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The club pulses like it’s alive. Neon lights strobe overhead, cutting through the fog cloaking the dancefloor, red and cyan slashing over sweat-slick bodies in time with the music. The floor vibrates underfoot, bass thrumming through Wonwoo’s boots, crawling up his spine and settling there like a second heartbeat.
Earlier, Soonyoung had pressed a small blue pill into his palm with a conspiratorial grin.
“Just something to take the edge off,” he’d said. “Mild. Promise.”
Wonwoo doesn’t usually indulge, but it’s been a long week, and tonight, his skull feels too tight. He wants out of his own head just for a little while.
Now the drug runs through him, turning his blood to liquid silk. His skin hums and his teeth itch. When he turns his head, the lights smear like wet paint, leaving trails like comet tails in his vision. The world feels dreamlike, as though reality might tear if he moves too fast.
Soonyoung tried dragging him onto the dancefloor after, but Wonwoo had already hit his limit for humoring chaos incarnate in leather pants. He’d waved him off, content to perch on the edge of the throng and watch the room melt.
But now Soonyoung’s back, tugging on his wrist and shouting over the glitching synth blaring through the speakers about how “Mingyu is here. You have to meet him. Trust me. You’ll thank me.”
Wonwoo barely has time to roll his eyes before Soonyoung drags him through the sea of bodies toward the bar.
A man stands at the far end of the counter, beer in hand, his grin widening when he spots Soonyoung. He is tall and broad, with bubblegum-pink hair and lip piercings that catch every flash of light. He bounces slightly on his feet, beaming like he is thrilled just to be here. There is something charming about his size and the way he carries himself, large and bright-eyed and vibrating with earnestness.
Soonyoung may be a pain in the ass a lot of the time but he certainly has Wonwoo’s type pegged.
“Mingyu, this is Wonwoo,” Soonyoung yells, pressing them together. “Wonwoo, this is Mingyu. Have fun!”
With a wink, Soonyoung disappears back into the crowd like some kind of evil cupid in cyberpunk attire whose work is done.
Mingyu doesn’t waste time. He’s already leaning in, eyes wide and a little wild.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, sharp canines peeking out from behind his lips. “You’re hot.”
Wonwoo blinks, thrown but not put off. He could say the same.
“So,” Mingyu scratches the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to Wonwoo’s mouth. “Do you wanna...”
They’re kissing before he finishes the question.
Wonwoo is not even sure who moved first. One minute he is staring at that enthusiastic smile, and the next, his hands are fisted in Mingyu’s shirt with Mingyu’s tongue jammed so far down his throat it’s like he’s trying to taste whatever he had for breakfast. They stumble into a dark corner, half-hidden behind a fog machine, and Mingyu presses in close, moving shamelessly against his thigh and making little punched-out noises against his mouth.
Wonwoo lets it happen. Lets this stranger come apart over nothing. Heat builds between his own legs, and his pulse flutters, picking up pace. His cock stirs, half-hard already and getting harder by the second. The speed of the night feels surreal, but it is exactly what he wants. There is no time to think. Perfect.
When Mingyu finally pulls back, breathless and dazed, it’s only to pant, “Bathroom?”
Wonwoo nods. He's curious to see how far this eagerness goes.
⋅٠ ‧ ˖ ･ • ˖
The bathroom is gross. Dim yellow light flickers from a dying bulb overhead, and the tile is smeared with mildew and who-knows-what. One sink is cracked, the other gurgling despite the faucet being off. There is a puddle in the corner that Wonwoo deliberately doesn't look closely at.
But the room is empty, and the second they step inside, Mingyu reaches back and slides the lock on the door into place with his thumb.
Wonwoo leans against the sink, the cold porcelain pressing into his lower back, and Mingyu immediately drops to his knees.
“Can I?” he asks, already mouthing at the front of Wonwoo’s jeans. “Please?”
Wonwoo doesn’t answer. He just unzips.
It’s filthy from the start. Loud and wet. Spit dribbles from the corner of Mingyu’s mouth as he bobs his head, one hand squeezing the shaft, the other steady on Wonwoo’s thigh. His lip ring drags against the underside of Wonwoo’s cock with every pass, and Wonwoo hisses as his hips stutter forward.
Mingyu moans like he’s grateful just to have a dick in his throat, eyes gazing up like he’s waiting for approval.
“Mmm, just like that,” Wonwoo mutters, fingers threading into the pink hair. “You’re... fuck... you’re really good at this.”
Mingyu whimpers and then pulls back just far enough to pant against the head.
“You taste so good. I can’t stop.”
And he doesn’t stop. He sucks him back in deeper, choking himself on it. It's obvious praise seems to flip a switch in his brain, making him even more desperate to prove himself.
Wonwoo's knees threaten to give. His body goes hot and weightless. The little blue pill catches fire in his bloodstream, making his nerves sing and turning every brush of Mingyu’s tongue into lightning.
He is close, his hips jerking and his hand tightening in Mingyu’s hair, when Mingyu suddenly pulls off with a gasp. His chest heaves, his lips and chin shiny and slick.
“I need to fuck you,” he blurts out. “Can I fuck you? Please let me fuck you.”
Wonwoo’s brain lags, thoughts swimming like fish in syrup. He blinks down at him, dazed.
“Yeah,” he says. Then again, hoarser: “Yeah.”
Mingyu surges to his feet, fumbling for his wallet with trembling hands. He digs out a condom, tears it open, and rolls it on in seconds. He kisses Wonwoo the whole time, like he’s trying to apologize for wanting too much.
Wordlessly, Wonwoo turns around, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink. His pants are shoved down around his thighs, his cock still heavy and twitching. The mirror in front of him is cracked and smeared with grime, showing a wrecked reflection of swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and wide pupils.
Behind him, Mingyu shifts closer. One hand grips his hip, the other guides his cock between his cheeks, lining up at the entrance. The breach burns, the stretch searing. Wonwoo groans, knocking against the mirror with a dull thunk .
But Mingyu’s surprisingly gentle. He caresses the small of Wonwoo’s back with a big, warm hand and eases in slowly, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes, voice strained. “You feel—shit, I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You’re fine,” Wonwoo grits out. “Move.”
Mingyu obeys.
He fucks him slow at first, using deep, dragging thrusts that make Wonwoo bite his fist to keep quiet. The wet sound of their bodies slapping together echoes off the tile.
After setting a steady rhythm, Mingyu leans in, pressing the heat of his body into Wonwoo’s back. One hand finds the edge of the sink beside his to brace himself, while the other slips under Wonwoo's shirt. His knuckles drag over his chest before pinching one nipple between two fingers.
Wonwoo gasps, his hips jerking.
It all feels so depraved, and Mingyu fucks him like he knows it.
“You’re so hot,” he pants into Wonwoo’s ear. “Letting me do this, letting me see you like this… fuck …”
Wonwoo laughs, breathless. He should probably feel ashamed. Bent over a disgusting club bathroom sink, high out of his mind, taking a stranger’s cock like he was made for it. But he doesn’t. He just feels full and incredible.
He makes a mental note to thank Soonyoung.
Then all thought leaves him as Mingyu picks up the pace.
The thrusts turn sharp and relentless. Every push shoves Wonwoo up the sink, and every pull drags him back down. Mingyu keeps hitting the same electric place inside him, until his whole body sings with the friction.
His hand scrambles down to stroke himself, desperate for contact, but Mingyu wraps an arm around from behind and bats it away.
“Let me,” he murmurs.
His fist closes around Wonwoo’s cock, warm and tight, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. His thumb slides through the wetness at the head, smearing it down the shaft and stroking faster. Wonwoo's toes curl.
The double sensation is dizzying. Mingyu’s cock pounds into him while his hand pumps his dick and there's nothing in Wonwoo's but static and heat and aching pleasure that crests higher and higher until…
Wonwoo comes hard, his body seizing up. His mouth falls open, releasing a long, shuddering breath before a moan rips free. He bites his cheek to stifle the sound, his hips jerking as he spills over Mingyu’s fist and the edge of the sink. His knees buckle, and the only thing keeping him upright is Mingyu’s arm locked tight around his waist.
The aftershocks hit like waves while he sags forward, whimpering and blinking through the haze.
Mingyu groans behind him, a ragged sound torn from his chest as he thrusts deeper to chase his own end.
Then he comes too, burying himself deep and grinding through it. His whole body stiffens, and his arm tightens around Wonwoo’s waist to hold him right there. He pants against the back of his neck, fucking through the last few pulses before he finally stills.
Outside, someone bangs on the door and the handle rattles violently. Wonwoo jumps.
“C’mon, assholes. I gotta to piss!”
Mingyu pulls out with a soft gasp and an even softer, “Sorry.”
"Don't be." Wonwoo laughs, still breathless and tingling all over. He glances over his shoulder. “You were great.”
Mingyu beams at him, flushed and stupidly handsome.
“It was really nice to meet you,” he says, his voice earnest.
“You too.”
Mingyu grabs a handful of paper towels, clumsily wipes himself off, and zips up.
“We should, uh, do this again sometime?”
Wonwoo glances around the bathroom. Something drips from the ceiling, and he scrunches his nose.
"Right. Maybe somewhere else?" Mingyu’s grin turns sheepish. “Soonyoung has my number,” he adds.
Wonwoo tugs his jeans back up, his body still buzzing. Was it the drug that made this feel so good? Or was it just… this guy?
He unlocks the door and reaches for the handle.
“Maybe I’ll ask him for it.”
Mingyu’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Wonwoo pulls the door open and steps out. The man waiting glares at him as he shoulders past.
“All yours,” Wonwoo says with a smirk.
He heads back out into the pulse of the club, scanning the crowd for Soonyoung. His brain feels fuzzy, thoughts spinning, but it's not unpleasant.
Was it the high? Or was it just Mingyu?
Wonwoo grins to himself.
He definitely plans to find out.