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Seonghyeon would like to believe he’s a good liar.
He has, after all, gone through most of his life convincing everyone that he’s nothing short of kind, bubbly, and easy. He’s mastered the art of persuasion through the flutter of his eyelashes and a honeyed smile—not too much for it to be nauseating, but just sweet enough to have people wanting more.
The thing is, there’s a certain advantage to being seemingly nice, and that’s an open secret more people should acknowledge. Still, a huge portion of the population has the tendency to tell themselves that all forms of pleasantries should be done sincerely—a notion that Seonghyeon completely abhors. If you played your cards right, the luck of the world might just fall onto your palm. He learns this at the ripe age of six when children are drawn towards things they perceive as good-natured. Decency is something that’s more easily digestible because apparently, being upfront about your desires is deserving of contempt.
So Seonghyeon has learned how to mask any indication of want. He’s learned how to maneuver through life with faux compliance as a shield. He’s learned how to be a good liar to live life like he’s always wanted to.
And yet, it is with great regret that he stirs at dawn, too early even with his usual schedule, to find Keonho wedged between him and the railings of Seonghyeon’s bed, swaddled in Seonghyeon’s blanket, and using Seonghyeon’s pillow as his own.
This wasn’t an unusual sight in any way—Keonho would climb into his bed despite Seonghyeon’s initial protests, glaring down at the maknae with mild annoyance as Keonho stares up at him with a shit-eating grin, and Seonghyeon wonders why he still gives in every single time.
Seonghyeon wouldn’t have minded the welcomed intrusion in his bed space on normal days. But today, in particular, has him gripping at his sheets, back against the cold wall, as the vision of Keonho’s bare torso penetrates the part of Seonghyeon’s brain that he only entertains when he’s alone.
The golden slice of sunlight cutting through the slats of the window provides him with enough illumination to glimpse at the well-defined muscles of Keonho’s abdomen, hidden slightly by the duvet they share.
God, he’s never wanted to discard a blanket this much until today.
He does try to avert his eyes and close them to wash away any inconvenient thoughts with the light bleeding into red stains beneath his eyelids. It’s been a while since they’ve last slept next to each other. They haven’t been doing so considering the back-to-back preparations for their comeback and other idol activities—which meant the maximum hours Seonghyeon slept a night rarely surpassed four hours, and that definitely did not leave much time for them to hold each other to sleep like they used to.
He remembers going to bed hours ago by himself, and he definitely remembers Keonho going to his own bed with a shirt on.
But a lot of things can happen in between sleep and wakefulness, and that includes Keonho stealing his bed space, discarding his shirt in the middle of the night, and disturbing Seonghyeon’s peace of mind first thing in the morning with a partial display of his abs.
He would like to blame it on his sleep-addled brain—the only time his impulses are unguarded, and the consequences of his actions aren’t as tangible as they should be. It’s the only crack in his mask he’s willing to tolerate, if only for a dream-stained moment.
Seonghyeon is a good liar, but not good enough to stop his hand from reaching over, quiet as a mouse, as he peels off the blanket to reveal skin that goes down, down and—
A groan, then a voice hoarse from sleep, “Mm, cold….”
Lightning quick, Seonghyeon yanks his arm away and presses himself further into the wall behind him, heart slowing down from the jump of the adrenaline that had spiked through him.
Keonho swings his arm in a wide arc, casting around blindly, searching for a warm body next to him. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for (Seonghyeon presumably), he opens his eyes to see Seonghyeon shrinking against the wall. “What are you doing there?”
“What are you doing in my bed?” Seonghyeon counters. Shirtless, too, if I may add.
“I was freezing last night,” Keonho says as he stretches his body, joints creaking from the effort, and Seonghyeon watches as the blanket slips down like water on a smooth surface to unveil more of the glorious, toned body.
Seonghyeon visibly gulps, “Well, you should have worn a shirt then.”
“I heard body warmth is more effective,” and there it is the same eat-shiting grin.
“Get out, get out, I say,” Seonghyeon throws him a long-suffering look, kicks at his shins while doing so to make his displeasure known.
Keonho chuckles at that, deep and gravelly, before slinking away from the top bunk and back to his own.
The space that Keonho had occupied is still warm when Seonghyeon places a hand there tentatively. He shouldn’t be this rattled over a slight show of skin, much less towards Keonho
It’s Keonho for god’s sake—the same Keonho that steals the cereal he made sure to hide at the back of their cupboard, the one who turns off the light whenever Seonghyeon is inside the bathroom, ruins Seonghyeon’s much-needed beauty sleep with the whumping noises of fists colliding with the punching bag, and the one who gets on his nerves every possible moment just to spite him. It was easier when the only thing that bothered Seonghyeon was their youngest’s relentless teasing, but now he also has to deal with the complications of his body’s physiology when confronted with the sight of well-developed musculature.
Granted, he’s living with 4 other boys who all have good physiques. Being presentable in an industry that capitalizes on their visuals is a requisite for idols, and so it’s not uncommon to see them put considerable investments in their beauty and well-being. Seonghyeon can’t even count the number of times he’s splurged on skincare products that he meticulously lathers on his face or the diet plan he religiously follows.
These days, their maknae has somehow developed an interest in working out after Juhoon and Martins’ bidding. The thing about Keonho that Seonghyeon discovers after being with him for quite a while now is that whatever captivates the boy consumes him entirely.
It’s this minor incident that had set off Seonghyeon’s misery—made him more vigilant and conscious, eyes drawn towards the smooth expanse of skin, sinewy limbs, and veins running along forearms.
It shouldn’t be a problem if it was just a mere attraction towards a random stranger, but it’s Keonho.
Seonghyeon would deny it all the time just because he doesn’t want to inflate Keonho’s ego more than necessary, but it’s clear to see that their youngest has grown into someone infuriatingly handsome it makes Seonghyeon want to mutilate the butterflies fluttering inside his stomach every time Keonho clings to him.
So when Keonho nudges him awake for the second time that morning with a “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” wearing nothing except for a towel wrapped precariously around his waist—Seonghyeon hoped he was good enough of a liar to hide the red flush on his face.
It's late afternoon when the members decide to disperse from the practice room to get something to eat. Seonghyeon chooses to stay behind in the lounge area, perusing the delivery menu on his phone when Keonho enters the room, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the shoulder seams.
Upon seeing Seonghyeon, Keonho groans and throws himself over his lap, grabbing one of the cushions to smother his face with.
“I am dying, Hyeon,” he complains, voice muffled against the cushion as Seonghyeon slaps his thighs at the sudden invasion of his personal space.
“So?” Seonghyeon grumbles, “Why are you even here? Aren’t you supposed to go with the hyungs”
Keonho turns towards him, eyes rolling in distaste. “Rude. I stayed behind to accompany your sorry ass.”
“Should I thank you for your concern then?”
“Yes. I’m such a good boy, so I’m demanding compensation in the form of a massage.”
“God, you’re so annoying,” is what Seonghyeon tells him, but he still lets out an exasperated sigh, puts away his phone, and wonders why he can’t just say no every single time this happens. Then again, they’ve always been like this. Keonho would act like the biggest jerk in the world, and Seonghyeon would retaliate out of spite, but at the end of every banter and teasing, they’re the closest out of everyone.
It’s when Keonho starts taking off his shirt that Seonghyeon lets out an embarrassing yelp, turning around immediately to face the wall.
“What?” Keonho cranes his neck, trying to locate the source of Seonghyeon’s sudden distress.
“Why are you taking your shirt off?!”
“Uh, so you could give me a massage?”
“You can just keep it on, though?” Seonghyeon presses on, turning to face him and realizing he might have overreacted a little bit with the way Keonho is looking at him in bewilderment.
“Stop being dramatic,” Keonho rolls his eyes, somewhat annoyed, but Seonghyeon knows there’s no real bite in his words.
He watches as Keonho lies down on the couch once again, beckoning Seonghyeon over with a raise of his brow when he notices that he hasn’t moved an inch from where he’s standing.
Seonghyeon complies and situates himself on top of Keonho, thighs straddling the hips of him. He begins to press his thumbs down in circles over the small of Keonho’s back, climbing towards the area between his shoulder blades.
Seonghyeon gulps as the muscles underneath his palm tense from his touch, feeling the tendons as he puts more force. He drags his hands over the other's hip bone when a low moan slips from the seam of Keonho’s lips, and Seonghyeon freezes, suddenly hyper-aware of where he’s touching.
Keonho urges him to go on, shuffling slightly to jostle Seonghyeon out of his reverie. “Right there,”
“Huh?”
“The spot,” Keonho tells him, “that felt good.”
Seonghyeon ignores him and presses the heels of his palms rougher than before. He really shouldn’t have done that because Keonho lets out a broken moan, deeper and longer than the first one.
Someone put him out of his misery right now because Seonghyeon is not about to sport a boner on top of his member’s back just from a fucking moan.
He tells himself this, repeats it like a mantra over his head, to distract himself from the intrusive thoughts that are just making things difficult for him. He attempts to release his frustration by kneading the sensitive areas of Keonho’s back with more force than necessary, it has their maknae hollering for him to stop.
By the time he’s finished, Keonho’s skin is warm and pink from all the abuse.
“Geez, if you were that against it you could have just told me,” Keonho grumbles, picking up his discarded shirt. “You didn’t need to torture my back like that.”
“Sorry,” because Seonghyeon really is, but for an entirely different reason.
Later, he buys Keonho tteokbokki as a peace offering, and Keonho accepts it with the air of someone who is convinced he’ll always be pampered after every tantrum. Seonghyeon lets him be, hoping that this might relieve him of the guilt of having crude thoughts towards his co-member.
He tries not to think about it, but it gets harder to convince himself when he’s jerking off in the shower to Keonho’s moans looping steadily in his head like a broken record.
He remembers the hard muscles of Keonho’s back and how it felt underneath his touch. Seonghyeon imagines how it would feel if he could cling to it, have his nails scratch red marks on the surface. He washes the guilt off of his hands, thrice just to make sure, and watches it go down the drain before finally coming out of the bathroom.
And if he allows Keonho to climb into his bed that night, allows himself to press his back against the younger’s chest closer than he’d ever dared just to feel what it might be like to be under someone else’s body—that would be Seonghyeon’s secret alone.
Seonghyeon thinks that maybe he’s just pent-up, though he’s not sure why his libido is somehow exclusively responsive to just one person.
He knows it’s increasingly becoming a problem because he’s been distracted all throughout their performances, saved only by his muscle memory from numerous practices. It’s not entirely his fault his line of sight keeps landing on Keonho whenever he takes the spotlight—there is just something about the way Keonho moves across the stage almost as if he wears his heart on his sleeves at every beat.
But if Seonghyeon was more honest about his feelings, he knows his captivation has something to do more with the loose outfit providing him short glimpses of the younger's abdomen, straining against the strap of his monitor receiver.
It’s Martin that corners him one day, wanting to know exactly why Seonghyeon has been fucking up lately.
“You want me to believe there’s nothing going on with you?” exclaims Martin as they stretch their legs in front of the mirror of their pilates studio. “You almost forgot to dance your part last night.”
“It’s complicated,” Seonghyeon tells him. Martin only waits for him to continue from where he sits across from Seonghyeon. “I’m just feeling stressed lately.”
“Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“I don’t think any of us have been getting enough sleep.”
“Except for James hyung,” Martin chuckles, and Seonghyeon thinks back to the image of James sleeping soundly on the floor of their practice room.
“Keonho could dance on top of James hyung’s head and he wouldn’t even wake up,” Seonghyeon mutters followed by Martin’s laughs.
“But seriously, Seonghyeon,” Martin says. “You need to get your act together.”
“I know,” Seonghyeon falls silent, crossing his legs together.
“Is it Keonho?”
Something like panic seizes through Seonghyeon, stings like lightning in his system. “What?”
“Did you guys fight again?”
Seonghyeon takes gulping breaths. “What do you mean?”
“Well you two have always been close,” Martin starts, rolling his neck in the process. “So it’s not surprising whenever you guys fight because it’s pretty obvious.”
“We’re not fighting,” Seonghyeon interjects.
“I guessed so. If it was a fight, Keonho would be sulking right now and throwing sad puppy eyes at you. But this seems more like a one-sided thing on your part, am I right?”
Martin can be surprisingly perceptive at times, it makes sense why they chose him to be the leader.
“Yeah,” Seonghyeon gives in, unable to meet Martin’s eyes. “You’re right.”
“I won’t ask what it’s about,” Martin reassures him. “But whatever it is, you need to settle it with Keonho, okay? Don’t even think of running away.”
Don’t run away, Martin had told Seonghyeon, from the one thing that he’s been trying to hide like a dirty secret.
He’s resting in one of the empty dressing rooms provided by the music show that sponsored them that day when Keonho appears in the doorway, the lapels of his suit askew as if he’d been running.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Seonghyeon tells him, barely glancing over their maknae who closes the door behind him in a rush.
“It’s worse,” Keonho responds, trailing down to the back of the room and opening the closet doors.
Seonghyeon raises his eyebrows. “Hm?”
“It’s James hyung,”
“What about James hyung?”
Keonho doesn’t answer but instead, he marches towards Seonghyeon, grabs him by the arm, and hauls him inside the confines of the nearest closet.
If Seonghyeon wasn’t so stunned at the sudden situation he was in, he would have thought more about the way Keonho had easily manhandled him.
It’s dark and cramped in the closet, and this is exactly the kind of situation he’s been trying to avoid if he could—with Keonho close to him, every part of their bodies touching. It’s not surprising that the other was taking up the majority of the space with all that height and breadth it makes Seonghyeon feel so small and defenseless.
In the dark without his vision, Seonghyeon’s senses seem to border on oversensitivity. He’s suddenly more conscious of Keonho caging him against the back of the closet or how one of the younger’s legs is settled dangerously close to his groin. He can’t see the younger, but he feels him breathe down on the side of his neck, it has Seonghyeon gripping at the hem of his own shirt.
“I did something stupid,” Keonho whispers, breath tickling the shell of Seonghyeon’s ear.
“You always do something stupid,” Seonghyeon hisses back. “What is it this time?”
“I accidentally put spice in James hyung’s dumpling,”
“What do you mean accidentally ?”
“Details are not important,” Keonho shushes him. “And quiet down will you?”
“You dragged me here!”
Keonho hands find his hips, keeping his grip firm, but Seonghyeon still fights against his hold, petty and anxious for all the wrong reasons. “Shit, just—stop moving,” Keonho whispers into his ears.
“Let me go—” he tries to squirm away, but then he hears the heavy stomping of footsteps, followed by the sound of the door being thrown wide open. Seonghyeon stills, seeing the silhouette of a person through the cracks of the door when he suddenly remembers the precarious position he is in with their maknae and thinks of what would happen if someone discovered them at that moment. It’s this perceived dread that has him hiding his mouth behind his palms, swallowing any sound that threatens to spill over. One of Keonho’s hands leaves his waist and slides under Seonghyeon’s hand, pressing skin against warm lips.
The footsteps are getting nearer to where they are, but it’s a distant sound compared to the roaring of blood in Seonghyeon’s ears. Keonho drops his forehead onto his shoulder, and when he speaks, Seonghyeon can feel the vibrations of it travel through his skin. “Be still.”
Seonghyeon only nods, trying to hide his trembling breath. There really isn’t anything he should be hiding from, much less be scared of. The only one in deep trouble is Keonho, whose penchant for mischief has gotten him sanctioned more times than necessary—usually in the form of James smacking him upside the head.
In all honesty, Seonghyeon isn’t afraid of getting caught. He’s afraid of the boy in front of him, pressing his knee closer to where it shouldn't be—and Seonghyeon is afraid of the way his body is starting to respond.
He tries to shift his hips, but Keonho’s grip on him tightens. If he paid attention to the other sounds swamping his senses and not at his desperation to keep his body from reacting, he would have heard the snicker the younger makes when Seonghyeon wiggles away unsuccessfully.
They wait until the footsteps are inaudible, the clatter of the metal doorknob, and the subsequent sound of the door shutting close. Seonghyeon feels like a grain of sand in an hourglass, a morsel against all the pressure before he eventually falls into a heap of emotions he’s not ready to disclose yet. He sucks back a breath when Keonho mouth brushes the junction between his neck and shoulder, and Seonghyeon instinctively drops his head the other way, giving the other more access.
The hand on his mouth slips down and chooses to settle behind Seonghyeon, effectively caging him in once more.
“Let go,” Seonghyeon says in the dark, surprised he’s able to get out a sentence in a situation that would usually leave him at a loss for words. Still, time moves but neither of them does.
It feels like hours before anything happens, and Seonghyeon has to wallow in his torment as Keonho traitorously says something he wishes he could just unhear.
“I don’t want to,” he tells Seonghyeon with all the intention to be particularly obstinate at such a critical time.
“Keonho,” Seonghyeon pleads, “ Move .”
“No,” even without his sight, Seonghyeon knows that Keonho is staring down at him in glee—positively delighted in making his life miserable at every turn.
Normally, Seonghyeon would tolerate Keonho’s provocations, but he’s in a very inconvenient position to do so, with the temperature rising as he tries to hamper down the tightness in his pants. It doesn’t help that Keonho seems to be grinding down at him, knee shallowly pressing into his crotch. “Stop that,” Seonghyeon grits, voice merely a whisper.
“Stop what?”
“You’re too close!”
He regrets saying it almost immediately when Keonho attempts to press him harder against the back of the closet. “But it’s so cramped” he whispers, “and besides, I like it here.”
“Well, I don’t—” Seonghyeon tries to push him away but Keonho remains solid, so massive and imposing Seonghyeon’s rebuttals wither in his throat. He’s half-sitting on his thigh now, wishing that the other wouldn’t feel the burgeoning tent in his pants.
“You’re so tiny,” Keonho tells him, nuzzling his head under Seonghyeon’s jaw and Seonghyeon twitches heavily under the attention. “It’s kind of cute.”
Seonghyeon should feel mortified, or even irritated at this sort of situation forced upon him. But instead, he’s helpless against the wave of arousal, pushing his hips closer towards the friction he’s been seeking. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to hump his thigh like a fucking dog.
“Your heart is beating too fast,” Keonho mutters from where he is, breath tickling the sensitive skin of Seonghyeon’s neck. Seonghyeon wishes he could kick himself.
The hand from his hip travels to Seonghyeon’s waist, fingers hovering hesitantly for a bit before slipping beneath his shirt. “Why are you so tense?” Seonghyeon takes a shuddering breath at the teasing touches tormenting him. “Relax.”
Seonghyeon’s head falls back against the closet wall, but Keonho only takes this as an open invitation to nose along his jawline. “You always smell really good too.”
“Keonho,” Seonghyeon whines. “Stop what you’re doing.”
“Like what?” He retorts, fanning his breath over Seonghyeon’s ear.
“Don’t do that!”
“This?” Keonho grins, blowing hot air in Seonghyeon’s ear once again just to hear him whimper in return.
The pressure in his pants is gradually climbing to painful heights and Seonghyeon has to move or, god forbid, he might actually start grinding on Keonho.
“Hmm…” Keonho hums thoughtfully and wraps his hands around Seonghyeon’s waist. “So small. I can probably carry you just like this.”
Seonghyeon shudders, visions of strong arms and back muscles invading his mind, any other thought goes straight to his cock. It’s always been a fantasy of his, a mere delusion he entertains when he’s looking through his gallery of the curated porno he gets off to. He likes seeing the pull of hair, the rough manhandling, the possibility of being crushed underneath the body of someone bigger than him.
“Oh?” Suddenly Keonho pulls away from him, and without thinking, Seonghyeon whines for his warmth back. “You like that, huh?”
Seonghyeon just squirms wordlessly.
“Would you like that?” Keonho asks him again, bringing his face closer to Seonghyeon’s.
“I…I don’t know,” Seonghyeon tells him.
“This one here tells me you’re lying,” Keonho taunts, he brings his knee against Seonghyeon’s bulge, feeling the way it gets harder.
“It’s not what you—” Keonho rubs him through his pants, listening to how Seonghyeon’s breath starts to come out faster, more desperate. He can’t help but move his hips along to the rhythm he has set for him, but then he stills when Keonho presses his forehead to his own.
“You think I wouldn’t notice?”
Seonghyeon muffles a moan, and Keonho brushes his lips against his in response. “You think I wouldn’t feel you getting hard against me since a while ago?”
“S-shit, I don’t—” Seonghyeon heaves a breath. “I’m sorry,” he’s not sure why he’s apologizing but he wishes his voice is enough to convey how delirious he is right now.
“Yeah,” Keonho places a hand gently on Seonghyeon’s face, “You should be.”
What other counterargument he has gets swallowed by Keonho, tongue running along the seam of Seonghyeon’s mouth, probing at his closed lips. He allows him to take hold of the reins, his mind already too hazy to think of where this would end. Keonho kisses him like he wants to devour him, and it pulls something within Seonghyeon, something primal and debauched.
The hand caressing his face slides to his nape, and he is caught off guard when Keonho grabs him by the back of it, fingers pressing hard against the side of Seonghyeon’s neck.
Seonghyeon sighs, feeling himself wilt as Keonho applies pressure to where his fingers are placed. He tries to quiet down his whimpers but Keonho kisses him harder, wanting to hear more of Seonghyeon’s delectable noises. He bites at his bottom lip, nips at it teasingly, alternating between biting and licking to soothe the sting that comes with it.
Seonghyeon feels feverish, the closet is starting to feel too cramped for his own liking. Still, he can’t help but gasp when Keonho applies pressure on the side of his neck, choking him lightly. He tries to move back but Keonho follows suit, locking him once more into a deep kiss. He can’t remember if he’s taken a breath yet, but he thinks it doesn’t matter if he can have Keonho’s taste seared on his tongue for hours to come.
This could go on forever—Seonghyeon wishes it could—but a hand finds its way to his waist once more, creeping over the front of his pants. “So cute,” Keonho pants against his mouth. “I got you like this, yeah?”
Seonghyeon’s yes is followed by another moan when he slips his hand under his pants. However, when the pads of Keonho’s fingers meet the skin of Seonghyeon’s erection, he panics and pushes Keonho forcefully away from him.
Unfortunately, Keonho’s back is against the door of the closet and so he lands unceremoniously on the ground, stunned at Seonghyeon’s sudden action.
The light is momentarily blinding after being confined in the closet for God knows how long, but Seonghyeon can still see the dumbfounded expression on Keonho’s face and it kills him. Suddenly it dawns on him just what exactly they had been doing the past few minutes and shame slithers through his conscience, grapples with what’s left of his reason.
The silence that falls upon them is unbearable.
High from the adrenaline rush of their quick dalliance, and still half-hard in his pants—Seonghyeon does the exact thing Martin told him not to do.
He runs away.
“I’m guessing it’s not one-sided anymore is it?” is Martin’s greeting to him a few days after the incident. They’re eating at the company cafeteria, while the other members decide to dine out.
“It’s not a fight if that’s what you’re thinking,” Seonghyeon tells him. “We’re just being weird together, it’ll pass.” He decides that it’s probably not a good idea to divulge the fact that he had been rendezvousing inside the closet with Keonho in a public venue no less.
“You two have always been weird though,” Martin sighs, picking at the lettuce in his sandwich. “But listen to this,”
“Hm?” Seonghyeon swallows around his bento rice.
“James hyung told me that Keonho refused to play games with him!”
“Oh,” Seonghyeon says, feeling familiar guilt wash through him. “It’s that bad?”
Martin shrugs, unwrapping more of his sandwich. “Well, I guess you need to talk to him soon to find out.”
It isn’t until later, much later, does Seonghyeon think that ‘soon’ came a bit earlier than he forecasted.
He is the first one to go home that evening, fingers numb and cheeks flushed red from the cold. As soon as he opens the door to their apartment, he realizes that he isn’t alone. He’s not sure who it is—
Seonghyeon makes it to the living room, dropping off his coat and draping it over the rack when he sees someone on the pull-up machine. He bites back a curse because nothing has been going his way this entire week, and the universe must love seeing him rattled because Keonho is currently working out, torso bare like that first morning Seonghyeon finds him back in his bed.
The first thing he notices is the wide expanse of skin assaulting his sight. He watches as shoulders adduct and then extends, muscles pulled taut while the younger flexes in the air. He hasn’t looked properly at Keonho in a while, and now with just the two of them alone in a room, Seonghyeon can see the results of Keonho’s hard-earned obsession.
He’s grown significantly compared to the first time Seonghyeon met him. Limbs longer, but also bulkier, with a body built like those of contemporary dancers. He’s staring, he knows this. But when he brings his focus back to where his head is supposed to be, he’s met with Keonho eyeing him instead.
Seonghyeon’s heart rate speeds up immediately, sending a thrum of misplaced excitement through his body. He turns around quickly, rushing back towards his room, or even the front door—anywhere he’s free from Keonho’s presence—but there’s rustling behind him, the sound of footsteps until he’s being pulled into strong arms.
He lets out a confused noise, but Keonho only squeezes his shoulders lightly before rubbing his hands down the length of Seonghyeon’s arms. “Stay,” Keonho tells him, voice out of breath, yet deeper than what Seonghyeon is used to.
Seonghyeon turns in his hold to face Keonho, to reprimand him in some way, but all of that is lost in his throat when he sees the brooding expression on his face—if brooding could be categorized as predatory.
There’s a slight sheen of sweat covering Keonho’s skin, and his eyes are blown black, probably from the spike of adrenaline still running in his system. Seonghyeon lets his eyes travel down and he almost squeaks in perverse delight when he sees the hard set of muscles on his abdomen. It truly is a sight to behold, the beginnings of arousal igniting a fire deep in his guts.
“Eyes up here.” Keonho calls to him, but Seonghyeon can’t process what he just said, because in the seconds after he looks up, Keonho is in his space, mouth dragging slick against his own as Seonghyeon curls his fingers around the back of Keonho’s neck, desire finally unclothed between them.
Seonghyeon whimpers and he revels in the feeling of arms gripping him tightly. He makes sure to drink every drop of want that comes out of Keonho’s mouth, fasten it, and keep it to himself. They kiss, deep and indulgent, tongues sliding against each other obscenely, yet Seonghyeon couldn’t find it in him to care anymore.
When Keonho pulls away, it’s to instruct him to hold onto his shoulders, and Seonghyeon is very much desperate at this point he’s willing to obey without question. Keonho slides a hand down Seonghyeon’s thighs and hitches his legs up around his waist. He carries him across the room and into their bedroom but stops at the wall and pins Seonghyeon there in the perfect position to grind their hips together.
The slow grinding is torturous, and Seonghyeon responds with filthy noises he would usually swallow—Keonho does it for him, biting at his lip before sucking on his tongue like he’s been deprived of it. “You don’t have to hide it from me,” he tells him, voice slightly muffled as he sucks hickeys against Seonghyeon’s neck. “Isn’t it hard to pretend?”
“Keonho, please,” Seonghyeon whines, chasing the friction he so desperately needs.
“Only if you admit to yourself that you want this,” Keonho murmurs, but he still grinds into Seonghyeon, picking up the pace and expertly using one hand to undo the buttons of Seonghyeon’s jeans. Unlike before, there’s no hesitation in the way Keonho slides his hand underneath Seonghyeon’s pants, rubbing his erection to full hardness.
“N-No—,” Seonghyeon sobs out loud, half-delirious.
“Liar,” Keonho whispers right up against his ear, and Seonghyeon crumbles from the depravity of it all.
He’s not sure why he’s still fighting against it. There really isn’t that much to fight for anymore. If Seonghyeon had to be honest, he just wants nothing more than to be split wide open by Keonho’s cock, right against their bedroom wall, fucking into Seonghyeon until he can no longer remember his own name.
Keonho smears the pre-come on the tip, sliding his slick fingers across Seonghyeon’s cock, jerking him off to completion with Seonghyeon shivering in his hold. “Tell me you want this,” Keonho tells him again, tracing his fingers towards the cleft of Seonghyeon’s ass, before hovering over his hole.
Seonghyeon whines in response, words caught between panting breaths. “No, please—”
Seonghyeon has been so pent-up for days now that he doesn’t care how or who is gonna fill the hunger that has been crawling under his skin. He’s too desperate, too needy to function, begging Keonho to kiss him again. Keonho obliges, as he always ends up doing so, smiling at how he chases after him when he pulls back. He laughs against Seonghyeon’s mouth before slipping a finger inside his hole, stretching him gently, and engulfing the ensuing moans.
“Hyeonie, do you want me?” Keonho coaxes him, voice so deep and enticing it gripes something in Seonghyeon. He works his fingers in and out of him, increasing the pace just to hear him keen.
Seonghyeon is crying now but he still manages to slide his mouth against the other. Unfortunately, Keonho draws back to ask him the same question. “I d-do,” Seonghyeon sobs. “Touch me more, p-please.”
Keonho hums, his fingers teasing at Seonghyeon’s hole before pulling all of it out. Seonghyeon looks at him betrayed, his hole suddenly feeling devastatingly empty. “W-Wh—?”
He’s placed down on the ground almost immediately, and Seonghyeon stands there confused. Keonho strips himself off of his remaining clothing before moving towards the bed and sitting down on the mattress. “You said you wanted me,” he starts, mischief leaking in his voice. “Then take it for yourself.”
Something snaps inside Seonghyeon—the last thread of inhibition he’s still keeping in the recesses of his mind. He’s been teased for far too long, and he doesn’t think he has enough restraint to hold back anymore.
Kissing Keonho is wonderful, but kissing him with Seonghyeon on top of him while dragging his slick cock across his abs—a fantasy he’s been replaying in his bed for days now—is a slice of heaven he’ll take for himself. A scrumptious meal has been graciously prepared for him, and Seonghyeon is going to feast accordingly.
Seonghyeon props himself on his elbows, moaning shamelessly, and god, he’s been wanting this for so long.
His thighs are a messy sight—pre-come and slick running down, hole gaping wide—and Seonghyeon tries to maneuver his entrance onto Keonho’s member. He cranes his neck to glimpse at Keonho’s cock and he whimpers at its girth, the thickness of it, and wonders if it would even fit inside him.
But Keonho isn’t Keonho if he wasn’t impatient, and just when Seonghyeon feels like backing out, he pulls him at the shoulders and pins him on the mattress. “Let me have fun too, hyeonie,” he says before hitching up Seonghyeon’s legs over his shoulders.
He grabs at his shaft, and teases the tip of it around Seonghyeon’s hole, enjoying the wetness, and his tiny whimpers. “You should have just been honest,”
Seonghyeon is too deep in his headspace to respond coherently, so he wraps his arms around Keonho, pulling him closer instead. Keonho rests his forehead against his, drops a sweet, sweet kiss on top of Seonghyeon’s nose before he slides in, plunging his cock inside of Seonghyeon, drawing back out and then slamming right back in.
He’s bending Seonghyeon in half, driving into him with such force the bed is creaking against the wall. Seonghyeon lets out a moan so wrecked it does nothing but spur Keonho on. He climaxes immediately, his body going rigid as the force of his own orgasm paralyzes him momentarily. Unfortunately, Keonho doesn’t give him any temporary respite. In one swift motion, he turns Seonghyeon around and picks him up so that he’s hanging just by Keonho’s cock and arm, fucking him from behind, driving him to oversensitivity.
“You’re like a doll, hyeonie.” Keonho groans. “You’re so tiny and pretty. Just made for me.”
Seonghyeon would like to think he’s cried enough, but Keonho thrusting relentlessly into him from behind, treating him the way he's always wanted to be treated, makes him feel so good he can’t help but sob out the other’s name.
Keonho pushes him against the mattress, their bodies now close enough that they can feel each other’s heat beneath their skin. He continues to whisper filthy things into Seonghyeon’s ear, telling him how good he is, how he can fuck him standing up soon, and that he should just be honest about what he likes if he wants to be treated like a little slut more.
The rhythm of Keonho’s hips turns erratic, and Seonghyeon knows he’s approaching his climax soon. To goad him on, Seonghyeon fucks himself back on his cock, shameless moans spilling from his mouth. He brings a hand to his lower belly, and mewls when he feels a bulge in the shape of Keonho’s cock.
Keonho drops his head on his shoulder and Seonghyeon turns to look at him, wordlessly they meet each other in a languid kiss, slow and sloppy, a direct contrast to the brutal pace of their lower bodies.
It’s the combination of both that finally has them coming, and something warm and wet spills inside Seonghyeon—and finally, finally, after weeks of playing with fire and desperately wishing for it to burn him, Seonghyeon feels thoroughly filled to the brim and sated.
He whimpers as Keonho slides out, cum dribbling down his hole and thighs, before he shifts once again so that he has Seonghyeon on top of his chest. They rest like that for a while, in complete bliss and languor.
“Why are you home so early by the way?” Seonghyeon asks him moments later after they’ve come down from their high. He’s evidently tired, bones weary, and stretched raw. “I thought you’re going to the gym tonight?”
“Martin hyung said he wanted me to accompany him and to wait here at the dorms,” Keonho says, exasperation seeping from his voice.
Of course, if anyone was plotting something, it would be Martin. “So he forced us to make up?”
“Like a fuck or die situation,”
“You watch too many horror movies,” Seonghyeon grumbles.
“We should do that,” Keonho tells him, nuzzling into Seonghyeon’s hair.
“Watch horror movies?”
A hand slides into Seonghyeon’s waist, tracing circles on his skin, lithe touches burning where it lands. “Yeah,” It creeps lower and lower down to his hip bone, dangerously close to where he’s starting to feel his arousal swirl back into existence. “Preferably while you’re riding me too.”
And if Seonghyeon does agree to it later on, with his head thrown back and Keonho eating him out—that would be their secret alone