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xiong wasn’t jealous.
not exactly.
he was just watching. watching the way yetao sat with his legs crossed, one foot bouncing slightly as he laughed at something aguang said. watching how koshin leaned in close, murmuring something in his ear—something that made yetao smile, tilting his head slightly, lips parting in that soft, breathless way that had everyone looking.
it wasn’t just them.
shen’s eyes lingered every time yetao shifted, as if he was studying him. dorn, on the other hand, wasn’t even trying to be subtle. his gaze flickered between yetao and the camera, like he was debating if he should even bother holding back when the whole world was already seeing what he saw.
xiong clenched his jaw.
he felt it.
felt the way dorn's eyes lingered on him for too long. the way shen kept sneaking glances, gaze trailing from yetao's face to the exposed skin of his collarbone, peeking out from his loose shirt.
his hands curled into fists against his thighs.
focus, he told himself. ignore it. it's not your problem.
but it was his problem.
they were in different teams. yetao wasn’t even sitting near him. and yet, xiong could feel his presence like a fire at his back—bright, flickering, impossible to ignore. he wasn’t even talking to yetao, but his attention stayed locked on him, burning holes into the side of his head every time he laughed, every time he leaned in toward someone else.
yetao didn't even notice.
didn't see the way shen was staring at his mouth. didn't notice how dorn's gaze lingered on the exposed skin of his neck. didn't see the way xiong's jaw clenched, the way his hands twitched against his knees, the way something dark and possessive curled in his stomach.
it was fine. he could handle this.
until the pictures started.
it was supposed to be a casual moment-everyone standing around, laughing, adjusting their angles. one by one, the trainees got up to pose together, switching places, and grouping up with different people. yetao had been sitting comfortably in his spot, giggling over some joke xiong didn't catch but the moment someone called for him, he stood up—his seat suddenly empty, abandoned.
xiong’s body moved before he could think.
he dropped into the seat, hands braced on his thighs, staring straight ahead like it was a completely natural thing to do. but the moment he sat, he could feel it. the warmth still lingering on the chair, the faintest scent of yetao’s cologne clinging to the air.
he could imagine him still here.
imagine what it would be like if yetao had stayed, if he had just sunk down into xiong’s lap instead, all warm and trusting, like it was the most natural thing in the world. how it would've been like if yetao had never stood up, if he had just stayed, let xiong wrap an arm around his waist and pull him in instead of letting everyone else hover around him.
the thought was dangerous.
too dangerous.
his fingers twitched.
xiong sat there for a long moment, expression unreadable, until he finally sighed and moved to the seat beside it instead.
when yetao returned, he blinked in confusion, glancing between xiong and his stolen seat. "xiong?”
“sit here,” he muttered, patting the chair beside him.
it wasn’t a request.
yetao blinked, but obeyed without question, sliding into the chair with that same effortless grace he always had. the fabric of his sleeve brushed against xiong’s wrist.
he exhaled slowly, tilting his head toward the camera.
for now, this was enough.
xiong knew yetao wasn’t trying to get under his skin.
that was the problem.
if yetao knew what he was doing, maybe he would have stopped. maybe he wouldn’t be so… free with his touches, so easy with his smiles, so utterly unaware of the way people looked at him.
but yetao was yetao—soft, warm, pretty. the kind of boy who turned heads without even trying. the kind of boy who naturally drew people in.
and right now, he was in everyone else’s orbit but xiong’s.
it started with shen.
he had always been composed, quiet—but when yetao turned toward him, grinning with that bright-eyed, baby-faced innocence, shen visibly hesitated before responding. his eyes flickered downward for half a second, just a moment, before he swallowed and answered yetao’s question.
xiong clenched his fist against his thigh.
yetao had no idea. no awareness of what just happened. he just laughed, that small, sweet giggle slipping past his lips as if it was nothing.
shen smiled.
it was brief. barely noticeable. but xiong saw it.
yetao was still giggling when he shifted slightly in his seat, the hem of his shirt riding up just a bit as he adjusted his position.
shen’s gaze dropped.
xiong nearly scoffed.
pathetic.
if shen was subtle, dorn was the opposite.
that man was shameless.
yetao, as always, was oblivious—smiling as dorn slung an arm around his shoulders, leaning into his space just a bit too easily.
they were joking about something, something yetao had said earlier. but all xiong could focus on was the way dorn let his hand linger against the back of yetao’s chair, fingers curling loosely around the wood like he wanted to touch. like he wanted an excuse.
xiong bit the inside of his cheek.
if dorn actually tried, xiong didn't know what he would do.
yetao, meanwhile, was laughing again, completely unaware of the way dorn kept sneaking glances at him. at the curve of his lips. at the way he tilted his head, so effortlessly pretty without even trying.
xiong forced himself to look away.
thio was dangerous.
not because he was flirtatious like dorn, or because he stared too much like shen, but because yetao liked him.
he was comfortable with thio. trusted him.
xiong saw it in the way yetao automatically leaned in when thio whispered something to him. saw it in the way his eyes softened, in the way he didn’t flinch when thio nudged him, touched his arm, rested a hand against his knee for half a second.
too close.
yetao didn’t even realize it.
didn’t realize how that kind of trust was like dangling raw meat in front of a pack of wolves.
and thio—damn him—knew exactly what he was doing.
he leaned in again, saying something low against yetao’s ear, and yetao, sweet, clueless yetao, just nodded, lips curling up into a tiny smile.
xiong’s grip on his knee tightened.
he had been patient. he had let yetao run around, let him be his cutesy, oblivious self, let him play at innocence in front of people who definitely weren’t thinking innocent things.
but now, xiong was done watching.
now, he had to do something.
the moment the livestream ended, yetao stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up just slightly to reveal a sliver of fair, smooth skin. the movement was completely unconscious—innocent, even—but xiong’s gaze flickered down immediately, catching that fleeting glimpse before the fabric fell back into place. his fingers curled into his palms, nails pressing against his skin as he forced his expression to remain neutral.
the room was still buzzing with chatter as the trainees packed up, laughing and stretching, their energy high after the broadcast. yetao, as always, was at the center of it—his presence quiet, but drew people in without him even trying. he was laughing softly at something omar had said, his dimples deep and his shoulders slightly shaking as he reached for an empty water bottle to throw away.
xiong exhaled sharply through his nose.
the entire livestream had been hell.
yetao had always been the kind of person people gravitated toward, but tonight had been unbearable.
first, dorn had spent half the time staring at yetao with open admiration, making little comments under his breath about how cute yetao looked under the soft lighting. every time yetao so much as smiled in his direction, dorn’s grin grew wider, his confidence bolder. then there was thio, who wasn’t even trying to be subtle, leaning in far too close whenever he spoke to yetao, his dark eyes lingering on yetao’s lips for just a second too long. even shen—who usually kept things lighthearted—had been making yetao laugh more than usual, his shoulder brushing yetao’s every now and then, testing boundaries.
and yetao?
yetao had let them.
not out of any sort of malice—no, he was far too sweet for that.
but that only made it worse.
yetao was oblivious. completely unaware of how he looked, how his voice softened when he spoke, how his gaze flitted downward when he was embarrassed. he never noticed when people flirted with him, never realized that every smile, every casual touch he gave out so freely was driving xiong insane.
and now?
now yetao was getting up to leave, humming softly under his breath, completely unaware of the storm brewing just a few feet away.
xiong’s patience was thin—stretched nearly to its breaking point.
he straightened, rolling his shoulders back, his face betraying nothing.
“yetao.”
yetao turned instantly, blinking up at him, his expression open and trusting. “hm?”
xiong gestured vaguely at the mess on the table. “stay and help me clean up.”
yetao hesitated for a brief second, glancing at the others who were already gathering their things to leave. normally, he would’ve followed them out without a second thought, but then he smiled, warm and unguarded as always.
“of course!”
xiong exhaled slowly.
good boy.
the others barely noticed as they filtered out of the room, but xiong saw everything.
dorn, on his way out, reached out to ruffle yetao’s hair like he had every right to do so, flashing him a grin. “night, princess.”
xiong’s fingers twitched.
shen, the only quiet observer, gave a slow nod in yetao’s direction, his lips curling ever so slightly at the edges.
xiong exhaled through his nose.
thio was the last to go, throwing a lazy arm over yetao’s shoulder in a brief half-hug before murmuring something that made yetao giggle. his hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary before he finally stepped back, sending him a wink.
something inside xiong snapped.
the door clicked shut.
silence.
yetao let out a little sigh, brushing his hair back from his face before reaching for an empty cup on the table.
he didn’t get the chance to touch it.
before he could even wrap his fingers around the plastic, xiong was behind him. yetao barely had time to register the shift before xiong caught his wrist, his grip firm—not rough, but not allowing for escape either.
yetao froze.
“xiong?” his voice was soft, uncertain. his head turned slightly, his lips parted as if he wasn’t sure what to say next.
xiong didn’t answer.
instead, he stepped forward, closing the space between them until yetao’s back met the edge of the table. he moved with an ease that left yetao breathless, controlling the movement without force, without giving yetao any room to resist.
yetao’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “…what are you—”
xiong placed his hands on either side of yetao’s waist, caging him in.
yetao’s fingers curled against the edge of the table. “xiong, we should—”
“we’re not cleaning.”
yetao hesitated.
xiong tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes skimming over yetao’s face—his lips, his sharp jawline, the faint flush creeping up his neck.
“did you have fun today?”
yetao blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. “o-of course.” his voice wavered. just a little.
xiong hummed.
“i could tell.”
yetao frowned slightly. “what do you mean?”
xiong let out a slow, almost amused exhale.
“you were smiling a lot,” he said, voice steady.
yetao’s brows furrowed, confused. “that’s… bad?”
xiong’s lips curled—not in a smile, but something darker.
“not bad,” he murmured. “just… irritating.”
yetao stiffened.
xiong lifted a hand, catching a strand of yetao’s soft, light hair between his fingers.
“you never noticed, did you?”
yetao’s breath hitched slightly. “noticed what?”
xiong’s fingers trailed lower, brushing over yetao’s shoulder, his grip shifting until his hand wrapped loosely around the curve of his arm. yetao sucked in a tiny breath, pressing back against the table as if he could disappear into it.
xiong leaned in, close enough that yetao could feel his warmth, his breath against his cheek. “you let them touch you,” he murmured, voice deceptively soft. “let them call you pretty. let them get close.”
yetao’s lips parted, his breaths uneven. “i—i didn’t—”
xiong exhaled slowly, his mouth barely ghosting over the curve of yetao’s jaw.
yetao let out the tiniest, breathiest gasp.
xiong’s grip on his waist tightened.
“you don’t even think about it, do you?”
yetao shivered.
xiong’s fingers flexed, pressing just slightly into the soft skin of his waist.
“you make it so easy for them,” xiong murmured. “smiling. laughing. sitting too close. letting them put their hands on you.”
yetao swallowed hard, his breaths coming in shallow little gasps as xiong’s grip on his waist tightened, harsh enough to leave marks. the room was silent except for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of voices fading down the hall.
he had agreed to stay behind without hesitation. had smiled at him so sweetly, so oblivious, not realizing he was walking straight into a trap.
and xiong?
he had no intention of letting him go so easily.
he leaned in even closer, his lips just a hair’s breadth away from yetao’s ear. “you still haven’t answered me,” he murmured, voice low and edged with something yetao wasn’t sure he had the strength to name.
yetao’s fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater. “a-answered what?”
xiong’s grip shifted, one hand sliding up yetao’s side, tracing the curve of his ribs beneath the soft fabric.
“why you let them touch you.”
yetao’s breath hitched.
“i—i didn’t—”
xiong clicked his tongue, tilting his head slightly, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below yetao’s ear. the movement was slow—deliberate. a warning.
yetao shivered.
“you did,” xiong countered, his voice dropping lower. “you always do.”
his fingers trailed higher, catching in the loose collar of yetao’s shirt, pulling just slightly—just enough to expose the delicate line of his collarbone.
“you smiled at them,” xiong continued, his breath warm against yetao’s skin. “let them sit too close. let them touch your hair, your hands…” his fingers ghosted along the side of yetao’s neck, his thumb pressing just lightly enough to make yetao’s pulse stutter beneath his touch.
“xiong—”
“if you’re going to act like this,” he murmured, pressing in closer until yetao’s back was flush against his chest, “then you should at least know what it does to me.”
yetao whimpered, his lashes fluttering as he tried—tried—to keep his breathing steady.
xiong was too close. too warm. too much.
yetao’s hands lifted, pressing lightly against xiong’s chest as if to push him away, but he barely had the strength to apply any real pressure. his fingers curled instead, gripping at the fabric of xiong’s hoodie like he wanted to resist but couldn’t bring himself to.
xiong exhaled, a quiet little huff of amusement.
“look at me.”
yetao flinched.
his gaze had been darting anywhere but xiong’s eyes—his own feet, the table behind him, the walls—but now xiong’s fingers caught his chin, tilting his head up forcefully.
“i said, look at me.”
yetao swallowed, finally—finally—meeting xiong’s gaze.
and oh, he shouldn’t have.
because xiong’s eyes were dark. not just with jealousy, but something deeper— something possessive.
yetao shuddered.
xiong’s grip on his chin tightened.
“you’re good at ignoring me when you want to be,” he murmured. “you looked at them just fine. smiled at them. laughed for them.”
yetao’s breath came in short, shaky exhales. “xiong—”
“but when it comes to me?” xiong tilted his head, studying yetao’s trembling lips. “suddenly, you don’t know where to look.”
“i—i wasn’t—”
yetao’s brows furrowed slightly, confused—just for a second—before he felt xiong’s hand slide lower, skimming along his ribs, his waist, his thighs—
yetao gasped. his body jolted at the sensation, his breath catching as heat flooded his skin. his fingers curled instinctively into xiong’s hoodie, as if he needed something to hold onto, as if his legs might give out if he didn’t ground himself somehow.
his breath was uneven. shallow. his mind a haze of lingering confusion and something darker, something dangerously close to anticipation.
he wasn’t sure what xiong was going to do next.
but he knew it wasn’t going to be kind.
xiong leaned in, his lips grazing against the shell of yetao’s ear, and in a voice too low, too smooth, too calm, he murmured—
"stay still.”
yetao barely had time to process the command before he heard the quiet click of a button.
his stomach dropped.
yetao’s breath hitched, his eyes darting up—and that’s when he saw it.
the tripod camera.
the same one they had used for the livestream just minutes ago.
the red recording light blinked once. twice.
then it turned on.
yetao froze.
"xiong—" his voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper.
xiong exhaled softly, his fingers pressing just a little deeper into the curve of yetao’s waist, locking him in place. "if you won’t look at me," he murmured, his breath warm against yetao’s cheek, "then i will turn on that camera and make everyone watch instead."
yetao shuddered.
his fingers clenched tighter in xiong’s hoodie, his body stiffening as a flush of heat crept up his neck. "you’re lying," he whispered, his voice barely holding steady.
xiong’s smirk was slow, almost lazy.
"am i?”
yetao’s breath came quicker now, his chest rising and falling in short, unsteady motions.
the camera was on.
the realization slammed into him like a tidal wave, making his knees feel weak, making his mind spiral.
of course, xiong wasn’t really going to do anything.
right?
right??
but the sheer audacity of the threat, the way xiong delivered it so effortlessly, like he had planned this all along, like he knew exactly how to unravel him—
yetao’s throat went dry.
his lashes fluttered. his lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
and xiong?
xiong just watched him.
drunk in the sight of of him—trapped, flustered, trembling in his grasp.
then, slowly, deliberately, xiong’s hand slid higher, his thumb ghosting over the side of yetao’s neck, pressing just lightly enough to feel the frantic pulse beneath his skin.
"you don’t want them to see, do you?" xiong murmured.
yetao swallowed hard, shaking his head just slightly.
"then look at me.”
yetao whimpered.
xiong’s lips hovered just over the pulse in his throat.
“…still wanna clean up?”
yetao didn’t answer.
didn’t dare to.
not when xiong was this close. not when the warmth of his breath was sending shivers down yetao’s spine. not when he was finally starting to understand exactly what kind of trouble he was in.
xiong smirked.
his hand slid higher, fingertips tracing over yetao’s pulse point—
“…that’s what i thought.”
the moment their lips met, it was like the world fell away. xiong’s hand moved quickly to the back of yetao’s neck, fingers threading into his hair and tugging him closer. There was no hesitation in the kiss—xiong’s lips were demanding, and yetao was caught off guard, gasping against him as his body instinctively leaned into the kiss.
xiong’s free hand slid from yetao’s waist to his back, pressing their bodies closer as the kiss deepened. yetao’s breath caught in his throat, too surprised to pull away, but not enough to protest either. his hands found purchase on xiong’s chest, unsure of where to go as the other boy’s lips moved against his with a growing hunger.
but then xiong pulled back, breaking the kiss just long enough to shift positions. he settled back into the chair—yetao's chair, and before yetao could process what was happening, xiong’s hands gripped his waist, tugging him onto his lap with surprising ease. the transition was smooth, almost calculated, as if xiong had been waiting for this moment since the beginning of the livestream.
yetao’s legs straddled xiong’s hips, and he instinctively gripped onto his shoulders for balance. his heart raced in his chest, pulse thrumming in his ears as xiong’s hands ran up and down his sides. his lips were on him again in an instant, catching his bottom lip in a deep kiss that had yetao melting into him.
xiong’s hold on him tightened, pulling him even closer, until their bodies were flush against each other. yetao could feel the heat of xiong’s chest against his own, the thrum of his heartbeat matching the frantic rhythm of his own.
xiong’s lips left yetao’s for a brief moment, breath coming hard. his eyes were dark, filled with desire, and his hands moved lower, skimming over the fabric of yetao’s shirt, until they rested on his hips. “i’ve been wanting this for so long,” he murmured, voice low and rough.
before yetao could respond, xiong’s lips crashed back down on his, but this time, the kiss was rougher, more insistent. his hands slid beneath yetao’s shirt, the coolness of his fingertips brushing against the warm skin of his sides. a soft hiss escaped yetao at the sudden coldness as he squirmed against the other boy, his body reacting to the growing heat between them.
xiong chuckled against his lips, pulling him impossibly closer, his hands gripping his waist harder. yetao let out a soft gasp as xiong’s hips pressed against his, a sudden friction that made his mind go blank. xiong smirked, clearly enjoying the way yetao’s body responded to him.
“relax,” xiong murmured, his lips moving from yetao’s mouth to the sensitive skin of his neck. his teeth grazed the skin there, causing yetao to gasp again, his fingers digging into xiong’s shoulders for stability.
but xiong wasn’t done yet. his hands slid down to yetao’s thighs, giving them a firm squeeze before he shifted slightly, his body pulling yetao’s even closer. the movement was slow, deliberate, as though xiong was savoring every moment of this, every inch of contact.
yetao’s breath hitched as their hips aligned even more, the pressure building between them. he didn’t know what to do with his hands, where to put them, so he left them tangled in xiong’s hair, tugging him closer, if that was even possible.
“look at me, tao,” xiong murmured against his neck, his voice almost a growl. yetao’s eyes fluttered open at the command, and he looked into xiong’s gaze, the intense emotion in his eyes making his stomach flutter.
xiong pulled back slightly, his hands still gripping yetao’s waist as he stared at him, almost studying him. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick. “i can’t let anyone else have you.”
the words hit yetao like a jolt, his heart pounding even faster in his chest. he could feel the heat radiating from xiong’s body, the way the other boy’s grip tightened as he spoke, like he was staking his claim.
before yetao could respond, xiong’s lips were on his again, deeper this time, harder, and yetao gave in to it. his body was pliant against xiong’s, the kiss becoming an uncontrollable rhythm of give and take. he didn’t want to think anymore—didn’t want to process anything except the sensation of xiong’s hands on him, pulling him closer, claiming him.
yetao’s breath was uneven, his body flush against xiong’s, his mind barely keeping up with what was happening. he could still feel the phantom sensation of xiong’s lips on his, the weight of his hands gripping his waist, the way he whispered those dangerous words like a promise.
but then, just as yetao thought xiong would take things even further, the taller boy suddenly stilled. he exhaled, slow and heavy, resting his forehead against yetao’s. his grip loosened, but he didn’t let go. instead, his fingers traced soothing circles against yetao’s hips, grounding them both.
“…i should stop here,” xiong muttered, his voice low and heavy with restraint.
yetao blinked, still dazed, lips swollen from their kisses. his hands, still tangled in xiong’s shirt, trembled slightly, and he didn’t understand why his chest ached at those words. his mind was clouded, his body warm, but xiong—xiong was holding back.
“…why?” the question left yetao’s lips before he could stop it, barely more than a breathless whisper.
xiong’s dark eyes flickered, searching yetao’s face, as if debating something in his head. then, with a slow smirk, he tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against yetao’s ear. “because if i don’t, it’ll ruin you.”
a shiver ran down yetao’s spine. he knew xiong wasn’t talking about just this moment—he was talking about everything. about the way he was possessive, about the way he couldn’t stand seeing yetao in anyone else’s orbit, about the way he wanted more than yetao probably realized.
xiong’s hands slid down, gripping yetao’s thighs before he slowly lifted him off his lap, setting him back onto another chair. yetao wobbled slightly, knees weak, and xiong had the audacity to chuckle, his fingers ghosting over yetao’s flushed cheek before he stood up.
“go back to the dorms before i change my mind,” xiong said, his voice laced with something dangerous, something tempting.
yetao should have moved. should have gotten up, fixed his clothes, and walked out like none of this happened. but instead, he sat there, watching as xiong walked toward the tripod that had recorded the entire livestream earlier.
xiong reached for the camera, running his fingers over it before glancing back at yetao, eyes gleaming with amusement. “unless… you’d rather i hit record?” his smirk was teasing, but yetao could hear the underlying challenge in his tone.
yetao’s face burned, his stomach twisting at the mere thought. “x-xiong—!”
but xiong only laughed, shaking his head as he switched the camera off entirely, his smirk never fading. “relax, tao. your secret’s safe with me.”
yetao swallowed, his pulse still erratic, as he finally stood up, his legs still unsteady. he glared at xiong, though the heat in his gaze betrayed him. “you’re—”
xiong stepped closer, pressing a single finger under yetao’s chin, tilting his face up. “i’m what?”
yetao’s breath hitched, but he refused to give xiong the satisfaction of seeing him falter again. with all the defiance he could muster, he huffed, pushing xiong’s hand away. “…infuriating.”
xiong only chuckled, unbothered. “don't pretend you don't love it.”
yetao turned on his heel before xiong could tease him any further, storming toward the door, though his heartbeat still hadn’t calmed. he knew xiong was right. he also knew this wasn’t over—not even close.
as he reached for the handle, xiong’s voice rang out once more.
“next time, i won’t stop.”
yetao didn’t turn back. he just opened the door, stepped out, and let it close behind him—pretending that the thought of ‘next time’ didn’t make his stomach flip.