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Sungchan likes to be teased.
Eunseok likes to tease him.
It’s a pretty good set-up, all things considered: when Sungchan starts to feel that familiar tension building up under his skin, he goes to Eunseok and Eunseok wrings it out of him like a particularly violent masseur. If the massage in question happens to involve his cock and balls, that’s neither here nor there.
It’s a good system. Sungchan likes their system.
But even so, sometimes he feels more like this instead. Like he wants to be held rather than held down; pulled encouragingly towards the edge by a warm, slightly sweaty hand instead of being pushed right over it all at once. He’s still learning how to ask for it.
A fact that he’s reminded of as he lingers in front of Eunseok’s closed bedroom door. He’s rocking on his feet a little on the creaky floorboards, back and forth, trying to work up the courage to ask his long-time best friend to jack him off, but like he loves him. It’s kind of crass, but it’s also Eunseok, and he’s never beaten around the bush with his words. Wouldn’t want Sungchan to, either. (He’s tried acting coy before, sexy and alluring and seducing Eunseok with barely-there touches to his exposed skin, leaving trails of want behind to seep in through his pores. Eunseok had just stared at him blankly until he begged to please let him hit.)
He shakes his head. It’s just Eunseok. It’s just Eunseok. So he knocks, once, twice, and swings open the door.
Eunseok is at his desk, playing some game Sungchan doesn’t recognise with an intensity that he does. Not ideal, but it’s no biggie. He can work with this.
The first port of call is to gather Eunseok’s attention. He’s razor-focused on his PC, slamming the mouse around on the desk with his right hand and deftly spamming the WASD keys with his left. Occasionally he brings both hands to the keyboard to type with a speed and ferocity that does unspeakable things to Sungchan’s gut. Unspeakable mostly because Eunseok’s ego would be even more unbearable if he knew, so Sungchan has long resigned himself to take these particular perversions to his grave. And look at that—Eunseok’s character has just died. Perfect. “Eunseok.”
Except Eunseok is apparently pissed that he died, because he barely tosses Sungchan a glance before he’s speed-typing again and rapping his fingertips impatiently against the desk as he waits to be revived. The furrow between his brows paired with the easy dismissal of his presence only feeds into the uncomfortable feeling still clinging to the inside of Sungchan’s skin, but it’s fine. He’s used to this. “Eunseok-ah?”
“This is the last boss, Sungchan. What is it?” Logically, Sungchan knows he’s not annoyed—not really. It still makes him gnaw on the inside of his lip just a little.
“It can wait.”
He wanders over to the edge of Eunseok’s bed and sits. This is familiar, too; pulling his legs up to his chin on top of Eunseok’s covers while he waits for Eunseok to finish up with whatever game he’s playing. Usually the lull goes straight to his groin, the anticipation making his thoughts run wild with all the things Eunseok could do to him. Today, though, he just feels small. Eunseok’s computer screen is too far away for him to watch him play, the pixels blurring together into an unsightly blob.
He lets his eyes wander away from Eunseok’s tense figure where he’s started moving his mouse again and letting out frustrated little breaths as he does it. He doesn’t have a lot of decorations in his room, a self-proclaimed man of few possessions, but you can find those few littered about if you know where to look. A polaroid picture of the seven of them at Everland, all adorning ridiculous headwear. A colourful sketch of questionable subject drawn by Eunseok’s little brother. The headband from Everland, propped up against a basketball on the shelf. Sungchan remembers questioning his choice at the time—the rest of them had gone for a character that represented or resembled them, and yet Eunseok had chosen a frog. Eunseok had simply shrugged at him; frogs are cute.
He must zone out for a while because then Eunseok is spinning around in his chair, menu screen popping out against the blur like a beacon of shining light. Sungchan feels himself perk up a little, and Eunseok huffs out a low breath of amusement. Or condescension. It’s hard to tell. “So. What do you want?”
All that time spent idling outside and inside Eunseok’s room did nothing to help him gather his thoughts. “Uh.” He doesn’t elaborate.
“That’s it? I paused my game for you, man.” Eunseok starts to swivel back around, the light of the monitor threatening to swallow him back into a shadowy silhouette.
“Wait—!” Sungchan lowers his legs back onto the ground, feet landing on the carpet with a muffled thump. Distantly, he can feel his eyes bulge out of his head a little, but he’s right to feel panicked. Eunseok can’t just leave him like this!
Eunseok is laughing at him again, but it’s okay because he’s coming closer this time. Coming closer to sit beside Sungchan on the bed. Leaning into his space and grabbing at his crotch where he’s half-hard and tenting his sweats to make him yelp. “Really? You need me for this? Can’t do it yourself like a big boy?” Sungchan feels his throat bob at the attention, cheeks turning pink in the heat of Eunseok’s proximity.
And he could—he could have jerked himself off, alone in his room with his own fist between his teeth to mask the sounds he’s never been able to hold back, collapsing afterwards into his cold, lonely sheets. But he has a boyfriend. A smoking-hot boyfriend who loves him, despite everything. Why shouldn’t he take advantage of that?
“Can’t I want to spend time with my boyfriend?” he croaks out. His voice is a little shaky now, with Eunseok’s warm, warm hand still holding him through his sweatpants. He swallows again, knowing it will do nothing to steady it, and Eunseok’s all-seeing eyes track the movement.
“What, twelve hours a day isn’t enough for you? You’re needy.” His words are mean but his tone betrays soft feelings that don’t need to be spoken out loud. Not between the two of them. Sungchan feels Eunseok’s emotions like they flow through his arteries and veins. Seunghan once said he ate so much bibimmyeon that the sauce made up half of his blood—and, well. Sungchan has had Eunseok in his mouth more times than he could count.
Eunseok releases him from his grip but he barely gets a second to bask in the relief before Eunseok is nodding over to his headboard and Sungchan is scrambling to comply. Eunseok laughs at him again but it’s gentle, like the way he laughs at the videos of Charlie his parents send him. He’s evidently in a good mood today, indulgent—Sungchan tries not to let the excitement show on his face too much. It’s a fruitless endeavour.
He’s barely settled against the headboard before Eunseok is clambering into his lap warm and heavy, the lean lines of his thighs spread wide on either side of Sungchan’s thicker ones. His knees press into Sungchan’s sides like needles, pinning him down so he can reach right inside the cavity of Sungchan’s chest and poke at his heart. Sungchan would be okay with that—it’s already his, anyway.
Eunseok leans forward and brings his hands up to rest on Sungchan’s sternum, not pressing or piercing, just feeling the heat of him. Sungchan shivers.
“What do you want?” he asks again. He’s probably expecting Sungchan to ask him to blow him, or fuck him, or ride him. To dangle his release right between his eyes just to pull back and laugh when he leaps to try grab for it, taunting and a little mean like his idol persona.
Now, with his hair dyed back to black, he looks less like idol Eunseok and more like the Eunseok who Sungchan had met just after he joined the company. The Eunseok who he’d kissed for the first time in the dead of night on the floor of some practise room, mirrors fogged up with the heat and humidity of their breath and the tension between them. “Kiss me?”
Sungchan loves kissing Eunseok. Loves the way he nips at his bottom lip, loves the way he sighs against his mouth, loves the way he pushes his tongue past Sungchan’s lips to make him moan. Eunseok can be a tease when he wants to be (which is, honestly speaking, most of the time), but he always kisses Sungchan like he loves him.
He can feel it now in the way Eunseok’s (small, tiny, delicate) hands curl into the collar of his shirt and against the base of his neck, mouth pressing against his own more firmly as he shifts his hips forward to slowly grind their cocks together. He’s half-hard now, and Sungchan is aching where he’s straining through his underwear. Eunseok leans back to tug Sungchan’s shirt off and snickers when he cranes his neck out to follow his lips.
“God, you’re so cute sometimes,” he says before he’s chasing the words into the back of Sungchan’s mouth like he can pull them out again with his tongue. Sungchan would let him. He feels so good like this, Eunseok’s tongue in his mouth and weight in his lap and clammy hands trailing down his chest to squeeze at his pecs. He whines hoarsely in a voice he doesn’t recognise when Eunseok kneads at his nipples, pulling and pinching before he soothes back over them with the flats of his thumbs.
“Eunseok.”
Eunseok doesn’t reply, just stares at him with those big, black eyes like the lenses of a microscope reflecting Sungchan’s own pleading face back at him, and pulls the hem of his waistband down just enough to get a hand wrapped around his cock. Most of the way around his cock, at least—there’s only about a centimetre or so of Sungchan separating Eunseok’s fingertips from his thumb, but it’s enough to make both of them groan at the image. Eunseok starts moving his hand; up to smear precum across the tip and down to hold the weight of him in the crevice between his thumb and index finger, squeezing and stroking and tugging his foreskin in a way that has Sungchan throwing his head back against the wall with a dull thunk. Eunseok takes the opportunity to kiss him right over the pulsing vein in his neck, sharp and soft and scathing as his tongue traces the hot line of it up to his jaw. The saliva clings to him like a second skin.
“Eunseok—”
“Yeah? That feel good, baby?”
Eunseok has started grinding against his thighs again, moaning out every time Sungchan jolts upwards in an uncontrollable buck of his hips. Sungchan wants to reach out and pull him out of his sweats so he can watch the tip of his cock trail precum across his clothed thighs, but his arms feel heavy and waterlogged. He settles for digging his hands into Eunseok’s legs and watching the flush trickle down his neck, imagining the cute red blush that blooms out from the head of his dick.
“Fuck—doing so good, Sungchan, so good for me,” Eunseok moans out when Sungchan pulls his thighs down harder into his own. They’re tensing where they’re spread out on top of him, reminding Sungchan of when they were trainees lining up in between practices to leapfrog over each other. Eunseok had landed right on top of him once, knees digging into his sides as he clung to his back. His knees are still sharp against Sungchan’s waist, but now he’s moaning rare, breathless praise into Sungchan’s mouth in an endless stream that makes him dizzy. “You’re so wet.”
Sungchan knows, can feel it dripping down his shaft and splattering over his abdomen, but he still follows Eunseok’s gaze down. He’s flushed and swollen at the tip, shiny with precum that flies out from under Eunseok’s thumb when he strokes across his slit. “Eunseok—Eunseok—”
“Close? You gonna cum for me? Yeah, that’s it—good boy—” Sungchan chokes out a gasp against Eunseok’s lips when he surges forward to kiss him again, swallowing the noise down deep into his stomach before he’s spitting out a groan of his own, hips stuttering to a slow, lazy grind in Sungchan’s lap. They pant into each other’s mouths for a while as Eunseok keeps stroking up and down, up and down, wringing every last drop of cum out of his body until he reaches a weak hand up to bat him away. He can’t tell who initiates it but their hands lace together and drop into the warm sheets by their sides, Sungchan’s cum webbing between their fingers in a way that’s disgusting but not nearly enough for either of them to care.
Eunseok’s other hand comes up to trace through the sweat that has settled dewily in the quivering valley of his abs, along the dip of his ribcage, and then he’s stooping down to lick at a string of Sungchan’s cum that had landed on the underside of his pec. He sucks the skin into his mouth for just a moment, his tongue insistent like he’s trying to coax more cum directly from his pores. Sungchan shudders, sensitive, clutching at the small of Eunseok’s back with the hand that isn’t still grasped in his. “You really need to eat more fruit,” Eunseok says with a grimace.
But there’s sweat beading across his hairline and his eyes are blown wide and satiated, lips curling up into a predatory smile against Sungchan’s when he kisses him again, cum on his tongue and all. Sungchan barely gets to kiss him back before Eunseok is throwing himself sideways onto the bed, pulling a startled Sungchan with him by their interwoven bodies. Sungchan’s head ends up pulled into the crevice of Eunseok’s shoulder, warm and pulsing and smelling vaguely of sweat when Sungchan closes his eyes and breathes him deep into his lungs. If he tries hard enough he can almost feel the oxygen being carried through his bloodstream, Eunseok circulating through his body and keeping him alive. Eunseok rests his hand against Sungchan’s chest, the other coming up to tousle his hair and smooth it back down afterwards. It tugs at his scalp just a little, the strands tangling through Eunseok’s fingers stickily.
“Did you just get cum in my hair?”
Eunseok just hums and pulls Sungchan’s head against him more firmly. Sungchan wants to absorb every inch of him through his skin. He empties his weighted lungs into the warm dampness of his neck; Eunseok. Eunseok leans down to press a kiss against his hair.
“Seriously, dude. More fruit.”