exit wounds

by vmaim

Summary:

He procures a small folded note from the back pocket of his jeans.

Inside, Joshua’s neat looped handwriting says, “I, Joshua Hong, of sound and sober mind at 6:12 PM, consent to getting pierced tonight.” It’s signed with a greasy smudge Wonwoo thinks is supposed to be a lipstick kiss.

(Or, Wonwoo puts a needle in Joshua. Among other things.)

Notes:

• For mrehk.

dear hal—

happy birthday! congratulations on another lap around the sun. thank you for being my friend. I’m upholding the great tradition of fic writers everywhere by celebrating the occasion with graphic smut. I hope you enjoy <3

(edit: EVERYONE GO LOOK AT THE ART I MADE)

Someone is pounding on the shop door.

Wonwoo drags a hand over his face, trying to concentrate on the hundredth row of fish scales for this complicated backpiece. Giant koi fish are starting to swim in his vision, blurring together on his tablet screen even though he’s wearing his glasses. The repetitive ink lines are normally therapeutic, but he can’t get into a groove tonight. He’s full of unspent energy.

This late at night, the pounding can only be attributed to two things: the local biker gang is back, or Jeonghan forgot his keys and has come to keep him company.

He knows for a fact that Jeonghan is being served a three-course meal in Seungcheol’s kitchen right now. He wouldn’t stop talking about sous-vide lamb during Wonwoo’s appointment that ran over lunch today. 

That leaves option one. It’s Jihoon’s fault for agreeing to ink them the first time they came roaring into the neighbourhood, with their cigarette-ash beards and back-breaking boots. And because Wonwoo’s Harley is perpetually parked out front, everyone thinks they’re some kind of biker shop now. It took ages to convince the local halmeonis it was safe to bring their granddaughters to get their ears pierced here.

Wonwoo turns his headphones up louder and waits for them to leave.

The pounding continues. Then, through his music, he hears yelling.

“Wonu-yah! I know you’re in there!”

Oh. That’s definitely not the bikers.

Wonwoo puts down his stylus and emerges from the staff break room. The door to the shop is made of glass, and he almost falls over when he sees Joshua’s silhouette in the frame, backlit by the burnt yellow street lamps.

Joshua is one of those acquaintances he only ever sees in group settings, when someone gets a promotion, or a birthday passes, and the entire friend group assembles in one place. Joshua sweeps through those gatherings like a hurricane, bright and loud and fun, always with a new boyfriend at his side, and disappears just as quickly as he came. He’s never sought Wonwoo out on his own before.

Wonwoo unlocks the front door. “What are you doing here?”

The first thing he notices is how little Joshua has on. Summer has just begun, and the nights are brisk, and he’s only wearing a baby tee with a pair of ripped jeans.

He’s sure Joshua must be cold, but his face is flushed red. Joshua drifts closer, almost careening into Wonwoo’s frame as he walks into the shop. Wonwoo reaches out to steady him.

“Shua? What’s wrong?”

It takes Joshua three seconds too long to answer. “I want a piercing.”

Up close, Wonwoo smells the liquor on his breath.

He frowns. “First of all, we’re closed. And second of all, you’re clearly inebriated.”

Joshua pouts, walking further inside. Wonwoo doesn’t see his car keys on him, which, thank god. He must have walked here, but that doesn’t exactly put Wonwoo at ease. The area isn’t super safe, and it’s past midnight. He’ll offer him a ride home later.

“Johnny cheated on me,” Joshua says in what’s probably supposed to be a flippant tone.

Yikes. Johnny was the latest in Joshua’s string of boyfriends. He wasn’t the worst of them, by far, but Wonwoo can never find it in himself to be that charitable. Seems like Wonwoo was right this time, at least.

“Shit. How do you feel?”

Joshua sighs, leaning against Jeonghan’s tattoo bed. The studio is deserted at this hour. Wonwoo likes to stay and sketch sometimes because it’s quieter than going home. It’s Saturday night, and Mingyu undoubtedly has people over at their place to practice his latest DJ set on. Wonwoo’s not eager to wade through a sea of drunk people to get to his bedroom later.

“If he wants to run off with some blond-haired troll, that’s his decision,” Joshua says waspishly. “I’m already over it.”

Wonwoo dutifully doesn’t point out that Joshua is also blond. It just doesn’t seem like the right time.

“His loss,” Wonwoo says. “But, why are you here? Wouldn’t you rather be with Jeonghan right now?” Or calling up the ten other guys he has on his phone.

Joshua refocuses his gaze, remembering his mission. “I told you. I want a piercing.”

So, he’s here to drown his sorrows. It’s the equivalent to a self-inflicted shoddy bathroom haircut. Everyone craves change after an emotional wound.

Wonwoo approaches, nudging Joshua’s face up to the moonlight. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown. “You’ve obviously been drinking. I can’t pierce you without sober consent.”

Joshua makes a smug noise, and worms out of Wonwoo’s grasp. “Check my pocket.”

“Is that some kind of euphemism?”

“Nope.” He hops up onto a tattoo bed. “Just do it.”

Wonwoo warily reaches around him, trying not to use the excuse to feel Joshua up. He’s not some shining knight, but he’s also not about to take advantage of him right now.

“Not that one. The other one.”

He procures a small folded note from the back pocket of his jeans.

Inside, Joshua’s neat looped handwriting says, “I, Joshua Hong, of sound and sober mind at 6:12 PM, consent to getting pierced tonight.” It’s signed with a greasy smudge Wonwoo thinks is supposed to be a lipstick kiss.

Great. Joshua is looking down at him, beatifically smug, as Wonwoo reads and re-reads the note.

“It’s scented,” Joshua adds, as if that makes a difference to its legitimacy. Wonwoo brings the note up for a dubious whiff, and surely enough, it smells like vanilla cupcakes.

“So?” Joshua raises his eyebrows expectantly. Wonwoo sighs, long-suffering, and passes the note back to Joshua. He doesn’t actually mind doing it, and he needs a break from staring at Procreate anyways. But he has a reputation to uphold.

(It’s the principle of the thing. He’s six feet tall, only wears black, and rides a motorcycle to work, but no one seems to find him intimidating. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong.)

“I’m only doing this as a favour to Jeonghan,” he warns, snapping on a pair of nitrile gloves. He omits the fact that he already does Jeonghan about a million favours a day by simply not reporting him to the NTS. “Tell him I no longer owe him for Mingyu’s birthday party.”

Joshua nods eagerly, eyeing his flexing hands. Wonwoo knows he’ll probably have no recollection of this in the morning.

“What’ll it be, then? And, seriously, you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” Wonwoo grabs a spray bottle to wipe down his tattoo bed.

“I want you to pierce my nipples.”

He fumbles the paper towel roll in his hands. “What?”

Joshua cheekily flicks his chest through his tee. One, two. “I want my nipples pierced!”

Silently, Wonwoo curses Jihoon for making him take his closing shift today. If he had just left after his last client in the afternoon, none of this would be happening right now.

“You can’t just get a nipple piercing,” Wonwoo says, in a voice much calmer than how he feels.

“Why not?”

“It’s– It’s a very intensive piercing! There’s tons of aftercare involved.”

Joshua turns his nose up, affronted. “I know that. I looked it up before coming here.”

“You won’t be able to go swimming, or get into a hot tub for a month afterwards. Don’t you have plans for the summer?”

Joshua shakes his head stubbornly. “I don’t care. I want it done, tonight.”

Wonwoo narrows his eyes. “Did anyone tell you it’s one of the most painful piercings you can get?”

Joshua goes still all of a sudden.

“Stop trying to scare me,” Joshua says, and oh no, his lips are wobbling.

“I’m not trying to–” Wonwoo huffs, and puts down the paper towels. He plants both hands on the table around Joshua, trying to be stern.

“You shouldn’t get pierced impulsively.” Wonwoo ignores that he’s being a fucking hypocrite. He owes at least a quarter of his body mods to impulse decisions. “Especially not for someone else’s sake.”

Again, massive fucking hypocrite. Wonwoo got his eyebrows pierced after his ex, Haseul, made a passing comment about how it would look good on him.

But he can’t help but be– protective of Joshua. Call it instinctual, call it an overstepping of boundaries, but something about him makes Wonwoo want to shield him from all the mistakes on this mortal coil. Joshua is better than drunk impulses and revenge piercings. At least, Wonwoo thinks he deserves to be.

“You don’t get to decide that for me, dad,” Joshua says, and okay, that’s not what Wonwoo was going for. “I know what I want. It’s my body. I’m allowed to make bad decisions,” he says venomously, like there’s an entire half of the conversation Wonwoo is missing. “Can you do it, or not?”

Wonwoo sighs. In this state, he wouldn’t put it past Joshua to go over to the next late night parlour and demand they pierce him instead. At least here, Wonwoo can ensure he gets a professional, sterile job. A more selfish, less ethical portion of his brain doesn’t want some random person putting their hands on Joshua. Not tonight, at least.

“One, or both?”

Joshua cheers softly, and it shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. “Both.”

“Hop off. I need to prep the station.”

Joshua sets himself on Jihoon’s work chair as Wonwoo finishes wiping down the bed and lays out a new set of needles, discarding the plastic packaging. He flicks on his work lamp and rolls his tattooing chair over to the bed.

“Alright, come here.”

One second, he’s leaning down to swap out a new pair of gloves, and the next he’s got an eyeful of Joshua’s bare chest in front of him.

He’s muscular the way a Ken doll is, perfect armature under tan, plasticine skin. Wonwoo thinks he might be waxed smooth all the way down, until he catches sight of the coils of dark hair trailing the lower half of his navel.

Joshua’s legs are jittering against the bed, clearly nervous, but he flashes a cocksure smile at Wonwoo. “Ready!”

Wonwoo arches a brow at him. The top Joshua came in wearing is too tight to put back on afterwards. Wonwoo has a baggy t-shirt in his gym bag he can lend him– clean, thank god he skipped his morning workout.

He leans in to disinfect the area. Joshua’s nipples are cute and perky, just like the rest of him. They’re a dusky colour, blushing under the warm light of his lamp.

His workstation cuts a little island in the dark sea of the shop. The only other interior source of light is coming out of the back where Wonwoo was sketching. The scene reminds him of Nighthawks, which he got to see while doing his apprenticeship in Chicago. Lonely people in a big city, gathered under the buzzing overheads of a late night joint.

Except, Wonwoo feels anything but lonely right now. Joshua’s skin smells like the perfume from the note, but realer. The plain vanilla notes develop depth and warmth on his body. Beneath his alcohol wipe, Joshua is red-hot and alive.

Wonwoo swallows, and moves away to grab his pen.

“Tell me if you’re happy with the placement,” Wonwoo says after marking four symmetrical dots on his chest. He hands Joshua a handheld mirror and goes off to run the jewelry through the autoclave.

When he gets back, Joshua has his phone out. He turns his screen out to Wonwoo. “I’m showing Jeonghan.”

A video call request comes through. Joshua declines it.

“You’re not going to answer that?” Wonwoo asks, skeptical.

“He can text me later,” Joshua says breezily, shutting his phone off. For a split second, Wonwoo wonders if his boss is going to fire him for piercing his best friend while he’s drunk at 1AM. But then Joshua turns his full attention back onto him, and Wonwoo decides he can deal with whatever wrath Jeonghan chooses to dole out. “I’m ready.”

Wonwoo changes gloves and wheels his cart over.

“I’m going to use this clamp to isolate the skin. Then, I’m going to put the needle through, and insert the barbell at the same time.”

“So professional, Wonu-yah.” His breath hitches as Wonwoo picks up the clamps. He’ll do both in quick succession so Joshua has less time to dwell on the pain.

Wonwoo approaches with the needle. “Okay, ready?”

Joshua sucks in a breath, eyes going wide. He subtly leans back.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing–” Joshua’s eyes dart shiftily around the room, flicking back and forth at the needle in Wonwoo’s hand. “It’s nothing really, I guess– it’s kind of funny, actually–”

“Shua. Are you afraid of needles?”

He balks, and Wonwoo immediately pulls away. “Are you serious?”

Joshua whines, kicking his feet. “I wouldn’t be so nervous if you hadn’t said it’ll hurt!”

“Your nipples have hundreds of nerve endings in them, of course it’ll hurt!”

“But you didn’t have to make such a big deal out of it!” Joshua is working himself up to a full strop, but Wonwoo recognizes it for what it is. He’s anxious.

Wonwoo, very professionally, refrains from scrubbing a hand over his face. He sighs, standing up between Joshua’s legs instead. He grabs ahold of his chin, forcing Joshua to look up at him.

Unshed tears sparkle in his eyes. Wonwoo tuts.

“Listen. I’ll take care of you, hm? I won’t let anything bad happen to you, even if it hurts for a second.”

Joshua blinks up at him, lips gently parted. Wonwoo resists the urge to drag his thumb over it.

“You can be brave for me, right? Are you going to take it?”

Dumbly, Joshua nods. His tongue darts out for a second, and Wonwoo’s gaze flickers to catch the movement. Slowly, he brushes the tip of his thumb over Joshua’s lower lip.

Joshua’s sobered up a bit since coming in, but his pupils are still huge. He opens his mouth wider, slightly, and this time Wonwoo places his gloved thumb right onto his tongue.

“You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” He presses down, and a bit of drool pools inside Joshua’s lower lip. Wonwoo stares at it, hard, letting it flood over his glove. Joshua just looks back at him, breathless, like there’s a short supply of oxygen in the room.

“That’s it. Be a good girl.”

Wonwoo takes his hand away completely, and snaps on a fresh pair of gloves.

He wheels back in on his chair, steadying the needle between his fingers. Joshua tenses beneath his touch, and Wonwoo tuts again.

“Don’t look down, look at me. Uh huh. Take a deep breath.”

In goes the first needle, like butter. Wonwoo screws in the jewelry and moves onto the second nipple.

“Halfway done, you’re being such an angel. Deep breath.”

Wonwoo files away the soft, wounded noise Joshua makes above him into an unlabelled folder in his brain.

Just like that, there are two shining barbells threaded through Joshua’s nipples.

Wonwoo cleans him up, wiping away a stray bit of blood and the dots of ink. He hands him the mirror.

“You did it.”

Joshua looks at them in the reflection, turning to let the light catch the sterling silver this way and that. “I… love them,” he says, awestruck.

Wonwoo forces himself to look away from the sight. He busies himself with disposing of his tools. Maybe he’ll end up joining Mingyu at home, after all. He needs a drink.

“What do you think, Wonu-yah?” Joshua turns to him, eyes shining. His lips are mottled pink from being squeezed between his teeth.

Wonwoo doesn’t have the heart to lie. “They look good,” he admits. Joshua’s next boyfriend will love them.

He isn’t going to delude himself into thinking there’s something here. Joshua always has been, and still is, unattainable.

Joshua twirls around a bit, going to look at himself in the full length mirror propped up next to the studio door. He takes a couple of selfies before flouncing back.

“I’m so happy,” he says, eyes squeezing into little half moons. “Thank you.”

Wonwoo waves him off. “Don’t put your shirt back on, I have a loose one you can change into. And wait here while I grab some pamphlets on aftercare.”

“Wait,” Joshua tugs at his wrist before Wonwoo can turn away.

The studio goes quiet all of a sudden, like the vacuum of space. Slowly, he winds Wonwoo in so they’re standing chest to chest.

Joshua looks up at him, eyes mercurial. He’s shy, all of a sudden. Then, he tilts forward, closing the gap between their lips.

“What are you doing?” Wonwoo asks, jerking backwards.

“Thanking you properly,” Joshua murmurs, threading a hand through his hair to bring them closer together.

“Stop, stop–”

Joshua’s brow furrows.

“You’re drunk, still,” Wonwoo stammers, “A-and fresh off a breakup, I can’t–”

Joshua sighs, sliding his arms off of him. He turns and leans over the tattoo bed, planting his hands on the cracked vinyl.

“Check my back pocket,” he says, cocking his hip.

Wonwoo scoffs, and deliberately does not stare at his ass. “I’m not falling for this.”

Joshua rolls his eyes and reaches into his own pocket. He produces a second folded note, and passes it to Wonwoo.

I, Joshua Hong, of sober state and mostly sound mind, consent to having sex with Jeon Wonwoo after he pierces my nipples tonight. (12.6.25)

Wonwoo looks up from the note, incredulously agape. “You planned this?”

“I told you, I know what I want,” Joshua says, grabbing Wonwoo by the collar while his mind is still reeling. He doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“And what I want is for you to take care of me.” He looks at Wonwoo meaningfully. “Jeonghan said you’re good at that. Taking care of people.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wonwoo told Jeonghan once, after one too many beers at a studio Christmas party, that he figured out he was a dom after an oddly charged wrestling session with Haseul. He didn’t think much of it at the time, Jeonghan had laughed and told him about the time Seungcheol tried taking control and ended up crying in his lap. In his own opinion, Wonwoo’s sexual proclivities are hardly of note, especially when plastered next to the depraved things he’s heard about Soonyoung and Chan’s relationship. Most, if not all of it, against his will. He’s never going to try electrosex or vacuum bondage, but he knows what he likes. Wonwoo thinks he’s almost vanilla, in the grand scheme of things.

It didn’t occur to him that this scrap of information would eventually make its way into Joshua’s lap. Nevermind that it would pique his interest.

“Now, are you going to fuck me, or do I need to find someone else to do that, too?”

Wonwoo’s brain takes a moment to spin and reset, all the gears clicking back into place after recalibration.

Joshua has shoved him onto the bed, and is now climbing all over him, hands running wantonly over Wonwoo’s chest, feeling him up through the thin layer of his t-shirt.

“What I want is for you to take care of me,” Joshua had said.

Before his thoughts can catch up to him, Wonwoo snatches his wrists still. He gathers them against Joshua’s chest, careful not to jostle his fresh piercings.

“This is what you want?” Wonwoo asks, low and dangerous.

Joshua makes a half-hearted attempt to shake himself free, but from the way his breath catches in his throat, he doesn’t want to be.

Wonwoo maneuvers them so Joshua is the one laying down on the bed. Experimentally, Wonwoo lifts Joshua’s wrists one by one, pressing them above his head. Then, he leans down, giving Joshua ample opportunity to turn away, and captures his mouth in a whisper of a kiss. Joshua opens up for him, lips parting immediately, moaning gently into his mouth. When Wonwoo lets go, his wrists stay obediently in place.

“Good. Will you be good for me?” Wonwoo breathes.

Joshua arches a brow, challenging despite everything. “That depends. Are you going to put something inside me before I wither away?”

“The mouth on you,” Wonwoo mutters to himself, walking further into the studio. He rummages around the supply drawer, and comes away with what he’s looking for– a tub of vaseline and the spare hairbrush Jeonghan keeps lying around. Wonwoo sends him a silent apology, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He finds Joshua in the same position he left him in, albeit squirming around more.

“You sure you want this?” Wonwoo asks, setting down his supplies. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Joshua notices the hairbrush, the red flush that creeps down his chest. “Never too late to back out.”

Joshua glares at him, defiant. “I want you to get on with it, already.”

Wonwoo huffs in amusement, stepping up beside Joshua’s head lolling to the side. “Are you always this impatient, or am I just special?” It’s a rhetorical question, because Wonwoo is squeezing Joshua’s cheeks open and stuffing two fingers into his mouth before he can answer.

It would be filthy regardless, but something about the contrast of Wonwoo’s black gloves against the dulcet interior of Joshua’s mouth feels especially obscene. He looks indecent, the intrusion stretching his lips wide, his gums pink and glistening under the light. Right now, Joshua is undoubtedly tasting the remnants of disinfectant on his glove, the lingering traces of metal, possibly even his own blood. Wonwoo’s rough hand and Joshua’s mild bearing, with just a thin layer of nitrile between them.

Joshua’s struggle dies out as quickly as it started. It feels vulnerable, Wonwoo knows, to be spread out under his work lamp, hands above his head, having his soft palate invaded in this seemingly careless manner. The speed with which Joshua allows him inside opens a sublime pit inside Wonwoo. The dom headspace is as easy as anything to slip into– it’s always there beneath the surface, humming like a live-wire.

So Wonwoo takes his time, running the pads of his fingers over the topography of every tooth, scraping a nail over the inside of his cheek, lazily petting his tongue as saliva overflows the corners of Joshua’s lips, dribbling down his chin. Wonwoo explores every corner of his mouth, never reaching deep enough to choke but not exactly being gentle, either. He lets the nakedness of Joshua’s position do the work for him.

Sure enough, Joshua is soon blinking back tears, lashes webbed together, pliant like newspaper soaked in the rain. Every wet sound is amplified in the quiet of the studio, the ragged breaths and involuntary noises escaping from Joshua’s throat. Wonwoo knows that the quiet limbo of his tattoo bed has turned into a meat grinder, every tenderizing sensation penetrating twice as deep, drowning out the noise in his skull. It’s exactly where he wants Joshua to be.

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out, letting the cold lines of connecting spit drape haphazardly across Joshua’s face. A garbled moan drones out before Joshua can stop himself. His cheeks are a live red.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wonwoo murmurs, breaking the rigid silence. He allows his spit-slick hand to trail down Joshua’s neck, squeezing at the base of his throat for a second just to see his eyes bulge, before continuing on his path downwards.

Joshua glowers at him, somehow managing to project arrogance with his own spit across his face.

“Are you going to keep talking shit, or are you going to touch me?”

Wonwoo sucks his teeth, fingers skimming over the waistband of Joshua’s jeans. His tone is insouciant, but his abdomen betrays him, flexing with great tension. Wonwoo likes how his hands look framing the sweet nip of Joshua’s waist, simply like they belong there.

“Has anyone told you you’re so pretty here?”

And that opens up a flush across Joshua’s face, jaw falling open indignantly. Wonwoo pats himself on the back for predicting a praise kink that, to be honest, could probably have been seen from space.

“Fuck off,” Joshua grits, bright red.

He crows internally. “No, I’m serious. You’re perfect. It’s like you were made for me,” Wonwoo says, running an admiring hand down his flank.

That keeps Joshua’s head spinning long enough for him to flick open the button at his waistband, undoing the zipper fly. Wonwoo imagines if he weren’t wearing the gloves he could feel the rough texture of the denim, the cool metal of the rivets. It would only emphasize the warmth of Joshua’s skin, radiating heat through the nitrile.

Wonwoo has never fingered someone with exam gloves on before, but he thinks he’ll try something new today. He tugs the rest of Joshua’s clothes off, setting them neatly in a pile on his chair.

Joshua is starting to squirm again, now completely naked under the spotlight. They’re near the back of the studio, but the windows don’t have blinds on them, meaning anyone walking past the storefront could potentially look inside and spot them.

“You can move your hands now, if you want,” Wonwoo offers, untwisting the jar of vaseline and scooping some out with his knuckle. “You’re being very good so far.”

Joshua makes a frustrated growl, pulling his arms down. He gives his chest a wide berth, freshly stinging as they probably are. Wonwoo knows the comedown from a body piercing all too well. His body probably feels like an electric fence.

Joshua writhes on the table like there’s an itch he can’t scratch. “You… I need–”

“What is it? Use your words,” Wonwoo says.

He clams up, egregiously stubborn.

Wonwoo has his guesses, but he wants to hear Joshua say it. He bullies his legs apart with the hand not covered in vaseline.

“What is it you need? I can’t give it to you unless you tell me,” Wonwoo says patiently, as if he were explaining the concept to a five year old.

Joshua scowls, lips pressed shut. Then, with great effort, he looks off to the side and mumbles something unintelligible.

“What? I’m getting old, you have to speak up.”

“I said you can be rougher. If you want,” Joshua spits, as if it’s a personal affront to have to voice his desires aloud.

Wonwoo doesn’t school his features quickly enough to stop the corners of his lips from ticking up. He prods his tongue against his cheek.

“Oh, so that’s how it is? And here I was under the impression you wanted me to be sweet. I guess all sluts are the same.”

Joshua covers his face at that, tilting his head away.

“Nuh uh, none of that. Let me see you.”

Reluctantly, he peels his fingers away. His face is crimson.

Wonwoo circles his rim, pushing in one finger to start.

He whines, “Fuck, Wonwoo. More.”

“What do you say?”

Joshua grunts, trying to angle his hips closer. “More, now.”

Wonwoo brings a hand down on his inner thigh. It crackles through the air like cannonfire.

“Try again.”

Joshua swallows a gasp, panting a bit harder than before.

“More, please,” he snarks.

Wonwoo brings his hand down two more times, just to see the light pink mark start to bloom. Then he adds a second finger, scissoring them apart, although Joshua doesn’t need much prep. It’s more of a formality.

“Do you always take this long, grandpa?” Joshua breathes, furious. His dick is drooling against his stomach, but he makes no move to touch himself, Wonwoo notes. “I swear to god if you don’t put your dick inside me soon, I’m going to scream–”

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says, shoving a third finger inside, the squelch from his gloves lurid. “I thought I just heard you giving orders. But that would be absurd, right? Because you’re not in charge here.”

He removes his hand completely, watching Joshua’s hole clench and gape around nothing. His own dick gives an aborted twitch in his trousers.

Wonwoo tamps down his flare of desire, grabbing Joshua’s ankles and pushing them up until he’s completely spread open on the table. His ass is perfectly unmarred, smooth skin begging to be ruined. Slowly, Wonwoo picks up the hairbrush.

He hears Joshua’s intake of breath instead of seeing it.

“How many do you think it’ll take? To earn it?” Wonwoo places the back of the hairbrush against his ass, like he’s teeing up a golf swing. He gives it an experimental smack, fairly gentle, just to gauge Joshua’s reaction. His lashes flutter, a soft moan floating from his lips.

“Let’s see. You came and interrupted me twelve minutes past midnight. I think twelve sounds fair, doesn’t it?” Wonwoo says, watching him carefully.

Joshua whimpers, fidgeting in his grip. He’s still fairly lucid.

“I need to hear the words. How about a ‘yes’ or ‘no, Wonwoo’?”

“Yes,” Joshua whispers, barely audible.

Wonwoo grins, leaning in just to be an asshole. “What was that?”

He looks like he wants to curse him out, badly. Instead, Joshua bites out a “Yes, hyung,” and fuck if that doesn’t make his cock jump.

“The goddamn mouth on you,” Wonwoo mutters, ears pink, and brings the hairbrush down.

Joshua takes it beautifully, face and chest flushed pink, scores of hitching sobs and soft whimpers pouring from him like litanies. His skin blooms to life underneath the paddle, first soft pink, then a darker shade of red.

When Wonwoo lands the last smack, twin sets of tears are spilling over Joshua’s lashes.

“There we go,” Wonwoo coos, setting the hairbrush down, flexing his hands. They’re sweaty beneath the gloves, but oddly enough, the rest of him feels worse. He leans over, brushing Joshua’s tears away with his thumb, head ducking to plant a soft kiss between his eyelids. “You took that so well.”

“Will you fuck me now?” Joshua mumbles, pout bitten adorably red. He sniffles a bit.

“Yeah, whatever you want,” Wonwoo promises, pressing kisses to the corners of his mouth. He’s not sure how much longer he could have held out, anyways. “Been so good for me, Shua.”

He stands up, unbuckling his belt and taking himself in hand with a hiss. He’s surprised he’s managed to stay standing for so long with such little blood left for his brain.

Joshua watches with a hungry look in his eyes as Wonwoo uses some of his own precum to spread around his hole, though it’s still slippery from the vaseline. He yanks him by the ankles so Joshua’s lying at the edge of the table, and lines himself up with his entrance.

“Ready?”

“At this point, I think I’ll pass away before–”

Wonwoo sinks inside.

To say that Joshua feels incredible is an understatement. He’s tight, and velvety soft, and hot.

Joshua keens, hands coming up to grip the bed for leverage. “Fuck, that’s–”

“Good? Yeah? Is this what you needed, baby?” Wonwoo croons, slowly building up a pace. The hinges on the table start to squeak. “You just needed something plugging you up to feel better, huh?”

There’s a lot less talking from that point forward.

Joshua’s speech devolves as he’s reduced to a babbling mess on Wonwoo’s cock. He’s gone sweet for him all of a sudden, looking up at Wonwoo with those watery doe eyes, mewling cutely as Wonwoo feeds him his dick over, and over again. No one would ever guess what an incorrigible brat Joshua was acting like just a second ago.

All of Wonwoo’s concentration is being put towards making this good for him. He tries a couple different angles before finding the one that makes Joshua curse the loudest, the head of his cock brushing up against his prostate when they’re pressed together from hip to thigh.

“There, fuck,” Joshua throws his head back, a sheen of sweat beginning to coat his straining muscles. “Right– uhn, there, uhn, please, don’t stop–”

Wonwoo reaches up to grip his jaw, forcing his thumb into Joshua’s pink mouth. He moans around the intrusion.

“Such an eager slut,” Wonwoo puffs. Joshua blinks at him, tearily sucking on a mouthful of black nitrile. “You don’t like it when I’m nice, do you? Want me to be mean? Treat you like a toy that’s mine to break?”

Wonwoo takes his hand out, smacking his cheek lightly. Joshua moans loudly, so he does it again, a bit harder this time.

“H-hyung,” Joshua whines, voice having gone all wobbly. His cheeks are stained pink, like a napkin full of berries. “S-s’good, hyung…”

Wonwoo grits his teeth, digging his fingers into his hips for leverage.

“You like that? Tell hyung what you need.”

His hips piston faster, in and out, in and out, in and out…

“T-touch me, please,” Joshua begs, “I can’t– I need–”

He spits on his glove and takes Joshua’s cock in his palm, using the excessive precum to make the glide easier. Joshua shouts, bearing down around him, and white sparks go off behind his eyelids.

“I– I’m close,” Joshua breathes shakily, toes scrambling for leverage at the edge off the table. He has really pretty feet, Wonwoo notes absentmindedly, they look soft, and his toes are painted a translucent pink, and he’s never really thought of himself as a foot person, but– Joshua clenches around him again, and he loses the train of thought.

Joshua is panting, cute teeth digging into his lip. “Can… can you…”

“What? What do you want, bunny?”

He makes a long, reluctant sound that jumps an octave higher as Wonwoo swipes a thumb over the head of his weeping cock.

“C-can you put… put your hands… around my n-neck?”

Wonwoo’s vision goes dark at the edges. Fumblingly, he places a hand at Joshua’s collar.

“Yeah? Is this what you want?” He squeezes, not hard enough to block off his airway, but enough for Joshua to feel it. Joshua nods as much as he can, euphoric. Wonwoo squeezes again, and his eyes roll to the ether, lids twitching.

“I-I’m g’nna come, please, please, can I come?” Joshua chants.

Wonwoo growls, thighs aching from exhaustion. “What do you say?”

A fresh round of tears leaks over his cheeks. Wonwoo wants to lick them off.

“Please, hyung,” he sniffles.

Wonwoo leans forward and does just that, the wetness salty on his tongue.

“Good girl,” he grunts, and squeezes his neck once more before grasping Joshua’s dick, pumping it in time with his thrusts.

He watches the entire glory of it in slow motion, Joshua’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, chest seizing, studs on his puffy nipples shining like diamonds, and the most beautiful noises Wonwoo has ever heard falling from his mouth as Joshua comes all over his trembling hands.

Wonwoo’s own orgasm drenches him all at once, sucker punching him at the core, all of the stars behind his eyelids breaking into a million pieces. His last coherent thought is to not risk the fresh piercings, so he comes buried deep inside Joshua, spilling his load like he’s giving up his lifeforce.

The aftershocks recede like sound waves from a bomb.

Wonwoo doesn’t register how long he stays there catching his breath until Joshua starts grousing underneath him, shifting around uncomfortably.

With great effort, Wonwoo pulls out of him with a lewd squelch, his dick giving a valiant twitch as he watches come drip out of his abused hole.

He blinks, attention shifting to Joshua. “Are… are you okay, Shua?”

Joshua huffs, flopping onto his back.

“What the hell was that?” He whines, eyes squeezing shut.

Wonwoo’s stomach drops.

“I-I’m sorry–”

“Seriously, you have a problem.”

“Oh god, I know, I-I got carried away—”

“I mean, who does stuff like that?”

The shame is so potent it threatens to crawl up and choke him. Wonwoo feels like he’s about to cry. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you, I swear—”

“Come home with me,” Joshua says, imploringly.

Wonwoo freezes, teetering on the verge of a panic attack. “What?”

“Clean me up and take me home,” Joshua repeats, wiggling impatiently. “And get me a warm rag, I swear to god, or I’m going to catch a cold and you’ll have to make me soup, and Jeonghan says you can’t cook for shit.”

“I can make instant noodles,” Wonwoo says faintly.

“And my nipples are sore,” Joshua pouts, as if that’s somehow Wonwoo’s fault, which he supposes, yes, actually, it is. “Be a man and take responsibility for your actions, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He’s getting emotional whiplash. “S-so, you’re okay? I didn’t permanently scar you?”

Joshua glares up at him through one eye. “You’ve permanently ruined me for other dick. But yes, I’m okay.”

Wonwoo’s heart gives an ashen sigh of relief. Joshua is going to kill him before natural selection gets the chance. “Thank god.”

Joshua pouts again. “I’m cold,” he says plaintively.

Wonwoo almost falls over in his haste. He’s usually so much better at the aftercare portion, but Joshua has him completely off his game.

He comes back with a warm wet towel, his clean shirt, and an extra hoodie he keeps at the studio, and insists on disinfecting Joshua’s piercings one more time before he puts the shirt on.

“I’m not sure if you’re up for it, I could just call us a taxi, but– I rode my bike today, and I have an extra helmet…?”

Joshua wriggles into the hoodie, drowning in the fabric. He emerges from the neckhole, head cocked like a puppy. “You have a bike?”

 

Betsey roars to life under the streetlamp outside. Joshua looks like a kid in a candy factory.

“You have a bike.”

Wonwoo gives Joshua his leather jacket, insisting he’ll be warm enough in his hoodie. He’s half bluffing– he runs cold– but it’s worth it to see the way the jacket settles over Joshua’s shoulders, the sleeves coming all the way down to his fingertips. When Wonwoo pulls out his leather riding gloves, he thinks they might have a whole new incident on their hands. Literally. He tells Joshua, very sternly, that he’s not allowed to try anything while riding. Joshua settles for groping at Wonwoo’s chest from behind, plastered at his back like a limpet.

“Do you take all your girls on rides like this?” Joshua asks over his shoulder at a red light. Wonwoo insists on waiting the full minute for it to turn green, despite the streets being completely deserted at this hour. He cares about road safety, sue him. Joshua squeezes his left pec, making a small honking noise as he lets go. It’s the fifth time he’s done it.

Wonwoo chooses not to mention this is the first time anyone’s been on his bike since Haseul broke up with him.

“Mingyu sits in the basket, sometimes,” he jokes.

Joshua tilts his head, resting his cheek on his back. “I thought he couldn’t ride a bike?”

 

 

 

Seven hours later, Wonwoo awakens to a phone buzzing next to his cheek.

He answers it without looking. “H’llo?”

There’s a long pause on the line.

“…Wonwoo?” It’s Jeonghan.

“Yeah?”

A pause.

“You’re fired.”

Wonwoo cranes his neck, checking the clock on the nightstand. It’s 10AM.

“Why?”

Jeonghan sounds apoplectic. “For starters, I had to explain to a client why there was dried cum on your chair today.”

Wonwoo was really only concerned with cleaning Joshua up last night. Guess he missed a spot.

“And I don’t even want to know what my hairbrush was doing at your station,” Jeonghan hisses through the line.

Wonwoo grimaces.

“So, you’re fired,” Jeonghan says primly.

He lets his eyes fall shut again. “You can’t fire me. We’re a co-op.”

Jeonghan is petulantly silent on the other end. “You’re mopping the floors for a month.”

Wonwoo stops himself from pointing out that he mops the floor most days anyways. He’s pretty sure the rest of them don’t even know where the broom closet lives.

“M’kay,” he mumbles.

“Give Shua his phone back.”

Wonwoo squints, and realizes the phone he’s holding has a decoden Cinnamaroll case on it. He glances down at Joshua, who’s sound asleep against his chest.

“He can’t talk right now.”

Jeonghan sounds downright murderous. “Wonwoo—!”

“Because he’s asleep!” He rushes to clarify. Joshua stirs a bit, murmuring slightly, and Wonwoo lowers his voice to a hush. “Geez, what do you take me for? I’ll tell him to call you back later, okay?”

Jeonghan sighs. There’s some shuffling, and his voice comes back, quieter this time.

“Do I need to be worried for him?”

“Him?” Wonwoo watches Joshua’s face in his sleep, innocent as an angel’s. Looks have never been so deceiving. “It’s me you should be worried about.”

He can hear Jeonghan’s eye roll.

Wonwoo sighs. “No, I mean. It’s his choice, really. You know how I feel.”

Jeonghan makes a sympathetic noise. “Shua may seem tough, but he’s got a soft centre,” he says. “I don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

“Hyung,” Wonwoo murmurs.

“I know you’re not the type to go into things without a contingency plan, but promise me you’ll be careful, okay? I trust you. Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t, hyung.” The tender part of him is still stinging.

Jeonghan makes a satisfied noise. “Good. Now get your ass to the studio, because I’m not touching that cum stain.”

“Hyuuung.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 months later

 

“Be gentle!” Joshua hisses at him.

Wonwoo is rinsing his piercings with saline solution the same way he always does, with the precision and care of a bomb technician. Joshua insists on making him disinfect them every time, saying Wonwoo has to “follow through on the maintenance of his purchase.” Whatever that means.

They’re pretty much healed at this point, but he still checks up on them once in a while. It’s equally an excuse to see Joshua shirtless as it is for him to boss Wonwoo around.

“Hold still,” Wonwoo instructs, patting away the excess drips with a towel. He gently rotates the barbells a couple of times. “Okay, you’re all done.”

Joshua kicks his feet against the bathroom cabinets. He’s sitting on top of the sink counter.

“Would you say, in your professional judgement, that my nipples have healed by now?”

Last week Joshua swapped out his steel starter jewelry for a pair of gemstone barbells. They’re fourteen karat gold, and they have tiny cherries on either end.

“Your piercing is healing from the outside in, so even if it looks and feels healed, the inner fistula will still be a couple of months,” Wonwoo recites dutifully.

Joshua whines, very dramatically, in his opinion. “I want you to put your mouth on them already.”

“My mouth has seven hundred different species of bacteria living inside it,” Wonwoo says reasonably, kneeling in front of him to put the solution away. He will be a responsible practitioner ‘til the very end, no matter what his dick is telling him to do. “We wouldn’t want to risk an infection, would we?”

Joshua arches an eyebrow from above him. “And what about my mouth, huh? Are you saying that I’m dirty?”

Wonwoo swats at his ankles so he can get into the cabinets below.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a filthy brat. Move your legs.”

Joshua nudges his hands out of the way so that he can press his bare feet against the crotch of Wonwoo’s sweatpants. He wiggles his toes.

“Maybe you can put your mouth on something else in the meantime,” Joshua says, waggling his eyebrows.

Wonwoo laughs nervously, and hopes that Joshua doesn’t feel the way his dick twitches under the ball of his foot.

Joshua’s eyes light up. 

Notes:

sooo everyone saw that choking video right...? with joshua and the big strong man...? I feel like a seer

did I set myself up to write a sequel where joshua seeks to viciously uncover wonwoo’s deeply buried foot fetish? yes, it seems like I did.

thank you for reading!! comments keep me going!!

happy birthday hal ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

once more if you missed it please go look at my ART💕

come say hi on twitter

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter