Chapter Text
Namgyu was gay.
So fucking gay.
It was almost so comically funny that he almost felt like with every gay person he ever met, he would absorb part of their gayness in his miserable ass life at Club Pentagon. But he was kinda relieved he had got away from all the obnoxious fake bitches and old ass men trying to get his number, sure, women would ask him to take their picture for them or something and briefly touch his shoulder and give him bedroom eyes, but all he had to do was just say he needed to get back to work and their curiosity and interest in him was whisked away with a complementary drink or the sudden need for Namgyu to use the bathroom. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he liked men because he hated women (not misogynistically, but more or so less thinks their just evil bitches...as if he wasn't one himself) it was more like he had to control his sexual urges to just touch a male players toned abs, soaked with sweat through his t-shirt, or, refrain himself from staring to long at the guys - usually - huge dick next to him.
Don't get him wrong though, its not like he hated being gay. It was just how he hated being surrounded by men. Hot, sweaty, masculine men in a giant room full of beds. Jeez, these games had no filter did they? All this exercise and and anxiety - mixed in with the occasional pill pop from Thanos - or as Su-bong would like to call it: "The Jesus Casket" - made the whole world seemed ever so slightly more fucked up than it already was.
So Kim Namgyu knew he was gay.
But meeting Thanos - Choi Su-bong - again made it feel like the universe or some other worldly, weird ass being, maybe even God himself was trying to prove to Namgyu that he was a boy kisser. As if he didn't painstakingly know how hot men were. Fuck the world, man.
Namgyu tossed restlessly between his mattress and the light ass weight blanket. It had only been the first day of the games and obviously he couldn't sleep after what he had just witnessed during Red Light, Green Light. His body was getting warm just thinking about the metallic tang of the blood, its smell filling up the brightly lit room, red mixing with the grainy sand, its smell overpowering sweat and pure desperation. Despite what his body screamed at him not to do, he undid the zip of his jacket, a flash of his player number: 124.
Carelessly kicking it to the bottom of the bed, dark green bunching up sadly. Namgyu let his hands press together against his fore head before pushing his oily hair out of his face, staring up at the metal bars underneath the top bunk shining slightly if he squinted. He turned his head to his right and was startled when he was met with an equally very-much-not-asleep Su-bong staring blankly at Namgyu.
Namgyu propped himself up on his elbows, t-shirt riding up the back of his back onto the pillow, he feel himself start to heat up of how vulnerable he acted in the eyes of Thanos. He screwed his eyes in the dark to see the mess of purple hair of a man Infront of him, he couldn't really see shit without his contacts - they even took away his glasses - what did they people who ran this game think he was gonna do with them? Kill someone?
He turned his attention back to Thanos, who was still unblinkingly staring at Namgyu like predator to prey and whispered-ish clearly:
"Welcome to Thanos World, bae-by " Namgyu pulled up his sheets and tilted his head slightly in fatigue as Su-bong grinned stupidly, mimicking Namgyu's head tilt. Thanos shifted on his bed and lay on his stomach, exposing his legs as he kicked off the blanket and pursed his lips rocking his head side to side as Namgyu stared lazily at him with interest. It was obvious that Thanos was high on something. His eyes were glazed over and he was talking in a strange, almost nonsensical way. Namgyu noticed that he had a slight slur to his speech and that he seemed to be struggling to keep his thoughts straight.
As Namgyu watched him, he couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern. Namgyu’s pulse thrummed low in his throat. That pill - a small, colorful, circular tablet - had turned Su-bong into this giddy little child on a sugar high.
He swallowed.
“Su-bong,” he whispered, testing the name, almost scared to say it to him. “What… what did you take?” Thanos just blinked slowly - languid, amused - like Namgyu was a puzzle he didn’t care to solve tonight.
“Mmm… tastes like heaven,” Su-bong mumbled instead, smacking his lips dramatically before rolling onto his back and stretching one arm behind his head. “Wanna know how it feels? Gotta pay with something, my boy”. Namgyu felt his mouth go a little dry. Something? That could mean anything. And the way Thanos was watching him...it was as if the drug was making Namgyu seem even more attractive, more intriguing, in Thanos' blurred gaze.
"What 'something'?" he asked hesitantly, but there was a hint of eagerness in his voice he couldn't quite suppress. He leaned forward slightly towards Thanos' bed, waiting for Thanos' answer, unsure of where this was leading but he was kinda really desperate for a hit anytime soon...
"Oh, not just anything," Su-bong purred, dragging a lazy finger down his own collarbone. "I mean... a truth. One you ain't ever told nobody." He cracked one eye open - sharp despite the haze - like he already knew where all the bodies were buried. Namgyu stiffened. A truth? Here? Now? With this half-lit madman grinning at him like he was about to win the Squid Games already?
“Depends,” Namgyu said slowly, pulse ticking louder. “What kind of truth?”
Thanos chuckled - low and syrupy - then reached to his cross necklace, unlocking it and picking up a purple-coloured pill with his index and thumb, swirling it around Namgyus face - making shapes in the air.
“The kind that makes your bones hum,” he whispered. “But first… you gotta give me something real. No lies. No pretty masks.” His grin widened, crooked and knowing. “Or walk back to your bed scared pretty boy.”
Namgyu didn’t move right away. He stared at that pill - so small, so bright against Su-bong’s grimy fingers - then back at those unnervingly alert eyes beneath the drug-fogged smile.
Was this trust? Or trap?
He swallowed hard… but leaned forward anyway.
"...Fine." His voice dropped to a thread of sound only Thanos could hear:
"I used to jerk off thinking about my high school soccer coach every night for two years."
A beat passed in silence.
Then Thanos burst into silent laughter - shoulders shaking, mouth wide but no sound coming out except breathless snorts as if it delighted him on some primal level
And just like that,
he pressed the red pill into Namgyu’s palm with warm fingers that lingered too long:
“Welcome to realness, baby."
Namgyu curled his fingers around the pill like it was something sacred. “Thank you… hyung,” he murmured, voice tight with a mix of shame and anticipation.
He was already turning to go, back to his bunk, back to darkness and silence - but then he paused. Something nagged at him. That laugh had been too knowing, too hungry. He turned back slowly.
“Wait,” Namgyu said, low and sharp now. “What are you gonna do with it? My truth?” His eyes narrowed in the dim glow from the bathroom light seeping further away. "You gonna tell people? Use it against me later?"
Thanos just stared at him, still grinning that lopsided grin and shrugged one shoulder like it meant nothing.
“Drugs are payment enough,” he drawled. “Now go on. Shush-shush.”
But Namgyu didn’t move. Instead, he climbed onto the bed again, knees sinking into the thin mattress beside Su-bong’s hip.
“You don’t get to know me like that,” he whispered fiercely, bracing a hand on Su-bong’s chest as if to pin him down with sheer will alone, "and then act like we're even. What do you want from me?"
Then -
It hit.
A wave of heat surged through his body - not pain, not pleasure - just expansion, as if his ribs were cracking open for light instead of air. His grip tightened instinctively on Su-bong's sleeve, knuckles whitening as warmth flooded his limbs like melted copper beneath skin. The world softened at once: edges blurred, sounds stretched out, breathing deepened. He swayed slightly where he sat but still refused to fall. Su-bong tilted his head up toward him with slow amusement, pupils blown wide but mind sharper than ever behind them.
"...Mmm?" he hummed, watching Namgyu tremble there above him, half-lost already. "Too much for you... pretty little secret keeper?"
He reached up lazily, and brushed a thumb across Namgyu’s fevered cheekbone. "Or is this just where it starts?"
But Namgyu threw his head backwards, exposing his neck infront of Su-bong - hissing.
"Oh god yes. Heaven"
"Oh?"
Su-bong's hand tightened on his cheek, thumb pressed right against the corner of Namgyu's mouth. "Something finally feel good, my Nam-su?"
Namgyu felt that touch like a jolt straight down his spine. He tried to breathe, tried to steady himself - but those fingers only made it harder.
"Stop calling me that..." he managed to whisper - but it came out sounding way, way less indignant than he intended.
"Why? Fits so well." Su-bong's thumb drifted over Namgyu's bottom lip, teasing it apart. "You act all tough, but here you are on my bed, shaking like you're gonna come undone just from me touching you."
Heat rushed through Namgyu's whole body, but it felt weirdly good. Right. "Shut up," he managed to bite back, even as his own hands clutched tightly at Su-bong's shirt.
"Come on."
Su-bong's voice snapped him out of the hazy warmth, and Namgyu found himself being hauled off the bed, being picked up from his armpits.
"Where - where are we going?" he mumbled, legs suddenly uncooperative.
But Su-bong was leading him towards the bathroom, one arm looped around his waist to keep him from stumbling. The tile floor felt ice cold beneath Namgyu's bare feet, he took of his white shoes befor he got off into bed; he shivered involuntarily, pressing closer without thinking. Once inside, Su-bong steered him toward the sink. The sudden brightness of the white lights glared at him and the pinkness of it all made him see stars "Lean over," he murmured, fingers still curled just above Namgyu's hip. Namgyu did as he was told if only because he was too dizzy to do otherwise. Cold porcelain seethed against his jacket, through his skin, grounding him just enough to protest, "What are you doing?"
Su-bong's voice rumbled against his ear, low and amused. "Taking care of you. You're shaking like a scared little rabbit, my Nam-su"
Su-bong reached past him and turned on the faucet. Cold water splashed into the sink, sharp in contrast to Namgyu’s flushed skin.
"Look," Su-bong said, gripping Namgyu's chin gently but firmly. "Just watch." At first, all Namgyu saw was his own reflection - eyes wide, cheeks burning red, lips parted like he’d been caught mid-sin. But then something shifted. The water rippled. And for just a second - a flicker - he didn’t see himself at all. He saw someone else. A face half-formed in the mirror: older, gaunt-eyed… screaming silently behind glass. Namgyu flinched back with a gasp, and slammed straight into Su-bong’s chest.
"Wh-what the hell was that?!"
Su-bong didn’t react. Didn’t blink. Just pressed a palm flat against Namgyu’s back and held him there as laughter finally bubbled up from deep inside.
“Ohhh,” he whispered into Namgyu’s ear, voice thick with glee and something darker beneath it - "So you see them to?
Then he grinned - the kind that splits your soul clean open - and added:
“Told you it wasn't just any high.”
Su-bong spun Namgyu around until they were facing each other. His smile had twisted to something feral, almost manic, like the drugs had ripped open whatever mask he wore.
"The shadows," he said, eyes glittering in the harsh bathroom light. "They're everywhere. You think you see people, but it's just your brain trying to make sense of a world that doesn't make sense." He pushed Namgyu back against the wall, pinning him there with barely any effort. Namgyu stumbled, suddenly off-balance. He could feel every point of contact between them with startling clarity: Su-bong's knee between his thighs, Su-bong's hip bones like knives against his stomach. Even their breaths sounded loud in the small space, short and ragged.
"That- " Namgyu swallowed hard, trying to ignore how his body reacted to all that closeness-"that's not possible. I'm not-I'm not hallucinating-"
But the moment Su-bong smirked, lips curling like he already knew the truth - Namgyu felt it again. Not just warmth this time. A pulse. Deep in his gut, like something alive turning over beneath his skin.
"Y-you're messing with me," he whispered, voice cracking. "This isn’t real—"
“Ohhh, but it is,” Su-bong cooed, leaning in so close their noses brushed. “And your heart knows it.” His hand slid down Namgyu’s chest, slow and deliberate. “Feels kinda… teenage, doesn’t it?”
Namgyu let out a breathy laugh - high-pitched, nervous - and immediately wanted to take it back.
“Shut up… we’re not kids…”
“No?” Su-bong arched a brow, thumb flicking over one of Namgyu’s nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. “Then why are you trembling like you’ve never been touched before? Huh? Why does your face turn pink when I call you baby?”
“I-I don’t!” Namgyu gasped - but the protest died when Su-bong pressed harder between his legs with his knee.
“You do,” he whispered triumphantly. “You're all fluttery nerves and dirty little secrets... just like back at that club you work at."
“I am not!” The words came out whiny now - an actual pout forming on Namgyu’s lips as heat bloomed across them both from fever and something else entirely. Su-bong burst into giggles: sharp, giddy things bouncing off tile walls like they were alone at a sleepover instead of two death-row players coked-up on supernatural pills.
“We should be scared,” Namgya breathed suddenly - the laughter dying fast as reality tugged at him again, "we should be terrified…"
Su-bong tilted his head slowly until their foreheads touched.
“Baby,” he murmured darkly sweet, "fear's already inside us."
"...Now let's play anyway."
The bathroom was too small. Too quiet. Too full of the kind of silence that made your thoughts echo louder than they should.
Namgyu pressed his back against the cold tile, his breath coming in uneven bursts. The way Su-bong was looking at him - like he was a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit, but he was still trying to solve it - made his chest tighten. It was worse than the club. Worse than the pills. Worse than the way he sometimes caught himself staring at Su-bong when he thought no one was watching.
“You’re not scared,” Su-bong said, voice low, like he was talking to a child or a ghost. “You’re just… pretending.”
Namgyu opened his mouth to argue, but the words died on his tongue. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wasn’t scared. He was… curious. Like he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time, even if he didn’t know why.
“I’m not,” he whispered, but it sounded like a lie. It felt like a lie.
Su-bong tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Liar.”
And then he moved.
Not fast, not aggressive. Just… there. His hand on Namgyu’s chest, fingers splayed over the thin fabric of his sweater. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver through him. A pulse. A hum. Like the world had shifted, and he was suddenly standing on the edge of something huge and terrifying and beautiful all at once.
“You’re trembling,” Su-bong said, his voice a soft tease. “Like you’re scared, but you’re not. Like you want it, but you’re too much of a coward to say it.”
“I’m not a coward,” Namgyu snapped, but the words came out too high, too shaky. His face burned. He hated it. Hated how he couldn’t control it. How Su-bong always knew.
“You are,” Su-bong said, and there was no cruelty in it. Just… truth. “You’re a brat, a coward, and a little shit. But you’re also… something else. Something I don’t understand.”
Namgyu swallowed hard. “What?”
Su-bong didn’t answer. He just leaned in, so close their breaths tangled together. His lips brushed the edge of Namgyu’s jaw, and for a second, the world stopped. And then he pulled back, just enough to look at him. “You think I don’t feel it too?” he asked, voice quieter now. “The… thing between us? The way it’s always been there, even when we pretend it isn’t?”
Namgyu didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say anything. Because if he did, if he admitted it, it would be real. And real things hurt. But Su-bong wasn’t waiting for an answer. He kissed him. Slow. Sweet. Like it was the first time and the last time all at once. Namgyu didn't pull away.
The air in the bathroom was thick enough to drown in. It was a cocktail of cheap soap, the metallic tang of fear still clinging to their skin from the the lingering knowledge anyone could come in, and the sharp, chemical scent of whatever the hell was in that pill. Namgyu’s back was pressed flush against the cold tile, a stark, grounding contrast to the fire coursing through his veins. He was trembling, but it wasn't from fear anymore. It was from anticipation. From the sheer, undeniable proximity of Su-bong’s body. He’d been kissed before. Fumbled, drunken kisses in the sticky back rooms of Club Pentagon, desperate and fleeting. This was nothing like that. This was a slow, deliberate claim. Su-bong’s lips were soft but insistent against his, tasting faintly of the artificial fruitiness of the pill and something uniquely him. It was a kiss that said, I see you. All of you. Namgyu’s brain short-circuited. His hands, which had been braced against Su-bong’s chest to push him away, now fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. He needed more. He needed to be consumed. A soft, needy sound escaped his throat, and he felt Su-bong smile against his mouth.
“Told you,” Su-bong murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips brushing Namgyu’s with every word. “You feel it too.”
Namgyu could only nod, his eyes screwed shut. He was too lost in the sensation to form words. The drug was amplifying everything, turning the simple press of their bodies into a symphony of feeling. Every point of contact was electric. Su-bong’s knee, still wedged between his thighs, was a constant, maddening pressure against his cunt. He could feel himself getting wet, a slick heat soaking through the thin cotton of his boxers, and a fresh wave of shame washed over him, hot and swift.
But Su-bong just seemed to sense it. He shifted his leg, rubbing it in a slow, deliberate circle that made Namgyu’s hips jerk forward involuntarily. “Oh, there it is,” Su-bong breathed, his voice a low, triumphant purr. “That’s the spot, isn’t it, my Nam-su?”
“Its gyu!” Namgyu gasped, but it was a pathetic, breathless protest. His head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, exposing the long line of his throat.
Su-bong took the invitation without hesitation, ducking his head to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck. His teeth scraped over the sensitive skin, and Namgyu whimpered, his grip tightening in Su-bong’s shirt until his knuckles were white. He could feel the ghost of his high school coach, the memory of desperate teenage fantasies, but this was real. This was happening now, and it was a thousand times more intense.
“Let’s see how much of a pretty boy you really are,” Su-bong rasped against his skin. With one hand still pinning Namgyu’s hip to the wall, his other hand snaked down, past the waistband of Namgyu’s track pants. His fingers were warm, a stark contrast to the cold air that rushed in when the elastic was pulled away from his skin. Namgyu held his breath. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and so turned on he thought he might actually die from it. He expected Su-bong to hesitate, to ask, to do something that would break the spell. But Su-bong didn’t. He was all confidence and drug-fueled certainty. His fingers slid lower, past the damp fabric of his boxers, and then they were there. Touching him. A single, calloused fingertip brushed over his clit, and Namgyu’s entire body seized. A choked-off cry escaped his lips.
“Fuck,” Su-bong breathed, his voice filled with awe. “You’re soaked.” He didn’t wait for a response. He began to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves with a practiced, maddening rhythm. “So this is what you’re hiding under all that attitude.”
Namgyu couldn’t answer. He could only rock his hips into the touch, chasing the friction. The world narrowed to this: the cold wall at his back, Su-bong’s solid body in front of him, and the devastating pleasure building between his legs. It was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.
“Su-bong,” he whimpered, the name falling from his lips like a prayer. “Please…”
“Please what, baby?” Su-bong teased, but his voice was strained too. He was affected by this, by the way Namgyu was falling apart in his hands. He shifted, pressing the hard line of his own cock against Namgyu’s hip, a silent promise of what was to come. “Tell me what you want.” Namgyu squeezed his eyes shut, a tear of pure sensation leaking from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t be that vulnerable. But his body betrayed him, his legs spreading wider, silently begging for more.
Su-bong chuckled, a low, dark sound. “That’s what I thought.” He slipped one finger inside him, then a second, the slick drag of them making Namgyu’s head spin. He curled them just so, and the pleasure spiked, sharp and blinding. Namgyu cried out, loud and unrestrained in the small, tiled room.
“Shhh,” Su-bong soothed, his thumb returning to rub circles over his clit. “Don’t want the whole dorm to hear what a mess you’re making for me, do you?”
The thought was humiliating and thrilling all at once. Namgyu bit down hard on his lip, trying to muffle the sounds as Su-bong began to fuck him with his fingers in earnest. It was relentless, a perfect, punishing rhythm that pushed him higher and higher until he was dangling on the edge.
“Look at me,” Su-bong commanded, his voice rough.
Namgyu forced his eyes open. Su-bong’s face was inches from his, his pupils blown wide with lust and the high, his lips parted. He looked predatory, beautiful, and completely, utterly focused on Namgyu.
“Come on,” Su-bong urged, his thumb pressing harder. “Let go for me, Nam-su. Let me see you.”
The use of that nickname, usually so annoying, was the final straw. It was a key turning in a lock he didn't know he had. The coil of heat in his gut snapped, and his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave. His back arched off the wall, a silent scream tearing from his throat as his cunt clenched and pulsed around Su-bong’s fingers. Waves of pleasure washed over him, so intense they were almost painful, leaving him boneless and shaking. For a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Su-bong slowly withdrew his fingers, and Namgyu shuddered at the loss. He watched, dazed, as Su-bong brought his hand to his own mouth, his eyes locked on Namgyu’s as he licked his fingers clean.
“Heaven,” Su-bong echoed Namgyu’s earlier words, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. He leaned in, kissing Namgyu deeply, letting him taste himself on his tongue. “Told you it’d be fun.”
The world was still spinning, a slow, hazy carousel of white tile and fluorescent light. Namgyu’s limbs felt like lead, heavy and useless. He was slumped against Su-bong, his head resting on the rapper’s shoulder, trying to remember how to breathe. The aftershocks of his orgasm were still fizzing under his skin, a pleasant, numbing hum that was a welcome distraction from the gnawing anxiety of the games. Su-bong was still hard. Namgyu could feel it, an insistent, demanding pressure against his hip through the layers of their clothes. Su-bong hadn't asked for anything, hadn't pushed for his own release. He’d just held Namgyu through the tremors, his hand resting possessively on the small of his back, a silent, steady presence. It was… unexpectedly gentle. And it made something twist in Namgyu’s chest, something that felt dangerously close to gratitude.
He lifted his head, his neck aching at the angle. He looked at Su-bong, at the blown-out pupils and the lazy, self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. The pill was still thrumming between them, a third party in this encounter, lowering inhibitions and amplifying every touch, every glance. Namgyu knew he should feel used, or dirty, or at the very least, embarrassed. But all he felt was a desperate, clawing need to return the favor. To even the score. To put his mouth on the man who had just systematically taken him apart.
His gaze dropped from Su-bong’s eyes to his lips, then further down, to the conspicuous bulge straining against the fabric of his track pants. The thought was terrifying and electrifying all at once. He’d fantasized about this, about being on his knees for some faceless, hot guy, but the reality - this reality, with Su-bong, in this bathroom - was something else entirely.
He swallowed, his throat dry. “Hyung,” he whispered, the word feeling strange and intimate on his tongue.
Su-bong hummed in response, tilting his head down to look at him. “Yeah, baby?”
Namgyu’s face flushed, but the drug gave him a sliver of courage he wouldn’t normally possess. He pushed himself up slightly, his hands still braced on Su-bong’s shoulders. “Let me…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat. He couldn’t say it. Not outright. Instead, he let his actions speak for him, sliding one hand down Su-bong’s chest, his fingers tracing the line of his sternum until they reached the waistband of his pants.
He paused, his fingertips dipping just beneath the elastic, a silent question.
Su-bong’s breath hitched. The smirk on his face faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by something raw and hungry. He watched Namgyu’s hand with an intensity that made his skin prickle. “You sure about that, Nam-su?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t want you getting scared on me now.”
The challenge, the condescending nickname, was all the fuel Namgyu needed. “Shut up,” he shot back, but there was no real venom in it. His voice was shaky, laced with a desperate sort of need. He sank to his knees on the cold, hard tile, the jolt of it clearing his head just enough to focus on his task. He looked up at Su-bong from under his lashes, a position that felt both humiliating and powerful. Su-bong stared down at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a slow, predatory grin spread across his face. He reached down and hooked his thumbs into his waistband, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock.
It was… a lot. He was bigger than Namgyu had fantasized about, thick and heavy, curving slightly upwards from a thatch of dark hair, dyed purple but black roots showing from neglect. The tip was flushed and already beading with pre-come. The sight sent a fresh jolt of arousal through Namgyu’s spent body.
He leaned forward, his hands resting on Su-bong’s thighs for balance. He hesitated for only a second before he stuck out his tongue, licking a broad, tentative stripe from the base to the tip. The salty, musky taste of him exploded on Namgyu’s tongue, and he moaned, a low, guttural sound of pure want.
“Fuck,” Su-bong breathed, his hand coming up to tangle in Namgyu’s hair, his grip firm but not painful. “Just like that, baby. Show me how much you want it.”
Emboldened, Namgyu wrapped his lips around the head, sucking gently. He’d never done this before, but instinct and the drug-fueled haze guided him. He swirled his tongue around the slit, lapping up the pre-come, loving the way Su-bong’s hips jerked forward in response. He took him deeper, inch by inch, until the head hit the back of his throat and he had to fight the urge to gag. He looked up. Su-bong was watching him, his head thrown back, his mouth slightly open, his expression one of pure, unadulterated bliss. The sight of it, the knowledge that he was the one causing it, made Namgyu’s own cock twitch with renewed interest. He began to move, finding a rhythm, bobbing his head and using his hand to stroke what he couldn’t fit in his mouth.
The sounds were obscene in the quiet of the bathroom - the wet, slick sounds of his mouth, Su-bong’s ragged breathing, the soft thud of his own back hitting the wall as he thrust shallowly into Namgyu’s mouth. He didn;t know what time it was or how long they'd been in here. He didn't really care right now.
“Look so good like this,” Su-bong panted, his fingers tightening in Namgyu’s hair. “On your knees for me. Fucking perfect.” His praise was like gasoline on a fire, making Namgyu work harder, take him deeper, until tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes from the effort.
He could feel Su-bong getting close, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his grip on Namgyu’s hair almost painful. “Gonna come,” Su-bong warned, his voice strained. “Namgyu-”
Namgyu didn’t pull away. He just hollowed his cheeks and sucked, hard. With a guttural groan, Su-bong came, his hips stuttering as he spilled down Namgyu’s throat. Namgyu did his best to swallow, the bitter, salty taste flooding his senses. He kept sucking gently through the aftershocks, milking him dry, until Su-bong was pulling him off with a soft hiss of oversensitivity.
Namgyu stayed on his knees for a moment, dazed, his lips swollen and his throat raw. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his heart hammering against his ribs. Su-bong reached down, hooking his hands under Namgyu’s arms and hauling him to his feet. He stumbled, his legs unsteady, and ended up pressed against Su-bong’s chest. Su-bong tilted his chin up, his eyes searching Namgyu’s face.
“You’re a fucking disaster, you know that?” Su-bong murmured, but his tone was weirdly soft. He leaned in and kissed him, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of sex and him and the lingering sweetness of the pill. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but of something else. A quiet, terrifying acknowledgment.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against Namgyu’s. “Welcome to Thanos World, for real this time.”