Work Text:
The bedroom door locks with a soft click, the lamp on Hongjoong's bedside table emitting a dim, warm glow across his room. He gets into bed, draws his knees up, silently opens the nightstand drawer to retrieve the old iPad hidden beneath the junk in there.
The earphones are still connected to the port, evidence of his haste to hide his indiscretions the last time he did this.
This is wrong.
He presses the power button, holds until the logo appears. He unplugs the earphones from the port, shoves it back in to ensure it's secure.
His heart is racing. He taps in the passcode.
Volume all the way down, and then up two notches. Never three. He presses the earphones into his ears as he glances over at the bedroom door. Locked.
He swipes left. The folder is there, just like it always is. With slightly trembling hands, Hongjoong taps it open.
Feed One. Feed Two. Feed Three.
His palms are clammy. There's a chill in his bedroom, the aircon kicking on above him and sending a shiver up his spine. He taps the middle icon, the second feed.
It takes a moment — always does — and then the image flickers to life.
He trusts you.
A bathroom, bird's eye view. Hospital-grade spotless. A fogged-up mirror in the bottom corner.
Dead center, though, is the shower stall. The water is running. Dark hair, miles of wet, shining skin…
Hongjoong is rock hard.
He can't even say how it all started, how long it's been, how many times he has done this.
This is the last time.
He tells himself that every time.
He watches the practiced movements, chewing his bottom lip as Seonghwa lathers shampoo into his hair. The video feed isn't quite precise enough, but Hongjoong imagines he can see the way Seonghwa's eyelashes stick together when they're wet like this. He imagines he can feel the heat and steam of the bathroom fogging up his senses.
Seonghwa rinses his hair, his biceps taut as he pushes it back and out of his face. Hongjoong allows his eyes to wander over the planes of Seonghwa's lean back as he turns for a rag and soap. He loves this part.
Seonghwa's back is toward the camera as he soaps up his neck and shoulders and chest, his hands pressing firmly into the muscles while he washes himself. Very faintly, almost imperceptible with the low volume of Hongjoong's earphones, there comes a quiet groan emanating from Seonghwa's lips as he loosens up a knot in his shoulder.
Hongjoong's breathing quickens, briefly fogging up the screen of his iPad, and when did he get so close to it like that? When did he start gaping open-mouthed like a fucking fish about this? Fuck.
Hongjoong holds his breath as Seonghwa turns around, exposing everything to the camera hidden in the light fixture of his bathroom.
Creep.
Hongjoong finds himself squeezing the base of his swollen cock, subtly rocking against his hand as Seonghwa washes himself there — the soap lathers heavily, Seonghwa is squeezing himself as well, just barely enough to stimulate himself. Hongjoong watches his face, his teeth pressing into his bottom lip as Seonghwa starts to stroke himself in earnest.
He doesn't always do this. Not in the shower, anyway. Not every time Hongjoong watches him. But boy is it a treat on the nights that he does…
The rag Seonghwa was using has been discarded onto the floor of the shower in favor of his hand, his long cock jutting out as he fucks into his fist. Hongjoong groans, matching Seonghwa's slow and steady rhythm, incapable of dragging his eyes from the taut muscles of his arms, the thigh propped up on the shower seat to give him leverage to his agonizingly slow movements. Seonghwa moans, and it's almost loud in Hongjoong's ears, reverberating through his brain and traveling all the way down to his curled toes.
"Oh, God, oh fuck…" Hongjoong hears himself whisper, leaking precome into his sleep pants.
Seonghwa throws his head back as his climax overtakes him, whining loud and spurting long thick ropes of cum across the shower, eyes wide open and —
"Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Hongjoong slams the power button, holding holding holding until the screen goes black and he tosses it away from him, earphones popping out of his ears in his panic. He's panting, gasping for air.
The image of Seonghwa's eyes, staring directly — daringly — at the camera is seared into Hongjoong's brain.
With shaking, sweaty hands, Hongjoong collects the offending tablet and puts it back where it goes, beneath the hurricane of detritus in his bedside drawer, a farce of forgotten tech that he never uses anymore.
This is a first. Seonghwa has never made direct eye contact with the camera like that before. He's glanced in the direction of the one stashed away in his bedroom — Feed One — but this is brand new territory.
Does he know?
Will he mention it to his security staff?
Is the jig finally up?
He's still hard. Painfully so. He tries for awhile to bring himself off, but despite his throbbing, desperate erection, he can't seem to get himself there.
He tries everything. Hongjoong digs through the drawer again, untaping the envelope that hides his stash of photos, printed from screen grabs of his favorite videos, from the space between the back of the drawer and his wall. The envelope is starting to look thick; he's going to need to trim down the number of photos he has soon…
A problem for another night. For now, he shuffles through them as he strokes himself.
Seonghwa, stretched across his mattress, back bowed as he clutches his sheets, face screwed up in rapturous pleasure, his release painting his rippling abdomen. Hongjoong can't come.
Seonghwa, two fingers plunged deep in his hole, cum dribbling from the tip of his cock. He was so close to the nanny cam hidden in the eye of the stuffed rabbit he keeps on his bed for this one, a delicious memory that Hongjoong returns to time and time again. Hongjoong can't come.
Seonghwa, sucking his own cum off his fingers, wearing a blissful expression, lips shining with his smeared release. Hongjoong still cannot come.
Frustrated, still thrumming with the panic of nearly being caught, Hongjoong can do nothing but give up for the night. He tosses and turns, replaying the moment his eyes met Seonghwa's through the screen in his head.
Sleep eludes him.
What will he say to Seonghwa tomorrow? What explanation can he give him? Will he have to? There's no way Seonghwa could possibly know it's him, right? He hasn't incriminated himself in any way. How should he react when Seonghwa inevitably brings it up?
He checks his phone. Nothing in the group chat, nothing directly from Seonghwa. Maybe Hongjoong was imagining things. Maybe he didn't see the camera. Maybe it's the paranoia, the guilt he stews in every day because of this dirty compulsion of his.
This has to be the last time.
He tells himself this every time. It's never the last time…
Heart racing again, Hongjoong carefully retrieves the iPad from the drawer. Just to check. Just to see if Seonghwa is still awake, unsettled, searching his room for anything out of place.
Feed Three is Hongjoong's most guilty pleasure. The stuffed rabbit nanny cam. It usually captures Seonghwa at his softest, his most unguarded. Equipped with a night vision setting, the nanny cam feed is the one Hongjoong opens on his loneliest nights.
Tonight, the feed opens to total darkness, and for a moment Hongjoong is certain the camera has been captured. But then… Seonghwa's soft snores…
He's asleep. Seonghwa is asleep and he's holding the stuffed rabbit.
It's easier for Hongjoong to draw a full breath, now that he knows Seonghwa hasn't been tearing his room apart looking for cameras. The tension leaves his body and he sighs, lightheaded as he comes down from what was certainly a borderline panic attack.
Sleep is brief, restless, riddled with nightmares of a confrontation, a fight, a public scandal. His career would be over. Shame, guilt, grief, the gnawing sense that he's a terribly pathetic pervert who could have his pick of bed partners, but still this is how he chooses to get off.
He trusts you. He's your friend.
Morning comes far too soon. Hongjoong is quiet as he readies himself for the day ahead — he and Seonghwa are booked for the majority of the day at the studio to record the vocals for Seonghwa's solo song, and then afterwards, Seonghwa will take the demo with him down the hall to the dance studio to work on the choreography while Hongjoong locks himself away in his own studio to finalize the track.
After doing his very best to scrub away the remnants of his filthy shame with a scalding hot shower, Hongjoong trudges to the studio. There, he meets with the prodicer, who's already seated at his station and tinkering with the settings. One of the staff noonas is in the booth, setting up a camera there to capture Seonghwa as he records his vocals.
Hongjoong loves when Seonghwa is the main character of a Logbook or a Behind, and the fact that he'd been so preoccupied stressing out over his own recordings that this inevitability had slipped his mind is… troubling.
Hongjoong double checks himself; his tee shirt is clean and oversized, his hair fluffy the way he knows Atiny likes the best, his shorts just a shade too short… but it's fine. He's sure he won't be in the video too much anyway, this is Seonghwa's moment.
Seonghwa is effortlessly beautiful when he shows up. His hair is still long, falling just past his chin and pushed back beneath a backwards baseball cap. His black tank top is fitted, outlining the lean curves of his chest, his tapered waist…
He locks eyes with Hongjoong, who feels a shiver zing up his spine at the memory of those same big, dark eyes meeting his through the feed…
"Good morning, Hongjoongie," Seonghwa says, casually, as if it's just another morning in the studio and nothing is amiss, as if Hongjoong hasn't lost all ability to breathe.
"Good morning," Hongjoong mumbles in return, shooting for tired and landing somewhere in the realm of anxious and awkward.
They work, and while they work, they watch one another, circling like sharks. They keep their tone light, casual, almost playfully flirtatious, but there's a sharpness to Seonghwa's voice when he speaks directly to Hongjoong. That sharpness does not bleed into his vocals.
Hours pass like this, driving toward the result they're searching for, that sweet spot between yearning and seductive that Seonghwa is so good at. His voice is rich and clear, the practiced vocal runs coming in easy and clean.
Hongjoong finds himself forgetting about last night, sinking into this work that he loves, praising Seonghwa's ad-libs and really relaxing for the first time in hours.
When Seonghwa finishes, he smiles at Hongjoong through the glass that separates them, and holds out half a heart in his direction — almost certainly for the cameras all around them. Hongjoong smiles back, completes the heart, and they both remove their headphones at the same time.
His production partner on the track tells him he'll make some edits and clean up the demo for Seonghwa to use for choreography, urges Hongjoong to take a break before finalizing the track for submission.
Hongjoong heads for the bathroom, feeling buoyed by the hours of recording and production.
Seonghwa is already here, and Hongjoong is startled when he pushes open the door.
"Ah…" Hongjoong begins, suddenly unsure of what to say.
"Will you stay?" Seonghwa asks, cutting him off and crowding Hongjoong against the wall beside the door. "For the choreography, I mean."
Hongjoong is searching for an excuse. Any excuse. He's tired he's hungry he can't be in the same room with Seonghwa right now or he will have to crawl out of his skin. But Seonghwa is so so close to him. He can feel the heat of his body, of his breath on his lips and Hongjoong cannot find his voice, so Seonghwa goes on.
His voice is quiet, rich, seductive when he murmurs, "I'd like to have someone here… to watch… and you like watching me, don't you, Hongjoongie?"
He knows.
Hongjoong cannot speak. He cannot breathe. He cannot move.
He is rock hard in his shorts.
Seonghwa's gaze, locked with Hongjoong's, dips briefly — looks down at Hongjoong's crotch — and he draws that gaze back up to stare directly into Hongjoong's eyes again.
"Thought so."
And as quickly as he was there, Seonghwa is gone, pulling the door open and leaving Hongjoong alone in the bathroom.