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“Dude,” Junghwan says, voice tight. “Is that appropriate?”
He’s never leaving Dohoon unattended again. Not if this is what’s going to come of it.
Junghwan’s already had a long day of schedules; filming for his MC gig among extra practice for a special stage had kept him out for longer than everyone else. And he’d started to feel the exhaustion sink in about halfway through the day but still stopped by their favourite raw fish restaurant on his way home to pick up something for himself and Kyungmin to have for dinner. At least, he was hoping to have dinner with him, until he came home to—
He watches Dohoon wipe his mouth on the back of his hand as he slides off Kyungmin’s lap.
“I dunno,” Dohoon says, voice unsteady. Junghwan stares at him as he blinks. “Is groping him on Weverse live every other week appropriate?”
This little—Junghwan should hit him, really. He should smack him upside the head and drag him back to the confines of his room where he can’t be touching on Kyungmin anymore, and then Kyungmin will be safe and they can eat dinner together like Junghwan had originally planned. It’s a good idea. He really should just do it.
Kyungmin laughs from his spot on the couch, pink-cheeked.
Junghwan narrows his eyes. “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.
His words fall on deaf ears, apparently. Sometimes he wonders if any of them actually respect his authority—neither of them are listening to him, in fact, they’re not even looking at him; Dohoon is already leaning back in to—
“Seriously,” Junghwan says, grabbing Dohoon by the back of his neck. Living with him is like living with a dog of some kind—a dog that doesn’t know how to behave. “Stop that.”
Kyungmin pouts up at him. His eyes are pleading and so shiny, just like—just like his glossy pink lips. They look so soft. “Why,” he whines.
Junghwan can’t believe this.
“What is he doing to you,” Junghwan hisses, pinching the back of Dohoon’s neck like it’ll make him learn how to behave. But Junghwan knows how this works; he knows what makes Dohoon tick. A pinching grip isn’t going to stop him from doing anything, especially when he’s—when he’s like this.
“Nothing,” Dohoon scoffs, indignantly. “We’re just kissing. It’s fun. Not that you would know anything about that.”
Junghwan stares down at him. Dohoon has that look in his eyes right now—that look he gets when he’s faced with a challenge he can’t back down from; the look he gets when he starts squabbling with Jihoon, their hands and legs and feet inextricable from each other; the look he gets when Youngjae—
Hold on.
“Know about what. About kissing?” Junghwan asks, raising an unimpressed eyebrow—because it’s not true—Junghwan knows he’s awkward sometimes, knows that he’s shy now and used to be shyer, but when he was in high school he had his fair share of people chasing after him. He can’t believe Dohoon would think that he’s never—
“I meant fun,” Dohoon shoots back, “but whatever suits you, I guess.”
Junghwan squeezes his fingers tighter against the muscle of Dohoon’s neck. Brat.
Dohoon makes a weird whining noise. “Can you let go of me?”
Junghwan ignores him.
“Kyungmin-ah, don’t let him take advantage of you like this.” Junghwan frees his hand from Dohoon’s neck to reach forward and stroke Kyungmin’s hair, to tuck a stray lock of it behind his ear. He looks a little bit disheveled. It’s cute; it’s nothing Junghwan can’t help fix.
Junghwan watches as Kyungmin’s tongue darts out to lick gently at his bottom lip. Junghwan swallows, petting Kyungmin’s head. His cute little round head. His eyes are so shiny—he looks like a lamb; an innocent lamb, being preyed on by wolves—one specific wolf in particular.
“Why,” Kyungmin says slowly, blinking slowly. His pretty pink mouth. “Are you jealous?”
Junghwan’s hand stills where it’s resting against the back of Kyungmin’s head. “What?”
Junghwan’s face goes warm. He’s not—he’s not jealous, he’s just—he’s just protective. If he’s not looking out for Kyungmin, then who will? Obviously not Dohoon.
Kyungmin gets up on his knees on the couch. Junghwan has to lean back slightly to look at him, to look at his little face. Like this, they’re almost eye to eye—they’re so close that Junghwan can feel the puff of his warm breath against his nose.
“Does hyung want to kiss me?” Kyungmin asks as he delicately wraps his arms over Junghwan’s shoulders.
What in the—Junghwan looks down at Kyungmin’s sweet face: his flushed cheeks, his pretty eyes. And—well, if Junghwan’s being honest, he can’t say he’s never thought about it before.
Fine, he’ll admit it: he’s found himself staring at Kyungmin’s pretty face on more than one occasion, and he knows he has a tendency to reach for him, to gravitate toward him, to crowd into his space. Kyungmin is so sweet to him, and Junghwan really does like him so much, but he’s—it’s not—
Distantly, Junghwan registers the sound of Dohoon snickering from the couch. Some strange strangled noise escapes him with it.
And then, before Junghwan has a chance to say or do anything, before he can even properly process the question:
“I want to kiss you, hyung.”
Junghwan flinches, shocked. What?
The world stops spinning on its axis. Junghwan swallows thickly. Not once in his twenty-three years of living has he ever—heat rushes up his face, the back of his neck, his ears.
He’s—Junghwan studies Kyungmin’s face, watches as his gaze slides over, as he looks at Dohoon over Junghwan’s shoulder, and Junghwan’s stomach starts churning and—it hits him. Hard.
He is jealous.
And then, like a slap to the face: He does want to kiss Kyungmin.
It all comes crashing down on him at once: the earth-shattering realization that he wants this, that he’s wanted it for a long long time, maybe even longer than he should’ve—that Kyungmin is in front of him, asking for it, that he wants it too, that—
Junghwan pushes Kyungmin down onto the couch, a muffled gasp escaping him as Junghwan sits himself down next to him, and then he leans in, and—
Kyungmin’s eyes flutter shut as Junghwan kisses him, the ends of his eyelashes skimming Junghwan’s cheekbones. Their lips brush gently against each other; the noise around him melts into nothing as everything dulls down to one singular point—Kyungmin in front of him. Some part of Junghwan—a part he didn’t even know was held so tightly—finally relaxes, like a relieved sigh, so much tension dissipating from his body.
A smaller, duller realization hits him then—is this okay? Does Kyungmin really want it?—as that slowly shrinking corner of his mind, the corner he reserves for being the eldest member, the one in charge, starts swelling up again. Junghwan’s already pulling back to ask when Kyungmin tightens his grip on Junghwan’s shoulders, tugging him back in as he opens his mouth to capture Junghwan’s lips in another kiss—greedier, this time—and Junghwan braces his hands around Kyungmin’s waist. Another corner of his brain, a dim, poorly lit one, lights up at how they almost fit all the way around.
Kyungmin is so—he’s so small and pliant. Junghwan feels guilty, almost—would be feeling guiltier, if it wasn’t for the desperate way Kyungmin is licking into his mouth, chasing his tongue. But this? This is nice. A heady warmth settles in Junghwan’s abdomen as he opens his mouth and kisses Kyungmin back. And Kyungmin kisses him in earnest, slow and open, arms wrapped around his neck. It’s a little clumsy—their noses bump against each other; Kyungmin is so eager—but it’s good. It’s really good.
Junghwan only vaguely registers the couch shift next to him; Dohoon must say or do something, because Kyungmin is pulling away. There’s an irritated, jealous part of Junghwan that flares up because of it, a part of him that can’t stand the fact that Kyungmin’s attention isn’t all on him right now, so Junghwan turns his face to mouth at Kyungmin’s neck and jaw, not missing the way he shivers at the touch.
“Wait,” Kyungmin says, breathless. “Where are you going?”
And Dohoon must say something in response, but it’s not anything that Junghwan cares to pay attention to, really—what’s more important are the little noises Kyungmin’s been making, these desperate sounds that Junghwan wants to drink up, to live in.
Junghwan eases him backwards onto the couch. “Kyungmin-ah,” he asks. “Is this okay? Are you comfortable?”
Kyungmin nods. Junghwan notices the way Kyungmin’s looking at his mouth—he feels warm with how much Kyungmin seems to like this, how much he seems to want this, too. And Junghwan really—he wants Kyungmin to like it. He wants this—whatever this is—to be good for him. Junghwan splays his hand across Kyungmin’s stomach, where his t-shirt is rucked up, pressing his thumb into the sliver of bare skin before leaning back in to kiss him again.
Kissing Kyungmin is unlike kissing anyone he’s ever kissed before—better than all the chaste pecks he’d received from friendly girls in high school, better than the one frantic practice room makeout that one time when he was a trainee, with someone whose name he can’t even remember now. Junghwan’s whole body feels warm at the way Kyungmin’s body arcs up into his touch, the way Kyungmin keeps tugging Junghwan in like he needs him under his skin.
The worst part is, Kyungmin keeps making these sounds, these muffled whines that never escape the back of his throat—sounds that Junghwan isn’t sure he even knows he’s making, each one like a hot punch to his own gut, sounds that get louder and needier with each press of Junghwan’s fingers into his soft stomach, each nip of his teeth against Kyungmin’s lower lip, each light suck on his wet tongue.
Junghwan wonders what he’d sound like if he—he slips his hand beneath Kyungmin’s waistband, pressing firmly against his hipbone, his palm now dangerously close to Kyungmin’s crotch, which earns him a new sound, a sort of punched-out moan that hits him so hard and hot in his own gut, rendering him suddenly very aware of how much Kyungmin actually likes this, how much he likes it himself—so much that he can feel it through Kyungmin’s shorts, through his own sweatpants.
Shit. Junghwan tears himself away from Kyungmin’s mouth, not missing the way Kyungmin leans up, toward him, gaze fixed on his mouth. “Kyungmin-ah,” he says, worry drawing his brow into a scrunch in the middle of his forehead. “I don’t want you to do anything you might—”
Kyungmin cuts him off with a high, needy whine. Another new thing, a sound Junghwan’s not sure he’s ever heard before, despite having known Kyungmin for almost ten years—it’s definitely not a sound he’d heard back when Kyungmin was a bright-eyed, well-mannered child, and it’s certainly not a sound he’d heard from him in all the years leading up to debut. New, all of it, just like the dazed look in his eyes and the bright flush in his cheeks and neck, a pretty pink, like his lips and tongue and maybe even—
“I want it all the time,” Kyungmin whines. “Hyung—can you just—”
Jesus. Junghwan buries his face in Kyungmin’s neck, biting lightly at the delicate skin there. He can’t—he can’t leave anything, or someone will see; they’ll get scolded by their stylists, or worse—Dohoon will laugh at him.
He's not even sure how long they’ve been doing this for, intoxicated on all the needy sounds Kyungmin has been making. At some point, Kyungmin had slipped his hands under the hem of Junghwan’s shirt, too, his warm palms pressed against Junghwan’s back, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his pants, and—
“What are you doing to him?” Jihoon’s horrified shriek echoes through the living room, followed by the sound of Youngjae smacking him.
Shame crashes over Junghwan like an ice-cold wave. Shit. He’d forgotten that Jihoon and Youngjae would be getting home from dinner around this time.
Junghwan looks down at Kyungmin, at his sweet face and the far-away look in his eyes. Junghwan reaches down to wipe away a string of saliva from Kyungmin’s bottom lip, right as Kyungmin slips his tongue out to lap at Junghwan’s thumb.
Junghwan’s face feels hot, a warm flame licking up his spine at the sight of Kyungmin beneath him as he looks and looks at him, as he takes the tip of Junghwan’s thumb into his mouth, and then he’s looking past him, behind him, at—
“We’ll be in Jihoon’s room,” Youngjae says from behind Junghwan. Junghwan can’t see them, but he can hear the sound of him trying to drag Jihoon out of the living room despite his protests, comments about—about Junghwan and Kyungmin and Junghwan-and-Kyungmin flooding out of him, lightning fast.
Whatever. He’ll deal with that later. Right now—right now, Kyungmin is underneath him, all soft and warm, craning his neck up to whisper in Junghwan’s ear.
“Hyung,” Kyungmin says, his breath damp against Junghwan’s ear. It makes him shiver. “Doesn’t that mean your room is empty?”