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It’s kind of an accident, but it’s really Junhwe’s fault in the end, and he’s got nobody to blame but himself. He knows that when you live with six other guys you need to take precautions in order to ensure certain secrets don't get out—that you don't end up revealing things about yourself that would be better left hidden. Say, for example, you're a manly guy who happens to enjoy wearing silky satin panties. It's possible, right? You work hard, and you deserve to have nice things in life, and at the end of the day what you choose to wear in the privacy of your own bed should remain private.
And it does remain private, for the most part. Junhwe keeps his secrets well, a small collection of pretty women's underthings buried carefully behind neatly folded socks and t-shirts, and he takes full advantage of whatever solo time he can scramble up to indulge himself. (Junhwe does, however, wash his own laundry now, after one such incident a couple of years back in which one of his particular secrets had made its way into the dorm laundry service. They had all laughed it off as a mix-up, but Junhwe had never been so cavalier again. Especially not after Bobby wore them on his head as a joke.)
It had been incredibly risky, desperately so, to wear silky women’s underwear to an interview—his favorite ones, a pink satin bikini dotted with little flowers; they don’t fit him well, but that’s to be expected, since they aren’t exactly built to accommodate his size, dick and balls notwithstanding—but they’d been well hidden beneath his boxer briefs, and it’d been so long he couldn’t help being tempted.
So Junhwe’s a pervert. They all are, in their own ways, and Junhwe’s no exception.
The others are occupied watching television, with the exception of Bobby, who’s sitting in the corner putting together something small and complicated; so Junhwe figures he’s safe in retiring early to spend a little quality time with his right hand.
And the particular pair he’s been wearing right now is so soft, so luxurious, that Junhwe’s been dying to touch himself for most of the day. The delicate fabric is pretty, hugs his hips so comfortably, smooth and silky over his cock. He palms himself gently through the panties, and then more firmly, only barely managing to stifle the moan he feels waiting in his throat.
It’s not about feeling feminine for Junhwe, not about cross-dressing or being girly; this has nothing to do with any of that. The smooth fabric simply feels wonderful against his skin, a tiny, naughty secret he carries with him, and perhaps that’s arousing enough on its own.
He’s careful not to come on the panties themselves, since opportunities to wash his pretty underwear are rarer still, but the stroke of his palm through the sleek fabric is always delicious, and Junhwe’s not ungrateful for the lucky chance at privacy to indulge himself.
He cleans himself off with a wet wipe and tosses it toward the trash can, missing by several feet and hoping in a sort of vindictive humor that Hanbin steps on it in the middle of the night. Then he yawns, stretches, runs his fingers lightly over the smooth feel of the fabric hugging his hips with a smile.
Normally, he’d pull his boxers on over his panties as a safety precaution, but it’s dark in the room and he’s under the blankets, and his shorts are hanging on the corner of his bunk just in case. They've got an early call for radio at seven (which Junhwe dreads, because he's not a morning person), and he’s feeling very sleepy and very sated, so he shrugs it off, pulls the blanket more snugly over himself, and is asleep within moments.
This turns out to be a mistake.
The next thing he knows, it's one in the morning when the blare of the fire alarm erupts through the dorm, cutting brutally into Junhwe’s heavy sleep with all the grace and gentleness of a flying brick.
Junhwe lies there for a few seconds, hoping that maybe he's dreaming it all; maybe Hanbin changed his ringtone and he's taking an urgent middle of the night call from their manager, cancelling the morning radio show. Maybe.
“Guys, get out of bed, it's the fucking fire alarm!” Hanbin yells irritably. Junhwe groans, still half asleep; it takes all of his patience to not yell at Hanbin to go fuck himself. He'll get up when he's ready to get up. The fire can fucking wait.
Junhwe groggily sits up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and makes a grab for the pair of shorts he'd left hanging on the side of his bed.
Except that there’s nothing there, and he gropes around frantically, coming up empty-handed and horrified. With a thundering heart, he peeks over the side of his bunk, stomach turning over in panic when he sees his shorts on the floor.
Fuck.
Junhwe rubs his face in dismay, his entire field of vision spiraling around the dark blot of his shorts so far away. Thankfully, Hanbin is already out the door, rousing everyone from their beds, apoplectic with rage. Junhwe dimly sees Bobby following after Hanbin, and thinks in a whirl of dizzy fear that maybe, if he can climb down quickly and throw his shorts on, nobody will see.
Junhwe kicks his sheets away and throws his legs over the side of the bed, feet slipping into the rungs of the bunk's ladder as he grips the rail with sweaty palms. He's usually more careful about climbing down (memories of Chanwoo falling out of his top bunk and landing tailbone first haunt Junhwe to this day) but apparently fate prefers no man, because he trips over his own feet in his urgency and crashes to the floor, panties and all.
Junhwe lets out a loud curse as he hits the floor, feet still caught up in the ladder. The pain is overwhelming, momentarily paralyzing even, and he lies still on the ground for a moment, his head ringing with the impact, too breathless even to be panicked. Nothing seems broken, he’s simply too dazed to move.
To Junhwe’s deepening horror, he discovers that the particular moment he chooses to lie on the floor is just long enough to add further insult to injury.
“Holy shit, dude, you okay? I heard—” Bobby yells over the screech of the siren, running back into the room, concern on his face until he spots Junhwe on the floor. Bobby begins to laugh hysterically as he moves around the bed to help Junhwe up, “Did you fall out of bed?”
Junhwe scrambles to his feet in sheer terror, grabbing at his shorts and trying in vain to cover himself with them. It’s too late, because the laughter dies in Bobby’s throat as he catches a glimpse of Junhwe’s pretty panties, and Junhwe freezes, knows with a wash of despair that he’s been exposed. Even the wail of the fire alarm, and the pain in his hip and shoulder, is muted in his ears.
Maybe he should just stay here. The fire can have him.
Just when Junhwe thinks life can't possibly get any worse, Hanbin returns to the bedroom, looking disheveled and wild. He locks eyes with a panicked Junhwe for a second before Hanbin's gaze drops to his waist (Junhwe clutches his shorts to himself hastily, but it’s much too late) and Hanbin's face goes blank with shock before he turns right around to head back out the door.
“Get some clothes on, princess, we gotta go. By the way, those are very sexy.” Bobby says, waggling his eyebrows, his eyes lingering on Junhwe’s crotch. Junhwe lets out a groan.
“I think I’m just going to die here in peace, thanks.” Junhwe says, pulling on his shorts, his hands still shaking with tension. Bobby’s chuckling to himself.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” Bobby says with a grin.
“Would you just shut the fuck up.” Junhwe growls, snatching a shirt off the floor without regard to whom it belongs and pulling it over his head. “If you breathe so much as a word, I’ll fucking—”
“I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be making threats here, dude.” Bobby says easily. “Now come on, or Hanbin’s going to have a coronary.”
*
The fire turns out to be a false alarm from the apartment below, and they’re cleared to re-enter only fifteen minutes or so after being chivvied outside by an incensed Hanbin.
“All of you, get back in bed, we’ve got to be up in four hours.” He snaps as they’re riding the elevator back up, and nobody is stupid—or awake—enough to snap back. Junhwe doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep at all, especially not when Bobby keeps casting him knowing looks, his eyebrows jumping suggestively. He fixates silently on the beauty mark on the back of Jinhwan’s arched neck in front of him, teeth grinding, angry and humiliated.
He lies in bed for half an hour, fuming in silence, surprised he managed to escape any further commentary from Bobby. He knows it’s coming, though. In fact, if it weren’t for their rooming with Hanbin (who had pointedly glared Bobby into bed as soon as they got into their room, eyes narrowing until Bobby’s shit-eating grin vanished into the darkness), Junhwe is certain Bobby would be whispering into his ear right now.
Or rather he’d have tried to, but realistically, he’d be on the floor nursing a broken nose, because Junhwe would have punched him.
It’s nearing two in the morning when Junhwe finally feels the pull of sleep cutting through the fog of shame that had settled over his brain (not shame at wearing the panties, just shame at being caught in them). He kicks himself mentally over and over for not simply putting his boxers on like he normally would, but the fox is among the chickens now, and there’s no going back. The best he can do is act as if it’d never happened.
But just as he’s about to succumb to sleep, a voice tears through the silence, and Junhwe jerks awake in surprise.
“I can’t believe Junhwe wears girl’s panties.” Bobby whispers.
“For the love of God, Jiwon, shut the fuck up.” Hanbin answers, and Junhwe lies very still, utterly mortified. Does Bobby think he’s sleeping? Or does he know that Junhwe’s awake and listening?
“It’s fucking hot, though.” Bobby replies. Junhwe contemplates throwing something at him (and only doesn’t because there’s nothing hard enough to hurt within arm’s reach).
“Stop talking.” Hanbin hisses back, and Junhwe is comforted that at least Hanbin doesn’t want to discuss his choice of underwear with Bobby.
“No, seriously,” Bobby says with relish, and Junhwe realizes that it doesn’t matter if he’s awake. Bobby’s making no effort to keep his voice down—he wants to be heard. He wants to see if Junhwe will take the bait. “I’d fuck him in those panties. Seriously.”
Junhwe lies still, his eyes wide in the dark, his mind suddenly racing. Bobby's just crossed some invisible line, it seems, for all three of them; Junhwe’s sweating suddenly for no discernible reason, his silky panties way too tight, and Hanbin absolutely loses it.
“Jiwon, if you don't stop talking right the fuck now, I will murder you in your sleep. Seriously.”
Bobby finally shuts up, only a smothered giggle leaving him as he thrashes around in his bedcovers, noisily making himself comfortable.
Junhwe doesn't sleep a wink all night.
*
The interview goes badly for Junhwe, who's miserable throughout the whole thing, his silences sullen and his head heavy with exhaustion. More to that point, his mind goes blank every time he opens his mouth to speak, and he shuts it again abruptly, shaking his head in time with the throbbing pain of his sleep headache.
He can't stop thinking about Bobby’s words, which pisses him off more than it should, because it's Bobby, and Junhwe doesn't believe in letting Bobby have any sway over him whatsoever. Even still, he can barely stand to look at Bobby, who had not missed a single chance to smirk at him knowingly every time they'd made eye contact.
Nor had he missed the opportunity to make a handful of pointed remarks, just loud enough for Junhwe to hear, just vague enough to make Junhwe wonder whether he’s being paranoid.
“Don't get your undies in a bunch.” Bobby says offhandedly to a scowling Hanbin, who storms off in a temper. Bobby cuts a glance at Junhwe, who stolidly pretends he notices nothing and turns quickly to talk to Yunhyeong, who in turn notices nothing about the flush creeping up the back of Junhwe’s neck.
*
In the afternoon, they finally sit down to have their first creative meeting for their upcoming tour, which everyone’s been looking forward to. Hanbin’s been in and out of these meetings for the past week, reviewing ideas with their stage director and president Yang. No one has been privy to any information from Hanbin, which isn’t unusual, because their leader likes to keep that sort of stuff on a tight leash. He won’t tell them a thing until the details are worked out, and all of them wait with bated breath to see exactly what fresh hell has been developed for them.
It’s all standard, more or less—new setlists, new costumes, and along with that, news that no one expected to hear—news no one is really all that happy to hear.
“Dresses? We have to wear dresses?” Bobby asks, mouth open as he stares at Hanbin in disbelief. Hanbin refuses to meet his eyes.
“Don’t forget the wigs,” Donghyuk reminds with a laugh, “this is going to be so weird.”
“Don’t complain!” Jinhwan scolds Bobby. “You only have to do one song in a dress. I have to do two.”
“Guys, enough, honestly. I don’t know why you’re surprised, it’s not like this is unheard of for rookie groups to do. It comes with the package deal.” Hanbin says irritably.
“Winner hyungs didn’t have to do this.” Bobby complains.
“Yeah, well, they also didn’t get a Korean tour, did they?” Hanbin levels a squinting glare at Bobby. “Take your pick, Jiwon. Wear a dress for one song or get relegated to Japan.”
Bobby frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, but then suddenly his lips pull up in a grin and he glances at Junhwe briefly. “What are we wearing underneath the dresses? They gonna make us wear girl’s undies too?”
Junhwe chokes on the swallow of water he’d been taking, and Chanwoo thumps him on the back soundly until he’s done coughing, drenched in his drink. He hopes they’ll take the flush on his face as one from choking rather than dying of humiliation. Bobby’s eyes snap back to Hanbin, but his attention remains trained on Junhwe, and Junhwe shifts uncomfortably, his ego smarting. He’s been trying his best to forget what Bobby had said in the dark the night before, but it doesn’t seem to be going away.
“Come on, guys, let’s be serious.” Hanbin says, snapping his fingers to regain their attention. “You’ll wear dance trunks, it’s just part of the stage show. This is what’s been agreed on, so you’ll do it, and you’ll like it.”
Yunhyeong groans in dismay. Chanwoo seems least perturbed by this bombshell (“It can’t be worse than the baked potato jackets”) but Junhwe keeps his mouth firmly shut. It’s just better if he doesn’t draw attention to himself at this point.
*
Junhwe’s alone in the bathroom, washing his hands and trying not to splash water down the front of his dress before costume change. Bobby comes in behind him, his wig off and hair in sweaty tangles, still in his own dress with lipstick smudged across his mouth. Junhwe sees Bobby in the mirror and hastily busies himself scrubbing at his hands, trying desperately not to catch Bobby’s eye. The last thing he needs is to be sexually harassed by Bobby, especially not when there’s every chance he’ll react to it.
Bobby heads for the urinal, hiking his dress up and getting to business. That doesn’t keep him from starting a discussion, though. “So, Junhwe,” Bobby begins, “I’m curious about something.”
Junhwe thinks about ignoring him, about not taking the bait, about just simply leaving. It would be the simplest answer. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t, but he stays still, staring at the back of Bobby’s head in the mirror.
“How do you fit your dick in those things? Doesn’t that get uncomfortable?” Bobby’s tone is surprisingly polite, quite a departure from Junhwe’s expectation of Bobby’s typical aggressive lewdness. He sounds genuinely curious, and Junhwe doesn’t know what to make of it. After all, this isn’t exactly standard conversation between band members. It’s not a conversation he’s had with anyone, to be honest.
So Junhwe diplomatically remains silent, mainly because he has no idea how to answer the question. He’s relieved that Bobby’s not disgusted or squeamish, but he’s not at all sure how to deal with the opposite response.
Bobby finishes at the urinal and then moves to stand next to Junhwe at the sink. He stands there for a moment, watching Junhwe in the mirror, a grin on his lips. “Come on, I’m dying to know.”
Junhwe stares at him for a second, curling his lips in something like disgust but more like impatience. “Wash your fucking hands.” He reaches for a paper towel, wishing he had taken the chance and left before Bobby said anything. He really does not want to have this conversation here. Especially not right now.
“Come on,” Bobby coaxes, “I’m your roommate, I’ve seen your dick before. Those panties looked way too small to fit all of you.” Finally, he turns on the tap and washes his hands.
“Why is this so important to you?” Junhwe hedges. Bobby smirks, straightening up and flicking water from his fingers before turning to Junhwe, and he takes a step forward, well into Junhwe’s airspace, so that Junhwe takes a step back against the wall.
“It’s really hot.” Bobby breathes, looking up at him directly, and Junhwe feels pinned to the wall by Bobby’s gaze, a twist of heat spiraling through him. He hadn’t expected Bobby to state it so openly, right to Junhwe’s face, and he’s so taken aback he can’t even move. “I just want to see them. That’s all.”
“That’s fucking weird, hyung.” Junhwe spits, but he still doesn’t budge. He realizes he’s half-hard beneath the skirt, and more than anything, that sends a bolt of icy panic flooding through him.
“Kinda funny, coming from the guy who likes wearing them.” Bobby says, one eyebrow raised. “Are you wearing them right now?”
“No, I’m not, and even if I was, you couldn’t see them now.” Junhwe shakes his head.
“What about later?” Bobby says, leaning closer, and Junhwe bites his lip.
“Go to hell.” Junhwe says brusquely.
“So yes, then.” Bobby grins, and then he steps back. Junhwe lets out a long breath, tension leaving his body slowly, and he doesn’t know why exactly his heart is racing. “Don’t wait around here too long, we’ve gotta get changed for the next set.”
Bobby slips out of the bathroom and is gone before Junhwe can catch his breath, and he dawdles for a few extra moments to compose himself before heading back out to the changing rooms.
*
It’s late by the time they wrap up the show, cram down a hasty dinner, and head back to the apartment. Everyone’s still buzzing after the performance, high on excitement after a job well done, and no one really wants to sleep right away. The late hour finds them grouped in the living room, laughing about their various stages and dreaming up plans to make things funnier next time.
After their brief meeting in the bathroom, Bobby had left Junhwe alone for the rest of the night, occupying himself with Hanbin instead. Junhwe’s fine with that—relieved, really, because he’s not sure how to deal with Bobby’s needling. He has no idea whether Bobby’s newfound interest in him is genuine, or whether he’s just openly deriding Junhwe for the secret he’d found out. Junhwe isn’t sure he wants to know which is closer to the truth.
On one hand, he’s resentful that Bobby had found out about this against Junhwe’s will, even though it had been no one’s fault. On the other hand, Junhwe can’t pretend he wouldn’t enjoy sharing this with someone else. That said, the absolute last person he’d have chosen to share this with is Bobby, no matter what Bobby’s potential reaction might have been.
Junhwe escapes from the group mid-conversation about the awkwardness Bobby experienced during their Bang Bang Bang stage, with the huge hat that kept falling down over his eyes, and slips quietly into their shared room, setting about gathering his things for a shower in the adjoined bathroom.
Junhwe takes his time selecting a pair of panties from the hiding spot in his top drawer—a light blue pair, with a silky ruffle around the edges, smooth and sleek and comfortable. He’s extra careful about taking them into the bathroom, hiding them in a pair of boxers, which he then hides in a pair of shorts. He isn’t about to take any chances, not with Bobby’s recent predatory behavior and Hanbin knowing about his little secret.
And if it’s a touch more dangerous than usual to be indulging his tastes tonight of all times, well, Junhwe’s never been one to deny himself the finer pleasures in life. He’s done a good job; they’ve successfully completed their first concert of the tour with no major foul-ups; and he’s feeling like he’s earned a reward for doing so well.
Bobby definitely does not factor into this equation at all.
He takes his time in the shower, too, enjoying the hot water and washing away the sweat and stress and strain of the day, and even as he’s stepping out of the stall, he reaches out to lock the door for safety. There’s a dorm rule about not locking bathroom doors, but there are always moments of exception, and this is definitely one of them.
However, as he slips his legs into the panties and pulls them slowly up over his thighs, enjoying the slide of the glossy fabric over his skin, he hears voices coming from the adjoined bedroom, recognizing Bobby and Hanbin. He feels a little rush of relief; he’s bound to be safe from Bobby as long as Hanbin’s around, at least.
Just as he finishes getting dressed, though, their conversation takes a turn that Junhwe had not been expecting, one that he likes less and less as it continues.
“Hanbin-ah, I’m horny again.” Bobby complains.
Junhwe grimaces and considers his options—he’s really not in the mood to stick around and listen to these two bone. He can always hightail it out of the room and apologize for the interruption later.
He doesn’t, though. He stays rooted to the spot, listening more closely than he knows is appropriate, but all kinds of boundaries have been breached tonight, so what’s one more?
“Seriously, Jiwon? Again? I already blew you at the venue, what the fuck is your deal tonight?” Hanbin says, sounding exasperated, and Junhwe can’t help but grin.
Serves Hanbin right, he thinks. In Junhwe’s opinion, Hanbin caters to Bobby too much, and this is his comeuppance.
“I told you,” Bobby responds with a growl in his voice, “I can’t get that visual of Junhwe in panties out of my mind and it’s driving me fucking crazy.” That wipes the smile off of Junhwe’s face instantly. He takes another cautious step toward the door, holding his breath, hardly daring to move in case they hear him. He doesn’t want to be caught listening to this.
And he definitely does not want to be caught listening to this while wearing the item of clothing in question. The curl of heat in his belly raises its head curiously like a tiny snake, and Junhwe wills himself not to get hard again. The last thing he needs is more complications, and he needs even less anything that will seem like an invitation to Bobby. Or like encouragement for himself.
“Maybe you should just ask Junhwe to blow you, then.” Hanbin says grumpily. Junhwe knows that Hanbin’s not jealous, at least not strictly speaking; his voice is petulant in a way that tells Junhwe he’s tired, rather than upset. “Personally, I’d like to just forget that I ever saw that.”
“I can’t.” Bobby says on a whine. “It’s really hot, Hanbin. Would you wear something like that for me?”
“No.” Hanbin says flatly. “Come on, dude. My jaw hurts and I’m tired. Just rub one out. Or ask Junhwe. You know I’m okay with it.”
Bobby huffs, annoyed. “You’re not the problem. The fact that it’s Junhwe is the problem.”
“Where is he, anyway?” Hanbin says.
“Probably still primping in the bathroom.”
“Okay. I think I’m gonna go out and write for a little while. I had some good ideas over dinner, and I want to get them down before I fall asleep and forget them.” Junhwe feels a cold wash of nerves flood through him at the concept of spending the rest of the evening alone in Bobby’s presence. He hears the sound of them kissing briefly, and then Hanbin says, “Put a sock on the doorknob or something if you want me to sleep in Jinhwan’s room tonight.”
“You know you’d be invited to join anything I get into. Or anyone.” Bobby responds slyly, and Hanbin lets out a snort of derisive laughter.
“I don’t want any part of your panty party with Junhwe. You two can enjoy that kink on your own, thanks.”
Junhwe hears the bedroom door open and then close, and then Bobby sighs. Junhwe is considering his options, wishing he’d brought his phone with him so he could call for someone’s backup. His best bet is probably running from the bathroom out into the living room, and if no one is still hanging around watching TV then he could head for Jinhwan’s room. Jinhwan would (probably) save him from Bobby without requiring explanation.
Just as he’s steeling himself to leave, he hears Bobby muttering to himself, voice barely audible behind the closed door. Junhwe can’t make out much, but he does hear the sound of a drawer opening.
Bobby wouldn’t…
He presses his ear a little closer to the door, just to confirm his suspicions. Bobby’s rifling through Junhwe’s drawers! He’s so angry he can barely hold still. What kind of nosy, conniving douchebag—
Indignation overtakes his sense of self-preservation, and he turns the knob and barges back into the bedroom. “What the fuck do you—” He growls.
Bobby looks up, surprised, and Junhwe feels his heart sink. Bobby isn’t going through Junhwe’s drawers; he’s going through Hanbin’s, elbow deep in a jumble of t-shirts, but his face cracks into a grin. “Hey.” He says coolly, and all Junhwe’s bravado fails at once, because now Junhwe’s chased himself up a tree, at the bottom of which Bobby is waiting.
“I was looking for Hanbin’s headphones.” Bobby says easily, shrugging, and Junhwe shakes his head helplessly, makes for the door before Bobby can annoy him any more. He’s not going to subject himself to this tonight.
But as he reaches for the knob, Bobby says, “Wait.”
Junhwe waits. He knows exactly what this is about, and he wants nothing to do with it. But still, for whatever reason, he turns back to look at Bobby, waiting for...something. He’s sure it’s more ridicule, but maybe he really wants to determine how serious Bobby’s being about this.
“Are you wearing them?”
“Dude, come on.” Junhwe bites out. “Joke’s over, okay?”
“What?”
“You can stop making fun of me now. I get it.” Junhwe says, scowling at Bobby, his face heating up with anger and embarrassment.
Bobby raises his eyebrows in amazement. “Shit, man. I’m not making fun of you.”
“Yes, you are.” Junhwe snaps in response, reaching for the doorknob again, “Quit it.”
“Dude, I’m not.” Bobby says, and Junhwe looks back at him when he catches whatever sincerity he hears in Bobby’s voice, his hand dropping back to his side. “I’m not making fun of you. I wasn’t lying when I said it was hot.”
Junhwe licks his lips. His heart is suddenly beating way too fast against his breastbone, his pulse noisy in his ears. “You’re making fun of me right now.” He accuses weakly.
“I swear I’m not,” Bobby repeats, “I understand why you think I am, but dude, honestly. They look fucking hot on you.”
Junhwe leans against the door and stares at him, his steely gaze meeting Bobby’s surprisingly open one. He seems sincere, but Junhwe still can’t shake the feeling that Bobby’s just coaxing him into letting his guard down.
“I’m serious, Junhwe, I know I probably gave you the wrong impression at first. I admit it, I really went about it the wrong way, I totally get why you think I’m making fun of you. But man, I just can’t get the picture out of my mind. Like I probably ramble to Hanbin about it multiple times a day.”
“Yeah, can you maybe stop talking to him about me?” Junhwe mutters irritably, remembering the conversation he’d overheard. But then he also remembers that Bobby had asked Hanbin if he’d ever wear them, and Junhwe can’t imagine Bobby bringing that request up without Junhwe’s being present to mock. So maybe, just maybe, Bobby’s being honest in his admiration.
Bobby laughs at the request, but it’s a fond laugh. “Yeah, I probably should. I’m surprised he hasn’t snapped and punched me over it.”
Junhwe shakes his head. “He’s too accommodating to you, so I don’t really feel bad for him. I’m just not really comfortable with the idea of you guys talking about me. About...this.”
Bobby nods in understanding, actually looking halfway guilty. “Okay, yeah, you have a point. I’m sorry, I promise I won’t talk about it to anyone else. Not even Hanbin. And if it makes you feel better, I haven’t told anyone else either.”
“Not particularly, but thanks all the same.” Junhwe says curtly.
Bobby grins. “I still really want to see them, though. Can I?” He repeats, and Junhwe wants to snap, wants to hit Bobby, wants to yell at him. This is too much, this is too far, and he opens his mouth to shout only to close it just as quickly. Bobby’s too eager to be feigning, too serious to be truly mocking him, and more than anything, Junhwe realizes, he wants to show him.
Junhwe swallows hard, hesitating before replying. He’s seriously considering this. What is wrong with him?
“You really want to?”
“Yeah.” Bobby looks eager, excited, his eyes raking Junhwe’s body so shamelessly that Junhwe can practically feel the pressure of his gaze like sandpaper.
“I can’t fucking believe this.” Junhwe says, rubbing his forehead with his palm. “Fine.” He digs a thumb into the elastic of his boxers and drags them down, just far enough for the ruffle of his blue panties to pop out. “There you go. Satisfied?” He says gruffly, letting the elastic snap back into place, and Bobby makes a tiny, gratified sound that has Junhwe feeling oddly rattled.
“No.” Bobby breathes, taking a step closer to Junhwe. “I want to see them. Show me.”
“Go away.” Junhwe says, looking away from Bobby.
“Please?”
But Bobby’s implacable, and Junhwe is feeling more and more emboldened by the moment. As Bobby takes another step closer, Junhwe hooks his fingers into the elastic of his boxers again, wondering what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. Bobby’s lip is caught between his teeth in anticipation, his eyes fixed on the line of Junhwe’s hip.
Everything about this is wrong, everything about this feels so illicit—even naughty—and Junhwe’s whole body is red-hot with embarrassment, but Bobby’s keenness is drawing the performer out of Junhwe almost against his will.
Junhwe eases his shorts and boxers down over his hips, and they slide down his legs to pool on the floor, his body rigid as he waits for Bobby’s response. His brain is screaming, the awkward tension almost making him pull them back up again and retreat. But then Bobby’s eyes widen and he licks his lips, and Junhwe can’t help the little smirk that pulls at his mouth. Being roommates with Bobby affords him the ability to recognize Bobby’s facial expressions, and right now he’s wearing a look that he usually reserves for Hanbin.
It makes Junhwe feel powerful, having this kind of pull over Bobby. He watches as Bobby automatically palms himself through his shorts, and the shameless interest he’s showing in Junhwe right now is melting the embarrassment away.
Bobby can’t take his eyes off of Junhwe, and that suddenly makes all the difference in the world.
“You weren’t kidding, were you?” Junhwe asks. “You do like it.”
Bobby nods and bites his lip. “They really compliment you.”
“Thanks.” Junhwe folds his arms across his chest, but he feels his confidence rising as Bobby’s eyes continue to drink him in, and he shifts his weight a little, his hip jutting out in a way he knows is attractive.
“So, any chance I could get you to turn around and give me a full view?” Bobby asks, a hint of desperate longing in his voice.
Junhwe laughs incredulously. “No.” Does Bobby really think he’d be giving in to his every whim and desire that easily?
The refusal catches Bobby off guard. “Why not?” He asks, his open mouth and wide eyes almost making Junhwe laugh again.
“Why should I?” Junhwe counters. He has Bobby practically begging him; this is too good to just cut and run. He’s never had an opportunity to tease Bobby before, and he’s relishing the unexpected authority he has over the situation.
Bobby frowns and returns his gaze downward, drinking in the image of Junhwe’s pretty blue underwear. Trust the brat to get cocky in the moment, Bobby thinks. But he’s okay with that. He’s had ample practice over the years with a mouthy Hanbin—he can break Junhwe eventually.
“Fine, so I can’t see the back,” Bobby pouts, “can I at least touch them?” He looks back up at Junhwe, gives him his best pleading look.
Junhwe contemplates Bobby’s request, not sure what exactly to do just yet. What does he even want out of this, anyway? Junhwe contemplates several options, but most of them center on Bobby on his knees, Junhwe’s dick in his mouth. He’s half-drunk on the power Bobby’s giving him, enjoying being wanted so much, and he’s not above using that to his advantage.
“Sure.” He shrugs, not about to move to make himself more accessible to Bobby. The last thing he wants to do seem too eager, nevermind that he’s already half-hard and getting harder.
“They look soft.” Bobby murmurs, and his gaze is heavy, his lips wet where his tongue slicks over them. He reaches out tentatively, places his hands on either side of Junhwe’s hips, his fingertips light on Junhwe’s skin; his palms are warm through the silky fabric, thumbing over the ruffled hem of the underwear. He notices that Junhwe’s hard, the shape of his dick outlined clearly in the clinging fabric, but he doesn’t mention it.
"They really are soft." Bobby says appreciatively, smoothing his palms over the sleek fabric, fingers creeping just close enough to Junhwe’s cock to tell Junhwe that he’s noticed how hard he is. "And they look fuckin' good on you."
"Of course they do." Junhwe mutters mulishly, eyes following Bobby’s fingers. Bobby's thumbs trace along the edges of the leg holes, warm against Junhwe's skin as they drag back up toward the front of Junhwe's hips, and Junhwe stiffens in a combination of surprise and excitement.
Bobby fights to keep the grin from his lips. "Are you nervous?"
Junhwe forces out a laugh. "No."
Bobby looks up to meet his eyes. "Then why are you so tense?"
Junhwe doesn't answer with words, rolling his eyes before looking away. Bobby knows why, though, fingertips slipping just beneath the elastic to tease against Junhwe’s skin.
Junhwe can’t help looking back down, watching in anticipation as Bobby's other hand glides over the silky fabric slowly, slowly, until he's dragging his palm over the shape of Junhwe's cock standing out against the satin. Junhwe's so hard he thinks he could die, annoyed with himself for letting Bobby take control, but the quiet involuntary hitch in his breathing has its echo in Bobby's throat.
"These are so fucking hot." Bobby repeats. "I want to see the back, Junhwe. Please?"
Junhwe remembers his endgame, remembers what it is that he wants from Bobby later on. He should probably lay out the expectation now, make sure they’re both on the same page. “Listen,” he starts, looking down at Bobby’s hands still softly touching him, “I want something in return.”
Bobby can’t say he’s surprised—Junhwe’s never been one to just do what he’s told without putting up a power struggle, a maknae who wants to be a hyung. He’ll need to play his cards right, because Bobby has an endgame as well, one that he hasn’t even told Hanbin about. “Sure, what do you want?”
Junhwe isn’t sure why he’s feeling nervous about this part. It’s been awhile since it’s happened, but it’s also not like Bobby’s never sucked his dick before. Maybe he’s afraid of Hanbin, but Hanbin’s not here. He takes a deep breath. “I want you to blow me.”
Bobby grins, licking his lips. “Is that all? I blow you, and then I get a full visual to commit to memory? Sounds more than fair to me.”
Junhwe smirks. “Sure.” If Bobby wants to stare at his ass in panties, he might as well let him do it while he’s too blissed out to care, after coming down Bobby’s throat.
“My legs are too sore to kneel on the floor. Get on the bed, and I’ll blow you.” Bobby says, warm palm smoothing across the slippery fabric to cup Junhwe through it again, and Junhwe only just manages to keep a moan from leaving his mouth. Junhwe’s just barely regained control over the situation, but he intends to maintain that control as long as he can.
Junhwe makes Bobby turn around until he’s settled back comfortably on Bobby’s bed, reclining against the pillows with panties riding low on his hips. “So blow me already.” Junhwe says, and Bobby crawls onto the bed with him, pushing Junhwe’s legs apart to kneel between them.
He splays his hands flat over Junhwe’s hips, smirking down at him the entire time, snapping the waistband lightly against Junhwe’s skin and teasing two fingers underneath the elastic until Junhwe’s barely able to keep from squirming.
“I thought I told you to blow me.” Junhwe growls as Bobby continues to dawdle, pushing his hands underneath the silky underwear to rest his palms against Junhwe’s bare hips and relishing the sharp intake of breath he elicits.
“You did.” Bobby says smugly. “But so far neither of us is getting what we want.”
“You’re stupid.” Junhwe mutters. “You can look all you want once you’ve finished me off.”
Bobby dips down at once, his open mouth skating hotly over the surface of the panties where the shape of Junhwe’s dick is outlined against the pale blue satin, running the flat of his tongue over the spot of precome he finds there. Then he nips at the elastic around the waistband, tugging it down with his teeth until Junhwe’s cock springs free.
And Junhwe thinks that Hanbin must be teaching Bobby a thing or two, because this is not the amateurish blowjob he remembers Bobby giving him two years ago. He sucks Junhwe into his mouth in one easy motion, tugging the waistband of Junhwe’s panties out of the way with two fingers, and Junhwe’s breath is squeezed out of his lungs in a helpless moan of surprise.
“Ah, fuck.” Junhwe mutters, his head lolling back against the pillows. “You’ve improved a lot from last time, then.”
Bobby pops him back out of his mouth to answer. “I’ve had a lot of practice since last time.” He sucks Junhwe’s cock back into his mouth unprompted, and Junhwe can’t help the chuckle that escapes his lips.
“I figured as much.” Junhwe will, however, definitely not be thanking Hanbin later, no matter how much he actually had to do with improving Bobby’s oral skills and bedside manner.
Bobby looks up at Junhwe as he works, lips and tongue sliding skillfully over Junhwe’s cock, watching Junhwe relax into his ministrations. He wants Junhwe peaceful, wants him calm and pleasured, because he’ll be so much less likely to fight Bobby every step of the way later.
Bobby slips him out again briefly. “Tell me what you want.” he offers, before licking down to the base of Junhwe’s dick and mouthing at one of his balls.
“I want you to stop talking and suck my dick, asshole.”
Bobby’s laugh is muffled as he sinks down on Junhwe’s cock again, eyelashes fluttering when he takes Junhwe deep, fingertips smoothing over the blue satin and Junhwe’s hips. Junhwe gets his next surprise when Bobby reaches below to push Junhwe’s leg over his shoulder, his palm cupping Junhwe’s ass cheek, fingertips digging into the flesh.
Junhwe has a protest half-out of his mouth when Bobby cuts him off, eyes closed as he licks across the head of Junhwe’s cock. “I’m not looking. Just touching.”
“But—” Whatever Junhwe means to say dissolves in his mouth as Bobby’s mouth takes him in easily again, lips tight around his cock and hand squeezing the smooth curve of Junhwe’s ass through his silky panties. Bobby’s fingers slide dangerously beneath the ruffled edge before he moves them instead to slip between Junhwe’s cheeks, to rub his fingertips firmly against Junhwe’s entrance through the satin.
Junhwe chokes on a surprised moan, caught completely off guard. “Holy fuck.” He blurts helplessly. Bobby laughs again as his lips work over Junhwe’s cock, the rhythm of his fingertips gaining speed as he rubs the silky fabric over and over against Junhwe’s sensitive hole. Junhwe bucks into Bobby’s mouth, wondering why the fuck he’s never thought of this himself.
Bobby increases the pressure a little, ignoring the discomfort as his hand begins to seize with the repetitive motion. Junhwe’s his now, as far as he’s concerned. He’ll be damned if he’ll let a little muscle cramp get between him and a humbled Junhwe with Bobby’s cum all over the back of his pretty blue panties. He redoubles his efforts, sinking down to take Junhwe all the way in again, fingers working the silky fabric over Junhwe’s entrance until Junhwe moans out loud.
“Fuck, that’s good,” Junhwe says breathlessly, his voice tight in his throat.
Bobby hums in acknowledgment of the praise, pleased when Junhwe’s leg curls towards him, responding to the extra vibrations in Bobby’s throat. There’s no way he can have Junhwe this close already, he thinks, though he hopes he does. He wants Junhwe to know that Bobby’s got his number.
Junhwe reaches out to grab Bobby’s head, fingers settling into his hair, pushing down while simultaneously pushing up with his hips, catching Bobby’s mouth in between. He’s surprised to catch Bobby watching him, eyes fixed on Junhwe’s face with a predatory intensity that makes Junhwe close his eyes again, feeling a lashing of self-consciousness under such scrutiny.
But then Bobby’s finger is actually pushing into him, just a tiny bit, the silky fabric gliding easily back and forth, and Junhwe can’t control himself because it feels too damn good. He closes his eyes again and presses his head back against the pillow before thrusting up into Bobby’s mouth. If Bobby wants to tease him, Junhwe’s got his number, too.
Bobby is ready for the wild buck of Junhwe’s hips, and he relaxes his throat well enough in advance of Junhwe grabbing his head and slamming his hips up, his cock ramming down Bobby’s throat. Bobby sucks with all the strength he can muster, finger still working over Junhwe’s hole, wanting to push in further. Bobby reminds himself to be patient; there’ll be time after this.
“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—” Junhwe groans, his grip tightening on Bobby’s hair as Bobby sinks even deeper, lips sealed around the base of his cock, “wait—gonna come—” but Bobby doesn’t stop, his fingers pushing relentlessly against Junhwe’s entrance, sucking Junhwe deep and humming low in his throat.
Junhwe has only a moment to register his surprise before his body cords tight, his mind blanking as he comes with a throttled groan in Bobby’s mouth, Bobby’s fingers and tongue feeding the fire until Junhwe slumps back against the pillow, exhausted and so fucked-out he can hardly move.
“Fuck.” Junhwe pants, looking down at Bobby and his own uncomfortably wet, spit-soaked panties as Bobby wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
“That good enough for you, princess?” Bobby says breathlessly, grinning down at Junhwe, his hair limp and falling into his eyes. He pushes it out of his face in such a smug way that Junhwe’s tempted not to let him look, but he remembers his promise.
And he’s pissed that Bobby’s just given him the blowjob of his fucking life.
“I guess so.” Junhwe mutters, panting.
“Don’t even pretend.” Bobby says, running a finger under the elastic of Junhwe’s damp underwear to snap them against his hips. “Now are you gonna show me?”
“Let me catch my breath for a second, Jesus.” Junhwe says, irritated.
“No.” Bobby says simply, grabbing Junhwe and rolling him swiftly onto his belly, ignoring Junhwe’s grunt of protest. He straddles Junhwe’s thighs from behind for good measure, so that Junhwe can’t squirm away.
“Fuck you.” Junhwe growls, but there’s nothing he can do at this point; Bobby’s weight has him effectively pinned.
“If you want.” Bobby retorts. He spreads both hands over Junhwe’s satin-covered ass cheeks, squeezing lightly, and Junhwe shivers at the ticklish sensation. “…Fuck, it was so fucking worth blowing you for this.”
Bobby’s praise mollifies Junhwe somewhat, because he can hear the honest admiration in Bobby’s voice. Okay, so maybe it is nice to have someone appreciate the aesthetic quality of his underclothes without mockery, Junhwe thinks. Maybe he can just lay here in the happy afterglow of his orgasm and let Bobby worship his ass a little. It might not be so bad.
“Seriously, I can’t believe how hot this is,” Bobby says hotly, fingers running over the soft fabric in appreciation, “I never expected you were such a dirty little slut.”
“Hyung,” Junhwe calls irritably, “please stop talking. You’re ruining the moment.”
“Oh, we’re having a moment, are we?” Bobby chuckles, kneading his hands into Junhwe’s ass and massaging the muscles, grinding his hard cock against Junhwe’s ass through his shorts. Leaving one hand on Junhwe’s ass, Bobby uses the other to reach down into his pants, pulling them down a little over his hips until he can take his dick out and rub himself against the back of Junhwe’s silky panties. It doesn’t go unnoticed.
“What are you doing?” Junhwe grumbles, irritated as Bobby prods at him.
“Just appreciating,” Bobby says, “thoroughly.”
Junhwe shakes his head in disbelief at Bobby’s audacity. “This was not in our agreement.”
“You know how contracts work, Junhwe,” Bobby says with a laugh, “we’ve entered the renegotiation stage.” He keeps his dick pressed against Junhwe’s panties, pushing lightly against Junhwe’s hole through the satin, but not making a move to actually breach him. He’s going to make Junhwe want this.
“Are you kidding me?” Junhwe asks, annoyed but not entirely surprised. Actually, he’s disappointed with himself for not expecting this. “I’d rather caress my asshole with a chainsaw.”
Bobby grins. “Are you sure? I could do that for you. I forgot my chainsaw, but that’s not important. And if you think I’m good with my mouth, you should really experience my dick.”
“You’re already enough of a pain in my ass without bringing your dick into the matter.” Junhwe retorts.
Bobby laughs again. “Come on, how many times have you seen me turn Hanbin from a savage lion to a mewling kitten?” Bobby pushes against Junhwe again, wetting the back of Junhwe’s panties with a spot of precome.
“I have no interest in being turned into a mewling kitten.” Junhwe grinds out through clenched teeth.
“Good,” Bobby mutters, “because I’m not in the mood for that either.”
In spite of himself, and in spite of how much he hates Bobby right now, Junhwe’s hard-pressed not to enjoy the manhandling, literally and figuratively; he can feel himself getting hard again, his cock sandwiched between the mattress and his belly. Unfortunately for both of them, this is Bobby, and Junhwe has absolutely no interest in relinquishing any kind of control to him, regardless of how much he’s enjoying the way Bobby’s worshiping his ass.
“It’s no use pretending you didn’t hear me say I wanted to fuck you like this.” Bobby mutters, thumbs slipping beneath the edges of the panties to pull them up gently, exposing Junhwe’s ass cheeks, the satin bunching lightly between them. Junhwe bites his lip, but he’s not one to give in so easily.
“You wish.” He mutters.
“You know I do.” Bobby’s palms are hot as they squeeze his ass again, his voice husky, and Junhwe has to suppress a shiver, because whatever he hears in Bobby’s voice has a surge of heat flowing through him. “I’d do just about anything to get into these panties of yours. Name your price.”
“Anything, huh?” Junhwe snaps, wanting to believe he’s being sarcastic. There’s no curiosity here, not as far as Junhwe is concerned. “Are we including dishes and laundry in this?”
“Let’s not get carried away, I said almost.” Bobby says, sliding his cock against the satin between Junhwe’s ass cheeks teasingly. Junhwe rubs his face in disbelief. “If it’s worth it to you, I’ll do it.”
“Eat my ass.”
He’s not expecting Bobby to agree. In fact, no one in the dorm is willing to do it except Jinhwan, and Junhwe feels guilty about always asking him for it, because he knows Jinhwan doesn’t love doing it as much as Junhwe loves getting it. So Junhwe’s taken completely aback when Bobby lets out a low growl, gripping Junhwe’s ass with both hands.
“Fuck yeah I will, gladly.” Bobby breathes, and Junhwe blinks, startled by his eager reaction. Though he’ll never say no to a good blowjob, Junhwe loves having his ass eaten, and Bobby seems eager, so Junhwe isn’t going to question his luck. “If I do, you’ll let me fuck you?”
“Do I have any other options?” Junhwe snarls.
“Fuck, of course you do.” Bobby says disgustedly. “You could tell me no, and I’d quit right now. But you’re not. You’re negotiating.”
Fuck. Junhwe can’t believe how easily he let himself walk into that one. He grunts noncommittally into his pillow, too annoyed to give Bobby a real answer. But for as much as he hadn’t wanted things to progress to this level, he can’t help but find Bobby’s eagerness...convincing. “Fine.”
“Fine?” Bobby repeats, for his part not completely convinced. “Fine, I can fuck you after I finish giving you the best damn rimjob you’ve ever had?”
“Yeah.” Junhwe wishes he’d shut up and just get on with it. “Do you want written approval or something?”
Bobby chuckles at Junhwe’s annoyed tone of voice. “If I didn’t know you so well, I’d say yes.” Bobby slides down the bed and positions himself in between Junhwe’s legs.
“Your rimjobs better be as good as your blowjobs.” Junhwe threatens, because even though he does really want Bobby’s tongue on him, there’s no way in hell he’s about to happily admit that out loud. Not to Bobby, at least.
“They are, but you don't have to take my word for it,” Bobby promises, “you’ll see for yourself soon enough, princess.” He lowers his head to Junhwe’s ass, holding him apart with both hands, tongue pressing into the satin and probing the heat of Junhwe’s puckered hole through the fabric. He can feel Junhwe tense under him, but it’s a good kind of tension, because he lifts his hips slightly off the bed and pushes back toward Bobby’s face.
“You talk too fucking much.” Junhwe grumbles, trying hard to conceal how eager he is.
Bobby grins, pulling his tongue back into his mouth for the moment as he pulls the fabric of Junhwe’s panties to the side. “Just for clarity’s sake,” Bobby begins, because he feels like he needs to say it out loud, “if you change your mind after I’m done, just say so. No hard feelings.”
Junhwe snarls into the pillow. “Why are you still talking? Don’t you have a job to do?”
Bobby bites Junhwe’s ass cheek as a retort, and Junhwe jumps in surprise and not a little pain. “What the fuck.” He snaps, but then Bobby’s grabbing his hips and yanking Junhwe up onto his hands and knees. Junhwe grunts, annoyed, wobbling as he regains his balance, but he holds back whatever retort he’d meant to hurl at Bobby; he’s so close to what he wants that he’s sure discretion is the better part of valor here.
Bobby smoothes the panties out with both hands over Junhwe’s ass, humming to himself before pulling them to the side again. “Look, you’re already hard again. This must be exciting for you.” Bobby coos patronizingly, patting Junhwe’s ass with one hand.
Junhwe hates that he feels so exposed as Bobby’s other hand, the one not holding Junhwe’s panties out of the way, cups his ass cheek with one hand and holds him open gently. “Just shut the fuck up and get on with it, will you?”
The width of Bobby’s tongue runs up from Junhwe’s balls all the way to his asshole, hot and wet, and Junhwe sucks in a breath of surprise. If he had his wits about him at all, he might learn to stop being surprised by what Bobby can do by now, but somehow, the surprise adds to the enjoyment. Junhwe closes his eyes as Bobby’s tongue presses flat against his entrance, a tiny moan leaving his lips entirely against his will.
Bobby doesn’t flinch, licking over and over Junhwe’s hole, wet and sloppy and oh so good. Junhwe moans again, a little louder this time, his back bowing helplessly and pushing against Bobby as the point of Bobby’s tongue probes deeper.
“This what you wanted?” Bobby hums, making an unattractive slurping sound, tongue wriggling its way past the tight ring of Junhwe’s entrance. He can feel Junhwe’s legs trembling ever so slightly under his fingers, and he knows Junhwe’s enjoying himself more than he’s willing to let on. Bobby’s enjoying himself too, relishing the opportunity to take Junhwe to pieces.
“Keep going.” Junhwe says, struggling to keep his voice level, the acid in his tone replaced by something urgent and a tiny bit needy. The rough texture of Bobby’s tongue fucking him outright, and the way he tugs Junhwe’s panties more sharply to the side, sends little sparks of heat flaring through Junhwe’s veins; Junhwe groans deeply, unable to keep it muted. Bobby hadn’t been lying. He is good at this, and Junhwe hates him for it.
Junhwe hates wanting Bobby, he hates that he loves what Bobby’s doing to him, but here he is, bent over for Bobby just like everyone else. At least Junhwe’s getting something out of it.
The real surprise comes when Bobby’s tongue swipes over his entrance with a sort of finality, like licking the last taste of frosting off a cake. A single finger rubs over Junhwe’s entrance in his place, pushing part of the way in. Junhwe gasps, his hips jerking into the intrusion involuntarily.
“Okay?” Bobby mutters, his tongue tracing Junhwe’s entrance around his fingertip, drawing another low moan from Junhwe.
“It’s fine.” Junhwe breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s more than fine, but Bobby doesn’t need to know that.
But Bobby hasn’t missed the way Junhwe’s stopped snapping at him, the bite in his tone giving way to something low and eager. He just needs another little push or two, and Bobby will have him folding like a fangirl.
Bobby spits carefully onto his finger and pushes in a little further, groping Junhwe’s cheek with his other hand, dropping down to lick the inside of Junhwe’s thigh from back to front. Junhwe squirms, ticklish and frustrated as Bobby rakes teeth over the curve of Junhwe’s ass. He licks back around again, up over Junhwe’s hole, pulls his finger out but instead of replacing it with his tongue, Bobby blows air over Junhwe’s ass until Junhwe’s shivering.
If Junhwe didn’t hate Bobby so much, he’d definitely be a little bit in love with him right now, squirming as Bobby’s tongue presses languorously against his entrance, licking him until he’s moaning again. Bobby clearly knows what he’s doing, clearly understands the art. Junhwe thinks about touching himself, because he’s painfully hard again, erection straining against the front of his panties; but Bobby beats him to it, reaching between Junhwe’s trembling thighs to cup him through the satin, and Junhwe’s hiss of pleasure deepens into a groan.
Bobby works two fingers inside Junhwe this time, stretching him more fully, and Junhwe can’t help but push back against the fingertips brushing over his prostate in a move that makes him shudder briefly, gasping.
Bobby laughs under his breath. He knows he could have Junhwe coming again very quickly and very hard if he wanted to, and that kind of power makes him even more eager; but more than anything, he wants Junhwe writhing like this on his dick instead. He hopes Junhwe’s loosened up enough for this (physically and mentally), because it’s a risky thing to say, but he’s willing to chance it.
“I don’t want you to come until I’m inside you.” Bobby says, half question and half instruction, holding his breath for Junhwe’s response. Junhwe’s irritation with Bobby has all but melted away under his skilled ministrations, and Junhwe’s at the point where he doesn’t care how he gets off—he just wants to get off.
And maybe, just maybe, he’s a little bit more into this than he thought he would be.
“Yeah, sure.”
Bobby can barely hold back his excitement, heat lurching through him in anticipation, his cock twitching eagerly as though it knows what’s about to happen. He retracts his fingers slowly, taking care to drag his fingertips over the soft spot inside Junhwe that makes him moan, and then he rearranges the panties over Junhwe’s ass before sliding off the bed and moving to the dresser.
“Hurry up.” Junhwe grumbles, beginning to feel self-conscious with his ass in the air, resting his head on his folded arms.
“Patience, princess.” Bobby says, shucking his shirt off in one motion as he crawls back onto the bed, lube and condoms in hand. “I won’t leave you hanging.” His hands return to Junhwe’s ass momentarily before he rolls to one side to kick his pants off, grunting with effort.
He kneels behind Junhwe quickly, rolling the condom on his dick one-handed while the other rubs Junhwe’s panties against his hole again. Junhwe moans roughly in response, and Bobby chuckles. “Yeah, you want this?” He tugs the panties to the side, reaching over for the lube. Junhwe growls by way of reply, but he doesn’t rise to the bait, and Bobby thinks he’ll work at changing that, sighing as he fists his cock with a slick of lube.
“Ready?” Bobby mutters, and Junhwe lets out a long breath, Bobby slipping between his cheeks in a hot slide of lube and latex, the slickness of it staining the blue satin where his cock rubs against the edges.
“Just go.” Junhwe says.
Bobby pets Junhwe’s ass once patronizingly, then he pushes the tip of his cock against Junhwe’s entrance, holding himself steady with one hand. “Ah, fuck.” He growls, increasing the pressure, and Junhwe groans as his body gives way to Bobby, sucking in a sharp breath. Bobby stills, hands on Junhwe’s ass, fingernails gripping into the flesh to control his powerful urge to wreck Junhwe just like this.
“Fuck, yeah. God, so fucking tight. I just wanna spank your ass like the pretty princess you are.”
“Oh, that is it!” Junhwe snarls, firing up at once; he twists around impulsively, but Bobby redoubles his grip on Junhwe’s hips, pulling him back until Junhwe’s ass is flush against his thighs. “You motherfucker.” It could have been a threat, if Junhwe’s voice didn’t dissolve into a moan at the end, and Bobby laughs low in his throat, delighted.
Junhwe can’t spare the breath after that, because Bobby’s hips begin to move, the hard slide of him forcing Junhwe’s voice out of his throat in a moan.
Bobby’s initial thrusts are shallow, grinding more than thrusting, but he quickly gains speed and depth, yanking the panties out of the way sharply, Junhwe moaning the whole time. This time, Junhwe’s not surprised, but he is still very annoyed—at least when he can spare the brain cells to notice that he is—irritated beyond belief that Bobby’s giving him the best dicking of his life.
Bobby’s not finished tormenting Junhwe, however. Now that he’s got what he wants, he’s feeling a little reckless. “Fuck, your ass is tight, but I want it even tighter.” He hisses. “Can you do that for me? Can you clench that ass for oppa?”
That’s enough to fire Junhwe up again, cutting through the fog of pleasure to jab at his ego. “The fuck did you just say to me?!”
Bobby grins and drapes himself down Junhwe’s back, one hand sliding up his arm, around his shoulder and into his hair, gripping a handful and yanking back until his mouth is at Junhwe’s ear. “Squeeze around my dick,” Bobby instructs, “I wanna feel like my cock is gonna break off in that ass of yours.” He nibbles lightly at Junhwe’s earlobe, but it doesn’t last long.
Junhwe thrashes underneath Bobby, shaking him off, tempted to headbutt him. He’s angry—both at Bobby, for trying to demean him, and also at himself, for finding it inexplicably hot. “Don’t talk to me like I’m your fucking slut.” Junhwe snarls over his shoulder.
Bobby laughs before shoving Junhwe’s head back down and straightening up again, both hands returning to Junhwe’s ass. “You’ve been my slut since the second you let me see those panties,” Bobby growls, bringing a hand down hard on Junhwe’s exposed ass cheek, “you can act as angry as you want, but we both know it’s the truth.”
Junhwe’s about to yell obscenities over his shoulder, but then Bobby runs a hand around the front of his hips and squeezes Junhwe’s cock through his panties, and it makes Junhwe’s arms tremble so badly he collapses head first into the mattress. No one has ever talked to him like this before—usually Junhwe is the one issuing commands. It’s confusing for him, feeling the need to defend himself, yet he can’t ignore the way it makes his cock throb with need.
Bobby can’t believe his luck—he’d been prepared to back off if Junhwe reacted too aggressively to his words, but now with the way he’s moaning and thrusting his ass back against Bobby to push him in deeper, it’s obvious to him that Junhwe is enjoying this way more than he wants to admit. Bobby runs his fingers over Junhwe’s ass cheek again, winding up for another hard slap, wanting to see the imprint of his hand on the pale flesh.
He contemplates what he should do when he’s ready to come—ride it out in Junhwe’s ass and come in the condom, or pull out and shoot his load on Junhwe’s panties. The second option would be an obscenely hot visual to commit to memory. It would also almost certainly piss Junhwe off the most, and that pretty much makes Bobby’s mind up on the spot.
“Call me oppa, you slut.” Bobby mocks, fingers digging into Junhwe’s hips to pull him back into rapid-fire thrusts that shake a low, quavering moan out of Junhwe’s throat.
“Like hell I will.” Junhwe grinds out, glaring at Bobby over his shoulder, the simmer of orgasm beginning to rise in his belly as Bobby pounds into him. He’s clinging bitterly to his last bit of resistance, refusing to give Bobby a single inch of space that he doesn’t tear out of Junhwe’s teeth, but this tug of war suits them both, and Bobby relishes every inch of territory he gains.
“Unless you want me to pull out and shoot my load all over your face, call me oppa. Beg oppa to come.” Bobby growls, jerking hard at Junhwe’s panties twisted in one hand. The fabric makes a straining, ripping sound, but both of them are too far gone to pay it any mind. They’d both understood pretty much from the beginning of this that the panties were essentially sacrificial.
“Fuck you.” Junhwe grunts, gasping as Bobby reaches around to palm Junhwe’s cock through the thin satin. Bobby can try to get Junhwe to do what he wants with threats or teasing or coercion, but he’ll find out soon enough that there are some things that can’t be bought. No matter how much he likes Bobby talking down to him, he has his pride to consider, after all.
Bobby bites his lip, wipes sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand, enjoying Junhwe’s defiance as much as he’s annoyed by it. “Say it, or I won’t let you come.” He threatens breathlessly.
Junhwe arches against Bobby, the slap of skin loud in his ears, laughing under his breath as Bobby pounds into him. Bobby’s fucking with the wrong guy, literally and figuratively, and Junhwe’s just found himself holding the game-winning ace.
“Joke’s on you, asshole.” Junhwe groans, his back arching fluidly as the heat of his orgasm spreads slowly throughout his body, readying itself to spring on him. “I don’t need you for that.”
And Junhwe comes instantly with a husky moan, almost completely untouched as he splatters the inside of his blue panties with cum, squeezing tight around Bobby’s cock as he collapses.
Bobby nearly follows him, barely holding back his own orgasm with fingers clenched tightly around the base of his cock. Part of him is pissed off that Junhwe got one over on him, while the other part is impressed and just a little proud.
This means Junhwe’s panties are in even more trouble, though.
As soon as the pressure around his cock lets up, Bobby pulls out and slips the condom off hurriedly, one hand smoothing Junhwe’s panties back over his ass while he pumps himself with the other. Wrapped in the satin fabric, Bobby pushes the head of his dick against Junhwe’s entrance just in time to catch his orgasm, back arched as he comes hard with a low growl over the back of Junhwe’s underwear.
He pulls away to survey his work, panting and staring at the mess he’s made, proud of himself for utterly ruining Junhwe’s panties. He leans over Junhwe’s back, palms pressed into the mattress on either side of Junhwe’s exhausted body.
“Naughty fucking slut,” he says, “coming on your own. I hope these weren’t a favourite pair of yours, because oppa just ruined them.”
Junhwe is too exhausted and blissed out to pay much attention to what Bobby’s saying, eyes closed and mouth open, breathing heavily. He’s pleased with himself for defying Bobby in the end, though. It’s an important step in maintaining the upper hand, as far as he’s concerned.
Still, he can’t resist the parting shot. It’s a matter of principle. “I ruined them first, asshole.”
Bobby sits back on Junhwe’s thighs, tired and content, but still playful. He pulls back one side of Junhwe’s panties again, delivering another loud slap to his ass, pleased when Junhwe growls at him. He rubs his fingers lazily over the reddened skin before pulling the panties down Junhwe’s legs and dropping them somewhere on the floor.
Then he lays down next to Junhwe and wraps an arm around him, cuddling into his back cozily. Junhwe wants to get up and move, but he stays where he is, annoyed that he likes the feel of Bobby’s heavy arm draped over his back. “I don’t cuddle.” He grumbles, defiant to the last, still unwilling to concede even the tiniest defeat to Bobby.
“Oh, yes you do.” Bobby replies, pulling Junhwe closer and smiling against his back. “If oppa wants to cuddle with you after fucking your brains out, he’s gonna do it and his slut’s gonna fucking like it.”
That remark stirs something warm and curious inside Junhwe, but he does his best to ignore it. He’s not about to acknowledge that he likes this, and he’s not about to give Bobby the satisfaction, either. “Stop calling yourself oppa, it’s embarrassing.” Junhwe mutters.
Bobby just laughs. “Oppa likes his mouthy little bitch.”
“Fuck you, hyung.”
“You just did.” Bobby sighs against his back, and Junhwe huffs once to communicate his annoyance, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape as Bobby nuzzles against the back of his neck.
Junhwe decides to ignore Bobby entirely, in the hopes that he might disappear, or maybe that he might gravitate to Hanbin in the middle of the night. He might be enjoying this, but he's definitely not enjoying this.
“Good night, slut.” Bobby says smugly.
“Shut the fuck up.” Junhwe snarls, covering his head with the pillow and groaning as Bobby burrows under it with him.
*
Junhwe wakes sometime in the early hours of the morning, stiff and sore but so satisfied, Bobby draped over his back and snoring comfortably. Junhwe lets him rest for several seconds before his brain finally clicks into low gear, and he shakes Bobby off irritably. Bobby mutters, smacking his lips sleepily, and curls closer to Junhwe than before, tossing an arm over his waist and pulling him back. Junhwe scowls, but he's too sleepy to fight it, and Bobby's too sleepy to promise much satisfaction as a chew toy.
He’s almost asleep again when Hanbin’s shriek cuts through the darkness like a knife.
“AAAAAUGH!”
Bobby jerks upright, grunting, and Junhwe almost falls out of bed. Hanbin flicks the light on, and both of them shield their eyes painfully as Hanbin hops around on the spot, wailing. “Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god!”
“Hanbin-ah, what’s wrong?” Bobby mumbles, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. Junhwe throws his arm over his eyes, groaning.
“You left your nasty cum rag on the floor and I stepped on it! What the fucking fuck, Jiwon!” Hanbin screeches, snatching up the blue panties off the floor and flinging them at Bobby. They smack him square in the face, damp and cold, and he claws them off, still dizzy with sleepiness.
“They’re Junhwe’s panties!” Bobby protests.
“Yeah, but you did that to them!” Hanbin accuses, red in the face and so furious he can hardly see straight. “Oh god, that’s fucking gross.”
Junhwe can’t help but laugh gleefully into his arm—this was exactly what he’d been hoping for. How many times had he thrown his own used tissues on the floor, silently pleading for Hanbin to step on them? For it to finally happen feels like a blessing, a perfect end to the night.
Hanbin catches Junhwe’s muffled laughter and rounds on him, snarling. “What the fuck is so funny?”
Junhwe hears the danger in Hanbin’s voice, he knows he should be careful right now, but he figures if Hanbin really loses it Bobby will step in and deal with him. Actually, after Bobby’s behavior from earlier, Junhwe would consider it sweet revenge if Hanbin does lose it. He peeks out from under his arm, grinning at Hanbin’s glaring face. “I can’t believe that you stepped on it,” he says with a sigh, “I was hoping that would happen.”
Bobby sits up and looks between Hanbin and Junhwe, panic in his eyes. “Junhwe, you might want to shut up.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Junhwe says petulantly before throwing his arm back over his face and grinning.
Hanbin is seething with anger, contemplating his options. It probably wouldn’t be smart to go after Junhwe, even though he deserves it for that comment, because his relationship with Junhwe is not built like his relationship with Bobby. This is all Bobby’s fault, anyway. Best stick to the devil he knows.
Bobby can sense Hanbin’s impending explosion, and he knows he has minimal time in order to defuse him (because his screeching up to now is nothing compared to what might follow). “Hanbin-ah—” he starts, but doesn’t get far before Hanbin cuts him off sharply.
“There is nothing you can say that will make this better.” Hanbin declares. “There is nothing you can do that will make this better.”
“But—”
Junhwe considers for a moment, and then he rolls slightly over, picking up the damp panties from Bobby’s lap and balling them up in his hand. In one swift motion, he stuffs the panties into Bobby’s open mouth, and Bobby gags instantly, rearing back in shock.
“There, does that help, hyung?” Junhwe says happily as Bobby paws at his mouth, making little sounds of disgust. Hanbin stares at Junhwe, astounded, for a full second before he doubles over, shaking with a snort of helpless laughter. “See, I shut him up and I punished him at the same time. Done.”
“What the fuck, Junhwe?” Bobby says incredulously, while Hanbin clings to the edge of the bed, still in stitches.
“You know what?” Hanbin interjects in a voice wobbly with laughter, clutching at his chest and sucking in deep breaths of air to steady himself. “You know what? Fuck both of you, you’re disgusting. I’m going to sleep with Jinhwan. You two deserve each other right now.” He wipes a tear of laughter away from his eye, then turns on his heel and leaves, shutting the door behind him but leaving the light on out of spite.
Silence reigns over the room for a moment before Junhwe laughs into the pillow. “That was entirely your fault, by the way. You threw them, so don’t even think about blaming me.”
Bobby lays next to him, simmering with silent anger. “Wasn’t going to.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t hit you.” Junhwe crows.
“Shut the fuck up.” Bobby says weakly. “I’m going to go wash.”
“Whatever.” Junhwe says, making himself comfortable ostentatiously on the pillow and stretching to take up Bobby’s spot in bed as he leaves. “Don’t forget to write.”
Bobby vanishes, hunched and sleepy-eyed and grumpy, into the bathroom, but he leaves the door open, and Junhwe waits until he hears Bobby finish brushing his teeth and the faucet turn off, before springing his checkmate on Bobby.
“Goodnight, oppa.” He calls.
“Junhwe, what the fuck.” Bobby says, his voice muffled into his towel, but Junhwe pretends to be asleep, at least until Bobby lands heavily on his back. Junhwe twists away, but Bobby’s got a grip on his neck, and his voice is hot on Junhwe’s ear as his hand moves down Junhwe’s hip to grab his ass.
“So now you wanna play?” He growls. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you like I just got out of prison.”
Junhwe can’t find it in himself to be regretful.
*
Omake
*
Junhwe hikes the laundry basket a little higher on his hip, pulling out his t-shirt drawer and scooping a stack of clean t-shirts neatly into the drawer.
A little flash of color catches his eye, a glitter of gold, and he reaches for it. It’s a small, neatly wrapped box tucked in the back of the drawer behind a wall of socks, the foiled wrapping shining in the overhead light. Junhwe sets the basket down, pulling out the box and turning it over in his hands.
To Junhwe, from Oppa.
Junhwe’s seized with a strong urge to throw the thing away at once, but his curiosity gets the better of him. He closes the bedroom door before tearing the paper off carelessly to find a small white box, about the size of a book, stamped with neat silver foil in a brand name he doesn’t recognize.
He takes the lid off, and inside is a sticky note with Bobby’s scratchy handwriting on it (I hope this makes up for ruining the blue ones. Let me see them when you try them on.) and beneath that, a pair of silky red panties trimmed with lace. Junhwe runs his fingertips over the satiny fabric, lets it slip over his fingers to land back in the box in soft folds. He laughs incredulously to himself, trying not to be too pleased but really, really fucking pleased.
Laundry forgotten, Junhwe slips into the bathroom to try them on. They fit beautifully, hugging his hips, so silky he can barely keep himself from getting hard. Junhwe doesn’t want to know how Bobby found these, but he’s not really too worried either, because they’re perfect.
Against his better judgement, he whips out his phone and takes a quick photo of them, careful to keep his dick out of it. He hesitates for a moment, still not quite willing to believe he’s doing this—after all, Bobby doesn’t need any encouragement. But Junhwe is a little excited too, and after all, it’s not every day he gets a gift like this; so he sends the picture message to Bobby before he can think better of it. It’s only fair.
Thanks
Bobby’s reply comes back swiftly.
Holy shit those r so hot!!!
Followed by a second message:
Keep them on slut im coming back right now
Junhwe rolls his eyes and taps out a message in reply.
Dont tell me what to do