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Desire… It’s a strange thing.
It creeps in without invitation, ties itself into knots around their victim’s wrists and ankles, turns them into their puppets to manipulate at will. Sets off dominoes that can only tether and fall into catastrophe, it’s desire that makes Joochan want things he can’t have, shouldn’t want.
It pulses in his veins, coaxes him to rid the space between him and Sungyoon, to pull the other closer, until they’re suffocating in each other’s oxygen. Whispers for him to press their bodies flush against each other until Joochan’s fingers have mapped out each and every slope and ridge of Sungyoon’s body, until Sungyoon’s lips are tracing his skin, kissing the places even Joochan himself has never visited.
Desire, it’s what locks their eyes in the midst of Joochan’s performances, encourages for their accidental brushes to occur one too many times to be entirety accidental, to linger a little too long to be entirely innocent.
The brushes, the contact—they have Joochan yearning for more, starving for Sungyoon to tighten the knots of desire and tangle his own fingers into them, to become his puppeteer.
Sungyoon’s eyes when Joochan approaches him to request for assistance in polishing a choreography are unreadable. Neither of them voice the unsaid out loud—that without a doubt, Joochan has already learned the choreography to perfection.
But he agrees all the same, and Joochan knows why—because for all his vacancy and disinterest, the other wants the same things—Sungyoon’s lips crave for Joochan’s, his skin starves for Joochan’s fingers.
The practice room, it’s a gateway between reality and fantasy. Here, brushes become bolder, firmer, shared looks persist for minutes on end, and somehow, they end up against the wall, the rough, sandy wallpaper digging into Joochan’s back.
Sungyoon is close enough now that Joochan is nearly drawing breath from him, little puffs of hot air that ghost over Joochan’s face. The sound of their ragged breathing fills the air, amplified by the silence.
The look on the other’s face is hidden by the dense fringe of black that curtains his eyes. Despite himself, Joochan’s eyes slide downwards, to where Sungyoon’s shirt sticks to his heaving chest, lingering on the exposed skin of his neck. Their chests are hardly inches apart, the heat radiating off of Sungyoon sinking into Joochan, streaking down his spine, into the core of his bones. Just a little more, a little closer… and the gnawing hunger in his bones can finally fade away…
“...I don’t remember this being part of the choreography.” The words are hardly more than a whisper. Speaking any louder feels wrong, somehow—as if the loudness will destroy this bubble of tension they’re wrapped in, bring them back to reality and force them to face the consequences of their actions.
“It’s not.” Sungyoon’s voice is rough and hoarse from the constant exertion of dancing—or maybe, something else.
But Joochan doesn’t dwell on that.
“Then what are you doing?”
“I don’t fucking know.”
Silence lapses between them, silence so loud it rings in Joochan’s eardrums. Sungyoon’s fists are clenched from where they’re planted on either side of Joochan’s shoulders. As if it’s taking him everything, every last bit of willpower to hold back from-
Hold back from what?
Joochan’s fingers reach more insistently, palm laying flat against the heaving chest. The sound of his heart is deafening—he wonders if Sungyoon can hear it.
But is it his heart that’s pounding, or is it Sungyoon’s, running wild under Joochan’s palm?
Breath caught in his throat and fingers stuttering in hesitation, his left joins his right as his hands float upward, thumbing at Sungyoon’s clavicle, dipping into the prominent hollows. The other’s skin is clammy with sweat, under his touch that only grows more and more daring, more sure. And yet, Sungyoon doesn’t budge, doesn’t try to shrug him off.
In a rush of courage, he reaches farther, hands sliding up and past his shoulders, cupping the back of Sungyoon’s neck, fingertips brushing the short hairs of his neck. Sungyoon shivers under his touch and then he’s clasping a hand over Joochan’s on his neck, stilling his movement.
“Don’t.” His throat bobs in a swallow and Joochan tracks the movement with his eyes, watches the way the other’s jaw tightens. His mouth feels too dry.
They must be from the dancing: the sweat beading his forehead, the erratic breaths puffing from his lips, the slam of his heart against his ribcage, because what else can they be from?
And he should keep it that way, pull away before they turn into reactions that aren’t from dancing, but from the flex of Sungyoon’s muscles, the parting of his lips, the hot breath against his collarbone.
The sound of trainees chatting as they walk past the practice room floats in and yet, neither of them make a move to push away from the other.
Perhaps it’s too late. Perhaps the flush of his cheeks, the drying of his mouth, it’s already because of Sungyoon.
“Or?” The singular word is airy, soft against Sungyoon’s lips. Demanding. Inquiring.
Sungyoon doesn’t answer and Joochan’s fingers trail higher, past the angle of his tense jaw, past the curve of his ear, tangling into dark hair.
Sungyoon’s hair is damp with sweat as Joochan drags his fingers through it, nails scraping against scalp. With an encouraging tug of his hand, his head tips back, bangs fanning across his forehead, splaying apart to reveal his eyes.
And Joochan can only be thankful for the wall against him, or else he would have surely collapsed into a heap with how his knees weaken and his heart bursts in his chest.
“Or,” Sungyoon husks and his eyes are half-lidded and dark, smoldering with want, “ I won’t be able to hold back.”
And then his lips are on Joochan’s and Joochan’s fingers are buried in damp hair and Sungyoon’s arms are around his waist and they’re kissing and kissing and kissing, with lips, with tongue, with teeth, salty and sweet.
Hands are under clothing, caressing, scratching at skin and Joochan loses track of whether it’s him who’s touching Sungyoon or if he’s the one being touched, but all he knows is that he’s suffocating in Sungyoon and Sungyoon and Sungyoon-
“Don’t hold back," he murmurs against kiss-bruised lips and-
Sungyoon devours him.