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Movie forgotten behind him, Hongjoong scoops Wooyoung up under his thighs and totters across the apartment. It’s probably a good thing Jongho isn’t home to listen to Wooyoung pleading desperately to get railed. Poor Jongho doesn’t deserve to be subjected to that.
“Hyung, if you don’t get your cock in me, I will scream until the neighbors come to find out who you’re murdering, I swear to god. They will arrest you for killing me if you don’t dick me down. ‘Captain of ATEEZ imprisoned for murder of fellow member, specifically the hottest one.’ I can see the headlines now, Hongjoong—”
Running out of strength in his arms, Hongjoong pins Wooyoung against the wall, using it to bear his weight. Conveniently, it also means that Hongjoong can kiss him, hot and needy, the slow slide of their mouths together, Wooyoung opening up under him, sucking on his tongue. Hongjoong grinds their hips together, a reminder of what’s to come, both of them already desperately hard.
When Hongjoong pulls back, Wooyoung’s gaze is heavy lidded, his lips a little redder, a little kiss swollen around the edges. He looks good. Then Wooyoung opens his mouth and says, “My hole is still empty, you fucking asshole.”
“You are so goddamn annoying.”
“Fuck me or fuck off,” Wooyoung says, rolling their hips together.
“Fine!” Hongjoong snaps. They stumble the last few meters to Wooyoung’s bedroom where Hongjoong dumps him unceremoniously on the bed.
Wooyoung looks up at him, mouth falling open, hair haloed around his head. It’s getting a little long again. He’s flushed with arousal, pink crawling down his chest, and his legs have fallen open on the bed, his cock tenting the slick fabric of his gym shorts. He reaches up and tugs on Hongjoong’s arm. “C’mere.”
Clambering on top of him, Hongjoong cages Wooyoung in. Wooyoung is bigger than him, but most men are and Hongjoong is very good at making himself seem more imposing. He brushes the hair off Wooyoung’s forehead and sweeps his thumb down his cheek. Wooyoung reaches out with his tongue and flicks it across Hongjoong’s thumb. Mesmerized, Hongjoong holds it there, lets Wooyoung shift to suck it into his mouth, to lick at it, his tongue hot and clever around Hongjoong. Wooyoung scrapes his teeth down the length of Hongjoong’s thumb, and Hongjoong moans. Leans down to kiss Wooyoung around it.
Wooyoung grabs at his ass, pulling their hips flush and grinding up against him. “Stop wasting time and get in me,” he says, words muffled by the finger in his mouth.
“Have you ever heard of foreplay?”
“Nope! Sounds gay as hell, though.”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes, pointedly sliding his hand up one leg of Wooyoung’s shorts. He expects to find the cotton of Wooyoung’s usual boxer briefs, but instead there’s just hot skin. He wraps his hand around Wooyoung’s length and strokes him, angle awkward on his wrist. He feels good in Hongjoong’s hand, though. Solid. “You’re not wearing underwear,” Hongjoong says, accusatory.
“Yeah, because I was hoping you’d fuck me on the couch.” A sharp little intake of breath and Wooyoung’s eyes slide shut. His hips push up into Hongjoong’s hand.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“I hid lube in the couch cushions for this,” he says, voice going soft and breathy.
“Fuck,” Hongjoong says, eloquent. “You planned ahead?”
Wooyoung smirks. “What, you think I just happened to plan movie night for when San and Seonghwa would be out on one of their little dates?”
And, yeah, Hongjoong should have known better. “You conniving little shit,” he whispers before shoving their mouths together. He bites at Wooyoung’s lower lip, and Wooyoung whines into his mouth, hips bucking up. Hongjoong jacks him slowly, slipping his tongue into his mouth, teasing. Wooyoung lets him, patient for once, the kiss spinning out lazily between them.
Hongjoong strokes Wooyoung one last time and shifts his hand downward, giving his balls a quick squeeze before sliding farther down to find his hole. Runs his fingers over the tight furl of it, feeling Wooyoung clench, so responsive under him. Hongjoong keeps touching him, small petting circles, until Wooyoung is hitching his hips up and whimpering. He pulls a knee up to give Hongjoong better access, and Hongjoong slips the tip of his finger into Wooyoung, desperately tight around him.
“What are you doing?”
Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. “What does it feel like?”
“Well, it feels like you are shoving your fingers into me dry, but I don’t think you’re actually stupid enough to do that.”
“It’s one finger and, like, barely in there,” Hongjoong argues back.
“So use lube! What’s wrong with you?”
Hongjoong resists the urge to snap at him that maybe he should show him what it feels like to have fingers shoved into him dry. Thinks of Seonghwa lying back and taking it, whimpering his name, trying to squirm away, as Hongjoong had twisted two fingers inside him, dry and horrible. The tears slipping down Seonghwa’s cheeks as he’d come untouched on his own belly, gasping. Instead of arguing, Hongjoong pulls his finger out and goes to grab the lube from its usual place of pride on Wooyoung’s nightstand.
It’s not there.
“Wooyoungie, where the fuck is your lube?”
“I told you: it’s in the couch cushions,” Wooyoung says, annoyed, as he shimmies out of his shorts and yanks his tank top off. When he flops back down, his dick slaps against his belly, leaving a slick spot behind that Hongjoong aches to lick away.
“In the couch cushions.”
“Where you were supposed to fuck me,” Wooyoung adds helpfully.
Heaving the world’s deepest sigh, Hongjoong stalks out into the living room. He fishes through the couch until he finds the bottle, leaking sluggishly onto the upholstery. Ugh. He’ll deal with that later. Lube in hand, he returns to the bedroom where Wooyoung is propped up on the pillows, idly stroking himself.
“Hey,” Wooyoung says. Smiles up at him. Lets his knees fall open pointedly, exposing his hole.
Hongjoong glares at him. Sets the lube down on the bedside table, where it belongs, and strips before pumping some into his hand and slicking himself up. “Spread.”
Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. “Oh, now you’re just gonna shove your entire dick in there? What happened to Mr. Foreplay?”
“You told me you hated foreplay!”
“Yeah, I said I didn’t need foreplay, not that I have a magical ass,” Wooyoung grumbles. “I’m asking for, like, one finger there, and no, the last one did not count, Hongjoong.”
Pointedly, Hongjoong squirts more lube into his palm and then drenches a single finger in it. He climbs on top of Wooyoung and boops him on the nose with it, leaving a smear of lube behind. Wooyoung squawks and squats his hand away and they grapple in the bed, Wooyoung tumbling him onto his back and pinning his lubed up hand above his head.
“You are an animal,” Wooyoung says. His cock is pressed against Hongjoong’s stomach, still hard, still leaking, so it’s hard to take him too seriously.
“Sorry,” Hongjoong says, insincere.
“Fuck you, I’ll do it myself.”
Hongjoong half expects Wooyoung to just sit on his dick, but true to form, he fumbles for the lube, manages to get a polite half-pump, and then reaches back. Wooyoung makes a little noise when he slides into himself, followed by soft groans as his wrist moves. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, totally absorbed by it. After half a minute, Hongjoong’s dick is straining desperately between them. He wants to move. He wants to be inside. Wants to hear Wooyoung make noises because of him. “Oh, fuck, please,” he says, unthinking.
Wooyoung goes still. Raises an eyebrow.
Hongjoong is silent for a moment before swallowing his pride. “Please let me fuck you.”
Wooyoung smiles at him, catlike, and pulls his hand away. Rolls off Hongjoong and onto his back. “Go for it, captain.”
Hongjoong sighs. He should know better by now than to think Wooyoung might want to ride him. He crawls between Wooyoung’s knees and slides two fingers in as if checking his work. He’s hot and slick inside, tight and clinging around Hongjoong’s fingers as he scissors them a little.
Groaning, Wooyoung arches his back and bears down on his fingers. “Warn a girl next time.”
“Oh, like you didn’t have your fingers in there a minute ago.”
“One,” Wooyoung says. “One finger.”
Hongjoong stares at him. “Seonghwa threatens to kick me out of bed if I don’t start with two.”
“We can’t all be whores like your beautiful wife—oh fuck.” Wooyoung’s voice goes high as Hongjoong finds his prostate. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Hongjoong.”
“What was that about my beautiful wife?” Hongjoong pulls his fingers out and lines himself up, brushing the head over Wooyoung’s sensitive hole.
“Very beautiful. Very wise. Total slut.”
“Takes one to know one,” Hongjoong says, sliding home.
Wooyoung makes an obscene noise as Hongjoong buries himself in his ass. He grabs at Hongjoong’s shoulders, nails digging into him. “Well, the kind of slut who fucks your wife.”
Hongjoong snaps his hips and knocks a moan out of Wooyoung. “I don’t believe for a second you fucked my wife.”
“Oh, you think your wife topped?”
Hongjoong snorts. “I don't think you topped.” He fucks into Wooyoung as punctuation, Wooyoung’s low pleased moan a satisfying answer. Hongjoong sets a quick and ruinous pace, balls slapping loudly against Wooyoung’s ass. Wooyoung is always magnificently responsive, his pleasure written across his face, even as he begs for more.
Wooyoung starts to jack himself almost immediately, hole clenching tight around Hongjoong. “Fuck,” he says, “keep going. Don’t stop, oh god, hyung, fuck, don’t stop.” Head thrown back, the cords of his neck exposed. Hongjoong mouths at them, hot wet kisses down his throat, until Wooyoung growls and grabs at his ass with both hands, manhandling Hongjoong. “Deeper.”
There’s something horribly hot about it, Wooyoung putting Hongjoong exactly where he wants him, trying to adjust the angle so Hongjoong can fuck him just right. Hongjoong stops fucking long enough to sling Wooyoung’s legs over his shoulders, folding him in half.
Wooyoung clenches tight around Hongjoong. Shivers. Looks up at him with tender rabbit eyes. Hongjoong kisses his ankle before he starts to move again, quick unrelenting thrusts. The last coherent thing Wooyoung says is, “Oh, fuck,” and then he’s sobbing, begging Hongjoong to let him come, please, hyung, please, and then all high whimpering noises when Hongjoong finally gets the angle right to nail his prostate each time until Wooyoung comes with a strangled yell, striping his belly, going impossibly tight around Hongjoong’s cock.
Out of habit, Hongjoong breathes carefully through it, working hard not to come, even though Wooyoung is practically dragging it out of him. When he’s finished, gone sweet and pliant under Hongjoong, Hongjoong starts to move again, languid rolls of his hips, pushing him toward overstimulation.
Wooyoung smacks him on the arm. “Stop!”
Hongjoong stops, confused.
“Dude, I came. We’re done here. Pull out.”
“Uh.”
“You can come on my ass or whatever, but no facials. I’m not washing your come out of my eyelashes again.”
Hongjoong flushes, obscurely embarrassed. He pulls out, erection wilting a little at the cool air and the tepid shame. They untangle themselves, Wooyoung letting his legs fall to the mattress. Awkwardly, Hongjoong starts to stroke himself. Tries not to make eye contact with Wooyoung, visibly impatient. When he’s still going after a solid minute and a half, Hongjoong shuts his eyes and pulls up his usual mental spank bank material. Seonghwa on his knees, mouth open with his tongue extended, waiting for Hongjoong’s come. Seonghwa pressed against the tiled wall of a fancy restaurant bathroom, trying to be quiet as he let Hongjoong finger him practically in public. Seonghwa’s slack mouth and desperate noises as Hongjoong buried his hand in him up the wrist. Seonghwa whispering husband into his ear in between panting breaths as Hongjoong fucked him slow and even.
Hongjoong comes with a groan across Wooyoung’s stomach and tries not to feel guilty that he did it thinking about someone else. He wipes his hand on his thigh and goes to flop down companionably on top of Wooyoung.
“Uh, no, do not smear that all over me.”
Grumbling, Hongjoong shuffles himself over and curls up against Wooyoung’s side. Kisses his cheek. “Next time, I’ll just come first.”
“Asshole,” Wooyoung says fondly. They lie there in companionable silence for a while. Hongjoong is idly thinking about trying for a second round—they’ve never done it twice before, but there’s a first time for everything—when Wooyoung says, half laughing, “How are you so bad at sex?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, it’s not like you don’t have practice. I hear you and Seonghwa often enough. Does he just, like, never tell you to behave yourself? Lies back and thinks of the fatherland?”
“Seonghwa thinks I’m good in bed!”
“He would tell you that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Hongjoong snarls.
“He doesn’t ever say no to you! I don’t think he knows how. You could ask to step on him and he’d say yes, Joongie, anything for you.”
Hongjoong can feel himself flushing because, okay, they did try that one time and neither of them was as into the reality of Hongjoong trying to wear Seonghwa’s heels as the idea of it, although the toe-sucking portion of the evening had been surprisingly successful.
Wooyoung must see something in the look on his face because he says, “Don’t tell me about whatever fucked up foot thing you two did. I don’t want to know. You two are disgusting.”
“He can say no to me,” Hongjoong protests. “He does say no to me.” Sure, every example Hongjoong is coming up with has to do with music or the other members, but surely Seonghwa has said no to him about a sex thing before. Probably.
“Uhuh, sure.”
“If he doesn’t say no, it’s because he’s enjoying himself. I know what he likes!”
“You keep telling yourself that.” Wooyoung pats his arm soothingly.
Rolling away, Hongjoong goes fishing through the pile of clothes by the bed, trying to find his pants.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m gonna call Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says, brandishing his phone, newly extracted from the pocket of his sweatpants.
“What?!”
“I am going to call Seonghwa,” Hongjoong repeats before viciously stabbing the call button on the screen.
“Oh, yeah, because this time he won’t lie to your face. ‘No, Joongie, actually now that you ask, I think we have bad sex.’ Yeah, sounds just like him.”
“That’s not even a good impress—”
“Hongjoongie? Is everything okay?” Seonghwa’s voice is soft and low, a little concerned.
“Hey, baby. Yeah, it’s fine.” Hongjoong puts the call on speaker. “You’re with San, right?”
A beat of silence. Then, Seonghwa’s voice tinny in the phone speaker: “We’re out for dinner. I told you. Aren’t you and Wooyoung watching a movie or something?”
“You have a private dining room, yeah?”
“Of course…?”
“Great, put me on speaker.”
Wooyoung stares at him in horror. Smacks his arm. Mouths, “No!” Hongjoong glares back at him.
“Okay, you’re on speaker. Say hello, Sanie.”
“Hi, hyung!” San sounds just as confused as Seonghwa.
“Hey, so I’m here with Wooyoung—” Wooyoung pinches Hongjoong hard. So much for the afterglow. “—and we had a question for you.”
“Hi, Wooyoungie!” San says, suddenly much more relaxed.
“Hi,” Wooyoung says weakly. “Okay, it’s really no big deal. We don’t need to interrupt your dinner—”
“No, no, this is important,” Hongjoong says, breaking in. Wooyoung makes a desperate grab for the phone, but Hongjoong rolls away from him. “We need you to settle an argument.”
“What argument could you possibly be having that we can settle for you?” Seonghwa says, skeptical.
“Which of us is better at sex?”
A brief pause, and then Seonghwa says, sounding slightly baffled, “You called because you want us to tell you which of you two is better at sex. With us?”
“Yes!” Hongjoong says. Technically, he only called to ask Seonghwa, but San might as well flatter Wooyoung’s ego.
“Not just putting his dick in you in particular,” Wooyoung cuts in. “That’s cheating. You can’t lie and tell Hongjoong he’s better at sex just because I’m not as desperate to rail you. Better overall quality of the sexperience—and I think San can also vouch for the quality of the Wooyoung experience.”
“Uh,” San says after a momentary silence, “I do enjoy the Wooyoung experience! Very much! But I’m sure you’re also, um, great in bed, hyung. I just—we haven’t—I don’t know enough to say for sure? Seonghwa-hyung is always very complimentary.”
Hongjoong shoots Wooyoung a pointed look, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Seonghwa-yah,” Hongjoong says, raising his voice, “you’ve fucked both me and Wooyoung. Who’s better at it?”
“Kim Hongjoong, I am having a nice, adult dinner with Sanie,” Seonghwa says, right into the phone. They’re not on speaker anymore.
“Baby, just answer the question,” Hongjoong says, wheedling.
Voice steely, Seonghwa says, “Are you really interrupting my dinner to ask me a question to which you already know my answer, just to score points against Wooyoung?”
“So tell him I’m better at fucking you than—” The line goes dead before Hongjoong can finish his sentence. He calls back once, twice. The third time, it goes straight to voicemail.
“Wow,” Wooyoung says, “you are not getting any for, like, a month. Incredible work.”
“Fuck off,” Hongjoong says weakly. “I’m sure it was just because their entrees came.”
“That man is gonna get my boyfriend to dick him down every night, and who can blame him? San is well-trained. Polite. Thorough.” Wooyoung waggles his eyebrows.
Hongjoong covers his face with his hands. “I hate you.”
“I didn’t make you call him.” Then, Wooyoung leaves Hongjoong alone to bask in his own wretchedness for nearly an entire minute before saying, “Hey, second round? I wanna see if your stroke game is any better when we do doggy style.”