hold him the way he wants to until they’re back in the privacy of their dorm. But how can he, when all he wants to do is scream to the world that this beautiful man is his? How can he resist peeking at Seonghwa with wonder-struck eyes, gaze lingering a little too long to be anything other than romantic? He allows himself the small moments, quiet seconds stolen backstage where they are sequestered away just enough, and it’s okay. They’re happy like this.

 

 

When Hongjoong’s feelings get too big for his body, though, he turns to music.

 

 

Hongjoong writes a song for Seonghwa, and his only star sings it back to him on stage, bowing to him in front of thousands of fans. He has to blink back the fond tears that threaten to spill over, then, overwhelmed and fond and grateful grateful grateful.

 

 

That night, Seonghwa rides him slow and languid, whispering sweet praises into his temple until they shake apart in each other's arms, cheeks wet with emotions neither of them need to verbalize.

 

 

And Seonghwa, he finds, is full of surprises.

 

 

Aside from continuing to (semi-successfully) urge Hongjoong toward healthier sleeping habits, he puts up a ridiculous framed photo of Hongjoong in their room while he’s out one day.

 

 

“I thought I’d be happy looking at it, but it just makes me miss you more,” Seonghwa pouts when pressed for an explanation, and Hongjoong tries not to feel deserving of the Shittiest Boyfriend of the Year title. “It’s okay, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa rushes to reassure. “I know you do it for us.”

 

The photo mysteriously disappears after that, but new decorations take its place.

 

When Christmas rolls around, and the eight of them have a small celebration in high spirits, Seonghwa takes Hongjoong back to their room where he’d set up a small sprig of mistletoe. Hongjoong doesn’t even notice it until he’s laying down on the bottom bunk, because it’s in kind of a weird spot.

 

“Seonghwa-yah,” Hongjoong calls, making Seonghwa turn, laughing at Hongjoong’s affronted gesturing.

“It’s not even above my face,” he accuses, only to be met with silence and an amused look from Seonghwa. But looking again, following the line of the mistletoe straight down from where it’s tied onto one of the top bunk’s slats yields that it’s actually sitting right above his—

 

Oh.

 

That day, Seonghwa had blown him within an inch of his life, only pulling back at the last second to let Hongjoong’s release splatter over his cheeks and mouth, leveling him with a lidded gaze that looked downright pornographic.

 

It scares Hongjoong sometimes, how much he wants Seonghwa.

 

He wants Seonghwa in the morning when they’re barely awake, trading soft kisses wrapped up together in a safe cocoon of warmth. He wants him during dance practice, when Seonghwa practices his infuriatingly sexy expressions in the mirror, sweat trailing down his neck and disappearing into his shirt. Hongjoong even wants him when he’s being a lovable idiot on the talk shows they frequent—he chides himself for being far too horny when Seonghwa strikes his mantis pose and Hongjoong finds himself wanting to rail him into next week.

 

Unfortunately, though, their busy schedules don’t always allow for them to be alone together as much as they’d like, and Hongjoong can’t help but feel small twinges of guilt when their… activities lead long into the night. Seonghwa seems happy to indulge him, but Hongjoong doesn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes after a night of too-little sleep, swiftly covered with makeup. Seonghwa isn’t blessed with Hongjoong’s uncanny ability to fall asleep anytime anywhere, so Hongjoong tries not to overdo it, some nights pressing gentle kisses to Seonghwa’s barely responsive lips before they both drift off to sleep.

 

He just wonders if sometimes, he pushes Seonghwa for too much. And he wonders, deep in the back of his mind, if Seonghwa would tell him if he did.

 

~~~~~

 

It’s another quiet evening when Hongjoong finds himself enraptured by Seonghwa in the kitchen again, headphones down around his neck and laptop already having gone to sleep from disuse. Seonghwa’s knife comes down steady on the vegetables he’s chopping, the little tok’s of the knife hitting the cutting board sounding out in time with the song Seonghwa is humming. The harsh lighting of the kitchen reflects off his shiny silver hair, making him seem even more ethereal than any being in an oversized shirt and sweats has a right to be.

 

Hongjoong wants to touch.

 

Hongjoong can touch.

 

He waits until Seonghwa has put the knife down and goes to check the recipe he’s following before coming up behind him, sliding his hands over narrow hips and rising on his toes to lean his chin on Seonghwa’s shoulder. Seonghwa tilts his head back, comfortable, as he puts his phone down and places his hands atop Hongjoong’s. For a moment, they stay unmoving, swaying slightly to the peaceful melody Seonghwa hasn’t stopped humming, but his voice falters as Hongjoong trails his hands up Seonghwa’s waist, bringing his front flush against Seonghwa’s back.

 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighs, something hushed and reverent. When Hongjoong only presses kisses to his neck in response, Seonghwa huffs, “I thought you were hungry.”

 

“You could say that,” Hongjoong smirks, brushing his fingers over the waistband of his sweats. Seonghwa gasps, scandalized, swatting at Hongjoong’s hand lightly.

 

“I’m not letting you defile the kitchen again, you horndog,” Seonghwa laughs. “But actually, did you want me to finish this soup for us or n—ahh,” he cuts off when Hongjoong boldly palms him over his sweats.

 

It’s like a flip is switched in him, then, and Hongjoong barely has time to blink before Seonghwa turns in his arms, gripping Hongjoong’s hips tight to press him back into the counter.

 

“So needy, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa chastises, pupils blowing dark. “Was last night not enough for you?”

 

Hongjoong shivers, remembering the feeling of two of Seonghwa’s long fingers fucking him open while his mouth worked over Hongjoong’s length in tandem. Hongjoong feels a wave of shame crash over him, squirming in Seonghwa’s hold. Even though it’s a free day and they had slept in, was it too much?

 

“S-Sorry,” he mumbles, averting his eyes. “I just—you’re so—”

 

“No, don’t be sorry,” Seonghwa reassures quickly. He gently places a hand on Hongjoong’s cheek, demeanor shifting as he takes in Hongjoong’s state. “I like it when you’re needy,” Seonghwa all but purrs, Hongjoong flushing at the admission.

 

“But,” Hongjoong protests, insecurities pouring out now that the dam has been opened. “Do I ask for too much? We’ve been so busy lately, and don’t pretend like I don’t see how exhausted you are in the mornings, you used to be the one waking me up,” Hongjoong worries. “A-And I don’t want you to think I only want you for sex either—” Seonghwa chokes on air, waving a hand madly as if to clear the air.

 

“Hongjoong, I do not think you only want me for sex, that’s,” he sputters incredulously, not even finishing the thought. Hongjoong chews on the inside of his cheek, equal parts grateful and embarrassed at Seonghwa’s disbelief. “I like that you want me so much. It’s hot. It’s flattering, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not just some casual bystander in this—I’m just as bad,” Seonghwa chuckles, gesturing to himself. That finally gets Hongjoong to crack a smile, relief flooding through him at the admission.

 

“But I guess you’re right in that we haven’t been getting much sleep,” Seonghwa hums thoughtfully. Hongjoong lets that hang in the air, nibbling on his lip as he’s caught between wanting to take care of Seonghwa and wanting to jump him every calendar day.

 

“I’ll tell you what,” Seonghwa starts. “Let’s eat now—don’t look at me like that—let’s eat now, catch up on some rest, and if we feel up to it later,” he leans in, “I’ll show you how much I really don’t mind.”

 

“O-Okay,” Hongjoong agrees easily, face warming. It’s a relief to hear that he hasn’t been too needy, and he’s glad they’re able to come to a compromise, at least for today. Maybe he’ll compromise more with himself and jump Seonghwa a little less during the busier periods, when they have an album to promote and are double-booked on all kinds of shows.

 

Seonghwa bops him on the nose.

 

“Stop thinking so loud, we’ll be okay, Hongjoong-ah,” he smiles, the easy confidence soothing him. “Now, do you think this soup could use some dumplings?” Seonghwa asks, to which Hongjoong nods, grateful for the topic change and for Seonghwa’s ability to keep an easy atmosphere.

 

“Cute,” Seonghwa muses. “Dumplings for my dumpling,” he beams, finally releasing Hongjoong to get back to work on the soup. His heart stutters a little at the nickname every time, but he won’t let Seonghwa get the upper hand this time.

 

“Cannibalism,” Hongjoong mutters under his breath, almost making Seonghwa drop his carrots from his sudden snort of laughter.

 

In the end, Hongjoong refocuses on his work while Seonghwa busies himself with cooking, occasionally dropping by to have Hongjoong sample this or that. Hongjoong fake gags once, when the soup is almost done, and Seonghwa’s expression of genuine horror completely justifies his punishment of dish duty. He still feels a little bad, though, so after they’ve eaten and Hongjoong serves his punishment, he lets Seonghwa pick the movie they cuddle up with.

 

But when Seonghwa chooses Despicable Me, claiming he just loves the three little girls and isn’t fueling Hongjoong’s minion addiction, Hongjoong knows he isn’t really mad.

 

The movie is interesting, it really is; but Seonghwa is comfortable, and he doesn’t have any pressing deadlines to worry about, so he lets himself doze against Seonghwa’s shoulder before the movie is even halfway over. He feels Seonghwa shift at one point to brush his lips against Hongjoong’s forehead, before reaching forward to turn the volume down, settling back in gently.

 

The last thing he hears before succumbing to sleep is a whispered reassurance, safe and calm in Seonghwa’s arms.

 

Hongjoong stirs some hours later, the late afternoon sun filtering in through the window. He closes the laptop, long since darkened from disuse, and sets it aside before curling back in toward his warm boyfriend. Seonghwa stirs a little with his movement, and Hongjoong watches through heavy eyelids as his eyebrows furrow, face smooshing further into the pillow, trying to chase a dream. He’s adorable all soft and sleepy like this, something Hongjoong wishes he could preserve as a moment in time, close to his heart.

 

“T’frm,” Seonghwa mutters, half heartedly smacking a hand down in between them.

 

“What?” Hongjoong laughs, waking up a little more.

 

“Too… far,” Seonghwa tries again, pulling Hongjoong into his chest with surprising strength. Hongjoong squeaks in surprise as he goes, but quickly settles in against Seonghwa, tucking his head into the crook of his neck and rearranging his hips more comfortably against—

 

“Are you hard?” Hongjoong blinks, most residual sleepiness leaving his mind. Seonghwa furrows his brows.

 

“’Dunno,” he answers noncommittally, giving an experimental grind down onto Hongjoong’s leg. “Mmh, guess so,” he mumbles, finally cracking his eyes open to locate Hongjoong’s nose and nuzzle his own against it. One of his hands travels down to squeeze Hongjoong’s ass, pressing his hips forward.

 

“Are you not hard?” Seonghwa asks somewhat petulantly. As if Hongjoong were the weird one here.

 

“Keep going and I will be,” Hongjoong gasps, hands coming up to rest on Seonghwa’s chest. He seals their lips in an open-mouthed kiss, and when they break away Seonghwa finally looks awake.

 

“Hmm, sounds good to me,” he says with a smirk, still a bit sleepy around the edges. “So, are we going to talk all evening, or are you going to fuck me?”

 

And Hongjoong does—first right where they are, appreciating the way Seonghwa’s back tenses and relaxes with how he clutches at the sheets, moans spilling out onto the pillow, and later, when he begins cleaning the lube out of Seonghwa’s hole in the shower and decides it can stay there for a little bit longer.

 

Hongjoong doesn’t know if he’ll ever tire of having Seonghwa every which way. Seonghwa is intoxicating, a presence that burns brighter than the planet he’s named after and loves stronger than anything Hongjoong has experienced in his life. He spends his days leaning on Seonghwa and supporting him in turn, and his evenings grateful that they took the risk.

 

~~~~~

 

To Hongjoong’s surprise, Seonghwa takes them out for dinner on Valentine’s Day.

 

Of course, it isn’t really on Valentine’s Day, but it’s the closest free day they have to it, and it’s the thought that counts.

 

When Hongjoong teases him about it, gripes something about him not wanting to put in the effort to cook today of all days, Seonghwa just smiles, citing that he wants to give Hongjoong his undivided focus today of all days. Hongjoong flushes red at the teasing, grateful to be sequestered away in a private back room for their date.

 

Seonghwa looks stunning tonight, a navy blue suit draped over his frame beautifully. He’s gone a bit heavy on the makeup, a smoky eye giving way to dramatic winged liner, and Hongjoong isn’t proud of the way he stood rooted to the ground earlier that evening, making an effort to close his damn mouth when Seonghwa came to greet him. Looking back, he’s begrudgingly, perhaps a little grateful that San and Wooyoung had them get ready separately, citing something about a dramatic reveal.

 

And dramatic it was, when Hongjoong couldn’t pick his jaw up from the floor and Seonghwa let out a genuinely distressed-sounding curse, eyes raking over Hongjoong’s form.

 

So despite almost jumping each other on the cab ride over, Hongjoong thinks they’re off to a great start.

 

But now that they’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, settling into their chairs lightly discussing the menu, Hongjoong can’t help but think Seonghwa looks a little… uncomfortable. He shifts in his chair a little too often, mouth pulled down into the slightest of grimaces when he does. He’ll straighten his back only to relax again soon after, shoulders wiggling in a slight shimmy before falling still again. It isn’t Seonghwa’s usual rocking back and forth either—though that is a very endearing habit in itself.

 

Seonghwa seems to sense eyes on him and looks up, giving Hongjoong a soft smile. Nothing about it looks fake or forced; if anything, Seonghwa seems to relax more under Hongjoong’s attention. Huh.

 

Seonghwa stops fidgeting for a while, but after they order, he rolls his shoulder a bit, pursing his lips.

 

“Baby,” Hongjoong calls.

 

Seonghwa looks up with wide eyes, ears tinting pink. Hongjoong uses pet names sparingly, usually reserved for when he’s trying to get Seonghwa to do something for him, or when he’s just feeling particularly in love, so he treasures Seonghwa’s surprise.

 

“Are you feeling okay? Is your shoulder hurting you?” he asks, not bothering to stop the raw concern bleeding into his voice. Curiously, though, that only seems to fluster his boyfriend, and he watches with hawk eyes as Seonghwa assures him that he’s not in any pain, apologizing for worrying him.

 

Seonghwa doesn’t seem like he’s lying, earnest eyes sparkling in that way of his. But Hongjoong knows that Seonghwa can be persuasive, often brushing off his own discomfort to preserve an easy atmosphere, or to ensure no one worries about him.

 

“Okay, but if you’re not feeling well, I won’t be opposed to a quiet night at home,” Hongjoong assures him, and Seonghwa looks at him like he hung the moon.

 

When the food arrives, Seonghwa settles down, eyes lighting up at the taste of a dish he hadn’t quite perfected at home. He’s absolutely adorable, and Hongjoong blinks in surprise when there’s suddenly a fork full of meat right under his nose, smiling at Seonghwa’s expectant eyes.

 

“It’s delicious, right?” Seonghwa asks as Hongjoong chews. And it is, the flavors all but melting on his tongue, but there’s something missing from the enjoyment when he knows Seonghwa isn’t the one who made it.

 

He’d never say as much, though.

 

“I wonder what they put in here,” he mutters, poking at the dish as if it would reveal its secrets.

 

“Butter and MSG, probably,” Hongjoong responds empathetically.

 

Seonghwa covers his mouth to laugh, conceding that he’s probably right, before going back to eat in peace with a small happy smile. Hongjoong feeds him some of his own order, catapulting them into a discussion about whose dish is better, and thus who has better taste. In the end, Hongjoong admits defeat (“Sorry we can’t all be third place winners from Cooking With the Stars, babe”) if only to see Seonghwa blush and stutter and smile, quietly pleased.

 

Hongjoong had almost forgotten about Seonghwa’s fidgeting, had almost relaxed fully and let himself enjoy the evening when Seonghwa shifts in his seat again, sitting up straight in his chair. He doesn’t even seem aware that he’s doing it, too focused on chasing the last bits of roasted vegetable around his plate to spear with his fork. Hongjoong trusts Seonghwa to tell him if something is wrong, but if he’s not in pain… what in the world is wrong?

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it, something stirring when Seonghwa immediately looks apologetic.

 

“I promise I am,” he rushes to assure, reaching across the table to take Hongjoong’s hand.

 

“We can go, Seonghwa, really,” Hongjoong squeezes his hand reassuringly, watching as Seonghwa’s face turns from apologetic to embarrassed.

 

“Hongjoongie, it’s really nothing, in fact h-hopefully it’ll turn out to be a good thing,” Seonghwa trails off, losing steam toward the end. Hongjoong is more lost than ever, but before he can ask questions, Seonghwa barrels on, “And besides, the least I can do is let you finish your dinner, after you wrote me a whole song,” he pouts, puppy eyes on full display. Hongjoong looks down at his plate, only half emptied of its contents, and resolves to finish as quickly as his stomach will allow, determined to get home so that he can give his dream man his dream massage.

 

“Slow down,” Seonghwa chuckles, only laughing harder when Hongjoong pulls a face and vacuums his food even faster. “Seriously, not all of us were cut out to be speed-eaters,” he presses, and Hongjoong relents. He can’t help that he was built small.

 

So even when Seonghwa relaxes, Hongjoong keeps an eye trained on him as he eats. Seonghwa’s plate is long cleared, and he happily chatters away about the song Hongjoong wrote for him for Valentine’s Day with stars in his eyes while he waits. Hongjoong can hear the affection spilling out of the words, his genuine praise and wonder making him flush.

 

And finally, when the bill has been paid and they’re on the way out, Seonghwa flashes him a sweet smile.

 

“I hope you liked dinner, my love,” he murmurs into Hongjoong’s ear. “But I hope you’ll like what I have planned for dessert just as much.” A shiver runs up Hongjoong’s spine, Seonghwa’s suggestive words and piercing eyes turning out to be a bad combination for his heartrate.

 

Fifteen minutes later finds him in the back of a cab, Seonghwa’s fingers creeping higher on his thigh while Hongjoong somehow has to pretend that doesn’t drive him absolutely crazy. He resists the urge to swat Seonghwa’s hand away, part scandalized and part excited that Seonghwa would try something so bold in a semi-public situation. Hongjoong prays to anything listening that there’s no one at the dorm when they get back, biting his knuckles as Seonghwa squeezes at the sensitive muscle.

 

When they step back out into the night air, Hongjoong is already embarrassingly half hard in his slacks, self consciously pulling his coat tighter around himself. Seonghwa has noticed, though, eyeing Hongjoong with such a predatory gaze that he kind of wants to hide.

 

Miraculously, there are no little terrors running around the dorm, the silence only eerily quiet for a seconds before Seonghwa spins around and kisses him against the door. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter where they’ve gone if Seonghwa will keep kissing him like this, lips nearly bruising in their intensity. He knows his boyfriend likes to keep track of plans, likes to know that the members are safe, so if Seonghwa’s not worried, Hongjoong supposes he shouldn’t be either.

 

They pause for a minute to toe off their shoes and hang up their coats, Hongjoong unable to resist giving Seonghwa’s ass a firm spank when he bends down to unlace his shoes. Seonghwa’s responding squeak is highly satisfying, and when he straightens up again, he sends Hongjoong a playful glare. Hongjoong only waggles his eyebrows by way of explanation, and Seonghwa huffs before pulling him into their room.

 

Hongjoong almost laughs out loud when Seonghwa shuts the door behind them, taking in the soft, romantic glow from the candles placed around the room. It’s very Seonghwa to do something classy like this for him: expensive dinner and romantic sex to finish off the evening, leaving Hongjoong feeling pampered and loved.

 

But as the lock clicks and he turns back toward his boyfriend, arousal roils hot in his gut at the look Seonghwa gives him. There’s something enchanting about Seonghwa in low light, the shadows cutting across his body making him seem downright dangerous as he stalks toward Hongjoong again. He guides Hongjoong to sit on the edge of the bed before pushing forward to straddle his lap, making himself comfortable as Hongjoong mouths at his neck.

 

When Hongjoong goes for his shirt buttons, Seonghwa shifts back to give him more space. Hongjoong has been itching to get his hands on the smooth skin, popping the top few buttons to find—

 

Lace?

 

“Oh, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong all but moans, meeting his nervous gaze.

 

“Do you like—hey,” Seonghwa gasps when Hongjoong decides to forego patience altogether and just rip the bottom four buttons off.

 

“I’ll buy you a new one, fuck,” Hongjoong growls, laying Seonghwa back onto the bed. From here, Hongjoong gets a good look at the delicate black fabric running across Seonghwa’s chest, straps criss-crossing across his ribs and running down, down disappearing below the waistband of his slacks. It turns him on to no end that this was waiting for him, that underneath that firm pressed, sharp angled suit was something delicate and pretty, waiting to be appreciated.

 

Then, a thought strikes him.

 

“Is this why you seemed uncomfortable during dinner?” Hongjoong asks lowly, groaning when Seonghwa whimpers out a meek affirmative.

 

“I-I’m not used to all the straps…” he justifies weakly, encouraging Hongjoong to push off his shirt to appreciate the beautiful lacy bralette. Hongjoong thinks he might pass out from all the blood in his body suddenly rushing to his dick, struggling to form a coherent thought in the face of Seonghwa’s tanned skin all done up in lace and ribbon. He dips down to mouth at a nipple through the sheer fabric, encouraged by Seonghwa’s moan and hand tangled in his hair. When he moves onto the other one, Seonghwa impatiently tugs at Hongjoong’s sleeve, trying to get him to remove his shirt as well.

 

So Hongjoong reluctantly detaches himself from Seonghwa’s chest, fumbling with the buttons of his own shirt. When he finally gets the cursed thing off, he looks up to find that Seonghwa has removed his slacks, and his soul promptly leaves his body.

 

Seonghwa is wearing panties, frilly black ones that match the upper body piece, the fabric straining to contain his hard dick. Hongjoong closes his eyes in order to not bust a nut immediately, but opens them again at Seonghwa’s panicked stuttering.

 

“Oh no, is it too much? I felt kind of weird p-putting them on, I can just take them off if—” Hongjoong cuts him off with a desperate kiss, palming him over the fabric.

 

“I love it, Hwa, god you look so gorgeous for me,” he murmurs, smiling when Seonghwa keens into his mouth. “How did I get so lucky, hm?” Hongjoong continues, marking his way down Seonghwa’s neck to pull at a bra strap with his teeth. Seonghwa jerks when it snaps back into place against his skin, a small moan leaving his lips. Hongjoong takes that as encouragement to continue, kissing and licking and biting his way down Seonghwa’s body until he’s at eye level with his cock. Seonghwa is somewhat of a mess, begging Hongjoong to do something, anything, so Hongjoong follows his heart and pushes aside the panties to lap enthusiastically at his ass.

 

Seonghwa cries out, burying a hand in Hongjoong’s hair. His thighs twitch and threaten to clamp shut around Hongjoong’s head, so he pulls away with a teasing lick.

 

“Hold your thighs up for me, love,” he demands, husky and low, and he sees the way Seonghwa loves being guided when he shivers and complies immediately. Hongjoong smiles, nipping at his thigh, before pressing a kiss to his cock, if for nothing else than enjoying the way it jumps under his lips.

 

“Please,” Seonghwa tries, sounding desperate, so Hongjoong relents again, licking a flat stripe up his hole, beginning to eat him out in earnest.

 

Hongjoong has a tendency to become singularly focused on things, like music production, or reforming clothes, but the way it manifests itself in their bed is a drive to appreciate Seonghwa the way he deserves to be worshipped. And by the sound of it, he’s doing a pretty good job when Seonghwa can’t seem to stop his breathy moans and whimpers, hips trying to rut back against Hongjoong’s tongue. When Hongjoong pushes his tongue inside, fucking him with short, firm thrusts, Seonghwa tenses up, moaning loudly as his thighs start to shake. So Hongjoong quickly dips a finger into his mouth, wetting it before pushing in his finger and tongue at once, searching for Seonghwa’s prostate.

 

He figures he’s found it when Seonghwa screams, coming untouched into the sheer fabric of his lingerie, Hongjoong groaning appreciatively at the sight.

 

When he comes back up, Seonghwa looks like an absolute dream, mascara running down his face in the rivulets of his tears, lipstick smudged from where Hongjoong had kissed it off him. He’s gorgeous all flushed and panting coming down from his high, sighing happily when Hongjoong connects their lips gently.

 

Hongjoong finally shimmies out of his pants, gasping as Seonghwa grips his hard length playfully. He doesn’t know what Seonghwa has in mind when he reaches for the lube, but he figures the cum cooling in Seonghwa’s panties can’t be comfortable, so he dips his fingers into the waistband to slide them off. They both cringe a little at the mess, but Seonghwa doesn’t have the chance to feel self-conscious before Hongjoong takes his softening dick into his mouth, cleaning most of the mess. Seonghwa whines and jerks, sensitive, weakly trying to pull Hongjoong off by his hair, but he resolutely stays down. He can’t resist giving a few more sweet licks before pulling off entirely, Seonghwa looking entirely wrecked now. His mascara is running again, heaving breaths pushing the lace tighter against his chest, making Hongjoong want to ruin him again and again.

 

“I d-don’t think I can take much of that,” he sniffles, and Hongjoong runs a gentle hand through his hair to soothe him.

 

“That’s okay, you did so well for me,” he coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks and forehead. Seonghwa flushes happily at the praise, sighing and turning onto his side. He tugs Hongjoong down to spoon behind him, rocking his hips back encouragingly.

 

“Take me like this,” he breathes, reaching back and fitting Hongjoong’s hard length between his thighs. Hongjoong curses, grabbing the lube to liberally coat his dick and the soft skin of Seonghwa’s upper thighs.

 

His first tentative thrust has them both groaning, the slippery skin feeling like heaven despite having to adjust themselves a little to perfect the angle. Hongjoong does his best to direct his moans and gasps right into Seonghwa’s ear, satisfied when Seonghwa reacts beautifully, arching his back to press his head back more firmly against Hongjoong’s shoulder. He’s already getting hard again, the indirect stimulation proving to be just right to rile him up again.

 

“Stay still for me, fuck you’re so beautiful Hwa, so good,” Hongjoong gasps, gripping his hip to fuck his thighs harder. He doesn’t miss the way the praise makes Seonghwa’s cock twitch, thighs squeezing him tighter.

 

“Wanted to—for you—wanted to wear something nice, look pretty,” Seonghwa moans, sounding half delirious as Hongjoong takes his length with a lube covered hand, pumping him in time with his thrusts.

 

“You’re always pretty, always so stunning,” Hongjoong rambles earnestly, lost in the heat of Seonghwa’s thighs, chasing his high.

 

“Love, I love you,” Seonghwa all but sobs, caught between sensitivity and pleasure. “B-But I wanted you to use me however you liked,” he admits, words catching in his throat. “Wanted to be y-your personal toy,” he says, cheeks flaming.

 

Hongjoong groans, speeding up his thrusts and his hand, determined to show Seonghwa how good he’s been. He sucks a mark into the space between Seonghwa’s shoulder and neck, biting down harshly as he feels his arousal threatening to boil over. But he wants Seonghwa to come first, wants to see him come undone under his hands, so he leans up to growl into his ear.

 

“I’d have you like this all the time if I could, would you like that? All dressed up, just a pretty thing for me to fuck?”

 

“Shit—Hong—” Seonghwa writhes in his arms, coming all over his abdomen with a loud cry. And Hongjoong isn’t far behind with Seonghwa moaning so prettily for him, only managing a few more thrusts before spilling over the front of Seonghwa’s thighs with a curse muffled into his shoulder.

 

Everything is still for a minute, nothing but their labored breaths sounding out in the room, Hongjoong still holding Seonghwa close against his front.

 

“Are you okay?” he whispers after a moment, laughing when Seonghwa gives something like a wheeze in response.

 

They take a moment to relax, slowly coming back to earth. Hongjoong turns Seonghwa onto his back, the latter puckering his lips to ask for a kiss. Hongjoong smiles, indulging him, taking his time to lazily explore Seonghwa’s mouth while the feeling of warmth and love balloons inside his chest. When he breaks away, Seonghwa chases his lips, whining a little when Hongjoong pecks his nose instead.

 

“So that was really nice, but at the restaurant I was promised dessert,” Hongjoong deadpans, teasing Seonghwa for his choice of words earlier that night.

 

“Oh, right,” Seonghwa responds after a beat. “There’s a huge chocolate cake in the fridge, um, if you’re into that,” he says, and Hongjoong, well.

 

Hongjoong is floored. How can such a perfect man exist? What country did he save in his past life to be blessed with all this? He was being completely and utterly sarcastic, but he should have expected Seonghwa to cover all the bases, hopeless romantic that he is.

 

“I can’t believe you,” Hongjoong says, straddling Seonghwa’s waist and pulling him into a hot, open mouthed kiss. He’s about to go for round three, considering sucking Seonghwa’s soul out through his dick when the front door bangs open, loud voices bouncing off the walls and ruining the atmosphere.

 

“SEONGHWA-HYUNG,” San’s loud voice booms through the dorm. “OUR TIME CAN ONLY BE BOUGHT FOR SO LON—ouch,” he cuts off, indistinct conversation taking its place.

 

“Sorry about him!” That’s Yunho, dragging San through the hall to their room. “Hope you enjoyed your night,” he says suggestively, and Hongjoong can perfectly picture his shit eating grin and eyebrow waggle.

 

“Who’s being horrible now?” Comes Yeosang’s voice, their wonderful member of reason.

 

“Hyung didn’t make me light those candles to not be horrible,” he fires back, the chatter continuing until their door shuts.

 

“So,” Seonghwa begins, apparently not planning on finishing that sentence because the moment he makes eye contact with Hongjoong, he bursts into giggles. His laughter is infectious, Hongjoong joining in after a beat.

 

“You paid off the kids?” Hongjoong asks incredulously, wondering if he’ll ever stop finding new ways to love this man.

 

“Umm… Surprise?” Seonghwa asks with lazy jazz hands, flopping them back down onto the bed a moment later.

 

“I love you,” Hongjoong says. He doesn’t think Seonghwa will ever know just how much.

 

“I love you, too,” Seonghwa responds with soft eyes, grinning up at him. “Now, if you could kindly get me a rag, I don’t think I can walk yet and all of our cum is on me,” he pouts. Hongjoong laughs, acquiescing and shoving his legs into some sweatpants.

 

He presses one last kiss to Seonghwa’s forehead, padding out to the bathroom and pointedly ignoring the members’ playful jeering. He gets two glasses of water on the way back, making sure nobody else is in the hallway before pushing the door open, kicking it closed behind him.

 

And later, when they’re cleaned up and hydrated, they split a large slice of cake sitting huddled at the dining room table, wrapped up in each other.

Notes:

sorry i kinda lost sight of the food theme?? but i had no control over them ashdfg

and thank you again for reading ;u; even tho i abandoned the shit out of it this work will always have a special place in my heart, so i really hope you enjoyed!!

if you want to be my friend (please be my friend) im on twitter @calamiteez!!! and if you liked, please comment to let me know (my personal favorite part was dick mistletoe)