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These days he goes live looking like this.
Bared, his features curving with near perfect elegance and as soft as the lines of those brown eyes. All rough stubble and disarrayed eyebrows, the dark tuffs of his luscious locks tickling at his forehead and straying above his lids. Vulnerable. And much to Bobby’s dismay, a little hard to resist.
His in between glances are always stolen by the hot minute when Hanbin lowers his gaze, momentarily averts it elsewhere to give way to his hyung’s curious eyes so they could map out every inch of his exposure, as if he knows all about the way it makes Bobby feel. He makes Bobby feel.
As if he could hear the violent thrash of his heart every time he notices something more about the other, like a flaw– or just the bare dips and curves of his stern shoulders that twist and rise with his chest, how his muscles glide just the slightest under his fair skin whenever he shifts to grab something nearby, or lowers to wash his face. It’s a routine that he’d never admit to, not to Hanbin, not to even himself.
He hates calling it that to begin with. He always battles with himself about it, back and forth for about a minute, then giving up before he growls, or Hanbin notices and questions about his troubles. He doesn’t want to have to lie, he’s bad at it, but he also doesn’t want to explain.
Tonight’s no different, even if they’re in a hotel in Japan, practically sandwiched against each other while standing in the inconveniently fogging bathroom mirror trying to figure out their bodies before daylight, concert day.
It’s more so because the bathroom is small and Bobby’s larger in size, so he takes up a lot of space and brings them to stand skin-on-skin. He briefly wonders if the room is doing it on purpose, but then again it’s not like they haven’t been like this before.
He’s pleased and annoyed simultaneously, and almost gladly chucks a finger or two up his companions flat ass every time he playfully shoves him near the tub.
It was his idea to come over and help each other out, he insisted even after the plenty times Bobby had rejected, to avoid situations like this. To avoid staring. It was probably because the unbearably lovable asshole was bored and in desperate need of someone to touch and harass, and with his fuming hyung here, he could easily have both of those luxuries.
The simple fact that he knew that well has Bobby’s nostrils flaring a bit, although his heart is soft as butter and the elicited friction of their skins when one of them shifts for a brush, or a razor. Jesus Christ.
“Move.” He grunts, rams his elbow into his leader’s ribs when he realizes he’s practically staring at white tiles instead of his reflexion.
He needs the mirror now. His lower face is covered in an excessive amount of shaving cream that was neither of theirs- probably Yunhyeong’s, smeared even over his plump mouth and small, pointy nose for no reasons at all.
His nostrils flare again a second time, though this time its supposed to somehow get some of the cream out. To no avail, of course. He would have minded it if it weren’t for the distraction at his left.
Hanbin flinches under the countering elbow, bone to bone contact hurting like a bitch as he jumps aside and hisses through pearly whites, holding his stinging ribs like it’s on the verge of killing him. “Hyung, you’re a bad guy for that- come here.”
Bobby’s smirk is subtle, and vengeful, and then fading right back into the dark abyss from which it came from in response to the arm that soon jumps and coils so eagerly above his own naked broad shoulders, and the gently calloused palm that blooms the warmest against his chest.
Right above his heart.
He curses vulgarly at Hanbin’s choice of placement in his head, and he’s sure his heart doesn’t still anywhere near as much as he’s willing it to right now, almost breaking a damn sweat trying. The bob of his adams apple is visually prominent when long, petite fingers pinch as his shoulder.
“Hyung,”
Now it’s his turn to flinch when his ear only knows a certain nose, aside from a few straying strands of his own hairs that stand attention when caressing breaths collide nearby, like a rolling wave against his merely flushing skin.
Taunting him.
“What-“
He hates himself for wanting to lean into the comforting heat that embraces him, and hates himself even more for falling into Hanbin’s stupid tricks before he could catch up with his breath, and then squirm away from the skinship per usual.
With a chuckle his chin replaces his nose against the eldest rapper’s ear, and said rapper doesn’t stand for even one minute of hard stubble cutting away at his hearing, disrupting his earrings.
He resorts to swatting and pushing against squeezing arms and hard chest, leaning away from he who draws even closer with that little sheepish and bright, shit-eating grin that Bobby could never get used used to whenever he’s the one on the end of terrorization, his obvious amusement eating away at those lips– slyness clinging at the hands of another man who was practically his other half at this point.
He just giggles and breathes, and it makes Bobby’s knees buckle. But he tells himself it’s the weight Hanbin’s putting on him as he stubbornly clings to his struggling hyung, rather than the throb that cuts like a lightning bolt through his heart.
“You’re so annoying man... chill out, let me go!” He’s glad his voice doesn’t quiver like his knees are.
Hanbin smiles like it had. “Hey, I have to shave too, more than you do. Shave me for iKONIC too, Kimbap. I’ll let you go then.”
His digits move on autopilot to Bobby’s collarbones, rough pads harmless and smoothing down already smooth skin in his trail.
Bobby feels long sleepless nights in the studio peeling at his tan flesh at the soothing scrape of those callouses. The thought almost ripples an earthquake down his spine.
“Why...” He mutters flatly, tone drizzled with as much interest as he could currently muster. “I could cut you for all we know. They’d be wary about coming to our next shows after seeing your ugly cut.”
It just makes the other laugh in his ear, a weird-melodic, chest deep sound, addicting and beautiful, like the music he makes. His eye also does the crinkle thing, and Bobby's heart throbs thicker. He’s not changing his mind, is he?
“I’ll tell them you did it, we can go down together, even at our manager’s hands. As long as it isn’t just me, I’m fine with it. I can take the pain.”
“Why can’t you just let Jinani hyung do it? I already got stuff on my face. Hyung will probably do it way better—” And he doesn’t want to have to be stared at for however long this’ll take. Not by him. It’ll be quiet, it’ll feel more intimate than showering or bathing together.
“I don’t want Jinan hyung to do it, idiot,” Hanbin presses, and the hand at Bobby’s chest crosses his abdomen to the lower dip of his lean hip in a swift, smooth stride of warmth, hooking there and making it clear that he wasn’t about to let either of them go anywhere.
It tingles, his hand, and Bobby wants this to stop. Before he- “I already have you here. Come on.” Erupts.
He makes sure his distaste towards all of this is set clear, while the seconds feel like they last forever each, so he gives up on winning quicker than he would have ever cared to admit. Just- God, get this hand off him already.
“...Fine. But you gotta let me go first so I can see better, or it’ll really mess up your dumb face.”
His leader responds in kind, giddy when he springs back and gets the cream and the razor prepared while Bobby releases a ragged breath of relief and dread in the towel he wipes off his face with.
If he didn’t know any better he would think that those hands had just taken away some years of his life. The same ones that’d always been near him, obnoxious and touching every part of him he didn’t think a man would ever think about touching, like B.I does.
The same hands that he soon flicks at, that brush against his own slightly larger and thicker ones when he claims the materials to pull through the task at hand with.
“Here, hold this and don’t move until I move you myself.” He soldiers through putting the cream on then handing it back, focusing on every little speck and feature on the younger’s face except for his lips, and those eyes, sacked with sleep deprivation.
Those eyes that no one could ever properly explain how pretty they are, even in their worst condition.
He feels them on him, boring through his skin, attempting to skim through his expressions and thoughts, asking for attention, but he doesn’t dare to give any. He just prays this doesn’t end oddly, or painful, given he’d never done this before- never thought about it until some minutes ago.
He thinks he shits a brick when it comes to the first contact of sharp razor and gentle flesh that is not his.
But to his luck Hanbin complies to his orders, somewhat, holding still as possible in between coy remarks and amused little half-smiles and chuckles in awe at the amount of concentration that was being poured into this for him.
The way Jiwon tilts and his thick muscles move with finesse with him under the casting light, and his reflection glimmers and stares right back at him in his dark brown eyes, straight eyebrows knitting and creasing with his facial expressions.
He swears he even shudders with him when he subconsciously disrupts the space between them with cold, reaching hands that settle at his hips, tugging at his hyung like a begging child.
Bobby probably thinks he were as such, too, by the way he huffs through the nose like a bull and taps his thumb at his neatly shaven chin. A silent scold, a warning. Hanbin feels too warm under his touch to care.
“‘M almost done...”
He's content with this. “Nnn.”
The upper lip is much more a delicate spot than the chin, so Jiwon’s fingers slur as he settles into a more careful pace and density for the sake of not disappointing either of them tonight, having to glide the razor in spot for a few times and draw himself in a bit closer into danger, and his gaze tighter at the exact spot he didn’t really want to stare at for this long.
For that reason he decides to make room for mischief when he remembers it exists, effortless with how he wields it since it’s what he does, when he sneaks his fat thumb over the center of a fat pair of luscious lips and flatly locks it in place there with abrupt strength, smothering the flesh against teeth while he holds Hanbin’s chin steady with the remainder of fingers.
And he tries to squirm but a loud trail of hums and a sharp razor nearby stops him cold.
Bobby contradicts himself when he finds those same eyes he’d been running from. They’re glaring at him. Something short of bittersweet hits him when he finds a pinch of endearment among the scorching flames burning in those eyes, and it makes him hungry. Craving.
He recovers fast, though. Later when he’s alone and it's 4AM, he’d figure it out.
“I said stiiiiil, man. Calm down. Look, you look pretty handsome now.” Spending the remainder of this interaction trying not to combust into laughter easily becomes harder than holding in his own endearment when he gets the idea to leave half of Hanbin’s mustache unshaven with small shaven patches in it here and there, only pretending to shave it all off until he turns the other into the mirror for the final results.
He doesn’t even stick around for the wicked twist of expressions on Hanbin’s face, and is soon out the door with a loud snort and even louder thronging laughter that follows in pursuit and echoes throughout the entire main bedroom.
“Hyung— what did you do to me?! Do you wanna die, Kimbap? I’ll get you back, let me-“
He’s laughing, too, though, after witnessing that horror and not being able to even take himself seriously anymore, so when he finally emerges from the bathroom at full speed and manages to tackle Jiwon and all his glorious weight onto the disarrayed sheets of the large bed, smelling richly of himself and soon to be a mixture of them both, Hanbin is only pushing himself into becoming deadweight on his wriggling hyung rather than hitting him for what he’s done.
This was better a punishment than that, for Bobby.
And Bobby doesn’t fight it much this time, only pretends to because he’s laughing way too hard and is lacking of strength because Hanbin is warm, too busy trying to wipe his tears and catch his breath. And because they’re happy, and they’re together. Like old times.
He wants to feel guilty when he wishes to have this for the rest of his life when Hanbin crawls on him again after slipping off under his force, tender and flushed from chest up in the name of laughter– a beautiful, fucking gorgeous mess from their squirming, glowing under the dim light that lines his silhouette. Like an angel. Still vulnerable, half shaven and naked and all.
Everything Bobby wants, but can’t have. He waits for guilt, for his poor heart to take a tumble and shatter to millions of pieces under the other's soles, but he can’t feel anything.
He only feels Hanbin, just Hanbin.