Work Text:
The dorm’s living room was a mess of limbs and laughter, everyone sprawled across the couches and the carpet like they’d been poured there. Empty ramyeon cups and half-finished bags of chips littered the coffee table. Chan clapped his hands twice to get attention, the way he always did when he was about to drop something big.
“Listen up!” he announced, voice bright. “Company just confirmed. Next week we’re flying to Europe. Milan, actually. Some huge fashion week thing wants us to perform, and while we’re there we’re shooting a new SKZ-CODE. Two birds, one very stylish stone.”
The room detonated.
“Europe?!” Felix yelled, launching himself at Chan so hard they both toppled backward over the armrest.
“Milan, baby!” Changbin flexed dramatically. “Time to serve looks.”
Hyunjin was already googling runway shows on his phone. “Do you think they’ll let me walk? I could walk. I was born to walk.”
Seungmin snorted. “You’d trip on the first step and blame the lighting.”
“Rude but probably accurate,” Hyunjin sighed.
Han Jisung, curled on the beanbag in the corner, had gone very still. His phone was face-down on his lap, thumbs frozen mid-scroll. Lee Know noticed—he always noticed when Han went quiet, because Han was never quiet. But the younger boy recovered fast, forcing a squeak of excitement that sounded only fifty percent fake.
“Milan! Gelato every day!” Han cheered, pumping a fist. His eyes, though—those big, round deer eyes—kept skittering away every time Lee Know tried to catch them. Weird. Han usually stared at him like he was personally offended by Lee Know’s existence. Today he seemed… shifty.
Chan clapped again. “Before we all start packing designer tears and Hyunjin’s entire skincare fridge, we need to decide rooms. Eight people, four hotel rooms, two beds each. We’re doing it the democratic way.” He held up a deck of cards. “Highest card picks first, then picks their roommate. Losers get stuck with whoever’s left. Ready?”
Groans and cheers mixed together.
They sat in a messy circle on the floor. Chan shuffled dramatically, fanning the cards like a Vegas dealer. One by one they drew.
Felix pulled a king and immediately started bouncing. “I’m free! World is mine!”
Changbin flipped a two and fake-cried into Seungmin’s shoulder. “I’m going to end up with Hyunjin’s 3 a.m. existential crying again.”
“Excuse you,” Hyunjin said, drawing a queen and smirking, “my crying is scheduled for 4 a.m. now. Respect the brand.”
Han went near the end. His fingers hesitated over the fan of cards, then snatched one. He flipped it: seven of hearts. Not great, not terrible. He gave a tiny, relieved exhale.
Lee Know was last. He drew slowly, savoring the drama, then turned over an ace of spades.
The room erupted.
“Of course he gets the ace,” Seungmin muttered.
“Hyung privileges,” Changbin teased.
Lee Know leaned back on his palms, scanning the circle with lazy cat eyes. “Hmm. Decisions, decisions.”
Han suddenly found the carpet pattern fascinating.
Chan went first as was leader privilege even with a lower card. “I’m taking Jeongin. Sorry, children, maknae distribution laws.”
Jeongin pumped both fists. “Hyung privileges accepted!”
Felix grabbed Hyunjin before anyone could blink. “Pretty boy room, let’s go. We’re doing face masks and gossip.”
Hyunjin flung himself across Felix’s lap. “I love you more than oxygen.”
Seungmin and Changbin looked at each other, shrugged, and fist-bumped. “Guess we’re stuck together again,” Changbin said.
“Great,” Seungmin deadpanned. “Wake me when the snoring competition ends.”
Which left exactly two people.
Lee Know smiled, slow and sharp. “Looks like it’s me and Jisungie.”
Han’s head snapped up. His ears went pink instantly. “M-me? Cool! Cool cool cool, totally fine, hyung and I are—” He made a series of vague hand gestures that meant absolutely nothing. “—roommates! Again! Hilarious how that keeps happening!”
Everyone else was already arguing over who got the room with the balcony and who had to suffer the street-view noise, so only Lee Know caught the way Han’s voice cracked on the last word.
Lee Know tilted his head. “You okay, Hannie? You look like you just lost rock-paper-scissors to a ghost.”
Han laughed too loud. “What? No! I’m great! Europe! Fashion! Gelato! I’m thriving!” He scrambled to his feet. “I’m gonna—pack—mentally. In my room. Byyyyye.”
He bolted.
The members blinked after him.
“Someone’s excited,” Chan chuckled.
Lee Know said nothing. He just watched the spot where Han had disappeared, thumb rubbing absently over the edge of his winning ace.
Something was definitely up.
Later that evening, after the room-drawing chaos had settled, Lee Know found Chan in the kitchen refilling his water bottle. The leader was humming something under his breath, scrolling through flight confirmations.
“Hyung,” Lee Know said quietly, leaning against the counter. “Can we swap rooms?”
Chan glanced up, surprised. “The big one with the balcony? I thought you didn’t care about views.”
“I don’t. But Jisung’s… off.” Lee Know folded his arms. “He’s doing that thing where he smiles too big and won’t look anyone in the eye. Reminds me of 5-star era right before he stopped sleeping. I just think the balcony might help. Fresh air, space, whatever.”
Chan’s face softened instantly. They all remembered those months—how small and brittle Han had seemed, how they’d started checking on him in shifts without ever saying it out loud.
“Yeah. Of course.” Chan didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll take the smaller one with I.N. He’ll be thrilled—he’s been begging for late-night gaming sessions anyway.”
Lee Know nodded once. “Thanks.”
He found Han in the hallway, hugging a hoodie to his chest like a shield.
“Hey, princess,” Lee Know said, using the nickname just to watch Han’s ears turn red. “Good news. Chan’s giving us the suite with the massive balcony. You’re welcome.”
Han’s whole face lit up—pure, sunshine-bright. “Really?! Hyung, that’s—wait.” His smile faltered. “Didn’t Chan draw that room?”
“He traded. Said something about wanting to spoil the maknae. You know how he is.”
Han bounced on his toes, practically vibrating. “A balcony in Milan! We can watch the sunrise and—oh my god, thank you, thank you—”
He threw his arms around Lee Know’s waist in a quick, fierce hug before he seemed to remember himself and stepped back, cheeks flaming.
Lee Know just smirked. “Don’t thank me yet. Still only one bed.”
Han froze.
“One… bed?” His voice came out a squeak.
“King-size, apparently. Very luxurious. Very… shared.”
Han opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “I—I can sleep on the floor! Or the couch! Or I’ll ask Felix if he—”
“Relax,” Lee Know laughed, low and amused. “We’ve shared before. You kick, I steal blankets. We’re professionals.”
Han made a strangled noise and fled.
Milan, three days later.
The hotel suite was ridiculous: floor-to-ceiling windows, a terrace bigger than their dorm living room, and yes—one single, obnoxiously large bed piled with pillows like it was daring them to fight over it.
Chan’s voice crackled through the hallway. “Three hours, children! Show starts at eight, be pretty by then!”
Doors slammed. Showers started running. Suitcases exploded.
Han grabbed his toiletry bag. “I’m showering first!” he called, already halfway to the bathroom. “Don’t touch my skincare, I swear to god, Minho-hyung—”
He tossed his phone onto the bed to free his hands.
The screen didn’t lock.
Lee Know glanced over—and stopped.
The display was bright. Open tab: Archive of Our Own.
Top of the page, bold letters: Minsung | Explicit | 2/2 Chapters Tags: Surprise Sex, Public Teasing, Possessive Lee Know, Bottom Han Jisung, Backstage Sex, Canon-compliant, Begging, Edging
Below it, another recently opened fic. Same pairing. Same tags. And another. And another.
Lee Know’s pulse did something slow and dangerous.
He picked up the phone.
Thumb hovering. One swipe. Two.
He shouldn’t.
He did.
Title: Quiet on Set (or hyung will hear)
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Surprise Sex, Public Teasing, Possessive Lee Know, Mirror Sex, Risk of Getting Caught
He scrolled.
The scene started right after an encore. Fictional-Han was still in his stage outfit; cropped black mesh shirt, silver harness, sweat making everything cling. Fictional-Lee Know shoved him face-first against the dressing-room mirror, the one that faced the door the rest of the members were literally standing behing and packing up.
"One sound," the fic-Lee Know growled, hand clamped tight over Jisung's mouth, "and Chan-hyung walks in here and sees you like this. Sees you dripping for me while you prtend you don't want it."
Jisung's eyes in the mirror were huge, glassy, pleading. He shook his head frantically, but his hips rolled back on their own, grinding against the hard line of Lee Know's cock through their pants.
"That's it," Lee Know hissed, yanking Jisung's pants down just enough to bare him. "Keep lying to yourself. Push back harder, baby. Show hyung how much you need to be fucked quiet."
When Lee Know finally pushed in; no prep, just spit and desperation, Jisung's muffled scream fogged the mirror. Every thrust shoved his cheek against the glass, the door rattling in its frame every time someone on the other side leaned against it.
"Heart that?" Lee Know whispered, curel and loving. "That's Felix laughing. Ten feet away. And you're cumming on my cock anyway."
Lee Know's throat went dry. He shifted on the bed, suddenly aware of how tight his own jeans had become.
He swiped to the next open tab.
Title: 3:17 a.m. (don't lock your door)
Tags: Somnophilia (consensual), CNC, Dorm Sex, Possessive Behavior, Creampie
The dorm was dead quiet, everyone finally asleep after practice. Lee Know padded barefoot down the hallway, pushed Jisung's door open without knocking; because it was unlocked. Again.
Jisung was on his stomach, one leg kicked out of the blanket, wearing nothing but an oversized Stay hoodie and those ridiculous duck-print boxers. Moonlight striped across his back.
Lee Know crawled onto the bed, slow, predator-silent. He peeled the boxers down just enough, spread Jisung open with both thumbs.
"Knew you'd leave it open for me," he whispered against the shell of Jisung's ear as two fingers slid in, slick with lube he'd warmed in his palm. "Always pretending you forget. Always soaking wet before I even touch you."
Jisung stirred, confused little whimpers muffed into the pillow. His hips lifted instinctively, chasing even in his sleep.
"Shh," Lee Know soothed, free hand stroking his spine. "Go back to sleep, baby. Just let hyung use what's hit."
By the time Jisung was fully awake, Lee Know was already buried inside him, fucking him slow, deep strokes that made the headboard creak softly. Jisung's hands scrabbled at the sheets, torn between pushing back and pretending to protest.
"You can say no," Lee Know breathed against his nape, hips snapping harder. "Say it and I'll stop. Or you can cum on my cock while the members sleep ten feet away and pretend tomorrow you didn't beg for it."
He never said no.
Lee Know read every word.
He wasn’t shocked. Wasn’t disgusted.
He was hard.
And suddenly, painfully aware of how easy it would be to make some of those scenes real tonight—right under the noses of staff, cameras, the rest of the members. The fashion show had a private backstage area. The after-party had dark corners. The van ride back would be cramped and loud.
Han wanted surprise. Wanted teasing. Wanted to pretend he didn’t.
Lee Know smiled, slow and sharp, and closed the phone.
He placed it exactly where Han had left it, screen down this time.
Then he walked to his suitcase, pulled out the black silk shirt he’d been saving for tonight, and started getting dressed.
Tonight, Han Jisung was going to get everything he’d been secretly reading about.
And he wouldn’t even see it coming.
The hotel lobby was a storm of stylists, managers, and eight boys trying not to trip over their own designer shoes. Cameras flashed for the departure content; staff barked about schedules. Han stood near the revolving doors, fidgeting with the cuff of his black blazer, the one that hugged his waist a little too perfectly.
He felt the touch before he registered it: one single fingertip, feather-light, tracing the line of his spine from the base of his tailbone all the way up between his shoulder blades. Slow. Deliberate. Like someone testing how easily skin could remember a path.
Han jolted, spinning around so fast his earrings swung.
Lee Know stood right behind him, expression innocent as milk.
“Sorry,” Lee Know said, soft enough only Han could hear. “There was something on your back. Lint, maybe.”
Han opened his mouth. Closed it. His entire nervous system was screaming.
Because Lee Know’s eyes weren’t innocent at all. They were half-lidded, dark, fixed on Han like he was the only person in the crowded lobby.
Before Han could stammer a response, Lee Know’s hand settled low on his waist, guiding him toward the exit. The touch looked casual to everyone else—just hyung steering dongsaeng through the chaos. But his thumb pressed right above the waistband of Han’s slacks, a tiny, steady pressure that felt like a brand.
They stepped outside into the Milan evening, cool air and golden streetlights. The van idled at the curb.
As the others piled in ahead of them, Lee Know leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Han’s ear.
“Do you have any idea,” he murmured, voice velvet and dangerous, “how fucking pretty you look all dressed up like this, jagiya?”
Han’s knees actually buckled a fraction. Lee Know’s arm tightened instantly, holding him upright, fingers splayed possessively across his hipbone.
Jagiya.
Lee Know called everyone pet names—baby, princess, jagi, sweetheart, whatever struck his mood. It was never not playful. Never not teasing.
This was different.
This was the voice from the fanfics. Low and filthy and deliberate, like Lee Know had practiced saying it in a mirror just to watch Han fall apart.
Han’s face burned so hot he was scared the makeup noona would notice and march him back upstairs for repairs. He ducked his head, letting his hair fall forward to hide the flush crawling down his neck.
They reached the van. Lee Know let everyone else climb in first, then placed a hand on Han’s lower back again—gentle, guiding, but the heat of his palm felt like it was searing straight through fabric.
Han scrambled into the backseat, heart hammering against his ribs. He pressed his thighs together, mortified, because he was half-hard already and the night hadn’t even started.
Lee Know slid in beside him, thigh brushing Han’s like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just unraveled Han with six words and a fingertip.
The van doors slammed shut. The driver pulled away from the curb.
Han stared straight ahead, counting streetlights, trying to breathe.
Lee Know leaned back, casual, one arm stretched along the back of the seat behind Han’s shoulders.
Under the cover of darkness and engine noise, his fingers found the nape of Han’s neck—barely there, just the graze of knuckles.
Han shivered so hard the member across from them asked if he was cold.
“N-no,” Han managed, voice cracking. “Just excited for the show.”
Lee Know’s lips curved, slow and wicked.
He didn’t say another word the entire ride.
He didn’t have to.
Han already knew: whatever game this was, it had started the second Lee Know picked up that phone.
And Han wasn’t sure he wanted it to stop.
The backstage area was controlled chaos: racks of clothing, makeup artists wielding brushes like weapons, stylists screaming in Italian about missing earrings. Stray Kids had their own corner cordoned off with black curtains, a long mirror framed in bulbs, and a clothing rail that looked like it cost more than Han’s entire life.
Han stood in front of the mirror while a stylist adjusted the thin silver chain that looped from his belt to his back pocket. He was trying very hard to breathe normally.
Lee Know appeared behind him, reflected in the glass like a shadow that had learned how to smile.
“Hold still, Sungie,” he murmured, voice low enough that only Han heard it over the noise. Two fingers slipped under the hem of Han’s cropped jacket just at the small of his back, where skin met fabric and tugged gently, straightening it. The touch lasted two seconds. Maybe three. Long enough for Han’s stomach to flip upside-down.
“T-thanks, hyung,” Han squeaked.
Lee Know didn’t step away. Instead he stayed right there, chest almost brushing Han’s shoulder blades, and reached past him to grab a bottle of setting spray from the counter. As he did, the inside of his wrist grazed the bare strip of skin above Han’s waistband deliberate, slow, warm.
Han’s reflection stared back at him with huge eyes and a mouth that wouldn’t quite close.
Lee Know met his gaze in the mirror and smiled, small and lazy. “You’re shaking,” he observed, like he was commenting on the weather. “Cold?”
“No! I’m—hot, actually. Very warm. Milan is warm.” Han spun around too fast, nearly knocking over a light stand. “I’m fine!”
Across the room, Felix raised an eyebrow but was immediately distracted by Hyunjin stealing his lip tint.
Han escaped to the garment rack under the pretense of checking his outfit again. He pressed his forehead to the cool metal pole and whispered to himself, “You’ve lost it. You have officially read so much AO3 that your brain is rewriting reality. Lee Know is not flirting with you, he’s just… being Lee Know. Touchy. Annoying. Normal.”
Except it didn’t feel normal.
Five minutes later they were lined up for final touches. The stylist dabbed highlighter on Han’s collarbones; Lee Know stood directly behind him waiting his turn.
Han felt it again: the lightest pressure at the base of his neck Lee Know’s thumb, tracing the edge of his hairline like he was checking if the strands were soft enough. Then lower, following the line of his spine through the fabric of the jacket, stopping just above the waistband.
Han’s breath hitched so loudly the stylist asked if he was okay.
“Yeah! Dust! Throat! Water!” Han croaked, and fled to the refreshment table.
He chugged half a bottle of water while hiding behind Changbin’s broad shoulders.
Changbin glanced down. “You good, Hannie? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“Several,” Han muttered.
The choreographer called them for spacing rehearsal. They filed onto the mini-stage set up backstage just a quick run-through of blocking under the actual runway lights. The real show wouldn’t start for another hour, but the venue wanted content.
They took positions. Han ended up front and center for the opening pose. Lee Know, because the universe hated him, was stationed directly behind.
The music started low, pulsing, the kind that made your heartbeat sync to it.
Lee Know stepped in close for the transition move. His hand settled on Han’s hip, fingers curling possessively. Normal choreography. They’d done this exact grip a thousand times.
But then Lee Know’s thumb swept inward, just once, brushing the sensitive skin right beneath the hem of Han’s shirt. A tiny, secret stroke.
Han’s entire body locked up. He missed the next count by half a beat.
The choreographer yelled, “Jisung-ah, focus!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Han bowed ninety degrees, mortified.
When he straightened, Lee Know was watching him with that same half-smirk, head tilted like a cat who’d found a particularly entertaining toy.
During the break, Han hid in the corner pretending to stretch. Lee Know strolled over with two cups of iced coffee, handed one to Han without a word.
Their fingers brushed.
Lee Know didn’t let go right away. He held the cup and Han’s fingers for an extra second, thumb pressing lightly against Han’s knuckles.
“Drink,” Lee Know said softly. “You look flushed.”
Han took the coffee with both hands like it was a lifeline. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Lee Know leaned in, voice barely audible over the music. “Because you keep jumping every time I touch you tonight. Did I do something wrong, Sungie?”
The way he said Sungie low, rolling, almost fond made Han’s knees threaten to give out.
“No! You—everything’s normal! Totally normal! You’re normal! I’m the abnormal one!” Han laughed too loud and speed-walked away, nearly tripping over a cable.
He spent the next ten minutes hiding behind Seungmin, repeating like a mantra:
It’s the fanfiction. It’s brainwashing. Lee Know is not trying to kill you with subtle skin contact. You are delusional. Get it together, Han Jisung.
But every time Lee Know’s eyes found him across the crowded backstage dark, steady, knowing, Han’s heartbeat stuttered like it was trying to answer a question it didn’t understand yet.
The show hadn’t even started, and Han was already unraveling, thread by thread.
The final encore ended in a storm of confetti and screams. The eight of them bowed, breathless and shining with sweat, then disappeared behind the heavy black curtain. Adrenaline still crackled under Han’s skin as they stumbled through the backstage corridors, laughing and shoving each other, high on the performance.
Lee Know slipped away first, like he always did after big stages. A quiet nod to the staff, a murmured “need five minutes,” and he vanished into one of the private lounges the venue kept for artists. No one thought twice. It was just Minho-hyung needing to “breathe.” Lee Know took the time to text Felix and ask him to send Han his way that he needed water, his bag, and his help with something.
Han was busy towelling his neck when Felix appeared, holding out Lee Know’s backpack and a cold bottle of water.
“Hyung asked if you could bring these to him? He said he needs help with something in the lounge.”
Han’s stomach did a slow, nauseating flip. Help with something. From Lee Know. After the entire night of barely-there touches and that voice.
He swallowed so hard his throat clicked. “Y-yeah, sure. No problem.”
Felix grinned, oblivious. “Thanks, babe. I owe you.”
Han took the bag and water like they were made of glass and walked the dimly lit hallway on legs that didn’t feel entirely his. The door to the lounge was cracked open, a sliver of warm light spilling out.
He knocked once, softly. Pushed it open.
Lee Know was sprawled on the low leather couch, backlit by a single lamp. Shirtless. Sweat still glistening along the sharp lines of his collarbones and the dip of his throat. One arm stretched along the backrest, the other lazily holding an iced Americano. His stage makeup was smudged just enough to look dangerous.
He didn’t speak. Just watched Han with half-lidded eyes and crooked a finger.
Han stepped inside and let the door click shut behind him.
“You wanted your—” Han’s voice cracked. He held up the bag and water like a peace offering.
Lee Know set the coffee aside. “Lock the door, Jisung-ah.”
The soft command sent a shiver racing down Han’s spine. His fingers fumbled with the deadbolt until it snicked into place.
Lee Know patted the couch cushion beside him. “Come here.”
Han went. Sat stiffly, knees pressed together, hands clutching the water bottle like it could save him.
Lee Know took the bottle, twisted the cap, and held it to Han’s lips himself. “Drink.”
Han obeyed, throat working. A drop escaped the corner of his mouth; Lee Know’s thumb chased it, swiping slow and deliberate, then brought the thumb to his own mouth and licked it clean.
Han made a small, broken sound.
Lee Know smiled, slow and sharp. “You’ve been jumpy all night, baby. Want to tell me why?”
“I—I don’t know, hyung, I think I just—”
Lee Know leaned in until their noses almost touched. “Try again. And don’t lie to me.”
Han’s breath stuttered. “Your phone,” Lee Know continued, voice velvet and cruel. “You left it open on the bed in Milan. Surprise sex. Public teasing. CNC. Sound familiar?”
Every drop of blood in Han’s body rushed south so fast he swayed.
Lee Know’s hand settled on his thigh, high enough that his pinky brushed the seam of Han’s pants. “You’ve been reading about me fucking you raw backstage while the members are ten feet away. About me slipping into your bed at 3 a.m. and taking you apart while you pretend to fight me.” His fingers squeezed. “And you never thought to tell me you liked that? I’m hurt, Sungie.”
“I-I didn’t—they were just stories, I wasn’t—”
“Shh.” Lee Know’s other hand cupped Han’s jaw, thumb pressing against his lower lip. “You’re shaking again. So pretty when you’re nervous.”
He shifted, guiding Han until he was straddling Lee Know’s lap, knees sinking into the couch on either side. Han’s hands flew to Lee Know’s bare shoulders for balance; the skin there was fever-hot.
Lee Know nosed along Han’s throat, inhaling like he was memorizing him. “Here’s the thing,” he whispered against Han’s pulse. “I’m upset you didn’t share. I had to find out from strangers how gorgeous you look when you’re pretending you don’t want to be ruined.”
His hands slid under Han’s cropped jacket, palms gliding up the sweat-damp skin of his back, thumbs tracing every knob of his spine. Han arched without meaning to, a whimper slipping free.
Lee Know hummed approval. “Good boy.”
He rolled his hips once—just enough friction through two layers of fabric to make Han’s vision spark white. Han’s head fell forward, forehead against Lee Know’s shoulder.
“Please—”
“Please what?” Lee Know asked sweetly, even as his hands slipped lower, cupping Han’s ass and pulling him down harder. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop until you’re crying?”
Han couldn’t answer; he was too busy trying not to grind down like a desperate animal.
Lee Know’s fingers found the button of Han’s slacks, popped it open with a soft click. The zipper came down tooth by tooth, agonizingly slow. Cool air hit overheated skin, then Lee Know’s hand slid inside, wrapping around Han through thin briefs.
Han sobbed into Lee Know’s neck.
“So hard already,” Lee Know praised, stroking once, twice, feather-light. “All night you’ve been like this, haven’t you? Every time I touched your back, every time I called you jagiya. Poor baby.”
He tightened his grip, perfect pressure, then loosened again before Han could chase it. Again. Again. Slow, worshipful strokes that climbed Han right to the edge and left him hanging.
“Look at me,” Lee Know ordered.
Han lifted his head. His eyes were glassy, lips bitten swollen.
Lee Know kissed him—soft, filthy, licking into his mouth like he owned it—while his hand never gave quite enough. Every time Han’s hips jerked, chasing release, Lee Know pulled back just enough to deny him.
“You don’t get to come yet,” he murmured against Han’s mouth. “Not until you admit you wanted me to find those stories. Not until you beg me to give you everything those fics promised.”
Han was trembling so hard the couch creaked. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes from frustration and need.
“Hyung—please—I can’t—”
“You can.” Lee Know bit Han’s lower lip, soothed it with his tongue. “And you will. Because you’ve been dreaming about me holding you right on the edge like this, haven’t you? Pretending you don’t want it while you fall apart.”
He twisted his wrist just right—once—and Han cried out, high and broken, hips snapping forward.
Lee Know stopped completely.
Han sobbed, actual tears now, grinding helplessly against nothing.
“Shh, shh, baby.” Lee Know kissed the tears away, voice dripping honey. “We have the after-party. Then the van. Then the hotel. So many places I can tease you exactly like your little stories. And you’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?”
He tucked Han back into his pants, zipped him up slowly, buttoned him like he was dressing a doll. Then he pressed one last gentle kiss to Han’s swollen lips.
“Fix your face,” he said, soft and lethal. “We wouldn’t want the members to know what a mess you are already.”
Han stared at him, wrecked and shaking, pupils blown wide.
Lee Know smiled, all teeth.
“After you, jagiya.”
The hallway lights felt too bright when they stepped out. Han walked half a pace behind Lee Know, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders curled forward like he could make himself smaller. His lips were swollen, his hair sticking up in odd directions from desperate fingers, and his eyes big, glassy, suspiciously red-rimmed refused to focus on anything for more than a second.
Felix spotted them immediately.
“Jisungie?” He was at Han’s side in two strides, hand gentle on his arm. “Hey, your hair—what happened? You okay?”
Han startled like a deer hearing a twig snap. “Nothing! I’m fine, I just—” His voice cracked. He forced a wobbly smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The stage was intense, you know? Got emotional. Hyung was letting me ugly-cry for a minute. I’m good now.”
Felix’s brows pinched together. He reached up, trying to smooth a stubborn strand of Han’s hair that refused to lie flat. “You sure? You look… wrecked.”
“Happy wrecked,” Han insisted, too loud. “Adrenaline crash. Happens.”
Lee Know said nothing, just leaned against the wall nearby, sipping the last of his Americano like he didn’t have a trembling, half-ruined boy standing three feet away.
Felix watched Han for another long second, then pulled him into a quick hug anyway. Han melted into it for a moment, face hidden against Felix’s shoulder.
Later, when they were gathering bags and heading to the vans, Felix tugged Chan aside.
“Hyung, I’m a little worried. Jisung came out of the lounge looking like he’d been crying. Like—really crying. Hair everywhere, eyes all glassy.”
Chan’s expression softened immediately. He glanced across the room to where Han was laughing too brightly at something Jeongin said, then back to Felix.
“I know,” Chan said quietly. “Minho already talked to me before we even left Korea. He’s been keeping an eye on Jisung—said he’s been distant again, avoiding eye contact, same little signs from 5-star era. Minho asked for the shared room specifically so he could watch him closer.”
Felix’s shoulders loosened, understanding clicking into place.
“So that’s why they disappeared together…”
“Yeah,” Chan nodded. “Minho’s handling it his way. Whatever happened in there, it was probably Jisung finally letting some of it out. Minho won’t push too hard, but he won’t let him bottle it either. Trust him.”
Felix exhaled, tension bleeding away. “Okay. Okay, good. I just… hate seeing him like that.”
“Same,” Chan said, squeezing Felix’s shoulder. “But he’s got Minho tonight. He’s in good hands.”
Across the room, Lee Know’s eyes met Chan’s for a brief second. A tiny nod passed between them—message received, situation under control.
Han laughed again at something Changbin said, the sound a little too sharp, a little too brittle.
But when Lee Know’s gaze settled on him, warm and steady and promising, Han’s next breath came a fraction easier.
He was in good hands.
He just didn’t know how good yet.
The after-party was held in a converted warehouse on the edge of the Navigli, brick walls dripping with fairy lights, bass so low it lived in your bones. Every corner was packed with models, designers, photographers, and a handful of idols who’d flown in for fashion week. Stray Kids had their own roped-off section on the mezzanine: velvet couches, bottle service, and a perfect view of the dance floor below.
Han had spent the entire van ride here with his forehead pressed to the cool window, praying the streetlights would freeze the ache in his groin. It hadn’t worked. Every bump in the road reminded him how empty and desperate he still felt.
Now, under pulsing purple lights, he was trying and failing to act like a normal human being.
“Jisung-ah, come here!” Changbin yelled over the music, waving a shot of something neon. “You’ve been weirdly quiet all night. Drink!”
Han forced a grin and crossed the few steps to the table. “I’m pacing myself, hyung. European alcohol is scary.”
“Scary?” Hyunjin laughed, draping himself over Felix’s shoulders. “You once drank an entire bottle of soju and tried to teach the manager’s dog the choreo to Case 143.”
“That dog had potential,” Han protested, accepting the shot anyway. He threw it back. The burn was welcome; it distracted him for three whole seconds.
Lee Know was lounging on the biggest couch like a bored king, one arm stretched along the backrest, legs spread just enough to look dangerous. He hadn’t said much since they arrived—just sipped his drink and watched the room with half-lidded eyes.
Watched Han.
Han felt the stare like a physical thing crawling over his skin.
Chan and Jeongin were busy taking selfies with some Italian model. Seungmin was arguing with a bartender about the existence of melon-flavored liquor. Perfect cover.
Han exhaled and tried to sit on the opposite couch.
Lee Know’s voice cut through the noise, lazy and sweet. “Jisungie. Over here.”
It wasn’t loud, but it carried. Han’s legs moved before his brain caught up. He dropped onto the cushion beside Lee Know, careful not to let their thighs touch.
Lee Know immediately shifted, thigh pressing firmly against Han’s, warm and solid. His arm slid from the backrest to rest across Han’s shoulders—casual, proprietary.
“You’re all tense,” Lee Know murmured, lips brushing the shell of Han’s ear so no one else could hear. “Relax, baby. People will notice.”
Han’s spine went rigid instead.
Felix flopped down on Han’s other side, stealing a sip of Han’s drink. “You two look cozy. Did you pre-game without us?”
“Someone has to be the responsible one,” Lee Know said smoothly, fingers idly playing with the baby hairs at Han’s nape. “Jisungie’s still recovering from the stage high.”
Han choked on air.
Changbin snorted. “Recovering? He was bouncing off the walls twenty minutes ago.”
“Was not,” Han squeaked.
“Were too,” Hyunjin chimed in, leaning over the table. “You kept hugging everyone and telling Seungmin his cheekbones could cut glass.”
Seungmin rolled his eyes. “He says that sober too.”
Lee Know’s hand drifted lower, knuckles grazing the exposed strip of skin where Han’s shirt had ridden up. Just a whisper of contact, but Han jolted so hard his knee banged the table.
Seven pairs of eyes turned to him.
“You okay, Hannie?” Chan asked, amused.
“Fine! Cramp! Leg cramp!” Han blurted, face flaming. “I’m gonna—stretch. Be right back.”
He tried to stand. Lee Know’s arm tightened, keeping him pinned.
“Sit,” Lee Know said, voice soft but absolute. “I’ll help.”
Under the table, hidden from view, Lee Know’s other hand settled high on Han’s thigh. Thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles through the fabric of his pants. Up. Pause. Down. Up again—never high enough.
Han’s breath stuttered. He gripped his own knees to keep from grabbing Lee Know’s wrist.
Across the table, Jeongin tilted his head. “Hyung, you’re sweating. You sure you’re not sick?”
“He’s just warm,” Lee Know answered for him, fingers sliding an inch higher. “Right, Sungie?”
Han managed a strangled, “Mhm!”
Felix squinted. “You’re acting like when you lied about finishing the rap part and stayed up 72 hours.”
“I finished it!” Han yelped.
Lee Know’s pinky brushed the seam of Han’s zipper—just once, feather-light—and Han’s hips jerked involuntarily.
Changbin raised an eyebrow. “Okay, someone get this kid water before he vibrates into another dimension.”
Lee Know finally took mercy, removing his hand to reach for a bottle of water instead. He twisted the cap and held it to Han’s lips himself.
“Drink,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear, innocent as anything.
Han drank. Water spilled from the corner of his mouth; Lee Know wiped it away with his thumb, then slowly, deliberately licked the droplet off his own finger while staring straight into Han’s eyes.
Han made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a dying animal.
Hyunjin blinked. “Did he just—did that water go down the wrong pipe or—”
“He’s fine,” Lee Know said cheerfully, arm tightening around Han’s shoulders again. “Just overwhelmed by how much he loves us.”
The members laughed and turned back to their conversation, distracted by a tray of new drinks arriving.
Under the table, Lee Know’s hand returned—this time resting possessively on Han’s inner thigh, thumb tracing the inseam in tiny, maddening circles.
Han dropped his forehead to the cool table edge and prayed for death.
Lee Know leaned in, lips brushing his ear again.
“You’re doing so well, jagiya,” he whispered. “Keeping quiet while everyone’s right here. Exactly like your little stories.”
Han bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.
Lee Know’s smile was slow and filthy and utterly delighted.
He was having the time of his life.
Lee Know’s lips brushed the shell of Han’s ear again, barely a breath.
“Go on,” he murmured, so low only Han could hear. “Tell them you need the bathroom. Tell them you’re too drunk and need hyung to help you walk.”
Han’s entire body was one live wire. He swallowed, nodded once tiny, frantic.
He lifted his head from the table, plastered on a sloppy grin, and slurred louder than necessary, “Uh-oh. Guys, I think Europe liquor is winning. Gotta pee. Like… emergency.”
Changbin laughed. “Already? Lightweight.”
Han stood on wobbly legs, swaying theatrically. Lee Know was up in an instant, arm sliding around his waist.
“I got him,” Lee Know said, calm and responsible. “Won’t be long.”
Seungmin frowned. “He was fine two minutes ago—”
Chan cut in smoothly, voice soft but firm. “It’s okay. Let Minho handle it. He’s been keeping an eye on Jisung tonight anyway. You know how it is.”
One by one, the members’ expressions shifted from confusion to understanding. They’d all seen the signs before; they trusted Chan’s tone.
Hyunjin waved them off. “Text if you need backup, hyung.”
Lee Know just steered Han away, hand low and possessive on his back, guiding him down the dimly lit corridor toward the restrooms.
The second they were out of sight, Han’s fake-drunk act crumbled. He was trembling so hard Lee Know had to tighten his grip to keep him upright.
“Hyung—”
“Shh.” Lee Know pushed open the men’s room door, checked it was empty, and locked it behind them with a soft click Han didn’t register over the blood roaring in his ears.
The lock clicked shut behind them a sound Han’s lust-drunk brain didn’t even register.
Lee Know didn’t waste time. He spun Han by the hips, slammed his back against the marble counter, and yanked his belt open with one sharp tug. The leather hissed free of its loops; the button popped; the zipper rasped down.
Han’s cock sprang out, flushed dark, already slick at the tip from hours of torment. He hadn’t come once since Milan, and it showed: one single bead of pre-cum trembled, then rolled down the underside.
Lee Know caught it on two fingers and brought them to Han’s mouth.
“Taste how desperate you are.”
Han licked obediently, cheeks hollowing, eyes fluttering shut.
Lee Know hummed, pleased, then wrapped his hand around Han tight, hot, perfect and gave one long, slow stroke from root to crown.
Han’s head thunked back against the mirror, a broken moan ripping out of him.
“Quiet,” Lee Know warned, voice velvet and cruel. “Soundproofing’s shit in here. Anyone in the hallway will hear what a needy little thing you are.”
He started moving: slow, deliberate drags of his fist, twisting just under the head on every upstroke, thumb pressing hard into the sensitive vein underneath. Han’s hips chased the pressure instinctively, but every time he tried to thrust, Lee Know’s other hand clamped down on his hipbone, pinning him still.
“Please—hyung—”
“No.” Lee Know leaned in, teeth grazing Han’s earlobe. “You come when I say, not when your greedy cock decides.”
He sped up fast, punishing strokes that had Han’s thighs shaking in seconds then slowed again, loosening his grip until only his fingertips ghosted over overheated skin. Up and down, feather-light, circling the head until Han sobbed, then gripping hard again and pumping once, twice, three times, stopping right as Han’s abs clenched and his balls drew up tight.
Han’s entire body jerked, a dry orgasm trapped behind Lee Know’s cruel fingers.
“Hyung—fuck—please let me—”
Lee Know did it again. And again. And again.
Five times. Six. Han lost count.
Tears streamed down his temples into his hairline. His cock was an angry red, leaking steadily now, every muscle in his legs trembling so hard the marble counter creaked under his grip.
“Look at you,” Lee Know whispered, reverent and vicious. “Crying because you need to come so bad. You’re gorgeous like this, Sungie. Absolutely fucking wrecked.”
He dropped to his knees just long enough to drag his tongue in one slow, wet stripe up the underside of Han’s cock, swirling around the head, sucking once, hard then stood again before Han could even process it.
Han screamed behind clenched teeth, hips bucking into empty air.
Lee Know laughed softly, dark and fond. “Not yet, baby.”
He wrapped his hand around himself instead, stroking lazily, letting Han watch.
Han’s mouth fell open, saliva glistening on his bottom lip.
“Want this?” Lee Know asked, thumbing over his own slit, spreading pre-cum down the shaft. “Want hyung to fuck your mouth while you’re dripping on the floor?”
Han nodded frantically, already sinking.
Lee Know caught him by the hair, guided him down until Han’s knees hit the tile with a dull thud.
“Hands behind your back.”
Han obeyed instantly, wrists crossing at the small of his back like he’d been born for this.
Lee Know fed himself into Han’s mouth inch by inch, groaning low when wet heat closed around him. He didn’t start gentle. He set a brutal pace from the first thrust (deep, punishing, hitting the back of Han’s throat until he gagged, tears spilling faster).
Every time Han’s throat fluttered around him, Lee Know pulled out just long enough to let him breathe, then slammed back in.
“Anyone could walk in right now,” he growled, hips snapping forward. “Door’s not locked, baby. What if staff came looking? What if the members heard you choking on my cock like a desperate whore?”
Han moaned around him, the vibration ripping a hiss from Lee Know’s teeth.
“Fuck—exactly like that. Take it deeper. Show me how bad you wanted those filthy fics to be real.”
Lee Know’s rhythm stuttered, thighs tensing. He buried himself to the root, held Han there nose pressed to his pelvis, throat spasming and came with a guttural groan, pulsing thick and hot straight down Han’s throat.
Han swallowed frantically, again and again, throat working around Lee Know’s cock until there was nothing left. Not a single drop escaped.
Lee Know pulled out slowly, thumbing the corner of Han’s swollen lips, smearing the mess before pushing it back inside.
“Good boy,” he rasped, voice raw. “Swallowed every bit like you were starving for it.”
Han knelt there, shaking, cock still painfully hard, tears drying on his cheeks.
Lee Know tucked himself away, zipped up, then hauled Han to his feet and fixed his clothes with quick, efficient movements buttoning, zipping, smoothing Han’s shirt like he hadn’t just ruined him on a bathroom floor.
He cupped Han’s wrecked face, kissed him slow and deep, licking the taste of himself from Han’s tongue.
“Still not coming,” he whispered against swollen lips. “Not until tonight. Not until I’ve got you spread out on that hotel bed and I’ve fucked you so stupid you forget every single one of those fics ever existed.”
Han whimpered, broken and perfect.
Lee Know wiped his face clean, fixed his hair, and unlocked the door.
Back to the party they went Han leaning heavily on Lee Know’s arm, eyes glassy, legs barely working.
No one ever noticed the lock had been thrown the entire time.
The music had shifted to something slower, heavier, the kind that made everyone lean a little closer. Most of the fashion crowd had thinned out; only a few stragglers remained on the dance floor. Their little mezzanine felt almost too quiet now, the purple lights harsher on tired faces.
Han collapsed onto the velvet couch the second Lee Know let go of his waist, curling into the corner like he could disappear into the cushions. His knees came up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, chin tucked down. He was still trembling, tiny aftershocks running through his shoulders every few seconds.
Felix was already there, crouched in front of him, voice soft. “Jisungie, look at me for a second. Hey.”
Han lifted his head slowly. His eyes were glassy, pupils huge, irises almost swallowed by black. Tears had dried on his cheeks, leaving faint tracks through the leftover highlighter.
“I’m okay, Lixie,” he whispered, voice hoarse and cracked. “Promise.”
“You don’t look okay,” Felix said, gentle but firm. He reached out, fingertips brushing Han’s knee.
Han flinched hard, a full-body jerk that made him curl tighter.
Felix froze, hand hovering in mid-air.
Hyunjin, coming back from the bar with a bottle of water, saw the whole thing. He stopped dead. “Hannie…?”
He moved behind the couch to ruffle Han’s hair like he always did, light and affectionate.
His palm barely grazed Han’s nape.
Han jolted like he’d been electrocuted, a sharp, wounded sound ripping out of him before he could stop it. His whole body folded forward, forehead pressing to his knees, arms flying up to shield his head.
The water bottle in Hyunjin’s hand hit the floor with a dull thud.
Silence.
Changbin stood halfway out of his seat. Jeongin’s mouth actually fell open. Seungmin’s usual smirk was gone.
Felix’s eyes filled. “Jisung-ah…”
Chan was moving before anyone else, crossing the mezzanine in four long strides. He dropped to a crouch in front of Han, voice low and steady.
“Hey, baby. It’s just us. You’re safe. Can you look at me?”
Han shook his head, face still hidden. His breathing was coming too fast, shallow little gasps.
Lee Know slid in behind him on the couch, calm and unhurried. He didn’t touch Han yet, just let his presence settle at Han’s back like a blanket.
“Give him a second,” Lee Know said quietly. “He’s with me.”
Chan’s gaze flicked up, sharp. He took in Lee Know’s steady expression, the way Han instinctively leaned a fraction toward him even while curled up tight.
Felix’s voice cracked. “Hyung, he’s shaking so bad. This isn’t—this isn’t normal crying. He looks… gone.”
“I know what he looks like,” Lee Know answered, soft but firm. “I’ve got him.”
Hyunjin’s hands hovered uselessly. “I barely touched him—”
“It’s not you,” Lee Know cut in. “It’s everything. The show, the travel, the crowd. He’s overloaded. I’m taking care of it.”
Seungmin finally spoke, voice unusually gentle. “He jumped like we hurt him.”
Lee Know reached out then, slow enough that Han could track it, and rested one hand between Han’s shoulder blades, light pressure, grounding.
Han exhaled shakily and uncurled just enough to turn his face toward Lee Know’s thigh, pressing his cheek there like it was the only safe place left in the world.
Chan watched the way Han melted at the contact, the way his breathing started to even out, and something in his expression shifted, worry warring with reluctant understanding.
Still, he stood, caught Lee Know’s eye, and tilted his head toward the exit.
“Minho. A word. Now.”
The two of them stepped away from the group, down the metal stairs to the quieter hallway near the coat check. The bass still thumped overhead, but voices no longer carried.
Chan didn’t waste time.
“Talk to me,” he said, arms crossed, voice low and tight. “I’ve trusted you with him for years. You’ve never once given me a reason not to. But I just watched him flinch from Hyunjin like he was being hit. His eyes—he’s not here, Minho-yah. So tell me what the hell is happening, because I’m two seconds from pulling him out of that hotel room myself.”
Lee Know met Chan’s stare without blinking.
“I know exactly where he is,” he said, calm and certain. “And he’s exactly where he wants to be. I’m not hurting him. I’m not breaking him. Everything that’s happened tonight, everything that’s going to happen when we get back, he asked for it. Not out loud. Not yet. But he asked.”
Chan’s jaw worked. “He’s non-verbal right now.”
“He’s not non-verbal,” Lee Know corrected gently. “He’s floating. And he’s safe. I’ve got him on a leash shorter than you can imagine, hyung. One wrong breath and I stop. You know I’d burn the world down before I let him actually drop.”
Chan searched his face for a long, long moment.
“If he safewords—”
“I’ll have you in the room before the word’s fully out of his mouth,” Lee Know said instantly. “I swear on my life.”
Another beat of silence.
Chan exhaled through his nose, tension bleeding out of his shoulders by slow degrees.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. I trust you.”
He reached out, gripped Lee Know’s nape, and pulled him into a quick, fierce hug.
“Don’t make me regret it,” he muttered against Lee Know’s shoulder.
“I won’t,” Lee Know promised.
When they walked back up the stairs, Han was still curled against the couch, but his eyes were fixed on the spot where Lee Know had disappeared. The second Lee Know appeared, Han reached out blindly, fingers shaking.
Lee Know took his hand, pulled him gently to his feet, and tucked him under his arm.
“Time to go home,” he murmured into Han’s hair.
Han nodded against his chest, small and trusting and utterly wrecked.
The rest of the members watched in silence as Lee Know guided him down the stairs and out into the Milan night.
No one said another word.
They didn’t need to.
Whatever was happening between them, it was theirs now.
The van was quiet on the ride back, city lights streaking across tired faces. Han sat pressed to Lee Know’s side, hoodie pulled up, forehead against the cool window. Every bump in the road made him shift minutely, thighs clenched so tight his muscles ached.
Lee Know leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Han’s ear beneath the hood.
“When we get to the room,” he whispered, voice low and filthy, “you’re allowed to come. As many times as your body can give me. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name, jagiya.”
Han’s breath hitched so sharply Changbin glanced over, but Lee Know just smoothed a casual hand down Han’s spine like he was soothing him to sleep.
The second the van rolled to a stop in the hotel courtyard, Han was moving.
He didn’t wait for the doors to fully open. Didn’t say goodnight. Didn’t even look at anyone. He just bolted hoodie flapping, sneakers slapping marble as he sprinted through the lobby, past the night staff, straight to the elevators.
Felix half-rose. “Jisung—”
Lee Know was already standing, calm as ever, grabbing both their keycards.
“It’s fine,” he said, voice steady. “He just needs me. Go to bed, I’ve got him.”
Chan met his eyes searching, worried, but trusting. Lee Know gave the tiniest nod.
Then he was gone, walking unhurried after the boy who’d just fled like the hounds of hell were on his heels.
The suite door slammed open before Lee Know even reached it.
Han was already inside, pacing in frantic circles, hoodie half-zipped, chest heaving. The second Lee Know stepped in and locked the door behind him, Han dropped to his knees in the middle of the room.
“Please,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Hyung, please, I can’t; I need—”
“Show me,” Lee Know said, soft but commanding. “Show me exactly how much you need it.”
Han’s hands shook as he tore the hoodie off, shirt following, then shoved his pants and briefs down in one clumsy motion. He kicked them aside and stood naked, flushed, cock so hard it curved up against his stomach, wet and dripping.
He wrapped his own hand around himself, once, desperate, then forced himself to stop, looking up with pleading eyes.
“I can’t even touch myself without wanting to come,” he whispered. “I’m so close it hurts. Please, hyung, I need you inside me, need you to fill me up, need—”
Lee Know crossed the room in three strides, cupped Han’s face, and kissed him filthy and deep.
“Bed. On your back. Legs open.”
Han scrambled to obey, crawling onto the king-size bed, spreading himself wide, knees bent, feet planted, hole already twitching like it knew what was coming.
Lee Know stripped slowly, letting Han watch every inch revealed. When he finally crawled over him, Han was openly crying with need.
The first thrust was brutal no prep beyond the slick Lee Know had worked into him in the bathroom earlier, just raw, burning stretch as Lee Know buried himself to the hilt in one stroke.
Han screamed, back arching off the bed, hands clawing at Lee Know’s shoulders.
Lee Know didn’t pause. He set a punishing rhythm deep, hard, relentless, hips snapping forward, the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust.
Han came on the tenth stroke, untouched, whole body seizing as he shot thick ropes across his own stomach and chest, vision whiting out.
Lee Know didn’t stop.
He fucked Han through it, growling praises against his throat
"good boy"
"You're so fucking pretty when you cum on my cock"
"Give me another"
The second orgasm hit Han like a freight train, dragged out of him by the drag of Lee Know’s cock over his prostate again and again. He sobbed, oversensitive, but his legs only wrapped tighter around Lee Know’s waist.
Lee Know pulled out just long enough to flip him over, yanking his hips up, and slammed back in.
Han’s face pressed into the pillows, mouth open on silent screams as Lee Know pounded into him from behind, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise.
Third orgasm, this one was dry, just spasms and tears, Han's body shaking apart.
Lee Know finally let himself go, burying deep and coming with a guttural groan, flooding Han so full it leaked out around his cock on the next thrust.
He didn’t pull out.
Just rolled them onto their sides, Han’s back to his chest, cock still buried inside, and reached around to stroke Han slow and lazy.
Han whimpered, oversensitive and floating.
“Again,” Lee Know whispered against his nape, already moving slow, deep rolls of his hips, grinding into that spot that made Han see stars.
By the fifth orgasm, Han was barely coherent voice gone, body limp, come and lube and Lee Know’s release dripping steadily down his thighs.
Lee Know finally came a second time, adding another load deep inside, then a third slower, gentler, rocking Han through it until they were both spent.
He stayed inside as they caught their breath, arms wrapped tight around Han’s trembling body, kissing the tears from his temples.
Han turned his face into Lee Know’s neck, voice small and wrecked.
“Thank you, hyung.”
Lee Know pressed a kiss to his sweaty hair.
“Anytime, jagiya. Anytime.”
Felix and Hyunjin stood in the hallway clutching two convenience-store bags full of peach gummies, Pocari Sweat, and random crisps. The corridor was dead quiet except for the low hum of the air-con.
Felix bounced on the balls of his feet. “I just wanna see he’s breathing, okay? Five seconds. We’ll leave the snacks and go.”
Hyunjin nodded, already raising his fist to knock.
Then it hit them.
A sharp, desperate cry from behind the door high, wrecked, unmistakable.
“Hyung—fuck—please—”
Another voice, low and rough: “Take it, baby, one more, you can—”
Felix’s hand froze mid-air.
A rhythmic thudding started against the wall steady, relentless, punctuated by broken sobs and breathless moans.
Hyunjin’s eyes went comically wide.
Felix’s mouth fell open.
Another scream this one pitched so high it cracked in the middle.
Hyunjin slapped a hand over Felix’s mouth before he could make a sound and yanked him backward, both of them stumbling three doors down in complete silence.
As soon as they were clear, Hyunjin let go.
Felix wheezed. “That was—”
“Yep.”
“That was not—”
“Nope.”
They stared at each other for one full second, then bolted.
They didn’t stop until they were pounding on Chan and Jeongin’s door like the building was on fire.
Chan opened it in sweatpants, hair a mess, clearly half-asleep. “What the hell—”
“HAN IS NOT DEPRESSED!” Felix and Hyunjin screamed in perfect unison.
Jeongin appeared behind Chan holding a Switch, blinking. “Uh. Okay? We… knew that?”
“No, no, no,” Hyunjin panted, shoving past them into the room. “You don’t understand. We went to check on him. With snacks. And we heard—”
Felix was bright red. “They’re having sex. Like. A lot of sex. Like, Olympic-level, wall-breaking, screaming—”
“—begging, crying, ‘hyung please harder’ kind of sex,” Hyunjin finished, flailing.
Jeongin made a strangled noise and dropped his Switch.
Chan just stared.
Felix kept going, voice climbing. “Those glassy eyes? That was not mental health! That was post-nut haze! He literally ran to their room to get railed into next week!”
Hyunjin nodded frantically. “There was a headboard. It was rhythmic. It was aggressive. I think I heard Lee Know call him a good boy like seven times.”
Jeongin covered his face. “I’m begging you to stop describing it.”
Chan’s expression cycled rapidly: confusion → realization → mild horror → something dangerously close to betrayal.
“He told me…” Chan said slowly, “he told me Han was showing 5-star signs. That he was distant, fragile, needed special care. He asked for the shared room. He made me swear to trust him.”
Felix and Hyunjin exchanged a look.
Hyunjin raised both hands. “In Minho-hyung’s defense… Han did look fragile. Like, emotionally and physically destroyed. Just… not in the way we thought.”
Jeongin whimpered. “Can we never speak of this again?”
Chan pinched the bridge of his nose. “He used mental-health concern as a cover to fuck Han senseless for four days straight.”
Silence.
Then Felix, very seriously: “To be fair, Han sounded extremely happy about it.”
Hyunjin nodded solemnly. “Like, top-ten-life-moments happy.”
Chan exhaled through his teeth, half-laugh, half-groan. “That little shit.”
Jeongin raised a hand. “So… do we confront them? Or pretend we’re deaf until we die?”
Chan stared at the wall like he could see straight through it to the room three doors down, where the faint, rhythmic thumping had started up again.
He sighed, long and suffering.
“Lee Know never asks for anything,” he muttered. “Ever. And Han’s clearly… fine.”
Felix patted his shoulder. “More than fine.”
Chan pointed a finger at all three of them. “We are never mentioning this. Not tomorrow. Not at breakfast. Not when we’re eighty. This night never happened.”
Hyunjin saluted. “Understood, leader-nim.”
Jeongin was already crawling back into bed, pulling the blanket over his head. “I need bleach for my ears.”
Chan rubbed his temples, muttering under his breath, “I’m adding soundproofing to the next dorm budget. And possibly therapy.”
From down the hall came one last, broken cry high and sweet and utterly ruined.
Chan closed the door very, very gently.
The room smelled like sex and sweat and the faint lavender of hotel sheets. The headboard had finally stopped its war against the wall. Han was sprawled on his stomach, limbs liquid, face half-buried in a pillow that still had Lee Know’s handprint on it. Lee Know lay beside him, one arm draped possessively over Han’s waist, thumb tracing lazy circles on the small of his back.
Then the thumb stopped.
Han felt the shift immediately: the air got heavier, Lee Know’s breathing changed.
“…Jisungie,” Lee Know said, voice suddenly careful. Awkward. “We should… talk.”
Han’s heart dropped straight through the mattress.
He rolled over slowly, clutching the sheet to his chest like armor. “Talk?” His voice cracked on the single word. “About what?”
Lee Know sat up, dragging a hand through his hair. He looked painfully uncomfortable shoulders stiff, eyes everywhere but Han’s face.
“You know I’m shit at this,” he muttered. “Conversations. Feelings. Whatever. But we have to.”
Han’s stomach twisted so hard he felt nauseous. This was it. The “that was fun but let’s never speak of it again” speech. Or worse: “please don’t make it weird in front of the members.” His hands started shaking.
Lee Know noticed instantly.
“Hey, hey, hey—” He reached out, cupped Han’s face with both hands. “Breathe, baby. I’m not ending anything. I swear.”
Han’s eyes were already glassy again, but for an entirely different reason. “Then what?”
Lee Know exhaled like the words physically hurt. “Those fics. All of them. Was it… just the sex stuff? The kink? Or was there—” He swallowed. “Was there anything else?”
Han stared at him, brain short-circuiting.
Anything else? What did that even mean? If he said “just sex” and Lee Know wanted more, he’d look pathetic. If he admitted the truth that every single fic was a love letter he was too scared to send and Lee Know only wanted a fuckbuddy, he’d die. Actually die.
His silence stretched too long.
Lee Know’s face fell. He started pulling back. “It’s okay if it was just physical. I can do just that. I can bury the rest, I’m good at—”
“Feelings?” Han blurted, voice small.
Lee Know froze.
Han’s hands were trembling so badly the sheet slipped. “You said feelings.”
Lee Know’s eyes flicked up worried, vulnerable, stripped bare. He nodded once.
The room spun.
Han surged forward, crashing their mouths together. Not filthy this time soft, desperate, pouring four years of pining into one kiss. Lee Know made a broken sound and kissed back like he was drowning.
When they pulled apart, foreheads still touching, Lee Know’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Go out with me.”
Han laughed, wet and shaky and disbelieving. “That’s not even a question.”
“It is,” Lee Know insisted, thumbs stroking Han’s cheeks. “Be my boyfriend, Jisung-ah. For real. Not just because I fucked you stupid, but because I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know how to say.”
Han’s answer was another kiss deeper, slower, tasting like salt and relief and forever.
When they finally broke apart, Han was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.
“Yes, hyung,” he whispered against Lee Know’s lips. “A thousand times yes.”
Lee Know exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years, buried his face in Han’s neck, and laughed soft, stunned, happy.
Outside in the hallway, the faint sound of Felix and Hyunjin’s earlier chaos had long since faded.
Inside the room, two idiots finally stopped being idiots.
And the Milan sunrise crept through the curtains, painting them both gold.
The hotel restaurant was bright, painfully so. White tablecloths, clinking cutlery, the smell of espresso and warm croissants. All eight of them sat around a big circular table like nothing in the world had changed.
Chan had been silent since they sat down, arms crossed, jaw working like he was chewing on words he hadn’t decided to spit out yet.
Han was on his third pain au chocolat and glowing. Actually glowing. Lee Know kept one hand on Han’s thigh under the table, thumb rubbing slow circles, feeding him bites of fruit with the other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Felix and Hyunjin were vibrating, exchanging frantic looks every five seconds.
Jeongin had headphones around his neck and the expression of a man who had seen the void.
Seungmin and Changbin were still blissfully unaware, arguing over who got the last strip of bacon.
Chan finally put his coffee down with a deliberate clink.
“Minho-yah,” he started, voice calm but dangerous, “can we talk about last night?”
Seungmin’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. “Last night?”
Changbin looked up. “What happened last night?”
Chan ignored them. “Specifically, the part where you used Han’s mental health as a cover story so you could rail him into another dimension for four days straight.”
Silence crashed over the table like a cartoon anvil.
Seungmin inhaled a piece of croissant and started choking.
Changbin’s eyes bulged. “EXCUSE ME?”
Jeongin slammed both hands on the table. “HYUNG. WE LITERALLY HAD A PACT. NOT EVEN WHEN WE’RE EIGHTY.”
“I tried!” Chan snapped. “I really did! But I have been sitting here listening to the headboard symphony in my head since 4 a.m. and I needed this out!”
Felix made a high-pitched kettle noise.
Han, mouth full of strawberry, turned to Lee Know with the biggest, sunniest grin known to mankind.
“Want to?” he asked, voice sugary sweet.
Lee Know didn’t even hesitate.
He cupped Han’s face with both hands and kissed him slow, deep, deliberate, right there in front of the entire breakfast buffet. Tongue and all. Zero shame. The kind of kiss that should come with a parental advisory warning.
When they pulled apart, Han’s lips were swollen and he was giggling like an idiot.
Lee Know turned back to the table, wiped his thumb across Han’s bottom lip, and shrugged.
“We’re dating now,” he announced, casual as hell. “Officially. As of approximately six hours ago. Thought you should know.”
Another beat of dead silence.
Then:
Seungmin wheezed, “I need new friends.”
Changbin started laughing so hard he had to put his head on the table.
Jeongin pulled his hoodie up over his face and moaned, “I knew too much already and now I know MORE.”
Felix squealed, actually squealed, and launched himself across the table to hug them both. “MY BABIES!”
Hyunjin was filming on his phone with the biggest shit-eating grin. “This is going straight into the group chat under the title ‘Minho-hyung lied about depression to get laid: the movie’.”
Chan just stared at the ceiling like he was praying for immediate death.
Han, still in Lee Know’s arms, waved cheerfully. “Morning, everyone! I’m very happy and very not depressed and also very well-fucked, thank you for asking!”
Lee Know kissed the top of his head, smug cat smile in full force.
Chan finally dropped his face into his hands and started laughing helpless, resigned, fond.
“Fine,” he said, voice muffled. “Fine. You win. Just—soundproofing. I’m begging.”
Han saluted with a croissant. “We’ll try really hard to be quiet!”
Lee Know raised an eyebrow. “No we won’t.”
Han giggled and stole another kiss.
And that was the story of how Stray Kids’ 2025 Europe trip officially became the trip where Minsung happened in 4K, surround sound, and with an entire breakfast audience.
The end.