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Woonhak laid on his warm hotel bed, face buried into the pillowy whiteness. He breathed hot and heavy into the sheets, exhaustion reeking from his form, along with the day’s remnant adrenaline. Beside him, Sungho scrolled through his phone, blonde hair splayed beautifully against the contrasting sheets. Tilting his head to the side slightly, Woonhak moved his face towards him again, so that he was his central view.
After all this time, years of being with him, Woonhak wondered if he would ever be able to be normal about this. How close they ended up at times, how close they could be, how gorgeous Sungho was. How overwhelming his feelings were, brewing and brimming in his insides, turning to goo, crawling up his throat and threatening to spill out and stain the clean mattress they laid over. He absently put an agitated palm to his chest, shutting his lips in fear of throwing up the swarm of sensations his hyung makes him feel.
Ultimately, his heart would drop, an uncomfortable feeling he stubbornly refused to name swimming in his chest, blocking his airways and leading him to sigh. It means nothing, because he can’t be lucky enough to have his hyung to himself. He doesn’t belong to him, and wouldn’t ever, perhaps—which is perhaps a lame excuse for inaction, but justified in his head as it secures the bond they have, at least, which he never could bear to lose.
On a numbing nights like these, though, Woonhak caught himself being selfish. He shifted closer, wishing dumbly he wasn't as obvious as day to the older. Dropping his nose into the mattress, he inhaled heavily, taking in the overlapped scent of lavender around him and citrus from Sungho. Like always, his body naturally inclined towards the familiar citrus, seeking out to his hyung emanating warmth. He wiggled to him mindlessly, till his face illuminated by the phone’s light was surprisingly close to his own.
“Hyung,” He muttered absently, catching the glint of his eye reflecting the light from his phone. Sungho was so pretty. More than a familiar observation, it was a revelation. It had been considerably long since they had first met, since he had first seen his raw beauty, so it made sense for Woonhak to be used to it, to be used to him. But he wasn’t. Every time he saw him, it was a breath of fresh air. The glimmer of life in his eyes, the soft glide of apple cheeks to his jaw, the gentle protrude of his cheekbones, tuberosesoft lips. More often than not, he found himself tracing and counting the beauty marks of his face, fisting the desire to place his own lips upon them and watch them bloom a beautiful scarlet forcibly into his hands and pushing it away to the back of his head where his wishfulness couldn’t reach, because he couldn’t, he could never.
But sometimes, the thought treacherously climbed over his defenses, stupid excuses and all rational, to ascend to his brain’s forefront, downward to his eager hands, to his hopeful heart, on nights like this.
“Woonhak-ah?” Sungho’s confused voice brought him back to the moment, and their eyes met again, sable browns against a stark obsidian. Each passing moment made him hyperaware of their proximity, how it spelled intimacy—his fingers scratching into a rhythm on the mattress, Sungho’s own loosening around the phone by fleeting seconds, the splotch of warmth creeping up his own neck at every miniscule detail.
“Hyung,” He repeated, tongue pushing saliva back into his throat in order to brace himself, for exactly what he didn’t know. Against the fluster of his own racing heart, he inched closer, the air between them turning to vacuum, sucking away the small of the gasp exiting Sungho’s mouth, which was redder now, damp due to constant biting. His hold around his phone loosened, the device discarded somewhere away from them, and the small bubble that Woonhak had accidentally created.
His mind was running in dotted circles, comically like the trajectory of a bee. His gaze zeroed down to Sungho—pacing deep brown orbs evidently in confusion, pale cheeks botched with a hint of crimson, teeth catching on his cheek’s inside in anxiety.
He’s nervous—because of me?
The plausibility made his heart thud harder in his chest, if that even was biologically possible. His eyes roamed over Sungho’s face, while his hyung was frozen in fluster and stupor. He inched closer, in spite of himself, without even knowing where he was going. Growing aware of his legs dangling off the bed, he wriggled up until he was face level with his hyung, their faces a finger's length away.
“Hyung,” He repeated dumbly for the nth time, and caught the slight scoff Sungho almost let out, the slight flash of amusement in his eyes at his actions. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, knowing they both probably—definitely weren’t ready for what his lips might give way to the next second. But his hyung’s warmth, the softness of his form against himself even though they were barely touching, the gentleness crossing over and erasing away the pensiveness in his eyes made him dizzy.
Sungho made him astonishingly dizzy, and he was overriding on the feeling. He was losing any remnant of coherence in him, and reaching out to it like a starved man.
“I want to kiss you.” It rolled off his tongue before he even knew, eyes growing dazed and heat collecting around his head. Sungho gasped, brown eyes hollowing into dark at the statement, blood rushing into his cheeks. His reaction knocked the airways out of Woonhak’s lungs, and as coherence filled in, as he scrambled to find a stupid, shallow apology for his idiocy—
Sungho shifted, barely a centimetre, but to his vision drowned in want and strife, a stark motion. His heart lunged at the action, setting off into a maddeningly paced rhythm, as his eyes sought his hyung’s. His gaze was running away from Woonhak, an uncharacteristic shyness to it that filled him completely.
“Can I?” He verbalised the question that had been latent, unsaid until then, voice growing throaty from gulping and sheer disuse now. Bashful brown orbs found his own again, creating swirls of delirium in his insides. Woonhak followed his hyung’s timid movements—how his teeth bit down consciously on his pinkening lips, his fingers fidgety and ragged breathing. How he nodded—timid, barely perceptible and eminently shy.
Without missing a beat, his hands found the apple of his hyung’s cheek as he moved against the rustle of the sheets beneath them, taking Sungho’s breath away in a soft kiss. He tasted his overwhelm on his tongue, the remnants of the takeout japchae from dinner, and his own impatience. The patent tension that had brewed between them over the past months, flailing and flustered motions around each other— all dissolved into mind-numbing heat between intertwined mouths, effectively diffusing the confusion and questions that had plagued Woonhak’s mind.
His tongue hesitantly swept in, carrying away and swallowing the whimper the older let out as he breathed into him. His thumb caressed the supple of his cheek as he leaned into him, pressing closer. Citrus overtook his senses, washing down on him in an undoing rushed moment. Woonhak’s warm breath hit Sungho’s face, grounding him.
A tentative hand snaked up his neck, trailing heavy on the tender skin. The touch was unraveling, and the surprise that hit him with it traveled right back into the kiss, wet tongue hitting the roof of his mouth. The action elicited a throaty whimper out of Sungho. Woonhak idly hummed into him, moving gentle but purposefully in and around his mouth. The pace slowed down eventually, as Woonhak was afraid of scaring his hyung.
The one to break contact was unsurprisingly Sungho. Feeling the vacuum growing in his chest, Woonhak let him, hands falling back to his shoulders. Sungho’s palms rested against his firm chest, eyes utterly blown out and lips slick with the younger’s saliva. The sight gratified him to no limit, and he felt a swell of pride in being the one that did that to his hyung. He involuntarily gulped, thoughts flying out his head at Sungho’s dazed gaze trained on his throat, and how it rushed back to his lips.
“Sungho hyung,” Their sight fell back to each other again, ears reddening by passing moments as the reality of what just happened settled in, fit into coherence seeping slowly through their heads.
“Woonhak-ah,” He echoed, voice raspy from disuse. The younger felt his chest sweep all over again at his tone, vision trembling. “We should—”
“Talk, yeah.” Woonhak finished for him, canines catching on his bottom lip. His hyung’s gaze was piercing—it was a predicament he hadn’t thought he’d be exposed to but he was, regardless, but he was dwindling on the spot, struggling. He shook his head, in a hope to dispel thoughts from clouding rationality, but it was hard, considering the way his hyung was looking at him.
Bracing himself, the younger was above to speak again before Sungho pulled him in again with a needy whine, swallowing his groan into it.
His hands flew to his cheeks right after Woonhak pulled back a little from the shock of it, but his hyung’s desperate “Please” made him cave in faster than anything. The second kiss was everything the first one wasn’t—slow, mellow and lingering.
He leaned forward deeper whenever a void was created, actions running on pure instinct. The pliancy of his hyung made his inside curl. The muted sounds of staccatoing breaths and gasps filled the room.
The want, that had been living latent, concealed under Woonhak’s skin sinceforever, escaped violent and swift; it manifested into something so physical that it scared even himself. He shuddered visibly, pulling their bodies flush together. The sudden motion startled Sungho, who in a second of overwhelm broke their contact, feline eyes going dewy in confusion.
A guttural groan escaped Woonhak as he took him in. His hyung, all red and messed up, beyond sense, because of him. Driven by primal desire, he suddenly rose, supporting himself with his arms as he caged Sungho into the mattress, reveling in the way his orbs dilated and his lips fell apart.
“Hyung,” He began, voice growing ragged. He traced the gulp against the milky white of Sungho’s throat, the gather of the slightest bit of perspiration on it despite the blasting aircon.
“If you keep looking at me that way—” He watched as a whimper escaped Sungho, how his eyes fell shut at his words, lips curling. Watched how it stirred even himself, and how Sungho pulled him in again, effectively cutting him off. It drove Woonhak to a maddening edge, seeing it manifest into physicality how Sungho wanted him just as much as he did.
Above the broken murmur of the aircon in their room and settled summer heat between them, the soft sounds of their lips smacking together filled them room. Sighing softly into the kiss, the older delivered a final but lingering suck to Woonhak’s mouth, eliciting a small gasp.
Eyebrows furrowed at the cessation of their contact, Woonhak watched, and Sungho, with eyes still shut, settled quietly in the groove of his neck. A pang of warmth assaulted his senses at the act. The older looked gorgeous—cheeks flushed out, lips damp and fallen apart, mellowing out into small, broken breaths.
“Hyung,” Woonhak tried, feeling the vibrations of his timbre on his own skin, the sticky warmth of Sungho’s cheek that rested below his collarbone. The soft blonde hair brushed his chin lightly, sufficient to elicit funny feelings in him all over again.
The older only hummed into his skin as a response, lips pressing to his chest in a drawn out motion. Woonhak’s pulse stuttered, and Sungho smiled into his skin as response, burying his face into the flesh.
“We should—” He attempted again, the words feeling repetitive and dumb on his tongue. The fear of what they had shared meaning nothing transcended any plausible occurrence of embarrassment, though, and he still realised how his inhibitions almost tumbled out his mouth right then.
Sungho looked up at him, eyes livid and warm. Woonhak gulped, caught in a trance under his arresting gaze. “We will,” He settled back into the expanse of his chest, rubbing against it to generate warmth, skin against skin. The intimacy of the moment spanned, for Woonhak, far more than any they had shared that night, and an involuntary sigh escaped him.
“In the morning. Let’s just sleep for now, hm?” His hands found the slant of Woonhak’s jaw again, planting a soft smooch right to his mouth, and Woonhak watched, bewildered, though his response was almost automated. He pulled him back, just a fraction, not pushing further but holding the contact. In a beat, he let go, and they found themselves in the same position.
The older settled back voicelessly atop of him, hearing his heartbeat ground him, hearing his own synchronize. Woonhak’s hand found the curve of his back, pulling him closer, just enough to feel his emanating body heat.
The knot of doubt in his chest finally undid itself as citrus flooded his senses, slowing down his pacing heart. He pressed a small peck to Sungho’s forehead and fell back against the pillow, knowing whatever the morning brought would be positively what he had spent eternal dark nights chasing.