Work Text:
내가 연준이형이었으면은 내가 그냥 예뻐 죽어버릴 것 같은데.
[If I was Yeonjun hyung, I’d just die from how pretty I’d be.]
Choi Yeonjun likes to think he’s a pretty confident individual. Years upon years of idol training have imbued him with a self-assurance that has also helped hone with him the time-honoured Korean concept of 눈치 or the (surprisingly uncommon) ability to ‘read the room’. A career that hinges on pleasing the general public with the guarantee of a spotlight always being in your face forces you to start noticing what works and what doesn’t.
He knows he’s hot; knows that a simple quirk of his eyebrow is enough to bring the Music Bank MOAs to their knees, understands that just a flash of flat belly lands him in the #1 spot for Twitter trends, and is a master at WeVerse replies that could double up as dialogue in otome games.
It isn’t just his looks, blessed with an innate talent for what others would consider mind-reading, able to clock someone’s actual thoughts regardless of what exited their mouth.
“It’s all in the eyes, mostly,” he had told a dumbfounded Beomgyu who was gaping at him like a fish after Yeonjun had managed to solve the mystery of getting whoever had stolen and broken his beloved Marshall headphones to confess. (It had been a very Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express-esque incident of both manager and member— in which a certain plush toy-loving member had left the headphones out on the living room floor in the dark, leaving it unwilling victim to the unsteady and accidental tread of beloved Manager Jisoo’s heavy foot).
Life is made easier with an ability like this, always knowing what to do and what to say to make his fans happy, keep his managers pleased, and gain the tenuous approval of what his group had fondly coined “the Big Hit elders,” aka the upper echelon of senior management that were the puppeteers of their success.
However, like a pebble in his shoe, there was an exception, a very tall and painfully handsome exception, an exception that has been plaguing what should have been a smooth stream of a social life with endless ripples and the occasional riptide. An exception who, beyond any reason, refused to stop getting more handsome; courtesy of that bedamned curse that plagued anyone turning 23 years old in Big Hit.
That exception was of course, none other than Choi Soobin, the leader of their group, and the one knot in the thread of Yeonjun's life that he continuously failed to untangle. It wasn't for lack of trying, mind you, but every time he thought he had gotten a handle on what made their luscious-lipped leader tick, he was proven wrong. It had been so much easier back when they were younger; Soobin being the definition of ‘fluffy’ walking around on two legs, allowing Yeonjun ample access to his cheeks and personal space.
He sighs, remembering fondly how Soobin's eyes would crinkle as he enveloped Yeonjun in his particular brand of hug—the kind that folded all 180cm of him into the person he was hugging. It didn't take more than five of those hugs for Yeonjun to make very reluctant peace with the burgeoning crush blooming traitorously in his chest. He kept it close under his skin, where it was content to simmer, bubbling up whenever Soobin was close and damn near boiling when they were pressed up too near, warm skin against warmer skin.
Speaking of skin, they were gearing up fast for their comeback and while Yeonjun does appreciate the Peter Pan-esque thematics, he does not appreciate the hot flashes he is having to go through due to the outfits chosen for them. As a bunch of hot-blooded men living together, it was a given that they’d seen their fill of each other in the nude, but there was something especially tantalising about seeing Soobin's flat stomach barely clothed in a tattered cardigan with his brand-new blonde hair. Yeonjun understands exactly why the fashion department was held in such high regard within the company. Paired with the teetering-on-erotic nature of both their music video and photoshoot concept, Yeonjun is thankful for how baggy his jeans are, hiding the potential for any on-shoot problems.
He laments the fact that the music video is being filmed in Jakarta where his burning skin can find no refuge even in the shade. He’s already the only member who enjoys filming in winter when the chill keeps the sweat at bay and his brain sharp. Here he finds his mind going muggy (and in direct opposition, his mouth dry) as he fixates on Soobin’s half-lidded eyes, the flash of pink within his mouth, and the sheen of his skin as the tropical weather leaves its trace on him. Quite frankly, he curses the fact that the same man who has earned the title of ‘giant bunny’ from their fans, is also the same man with the ability to look so astoundingly sensual he has managed to pull focus from the brilliantly emerald greenery surrounding them.
He wishes he could stand underneath the giant waterfall they’re filming at, both to cool the heat overriding his brain; and to also obscure his view of the distraction currently lying pliant on a smooth rock while stylists fuss over his hair.. Yeonjun grumbles to himself; for someone who does close to no physical activity outside of his job, Soobin has no right to have the body he does, stomach curving inward as he tries to breathe calmly despite the cold water washing over him. Yeonjun feels his mouth start to water, startling out of his daze when his eyes meet Soobin’s blinking ones; the blue contacts and a liberal splash of blush across his cheeks and nose causing Yeonjun to feel even more like he’s drowning.
He looks away and clears his throat, catching a glimpse of his pitiful reflection in the water, wishing he could dunk his head in but knowing the makeup team would actually wring his pretty neck. The shoot proceeds without any more incidents aside from Yeonjun catching the smirk that seems to have settled comfortably on Soobin’s (stupid, perfect) lips. He frowns, and there it is, the ever-present confusion that only Choi Soobin can cause him. Everyone else is a transparent pane of glass, but this 185cm man is maddeningly similar to a door whose lock enjoys vanishing every so often.
It’s always been a tenuous push-and-pull between them; a constant exchange which has only served to put a spotlight on how badly Yeonjun wants him, wants to break that damn door down. He knows when someone wants him, knows when someone hates him, but he doesn’t know what Soobin wants and that scares him. Yeonjun pushes his hair behind his ear, a tell for when he’s nervous; he’s never gotten used to being unable to get a read on Soobin. It makes his stomach churn with unfamiliar emotions, a heady combination of dread and anticipation.
Luckily, when the music video filming is finally over and they’ve returned to Korea, a flurry of promotions quickly grabs unrelenting hold of his attention. Between the variety shows and the music show performances, he’s back to his usual confident self, pulling screams and Naver articles alike with composer-like grace. This comeback is sensational, with the title song ending up ranking Number 1 on the Billboard charts. Like the glitter on their skin, the entire promotional period is tinged with a fantasy-like feel, as awards and accolades continue to pile up.
Yeonjun is also more than satisfied with the response that his couple photos with Soobin have received, not to mention the 50-plus edits he has seen on TikTok of Soobin’s giant hand making its way down his thigh in the Sugar Rush Ride choreography. He may not have any semblance of a handle on Soobin’s thoughts but he can at least confirm that their visual chemistry is off the charts. He’s coasting along on the high of their success, and everything is going well until they get invited to Melon Spotlight, a radio spot, to talk about their new album.
The questions are, for lack of a better word, diverse—ranging from their favourite song to which role they’d like to play in the shower, the washer or the washed, which is definitely not a thought that Yeonjun has had before while locked in the privacy of his room. Then they come to the part that throws a spanner in the cogs of Yeonjun’s mind—it’s a perfectly normal ask: spare a few heartwarming words to the member beside you.
The words that exit Soobin’s mouth are so painfully genuine, said without a trace of mirth that all Yeonjun can do to maintain composure is the little nervous giggle that tends to escape him when situations like this happen.
“I’d like for you to love yourself a bit more,” Soobin gushes and Yeonjun is so grateful no one can see his face. He tries to argue that he already does before both him and his connection to his brain are cut off by Soobin’s next words, “I mean of course I know you love yourself but… if I was Yeonjun hyung… I’d just die from how pretty I’d be.” Yeonjun feels a zing go up his spine, atmosphere going red hot as he thanks Soobin profusely, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. He once again offers up his gratitude to whichever higher being is listening that this is a radio show where no one can catch how the other younger members are burning holes at the two of them with the intensity of their stares.
Soobin pays them no mind, choosing instead to keep his smouldering gaze on Yeonjun's face. He’s so distracted he nearly topples the Americano beneath his chair, as he reaches for it to soothe a suddenly parched throat. The van ride back home to their dorm almost feels like the Twilight Zone, with everything Soobin had said repeating itself in the slipstream of Yeonjun’s mind. Despite how big the vehicle is, the distance between their seats feels infinitesimal. He feels something heavy press on his thigh, looking down to see Soobin’s hand resting nonchalantly on his leg. He nearly gives himself whiplash with how fast his head turns to look at the owner of the hand but Soobin is steadfastly staring at the streetlamps flashing by outside the window.
Not to quote Katy Perry but Yeonjun is seriously starting to feel like a plastic bag, barely tethered to the ground. The only thing his mind can focus on is the warm weight on his thigh, the conversation from the other three members sounding like it’s coming from a distant room. He finally recognises the street outside, knowing he will be safely ensconced in his room within ten minutes.
Or so he thinks before the hand on his thigh vanishes, only to wrap around his wrist as he is unceremoniously yanked from the van. Soobin still won't look at him, humming under his breath as he pulls, Yeonjun bobbing behind him unsteadily. As they head towards the lift, he realises it's just the two of them; maknae members and managers alike have suspiciously dissolved into the dark of the night. Yeonjun's legs feel like jelly.
"Uh, Soobin? Where did everyone go?" he swallows thickly as the lanky man punches in the code to their dorm door and swings it open, "Hmm? Oh, you know, somewhere I'm sure." Now, that's interesting. Soobin's their leader meaning he can bullshit with the best of them, so to push past Yeonjun's question with possibly the weakest answer he's ever heard means all his focus is on something else, something that once again, Yeonjun can't get a feel for.
He relinquishes his hold on Yeonjun's wrist, gently pushing him onto the couch, bending lower and lower until their foreheads are only an inch apart. This kind of contact isn't entirely foreign to Yeonjun, their relationship has been built on a foundation of subtle to not-so-subtle touches, from his using Soobin's ears as his stress release to Soobin finding ways to graze his fingertips across his skin both on and off camera. What does feel foreign is how he can’t ever tell if those touches have any other hidden meanings; for all his affection Soobin reverts to an oddly stoic form seconds later, leaving Yeonjun discombobulated and uncertain.
Soobin whispers, making Yeonjun shiver, "I'm going to take a quick shower, hyung. You can stay here, or you can join me." He straightens and casually strolls to his room to put his comically large backpack away, nonchalantly shrugging off his jacket in a manner that gets Yeonjun's heart racing. Showering together isn't something new, they've had full-on snowball fights in winter and idols are always running short on time.. but this is different. The dorm suddenly feels closer, darker, far more intimate than usual. The cologne that Soobin had sprayed earlier is left behind in his wake, powdered sugar tickling Yeonjun’s nose and making him light-headed.
The soft click of the bathroom door closing snaps him out of his daze. Soobin just asked me to shower with him. Is this a normal shower? What the hell is a normal shower?? Then he remembers the look Soobin had given him at the waterfall and he bolts to his feet, shedding his clothes in record time. He opens the door and a sakura-scented steam cloud surrounds his body, Soobin's back is turned to him, so he takes the opportunity to rake his eyes over his pale form. He's a contradiction, all sharp angles and smooth curves; his deep obsession with bread is somehow never evident in his appearance.
Yeonjun doesn't know if there's some magic word or password he's meant to be saying, so he sidles furtively next to Soobin, trying desperately not to look southward. Soobin turns towards him, expression unreadable (as usual), and places a handful of shampoo foam into his hair, gently starting to massage his scalp. Yeonjun wonders if this is his way of lulling him into a false sense of security.. it is working.
As his eyes slide shut, he hears Soobin murmuring, "You know I meant everything I said back there. You really should love yourself more, hyung.. and you truly are terribly.. terribly pretty." Yeonjun stays silent, allowing fingers to continue pulling shampoo through his hair while knowing he's probably as red as Taehyun's hair during Can't You See Me. It's so relaxing he could fall asleep if it wasn't for his heart about to thud out of his chest and the very handsome, very naked man in front of him.
"Hyung, are you going to keep your eyes closed?" Soobin reaches for the shower head, making sure the water is warm enough before he begins rinsing Yeonjun's hair. It's a hard decision to make, but he cracks one eye open to see Soobin staring intently at him. Once he's satisfied the shampoo is all gone, he puts the shower head back and begins tracing tentative lines across Yeonjun's collarbones, "What's on your mind? I can hear you thinking."
Yeonjun gulps, trying to kick the only brain cell currently surviving in his head into some form of coherent speech, "I— I have a lot of thoughts, Soobin-ah. But my main ones are mostly, what are we doing in this bathroom and how did you manage to get everyone to leave us alone?" Soobin laughs, the squeaky windshield wiper one that Yeonjun is completely endeared to, "Leader privileges, I guess? But mostly I wanted to talk about... well.. us," Yeonjun's breath hitches as Soobin's hand moves up to cup his cheek, years of muscle memory making him subconsciously lean in.
What did 'us' mean to Soobin? To Yeonjun, it meant yearning—a hunger that would rear its head every so often, only placated by soft, stolen moments between the both of them. Keeping quiet only when Yeonjun's delusions were temporarily fed. Also, why was this all happening in the freaking dorm bathroom!? Yeonjun's heart has now travelled from his chest to his throat. He gulps it back down, grabbing Soobin's hand, and placing a cautious kiss on it. "Soobin-ah, I really want to talk about us too, but... can we maybe talk about us outside of the shower?"
Soobin's eyes have gone wide from the press of lips against his palm, but they soon turn into half-moons as he chuckles in agreement. They shower for real but take about twice as long as usual as Soobin peppers small kisses all over the tops of Yeonjun's shoulders. Yeonjun feels almost intoxicated by the desire to reciprocate, but all he can manage is more blushing as he continues scrubbing himself with fervent precision, determined not to slip and take himself out on the toilet seat.
They towel off, and Yeonjun almost regrets asking to bring the conversation back outside, woefully deprived of damp-haired, wet-skinned Soobin, body now obscured by a hoodie and shorts. They settle on Yeonjun's bed, facing each other as Soobin plays with his hand, drawing nonsensical patterns on his wrist. If Yeonjun doesn't get some of his thoughts out right now, he's going to pass out, but before he can, Soobin beats him to it.
"You know what I love about you, hyung? I love that you can read a room in seconds. I love that you can have that same room wrapped around your pinky in milliseconds. I can see it all over your face; that confidence takes over, and it drives me insane."
There's a pause as Soobin collects his thoughts, and Yeonjun loses more of his.
"The thing is, I don't want to be one of those people that you see through. We're already surrounded by so much superficiality, so many shallow connections. I want something more than that with you. I want.. more? SO much more, like—" Before he can keep rambling, Yeonjun does the unthinkable, throwing caution to the wind as he scrambles into Soobin's lap to press a kiss to his lips.
He’s pushed up against the headboard, somehow still having the presence of mind to wrap an arm around Yeonjun so he doesn’t fall off the bed. It’s a quick, messy kiss, and when Yeonjun pulls away there’s a string of spit still connecting them. Soobin blinks at Yeonjun who has gone completely wild-eyed and is stuttering like a madman.
“See through you!? I can barely SQUINT through you! All these years, I could never get an idea of what you thought of me! You think you’re going crazy but oh my god , every time you touch me, I genuinely think I’m going to explode, Soobin-ah. But then you just turn away like nothing happened! Your brain is a literal fucking mystery to me, but somehow you get to live in mine rent-free, and I’m sorry for kissing you but if your definition of ‘more’ isn’t that, I may need to reenact the end of LO$ER=LO♡ER.”
Yeonjun huffs at the end of his little speech, then realizes he’s still sitting in Soobin’s lap. As comfortable as it is, he finds that the many fantasies he’s imagined before are slowly trying to creep to the forefront of his mind. As he starts shifting, Soobin’s arm tightens around him; pulling him so near their groins end up pressed together. The sensation almost has Yeonjun’s eyes rolling back behind his head. He hears Soobin growl deep in the back of his throat—a sound he’s never heard before—and is now convinced the loose basketball shorts he threw on are about to erupt off him.
Soobin leans in so he can breathe into Yeonjun’s ear, “Hyung, I’ve been fairly clear about how I feel about you, and if calling you devastatingly pretty on air isn’t enough, that’s on you. I admit that confusing you may have been a little on purpose, but you have no idea how cute you are when you pout. But if you’re still feeling unsure, I think I can give you an idea of what ‘more’ means to me.”
Soobin snaps his hips up making Yeonjun jerk forward and suddenly they’re kissing again, gently at first but then his tongue is tracing Yeonjun’s lips and oh did he just bite him? Every fantasy Yeonjun has used to shamefully thrust into his hand pales in comparison to the real thing—Soobin is so warm and why is he so good at kissing? Why does he know how to swirl his tongue like that? Why did he know how to bite Yeonjun’s bottom lip enough to send blood shooting down his body? Yeonjun’s meant to be the hyung, barring a glaring lack of any actual romantic experience; an intense and supposedly unrequited five-year crush will do that to you. Yet his body is nearly going limp with pleasure, moulded to the curves of Soobin’s body.
He places a careful hand on Yeonjun’s hair, tilting his head so he can begin mouthing down the side of his neck, making Yeonjun shudder, weakly trying to rut against him. With each lick of Soobin’s tongue against his reddening skin, Yeonjun can feel his cock hardening and his brain short-circuiting.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, Soobin, Soobin, listen to me,” he chokes out, grabbing him by the cheeks only to be confronted by the fully blown-out pupils of the leader, eyebrows knitted together and arousal clear on his face.
He forces his hips to still, using every ounce of willpower he owns to stop chasing the delicious feeling of grinding against the man he’s wanted for over five years. Soobin looks at him in confusion, swollen lips threatening to snip the connection Yeonjun has to his prefrontal cortex, “Are you sure this is what you want? Me? Us? This isn’t going to be easy, are you sure?”
All the stuttered words Yeonjun has just blurted out could not be more different to what he truly wants, but he refuses to go into this blindly. He doesn’t want to just guess what Soobin wants; he’s already done too much of that.
Soobin quirks a lip corner up at his ever-responsible hyung, rearranging the both of them so that Yeonjun is lying comfortably on top of him, aside from the uncertainty creasing his forehead. He steals another peck from those pillowy lips, trying to smooth Yeonjun’s eyebrows apart as he attempts to articulate the depth of emotions he's harboured for the man without sounding like some lovesick loser.
“Okay, so I know this feels like it came from nowhere, but hyung, I know what I want. We don’t have to put any labels or whatever on it right now, but you need to know that what I want is you. I’ve wanted you for so long, probably longer than you've wanted me,” Soobin hums a bit, trying to figure out his next sentence without coming across as overly possessive.
“Even though I hate that I have to share you with the rest of the world, they do kinda deserve to see how beautiful you are. But I want this bit of you, the part no one else gets to see, the Choi Yeonjun who’s imperfect, the one I finally get to kiss, the one who wants to kiss me back. That’s the ‘more’ I’m talking about—it’s everything. I want everything about you,” he finishes and looks at Yeonjun expectantly.
That’s all Yeonjun needs to hear before he’s dipping down, hungry to close the gap between them. Somewhere in between Soobin sucking on his tongue, he realises that they’re both still clothed— the tragedy of it all —and he begins clawing at Soobin’s hoodie, trying to lift it as their erections rub together, making him whine pathetically. He needs to feel the skin under his fingers, beneath his lips. Soobin’s been doing all the touching tonight, and he finally, finally has his chance to go beyond the teasing fanservice they provide, at long last claiming ownership of the beautiful boy beneath him.
Soobin obliges him, though it takes a bit of work to wrench the hoodie over his head with a 183cm man on top of him. Yeonjun gasps appreciatively, pale skin and toned muscle finally bared to him. He wastes no time lowering himself down Soobin’s body, beginning to lick, bite, and suck as much skin as he can reach. Soobin is making all kinds of sounds; sounds that Yeonjun thinks he’s heard before through their thin walls, the guilt coursing through him as he shoves a hand down his pants. He feels punch-drunk, every moan escaping Soobin’s lips making his head spin and his underwear start to get uncomfortably tight. He continues downward, leaving a trail of red, wet marks that start to fade by the time he begins a new one.
“So pretty, so fucking pretty, you don’t know what you do to me, Soobin-ah. No idea how much I’ve wanted this,” Yeonjun breathes.
He feels like a dying man in a desert presented with an oasis; his veins going electric when he peers up to see Soobin looking completely wrecked. Panting heavily, fringe plastered to his forehead, and staring down at Yeonjun through heavy lids, looking totally fucked out despite his erection still laying heavy in his shorts. Soobin watches hungrily as Yeonjun makes his way down, down, down until he’s hovering uncertainly over the fabric separating a boundary they never thought they’d cross.
“Hyung, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he whispers, even though the desperation coiling white hot in his belly wants nothing more than Yeonjun’s plush lips around his cock.
Yeonjun rolls his eyes at Soobin, “For someone so sure of what he wants, you’re really bad at figuring out what I want. I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to suck your giant dick, which is, by the way, the first-ever dick to debut in my mouth.”
Soobin’s eyes widen at the revelation that they’re going to be each other’s firsts and the casual mention of his dick falling from his hyung’s pretty mouth. Before he can say anything, Yeonjun’s pulling impatiently at the elastic bands of the two offending articles of clothing and tugging them off, Soobin arching off the bed to make it easier.
When he lowers himself back down, Yeonjun is confronted by the intimidating sight of Soobin’s cock finally freed from its clothed constraints. He takes it in his hand, giggling when he hears Soobin’s breath hitch in his throat, white-knuckled from how hard he’s gripping the sheets. It’s already slick with pre-come, Yeonjun is amazed that a few kisses have gotten him this hard. Sometimes he doesn’t even understand the logistics of how Soobin fits into his pants, especially during their Good Boy Gone Bad era, where the tight jeans nearly cut off circulation in their legs.
Soobin can barely talk, even the feather-light feeling of Yeonjun holding him making every muscle in his body tense up. He rasps, “Yeonjun hyung if you don’t”—somehow finding the strength to throw air quotes up with his fingers—“let my dick debut soon, I’m going to debut all over your face.”
Yeonjun rolls his eyes for the second time of the day before enveloping the head of Soobin’s twitching cock with his mouth. Soobin has to screw his eyes shut tight so he doesn’t come immediately, the warm, wet heat making him realise he would probably never be able to use his own hand to jerk off ever again. Even just the tip already has Yeonjun’s lips stretched, as he tries to bob up and down like in every porn video he’s seen, popping back off to gauge Soobin’s reaction.
“Is this.. Does this feel good? Soobin-ah, you need to tell me if it does. Open your eyes for hyung,” Yeonjun’s whisper feathering all over Soobin’s cock, making it throb even more.
Soobin’s eyes fly open at the same time Yeonjun grips him harder, licking a fat stripe from the base all the way back up before he’s back to mouthing along the tip, blinking prettily at Soobin. He sucks in a breath, “You’re doing so good, hyung. Just go slower, take your— ah, fuck—”
At the encouragement, Yeonjun suddenly leaves his gag reflex with god, engulfing half of Soobin’s cock into his mouth, pumping the rest of it with his free hand. Soobin has to slam his hands over his head onto the headboard, gripping it so tight he hopes he doesn’t crack the wood. He risks a glance down and the sinful image alone of Yeonjun, drool dripping down the sides of his stretched-out lips, stretched out around his cock, has him spilling shamefully down his throat. Yeonjun pays no mind; milking him through the orgasm with his hands clamped down on the dips of Soobin’s hipbones as his body stutters through his release. When Soobin finally stills, Yeonjun smirks at him, licking the rest of the cum that he hadn’t quite managed to swallow, much to his horror (and delight).
Yeonjun knew blowjobs were supposed to be good, but he didn’t realise how much delight they’d also cause for the person giving them. The sensation of Soobin heavy in his mouth and shaking underneath him had skyrocketed his arousal so fast he’d needed to single-mindedly concentrate on breathing through his nose, determined not to pass out.
It was insane; the only time he’s finally been able to accurately read Soobin was through the widening of his tongue and the drag of his lips across the heated skin of his cock. When he’d felt the telltale tensing of Soobin’s stomach, he’d been prepared for the warm, salty release that had spurted into his throat. What he hadn’t been prepared for was how much he’d thoroughly enjoyed it; the moment the salt touched his tongue, it was like his skin had caught on fire and he had rolled his hips against the mattress, hungry for any sort of relief for his leaking erection.
Soobin’s chest heaves from the train of pleasure that just crashed through him, pulling Yeonjun up so he can kiss him, tasting traces of his own orgasm on those swollen, red lips. Yeonjun moans into his mouth, letting Soobin’s tongue explore his cum-slick teeth and gums as he starts grinding against his thigh. He nearly comes then and there when Soobin traces a hand down his stomach, between his shorts, and starts palming him through his already-soaked underwear. He grips Soobin’s shoulders so hard he knows it might bruise but he can’t focus on anything else but rutting against the warmth of the hand currently enveloping his cock.
Soobin murmurs into his neck, “That was so hot, hyung. Holy shit, I didn’t know you could even look like that, fuck. Hyung, let me make you prettier.”
Yeonjun doesn’t know what ‘prettier’ means until Soobin is nearly ripping his clothes off, and suddenly he’s so, so naked against the sheets, unable to do anything but cry out brokenly as he’s repositioned so he’s straddling the taller man, completely surrendering himself to Soobin’s mercy. While the marks Yeonjun had left on Soobin had almost faded to nothing, Soobin seemed intent on leaving a purple-red trail across the pale canvas of Yeonjun’s neck and torso; a trail that wouldn’t disappear for a good few weeks.
Yeonjun’s cock is pressed up against Soobin’s stomach, leaving glistening stains and throbbing with a need to be touched. He knows Soobin can feel it, yet he seems more invested in touching everything except what truly needs his attention. As addictive as it is to have Soobin worshipping him, he begins pleading breathlessly, dizzy with torturous pleasure.
“Soobin please, please, please, I need you, fuck, I can’t — ” and he feels Soobin smirk into his overheated flesh. In a flash, he’s unceremoniously manhandled onto his back, with Soobin purring over him, “I told you I wanted to make you prettier, you’re so needy, hyung. Tell me what you want. Say it louder.”
Yeonjun instantly wonders if he’s made a mistake, unsure if a sex addiction courtesy of Choi Soobin is something he wants in his portfolio. But then he looks at Soobin, his Soobin, with his inability to be anything but genuine, who is nosing along his sternum lovingly, and he manages a nearly incoherent, “Touch me, Soobin-ah. Please.”
Yeonjun holds his breath as Soobin takes his time, licking down until he’s face to face with a dusty pink, dripping cock. “So pretty,” he breathes, before he starts pumping up and down, making Yeonjun arch up, vision whiting out. It’s unfair how huge Soobin’s hands are but right now they may just have discovered their god-given use—gradually finding a rhythm that makes Yeonjun’s hips stutter uselessly; a far cry from the nearly militant way they usually did while he was dancing. Soobin keeps up the relentless pace, moving up so he can tongue his way back into Yeonjun’s mouth. It’s filthy, the sound of Yeonjun’s high-pitched moans and wet squelching filling every corner of the room. Sweat drips down Soobin’s forehead as he takes in the vision before him, his teary-eyed hyung losing all control of his body, back arching higher and higher off the bed. It allows Soobin to admire his handiwork, blooming bruises painted across flushing skin.
Yeonjun can feel the spring in his belly tensing further and further, Soobin’s murmured words of encouragement drawing him closer to the edge. Taking even him by surprise he cries out as his vision explodes with a supernova of colours, coming all over Soobin’s hand and his own stomach. His body spasms involuntarily as Soobin strokes him through the last shudders before his attention shifts to his hand with a newfound interest. He idly opens and closes his fingers, observing as the white translucent liquid forms rope-like strands between them.
Yeonjun narrows his eyes at him, “Having fun playing with my cum, you weirdo?” before he yelps as Soobin wipes his hand all over his chest. Soobin giggles and places a kiss on Yeonjun’s nose, making his fake annoyance melt away, “Sorry, everything is kind of surreal right now.”
He pulls Yeonjun close to him despite the sticky mess they’d both created and smiles wide, making it feel like a cyclone of butterflies is trying to escape through his chest. He can barely believe what has just happened, wondering if his brain has finally lost it and just created the most impressive hallucination on earth. The greatest enigma of his life has just given him an unfairly good handjob and that same enigma’s cock was quite recently in his mouth! He’s surprised he can’t hear whirring with how intensely his brain is working to process the reality of the past few hours’ events.
His thoughts are rudely interrupted when Soobin pokes him in the forehead, “Yeonjun hyung, I think smoke is going to come out of your ears.”
He punctuates his poke with a kiss to Yeonjun's forehead, making him visibly soften.
"Soobin-ah, as much as I'd love to explain in detail what's on my mind, I'm sticky as fuck. You're sticky as fuck. I think we need another shower, and unfortunately, I'm the one who has to sleep in this bed, so the sheets need to go.”
Before Soobin can voice his agreement, his phone vibrates, signalling an incoming text. He reaches for it, squinting in the blinding light and laughs. Yeonjun peeks at the message curiously, seeing it’s from Taehyun.
ㄱ TAEHYUNNIE | 11.07오후
Soobin hyung? Are y'all done? I don't care if you've both fucked or not, we're all freezing and your ice cream bribe money can only last so long. We’re coming baaaack!
Yeonjun stares at the message, eyes wider than dinner plates, before screeching, "YOU TOLD THEM? THE KIDS KNOW??" and smacking Soobin on the head.
Soobin yelps, grabbing both of Yeonjun's wrists easily in one hand and holding him down (something that is most definitely going to be explored in the future), "Of course, they know! I mean, not about the fucking! But I think it was pretty easy to assume, you've been eyeing me like I'm some sort of mint chocolate dessert since the comeback started."
Yeonjun scoffs even though the pink flushing through his cheeks promptly betrays him, “I— excuse me ?! I think NOT! I wasn’t eyeing you! I’m not some sort of dirty old man—”
Before he can continue defending himself, he’s scooped up bridal-style by a grinning Soobin who magically has clothes on again, “Old man you’re not, but dirty you definitely are. If we don’t shower within the next ten minutes, the kids are going to walk through that door and I doubt you want them to see you like this, baby.”
Baby. He called me ‘baby’. Yeonjun covers his face with his hands, now fiery red, and lets Soobin carry him to the bathroom. One quick shower later, they’re back in Yeonjun’s room on top of clean sheets as the sounds of the younger members slowly filter through. It sets an overtone of familiarity that gradually melds with the realisation of the borderline they’ve just crossed. It’s magnified by the fact that they’re both tangled up in each other on the bed, Soobin’s arms wrapped around Yeonjun’s waist as Yeonjun helps himself to endless kisses, making up for lost time. Soobin is only too happy to oblige him, pulling him so close they’re practically chest to chest.
After what feels like an eternity of languid lip-locking, Soobin pulls back to study a deliciously drowsy Yeonjun whose lips are looking even more cherry-like than usual. He blinks at Soobin in confusion, making him chuckle softly before he explains, “As much as I’m thoroughly enjoying finally being able to kiss you, we do need to talk about what we’re going to do, hyung. I know I said we didn’t have to label ourselves but.. Can I at least confirm we’re together together?”
Yeonjun begins absent-mindedly patting Soobin’s butt, a habit formed from long ago. He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, “Soobin-ah, you know they say that crushes are nothing but a lack of information. Once you get to know the person, you generally lose interest. But I’ve been living with you for years and the only thing that’s happened is me growing more obsessed with you. I’ve seen pretty much every side of you; the quiet way you express your love, the way you wear your heart on your sleeve, the way you dream both small and big.” He pauses, blinking in shock when he realises tears have started to form at the corner of his eyes.
Soobin moves in close to kiss them away and strokes Yeonjun’s cheek softly, waiting for him to continue. Taking another breath to bring back his composure, Yeonjun steals another peck and lets out a nervous laugh, “Okay, ha, wasn’t expecting the tears! But okay! I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m pretty much in love with you. Soobin-ah, I’m not sure I can be with anyone else if… hoh boy… if it isn’t you. Ew, that was cheesy. Stop looking at me like that!”
Indeed Soobin is gazing at him with so much affection in his eyes that it’s a little like staring into the sun. The LP player is gently crooning out a song that Soobin recommended, somehow more proof that whatever they were was always going to be inevitable; like trying to stop the ocean tides pulling towards the moon. Yeonjun can barely keep eye contact with Soobin, unaware eyeballs could even vibrate at the magnitude his currently were. The bed creaks as Soobin pulls him even closer, practically crushing him against his chest. All the air escapes Yeonjun’s lungs, breathlessly floating over a precipice of something he’d never dared to hope for. It’s real though, he reminds himself, he’s just sappily proclaimed his love for the boy who’s towered over his height and his heart for years. The same boy who is holding him so tight it feels like they’re sharing one skin, hearts beating in sync.
Finally, Soobin loosens his grip on Yeonjun after they’ve been breathing in silence for a few minutes. Soobin in make-up is already a devastating beast to contend with but Soobin at home; lit by warm lights, with nothing but chapstick on his lips and smelling like laundry detergent. That’s when he’s most beautiful, the version of him that disconcerts Yeonjun with its domesticity. It’s this Soobin who pinches his cheek, reassuring him with a smile and a kiss placed nearly devoutly on his palm.
He smooths the frown that’s taking form on Yeonjun’s face, “You can’t stop me staring at you. I’ve already told you how pretty you are, do you think I’m not going to take every opportunity to admire what’s mine? Hyung, I think the most normal thing we can call ourselves is ‘boyfriends,’ but you’re so much more to me than just that. Like you said very passionately, I don’t want anyone else either if it isn’t you. If you love me, I love you just as much.”
There it is, said with as much honesty as the compliment he’d given Yeonjun during the radio show. Heart-achingly honest in the way only Soobin can be so that Yeonjun knows he means every single word said. Maybe not knowing everything Soobin is thinking isn’t entirely bad, he muses, the spontaneity and surprise of these moments giving rise to a delectably honey-sweet feeling in his veins.
A whole other world of uncertainty is headed their way, but somehow Yeonjun doesn’t have it in him to be scared. It’s hard to be, with Soobin murmuring affectionately into his neck while Yeonjun tangles fingers through his hair. What an interesting balance he’s going to have to keep—between wanting to shout to the world about finally getting the boy of his dreams to keeping it close to his chest, a secret shielded from harm. For now, he’s content with the easy acceptance they’d gotten from the members he considers his family. The way they’d cheered and jeered as they tumbled through the door had made him chortle, with Beomgyu raising his eyebrows suggestively at the speed of light, Taehyun telling them they’d bought extra ice cream, and Hueningkai cooing at them as if they were two of his beloved plush toys.
For now, the room is dark, they have work tomorrow, and there is frenzied yelling outside in the living room that is climbing in volume.
It’s perfect.