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The couch creaked under their weight, a low groan of springs drowned out by the sound of Jihoon’s breath hitching, sharp and uneven. His head was thrown back against the cushions, dark hair fanning out in a sweaty mess, strands clinging to his temples. His lips parted, a desperate, “Hyunwook— more ,” spilling out, raw and needy, the kind of plea that hit Hyunwook like a punch to the gut.
Hyunwook’s hands were braced on Jihoon’s hips, fingers digging into the soft give of skin as he moved, slow and relentless, every thrust calculated to pull another sound from Jihoon’s throat. The air was thick—humid with sweat, the faint tang of fried chicken still lingering from the takeout boxes abandoned on the counter. Jihoon’s hoodie lay crumpled on the floor beside them, shed somewhere between the kitchen and here, leaving him bare, flushed, and trembling beneath Hyunwook’s gaze.
“More?” Hyunwook teased, voice a low rasp as he leaned in, lips brushing the curve of Jihoon’s jaw. He could feel the heat radiating off him, the way Jihoon’s chest heaved with every shallow breath. “You’re falling apart already, hyung.”
Jihoon’s hands clawed at his shoulders, nails scraping red lines into Hyunwook’s skin as he arched up, chasing the friction. “Fuck you,” he gasped, but it came out shaky, undercut by a moan as Hyunwook shifted his angle, hitting just right. His thighs tensed, muscles flexing under Hyunwook’s palms, and his eyes—half-lidded, glassy—locked onto Hyunwook’s with a mix of defiance and surrender.
It’d started hours ago, innocent enough. Hyunwook had missed him—weeks of Jihoon buried in filming, no time for their usual late-night calls or dumb bets over who’d win in a sparring match. So he’d shown up outside the set, leaning against his car with a bag of takeout, smirking as Jihoon trudged out, exhausted but grinning. “Dinner,” Hyunwook had said, tossing him a soda, but the way Jihoon’s tired eyes softened had unraveled something in him.
Dinner turned into Jihoon sprawled on Hyunwook’s couch, picking at chicken wings and tossing barbs—“What, you couldn’t last a month without me?”—until Hyunwook had yanked the plate away and pulled him in, lips crashing together in a kiss that tasted like soy sauce and pent-up want. Clothes came off in a blur—Jihoon’s hoodie first, then Hyunwook’s shirt, a tangle of limbs and laughter until it wasn’t funny anymore, just desperate.
Now, Hyunwook’s mouth trailed lower, teeth grazing the hollow of Jihoon’s collarbone, tasting salt and the faint bitterness of cologne. Jihoon shuddered beneath him, one hand sliding up to grip Hyunwook’s hair, tugging hard enough to sting. “You’re such a dick,” he muttered, but his hips rolled up to meet Hyunwook’s, needy and shameless, contradicting every word.
Hyunwook chuckled, the sound vibrating against Jihoon’s skin as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his chest, right over his racing heartbeat. “You love it.” He dragged his hands up Jihoon’s sides, thumbs brushing the ridges of his ribs, feeling the way his body tensed and relaxed in waves. Jihoon’s skin was fever-hot, slick with sweat, and Hyunwook couldn’t get enough of it—the way he moved, the way he sounded , all sharp edges softened by want.
Every thrust sent a jolt through Jihoon, a white-hot spark that started deep in his core and radiated outward, making his toes curl against the couch. It was too much and not enough all at once—Hyunwook’s hands, his mouth, the relentless rhythm driving him to the edge. Jihoon’s mind was a haze, thoughts scattered like ash, leaving only the raw, pulsing need that consumed him. He felt split open, vulnerable in a way that should’ve scared him but didn’t—not with Hyunwook, not when every touch felt like worship, every thrust a promise.
“Please,” Jihoon breathed, quieter this time, almost a whine, and it snapped something in Hyunwook. He picked up the pace, hands sliding under Jihoon’s thighs to lift him higher, deeper, until Jihoon’s moans turned incoherent—broken syllables and gasps, his grip tightening in Hyunwook’s hair. The tension coiled tighter, a wire ready to snap, and Jihoon felt it building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to drown him. His body trembled, every nerve alight, and when he came undone, it was with a shuddering cry, his whole body locking up as he spilled between them, hot and messy, the release so intense it left him gasping, vision blurring at the edges.
Hyunwook wasn’t far behind, the sight of Jihoon—wrecked, panting, clinging to him—pushing him over the edge. He buried his face in Jihoon’s neck, groaning low as the release hit, sharp and blinding, leaving him dizzy and boneless.
They collapsed together, a sweaty heap on the couch, chests heaving in sync. Jihoon’s hand lingered in Hyunwook’s hair, fingers threading through it lazily, just holding on. “You’re heavy,” he mumbled after a minute, shoving weakly at Hyunwook’s shoulder.
Hyunwook rolled off with a laugh, sprawling beside him. “You’re welcome.” He stretched out, arms above his head, still catching his breath as the afterglow settled in. Jihoon sat up slightly, propped on an elbow, looking gloriously disheveled—hair wild, lips swollen, a faint red mark blooming where Hyunwook’s teeth had been.
“Kidnapping me for this,” Jihoon said, smirking as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Ridiculous.”
“Worked, didn’t it?” Hyunwook shot back, sitting up too. He leaned back on his hands, glancing at Jihoon sidelong. “You’re going to the wedding tomorrow, right?”
Jihoon blinked, then nodded, flopping back onto the cushions with a groan. “Yeah, he invited me ages ago. Why?”
“Let’s go together, then,” Hyunwook said, casual but with a spark in his eyes. “No point showing up separately.”
Jihoon squinted at him, then smirked. “Fine, but I don’t have shit to wear, thanks to you. You dragged me here straight from set—didn’t exactly pack a tux.”
Hyunwook shrugged, unfazed. “Wear whatever. It’s Sumin—he won’t care if you roll in looking like you just crawled out of a fight.”
Jihoon snorted, gesturing vaguely toward the bedroom. “Whatever. I’m stealing something of yours.”
Hyunwook’s gaze slid over him—still naked, skin flushed and marked, lounging like he owned the place. “You look better without anything, anyway,” he said, voice dropping as he shifted closer. He dipped his head, lips brushing Jihoon’s neck, slow and deliberate, tracing the line of his pulse.
Jihoon tilted his head back, baring his throat with a soft exhale, but he couldn’t resist a jab. “You’re so full of it. Can’t even compliment me properly.” His tone was sharp, teasing, but the way his breath hitched—shy, flustered—gave him away.
Hyunwook’s hands found Jihoon’s waist, pulling him in until their chests brushed. “Missed you so much, hyung,” he murmured against his skin, raw and honest, the words slipping out between kisses. His lips moved lower, sucking lightly at the base of Jihoon’s throat, coaxing a shiver out of him.
Jihoon’s hands fisted in the cushions, then slid up Hyunwook’s back, nails dragging lightly. “Round two already?” he said, voice rough but laced with a smirk. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Says the guy who was begging just now,” Hyunwook fired back, but he was already moving, pushing Jihoon back down onto the couch. This time, he took it slow—hands roaming, mapping every inch of Jihoon’s body like he was memorizing it. He traced the curve of Jihoon’s hip, fingers dipping into the hollow where muscle met bone, then slid lower, brushing the inside of his thigh until Jihoon squirmed, a low curse slipping out.
“Hyunwook—” Jihoon’s voice was tighter now, edged with want as Hyunwook’s hand wrapped around him, stroking slow and firm, drawing out a shaky moan. Hyunwook watched him—watched the way his lips parted, the way his brows knit together, the way his chest stuttered with every breath.
Jihoon felt like he was unraveling all over again, the pleasure building in slow, torturous waves. Hyunwook’s hand was relentless, each stroke sending sparks up his spine, making his thighs tremble and his breath come in ragged gasps. It was overwhelming—too good, too much—his body still sensitive from the first round, every touch amplified. He felt slutty, shameless, the way he arched into Hyunwook’s hand, hips bucking without a care, chasing that high like it was the only thing that mattered. His mind was a mess of sensation—heat, pressure, the slick sound of Hyunwook’s hand moving, the low growl in Hyunwook’s throat as he watched him fall apart.
“Like that?” Hyunwook asked, leaning down to kiss him, swallowing the next sound Jihoon made. It was messy, tongues sliding together, teeth catching on lips, and Jihoon’s hands were everywhere—gripping Hyunwook’s shoulders, his hair, pulling him closer like he couldn’t stand the space between them.
Jihoon broke the kiss with a gasp, head tipping back as Hyunwook’s hand sped up, relentless now. “Fuck—don’t stop,” he panted, hips bucking into the touch, shameless and desperate. Hyunwook’s other hand slid beneath him, lifting him slightly, fingers pressing into the small of his back as he worked him over, every stroke deliberate, every touch meant to unravel him.
Jihoon was close—so close—his body tensing, the pleasure coiling tight in his gut, ready to snap. But Hyunwook had other plans. Just as Jihoon’s moans turned frantic, his breath hitching on the edge of release, Hyunwook pulled his hand away, leaving Jihoon gasping, hips jerking into nothing. “Not yet,” Hyunwook murmured, voice dark, a wicked edge to it as he shifted, positioning himself between Jihoon’s legs again.
“Hyunwook, you bastard—” Jihoon’s protest cut off with a choked moan as Hyunwook pushed into him, slow and deep, filling him in one smooth thrust. The stretch burned, a delicious ache that made Jihoon’s head spin, his hands scrabbling at the cushions for something to hold onto. Hyunwook didn’t give him time to adjust, setting a brutal pace—hard, fast, each thrust driving deeper, hitting that spot that made Jihoon see stars.
Jihoon’s moans turned into cries, loud and unrestrained, his body rocking with every movement. He felt filthy, spread out on the couch, legs hooked over Hyunwook’s shoulders, taking it like he was made for it. The pleasure was raw, all-consuming, a fire that burned through every nerve, leaving him trembling and incoherent. “Fuck—Hyunwook— please ,” he begged, voice wrecked, not even sure what he was begging for anymore, just needing more, needing everything.
Hyunwook’s hands gripped his hips, pulling him into each thrust, his own breath coming in sharp pants. “Look at you,” he growled, eyes dark with hunger as he watched Jihoon fall apart beneath him. “So fucking desperate for it.” He leaned down, capturing Jihoon’s lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing his cries as he fucked him harder, the couch creaking louder under the force of it.
Jihoon’s hands found Hyunwook’s back, nails raking down his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. He was a mess—sweat-slick, flushed from head to toe, his body trembling on the edge of release again. The pleasure was too much, a tidal wave crashing over him, and when Hyunwook reached between them, wrapping a hand around him again, stroking in time with his thrusts, Jihoon broke.
He came with a scream, his whole body seizing up, the release hitting him like a freight train—hot, messy, spilling over Hyunwook’s hand and his own stomach, his vision whiting out as the pleasure ripped through him. Hyunwook followed right after, a low groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep, riding out his own release with a few more shaky thrusts.
They collapsed again, a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Jihoon’s chest heaved, his body still trembling with aftershocks, every inch of him buzzing with the aftermath. He felt raw, exposed, but so deeply satisfied, the kind of pleasure that settled into his bones, leaving him boneless and sated.
“Asshole,” Jihoon muttered after a long moment, voice hoarse, but he was smiling, dazed and fucked-out, one arm flung over his eyes. Hyunwook laughed, collapsing beside him, their legs tangled together on the too-small couch.
“You loved it,” Hyunwook said, voice rough but warm, pressing a lazy kiss to Jihoon’s shoulder.
Jihoon didn’t argue, just let out a soft hum, too blissed out to care.
—-
The next morning hit like a freight train. Hyunwook jolted awake to sunlight stabbing through the blinds, the clock glaring 11:53 a.m. The wedding starting in seven minutes.
Shit .
“Hyung!” He shook the lump of blankets beside him, getting a muffled groan in response. “We’re late—get up!”
Jihoon didn’t budge, face buried in the pillow. “Fuck off,” he slurred, voice wrecked from exhaustion—filming all day yesterday, then last night’s marathon. Hyunwook yanked the sheets off, ignoring the indignant yelp as Jihoon flailed, finally sitting up.
He looked like hell—hair a bird’s nest, eyes half-open, every muscle screaming as he dragged himself upright. With a low groan, he swung his legs over the bed’s edge, wincing as the ache settled in deep—his thighs, his lower back, every inch of him protesting from the night before. “Shit,” he muttered, rubbing at his hip like that’d make it better. “You broke me.”
Hyunwook, already halfway into a dress shirt, smirked but didn’t stop moving. “You’ll live. Hurry up. We’re late.”
Jihoon shot him a bleary glare, reaching for his hoodie on the floor with a hiss of discomfort. He pulled it over his head, the stretch tugging at sore muscles, and cursed under his breath as he fumbled with the zipper, fingers clumsy. “This is your fault,” he grumbled, gingerly easing his jeans up over his legs, every movement stiff and deliberate, like he was piecing himself back together.
“Yeah, yeah,” Hyunwook said, tossing his tie around his neck without bothering to knot it yet. “Complain later—we’re fucked for time.” He grabbed his keys, then paused, watching Jihoon hobble to his feet, the hoodie swallowing his frame, jeans barely buttoned.
“You’re wearing that ?” Hyunwook asked, one brow arched as he shrugged on a jacket.
“You said whatever. This is whatever,” Jihoon snapped, tugging the hood up with a wince, his smirk half-hearted through the soreness. “Good thing Korean weddings don’t give a shit.” He shuffled toward the door, each step a little unsteady, leaning on the wall for a second to catch his breath.
Hyunwook snorted, snagging Jihoon’s elbow to haul him along. “Let’s go, mister disaster. You can limp in the car.”
They stumbled out the door ten minutes later, a chaotic mess of half-tied shoes and Jihoon’s muttered swears, the clock ticking down as they raced to make it—barely.
—-
The car screeched to a halt in the venue’s parking lot, 12:17 p.m. flashing on the dashboard. Hyunwook shoved the door open, hauling Jihoon out as they hurried toward the wedding hall. The building was sleek, with glass doors and a crowd of guests gathered outside—suits, dresses, the occasional hanbok, all waiting for the ceremony to start.
They were late, but not too late. Yet.
Hyunwook tugged Jihoon toward a quieter spot off to the side, near a cluster of tall, leafy trees that shielded them from the main crowd. Jihoon stood beside him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized hoodie, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. The hoodie was dark, zipped halfway over a grey t-shirt, his jeans wrinkled, sneakers scuffed. Hyunwook, in his rumpled dress shirt and loose tie, wasn’t much better, but he’d at least tried.
“Hold still,” Hyunwook said, pulling out his phone and flipping it to video mode. He angled it for a selfie, the camera capturing both of them against the backdrop of greenery—him in the foreground, Jihoon just behind, his hood up and hair peeking out messily. Jihoon’s eyes flicked to the camera, then to Hyunwook, his expression shifting from mild confusion to a half-hearted scowl, lips pursed in that pouty way that always made Hyunwook laugh.
Hyunwook chuckled, watching Jihoon’s face through the screen. “Cute,” he said, voice low, a teasing edge to it as he lowered the phone. He glanced around quickly—guests chatting, no one paying attention—then leaned in, swift and reckless, pressing his lips to Jihoon’s. It was quick, soft, just enough to catch the warmth of Jihoon’s mouth, the faint taste of mint from the gum he’d been chewing in the car.
Jihoon pulled back, smacking Hyunwook’s chest with a light fist, eyes wide. “Are you insane?” he hissed, darting a look at the crowd. “Someone could’ve seen that!” His tone was sharp, but his pout stayed, betraying the annoyance he was trying to play up.
Hyunwook grinned, rubbing his chest where Jihoon had hit him. “Relax, no one’s looking.” He tucked his phone away, still buzzing from the little kiss, when a voice broke through their moment.
“Jihoon-hyung!” Minyoung called, striding over with a wide grin, his energy as loud as his voice. He had a smile plastered on his face that was a little too friendly for Hyunwook’s liking. “You made it! I thought you’d bail after filming yesterday.”
Jihoon turned, managing a tired smirk. “Yeah, barely. Blame this guy.” He jerked a thumb at Hyunwook, who narrowed his eyes slightly as Minyoung laughed, clapping Jihoon on the shoulder a bit too enthusiastically.
“You look good, hyung,” Minyoung said, his tone warm, hand lingering on Jihoon’s arm as he gave the hoodie a playful tug. “Rocking the casual vibe, huh?”
Hyunwook’s jaw tightened, a flicker of jealousy sparking in his chest. He cleared his throat, louder than necessary. “Yeah, he’s a real trendsetter. Watch everyone start wearing hoodies to weddings after this,” he said, stepping closer to Jihoon, his arm brushing against him—subtle, but enough to stake a claim Minyoung wouldn’t notice but Jihoon definitely would.
Jihoon shot him a sidelong glance, one brow twitching, but didn’t pull away. “Let’s just get inside,” he muttered, leading the way toward the hall.
The venue was packed—round tables draped in white, floral centerpieces, a low hum of chatter as guests settled in. Their reserved table was near the front, a perk of being Sumin’s co-leads. Minyoung trailed behind, still talking Jihoon’s ear off about some on-set story from Weak Hero Class 2, his hand hovering near Jihoon’s elbow. Hyunwook’s patience wore thin as they reached the chairs.
Minyoung reached for the seat next to Jihoon just as Hyunwook slid in, snagging it with a quick tug and a tight smile. “Sorry, got it,” he said, not sorry at all, settling in close enough that his knee brushed Jihoon’s under the table.
Minyoung blinked, then laughed, taking the next chair over without a fuss. Jihoon turned to Hyunwook, his look a mix of exasperation and amusement— really? —but he didn’t say a word, just leaned back in his seat, hoodie slumping around him.
The ceremony kicked off soon after, Sumin and his bride up front, all vows and soft lighting. Hyunwook pulled his phone out, snapping pics of the couple—Sumin in a sharp suit, grinning like an idiot, his wife radiant in white. Jihoon watched too, but he wasn’t quiet—his face lit up with a genuine, beaming smile, eyes crinkling as he clapped softly when Sumin stumbled over his vows, a quiet laugh escaping him. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, completely caught up in the moment, whispering to Hyunwook, “They’re so good together, huh?”
Hyunwook’s chest tightened, a warm ache spreading as he watched Jihoon. The way he looked—underdressed in that oversized hoodie, hair a mess, but so pretty, so effortlessly bright—tugged at something deep in Hyunwook’s heart. Jihoon’s happiness was infectious, his smile wide and unguarded, and Hyunwook couldn’t look away.
“Could be us,” Hyunwook murmured back, leaning in so only Jihoon could hear, his voice low and teasing, eyes still on the couple.
Jihoon’s hand shot out, smacking Hyunwook’s knee under the table with a muffled thwap .
“Shut up,” he hissed, rolling his eyes, but his smile didn’t fade—if anything, it grew, a little shy, a little flustered, as he turned back to the vows. His hood slipped back slightly, showing the messy hair underneath, and Hyunwook thought he’d never seen him more beautiful.
The day rolled on—speeches, toasts, a blur of food and laughter. Minyoung eventually got distracted by another castmate, leaving Jihoon to slump against Hyunwook’s shoulder during the slower moments, still smiling softly. And when it was over, the couple waving off the guests, Hyunwook slipped an arm around Jihoon’s waist as they headed out, the video still tucked in his phone, a little piece of this mess they’d keep.
As they walked into the late afternoon sun, Jihoon’s laughter echoing beside him, they passed a dessert table set up outside the venue, a last treat for the guests. Jihoon’s eyes lit up, and before Hyunwook could stop him, he darted over, snatching a piece of tteok from the spread and popping it into his mouth with a grin.
“You’re not even gonna offer me some?” Hyunwook asked, raising a brow as he caught up.
Jihoon turned, cheeks puffed out from chewing, and smirked. “Get your own,” he teased, but then he broke off a piece and held it out, pressing it to Hyunwook’s lips with a playful glint in his eyes.
“Why, thank you.” Hyunwook rolled his eyes but took the bite, the sweet rice cake melting on his tongue as Jihoon’s fingers brushed his lips, sending a small spark through him.
Hyunwook’s mind drifted back to his earlier words as they kept walking, Jihoon’s laughter still ringing in his ears, happy and light.
Maybe, he thought. Just maybe, he actually meant it.
He wished it could be them being at the end of the aisle.
Someday.