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They were fighting - at least, they were supposed to be.
Suho’s back slammed against the wall with a sharp thud, his jaw locked tight, fists flexing restlessly at his sides. Not from the impact, not even from the fight, but from the way Seongje was looking at him, like he’d already won. That same smug, infuriating stare. That same voice that made Suho’s skin crawl and heat all at once.
“What the hell do you want now?” Suho growled, his words edged with more frustration than he meant to give away.
Seongje’s mouth curved into that lazy, dangerous smile, the one that always spelled trouble. His knuckles were still raw from earlier, and he hadn’t bothered to wipe the blood from his split lip. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t even notice. He just kept grinning, wild and unbothered, his eyes locked on Suho like he was something worth hunting.
“I told you not to walk away from me in the middle of a fight,” he drawled, each step forward slow and deliberate, closing the distance with purpose. That gaze followed Suho like a shadow, one Suho very deliberately refused to acknowledge. “Didn’t like that,” he added, his tone almost casual, but edged like a blade.
“Shut the fuc-”
He didn’t get the chance to finish. Seongje’s hand was already at his throat, not squeezing, but firm enough to still him, to make the air in his lungs falter. Just enough to remind him who had the upper hand. Enough pressure to send a shiver down his spine.
“Still pretending you hate me,” Seongje murmured, voice low and threaded with amusement as he leaned in, his breath hot against Suho’s ear. “But you’re not pushing me away.”
Too close, Suho thought, the words sharp in his head, even as his body betrayed him by staying exactly where it was.
Suho swallowed. His pulse betrayed him, fluttering right under Seongje’s thumb. God, he hated this. Hated that his body always, always gave him away first.
“I should break your jaw,” Suho muttered, the words a low threat that barely carried past the space between them. Seongje’s hand was still wrapped around his throat, steady and unyielding, forcing him to hold his ground. He tried to glare, to pour every ounce of defiance into his eyes, but the heat crawling up his neck and the steady weight of that touch made it harder than he’d like to admit.
Seongje huffed a quiet, almost mocking laugh. “You won’t.” His grip on Suho’s throat tightened just enough to make the air feel heavier before sliding his hand down, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing the curve of Suho’s collarbone, then lower, palm flattening over his chest. And lower still, stopping just before his belt buckle, fingers splaying possessively over the firm plane of Suho’s abdomen.
Grounding? Possessiveness? Or just plain mental? Suho refuses to care. All he feels is the simmering annoyance building in his chest.
Seongje keeps talking, like he’s decided Suho has no choice but to listen to whatever bullshit comes next. “You like it when I touch you like this? All gentle? Like you deserve it? Tell me you like it.”
Suho scoffs, turning his head away. “You’re delusional.”
“And yet,” Seongje’s voice dips lower, all smoke and danger, “you’re hard.”
Seongje’s gaze lingered on the smooth line of Suho’s exposed throat, something hungry and deliberate in the way his eyes traced it. Without a word, he leaned in, letting his breath ghost over the skin before nuzzling into it, slow and unhurried. Suho’s head tipped back against the wall, jaw tight, a muscle ticking as his breathing grew uneven - each inhaled sharper than the last, as if he couldn’t decide whether to resist or give in.
“Shut up.” Suho spat out before grabbing a fistful of Seongje’s shirt and turning his head to crash their mouths together, the kiss all teeth and anger. Seongje let out a low groan at the sting, but it only made him grip harder, twisting the kiss into something rougher, deeper - forcing Suho to feel the hurt right back, until he was gasping against him.
Seongje kissed him like he owned him. Biting, relentless, unforgiving. Suho kissed back like it was both a punishment and a release, a clash of teeth and breathless defiance, a war neither of them planned to lose.
When Suho finally tore himself away, his lips were swollen and tingling, breath coming in uneven pulls like he’d just been dragged under and shoved back up for air. His fingers were still knotted tightly in the fabric of Seongje’s shirt, knuckles pale with the stubborn grip as if daring him to try and move, to try and end this on his terms. But all he got in return was that same infuriating smirk tugging at Seongje’s mouth, the kind that said he’d already won and was enjoying every second of it.
“You can throw all the punches you want,” he murmured, voice low and sure. “You still crawl back to me every single time.”
Suho didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when his knees were threatening to give out. Not when Seongje already had him exactly where he wanted. Trapped. Breathless. Unable to deny a single word.
But then, with a sudden shove, Suho pushed him back. Hard enough to break the tension between them, though Seongje barely stumbled. Without another glance, Suho turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his footsteps sharp in the quiet.
Seongje just stood there, watching him leave. His smirk slowly curled back into place. And started to trail after him.