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“Ah—” Kyungmin makes a startled little noise, flinching.
“Why?” Dohoon asks. He’s not even that much in Kyungmin’s space. Not more than he usually is—usually can be—anyways. He’s just pressing their cheeks together. It’s not much of anything.
“Hyung,” Kyungmin says, a little irritated, a little fond. He’s looking, now, trying to meet Dohoon’s eyes, but they’re so close together that his eyes cross.
“Aigoo,” Dohoon croons. “Cute little Kyungmai.”
He says it like it’s baby talk, like a kind of teasing platitude thrown around between the five of them when Kyungmin does something stupid. But it’s true—he is cute. His round eyes. His pouty mouth. Right now, his eyebrows are scrunched together in the middle of his forehead in annoyance, eyes narrowed as he stares back at Dohoon.
They’re on the couch in the living room. Dohoon had texted their group chat earlier that evening asking if anyone wanted to watch a movie with him. He knew Hanjin had plans to sleep off a headache, that Youngjae and Jihoon had plans to go out, and that Junghwan had some schedule to be at. That left Kyungmin, who left him on read.
But being ignored has never really stopped Dohoon; it never does much to stop Dohoon from anything, really—not when he really wants something. So he poked and prodded at Kyungmin all afternoon until he finally relented, and then they curled up on the couch and hit play.
It’s not a very good movie. Dohoon is no longer sure why he picked it in the first place. A zip of impulse while scrolling on TikTok. A well-timed ad.
He’d gotten bored of it quickly—the acting was kind of tacky, depthless writing that was trying too hard. But Kyungmin’s eyes were glued to the screen, and then Dohoon’s eyes were glued to Kyungmin, watching his reactions to, well, everything. Small remarks about how stupid the male lead is, how cute the dog was, how “Hyung, doesn’t that guy kind of act like Junghwan-hyung?” Ordinary things like that.
And sometimes, when Dohoon is bored, when he wants to feel normal and solid again, he’ll crowd into someone else’s space—whoever will indulge him—until his hands are his hands and his legs are his legs again.
Watching this movie—or, trying to, at least—had rendered him slipping away, a thousand frantic thoughts per second about dance angles, balanced airflow, MC scripts. Where to put his hands, where to look, how to angle his head.
So maybe he did it on purpose. Kyungmin’s not his first choice, not usually one to entertain him, not even the source of a more interesting reaction. But Jihoon is gone and Youngjae is with him and Hanjin is sleeping and Kyungmin is on the couch next to him not paying him any attention, so—
Two arms around Kyungmin’s shoulders. The crown of Dohoon’s head, straight into the curve of his neck. Dohoon’s cheek pressed against Kyungmin’s. A mild flinch, a not so exciting reaction; his round eyes, his pouty mouth.
The gears turn in Dohoon’s head, slipping past each other, metal sparking against metal.
“Has our Kyungminie ever kissed anyone before?” Yeah. That’ll do it.
“What?” Kyungmin asks, shocked. “What are you talking about?”
Dohoon huffs, sitting back a bit to look at him—properly, this time. “You know—have you ever kissed anyone before?”
Kyungmin blinks back slowly, his gentle face relaxing. The movie plays on in the background. “Why,” he says. “Have you?”
Dohoon knows Kyungmin is deflecting, but he’ll play along, if that's what it takes. “I have,” Dohoon answers, closing his eyes, only a little smug. “A couple of girls, when I was in high school. Youngjae was my first boy. I’ve kissed Jihoonie before too.” He opens one eye to check for Kyungmin’s reaction. Nothing.
Kyungmin scoffs. “I’m not surprised.”
“So what about you?”
“I’ve kissed Youngjae-hyung too, before,” Kyungmin says. “Not Jihoonie-hyung, though.” He considers it for a moment. “I'm not sure if I want to.”
Dohoon is caught between laughing at the notion of the latter and picturing the former: Youngjae’s warm palm cupped against Kyungmin’s cheek, easing Kyungmin's mouth open.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Dohoon asks, feeling only a little bit wanting.
“You mean Youngjae-hyung?” Kyungmin says.
Dohoon nods, leaning back into Kyungmin’s space to peer at his face. “Yeah, Youngjae. He’s good—he’s a good kisser. It’s different from kissing Jihoon though. Less frantic.”
Kyungmin thinks for a moment, grimacing as he says, “Yeah, he’s good. I think. I don’t really know otherwise. I’ve never kissed anyone else.”
At this, Dohoon’s eyes go wide. He’s not exactly surprised, but he’s feeling something—astonishment, maybe, that Kyungmin’s first and only kiss was Choi Youngjae.
Dohoon hums, bracing his hand on the couch next to Kyungmin’s thigh. “What about me?”
Silence. It’s so quiet Dohoon can hear the hum of their refrigerator all the way from where they’re seated in the living room. In the movie, on TV, it’s raining.
He tries again. “What about me, Kyungmin-ah?”
Kyungmin leans back so he can look at Dohoon—properly. They’re still close enough that Dohoon can feel Kyungmin’s warm breath against the tip of his nose. “I’ve never kissed you before, hyung.”
Dohoon blinks back. He studies Kyungmin’s face: his round eyes and his pouty mouth. “You could kiss me now,” he says. “I could kiss you.”
The hum of the fridge. The movie drones on: the dog barks, the female lead asks a question about wanting something.
“Sure,” Kyungmin answers. “Sure.”
And then they are.
Dohoon’s not sure who leans forward first, but they meet in the middle; Kyungmin’s plush lips against his own are just as soft as he would have expected them to be. Dohoon shifts forward. Their knees bump against each other.
Dohoon cups a hand against Kyungmin’s cheek. It’s better this way—Kyungmin is caged in by Dohoon’s arms, more pliant than Dohoon thought he’d be. Dohoon opens his mouth and Kyungmin follows his lead, moving his lips against Dohoon’s clumsily. It’s obvious he hasn’t done this much—there’s an awkward rhythm to the movement of his mouth against Dohoon’s—but it’s still nice. Kissing Kyungmin is nice.
It’s so nice that Dohoon slips his tongue into Kyungmin’s mouth, past his lips, licking against the line of Kyungmin’s bottom teeth. He gets a soft whine in response—that too, is nice—before Kyungmin takes the tip of Dohoon's tongue lightly between his teeth and sucks.
Dohoon shivers. It's all nice. The noise in his head quiets; all he feels is the wet press of Kyungmin’s open mouth against his, the slow lick of Kyungmin’s tongue against his own and into his mouth.
Kyungmin lets out a little sound from the back of his throat as Dohoon eases his mouth open more with the hand he has on his jaw. He swears he can feel it reverberate through his own skull. Dohoon reaches behind him into the couch cushions for the remote, blindly mashing buttons until the movie stops playing; he wants to hear all the noises Kyungmin is making, the sounds of their lips moving against each other. It’s good. This is good.
It could be better. Dohoon pulls away, for real this time, their lips smacking apart softly. The position they’re sitting in—side by side on the couch—is kind of awkward. Dohoon has been leaning so far over Kyungmin that he’d might as well—he gets up to swing a leg over Kyungmin’s thighs until he’s seated in his lap. That’s better.
Kyungmin’s steady hands wrap around Dohoon’s waist, holding him firmly in place. Dohoon reaches down and takes Kyungmin’s gentle face between his hands. Even like this he’s still cute. His downturned eyes, his slightly open mouth. The pink of his wet tongue resting against his bottom lip. Dohoon leans back down to capture his lips in another kiss, quickly licking back into his mouth as Kyungmin presses his face up, mouth open against his. The sound of it seems to echo through the whole living room.
Kissing Kyungmin is nothing like kissing Jihoon; it’s nothing like kissing Youngjae either. Jihoon gets desperate so fast—chasing, moving, licking, biting—and Youngjae kisses Dohoon with a calm steadiness that gets Dohoon feeling desperate.
Kyungmin is a cute in-between: not so frantic that it leaves Dohoon gasping, but also not steady like Youngjae is. Dohoon’s still in charge; he still has the lead. But he wants something more—a reaction, a sound, some movement.
Dohoon pulls away—he has something to say; had something to say to Kyungmin—but Kyungmin is leaning up, chasing him, gaze low and fixed on Dohoon’s mouth.
Kyungmin’s mouth looks pink and wet and almost kiss-bruised. Whatever Dohoon was trying to say probably wasn't that important anyway—at least, not as important as this—so Dohoon leans back in. Kyungmin isn’t frantic like Jihoon, but they’re getting there. The way he licks his soft tongue inside of Dohoon’s mouth and nips at Dohoon’s lips—and the sound, the sound—makes it filthier.
Distantly he hears the front door beep, the whir of the lock opening. The rustle of bags, shoes being removed, one after another. Shuffling footsteps. It can’t be Jihoon and Youngjae; they’d only been gone an hour, so—
A loud clang. Dohoon doesn’t need to check to know who it is.
“Dude,” Junghwan says, voice tight. “Is that appropriate?”
Dohoon pulls away and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, the edge of his sleeve. What a fucking reaction. He thinks it can’t be that insane, what with Junghwan’s probably seen in their dorm over the past three years. Dohoon and Jihoon. Dohoon and Jihoon and Youngjae. Maybe even Youngjae and Jihoon.
Okay, fine—it's compromising. It's a compromising position to be in. He imagines Junghwan's point of view for a moment: you come home from a long day of work, only to find two of your coworkers—only one of whom you have a terrible blazing crush on—making out on the living room couch. Dohoon supposes he’d react similarly. Maybe.
“I dunno,” Dohoon says, trying to keep his voice steady, sliding off of Kyungmin’s lap and back onto the couch. It’s hard not to laugh. He blinks at Junghwan. “Is groping him on Weverse live every other week appropriate?”
Kyungmin laughs, pink-cheeked.
Junghwan’s eyes narrow. “I do not grope him on Weverse live.” He turns to Kyungmin. “Kyungmin-ah, hyung isn’t groping you, I just—”
“Sure, hyung,” Kyungmin says. He’s still looking at Dohoon’s lips, and Dohoon wants to lean in and—
“Seriously.” Junghwan pulls Dohoon away from Kyungmin by the nape of his neck. “Stop that.”
“Why,” Kyungmin whines. His bottom lip is jutting out. It's shiny with spit. Dohoon’s not the only one looking.
When Junghwan speaks, he’s speaking at Kyungmin’s wet mouth, not his eyes.
“What is he doing to you?” Junghwan asks, fingers pinching, hard, into the back of Dohoon’s neck.
Recently, in a hotel room in China, tipsy off of cheap beer, Dohoon had gotten handsy with Youngjae while kissing him lazily in his and Jihoon’s shared hotel room—Dohoon had slipped his fingers beneath Youngjae’s shirt, grazing at the firm planes of his stomach as he bit at his bottom lip.
Youngjae pulled away, an evil glimmer in his eyes as he’d scolded him: “Bad dog.” Jihoon had just laughed, and then he’d leaned in to kiss Dohoon instead.
Junghwan’s hand gripping at the back of his neck reminds him of that: Bad dog. Jihoon’s laugh. Youngjae’s satisfied smile as he watched them make out in front of him.
“Nothing,” Dohoon scoffs, half out of discomfort. Junghwan’s fingers are really digging into him. “We’re just kissing. It’s fun. Not that you would know anything about that.”
Junghwan looks down at him. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “About what. About kissing?”
“I meant fun,” Dohoon shoots back, “but whatever suits you, I guess.” Junghwan’s fingers squeeze tighter. “Can you let go of me?”
Jungwhan ignores him. “Kyungmin-ah, don’t let him take advantage of you like this.” Finally he releases Dohoon, reaching forward to stroke Kyungmin’s hair, tuck a lock of it behind his ear, pat the back of his head. Dohoon looks on, rolling his eyes. But there’s something in Kyungmin’s expression—a spark; gears turning.
“Why,” Kyungmin says slowly, blinking slowly. His pretty pink mouth. “Are you jealous?”
Oh. Now it’s getting good.
Junghwan’s hand stills where it’s resting against the back of Kyungmin’s head. “What?” Dohoon doesn’t miss the red of his ears, the way there's a flush blooming along the back of his neck.
Kyungmin gets up on his knees on the couch. Like this, he’s almost the same height as Junghwan standing in front of him. Dohoon fights down a squeal-squeak trying to escape the back of his throat. This might be better than anything from the trashy reality dating shows he's watched. It's definitely better than the movie they were watching.
“Does hyung want to kiss me?” Kyungmin asks, wrapping his arms around Junghwan’s neck. Junghwan flinches visibly, and then freezes. A perceived threat, an overwhelming sensation. Dohoon watches with glee. He’s so glad he paused the stupid movie.
Junghwan doesn’t say anything, just stands there lamely. Dohoon wants to say something—is about to—but Kyungmin beats him to the punch, saying—
“I want to kiss you, hyung.”
Silence. Dohoon’s pretty sure Junghwan’s stopped breathing. Kyungmin’s gaze shifts to the side, locking in on Dohoon. The whole world stops for a brief moment, Dohoon caught in the periphery, everything slowing to a freeze.
And then, Junghwan moves. Moves, moves, like: he gets both hands on Kyungmin’s waist, pushing him back down onto the couch, sitting down himself—next to Dohoon, in between them—and Junghwan is leaning in. Closer, closer—and Dohoon gets to watch.
Kyungmin’s hands come up to rest on Junghwan’s shoulders, his eyelids fluttering closed as their lips make contact. It looks like a soft little chaste thing. It’s progress.
But then Kyungmin's eyes are open again. He’s making eye contact with Dohoon over Junghwan’s shoulder, and Dohoon can hear it—the way he kisses back, deepens it, opens his mouth. The way he must slip his tongue into Junghwan’s mouth, like he was doing against Dohoon’s just a few minutes earlier.
And then Kyungmin’s eyes slip closed again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, arms wrapping tight around Junghwan’s neck. And Junghwan’s obviously kissing back. Dohoon shifts, peering past Junghwan’s shoulders for a better view.
He looks—he looks like he’s doing fine, actually—better than Dohoon would have expected, with all the weird chaste energy he’s always carrying around. Always acting embarrassed for Kyungmin, not realizing the way he touches him on camera, the way he reaches for him, hands grasping.
But he’s doing fine—Junghwan’s mouth, open and moving against Kyungmin’s. His big hands wrapped around Kyungmin's little waist. The occasional flash of their tongues. Kyungmin’s making those wanting noises again, stifled in the back of his throat.
Dohoon’s watching with a sick sort of fascination. It’s kind of gross. In a hot way. In a hot-gross way. He can’t believe this was the guy he was scared of seven years ago.
“Alright, bye,” Dohoon says. Stay any longer and he’ll actually be a pervert.
“Wait,” Kyungmin says, breathless. “Where are you going?” Junghwan’s mouth is on his jaw now. He’s leaning forward, pushing Kyungmin back until he's almost lying down along the length of the couch; Kyungmin is disappearing from view behind—beneath?—Junghwan’s broad back.
Dohoon shrugs, pushing himself off the couch. “You two don’t need me anymore. You’re good. Have fun!”
He retreats to Hanjin’s room, still not quite ready to be alone. Dohoon climbs into Hanjin's bed next to where he’s curled up asleep, and props his head up on one of the big fluffy pillows as he opens YouTube.
Not even thirty minutes pass before he hears a loud shriek from the living room, the horrified tone of Jihoon’s voice as he screams, “What are you doing to him?”