8 makes multiple scenarios (Ateez OS)

by AdesifXIII

Summary:

Just a bunch of One Shot of Ateez because I'm obsessed with them and it's been a while since I've written things like this.
Mainly focus on the sex, but I also create a bit of atmosphere/context/story to each of my OS because I prefer it that way too! It adds something to the sex :D

Don't hesitate to leave some suggestions, I'm always open to trying more things.
I'm updating and doing a lot of dumb posts on Twitter, if you want follow me there ! : @AdesifXIII

Chapter 1: Presentation !

Okay so welcome to my first ever AO3 upload!

I have been writing for a while now but it's my first time on here; I hope I won't be too lost.

This OS series started after the Pepero game between Yunho and Wooyoung (what a moment) and now I have multiple ideas on the way! I loved to write the Yunwoo; it's been a while since I've written something spicy; I missed it.

Fyi, for the moment, I have the Yunwoo, a Matz one is on the way and for the other ideas I have (for the moment) : Yungi, Yungi/Woo, Yeosang/Woo, Woosan/Yeosang, Matz/Yeosang, Hongjoong/Mingi, Woosan, Matz...

I have some drafts :D

I hope I'll be able to keep up, because I also have a pirate AU on the side (you won't see it until a LOOOONG time bc it's a serious story where I really take the time to analyse and to build it the way I want.) But since this series is only some OS, it should be fine!

Hope you'll stay with me for more and don't forget to leave your opinion on my writing and all. I'm open for feedback, positive or not - it helps improve.

Enjoy your day and I hope my OS will make you kick your feet and giggle the way I did while writing them lol

Chapter 2: Record Breaker/Yunwoo

Summary:

A little Yunwoo to start this series.
It was a MUST to write something after the pepero game of Yunho and Wooyoung.
Hope you'll enjoy it!

      The set was alive with energy—laughter bouncing off the walls, the bright lights making every expression a little more dramatic for the cameras. The group was gathered in a loose circle, seated casually but buzzing with anticipation as today’s mission segment began.

At the center of it all stood Yunho, holding the cue card with a grin that spelled trouble.

“Alright, everyone,” he announced, voice filled with mock authority as he faced the camera, “today’s mission is a classic. One we all know... and some of you fear.”

A few members groaned on cue. San threw his head back with a dramatic “Not this again,” while Mingi practically curled into himself laughing.

Yunho lifted a slim box from behind his back and held it up proudly. “The Pepero Game.”

A chorus of hoots and mock protests filled the room. Jongho muttered something about canceling the show, and Wooyoung snorted from his seat, shaking his head. “We’re really doing that today?”

“Oh, we’re not just doing it,” Yunho said, flipping the cue card with flair, “we’re trying to break a record.”

He tapped the card with his finger. “The current record is 6 millimeters. Think you can beat that?”

The members exchanged glances, most of them already planning how to avoid participating.

Yunho let the moment hang before dramatically placing the card down and straightening up.

“I’ll go first.”

The room erupted.

“Yah, you’re the MC!” Hongjoong shouted, laughing.

“And now I’m a competitor,” Yunho said, cool and unbothered, already peeling open the box of Pepero sticks. “It’s called range.”

He turned, slowly, deliberately, scanning the group. Then, with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyes landed on Wooyoung.

“You.”

Wooyoung blinked. “Me?”

“You’re my partner,” Yunho said, holding out the stick. “Let’s make history.”

Wooyoung raised a brow, lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh—or maybe a challenge. “You sure you can handle it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Yunho shot back, stepping closer.

The other members were already howling, some chanting, others covering their eyes.

But neither Yunho nor Wooyoung looked away.

“Come on,” Yunho said softly, Pepero stick between his fingers now. “Let’s see how close we can get.”

Wooyoung took a breath like he was gearing up for battle, rolling his shoulders before stepping forward. Yunho put the Pepero game in between his teeths, looking down at Wooyoung who cocked an eyebrow.

The smaller one just grinned and leaned in, taking the other end between his teeth, eyes locked on Yunho’s the entire time.

The room quieted—well, as much as it could with eight chaotic idols present. San was already buried in Hongjoong’s shoulder to avoid screaming, and Jongho had started recording on his phone, whispering something about blackmail.

“Start… now!” one of the staff called out off-camera.

Wooyoung began to nibble inward, slow at first, more out of amusement than any real rush. Yunho never broke eye contact, even as the space between them started to shrink, as Wooyoung looked at the Pepero to see the distance.

Ten centimeters.

Seven.

Five.

Wooyoung’s expression twitched—whether it was nerves or laughter, Yunho couldn’t tell. But he didn’t pull back. Neither of them did. Instead, Yunho tilted his head just slightly, just enough to brush noses.

Three centimeters.

One and a half.

The stick trembled between them.

And then—

Snap .

Wooyoung pulled back with a startled laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. “You moved,” he accused.

“I didn’t move!” Yunho said, grinning wide, though his ears were tinged suspiciously pink.

“You definitely moved,” Wooyoung said, but he was laughing now, head tilted back as the other members erupted into chaos around them.

“Replay the footage!” Mingi shouted, cackling. “That was 100% a flinch!”

“Was not,” Yunho muttered, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. “I was cool the entire time.”

“You were blushing, ” Wooyoung fired back.

“No proof.”

“Oh, we have plenty of proof,” San chimed in, already looking through Jongho’s phone.

Despite the noise, Yunho’s eyes flicked back to Wooyoung, and for a split second, the teasing faded. Just for a moment.

“You wanna try again?” he asked quietly.

Wooyoung paused, his smile softening just a bit.

“…Maybe.”

The teasing continued around them, members shouting half-joking accusations and wild reenactments like it was some dramatic K-drama scene. But Wooyoung barely heard them now.

His eyes were still on Yunho.

Yunho, who was biting back a grin, one brow lifted like he was daring him. Again.

“Round two?” Yunho asked, voice just loud enough for him to hear over the noise.

Wooyoung tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. “Didn’t know you were that desperate to break a record.”

Yunho laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Don’t twist my words,” Wooyoung shot back, trying to sound smug—but the heat creeping into his cheeks gave him away.

Yunho reached into the box and pulled out another Pepero, holding it between two fingers as he stepped a little closer. Close enough that Wooyoung had to look up to meet his gaze properly.

Wooyoung hesitated. Then, with a sharp exhale that turned into a crooked smile, he snatched the stick from Yunho’s hand and bit down on one end again.

“This time,” he said through a mouthful of chocolate biscuit, “don’t mess it up.”

“Oh, so it was my fault?” Yunho replied, already taking the other end between his lips, a spark in his eyes. “Noted.”

The others had caught on that something was definitely happening now—Hongjoong raised an eyebrow from the side, Mingi and San were whispering conspiratorially, and Yeosang just muttered, “We’re never going to hear the end of this if they win.”

But the world seemed to narrow for the two in the center of it all. As soon as the second round began, everything around them faded into background noise.

This time, they moved faster.

Five centimeters.

Three.

Two.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched just slightly as Yunho’s gaze dropped—not to his mouth, not to the Pepero, but lower, somewhere softer. Closer.

Out of instinct more than thought, Wooyoung’s hand moved, settling gently at the crook of Yunho’s neck, fingers curling as he tugged him in, slow and soft.

One centimeter.

And neither of them pulled back.

Their lips brushed. Barely.

But they felt it.

That whisper of contact—just the faintest brush of lips—froze the moment in place. Wooyoung didn’t move. Couldn’t. His breath caught somewhere in his chest, eyes wide, staring into Yunho’s like he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened.

Then—

Snap.

The Pepero broke again.

Yunho pulled back just a little, the remnant of the stick falling between them. Silence followed—just for a second—before Wooyoung let out a sharp breath through his nose.

“…You moved,” he said, voice quieter now. Not accusing. Just… stating.

Yunho laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I did.”

The room had erupted into chaos again—Seonghwa shouting something about replays, Jongho howling in secondhand embarrassment—but it all blurred into background noise.

Yunho looked down at the box of Pepero in his hands.

Then back at Wooyoung.

“You want to stop?” he asked, voice low. Calm. Honest.

Wooyoung looked at him, searching for something. But whatever it was, he didn’t find it—or maybe he did. Because he didn’t speak. Didn’t nod. Didn’t joke.

He just stepped forward.

A little closer.

And stood still.

Silent permission.

Yunho’s eyes softened.

No teasing now.

Just him, reaching for another stick. Slowly, he placed it between his lips and stepped toward Wooyoung again, not saying a word as he held it out in offering.

Wooyoung leaned forward slightly, meeting it without hesitation, teeth closing gently around the other end. He didn’t break eye contact.

Didn’t move.

This time, Yunho did all the work.

One small step closer.

Then another.

They weren’t laughing anymore. The world felt quieter now, somehow—despite the noise around them. Every centimeter disappeared with Yunho’s slow, deliberate movements, his gaze flickering only briefly between Wooyoung’s eyes and his mouth.

Five centimeters.

Three.

Two.

Wooyoung didn’t flinch.

Didn’t lean in.

Didn’t lean away.

Just waited.

One.

The stick bent slightly between them, trembling. Yunho tilted his head—not dramatically, not for show—just enough that his nose barely grazed Wooyoung’s. His lips parted.

A breath passed between them.

Snap.

Wooyoung blinked as the broken end of the Pepero fell again. Yunho’s lips were just a breath away from his, his expression unreadable.

“You flinched,” Wooyoung murmured, barely audible.

“I didn’t,” Yunho said, smiling softly. “That was you.”

Wooyoung didn’t argue.

He couldn’t.

Not with Yunho still that close, eyes still on him like the challenge wasn’t about the Pepero anymore.

Yunho stepped back finally, just enough to give them air again.

“Sadly you weren’t able to break the record.” said the staff, making Ateez groan in frustration as they clapped anyway.

Both men were looking at each other, before Wooyoung broke eye contact, leaving for his seat again.

Yunho looked at him, and he saw how his ears were red.

With a gentle smile, he went back to his seat again, taking the other card to start the next game — trying to calm his heart to race, seeing flashes of Wooyoung’s flushed face so close to his.

 

---

 

      With a sigh, Yunho stepped out of the shower, droplets of water slipping from his hair and trailing down his skin as he toweled off. Another long day was finally behind him. From somewhere down the hall, Yeosang’s triumphant yell echoed through the dorm, pulling a laugh from Yunho despite himself.

He sat on the edge of his bed, towel still draped over his shoulders, eyes landing on the box of Pepero resting on his nightstand — a leftover gift from today’s shoot. At the sight of it, he groaned and collapsed backward onto the mattress.

“Why didn’t we break that record?” he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. “ How hard can it be?”

But the question wasn’t really about the game. His mind began to replay the moments again — the way Wooyoung had stood still, letting Yunho take the lead. The closeness. The almosts .

His head turned instinctively, eyes drifting to the empty space beside him, as if recreating the scene might give him answers. He walked himself through it mentally, step by step, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. How they could’ve gotten closer. How they could’ve won.

But the longer he thought about it, the warmer his ears got.

“He was so serious,” thought Yunho, laughing quietly to himself, trying — and failing — to brush off the tight feeling stirring in his chest.

Frustration.

His brows pulled together.

“Am I frustrated because we didn’t beat the record or…”

The thought froze mid-step.

Yunho stared at the ceiling, heart kicking up ever so slightly.

“No,” he said out loud, as if it would make it true. “We just wanted to win. That’s all.”

Yunho cleared his throat, running a hand through his damp hair as he straightened up. Sitting there and sulking wasn’t helping. With a low breath, he stood again.

“It’s time to play,” he muttered to himself.

Shuffling over to his desk, he powered on his PC, deciding a few rounds of Valorant might tire him out enough for sleep. Settling into his chair, he grabbed his headset and took a sip of water, just as the familiar click of a door opening echoed through the dorm.

Probably Yeosang doing his thing.

He placed the headphones over his ears, about to click into the game—

But before he could, a hand suddenly yanked the headset away from his head.

“What the f—” Yunho gasped, twisting in his seat, brows furrowing as he turned, fully prepared to scold Yeosang for manhandling his expensive gear.

But he froze.

It wasn’t Yeosang.

It was Wooyoung.

Standing there in oversized pajamas, damp strands of blond hair falling messily into his eyes — and a familiar box of Pepero clutched in one hand.

“Again,” Wooyoung said simply.

Yunho blinked. “What—?”

Before he could finish, Wooyoung stepped forward and dropped the Pepero box onto the desk with a thud. His soaked hair veiled most of his expression, but Yunho didn’t need to see his eyes to feel the tension rolling off him.

Determined. Serious.

Almost… daring.

“Wooyoung, what are you doing?” Yunho asked, half turning in his chair—only to jump slightly as the game launched with a chime. He hurriedly exited it, clicking away the screen before shifting his focus to the very real distraction in front of him.

Wooyoung stood there like he belonged in the scene, all oversized pajamas and damp hair clinging to his forehead. His top hung low on his chest, collarbones on full display, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder. Comfortable. Casual. Completely disarming.

“I’m frustrated,” Wooyoung muttered, lower lip jutting out in a pout as he lifted the Pepero box in a small, dramatic gesture.

Yunho’s gaze flicked to the box, then back to him.
“Okay. So, him too.”
Something sparked behind Yunho’s eyes.

“You want to try again?”

“Why not? Scared?” Wooyoung shot back with a smirk, voice dipped in that teasing bite he knew would get under Yunho’s skin.

Yunho huffed, rising to his full height. The air shifted slightly as he stepped closer, looming over the smaller man, who didn’t back down—instead, he tilted his chin up, eyes never leaving Yunho’s.

There was something about the way Wooyoung’s gaze followed him that made Yunho’s pulse hitch. He reached into the box, pulled out a single Pepero stick, and held it loosely between his fingers.

“If you came all the way into my room just to interrupt my Valorant match…” he said, voice dropping just a little, “you better make it worth it.”

Then, without waiting, he gently pressed the Pepero between Wooyoung’s parted lips.

Wooyoung’s smirk faded into something softer, something almost too calm. His hand came up slowly, fingers curling around the back of Yunho’s neck, light but deliberate.

“I’ll make it worth it,” he whispered back.

Yunho’s breath caught, shoulders tensing just slightly as Wooyoung’s touch sank in. His free hand tightened a little around the Pepero stick.

This time, there was no countdown.
No audience.
No pressure.
Just the two of them.

And the space between them—vanishing by the second.

“What are we doing?”

Yunho’s mind raced, watching Wooyoung, who stood in front of him looking so determined—too determined—for what was supposedly just a game.

A game.

The Pepero game.

His gaze locked on Wooyoung’s eyes, and something twisted deep inside him.
“ Was this really still about the game?”

A shaky breath escaped his lips at the thought. He wasn’t sure where any of this was going anymore, but Wooyoung was already close—centimeters away now—reaching up, gently brushing fingers through Yunho’s still-damp black hair.

Then Wooyoung looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a soft, knowing grin.

That grin broke through the fog in Yunho’s head.

Straightening his posture, Yunho leaned in, finally giving in. He bit down on his end of the stick, one arm braced against Wooyoung’s shoulder for balance.

Three centimeters.

Two.

Yunho felt pressure on his jaw—fingertips guiding him, tilting his head slightly. Wooyoung’s hand had slid from his neck to cup his jaw, gentle but firm.

Their lips brushed. Their breaths mingled.

Wooyoung’s eyes flicked downward toward the Pepero stick. A small smile tugged at his mouth—just as they were about to reach it.

Snap.

The stick broke between them.

“…Seriously?!” Wooyoung groaned, backing off as his hand was still half on Yunho’s cheek.

They were one centimeter away.

Again.

Yunho stared at the broken piece of Pepero on the floor, watching it fall like the dramatic ending to something they were so close to getting right.

“We were this close to breaking it,” Wooyoung muttered, crouching down to gather the fallen crumbs.

Yunho blinked, his gaze drifting from the floor to the man in front of him.
“ Break what, exactly?”

His thoughts spiraled as he watched Wooyoung silently clean up.
“ The record?”
Right.
“ The game.”
The Pepero game.

That’s what this was about.

His ears burned.

“Yes, right. The game.”

“Again.”

The word snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

He barely had time to react before Wooyoung grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back into the chair, making Yunho yelp in surprise as he gripped the armrests for balance.

“Let me do it,” Wooyoung said, already picking up a new Pepero stick.

Yunho looked up just as the other man stepped forward, slotting himself between his knees like it was the most natural thing in the world. Confident. Intentional. Close.

“And stop moving,” Wooyoung added, voice lower now, almost a murmur.

Before Yunho could respond, Wooyoung’s hand rose and cupped his jaw—not roughly, but firm enough to guide him. To hold him still. The sudden intimacy made Yunho’s breath catch, his heart hammering in his chest.

He didn’t know what this was anymore.

But a small smile crept onto his face anyway.

Wooyoung leaned in, Pepero held gently between his lips, eyes locked on Yunho’s.

This time, there was no teasing.
No grins.
Just silence and something unspoken buzzing in the space between them.

Yunho stayed still like he was told, hands still gripping the armrests beneath his fingers. His breath slowed, heart doing the opposite.

Wooyoung’s hand on his jaw was warm — grounding, somehow — as he tilted Yunho’s face slightly to the side, guiding him into place.

Then, he moved.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

The Pepero shortened with each breath, each second drawing them closer. Yunho could feel the faintest brush of Wooyoung’s knuckles against his skin. The dip of his breath. The shift in weight between his knees.

Ten centimeters.

Five.

Yunho’s lashes fluttered, eyes flicking between Wooyoung’s mouth and his eyes.

Three.

Wooyoung tilted his head just slightly, mouth still firm on the stick. Yunho could feel his breath now, warm and even, their noses nearly brushing.

Two.

The grip on his jaw softened, fingertips slipping back into his hair, gently threading through it like a whisper as a leg climbed into Yunho’s lap, towering above the seated man.

One.

Wooyoung paused, not pulling back this time.

Their lips were just barely apart now — just a breath, a blink, a heartbeat away.

And then—

Snap.

The stick broke again, a tiny sound that felt far too loud in the thick silence between them.

But this time, neither of them moved.
The snapped ends of the Pepero dropped somewhere forgotten.
Yunho didn’t even blink.

Because Wooyoung was still there.

Close.

And still holding him.

Yunho swallowed hard.

“…Did we break the record?” he whispered, voice rough.

Wooyoung leaned in the last half-inch, his voice brushing right against Yunho’s lips.

“Maybe,” he breathed. “I don’t know.”

Yunho couldn’t move. He didn’t even try.

Wooyoung’s breath was still brushing his lips, his hand still threaded in his hair, fingers light but present, like he was giving Yunho a chance to move.

But Yunho didn’t.

He just looked at him.

Looked at Wooyoung — really looked — and everything else dropped away: the game, the broken Pepero, the unspoken pressure of the record.

It didn’t matter anymore.

“You,” Yunho said softly, voice just above a whisper, “are really bad at playing games.”

Wooyoung tilted his head slightly, lips curling into the faintest smile, playful but something gentler behind it.

“Am I?” he asked, not pulling away, as his leg slid even more on Yunho’s lap. 

With a shaky breath, skin shivering, his hand moved on his own to slide on Wooyoung’s thigh that was covered by a short. 

“Yeah,” Yunho breathed. “You keep breaking the rules.”

Wooyoung let out a small laugh — short, quiet, almost nervous. Then his eyes softened as he felt the big hand on his leg.

“Maybe I’m just playing a different game.”

That made Yunho pause.

His heart clenched in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline, nothing to do with victory.

Still… still… he waited.

“Then what game are we playing?” he asked, barely more than a breath.

Wooyoung didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked down to Yunho’s lips for the briefest second, then back up.

“I think,” he said slowly, “you already know.”

Yunho’s eyes caught sight of the gentler smile he ever saw on the man’s face — confident, caring, patient — a smile that made the taller crumble.

And just like that, Yunho closed the space.

Their lips met — not in a rush, not like something that had been waiting to explode, but like an answer to a question they both already knew.

Warm.

Steady.

Unshaky, for the first time that night.

Yunho’s other hand left the armrest, fingers brushing over Wooyoung’s waist, grounding himself. Wooyoung melted forward, lips soft and sure, the kind of kiss that lingered like a promise.

When they finally pulled apart, they didn’t go far.

Wooyoung rested his forehead against Yunho’s, both of them catching their breath in the quiet room.

“…So,” Wooyoung mumbled, smiling against his skin as he took the last piece of the biscuit that fell between them, before looking at it. “We didn’t break the record.”

“No,” Yunho agreed, closing his eyes for a second.

Wooyoung chuckled.

“Wanna go for another round?”

Yunho’s eyes looked at the man’s face, confused. “Of the game?”

Wooyoung leaned in again, nose brushing his.

“Not exactly.”

Yunho hissed, seeing Wooyoung fully slide on his lap, arms going over his head on the back of the chair, tilting his head just right with a smirk. 

“What are you doing, Wooyoung…” murmured the black haired man, switching from one eye to another — the question also lingering in his mind.

“What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” he started, hand moving to take the box on the desk as Yunho’s hands were on his thighs, keeping him close. “What do you want me to do ?” 

A shaky breath went past Yunho’s lips, as the blond took another stick, before eating it slowly, enjoying himself as if everything was normal about this situation.

“Is this… okay?” Yunho asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Logic was starting to creep in, nudging at the edges of his mind — even if having Wooyoung sitting on his lap felt better than he wanted to admit.

Wooyoung’s lips curved into a soft, understanding smile. He could read the hesitation in Yunho’s eyes. They were idols, after all. There were lines.

“Do you want me to get off?” he asked gently.

Their eyes stayed locked. Wooyoung’s hands rested on the back of the chair, his breath still uneven. The answer was already written in the air between them.

“…No,” Yunho whispered, gaze dropping to Wooyoung’s mouth.

Then, without a second thought, he leaned in and captured his lips again. Wooyoung let out a quiet gasp of surprise, hands instinctively clutching the back of the chair as he melted into the kiss.

The quiet room was filled with nothing but their breaths and the soft creak of the chair beneath them. Everything else faded — the dorm, the Pepero game, the world — when their lips met again.

Wooyoung blindly dropped the Pepero box back onto the desk, his hand slamming down on the wood for balance as Yunho’s grip closed around his waist, firm and commanding. A soft frown of pleasure formed on Wooyoung’s face.

Yunho’s hands were big.

He’d always noticed. Always known.

But feeling them on him — groping, stroking, exploring — was something entirely different.

It pulled a moan from his throat before he could stop it.

“Yunho— This is—”

“Do you want to stop?” Yunho asked quickly, voice low but urgent. The last thing he wanted was for Wooyoung to regret this.

Wooyoung was breathing hard now. His gaze dropped to where Yunho’s hands gripped his waist — completely wrapped around him, like he was being held together by them.

Another moan slipped out, softer this time.

“No,” he whispered, eyes fluttering. “Don’t stop.”

With a shaky breath and furrowed brows, Wooyoung slid his hands over Yunho’s, then slowly up his arms until they settled on his broad shoulders — broad enough that his fingers didn’t quite reach the edges.

“I’m going crazy, that’s all…” he murmured, voice strained but honest.

Yunho glanced down at where his hands still held Wooyoung’s waist, then looked up again with a small, knowing smile.
Yeah. He understood.

He knew what those hands did to people. However, he had noticed that part of the audience was closer than expected.

Over time, he’d picked up on it — how much attention they got. The occasional comments from fans, the way stylists lingered when passing him props. And even among the members, there had been mentions. Mingi, bold as ever, was the first to admit it.

Wooyoung, though?
He never said a word.

But he didn’t need to.

The quick glances when he took something between his fingers, his breath hitching when he felt his hand on his body, eyes fluttering when the tall man moved his hands with the choreo…

And maybe… maybe Yunho had started enjoying it.

Teasing, testing, playing just close enough to see how much Wooyoung could take without breaking.

With a slight smirk, Yunho tightened his grip on Wooyoung’s waist — just enough pressure to send a message.

Wooyoung yelped, hips shifting instinctively. Whether he was trying to pull away or asking for more, Yunho couldn’t quite tell.

But the reaction was addictive.

“Yunho…” Wooyoung whispered, voice caught somewhere between warning and plea.

Wooyoung’s mind was a haze, thoughts dissolving into static. And when Yunho leaned in to kiss him again, everything else disappeared. He melted into it, into him , the pressure on his waist disappearing for a second, only to return — firmer this time. Guiding. Teasing. Pleasing.

It felt like a massage and a message all at once.

Without thinking, Wooyoung’s hips began to move with the rhythm Yunho set, guided by the grip on his waist. Friction bloomed between them, hot and deliberate, until they broke the kiss with matching sighs.

Yunho’s gaze dropped instinctively, tracing the place where their bodies met. Wooyoung’s shorts had ridden up with the movement, fabric sliding up his thigh to reveal soft, flushed skin. The sight pulled a low moan from Yunho’s throat.

“Eyes up here, hmm?” Wooyoung exhaled, catching Yunho’s chin between his fingers and tilting his head up. Their eyes met again, and he bit his lips with a sly smile “You like my thighs?”

Yunho stared at him, breath catching as his gaze flicked between Wooyoung’s eyes — eyes full of heat and confidence. That look alone made Yunho’s heart skip.

Because, yes… he had a weakness.

Thighs. Always had.

But Wooyoung’s thighs?

Before he could speak, Wooyoung rolled his hips again — slower this time, but harder — drawing a breathy moan from Yunho as his head fell back for a second. The blond’s face twisted slightly with pleasure, and Yunho nearly forgot how to think.

“…Yes,” he finally answered, breathless.

His hands slid down Wooyoung’s thighs, fingers tightening just enough to feel the muscle beneath. One thumb slipped under the hem of the shorts, brushing over warm, smooth skin.

He swallowed hard.

“I really do.”

Wooyoung nodded, his breath hitching as his hardness pressed against Yunho’s. A moan slipped past his lips before he quickly covered his mouth with trembling fingers.

They weren’t alone.

“I want to hear you…” Yunho whispered, voice low and earnest. His hands slid along Wooyoung’s hips, then slipped just beneath his shirt, palms flattening against warm skin as he felt him move, trembling and alive.

“But Yeosang—” Wooyoung moaned, brows knitting together as he bit down on his finger, trying to stay quiet.

“He’s probably wearing his earphones,” Yunho offered, his tone reassuring, hopeful. He needed to hear him — needed it. “Don’t hide from me.”

He rolled his hips up into Wooyoung’s, drawing a sharp gasp from the blond, whose hand slammed down onto the armrest for support. His mouth parted, soft sounds catching in his throat.

“Yu—”

“Hmm hmm ?” 

With a scrunched expression of pure pleasure, Yunho pulled Wooyoung down harder against him, their arousals brushing in perfect rhythm — a friction that made both of them groan as their bodies moved together in sync.

“Can— I want to touch you,” Wooyoung breathed out, his voice unsteady, hands gripping the chair as if holding himself back from tearing Yunho’s clothes apart.

Yunho let out a low, breathless laugh, his eyes soft but full of heat. His hands slid slowly up and down Wooyoung’s sides, coaxing shivers as he whispered:

“You don’t even have to ask, Wooyoung.”

Without wasting another second, Wooyoung slipped his hands beneath Yunho’s shirt, fingers cold against warm skin. He felt the sharp lines of his torso, the subtle tremble beneath his touch. Yunho shivered, breath catching — not from the chill, but from him .

That familiar smirk crept back onto Wooyoung’s face as he explored the body beneath his hands — the same body now trembling from his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” Yunho murmured, voice low and reverent.

The words hit deeper than expected.

A soft moan escaped Wooyoung’s lips, his body instinctively arching into the praise, craving more — even if he didn’t realize it. But Yunho saw the shift. He felt it.

“You like it when I praise you?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips, gentle and teasing.

Wooyoung’s breath stuttered, eyes fluttering as a hushed “My god…” escaped him. He tugged at Yunho’s shirt, suddenly desperate to see more — to see the man who was unraveling him with just a few quiet words.

“Yunho…” Wooyoung’s voice was breathy, his mind swimming in heat and sensation as he watched the man beneath him move. His stomach fluttered, the pressure building with every roll of Yunho’s hips. “Take your shirt off.”

“You’re asking so nicely,” Yunho teased, a grin tugging at his lips.

He stopped only long enough to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it aside without hesitation — ready to give Wooyoung whatever he wanted.

And the moment his chest was bare, Wooyoung was on him again — hands exploring warm skin, lips pressing against his neck. A soft moan slipped from Yunho’s mouth at the contact, every nerve alive under the blond’s touch.

He didn’t need to move anymore.

Wooyoung was doing everything — hips grinding down just right, perfectly aligned, making Yunho’s breath catch with each slow thrust. The familiar tension inside him coiled tighter, and his hands flew to Wooyoung’s hips, gripping them firmly, grounding himself in the feeling.

“Wooyoung,” he groaned, voice rough with need, biting down on his lip.

But the blond didn’t answer — too caught up in leaving kisses along Yunho’s neck, his jaw, the curve of his cheek. The trail of soft, wet heat was too much, too overwhelming. Yunho’s mind blurred, the world narrowing to nothing but the man in his lap and the fire spreading through his body.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

Only feel.

“Wooyoung, I’m—fuck,” Yunho groaned, head thrown back against the chair as pleasure surged through him, nails digging into Wooyoung’s hips. His release was close — too close — and he could feel every second of it building fast.

But Wooyoung didn’t slow. He pressed harder, rolling his hips faster against him, still leaving heated kisses on his neck. He was chasing Yunho’s high with him, determined, focused, relentless.

Yunho’s hand flew to the blond’s hair, fingers curling in soft strands as he tugged gently, forcing Wooyoung to look at him. They locked eyes — Wooyoung’s face flushed, lips parted, but still holding that maddeningly smug expression.

Planting both hands on Yunho’s shoulders for balance, Wooyoung let one hand trail slowly up into the black hair at his scalp — tender, teasing. A stark contrast to the hard, rolling thrusts of his hips.

“You’re close?” he breathed, voice full of heat, biting his lower lip as he watched Yunho’s expression shift. His eyes fluttered, his lips parted in moans he couldn’t control, only managing a shaky nod in return.

“So sexy… You’re so hot like that,” Wooyoung whispered, and Yunho’s eyes rolled back, overwhelmed.

Their eyes stayed locked, Yunho barely able to hold on as he reached the edge. His mouth opened, body tightening—

But then warm hands cupped his jaw, guiding him forward.

“Look at me,” Wooyoung said, voice low but commanding, breathless against Yunho’s skin. “I want you to look at me while you come. Will you do that for me?”

It wasn’t a request. It was a promise. A claim.

Yunho nodded fast, unable to resist — he didn’t want to resist.

Louder moans spilled from his lips as his body gave in, the tension snapping like a rubber band. His brows furrowed, his entire frame trembling as the rush of pleasure overtook him. His moan caught in his throat, the intensity stealing his breath.

His eyes squeezed shut for a second—

But Wooyoung was there.

Watching.

Feeling everything with him.

“Yunho…” he breathed, lips ghosting over his, a soft moan escaping as he saw the man unravel completely — flushed, undone, beautiful.

Exactly how he’d imagined.

Yunho’s moan was still echoing in his throat, barely fading, when Wooyoung shifted again — deliberately, purposefully.

His hips never stopped.

Even as Yunho trembled from the aftershocks of his release, Wooyoung kept grinding against him, slow but relentless, chasing his own high. His hands splayed on Yunho’s bare chest, grounding himself while his body moved on instinct, fueled by the flushed skin under his fingers and the dazed look in Yunho’s eyes.

“Fuck— Woo… wait, you’re—” Yunho started, voice raw, but it got swallowed when Wooyoung rolled his hips again, harder this time, dragging a choked breath out of both of them.

“I’m not done,” Wooyoung breathed, gaze locked on Yunho’s, pupils blown wide. “You feel too good. I can’t stop now.”

Yunho’s hands reflexively grabbed his waist again, trying to hold him still — or maybe help him move. His body was still sensitive, but the friction was quickly stoking the fire again, heat pooling low once more, shocking him with how fast desire came rushing back.

“Wooyoung,” he groaned, the sound drawn out, helpless.

But Wooyoung didn’t need prompting. His breath was heavy, his blond hair sticking slightly to his temples, and yet he moved as if possessed — chasing his own pleasure while never once breaking eye contact.

“You’re so— Yunho, you’re unreal,” he hissed through clenched teeth, biting his bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark. “ Your hands—your body—everything. I can’t think straight.”

His movements became more frantic, sharper now, chasing friction. Yunho watched him fall apart slowly — the way his lashes fluttered, the way his thighs tensed, the way his voice cracked around a moan.

Yunho couldn’t tear his eyes away. And he didn’t want to.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Yunho murmured, voice still rough, hands sliding up Wooyoung’s sides, fingertips dragging against sweat-slick skin. “I can feel you.”

A whimper escaped Wooyoung’s lips as he nodded rapidly, leaning down to kiss Yunho — messy, urgent, all teeth and need. His hips kept moving, stuttering slightly, and Yunho deepened the kiss, meeting each roll of Wooyoung’s body with a grip that encouraged every last motion.

A sharp gasp left Wooyoung’s lips — followed by a surprised squeak — as Yunho suddenly lifted him off the chair in one fluid motion.

“Yunho!” he whined, instinctively wrapping his legs around the taller man’s waist and arms around his shoulders, breath stuttering from the sudden shift. His brows furrowed, lips pouting as he looked at him in disbelief. “I was so close…”

The frustration in his voice made Yunho laugh softly, eyes twinkling with something darker — something intent, determined.

“I know,” he murmured, brushing his nose against Wooyoung’s. “Don’t worry about that.”

Before Wooyoung could argue back, Yunho captured his lips again — firm and hot, silencing him with a kiss that melted the complaint right off his tongue. Wooyoung barely registered they were moving until he felt his back hit the mattress, Yunho lowering him down gently, hands steady and careful despite the fire behind his kiss.

Wooyoung's legs parted instinctively, inviting Yunho in — and the taller man didn’t hesitate. He pressed forward, their bodies locking together with delicious pressure, forcing a desperate moan out of Wooyoung, who’d been denied too long.

“I want you to come like this,” Yunho breathed, voice low and laced with hunger, his lips brushing just barely against Wooyoung’s. He gripped one of his legs firmly, spreading him even more, wanting to feel every inch of him, wanting to watch him fall apart completely.

A confused sound caught in Wooyoung’s throat, but it vanished as Yunho rolled his hips forward. The friction made his eyes slam shut. All at once, the tension returned — sharp, electric, impossible to resist. The blond’s fingers fisted into Yunho’s back, nails digging in as his head fell against the pillow.

“You like this?” Yunho asked, though he already knew. The sounds coming from beneath him were answer enough. “You’re so beautiful like this… under me.”

“Oh my—” he whimpered, a mess of want and need.

A spark appeared in Yunho’s eyes, remembering a detail about Wooyoung that he noticed earlier.

Yunho’s voice deepened, honeyed and dark. “You like when I say those things to you, don’t you? When I tell you how good you feel?”

The words weren’t even dirty, but they wrecked him. Wooyoung felt like he was unraveling. Like Yunho was pulling strings inside of him he didn’t even know existed.

“You feel so good under me,” Yunho murmured, his lips pressing to Wooyoung’s jaw. “So responsive. So perfect.”

Then came lips at his ear — warm, teasing, devastating.

More whispers. More praise. The kind that left Wooyoung’s breath catching in his throat, teeth sinking into his lower lip, his hands now clutching at Yunho’s back like a lifeline. The man above him moved faster, hips grinding deeper with purpose.

“Yunho,” Wooyoung whimpered, barely able to keep his eyes open. His fingers were digging into Yunho’s back, hips moving with him now, chasing the high he could feel burning just beneath his skin.

Yunho murmured. “So pretty when you moan my name.”

A cry escaped from Wooyoung’s throat, his body arching into the sensation, every nerve on fire. Yunho’s praise was a drug — and he was addicted.

“Are you gonna come for me?” Yunho murmured. “So I can see how beautiful you look when the heat takes over?”

“Please,” Wooyoung gasped, not even knowing what he was asking for anymore. Everything. Anything.

Yunho’s hips moved faster now, grinding perfectly against him, dragging Wooyoung toward the edge.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed. “I’m right here.”

And just like that, Wooyoung came undone. A broken moan tore from his lips, raw and breathless, his entire body tensing beneath Yunho. His hips bucked, thighs shaking, hands trembling as he buried his face in the crook of Yunho’s neck, riding out wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure.

Yunho held him through it all, arms wrapped tightly around him, grounding him. He kissed his temple, his jaw, whispering praise even as Wooyoung gasped for breath.

Wooyoung whimpered softly, still trembling, his heart racing against Yunho’s chest. His mind was hazy, but he could still feel the warmth of Yunho’s voice, the steadiness of his touch, the way he made him feel seen. Loved. Worshipped.

“You’re unreal…” Yunho whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Wooyoung’s temple. “The way you move. The way you sound.” Another kiss — this time behind his ear. “It’s driving me crazy.”

Wooyoung, still catching his breath, blinked up at him, flushed and glowing. “You didn’t stop talking,” he mumbled with a pout.

“I didn’t want to stop,” Yunho murmured, brushing a thumb over his jaw. “Not when you look that good falling apart.”

Wooyoung reached up, hand sliding into Yunho’s damp hair. “You talk too much.”

“Do I?” Yunho smirked, but he leaned down anyway, lips brushing slowly against Wooyoung’s. They kissed again — slower this time, mouths open and breath warm, their bodies molded together like puzzle pieces, already knowing the shape of one another.

Yunho’s hand slipped beneath Wooyoung’s shirt again, but not in a hurry — just to feel. To explore. He dragged his fingers across the skin of his stomach, feeling every twitch, every soft intake of breath. His other hand gently caressed the inside of Wooyoung’s thigh, thumb stroking lazy circles just under the hem of his shorts.

“You’re still shaking,” Yunho noted against his lips.

“You’re still touching me,” Wooyoung replied, voice low and slightly hoarse, but teasing.

“I haven’t even started.”

That made Wooyoung inhale sharply, his fingers tightening in Yunho’s hair. Yunho kissed his neck slowly, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling him arch subtly beneath him. He moved with care, yet something deeper — restrained but intentional — underlined every kiss, every graze of his hand.

“I want to take my time,” Yunho whispered, breath tickling against Wooyoung’s skin. “You deserve that.”

Wooyoung’s chest rose and fell beneath him, his eyes fluttering half-shut, already sinking back into the haze.

Yunho smiled — a small, warm, almost reverent smile — before trailing kisses down his collarbone, mapping out every inch of him with his mouth. His hands followed, palms flat and worshipful, fingers skimming every sensitive spot like he was trying to memorize them.

Their bodies shifted again, the tension growing thick once more — not from urgency this time, but from anticipation. A slow burn, curling through every touch, every sigh, every look held just a little too long.

The room was quiet except for their breathing and the rustle of sheets, the air charged with a promise unspoken but deeply understood.

Yunho broke away from Wooyoung’s lips, his breath warm against the flushed skin of his neck as he trailed slow, lingering kisses downward. His hands ghosted over the hem of Wooyoung’s shirt, a silent question passing through his touch. The blond nodded once, breath catching, and a heartbeat later, his shirt joined the other discarded pieces of clothing, fluttering to the floor like a feather.

Yunho leaned back just enough to drink him in — his eyes tracing the lines of Wooyoung’s torso like he was committing them to memory. Smooth, caramel-toned skin, painted with the softest flushes of pink. A delicate tattoo graced his side, barely rising and falling with his breath. Yunho could see every subtle detail — the curve of his ribs, the scattered moles dotting his skin like stars, the faint tremble of anticipation beneath his muscles.

A moan escaped Wooyoung’s lips when Yunho resumed his trail, kissing every ridge of his abdomen, counting them like precious keepsakes. His breath was hot and reverent as he followed the line down his torso, lips brushing over skin like a promise. Every exhale, every touch, was slow — intimate.

When Yunho’s hands slid down to his thighs again, he squeezed them gently, thumbs brushing upward as he parted them ever so slightly. The touch wasn’t rushed; it was deliberate — like he was coaxing Wooyoung open, not just physically, but emotionally too.

“Yunho…” Wooyoung’s voice cracked with both need and awe, his fingers threading into the bed sheets as he tried to steady himself against the sensations washing over him.

The breathy call pulled Yunho's attention upward. Nestled between Wooyoung’s thighs, he looked up and found those dark, wide eyes staring down at him—dazed, wanting.

“Please,” Wooyoung whispered, voice soft and trembling. “I want you… please…”

His hand reached down, gently threading into Yunho’s hair, fingertips brushing tenderly against his scalp. Yunho exhaled a slow breath, moved by the vulnerability in Wooyoung’s voice and the quiet urgency in his touch.

With a soft smile, he leaned in and pressed one last kiss to the inside of Wooyoung’s thigh—gentle, reverent—before rising back up, bringing their faces only inches apart. His gaze lingered on Wooyoung's flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the longing written all over his expression.

Yunho brushed a thumb over Wooyoung’s cheek, then pressed a feather-light kiss to it, grounding them both in something warm and steady.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured against his skin.

When he pulled away, Wooyoung’s hand slipped from his hair, fingers trailing down air, already missing the contact.

“Where are you going?” he asked breathlessly, his pout immediate and honest, eyes following Yunho like he was afraid he’d disappear.

“We need to be prepared, no ?” replied Yunho, as he opened a drawer, taking lube and condoms.

Wooyoung's face flushed a deeper red when he realized what Yunho meant. Still, he shifted on the bed with slow, deliberate ease, stretching his arms above his head in a subtle display—one he knew Yunho would notice. The tall man turned just in time to see the arch of his back, the way the low light painted golden warmth on every curve.

Yunho returned to the bed, laying next to Wooyoung's awaiting body, as he looked at the tall man with anticipation.

He leaned in, lips brushing against Wooyoung’s ear. “Take everything off, Wooyoung,” he whispered, the words soft but electric.

Yunho’s voice was low and firm, the words echoing in Wooyoung’s ear like a command and a promise. A shaky breath slipped past his lips, body responding instinctively as he slid out of the last layer of clothing, leaving himself completely bare against the sheets.

He reached out, his hand gliding across Wooyoung’s chest in a gentle, deliberate stroke, and the contact alone made Wooyoung’s breath catch. His head turned instinctively to meet Yunho’s gaze, looking down with half lidded eyes, feeling the hand slide across his body before taking his soft length in hand.

Wooyoung's mouth parted in a soundless gasp, his breath catching as a wave of shivers rippled through him, biting his lip, the pleasure delicate but growing. Yunho never looked away — his gaze steady, dark, and full of something that made Wooyoung feel entirely exposed and entirely wanted, while his hand moved his slow motions.

“So pretty…” whispered Yunho, kissing Wooyoung softly, tenderness settling between them, as the storm waited. The blond’s hips moved on their own, bucking up against Yunho’s hands as the taller one didn't plan to change rhythm, making Wooyoung’s patience melt.

Breaking the kiss, a moaning Please erupted from Wooyoung lips, making Yunho lick his own lips, leaving Wooyong’s length behind, before taking the lube and gently coaxing it on his fingers.

Not breaking eye contact, Wooyoung closed his mouth, feeling a finger against his entrance, before slowly sliding in. Brows furrowed, noses brushed together as Yunho never looked away, examining the other man's face.

“Breath, Wooyoung.” 

The blond nodded, giving Yunho a gentle kiss, needing contact as Yunho’s finger moved in and out of him, trying to accommodate him to the feeling.

“It’s been a while, hm ?” asked the taller one without really waiting for a response, but wanted Wooyoung to think of something else — wanting him to feel good.

With a nod, Wooyoung felt another finger entering him, making him yelp as he moved his hands to cope Yunho’s jaw gently, keeping him close.

“I’m not going anywhere,” whispered the man against Wooyoung’s lips, moving his fingers expertly inside the man, avoiding exactly what Wooyoung wanted.

The blond opened his eyes again, finally feeling pleasure as he exhaled against his lips, hand gripping his black hair gently as Yunho took a rhythm, seeing pleasure take over the moaning man’s body. 

Yunho took Wooyoung’s lips in his, a heated kiss being exchanged as a third finger entered the man and finally pushed it against his sensitive spot, making Wooyoung’s eyes roll backwards.

His thighs were parted and shaking, Yunho’s hands never stopped working the man open, didn’t want his moaning to stop, ignoring his own desire that was burning for release — burning for Wooyoung.

“Yu-Yunho, I’m-” managed to moan the blond, gripping Yunho’s hair with force as his body shivered, making the other man groan, moving his finger deeper, harder.  

“Want me to stop ?” breathed Yunho, biting his lips as he saw the other man's back arch deeply, moving against his fingers. “Want to keep your pretty melting face for when I’m inside you ?”

He nodded without thinking, instincts guiding him more than words could. Yunho let out a low chuckle, knowing Wooyoung was too lost in the moment to truly register anything — and yet, he moved anyway, his own restraint starting to unravel.

A small, breathy whimper escaped Wooyoung as the warmth of Yunho’s touch disappeared for just a second — the sudden emptiness making him ache. But before the feeling could settle, gentle lips pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, grounding him with comfort before Yunho shifted, positioning himself between his legs with slow, deliberate care.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched as he felt Yunho settle between his thighs, the bed dipping slightly under the weight. His fingers instinctively reached out, finding Yunho’s arms, his shoulders — anything to hold onto, anything to anchor himself.

Yunho’s eyes scanned his face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was longing. Heat. Trust.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice lower now, edged with something deeper — care, and need tangled into one.

Wooyoung nodded again, more grounded this time, his hands tightening slightly on Yunho’s biceps. “Yeah. Just… stay close.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yunho promised, brushing his nose against the other’s before leaning in for a kiss — slower this time, meaningful. It wasn’t about the rush. It was about being there, together, feeling everything.

Their bodies moved in sync, breaths mingling, skin warming against skin. Yunho’s hands roamed carefully, mapping the familiar paths across Wooyoung’s waist, ribs, hips. Every soft sound that left the blond’s lips sent shivers down his spine.

“You’re incredible,” Yunho whispered between kisses, voice barely above a breath. “Everything about you. The way you move, the way you look at me…”

Wooyoung tilted his head back, exposing his throat as his hands slid up Yunho’s back. “Don’t stop…”

“I won’t,” Yunho promised again, as his lips found a spot just below Wooyoung’s jaw that made him arch gently beneath him, another quiet moan slipping free.

With his busy lips, he opened a condom in a swift movement before rolling it slowly on his length, exhaling on Wooyung’s lips, searching for the lube with quick hands.

His mind began to drift, swept up in the warmth of Wooyoung’s body beneath him — the softness of his skin, the subtle way his hips shifted, wordlessly asking, waiting . For him. For more.

Yunho barely registered his own breath catching, so lost in the kiss that he didn’t notice Wooyoung’s hand moving until their lips parted, the blond’s eyes glinting with amusement.

“Looking for this?” Wooyoung teased with a breathless laugh, holding up the small bottle of lube between their bodies, the cap already popped open.

Yunho blinked down at it, then at him — a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How long have you been holding that?”

Wooyoung shrugged, lips brushing Yunho’s jaw. “Long enough to know you’re really bad at multitasking.”

With those confident words, he opened the bottle to put lube on his hand, before putting it aside as his other hand moved down his body without breaking eye contact. Gently grabbing Yunho’s painfully waiting length, his hand worked him up, making the man’s head fall in his neck as his hips bucked in want — in need .

Wooyoung looked down, moaning as he propped his length at his entrance, his other hand flying to Yunho’s chest, feeling his muscle flex as he looked down as well. 

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel right,” he murmured, looking up at Wooyoung again, slowly pushing his hips.

Wooyoung nodded, breath shaky, but eyes steady. “I will.”

The hand on his chest slid on his shoulder with a moan, feeling the pain of the stretch take over him.

“Yunho…” whispered Wooyoung, his other hand still down his body, feeling every movement with tears in his eyes. “Kiss me…”

Capturing his lips, they both moaned as their pleasure was now one, slowly sliding in until his hips were directly against Wooyoung’s body. He didn’t move. He waited, feeling the other man hands on him — one on his shoulder and the other flat against his stomach.

The blond broke the kiss, panting as he slowly moved against the tall man, adjusting himself to size inside him — which was not an easy task.

“Yunho you’re….” His breath got caught in his mouth, feeling the weight inside him, not used to this feeling anymore but more importantly, not used to this size . It wasn’t really shocking — but it was to Wooyoung.

“Sorry…” breathed the man on top of him, laughing shyly as he pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“ My god, no, don’t excuse yourself,” moaned back Wooyoung. “It’s perfect, I just need to get used to it. But don’t worry,” he smirked, seeing the frown on Yunho’s face with his hips movement — or maybe an internal fight to not pound into the younger, “I’m getting used just fine.”

Yunho nodded, putting his forehead against Wooyoung’s, slowly moving his hips as he felt the man shiver below him, finally relaxing as he bit down a moan looking at Yunho’s blessed expression. 

“Tell me what you need,” asked the taller one, stealing a kiss before straightening up to look down at Wooyoung, both hands touching Yunho’s chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A curse went past Wooyoung’s lips, seeing the man in front of him — this beautiful, breathtaking man, taking him so well . But he knew the best was still to come — that delicious anticipation humming under his skin. The thought alone made him smile, a slow, knowing curl of his lips as his nails lightly dragged over Yunho’s heated skin, earning a sharp inhale from the man above him.

“Faster…” 

Yunho nodded with a smile, sliding his hands up and down Wooyoung’s thighs as he picked up the pace, rolling his hips expertly but not quite hitting the soft spot inside the younger. The blond let out a sharp cry, his hands sliding down Yunho’s sides to grip his hips, feeling the ripple of muscles moving beneath flushed skin. His eyes were locked on the sight — completely entranced by the way Yunho’s body moved above him, strong and deliberate.

Wooyoung nodded, biting his lips harder as pleasure waved through him, skin shivering as he felt each roll of Yunho’s hips inside him and a silent cry erupted from his lips — a frustrated one.

“What is it? You don’t like it…?” Yunho pouted, though Wooyoung caught it instantly — the glint of mischief dancing in his eyes betrayed the playful challenge behind his words.

You know what you’re doing, thought the blond, knowing damn well he could rail that soft spot inside of him, making him scream and cry for more, but he didn’t. And this made Wooyoung's mind go crazy.

“I want to ride you-” cried Wooyoung, as Yunho finally touched the soft spot, but quickly stopped as the blond’s words erupted from his lips, making Wooyoung groan in frustration and giving the other man a deathly stare.

“Already? I’m not pleasing you enough?” Yunho teased, voice low and playful.

“Shut up,” Wooyoung breathed out, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile. In one slow, deliberate movement, he slid off of Yunho, only to shift positions — his legs hooking tightly around the taller man’s waist.

Yunho’s breath caught in his throat as he was rolled onto his back, now lying beneath the blond. Wide-eyed, he stared up at him, lips parted in surprise.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” Wooyoung said, voice a soft, heated murmur as he settled over him — completely in control.

Without wasting any second, he took Yunho’s throbbing length between his fingers, sitting on it slowly and throwing his head back, thighs shivering. Yunho moaned in a low sultry voice, hands just centimeters away from the other man’s body, too lost into the feeling engulfing him again.

However, he felt another set of hands on his own, pushing them against Wooyoung’s skin, to grab, feel, scratch… The blond just needed to feel Yunho’s hands on his own heated body as his hips rolled, making both of them moan in unison.

“Wooyoung- Fu -” breathed the black haired man, as Wooyoung saw his eyes close and jaw tightened at the feeling, making the pride in the blond’s chest bloom as he now bounced on Yunho’s length.

A scream echoed in the room, body hunched forward, hands slamming on Yunho’s chest as Wooyong felt his soft spot being hit, again and again , thighs trembling and tears swelling in his eyes.

“ Don’t stop- ” moaned, pleaded, asked — Yunho didn’t know. The only thing he knew was that he was losing himself in the feeling, moving his hips as well to meet with the younger’s movement. Wooyoung let out a breathless howl at the sound of Yunho’s desperate cry, the raw pleasure in his voice spurring him on. He nodded frantically, doing his best to speed up, lost in the heat of the moment — too far gone to notice the growing redness across Yunho’s chest, marked by the trail of his nails.

None of them cared.

“Yunho, Yun—” The broken call snapped Yunho’s eyes open, his breath catching as he took in Wooyoung’s face — twisted in a beautiful mess of pain, desperation, and overwhelming pleasure. His gaze dropped lower, drawn to the blond’s trembling thighs, barely holding him up, muscles taut and shaking under the strain.

“You’re beautiful,” Yunho breathed, his voice low and reverent as his hand slid along Wooyoung’s trembling body. He felt everything — the way his thighs flexed with effort, fighting to hold the rhythm; the subtle arch of his lower back rolling with each movement; the way his arms tensed and released, muscles shifting under flushed skin. Every part of him was alive, moving with a desperate, breathtaking rhythm that made Yunho’s chest tighten with admiration and want. “How could I know you would look this pretty bouncing on me, hmm ?”

A curse slipped from Wooyoung’s lips as Yunho’s low voice rumbled through his body like thunder trapped under his skin. It wasn’t loud, but it was deep — the kind of sound that vibrated in his bones and curled around his spine. The kind that made his body react before his mind could catch up. 

His own length was throbbing on his stomach, missing contact but not really caring — his focus was on his thighs, burning. But he didn’t want the feeling to stop — not now, not when Yunho’s voice was pouring into him like warm honey, sticky with praise and laced with heat. The way he said his name, the way he told him how good he was doing, how incredible he felt wrapped around him — it was addicting.

“Say it again,” he panted, hips grinding down harder. “Tell me—tell me how good I make you feel.”

Yunho’s fingers dug into his thighs, his response a desperate moan as his head tipped back. “You feel so good, Wooyoung. So fucking good. You’re perfect—driving me insane.”

Yunho saw Wooyoung’s length leak, making him smile as he knew the power he had, just by praising the younger.

“Want me to take over?” Yunho’s voice was low, coaxing, but laced with hunger as he looked up at Wooyoung, whose movements had begun to falter. The blond’s breath hitched, a cry slipping past his parted lips — part pleasure, part frustration. His brows furrowed, eyes dark and hazy with need, clearly craving more than he could give himself in that moment.

Yunho sat up slightly, his hands gentle on Wooyoung’s waist, thumbs brushing tender circles into his skin. “You don’t have to do everything,” he murmured, eyes locked on his. “Let me take care of you. I want to make you feel good too…”

There was a beat of hesitation in Wooyoung’s eyes — vulnerability, trust, desire — before he gave the faintest nod, biting his bottom lip as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Yunho’s.

“Please,” he whispered, arching his back and that was all Yunho needed.

Yunho’s lips let out a curse, seeing the man on him put on a show, as if he needed to — Yunho was already so worked out just by the sight of him alone.

His body straightened up, kissing the blond with an embrace they both craved, breathing heavily against each other. Slowly, as his arms circled the younger’s body, Yunho gently laid him on the bed.

Wooyoung’s body was barely laid on his back that he felt the length within him move again at a fast pace, making him moan as he threw his arms around Yunho’s neck and took his hair between his fingers.

“Like that- Don’t stop !” cried the blond, feeling his soft spot being abused and his own throbbing length rubbing against their bodies, pressed against each other. “Fuck.”

Yunho’s breath was heavy against Wooyoung’s neck, biting the skin gently, contrasting his hips that got harder every second, chasing their own release as he felt his stomach buzzing again. He felt the blond’s fingers in his hair, sliding down on his neck and back, sending shivers down his body and making his hips jolt forward in a particular hard thrust, making Wooyoung scream.

Yunho straightened up, sweat rolling down his cheek but didn’t even imagine slowing down even for a second, as he saw Wooyoung's blessed face, tears swelling in his eyes.

“I’m- Yunho-” moaned the crying man, hips moving against the taller, trying to make him hit his soft spot again. “I’m close.”

“You’re close ?” breathed Yunho, seeing a single tear rolling down on the bed as he arched his back when his soft spot was abused one time, a second time, before being left again, making Wooyoung groan in frustration. “Want me to take you there ?”

Nodding rapidly, mouth opened in a silent scream, Yunho took Wooyoung’s full hips in his hands before lifting them up the bed and positioning his own body the way he wanted. The blond moaned in confusion, half of his body being lifted against Yunho’s body, as the top of his back and head stayed on the bed.

“This is weird-”

A scream got the rest of Wooyoung's sentence, as Yunho thrusted hard into the man again — with this position, the younger’s sensitive spot was always aimed, making him throw his head back in a probably painful way.

“Happy now ?” moaned Yunho, nails digging into his hips harder, feeling Wooyoung tighten around him and screams getting lustier.

“Yes, yes, yes…” cried Wooyoung between thrusts, hands gripping Yunho’s strong thighs as his high came crashing in his body. “Hold me, please, I’m-”

Yunho nodded quickly, a loud moan escaping him as he reached for Wooyoung’s hand, lacing their fingers together, not stopping his hips as he felt his own pleasure double, ready to explode. He felt nails digging into his thigh as Wooyoung's face scrunched up, a deep, guttural groan rumbling from the back of his throat as he came on his stomach. His body trembled, one hand pushing desperately against Yunho’s as waves of sensation overtook him.

Cursing, the taller man moaned loudly as Wooyoung tightened around him. Yunho’s knuckles turned white from the grip before he leaned forward, pressing a trembling kiss to the back of Wooyoung’s hand, feeling himself release into the whimpering man.

Yunho rolled his hips, as both of their orgasm went down, sweat all over their body and tears on Wooyoung’s face. The taller man stilled, breath catching as a warm hand pressed gently to his chest — grounding him, pulling his focus back to the man beneath him. Slowly, he released his grip on Wooyoung’s hips, guiding him down onto the bed again, their bodies following naturally into one another as Yunho settled atop him.

Exhaling a content breath, Yunho felt the blond’s fingers massaging his hair, melting his body — not even giving attention to the filth on their bodies, too lost into each other.

“If you want to try to break the record every night,” started Wooyoung in a whisper, cupping Yunho’s cheeks so they could lock their eyes. “Don’t hesitate.”

The older laughed against Wooyoung’s chest, face going red as they both knew that the demand was not for the Pepero game.

“I’m happy to try it again.” responded Yunho, straightening himself up to give the blond a soft kiss that made them melt.

Bodies relaxed and minds clear, they stayed on the bed for a while, not caring about anything else — just keeping their fingers tangled, breaths merging in the quiet, heartbeats gently falling into sync.

Notes:

I'M TRYING TO UNDERSTAND HOW AO3 WORKS

Anyway, it's the beginning of this series! I have other ideas on the way.

But don't forget that you can leave suggestions if you like! I love to read the comments and to hear people's opinions on things.

Chapter 3: Loving Losers /Matz

Summary:

“Do you love me ?
And not in a ‘I love my members’ way but in a ‘I want to worship you’ way. ”

_____________________________________

A Matz OS where the awkward duo is finally alone in a foreign country - at what cost ?

          “Okay, you can start when you feel like it.”

A click sound erupted in the recording room, finger leaving the mic that was connecting the recording booth with the producer’ side. Waves of sounds were showing on the screen, showcasing all the parts of the prod ready to have its vocals assigned to.

The silence of the recording booth broke with a deep sigh, as the man took the lyrics sheets in his hand, eyes grazing over the words displayed. Moving his hand, he showed a thumb up before music started in his headphones.

Black hair was standing out on the other side of the window, slowly bobbing its head with the rhythm and hair moving with the flow as a wave of a voice appeared on the screen.

The sultry voice stopped and the music followed before a finger clicked on the microphone again.

“Do you think you can… At the beginning of the second verse.” started the black haired man, making the other person take a pen to start scribbling the instruction. “Try to put more pressure on the first syllable. I think it would sound prettier.”

Nodding his head, the music started again as the man followed the instructions clearly, even adding more intensity on the other syllable of the next verse.

“Joong-ah.”

The producer moved his head to meet the other man before clicking on the mic again, ready to respond.

“Is my tone good ? Or do I need to change it.” 

“Hm. It’s good, but- I mean the feeling of the song is a mix of a lot of things.” continued Hongjoong, looking at the lyrics with his own notes on it. “For me, personally, I would put more… Angelic ? Soothing tone to it ?”

A sound of understanding echoed in the producer’s studio, as Hongjoong continued to explain his way of thinking, looking at the prod in front of him and glancing at the white haired man in the other room.

“Seonghwa. It’s your song. So in the end, you do as you wish in terms of tone. This song can be interpreted in so many ways,” continued the producer, smiling at Seonghwa as he could feel the stress in the other man’s voice, “so don’t pressure yourself, and do it how you feel like it.”

The older man gave a small Okay, making Hongjoong start the song once more, as an angelic voice started to sing again, making the producer smile as his instructions were still followed.

 

_______________________________

 

          “What do you think ?”

“I don’t know. This part is really tricky due to the rhythm change.”

Night was setting, as both men could see the sun dropping low and the city lights turning on.

“We also need to think about the fact that you’re going to dance here. So we don’t want to make it too hard for you so you can keep up.” finished Hongjoong, exhaling a little, hand on his forehead as pain started to set in.

They were in the recording room for nearly five hours now. 

Seonghwa's voice started to sound weaker than before and Hongjoong's instructions were becoming more and more unfocused — or maybe too much. The producer started to think about details that weren’t even born yet — the dance, the outfits, the performance as a whole.

His head was fuzzing. He had to finish Seonghwa’s solo quickly, because another three were coming and time was catching up with them.

White hair popped out of the recording booth, sensing Hongjoong’s nerves and came to sit beside him.

“Maybe we can stop for today ? My voice is not following anymore anyway.” 

Hongjoong nodded with furrowed brows, as he saved everything that they did before opening another file, different soundwaves appearing on the screen, making Seonghwa tilt his head a little.

“What are you doing ?”

“I’m opening up Jongho’s solo. I thought about a part that I needed to…” said the producer in a whisper, too into his thoughts to actually form proper sentences to Seonghwa

“Maybe you need to leave that for today, no ?” started the white haired man, worry lightening up in his gaze as Hongjoong took another sip of his coffee. “We are in Italy. Maybe it’s better for you to drop this and go see the city for a bit ?

“I can’t. That’s the thing.” responded Hongjoong with a sigh. “I’m late.”

“You’re not late Hongjoong, you’re just too stressed.” 

“How do you know I’m not late ?” quickly barked back the younger, giving Seonghwa a frowned look. “You’re the one producing ?”

The other man’s mouth opened to talk back, but he quickly bit it back with a sigh, knowing Hongjoong’s state of mind. Every comeback is the same, he’s used to this. He just needs to stay calm.

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now, but staying stuck on it will not help you go forward. Plus, you have a fashion show to attend tomorrow. So it’s better for you to relax.”

“I’m not putting a fashion show before an actual album, Seonghwa,” said Hongjoong, his voice a bit more fierce than before, finger tapping against the wooden desk. “But how about you leave me alone ? You have a fashion show too, but you are walking down the runway. So how about you focus on your fashion show and you leave me alone with my own problems.”

Silence.

White hair suddenly stood up next to Hongjoong who looked up to meet an angry face. But what struck him was Seonghwa’s sparkly eyes. The taller one walked towards the door before turning around and sighed heavily, trying to keep his shaky hands occupied.

“I know you’re stressed, I know this is a lot. But all of this do not give you permission to disrespect me and to talk to me like I’m fucking shit, Hongjoong.” started the older, voice shaking but confident, looking down at the seated man as the producer’s face broke. “We all have our own source of stress. Yes you have work to do, everyone has. I’m shitting myself because I’m doing my first ever runway in 2 days, but I'm not here talking to you like you’re nothing. Because I have the decency of thinking that everything needs to be done in their own time and place.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth but he quickly shut it down seeing Seonghwa’s hand move in front of him, signaling him that whatever he was going to say, will not help the situation.

“So, yes, I’m going back to the apartment to focus on my shitty runway. I’m not staying a minute here with you rotting in your chair.”

With those words, the white hair man took his phone before storming out of the studio, tears barely holding in.

Hongjoong’s body jumped as the loud bang of the door echoed in the empty studio. 

He knew he went overboard. Every comeback is the same — he has a lot of work, he’s overwhelmed and he fights with the members.

But Seonghwa was a special case.

The singer was the one who got bitten the most out of all the boys because he wanted to stay with Hongjoong, help him and maybe try to ease his mind a bit. The producer is happy deep down, to not stay alone in his producing, but on the other hand…

He never wanted Seonghwa by his side on time like these, because he knew he would hurt the older. 

They were in Italy for fashion shows — Seonghwa for Isabel Marant and Hongjoong for Balmain. The Isabel Marant show was in 2 days and the older one was going to take part in the runway. 

It was Seonghwa’s dream. And Hongjoong was not even giving him any praises about that.

Putting his hands on his face, he sighed deeply.

Seonghwa was so excited for this trip to Italy. It was the first time that they were alone in another country and the white-haired man had made plans, so they could relax and enjoy their stay.

They did none of them.

With a deep feeling of sorrow, Hongjoong tried to continue his work, thinking about the sad Seonghwa back in their shared apartment.

 

_______________________________

          He sighed heavily, as he slowly walked off the wall, where he stood for 15 minutes. Seonghwa was doing the routine he had been doing for over a month now, not wanting to have a single flaw during his runway tomorrow.

Sweat was rolling on his skin and his shoulders ached from the straight posture he imposed on his body.

“That’s enough for today. I don’t want to think about anything else anymore than just, the couch.”

Straightening up with a groan, he heard the main door open and close, meaning that Hongjoong was finally back after another 5 hours in the studio alone. Seonghwa rolled his eyes, before taking comfortable clothes to change in after his steamy shower.

He hummed his solo song under the pouring water, but a frown was still here — a sharp pain in his shoulders.

I need a massage so bad, thought the man.

Seonghwa directly thought of Hongjoong and how bad he wanted to ask him for one. They did it before, massaging each other after a rough dance practice, so he could ask, it wasn’t weird or anything. Moreover, he didn’t want to admit it in front of him, but the younger’s fingers were actually magical.

A blush appeared on his face but he quickly brushed it off with a frown as he stepped out of the shower, water dripping down his body.

After a while, the bathroom door opened to let a fresh Seonghwa slowly walk in the living room. His eyes directly fell on the producer sitting on the couch, computer and headphones in.

“Is he fucking serious ?” sighed the white haired man before walking towards the couch. 

Hongjoong bopped his head in a rhythm, before seeing his computer fly away from him, headphones being disconnected and music erupting in the apartment.

“What-”

Turning around, he saw the older one in a black flowy shirt and grey sweatpants, clicking on the pad, eyes carefully inspecting the screen before closing it.

“If you open this computer again, Hongjoong, I’ll hide it in a place where you will never find it until we fly back to Korea.”

“Seonghwa, what the f-”

“If you open your mouth just to insult me,” barked back the older quickly, not letting Hongjoong finish, as a dark look appeared in his eyes, “you better shut the fuck up."

The producer’s mouth fell open hearing the last words flowing out of Seonghwa’s lips with force. He never talked like this to him — to no one — and this detail made Hongjoong’s heart shake.

I’m in trouble.

Hongjoong slowly opened his mouth again but his gaze met with Seonghwa’s eyes — dark and filled with anger — which is something that made the younger shut his mouth in a haste.

Seonghwa walked back, putting the computer on the table, before returning to Hongjoong.

“You’re going to give me a massage because I’m actually screaming from the inside, and while you do it, you will stay quiet.” said Seonghwa, now in front of the seated man. “Do you understand, Kim Hongjoong ?”

“Yes.” answered the younger with a breath, eyes fixed on Seonghwa.

The older moved his hands in a make place gesture, which the producer directly did by spreading his legs apart. Seonghwa turned around before sitting in the spot between Hongjoong’s legs, back straight waiting for the other man to start.

With a sigh, the producer gently put his hands on his shoulders that were already exposed due to the flowy shirt and started to add pressure, making Seonghwa hiss.

He knew where and how to massage the older — it's not his first round with this task — and Seonghwa was grateful to finally have someone that knew his desire well.

At this thought the white haired man felt his cheeks burn up again but he quickly sighed it away as he felt pressure in his upper back.

Not those desires ! screamed the man in his head, being embarrassed to think those childish thoughts about his member. It was not something he tried to hide to himself, Seonghwa knew himself and how his mind worked — he was in love. Moreover, it was not recent.

He didn’t really know when his feelings erupted, but the mist disappeared when Hongjoong had handed him the team ring. Seonghwa had been the first one to receive it — he cried a lot that day, in front of Hongjoong and even alone in his room. It was the first time the man had shed tears of unshakable love.

But it was also the first time that he knew this love was more than just a band thing. And he was not going to lie, the fact that he is the “mom of the group” was a good deal for him — he got to play all domestic and cute with Hongjoong without being weird.

“Ouch,” hissed the older as fingers pressed against a big knot in the middle of his back, making the man arch his back to back away.

“Sorry,” whispered Hongjoong, making Seonghwa shiver.

He sometimes wondered if the producer was feeling the same. Maybe not as intense as Seonghwa, but even just a little…

The taller man had seen all the moments where Hongjoong had tried to initiate contact with him — to fail terribly, making Seonghwa laugh at his awkwardness. But why was he so shy about it ?

He knew the man was not really a fan of skinship, but then, why did he try to have one with Seonghwa ? Is it just a friend thing ? Maybe it was just fanservice for the camera ?

Seonghwa's trail of thought was once again cut deep when a sharp pain sent a shock in all his upper body, grabbing Hongjoong’s thigh to dive his nails in the man’s skin.

“OUCH, Hongjoong !”

“It’s not my fault if you’re so tense !” quickly responded the man as he inhaled sharply, moving his hand to grab Seonghwa’s on his thigh, to shove it away. “It’s not a reason for you to rip my skin open though.”

The singer  laughed a bit, saying a little Sorry as he saw Hongjoong gently stroke his thigh with a sound of pain.

Silence took place once again in the apartment, as the man’s fingers slowly worked on Seonghwa’s lower back, making the man sigh as his body melted in the touch.

Feeling the man relax, Hongjoong opened his lips again, a sad look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Hwa,” gently started the man in a quiet voice, not stopping his movement as if it was a distraction for him to finally speak. “I am an asshole.”

“Yeah, and a big one.”

Another set of Sorrys went past Hongjoong’s lips as he recalled their day and how he had talked to Seonghwa.

“You’re right. I’m too worked up with this,” continued the younger, seeing the stillness of Seonghwa. “I should have stopped when you told me to. Every comeback is the same…”

The white haired man nodded before pointing to his neck, indicating to Hongjoong he needed treatment in this area. Without a word, the producer gently grabbed his neck to massage it, making Seonghwa’s eyes flutter close.

“Why do you keep trying to stay with me if you know I’m going to be an ass to you ?”

The older’s eyes slowly opened, already knowing the answer, however, he sighed and shoved this reply away.

“Because I know you are not really ‘you’ when you are under pressure,” responded Seonghwa in a gentle voice, showing Hongjoong that he was ready to talk. “And I know that if you are alone, you will dig your own grave. I prefer being insulted than having a corpse come home every day.”

Hongjoong hummed as he felt a warmth appear in his heart at those words, knowing the older man's way of showing love and appreciation.

“You just need to listen to me more, Hongjoong. I’m not trying to make you late or make you focus on me or the members more than your job. I’m just trying to help you not get intoxicated by your carrier.”

I know were the words the producer whispered back, fingers slowly sliding on Seonghwa’s shoulders again, feeling the warm skin under his cold touch.

“I wanted to enjoy Italy with you…” added the older in a small voice, making Hongjoong furrow his brows in a sad expression, his heart shattering. “It’s not every day we get to have experiences like those.”

“I’m so sorry, Hwa…” sighed the younger, as his fingers went to the man’s lower back again. 

Silence set in the apartment. Seonghwa closed his eyes, enjoying the message and the ounce of warmth Hongjoong was willing to give. The singer grasped every chance he could to share a moment with the other man, as pathetic as it sounds.

“How about,” Hongjoong continued, making Seonghwa tilt his head slightly to show the other man he was listening, “after my show ends tomorrow, I take you to dinner ? A nice restaurant before your runway.”

The white haired man gently gasped, trying to hide his heart racing at those words as well as the gentle breath in his neck.

“I would love that, Hongjoong…” responded the older in the softness tone Hongjoong had ever heard, making him accentuate the pressure in the other’s lower back and making him arch without noticing.

In a slow gesture — as if he was afraid to burn himself —  Seonghwa gently laid into him, head on his shoulder and head slightly titled to hide his face in his neck. The producer’s breath got caught in his throat, feeling the man’s body against his own, his heart racing as he tried to continue the massage the best he could.

“Hongjoong-ah.” breathed the older one against his neck, eyes soft as he looked at the man’s chest moving faster.

“Yes ?” the black haired man responded, a bit too quickly — maybe trying to remain nonchalant and keep his presumed confidence in front of the other man.

Seonghwa’s lips pressed themselves in a thin line — so much to say but so much restrain. The singer would already be holding him, praising him, reassuring him that he would always be the most perfect man in his eyes, even after being an absolute asshole.

“Thank you.” 

Hongjoong's eyes fluttered before looking up at the ceiling, tears filling his eyes without even controlling them. He nodded gently, continuing his massage for a while until he felt the older’s body still and his breath stabilising.

The younger looked at the man before gently circling his arms around his body, holding him close as he took his flowy shirt in his hand, to replace it on his shoulder as it had slipped away.

I shouldn’t look at him that way, thought Hongjoong as his gaze melted seeing the relaxed face against him. It was a rare sight.

His full lips were slightly parted, his long eyelashes were gently laying on the top of his cheeks and as he looked at his eyes, he saw that they were slightly puffy. Hongjoong sighed before pressing the older harder against him, gently caressing his hand with his thumb.

What am I doing…

 

_______________________________

          “How was the show ?”

“Long. Beautiful but long.” answered the producer, as he took his sunglasses off to look at the other man better, finally back from the runway. He was still in a cozy outfit — a resting day.

“Good to be home then,” added the older, looking at Hongjoong with soft eyes. “This really suits you.”

“You think so ?” 

Hongjoong's ears turned red as Seonghwa nodded but he quickly walked past him with a small Thank you.

“I’m going to take a shower and change myself for dinner. Do the same, so we’re not late.”

“You took a reservation ?” smiled the white haired man, following Hongjoong to their separate rooms.

“Yes,” he nodded, already sensing Seonghwa’s excitement. “But don’t get too worked up now, it’s not really the fancy type.”

“I’m not getting excited to know if it’s fancy or not.” he started, putting a finger on the man’s chest, before putting his messy collar back in place.  “I’m happy because we are going to eat out together.” finished the taller, giving him a shy smile before turning around and closing the door to his own room.

Hongjoong stayed still, looking at the door that was now closed. A warm feeling settled in his chest as he walked to his room as well. Both men went under their own respective showers, but without knowing, they shared the same thoughts — I’m going out with him.

After scrubbing his body thoroughly, Seonghwa stepped out, opened the door to his bedroom so the steam could scatter, and walked in the direction of his wardrobe.

What can I wear…. He said it’s not going to be very fancy but…

He still wanted to feel pretty. He loved feeling pretty.

Seonghwa bit his lips gently, also admitting to himself that he loved feeling pretty in Hongjoong’s eyes. He would lie if he said that he didn’t want to put on a show for the man.

His eyes directly fell on a black suit vest which he adored. This specific piece had the ability to bring his delicate features more — revealing his chest and collarbone, accentuating his waist and falling oh so greatly on his hips — but also showed his muscles in a flattering way.

Seonghwa loved to feel that way. To feel complete in every aspect possible.

With a big smile, he took the vest, as well as a long and flowy black pants that he directly put on with a content sigh, his body embracing the clothes in the best way.

On the other side of the apartment, Hongjoong looked in his wardrobe as well, towel hanging low in his hips as his eyes trailed over the suits.

Let’s keep it simple but effective.

The younger took a black suit, but left the jacket behind, wanting to put his body in the spotlight even if covered. Putting the full black suit on, he also took a pair of boots, which made him a little taller than usual — much to Seonghwa’s liking.

Without even noticing, his every movement was made in a plan to satisfy the other man’s taste — the black suit, the tight vest and button up that kissed Hongjoong’s body beautifully, the boots that made the older meet his gaze at the same height as his.

Hongjoong was not really embarrassed about his height but since he knew Seonghwa, it was as if he had started to love the fact that he was smaller than him.

Every time the older had to look down to meet the producer’s eyes, his heart missed a beat and somehow… he knew Seonghwa liked it  — feeling so tall at Hongjoong’s side but felt so weak in his arms.

Walking to the bathroom again, he looked at himself in the mirror — twinning with Seonghwa, who had started to put on makeup.

Not much. 

Black smoky eyes and sparkly full lips. Perfection

Putting jewelries all around his body, he finally put on some perfume — which was once again, Hongjoong’s favourite — before going out again and picking simple costume shoes. With anticipation, he opened the bedroom door to finally step out. 

Lips opening in awe, he stopped himself as he caught sight of the man.

In all black, hair slightly pushed back, black fingernails adorned with rings and an expensive watch on his wrist. As he thought nothing could get better, Seonghwa’s breath hitched with a realization when Hongjoong walked towards him.

He was the same height as him. 

Moreover, he was, in fact, taller. From 1 centimeter. This small difference made a big one in his heart.

Not fancy huh ? thought Seonghwa, blush creeping on his face as he met his gaze with Hongjoong’s.

The other man stilled in his walk as well, eyes roaming on Seonghwa’s body.

“Seonghwa…” whispered the younger, without even noticing the words leaving his mouth.

His upper body was so well built in contrast to his waist and legs that were slender and lean. This big gap accentuated his shoulders that were getting bigger by the days — San took good care of Seonghwa — which made the younger plea in silence every time he reappeared after a work out session. His plump lips screamed to be worshipped as they shone in Hongjoong’s eyes, before quickly turning his gaze to his eyes — smoky but so focused on him.

Hongjoong was strong enough to not fall to his knees but oh he was the weakest man for Seonghwa.

You’re beautiful.

“Are you ready to go…?” 

Hongjoong nodded, shaking himself awake as his core quivered for the man in front of him. Walking to Seonghwa’s side, he never left his gaze and with a swift movement, he offered his arm. 

Funny how he was pleading for contact. If he knew what he was doing, he would crumble in embarrassment. But how could he see when he was under a spell ?

The white haired man smiled shyly, circling his hands into Hongjoong’s arms, letting himself be guided out of the apartment, to the fine restaurant that was ready to welcome those two men in love.

 

_______________________________

 

          “Yes ! That’s why I said I would like to see the woman’s wardrobe as well and… Here we are now.”

Hongjoong closed the door behind them, still looking at the older man as he talked about his outfits for tomorrow. 

Their dinner was everything Seonghwa expected — nonchalant, funny, entertaining — and deep down, he screamed at how sweet it was. Maybe Hongjoong didn’t even noticed, but the singer saw it — saw how the younger’s gaze changed when they seated down in front of one another, saw how his smile softened when Seonghwa talked about fashion, how his eyes trailed his body, not in a needing way, but more as if he was ready to start a temple for him. He felt Hongjoong’s foot meet his legs more than once, and every time he had excused himself with a laugh. However, he never said sorry when his pinky touched Seonghwa’s hand.

Hongjong didn’t even notice how much he wanted Seonghwa — he was the only one not to understand. Seonghwa’s cheeks started their pink state the minute he circled his hands around Hongjoong’s arms.

This was new, he had thought, but his mouth stayed shut. Why ruin a moment he had waited all his life ?

He had wished he could just grab his hand, stroke his leg, look at him the way a lover would without shame but…

He was scared.

Seonghwa knew his feelings and the way Hongjoong had looked at him meant a lot.

But what if he was reading it wrong ?

“I’m sure you’ll look stunning in your outfits tomorrow,” added Hongjoong, averting his gaze from Seonghwa.

“Thank you…” he whispered back.

Moving his eyes to look at Seonghwa again, Hongjoong saw it — the anxiety — in the singer’s eyes.

“I can see it. You’re afraid of something. Stop that,” said the producer, walking towards the kitchen to drink a glass of water. “What are you anxious about ?”

Seonghwa’s arms locked into himself, sighing as he sat against the back of the sofa and glancing at his shoes with furrowed brows.

“I’m not sure about my walk. I trained and the coach said it was fine, but I can’t help but think something is off.”

Finishing his glass of water, Hongjoong slowly let the recipient down. Images of models walking on the runway flashed in his mind — how their legs were thrown beautifully walking down the carpet, how their feet clanked against the floor, how ethereal a human could become with the right attitude…

“Walk for me ?” asked the producer, making Seonghwa's face glance up with doe eyes. “I’m not a pro, but I could tell you if I sense something is wrong.”

The singer's face lit up. He quickly walked towards the door of their separated room to have more space as Hongjoong positioned himself where Seonghwa had previously been against the sofa. 

Hongjoong's gaze on him made his anxiety perk up, memories from past runways getting back in his mind — gaze fixed on the models, flowing on stage as they passed by him one by one. However, he was now on the stage. He was going to be in front of the flashes, all the eyes of experts, fashion lovers, critics…

“Relax. I’m not judging you. You know how to walk.” gently said Hongjoong, giving him a small smile before crossing his arms in his chest.

Seonghwa’s heart flipped seeing how Hongjoong looked — confident, demanding, advising — but still, a warm feeling spread across his face, as his confidence tried not to falter in front of the gentle words that echoed in his mind.

Looking straight ahead, Seonghwa began to walk.

Feet in front of the other, one by one, as if he was on a line as the instructor said — heels first than the rest of the foot. Shoulders straight but not too stretched back, chin up to look confident, but not too upward so the audience could still see every feature of the face.

Seonghwa’s body halted for a moment, striking a little pose before turning beautifully and walking back to his spot.

As he turned his head in the spin, he saw Hongjoong’s face — a face that made the butterflies come back from their break, a face that nearly made the model miss a step. Hongjoong was looking, analysing, enjoying the way Seonghwa walked in front of him. His eyes followed every move — the flow of the pants and the little dip of his hips as he threw a leg after another, the air going through his air as he turned…

Seonghwa sighed as he finished his walk, blush all across his face due to Hongjoong’s eyes, still trailing their path across the other man’s body as a small nod was given.

“I don’t see any issue…” whispered the producer, air short — or maybe too scared to say words he shouldn’t.

The singer gulped, parting his lips slowly, ready to say thank you. However, a thought occurred to him.

The heels.

“Can I show you another walk ?”

“You can show me what you want, Seonghwa.”

Dangerous.

The older entered his room with shaky hands, as he opened his wardrobe and picked some heels before storming out again, so scared that Hongjoong decided he was too bored to look, that he changed his mind.

But the man remained in his place, eyes catching his gaze the second he stormed out — he was anticipating this moment as much as Seonghwa.

“I need to walk with heels tomorrow.”

Saying those words as he put the new pair on, he quickly looked at Hongjoong again but his gaze met one he wasn’t ready to battle.

Seonghwa knew the man liked heels. He wore some when he could. Not those types though. Hongjoong wasn’t a fan of high heels — too painful.

However, seeing the older wear them ? That was another story.

Seonghwa met a dark and deep gaze. A gaze he wasn’t truly understanding but a gaze he felt deep in his bones. Hongjoong kept his arms against his chest but the man with white hair saw how his fingers were grabbing his biceps more thoroughly than before.

And this detail made his heart skip a beat.

All the confidence he built, crumbled right at his feet, as he straightened up again, high heels under him.

“They are pretty…” said Hongjoong in a small voice, eyes trailing down Seonghwa’s legs, up and down his frame, left and right to not miss a single change in how his body was now standing due to the high heels.

Seconds passed before a sound erupted : 

Clank clank clank.

Echoing in the apartment, the taller moved a leg before another, pants flowing effortlessly as Seonghwa finally got used to walking in high heels after all those years. Confidence, ease, caution — all those words were now sticking to his walk.

However, his legs were trembling, his air was short and the sound of the heels against the floor began to echo loud in his ears. As he turned, he directly looked at the cause of his overstimulation, who was feeling the same weight on his shoulders.

Both were hiding well, but Seonghwa could feel the tension building in the apartment. And deep down, he hoped he wasn’t in a delusion.

Taking three steps forward and closing his eyes, he turned gently to face Hongjoong. The producer, still seated on the head of the couch, was too casual in contrast to Seonghwa's burning cheeks.

“Was it good ?” whispered the singer, eyes not leaving Hongjoong’s the best he could.

The high heels gave the older more force than he usually had. He knew he looked good. More importantly, he knew the effect he had on the world — on everyone truly, but his main priority was his workaholic leader.

Hongjoong nodded, too silent for Seonghwa as well as his sanity. He wanted to walk towards him, tempt him, make him crawl under his fingers. 

But was he reading the room correctly ? 

His lips trembled as he took a little step forward, careful not to make too much noise as he walked on a thread.

“Just a nod ?” asked the singer again, taking another step as Hongjoong looked down before catching his gaze again with doe eyes.

“You know it’s good. You’re just fishing for compliments.”

Seonghwa caught it.

The little shiver in his voice. His Adam apple moving and his lips quivering. Fingers tapping against his black button up as he bit his lower lip like he always does when the tension grew in him.

Is Seonghwa crazy ? Is he making a mistake ?

“Are you coming to see me tomorrow ?”

Another step.

“Do you want me to come ?”

Hearing Hongjoong’s small but confident voice, the singer sighed a shy Yes, before stopping himself right in front of the younger, legs nearly in between Hongjoong’s.

Seonghwa tilted his head gently, inspecting the other man’s face the best he could, brows furrowed as his mind was racing : 

He is into me. Wait no, he’s tense because I AM making things awkward. But why would he just stay here ? I see his eyes. Do I know him this well or I’m forcing myself to believe in things just to make me feel wanted.

Sighing a sad breath, his confidence shuddered.

“You should wear this kind of thing more often,” said Seonghwa in a small voice, changing the subject to hide himself and his delusion away as he took a step back.

“Why are you talking about me all of a sudden ?”

Hongjoong's hand slid under his thigh to pull his body towards him again, and a yelp left Seonghwa’s mouth. His legs were weak, his breath caught in his throat, hands twitching as he nearly grabbed Hongjoong by the shoulders, scared to fall — maybe that was what the producer wanted ?

This is…

“You were doing so well, why back off ?” continued Hongjoong as his eyes never left the older’s gaze. Blinking slowly, his hand disappeared on the man’s thigh just to grab his hand instead. “I have so much to say about you. Continue.”

Seonghwa was red.

“You- You like it when I wear high heels ?” gently asked Seonghwa, testing the waters with a shaky voice.

Hongjoong nodded, making the man’s heart flip as he saw the little smirk — this shitty confident smile that made Seonghwa’s mind go crazy.

The producer's hands went to grab the head of the couch as he looked at the high heels again. Seonghwa saw the little thrill in his movement.

He is shaking. 

This situation felt familiar. It wasn’t actually the first time the two men flirted like this — they always did that. One day it’s Seonghwa’s confidence taking over and the other it’s Hongjong's but neither of them overflowed — much to the singer’s disappointment. 

It wasn’t the first time the man gave him this much attention, or more precisely, the attention he always wanted — intimate touch, craving, plea. And his voice, god, his voice randomly dropped an octave and took a soothing way that did everything Seonghwa could imagine to him. 

Seonghwa liked this. Loved it even. It was everything he ever wanted… But…

Days passed, soft sentences, little smirks, awkward moves on camera contrasting to the self-assured ones when they were alone in their own world. Everything Seonghwa longed for came to feel too real and this was dangerous.

For him. For Hongjoong. For the group.

He wanted more. But could he handle everything that came with it ?

And most importantly — was Hongjoong just playing along ? Playing with him ? Enjoying it without an ounce of seriousness in him ?

Seonghwa’s eyes looked at Hongjoong again, not an ounce of confidence faltering from the smaller man, making the singer cough in embarrassment.

I need to say something, it’s too quiet.

“You’re even smaller now.”

Silence

.

.

.

Shit. 

Seonghwa closed his eyes at his shitty sentence, trying to make jokes just to appease his throbbing heart. The situation was hard to begin with, but seeing Hongjoong grab the couch like that, made his chest pop a little under the black button up, which added another mission in Seonghwa’s tension — to not look.

The man could hear his heart pounding loud — too eager, too impatient but too scared and too awkward to try things further.

“I always liked taller people. Especially in heels”

Huh ?

Eyes open wide, gaze locked with each other, the air stilled.

Seeing the older man's expression shift, Hongjoong’s heart quickened.

Fuck. Too far ?

Letting his head fall with a broken smile, he took his bottom lip in between his teeth, munching on it like the old habit he always had. 

Truly, Hongjoong didn’t know what he was doing. But his body was… taking the lead. He was still shaking, not really taking in well the tension that was building around them, but acting what his mind was screaming to him.

As his mind began to swirl, he felt fingers under his chin. The younger’s breath slowed when his eyes caught Seonghwa’s again — he harbored a strange expression — brows furrowed, lips parted, cheeks red.

“Hongjoong…”

Hissing, the producer looked down again, seeing the man’s heel gently stroke his leg as Seonghwa’s plea echoed in his mind.

“Yes…?”

Hand sliding on the producer’s face gently, thumb stroking the man’s soft skin, a serious tone took place in the apartment.

“I have another request for you.”

Words echoed deep in Hongjoong’s core, his body tightened, seeing Seonghwa’s frame approaching him. The producer looked at the man’s collarbone, as the golden necklace fell between them.

I need to end this, thought Seonghwa, or I am going to go insane.

“I want you to be honest with me…” started the older, playing with Hongjoong’s collar as a flush appeared on his face. “It’s been a while since I have a mist in my head, and I want you to tell me in all honesty if I’m crazy or not.”

Nodding, Hongjoong felt a hand on his chest where his heart bumped at an alarming state, a dramatic contrast to his face harboring a calm and composed expression. 

“I’m serious Hongjoong.”

His voice was shaking, lips quivering, however his gaze didn’t falter.

“Go ahead. Don’t worry. I won’t calculate this time.”

Laughs echoed in the silent and heavy apartment, making Hongjoong sigh in relief as the other man straightened himself up. Without waiting another second, his lips parted and let out : 

“Do you feel romantic feelings towards me ?”

Oh.

Coughing against his hand, Hongjoong nearly headbutted Seonghwa in the chest hearing the older’s blunt question. 

“W-What ?”

“Do you love me ? And not in a ‘I love my members’ way but in a ‘I want to worship you’ way. ” added the singer quickly, nearly stumbling over his words, cheeks red and eyes distant but voice strong, built with confidence.

“I- Uhm…”

This question awoke every nerve in Hongjoong’s body. 

What… Why is he asking that?

The signal inside his head fluttered as he felt Seonghwa’s presence more than ever after this question.

Maybe a bit too much. 

He was now aware of the man in between his legs, was aware of the perfume against Seonghwa’s neck, was aware of the dark gaze passing by from time to time.

Hongjoong always flirted with Seonghwa, he wasn’t in denial — the little touches during dance practices, his pinkie grazing against his hand during dinner, the leg grab — he liked that dynamic with him.

But in front of the camera ? He became a mess.

He was so at ease in his play, but when the stage could be seen by everyone, his leisure was shaky.

And it was worse when the producer was confronted with it — which was the case right now, in this shared apartment, in a foreign country with nowhere to hide.

“I’m stopping you right now because I know you,” said Seonghwa, interrupting the silence without moving an inch, to Hongjoong’s misery. “I am asking this because I’m… I like what we have but I’m… I don’t like being confused, Hongjoong…”

Passing his hand in his hair and nodding at the gentle words, Hongjoong could still hear the fear in the softness, making his heart ache — this distress was not unfamiliar to him, as he shared the same questions. 

The room felt smaller than it was a second ago. Maybe it was the heat rising to his face. Maybe it was the weight of Seonghwa’s words — not accusing, not demanding, but honest. Too honest. The kind of truth Hongjoong had trained himself to tiptoe around for months.

For years ?

“I… I didn’t think you’d ever speak about it out loud,” Hongjoong confessed, the words coming out like air he’d been holding in too long. “I kept thinking it was just me who was confused.”

Seonghwa’s expression softened, and yet — he didn’t move away. “It’s never been just you.”

Hongjoong let out a dry laugh, hand flying to his forehead. “Then why the hell are we like this ?”

“Because you get awkward every time I get close,” Seonghwa said gently, pointing against Hongjoong’s chest. “Because you turn it into a joke. Or you flirt and then run.”

“I’m scared,” Hongjoong admitted quietly. “I’m scared of messing this up. Of wanting too much, or maybe not enough, and ruining everything. I mean… I enjoy this because apart from making music, I don’t know what I’m good at. That’s why I’m scared when something becomes serious.”

There it was — his truth, laid bare, fragile and real.

Seonghwa’s gaze didn’t waver. He reached up slowly, fingers brushing against the hem of Hongjoong’s shirt, the contact feather-light. “Then let me meet you halfway. I’m not asking for everything right now. Just… something real. With you. Not the stage version. Not the leader. Just Hongjoong.”

The producer blinked, chest tight, still too deep into his own troubles.

His heart stuttered as Seonghwa leaned forward — just slightly — closing the space between them with hesitation. “You scare the shit out of me. What you have to offer frightened me, because I don’t know if I could give it back…” whispered Hongjoong, a breath away from Seonghwa’s lips. 

“I know,” Seonghwa replied, his smile small, but unwavering. “But I’d rather be scary than ignored. I’m not asking for anything back, I’m asking for something real… With you.”

Their foreheads touched.

Not a kiss. Not yet.

But maybe the beginning of one.

Something real.

Seonghwa’s words echoed in Hongjoong’s mind.

Why does it sound so… Easy, when he is saying it. 

“Plenty of nights I have been asking myself what I was doing.” continued Hongjoong, voice not over a whisper and eyes avoiding every contact. “Why I was… I thought I was using you. Using you to feed my delusions. But I don’t even know what my delusions are. I… I know I want comfort but I don’t know my feelings-”

Hands cupping Hongjoong’s cheeks, the producer was forced to lock eyes, as his spiral of thoughts cut loose.

“Please. Just…” sighed the taller man with a weak smile. “Shut the fuck up.”

With that, the singer closed the mere gap between them to seal their lips in a breath.

The kiss wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t practiced or performed.
It was clumsy, slow — like trying to remember a melody by ear after years of silence.

Hongjoong stilled, breath caught between surprise and relief. Seonghwa’s hands held his face like something precious, thumbs brushing gently against his skin, grounding him. 

It wasn’t fire — not yet. The quiet strike of a match. The inhale before the burn.

Seonghwa leaned in further, deepening the kiss only slightly, coaxing Hongjoong into it with nothing but patience. And that was what broke him open — not the intensity, but the care. The steadiness. The fact that Seonghwa wasn’t kissing him to win. He was kissing him to stay.

Hongjoong’s fingers trembled where they hovered at Seonghwa’s sides before finally gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in closer, needing him near. The producer kissed back, cautiously at first — then with more certainty. His walls didn’t shatter. They lowered, one breath at a time, as if Seonghwa was the only one allowed past them.

And Seonghwa didn’t push further. He let the kiss be soft. Let it speak for the things Hongjoong couldn’t say yet. Let it be enough.

When they broke apart, it was barely — foreheads still pressed together, noses brushing. Hongjoong’s lips were pink and parted, eyes wide, dazed with emotion.

“You didn’t use me. And to be honest,” Seonghwa said softly, voice ragged with feelings. “I was waiting for this moment.”

Silence again — thick with everything left unspoken. But it was no longer heavy.

It was theirs now.

Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered shut. He could feel Seonghwa’s warmth, the soft exhale from his nose brushing his skin, the steady beat of something tender between them. His hands clenched at his sides — not because he didn’t want to touch, but because touching meant surrendering. It meant giving in.

And he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop once he did.

“I don’t know how to be soft with this,” he murmured, his voice barely a thread. “I know how to want you. I don’t know how to keep you.”

Seonghwa exhaled slowly, and one of his hands lifted — this time finding Hongjoong’s, easing it open with care. Their fingers laced together without pressure, without force. Just quiet permission.

“Then let’s not think about keeping or losing anything,” Seonghwa whispered. “Let’s just be here, for once.”

Hongjoong opened his eyes, and Seonghwa was already looking at him — not with fire, not with lust, but with something gentler. Something steady and safe.

And that, somehow, was more dangerous than anything else.

“You are always thinking ahead. Stay right here,” added the older, brushing a strand of hair out of Hongjoong’s face, “with me. Even if it’s just for the night…”

Hongjoong’s face broke into a sad expression before kissing Seonghwa again — it wasn’t fiery or reckless. It was cautious, reverent. But filled with fear.

Seonghwa answered by leaning in.

His hand cradled the back of Hongjoong’s neck as their mouths found rhythm, a slow, quiet conversation made of warmth and breath. No show. No performance. Just them — messy, new and real.

“Will you let me love you tonight ?” whispered the singer against the producer’s lips, hands brushing up and down his arms.

A sigh escaped Hongjoong’s mouth at the overwhelming feelings coming altogether. He wanted this so much, so badly, so eagerly — he dreamt of this moment.

But all this softness scared him.

“I…I am so afraid.”

Seonghwa’s gaze switched from his lips to his eyes, lips quivering from want but too in love to push things — seeing the older’s expression broke his heart. But he knew him. Knew him well.

With care, a hand gently popped open Hongjoong’s vest, one button after another, giving the producer every time to react, to retract, to flee. Seonghwa didn’t want to force anything. Scaring the man away was the last thing he wanted.

But he knew. The future scared him. Hongjoong didn’t know how to live in the present.

However Seonghwa could help him learn. Just like how he helped him with anxiety, how he helped him with loneliness, how he helped him conquer himself… It wasn’t his first rodeo.

Maybe this time, it was the most foreign one for them. Or maybe the easiest task — which is why it was the most terrifying.

“Are you afraid of me ?”

Hongjoong denied, soft voice against his ear he felt his vest being slid down his shoulders onto the couch. Hands flowing over the fabric of the producer’s button up, familiar lips brushed against his neck and jaw, leaving soft kisses as a sigh escaped from the producer’s parted lips.

“Are you omniscient about the future ?

“No…”

A small Hmm erupted in his ear as a shiver went through Hongjoong’s spine. Seonghwa left wet kisses against his skin, hands on the producer’s body as he hoped for him to ease himself and to stop ruining his life for such idiotic matters.

“Then why are you so obsessed over controlling things you can’t even see yet ?”

Hongjoong’s eyes caught Seonghwa’s again, sentence echoing in his mind before feeling two buttons being open on his chest.

“I am right here. And I am for sure in your future, Hongjoong…”

Seeing his calm expression, the older really wondered why he was so haunted by what was coming next, nearly forgetting what was happening now. He had the most beautiful man in between his legs — the man he adored and secretly cherished — heart open and ready. Yet, he was putting Seonghwa aside to focus on unpredictable deeds.

Seonghwa’s words lodged deep in his chest, sharper than any scolding, softer than any plea. “I am right here. And I am for sure in your future, Hongjoong…”

It wasn’t a request. It was a truth — offered, not demanded. A vow spoken into skin.

Hongjoong’s breath hitched as his fingers tangled into Seonghwa’s top, clinging as if anchoring himself in the present. In him. The tension in his shoulders cracked under the weight of it all — his breath, his fear, the impossible standards he had built around himself like armor.

And Seonghwa saw it — the unraveling. The moment the fight left him.

Hongjoong let his head fall against the man’s chest, eyes fluttering shut. His lips parted as a shuddering breath escaped, chest finally rising and falling in something close to peace. Not because the worries disappeared — but because he wasn’t holding them alone anymore.

“Fuck…” he exhaled, voice low and raw, full of disbelief at the ache inside him easing just enough to let the fire truly burn. Finally letting it burn.

Without wasting another precious moment with Seonghwa — without thinking about whether or not this will be possible when back in Korea — he pushed himself off the couch to catch the older’s lips in a hungry kiss.

Seonghwa let out a surprised gasp against Hongjoong’s lips, his hands instinctively rising to grip his waist as the producer surged forward, desperate and decisive. There was no hesitation now, no more overthinking — just the heat between them and the certainty of needing more.

Hongjoong’s fingers tangled in the back of Seonghwa’s shirt, tugging him impossibly closer, lips moving with purpose. It wasn’t rushed — no — it was urgent, threaded with the weight of everything they hadn’t said, every look they’d exchanged, every moment they’d let pass under the guise of self-control.

Seonghwa melted into it, letting the man in front of him manhandle him before hitting a table, making both of them sigh as their bodies erupted against each other. Hongjoong’s found every once of skin he could, which was not very difficult — examining the man’s outfit and body during dinner really helped him — to let his hands grip, stroke, mark.

Their mouths moved in tandem — feverish, tasting, memorizing. When Seonghwa tilted his head slightly, Hongjoong took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against the older’s with a low, helpless sound from deep in his throat.

“God, you’re…” Hongjoong murmured as they broke apart for air, their foreheads resting against one another, lips swollen and breaths heavy. “You make it impossible to think straight.”

“Good,” Seonghwa breathed, eyes hooded but playful, hands roaming now, down Hongjoong’s arms, over his lower stomach, grounding him. “You think too much.”

Hongjoong’s laugh came out shaky, disbelieving — like he couldn’t quite process that this was real. That Seonghwa was here, flushed and radiant in the dim light of the room, all soft heat and steady hands and lips that had just kissed him like he meant something.

Like he was something.

“Do it again,” Seonghwa whispered, and Hongjoong didn’t need to ask what. He tilted his chin and kissed him once more, slower this time, savoring the slide of Seonghwa’s mouth against his own.

One of Seonghwa’s hands slipped beneath the hem of Hongjoong’s shirt, resting just over his bare ribs, thumb stroking in slow, lazy circles. The touch wasn’t overtly bold — but it lit every nerve in his body on fire. The intimacy, the gentleness in it, made Hongjoong’s chest ache.

He arched slightly into it, into him, craving more contact, more closeness — anything that proved this wasn’t a dream.

Seonghwa’s breath hitched as Hongjoong kissed along his jawline, trailing heat with every brush of his lips. When he reached the spot just beneath his ear, Seonghwa shivered, hands tightening slightly on his waist.

“I am here.” 

The singer could tell those words were also said for Hongjoong himself, finally accepting the change he was so afraid of, which made Seonghwa’s stomach to flip — the stressed and maniac leader was now pleading and unraveling against him.

“What are you waiting from me ?” asked Hongjoong, breathing heavily against the other’s neck, hands gripping his thighs, which made Seonghwa yelp at the force erupting from the shorter man in front of him.

“I’m taking everything you are offering me.”

Hongjoong locked eyes with Seonghwa, gaze burning him, making him melt against the table as he put a hand on the wood to support himself. He could see the nerves breaking, the dreams coming true, the mind spiralling between various choices…

“I need you to guide me.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes as he felt Hongjoong’s hips move forward against him as he bit his lips to keep his noises to himself, heels clanking against the floor and legs shaking.

“I… I don’t…”

“You’ve dreamed of this, no ?”

A moan of shame erupted from Seongwha’s lips at Hongjoong’s words, as the producer let out a little smirk before sliding his hand up the singer’s thighs to the buttons of his pants. Looking down, Seonghwa bit his lips with a little nod, trying to hide himself in the producer’s neck.

“Guide me through your dreams then”

“Hongjoong…” sighed the older as his knees nearly gave up hearing the smooth honey voice near his ear, asking him to unveil himself fully. “It’s too…”

“Please…”

A shivering curse went past Seonghwa’s lips, feeling a palm slide under his thigh to grab and pull, nearer, closer, harder. The flowy pants were slowly sliding down the singer’s thighs but Hongjoong made sure to keep them on, to keep it between them — much to Seonghwa’s despair.

Hongjoong’s plea echoed in his mind as Seonghwa put both hands on the producer’s shoulders, feeling his muscles move underneath as the younger locked gaze with him.

“I… You took care of me… Gently and carefully…” finally said Seonghwa, averting his gaze as words flew out of his mouth with shame, knees buckling, trying to hide his hardness as flashes from his dreams erupted through his mind : 

The older panting, legs trambling as he moaned quietly into the mattress, feeling Hongjoong’s plump lips around him, hands roaming on his body where his lips couldn’t be. Seonghwa remembered waking up with sweat all over himself before hiding his face in embarrassment, hand around his length, trying to remember the feeling he imagined too well.

“Want me to take care of you, angel ?” whispered Hongjoong, popping open the buttons of his sleeves to roll them up.

Seonghwa’s body shivered as he saw the younger kneel down in front of him, the loving surname longing in his ear. A sigh escaped his mouth when he felt hot lips against his lower stomach, finally letting the flowy pants drop on the floor.

A little smirk appeared on his face as he kissed Seonghwa’s length on top of his underwear, making a throaty moan appear in the apartment, much to Hongjoong’s enjoyment, loving to hear the meticulous and careful man unravel on him.

“Do you want this ?” 

Seonghwa looked down at Hongjoong's words — a deliberate question amongst all the tension unfolding without control — face laid against the singer’s stomach and hand cupping him on top of his underwear.

Biting his lips with furrowing brows, Seonghwa let out a curse before sliding his hand in Hongjoong’s stylised hair, nodding and giving the producer the answer he desperately wanted. Without another second, the singer’s underwear joined the pants, before Hongjoong carefully threw them somewhere in the apartment without a care.

Hongjoong looked up and he nearly moaned at the view.

A hand around his length and another on his chest, Seonghwa panted heavily as his slender legs flexed under Hongjoong’s grip and eyes hidden just under his bangs. The producer could see the sparkle in those eyes, the sparkle that made him crumble.

“So beautiful, angel…”

“Why the loving surname all of a su- aah…” 

Feeling hot lips around him, Seonghwa nearly fell backward but quickly banged his hand on the wooden table to keep himself straight. The feeling he dreamed of for countless nights before waking up in shame, this feeling was now crumbling all over him.

Shameless moans erupted in the apartment, as tears swelled up feeling Hongjoong’s tongue doing wonders — wonders his mind didn’t even gave him to fantasize about all those nights. 

“Hongjoo- Wait ah fuck-” were the only words the older could manage, as his hand became a fist in the kneeling man’s hair, keeping himself up the best he could.

Tongue circling around Seonghwa’s length, he took a leg in his hand before lifting it above the ground, making the taller yelp as he was now balancing on one leg. Hongjoong looked up and smiled around the singer as he put his leg over his shoulder, caressing the smooth thigh right against his face.

The singer moaned at the view : a handsome man — which he loved — between his thighs, hands at his lower back, pulling him closer as if having Seonghwa in his mouth was the only thing keeping him alive. Seeing such a messy view compared to the slicked back hair, all black suit and usual maniac demeanor made Seonghwa melt.

“Seonghwa…” said Hongjoong in a raspy voice, feeling a trembling hand in his hair. “Sit on the table.”

The singer could only nod as all his limbs gave out when the table supported all the weight he could barely handle with a mouth around him — Hongjoong’s mouth. Seonghwa felt the hot and wet feeling again, throwing his head back as he pushed his hips against it, cutting off a moan by clapping a hand on his mouth.

Sucking diligently, Hongjoong could only focus on Seonghwa’s reactions — so divine, soft, pleading for more but body not following — which was everything he could hope for. 

Hongjoong was a sucker for control. He always yearned for it and the singer’s reactions made the man go absolutely crazy. If only he knew the countless scenarios the producer had in mind about Seonghwa, unraveling under his touch, trembling against his thrust, screaming his name against the mattress — the singer would back away in disgust if he ever knew.

But something told him that, maybe, he would comply.

Seeing the control he had over Seonghwa — with just two tongue flicks and one cheesy nickname — made him feel that the man was maybe as guilty as him.

Hongjoong moaned around the singer as he imagined Seonghwa on his bed at night, right next to his room, panting against his pillow with his hands around his length, arching into the touch as he prayed for it to be the producer taking care of his desires.

“My god, Hongjoong.” whimpered Seonghwa as he saw the producer taking him all the way until his nose touched his lower stomach, his hand smacking the table in a loud thud. “I’m gonna-”

The producer stayed still for a couple of seconds — enough seconds for him to undo the last buttons of his top — before letting the length slide out of his mouth as the younger straightened up, feeling Seonghwa’s leg on his shoulder follow his movement with ease.

“Already ?” whispered Hongjoong as he took the throbbing wet length in his hand, stroking it at a rapid pace before bending down in front of Seonghwa, breath away from his lips. “Will you scream for me when you come, angel ?”

Yes, yes, yes was the only word the singer could say — moaned more than anything — as the air in his lungs came short with his leg bent down on him.

But did he really care ?

Not with a hot Hongjoong on top of him, stroking him like his life depended on it, making Seonghwa’s arch his back as he opened his mouth in a silent scream, hands clawing at his shoulders.

“Hong-Hongjoong yes I’m- Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” screamed Seonghwa, locking eyes with the nodding producer, centimeters away from his lips.

“I’m not, I’m only starting…” whimpered the producer with furrowed brows as he finally felt his untouched length in his constricted pants.

High pitched moans and wet sounds were echoing in the apartment as Hongjoong could feel a heel being pressed down against his back but he didn’t care — his eyes never left Seonghwa’s as he grinned his teeth with a throaty scream of his name, coming all over his stomach.

The older’s body shook before sighing heavily, sliding his hand off of Hongjoong as his energy wore out instantly, eyes dazed and lips parted. He could feel the movement slowly decreasing, making Seonghwa twitch as he became oversensitive, putting a hand on top of the producer’s before locking eyes.

“How are you feeling ?” whispered Hongjoong as he kissed the man’s face under him, as he finally got his hands off Seonghwa. “Did I do good ?” 

Little giggles erupted as the singer felt the plump lips on him, as well as his hot breath caressing his sweaty skin. He felt the questions vibrate in his body, as a hand stayed on his waist, thumb circling on top of his hip bone.

“Did you do good…?” repeated the laying man, with a sleepy voice. “Is it really a question ?”

Seonghwa grabbed the collar of Hongjoong’s black button up, before pulling him gently towards him to take his lips again in a soft kiss that made the younger gasp. The hand on the waist moved to grab the milky thigh between them, feeling the muscles move against Hongjoong’s chest as he touched, stroked, massaged the flesh.

“You ruined my top.” said Seonghwa against his lips, as he touched his own release on the beautiful black top he wore — one of his favorites.

“Sorry, angel. I’ll buy you another one.” 

Cheeks burning, Seonghwa hid his face under his hand as Hongjoong walked back to the kitchen, leaving a flushed man on the table, heels clanking on the floor again.

“What’s up with the nickname… That’s so cheeky.” 

“Don’t like it ?” asked Hongjoong, back turned as he washed his hand before taking a paper towel.

Hongjoong heard the clanking of heels on the floor, which made him smirk as he knew Seonghwa was coming back for more, for him, for his touch, and the producer’s heart only ached for this attention.

Ripping another piece of paper, he felt hands on his back before feeling them slide up his shoulder, to touch the collar of the open button up. The touch wasn't hasty, needy or demanding — it was here, searching for something, someone they missed.

“I like it. But why all of a sudden ? Sucking me off turned on a soft spot ?” Seonghwa asked gently as he slid the top off of Hongjoong’s shoulders, kissing his nape with care, feeling his hair rise on his skin.

With a smile, he turned with a paper towel in hand, looking at the ruined top before trying to erase his accomplishment the best he could. In silence, he brushed it off as Seonghwa trapped him by putting his hands on the counter behind Hongjoong.

“I always had a soft spot for you, Seonghwa. You were just too blind or too scared to see it.” finally responded to the producer, looking up to lock eyes with Seonghwa’s flushed face as he bit his lips. 

Without stopping the eye contact, the younger took his top off and put it down on the counter as Seonghwa’s leg came between Hongjoong’s, heel clanking again. The producer's head lifted to match Seonghwa’s height difference, as he towered him with a dazed and vulnerable gaze, feet brushing against his leg.

“Want more ?” whispered Hongjoong, seeing the man’s face approaching, seeking contact as their lips brushed against each other. Seonhwa nodded, biting his lips as a little moan left his lips, a moan of impatience, greed, need, plea — Hongjoong didn’t know. 

However, feeling Seonghwa’s body pressed against his made him gasp as he finally remembered his aching length in his pants.

“Want me to fuck you ?” asked the producer again, breath short against the full needy lips. He saw them quiver with a small and shaky Yes, which Hongjoong grasped immediately as his own patience was faltering.

Hongjoong’s hands circled the man’s waist with a kiss — a waist that always made his heart throb at how snatched it was — to pull him against his body as he turned them around to have Seonghwa pushed against the counter.

The height difference made the producer’s mind spin. He adored the fact that the singer was taller than him — to see such a tall man look down with a shiny and doe eye look every time he wanted something was very endearing.

However, right now ? With the high black heels ?

Seonghwa was powerful. Powerful enough to have Hongjoong on his knees with his hands tied and mouth used but here he was, pleading and whimpering against the small man like he was the only source of control he could rely on.

Hongjoong brows furrowed thinking about the flashes of dreams he had with Seonghwa on top of him, towering him as he bounced on him, moaning his name. 

The hold he had around the man’s waist accentuated, as the kiss followed the tension, making them gasp as their bodies rubbed against each other.

“Want me to-” started Seonghwa, before being cut by Hongjoong’s lips again, hands flying around the producer’s neck as he felt his leg being lifted up again. “Want me to take my heels off ?”

“No. Please, no.” immediately responded Hongjoong in a whimper, nearly afraid tone, as his face harbored a desperate expression, making Seonghwa moan a curse against his lips.

The singer hooked his leg around Hongjoong’s hips, keeping him close, as his hands all over him weren't enough. Their mouths danced in rhythm as Hongjoong started unbuttoning the beautifully cut top that he perfectly ruined — without regret — and felt hands around his own pants, gripping, pulling…

All he knew was the moans against his lips, the shivers at his touch, the desperation of the pulls — he knew how to grant them.

“How do you want to do this ?” managed to ask Hongjoong between hot kisses, as he gently slid the top off of Seonghwa’s shoulders.

Seonghwa looked into his eyes before letting a moan slip out, as he felt the man’s lips against his chest, neck, collarbone — everywhere where the top lastly stood.

“I want… I want you…” 

Hongjoong laughed softly against the hot skin, tracing a trail of love up his jaw to his ear. “I know, angel. But do you want me a certain way, is what I’m asking.” he whispered with a smile.

Seonghwa stared in a daze, cupping Hongjoong’s jaw to guide him to his lips again, making the younger sigh in bliss and slide his hand across his chest. A soft moan went past the singer’s lips as Hongjoong’s fingers brushed against his nipples before taking the gold necklace in between his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful, Hwa.” 

Locking eyes, the singer bit his lip in a flush before straightening himself, heels clanking against the floor and making Hongjoong sigh in delight as he gazed up, sliding his hand down to rest them on Seonghwa’s hips.

“I want to be taken care of… Be loved.” finally answered the older, chills erupting on his body under Hongjoong’s deep gaze, tracing his body up and down as if he was looking at a dainty sculpture no one ever laid eyes on. “I want you to make love to me, Hongjoong… Please.”

My god were the helpless words the producer managed to respond, as he clasped his hand around Seonghwa’s waist to pull him closer, nose cuddling at his neck. 

Slowly, Hongjoong guided them in a direction Seonghwa didn’t even focus on, too under the spell as he sighed, feeling lips against his collarbone and crook of his neck. The singer knew he liked that area — no wonder he always put pretty necklaces and beautifully cut tops.

“You’re too good to us,” started Hongjoong in a breathy voice as Seonghwa felt the back of his knee hit a soft material, before letting himself fall with the producer’s help. “Always taking care of us, praising us, putting us in the spotlight.”

Seonghwa shivered, deep voice echoing in his ear as he slid his hands down Hongjoong’s body to seize the other man’s pants before pulling him down on him, making them moan in harmony as the younger impulsively humped down.

“I need to go for a moment, find the things that we need.” said the producer, not stopping his movement and making Seonghwa moan against his lips, hands sliding to his ass as he smiled, feeling Hongjoong’s muscles. 

“You have such a nice ass.”

Hongjoong stopped himself with a laugh, nearly choking against Seonghwa's neck. 

“Well thank you.” laughed the producer as he locked eyes with the man under him, kissing his cheek with another gentle laugh, seeing Seonghwa’s dazed look, too far gone to have any sense of embarrassment. “You know what would be nicer ?”

The older felt teeth pulling at his lobe, gasping as Hongjoong opened his mouth again to whisper : 

“If you could stroke yourself for me on the couch while I try my best to find the lube and some condom. Can you do that ?”

Moaning, Seonghwa nodded as he took his length in his hand in a second, moving up and down without taking his eyes off Hongjoong. The producer let out a curse before stumbling back to his bedroom.

The singer laughed before frowning his brows, looking down on him as he stroked himself with care — a care he was craving. 

Taking care of others was one of his favourite things, everybody knew that. But what about him ?

He liked to be complimented, pampered, cared for, whispered words of love, caressed — which Hongjoong offered him everyday but in a restraint. The leader always complimented him… in front of others. Pampered… with the members. Whispered words of love… as a team. 

Seonghwa wanted to be a special someone. That’s why he was giving this treatment to everyone — he hoped to have it back. And he did have it back with Wooyoung’s kisses, San’s compliments, Yunho’s care…

But he wanted Hongjoong. 

A lewd moan erupted in the apartment with Seonghwa’s thoughts, shivers down his spine, imagining what would happen next as his movements became sloppy. Thrusting, pounding, bouncing, scratching, kissing, loving — he would take everything.

“Hongjoong…” moaned the man as he arched his back, moving his hips against his hand, looking at the door, waiting for the man to come back. “Joon- aaah. More.” 

Heels moving against the couch, Seonghwa touched his chest with a shaky hand, displayed completely bare and vulnerable, a moaning mess as his hair laid messily on a pillow. His eyes finally met Hongjoong’s, coming back from the room with his hands occupied — one with lube and the other with protection.

“Fuck, Hwa, I could hear you across the apartment,” quickly said the producer in a breath, as he took his place back in between Seonghwa’s thighs.

“I want you… Want you.” 

Hongjoong looked at the dazed singer below him, moving his hand lower, leaving his length to caress his inner thigh and move a leg up for the producer to grab — which he did without an ounce of hesitation.

“Can I prepare myself ?” said the singer, taking the lube in his hand without waiting for a response. With a sound, he opened it and stroked two fingers together, warming it up before moving his hand down.

“Wh-What do I do…?” asked Hongjoong with a shaking voice, gulping as he saw the beautiful man enter one finger inside him with a moan.

Seonghwa didn’t respond. He simply moved his leg out of the producer’s grasp to put it against his shoulder as a support and cupped Hongjoong’s neck with his other unoccupied hand. Moaning, he felt his finger slowly sliding inside of him, not breaking eye contact with the younger.

A curse went past Hongjoong’s lips as he took himself in his pants at the view, a throaty moan escaping him after delaying his pleasure for Seonghwa’s — which he was happy to do and would do it again. But feeling a slow stroke on his throbbing length made his body shake as he grabbed the leg on his shoulder before kissing it with a painful expression.

“Hongjoong…”

The said man nodded, looking at the singer that moaned his name with a sigh. He didn’t ask anything and yet, this simple plea made Hongjoong’s attention shift — he nodded, looked, analysed — and granted every attention Seonghwa wanted.

Or the attention Hongjoong needed to give. They didn’t know. But they were both diving into each other without any ounce of regret.

Another finger interred the older, making his back arch as his hand on Hongjoong’s neck slid on his shoulder, clawing at it as he felt the muscles beneath his fingers twitch. 

“You’re doing so well, angel…” said Hongjoong in a hoarse voice, still panting from his own hand movements. “So good for me, hmm ?”

With a gasp, Seonghwa nodded frantically before moving his other hand, sliding it across Hongjoong’s body to join the fist on the throbbing length. Moaning, Hongjoong bent down to kiss him leisurely, enjoying every stroke the other was giving him, craving for more and at the same time, not wanting anything else.

“Take me… Hongjoong-” pleaded Seonghwa, guiding the singer at his entrance to replace his fingers.

“Wait- I didn’t put on a condom.”

 “Please. You’re the only one. Please…”

Locking eyes with the singer, the only thing Hongjoong could see was passion, daze, mist… Love. He could see love. Burning love that screamed to be reciprocated, to be shared, to be revealed.

Hongjoong stopped his movements and just… Looked. He looked at the man under him — he looked at his pink cheeks, his quivering lips, his shiny eyes as tears threatened to overflow. He looked at the gold necklace laying gently on his collarbone, the aureate reflecting the light above, he looked at his chest, moving up and down as a hand brushed gently on his stomach.

He saw the desire the man had for him — it was the first time the man felt so wanted. So cherished. So in control but at the same time… Brows furrowing, breath hitching, moans escaping, hands grasping and stroking, goosebumps all over his body — Hongjoong mirrored Seonghwa’s state perfectly.

The only thing the singer did better was letting go. 

And that was what Seonghwa wanted Hongjoong to do. To just live.

“I love you.”

Seonghwa looked at the man with large eyes, breath calming as his lips closed. Words echoing in his mind, he felt the lubed length gently pressed at his entrance as tears finally dropped on the couch beside him.

“I love you, Seonghwa.” repeated Hongjoong, eyes locked with the man below him, lips parted and brows furrowed as if the realisation just strunk him. “I love you so much…”

With a whimper, the singer grabbed Hongjoong by the neck to guide him in a loving kiss. They could taste the salty tears but they didn’t care — their mouth moved in sync as the producer pushed himself deeper inside the man.

“Hongjoong-” cried Seonghwa, brushing his cheek with his thumb as his other hand grabbed Hongjoong’s, as if touching the man was the last key to survival. “I love-  I-”

“I know, angel… Don’t bother saying it out loud, you’re already doing so much.” responded Hongjoong, rolling his hips and making Seonghwa arch his back with a moan.

Heartbeat echoing, movements in synch, breaths ragged, the apartment was now filled with an intimacy much more different than before — a reciprocated belonging that both men craved for too long.

Hongjoong's hand never stopped to fondle Seonghwa’s thigh against his chest, watching the man crumble as his hips rolled gently against the older, moaning in a daze. The laying man slid his hand on the producer’s chest to grab his moving hips, biting his lips as he felt every muscle underneath the hot skin.

“Feel so good…” whispered Hongjoong as he moved down to kiss Seonghwa, making the man whimper as he rolled his eyes, feeling his body being pushed down and his leg being folded on top of him. 

Hongjoong, so deep, so good, more were the only words that Seonghwa could make in his mind as his entire being screamed the name of the man thrusting into him. It wasn’t rough, commanding or restrained but it was everything the singer could think of.

Being cared for. Being worshiped.

Opening his eyes, Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong’s face, broken in pleasure as he kissed the man’s leg before sliding his hand on his waist, groping the skin with shaky hands. The singer bit his lips seeing the younger one like that, so deep in pleasure — so deep in the pleasure Seonghwa was procuring him. 

He felt his waist being slightly lifted, a throaty moan going past his lips as he arched his back, feeling Hongjoong’s movements intensify. Hongjoong never stopped touching, groping, stroking, caressing — But it was delicate.

Everything Hongjoong did struck a nerve inside of the singer. It was as if Hongjoong, analysed, studied, researched, explored every fantasy and want Seonghwa needed. 

He never changed rhythm, rolling his hips in the same pace and same precision so Seonghwa could feel. Never stop roaming his hands on his body, honouring each and every detail on his body, leaving kisses where he could and maybe a mark from time to time, to remember his faithful believer passed by. Always looking at Seonghwa, locking eyes, looking at his lips, his chest, his flushed cheeks, his hands — grabbing everything he could and always finishing their course on Hongjoong’s body.

All those details made Seonghwa’s mind spin, overwhelming pleasure overtaking him as his prostate never took a rest.

“Don’t stop…” whispered Seonghwa as he felt a knot form in his stomach at those thoughts, lifting his other leg that Hongjoong caught without hesitation, putting it against his chest too. “Don’t ch- an-”

Hongjoong nodded in a haze as a smug appeared on his face, sliding both his hands on Seongha’s thighs before grabbing them, feeling the muscles as the singer’s moaning gained in volume. 

“Don’t change anything ?” repeated the producer, as Seonghwa nodded frantically, grabbing Hongjoong’s hands on his waist. “You’re gonna come just like that, angel ?”

The younger accentuated his rolls as Seonghwa screamed a loud Yes, head shooting backward and tears flowing on the couch. A curse went past Hongjoong’s lips, seeing the older unravel beneath him, legs shaking against his chest as one heel fell on the ground.

Feeling his orgasm reach his high, Seonghwa moved his legs to grab Hongjoong by the hips and pull him close, sweaty bodies pressed against each other.

“Yes, Hongjoong. Yes, yes-” screamed Seonghwa in the producer’s neck, grabbing the back of his hair as he pulled harshly.

Hongjoong left hot kisses against the singer’s face, seeing Seonghwa open his mouth in a silent scream as they felt a release between their squeezing bodies. Furrowing his brows, Hongjoong grabbed the older’s waist roughly, pressing it down as his hips became sloppy, feeling the tight embrace around him as well as Seonghwa’s soft moans against his ear.

“Joong-ah…” he sighed, guiding his face towards him to take his mouth in a hot kiss, tongue moving in sync as Hongjoong’s breaths quickened. “So good. Took care of me, hmm ?” 

Hearing Seongwha’s praises — barely understandable as he didn’t come back from his high — Hongjoong moaned against his lips, nails digging into the soft skin of the singer and gaze diving into the older’s dark eyes.

“Every night I thought about this, about you in my arms…” whispered Seonghwa, brushing the strand of hair out of Hongjoong’s face, gasping as the younger reached for his own release. “You in between my thighs, taking me good.”

“Fuck- Seonghwa.” 

Adorement overflowing directly against his ear, Hongjoong felt his high crash down on him violently, moaning the other’s name in a cry, hips stuttering and hand leaving marks on Seonghwa’s unblemished body.

Rolling his hips to stimulate his orgasm, Seonghwa kissed his neck and jaw, stroking his hair gently as Hongjoong’s body melted on top of the older, hips finally stopping. He sighed against the singer’s neck, caressing the shaky body before sliding a hand on his leg to take the other heel off, freeing Seonghwa.

The older man laughed against Hongjoong, wrapping both of his legs around his hips to pull him close — as if they weren’t pressed against each other already.

“Why are you laughing ?” gently asked Hongjoong, sighing as he straightened himself enough to look at Seonghwa. “Sex is funny ?”

The singer moved his head, circling his arms around the other’s neck with a playful smile.

“Didn’t know you liked heels that much, that’s all.”

“You think I did all this just because you wore heels ?” puffed Hongjoong as he slowly pulled off of Seonghwa, falling next to him before grabbing him by the waist. 

“Don’t want me to wear them anymore ?” teased the man, feeling a hand slide against his leg, leaving goosebumps on his body.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes before kissing the man in front of him, hands wrapping around his hips, pulling him close, afraid to lose a warmth he waited for too long.

“You’re very sexy in heels,” confirmed the producer against the other’s lips, earning a proud giggle.

They kissed again, under the dim light of the apartment, deep into the Italian night.

Outside, the city murmured in quiet contentment—distant laughter, the soft clink of glasses, the rustle of ivy in the breeze. But inside, the world had narrowed to just the two of them. Fingers laced. Foreheads touching. Smiles shared in silence.

No promises were spoken, none were needed. In that moment, everything felt possible.

Love had arrived gently, like the hush before dawn.

And Hongjoong didn’t even think about what the future holds for them. 

Notes:

Also! Don't expect me to stay consistent :\ I have so many stories to write... And I have college. But I will make sure to upload everything here once I finish writing them! (the OS or even other stories.)

I also never used AO3 (as a writer), so maybe I'm going to be a bit lost in the beginning but hopefully I'll settle in fast.