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I.
Hyunjin sometimes feels like a pervert.
He sits and watches as Felix eats a very ripe peach; his mouth is glossy, juices drip down his chin and along his small fingers. They’re probably all sticky now. All of him is. Sticky and sweet and so oblivious to it all, but most of all to Hyunjin’s wishes, his fantasies. How he yearns to sink his teeth into Felix’s soft skin, lap the sweetness off him like dew drops.
But, Felix is innocent and he remains oblivious to it as he throws away the core and pushes his fingers into his mouth, lapping up the juice left behind by his messy eating habits. To Hyunjin, Felix is most beautiful in moments like these; where his beauty is simply a small byproduct of his existence, where he’s careless and slouching and barefaced. Unguarded. Guileless. There’s an untouched innocence in this, too.
And Hyunjin feels like a pervert because he studies him so closely, keeps an eagle’s eye on every shift, every bit of exposed skin. His thighs in Seungmin’s baseball shorts, his bare shoulders and arms and the hint of a nipple peeking through as he drowns in Jeongin’s tank top.
Venom warms his stomach, his bloodstream. It pumps hot and acrid and whispers desires in his heart. It won’t hurt Hyunjin, who feels much like a snake in that moment, much like the source of the venom, but a single drop, a single touch, can taint Felix. Hyunjin swallows it down as it rises, takes measured breaths to ignore the flutter of his heart and the warmth that drives sweat to his forehead, his upper lip. He’s dressed in a hoodie and loose sweats, but it’s easier to keep the heat trapped underneath too thick fabric than to expose the redness of his skin, or the goosebumps that follow Felix’s pleased little hums.
For the moment, Felix still remains ignorant, sucking his thumb into his mouth and removing it with a wet noise that burns like fire and leaves a trail of shivers down the back of Hyunjin’s neck. Hyunjin shifts where he’s sitting opposite him on the table and catches Seungmin’s attention. That is reason for worry because while Felix remains unaware, his guard dog does not.
“Yongbok-ah,” he chides gently and reaches over to take a hold of Felix. Seungmin’s hand easily encases his wrist, his forearm, and touch starved as Felix always is, he puts a sticky, small hand on top of Seungmin’s. Hyunjin wonders if it’s warm, if his skin is soft, if the scent of peaches lingers on him, and if Seungmin also fantasises of biting his pink fingertips until he’s crying. It doesn’t seem so, judging by the careful and always measured touches. Seungmin treats Felix with a unique care; not unique because he cares, but for the way he does it. Like polishing a porcelain cup and placing it right back into a cupboard, where it can be spied behind the milky glass, but never touched.
Seungmin’s words are always so tender when directed at Felix, even when he says, “I told you that’s dirty. Just go wash your hands if you’re done eating.” Felix pouts and mumbles something Hyunjin can’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears, the thunderous thud of his treacherous heart. Then Felix rises from his curled position on the chair and pulls Hyunjin’s eyes towards his honeyed skin, towards that one beauty mark that hides high up on the inside of his left thigh. Seungmin’s hand is still on him, tugging, then shooing Felix off in the direction of their bathroom before his eyes return to Hyunjin. There’s no judgment there, but something worse, something hardened like stone. Something final. Resolve.
“Pervert,” he says, in that usual, soft voice. It feels like burning iron, anyway, blistering and boiling the skin of his ears and face, no doubt flushed with heat. And Seungmin is right because sometimes Hyunjin does feel like a pervert and he sits with the shame and his red ears as Seungmin stares, like a dog guarding a flock, one that spotted the snake slithering at the edges of his territory.
In a way, Hyunjin is glad for it. Seungmin is keeping their little lamb exactly the way Hyunjin likes him best; coddled, naive, and so sickeningly sweet. Tender, untouched. He remains unaware of Hyunjin’s eyes on him, unaware of his interest, or his intentions. Felix returns with his lips red and no longer sticky, he smiles with all his teeth and doesn’t feel the smooth coil around his ankles.
II.
Felix is wrapped in satin and silk and shielded from everything; up until the very moment he isn’t. Because there are times where Hyunjin manages to catch Felix alone, when his guard dog has left its station and leaves Felix behind, sitting on the sun-bathed meadow like a lamb waiting for slaughter. Not that Hyunjin ever would. While he dreams of sinking his teeth in, he never would take too much. In truth, he doesn’t want to take at all, doesn’t want to taint, but despite Hyunjin’s best attempts, the venom rises from low in his stomach, past his heart and all the way into his mouth where he can taste it. Sweet as ripe peaches.
Felix’s head rests on his shoulder, his small hands rhythmically, distractedly, squeezing Hyunjin’s forearm and two of his fingers. Hyunjin’s hand rests over the bared skin of his thigh, looking small on its own, but even tinier beneath his touch. Felix is pressed close to him and he radiates heat and smells like honey when Hyunjin’s nose brushes the top of his little, golden head.
The sound of bullets resonates loudly as the main character in the movie they’re watching starts shooting and Felix flinches, then presses his knees together, trapping Hyunjin’s pinky between his thighs. He fights a shiver. Dips his fingers between the skin under the guise of a soothing caress.
“Did that scare you?” he asks and shocks himself with how gravely his own voice sounds. The heat of the venom has risen to his mouth, turning the tip of his tongue numb. Hyunjin wonders if his words are dipped in it, if the venom that drips past his teeth lands on Felix, like drops of blood on pure white snow.
“No,” he mumbles in response, but presses his small nose against Hyunjin’s collarbones, then shifts his legs to rest them on top of Hyunjin’s thigh. His body curls against Hyunjin’s with a content little sigh and he’s oblivious to the hand that has dipped fully between his thighs, curled around one of his legs and snuck under the fabric of his shorts.
The fantasy in Hyunjin stirs.
It’s worse that Felix doesn’t seem to get it, worse because he’s vulnerable and open and makes it so easy for touches that border on inappropriate to linger, to trace the seam of clothes, to tease the edges of exposed skin. Felix melts under each and every one of them, feeling indulged and pleased that someone is allowing him to get his fill of physical affection. It doesn’t occur to him that Hyunjin has an ulterior motive.
He inhales deeply, fills his lungs with the sweetness of honey and the traces of sunlight that always seem to linger on Felix’s skin and gives the flesh beneath his fingers a squeeze, saying, “It’s okay, Yongbok. Hyung will protect you.” The answering laugh is an amused giggle that rings sweet like tiny bells chime. Felix tilts his head until he’s studying Hyunjin’s face and Hyunjin does his best to appear nonchalant, to appear like the venom hasn’t risen and he isn’t coiled tight and waiting to sink his teeth in.
“Now you’re Hyung again?” Felix asks, but he doesn’t seem averse and the natural way the words form in his mouth makes Hyunjin more daring.
“When we’re alone, I can be your Hyung.” His whisper is as good as any siren call, as effective as any temptation. Hyunjin knows this, can see it in the alertness that has taken over Felix’s face, the interest in his eyes and how his body seems to grow more pliant, more sweet. Then he questions, “Don’t I always take care of you?”
In an action that’s rather coy, Felix averts his gaze and an endearing blush blooms in soft roses and peonies on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Hyunjin wishes he could crack him open and drink up his thoughts, taste the pure sweetness of clean ozone, have those teasing words his innocent mind can muster melt on the tip of his tongue like candied, dried petals. You do, Felix mumbles, like Hyunjin knew he would, and there’s something oddly dirty, in his mouth and on his tongue as he smiles and reaches out his other hand to pet across the back of Felix’s head. Just as a Hyung would. “Then you should be good and address me like that, okay?”
Felix doesn’t have firm boundaries, which makes it so easy to push past the flimsy silk he has wrapped around himself, to coil around his limbs instead. Hyunjin gets a taste of the forbidden fruit and wants more; though the need to keep it as shiny and polished as it is remains. It wouldn’t do to take too much at once. It wouldn’t do to gobble it up whole, no. Hyunjin needs to be content with the occasional nibble, the slow seduction of a snake’s coil around its victim and every time they’re alone, he slinks and slithers closer.
III.
“Do you want to give Hyung a kiss?” he whispers against the dewy skin of Felix’s cheek and drinks up the chaste peck against his lips that follows with the awaiting maw of a beast. His fingers trail along the inside of Felix’s thigh, but never too far up, then along his side, up until the point where his shoulder blade presses against his skin like a tucked in angel’s wing.
Felix is curled against Hyunjin’s side, in Hyunjin’s bed, safe and sweet as can be, yet he still flinches and tenses when fingertips brush the inside of his smooth armpit. Then he whines and twists when Hyunjin doesn’t pull away, but remains trapped in the warmth of his skin. Murmurs out a sweet, little Hyung that makes Hyunjin’s heart soar and his dick twitch. It’s easy to ask things of Felix when he’s like this. So easy when he wants to please and they’re all alone and Hyunjin doesn’t have to do much, but keep all touches light and teasing, just bordering on platonic, on friendly.
“Ticklish, Yongbok?” He presses firmer into the softness of Felix’s skin and up, wiggling his fingers, then feels breathless as the answering whimper turns into something akin to a moan. Hyunjin wonders if Felix notices how hot he’s grown and that his fingers are trembling as he wraps them around both of his wrists to keep him helpless and pinned.
“Hyung, stop,” Felix begs, obedient to Hyunjin’s wish from a few weeks ago, of how he wants to be addressed, how Felix should refer to him in the hushed intimacy of their togetherness. His breath is warm and wet against Hyunjin’s throat, his jaw. It makes him turn his head until their noses brush and Hyunjin easily ignores the bubbling of venom in his blood and the wilfulness it drives, the repercussions he knows this will have.
“If you want me to stop, you need to give Hyung another kiss,” he whispers. Light and airy and teasing, like this is all still a joke, like there’s not much more to it than playfulness between friends. Felix has kissed him more than once by now, but this time when his lips press warm and plush against Hyunjin’s, he doesn’t allow him to pull back immediately, but chases him with teeth. Pressed this close together, Hyunjin can feel the full body shudder that runs through Felix, can tell where his heart flutters and speeds up. With his wrists still pinned, he can’t wiggle away, not that he’s trying to, and, as promised, Hyunjin’s fingers pull away from his armpit and move to the back of his head.
Felix is trapped; beneath Hyunjin’s teeth, in his hold. The seam of his lips parts for his tongue even as he trembles and his skin burns with timidity and inexperience. His kiss tastes like the strawberry candy he ate and is not very good, sort of clumsy, way too hesitant. Hyunjin finds it perfect. Felix remains unmoving and overwhelmed as Hyunjin indulges and takes and drinks from him, leaving behind a poisoned well, the first drops of venom in otherwise clear waters.
Hyunjin releases him to a trembling and confused exhale, his fingers pressing into the back of Felix’s neck and feeling the rabbit-paced flutter of his heartbeat.
“What—?” Felix mumbles, and Hyunjin feels his quickly emerging embarrassment in his rapid, wet breaths, the twitching of his thighs and feels almost drunk on it. Heat radiates off his skin, burning and flaring and feeding into Hyunjin’s depravity. Because he has caused this, keeps causing this, when he nudges a knee between Felix’s. It’s still too low to be considered anything but innocent, but persistent enough to feel the parting of where Felix’s skin has grown sticky with sweat and heat.
“Didn’t you say you dream of kissing the members before? Hyung just made your dream come true, Yongbok-ah. Say ‘thank you’,” Hyunjin says, pressing one more chaste kiss against the corner of Felix’s mouth.
“Thank you,” he echoes immediately, thoughtlessly. His eyes are huge and dark and round like a fawn’s and he’s looking up at Hyunjin, freckles a bright constellation against his rose petal blush.
It makes Hyunjin want to sink his teeth into him and never let go. To sink his fingers further between his legs and watch the way he twitches and twists, overwhelmed and lost and clinging to Hyunjin for reassurance and guidance. Felix doesn’t need to tell Hyunjin that he’s a virgin, that he lacks experience. It’s so easy to see from his demeanour, his words and his coy little glances whenever they watch a movie with kisses, or whenever some of the other guys talk about their latest escapades. Felix always remains quiet, and zeroed in on him as Hyunjin has always been, it’s easy to notice his discomfort, his daze. Seungmin knows too, he’s pretty sure, and that’s why he keeps a close eye on Hyunjin, why he pulls Felix away and into different conversations when what the others are saying becomes too explicit.
Because Felix is pure like that. Like the freshly fallen snow or a single white feather from a turtle dove. Hyunjin can’t even fault Seungmin for wanting to keep him this way, doesn’t blame him for his guard dog instincts to protect. Just as he can’t blame himself for his wants and needs because it is simply in a snake’s instinct to devour. Felix is stuck in the middle, seized up but not yet ready for the first bite, as Hyunjin waits and takes his perverse satisfaction out of his endless naiveté. The sweetness of his unconscious submission to Hyunjin’s wishes and fantasies.
And Hyunjin is a pervert, he takes immense joy from the way Felix gives to him, how he opens up. Small and trembling in his hold, yes, but trusting, too, because Hyunjin has promised to take care of him and he always has.
The nibbles he takes from that perfectly polished apple are inconsequential, so minuscule that they can barely be traced, certainly not seen. Seungmin’s attentive eyes spot no change in Felix, still only see his immaculately white wool. He doesn’t see the traces that Hyunjin’s touches have left behind, where the temptation has started to colour him red in parts. Red like blood, like heat, like the soft inside of his mouth that Hyunjin revisits often.
IV.
With the blinds down and the curtains drawn, he lures Felix into the cozy warmth of his room and the safe haven of his bed.
Felix tells him he loves to be there, loves tracing his fingers across spines of neatly organised books, or the drying texture paint leaves behind on his latest canvas. He’s barefaced and amicable in the warm lamp light, after Hyunjin has fed him, indulged him with desserts and little touches along his elbow, his wrist, the back of his neck. By now Felix has grown used to the contact, barely twitches, barely flushes, as Hyunjin watches him lick cream and chocolate off his tiny, pink fingers. Then he puts on music or a movie and tucks them both into bed, where Felix feels protected enough to open up, to whisper thoughts and secrets and worries. Hyunjin listens, but his fingers are straying, are slithering and curling and coiling. They’re around Felix’s arm, his waist, his small ankle. He pulls Felix half on top of himself and feels where he’s always so warm on the inside of his thigh, high up between his legs.
They’re tangled together so closely that when the music falls into a quieter hush and Felix’s voice has grown tired with words, Hyunjin traces a thumb across his cheek and kisses him. Softly, at first. Tenderly and carefully. They’re chaste little pecks that Felix has easily shared, that he’s grown so comfortable with. Until the first one lingers and Felix doesn’t pull back, but stays right there with their lips pressed together like he wants more, but doesn’t know how to ask, how to initiate. It makes Hyunjin twitch against the warmth of Felix’s thigh to feel his lips immediately part for his tongue and the tremble of his chest as he licks along the roof of his mouth.
Unguarded as he is, Felix is surprisingly vocal. He moans his enjoyment into Hyunjin’s greedy mouth, whines and pants and gasps for breath as fingers trace his spine, then further and further down. The skin of Felix’s back is smooth and flower petal soft and he doesn’t flinch when Hyunjin’s fingers dip past the waistband of his sweatpants and rest above the dimples of his back. The cotton beneath his hand is lacy and soft and Hyunjin doesn’t stop to wonder, but traces the edge with his fingertips before trailing his touch further up again. Felix’s sides are sensitive enough to make him shrink the further up Hyunjin’s fingers go. An action that he ignores in favour of wrapping his hand around where his ribs expand and fall with the small and quick flutter of a songbird. Still, Felix pulls away and when he says Hyung, the single word drips with the reverence and diffidence of a prayer.
When Hyunjin has pressed enough kisses on him, Felix’s voice pitches so sweetly, twirls and dances high in octave and cadence. The hunger in Hyunjin grows; not just to sink his teeth finally into the fruit, to eat him whole, but to truly and fully consume him. He fantasises of the day where he presses inside of Felix and listens to his begging, his moans and cries as he comes undone under Hyunjin. For Hyunjin. A picture tainted red.
His fingers graze a pebbled nipple and Felix flinches once again, his thighs tensing against where Hyunjin has grown hot and noticeably hard. His own fingers tremble, but he presses his mouth back against Felix to interrupt the question that has started to form, teasing his skin instead, tickling between his ribs then further up again. The inside of his armpit is warm and smooth and it’s easy to imagine it’s something else when he presses his fingers into the giving skin. Despite tensing and twisting against the action, Felix allows Hyunjin every forward touch, every transgression that has toed way past any platonic lines because Hyunjin only grows harder and Felix only sweeter, caught where he lies between the tips of his sharp teeth. Felix’s lips have started blooming red from each of Hyunjin’s bites, from where he has sunk traces of that venom and turned it into heat, made Felix swallow it. The rest of him follows, unfolding like the petals of a rose. Red from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his sternum that Hyunjin’s hands expose. Felix allows all of it; allows Hyunjin to tug on his shirt, pull it off him, then tug him back into the warmth trapped between the space of their bodies.
He makes no move to pull away, his hips giving shy little twitches against the jutting bones of Hyunjin’s hips as Felix breathes wet and hot into his mouth. The sounds that leave him are overwhelmed and helpless and Hyunjin thinks of pressing him into the sheets, their hands intertwined, him moving between Felix’s still clothed legs. He thinks about taking the first proper bite and maybe leaving the first lasting, obvious trace. Felix clearly seems ready for it; despite the way he trembles, he turns eager and greedy against Hyunjin’s lips. That’s why Hyunjin decides to push.
It’s easy to play into what Felix wants and what he needs. It’s easier still for Hyunjin who has listened to every whispered confession that was shared in his dimmed room, where Felix has professed his innocence like a sin. It’s so easy because while Felix wants, he also fears and worries about his pristine white coat. And under the guise of keeping it intact, there’s few things easier than whispering solutions with a forked tongue.
It’s not sex, he promises against the heated skin of Felix’s cheek. You’d still stay pure, he tempts and withholds himself the joy of grinding against the crease where Felix’s hip meets his crotch when Felix agrees, easy as anything.
Hyunjin lays him down against crisp white sheets that crease and twist beneath his back like feathers of wings. His skin is littered in freckles; they kiss his chest and trail up to his shoulders and arms that Felix obediently rests above his head, just like he’d been told. He looks like something holy, or like a sacrificial lamb stretched out on an altar.
Even before he has hurriedly pushed his sweats and underwear down, Hyunjin is hard. It’s not dirty, he tells Felix, tells himself, his dick in his hand and his strokes lazy. He’s kneeling above Felix, knees caging in his little, fluttering chest, tinted red all the way down to his cute bellybutton. You’re still innocent, he gasps the words, his eyes flickering between the smooth skin in front of him, the plump vibrance of Felix’s mouth and his dark, round eyes. Felix remains obediently still, obediently quiet. His fingers are so pink, trembling where they grip at each other and his breathing is so loud, tentative and timid as it ricochets in Hyunjin’s skull.
Hyunjin watches the way his mouth moves; maybe it shapes words, maybe there are sounds hidden somewhere, meanings twisted with a sweet tongue, but all Hyunjin can pick apart is the word ‘Hyung’. His body grows taut, tense. One of his hands rests against the halo of golden hair, twisting in the white sheets, amongst the soft strands.
My sweet angel, Hyunjin mumbles, ultimately, as he trembles and spills across Felix’s shoulder and armpit. Felix remains still as Hyunjin dips shaky fingers into his cum and paints a path downward; past the ticklish skin of his armpit, past the quick flutter of his chest and down to his bellybutton. Pretty as a picture and with the reverence of an icon, the white stands in a stark contrast against the vibrant red of him.
V.
Kim Seungmin is watching him. He often is.
Sometimes he watches Felix, too, but it’s always a softened gaze, always with careful fingers on his shoulder and around his wrist. Always with sweetened words, a forgiving and benevolent tone that Felix drinks in as rapaciously as ever.
Because Felix is innocent and he’s pure and that needs to be protected and shielded. He needs to be tended to, like a flower before bloom, or the smallest amongst a flock of blameless sheep.
Hyunjin doesn’t blame Seungmin for trying, or for thinking he’s succeeding. Because Felix is still guileless, bright eyed and shy and saintly. He’s still the guard dog’s little white lamb and because the dog’s perception is clouded with affection, he doesn’t see the red that started bleeding all along his side.
VI.
You should come over, Hyunjin tells Felix late one evening. Come over, play with hyung.
He arrives with a breathlessness that speaks of excitement and reeks of ardor. His small shoulders tremble under Hyunjin’s hands as he stirs him to his room, lays him against his chest and turns on a movie. At this point, Felix knows to expect Hyunjin’s kisses, turns his face up and meets his tongue with pliant, parted lips. He seems to yearn for Hyunjin’s touches, melts and sighs against Hyunjin’s hands underneath his shirt. But Felix doesn’t ask for it, not with words, barely with actions. He remains docile under his touches, always with his cheeks flushed and his eyes big and round, like he’s at all times confused about things unfolding and the direction they’re taking. It’s how Hyunjin likes him best.
Felix’s head rests against Hyunjin’s shoulder, back pressed to his chest. Hyunjin’s legs bracket his hips and thighs and when nothing happens aside from small pecks and soft touches to his sides, Felix relaxes, the initial buzz falling off him like a veil.
Hyunjin presses his nose against Felix’s hair, inhales honey and milk and wonders if he snuck away or if Seungmin knows. Then, he presses his lips against Felix’s temple and wonders if he knows that he’s caught, that there’s a snake coiled tight around his throat, that teeth are about to sink into his neck and if he minds at all. Docile as a lamb, Felix remains relaxed even as Hyunjin’s fingers brush the waistband of his sweatpants and dip past it. Underneath his fingers, Felix is petal soft and carries the heat of a hearth. Hyunjin rests his hand right underneath his navel and doesn’t move.
About halfway through the movie is when his fingers start moving. One hand spans wide across Felix’s chest, his touches light, but teasing enough to no longer be brushed off as friendly. He feels the rise of goosebumps he leaves in his wake, the hardened nipples, Felix’s parted lips exhaling sighs and pleased little hums.
Hyunjin starts growing hard, but ignores it in favour of where his other hand dips low, brushing the soft cotton of Felix’s panties and down to where he’s always most warm and surprisingly soft. It’s unmistakable, that his fingers have brushed the outline of a pussy and that the fabric further down is starting to grow damp. Shy as he is, Felix twitches and whines, presses his thighs together and traps Hyunjin’s hand right there.
“Hyung, you shouldn’t touch there,” Felix warns, but his voice is breathy and Hyunjin feels him tense and twitch against where his fingers are pressed so close. He presses firmly down then, unbothered by the thighs that have trapped him, runs his nail down where he assumes Felix’s clit is and feels his ears flush as the low moan that falls from his lips. A quick glance and Hyunjin can see that Felix’s head has fallen back against his shoulder, his mouth ruby red and parted, hot. His teeth gleam bright and white, tongue pink and teasing the seam of his own lips. Hyunjin imagines sucking it in his mouth, he imagines another pair of lips, his own mouth on them, pressing open mouthed kisses there, where he’s sticky and sweet. He imagines that Felix tastes like peaches.
His heart thuds loudly against Felix’s back and his own voice is a vague, far away, muffled sound, as he asks, “Why not, Yongbok-ah? Don’t you trust your Hyung?” He presses his fingers down harder and Felix’s lashes flutter in silent defeat. In an attempt to grasp for the last traces of denial, the fingers of his small hand wrap around Hyunjin’s wrist, his blunt nails digging into his skin like edges of a butterfly’s wings.
It’s fruitless, but he turns his face into Hyunjin’s throat, like hiding from him has ever worked, and gasps, “It’s dirty, we can’t.” Hyunjin smiles when he presses a kiss against Felix’s warm temple, when his forked tongue flickers out again and he whispers about how it’s not dirty because it’s Hyunjin touching him, helping him. It would be different if Felix was touching himself, that’s too close to sex, but like this he’s only getting help, it’s only his Hyung taking care of him.
“You’ll still be pure, still my angel,” he finishes against the last crumbling wall of Felix’s barely held resolve. His thighs grow slack and Hyunjin hooks his feet between Felix’s knees and pries them open. There’s little finesse, even less patience to his touches as he finally, finally, pushes his fingers underneath the cotton and touches slick skin, hot and smooth. With his legs parted and held open, Felix’s pussylips part as well and Hyunjin teases his clit, enjoys the sound of wetness it creates, the helpless gasping moans that fall from Felix’s lips. His other hand wanders up, fingers curling at the base of his throat where he can feel the panted breaths and fluttering heartbeat at the side of his neck and against the inside of his arm. It’s easy to hold Felix still, to keep him pinned, docile as he remains, still as a lamb caught in a snake’s coil.
His insides are warm and startlingly tight around one finger, then two, when Hyunjin feels like he’s grown soft enough. Felix’s whiny little breaths call to him, every broken, whimpered Hyung, and every sharp, choked off moan. Hyunjin drinks them all in, thinks about feeding a third finger into where Felix is still so small, probably all red and pink, hiding behind all that fabric. His body grows more tense, then trembles and when he finally cums, breath stuck in his silence, it’s between the wide and parted jaw of a snake.
Felix trembles in the aftermath of it all, trembles as his body grows lax, squeezes tight and hot around Hyunjin’s fingers. He keeps them inside, waits only long enough for Felix’s breath to return to him, before caressing his thumb along his bottom lip and placing a kiss right at the corner. The fingers still inside of Felix’s pussy begin moving again, barely, just so, and there’s a third teasing at his opening, barely dipping inside.
Hyunjin smiles, all teeth, all venom, and says, “My pure, little angel, Hyung is not done with you yet.”
VII.
Felix’s pink little fingers are digging between the white flesh of a pomegranate. His skin is tainted red and he sucks the seeds into his mouth and past his equally tainted lips with vigour. Hyunjin would feel like a pervert for watching him, except Seungmin is there, doing the same. Felix seems oblivious to it; to the need that grows hot and venomous, that bubbles under Hyunjin’s skin like champagne, as well as the hardened traces of something grown cold in Seungmin’s sharp eyes.
Because Felix is innocent, he doesn’t look up, doesn’t meet a single, burning gaze, but continues lapping red from his fingertips. It sticks to him so stubbornly, but must taste so sweet. To Hyunjin, Felix is most beautiful in moments like these; where his beauty is secondary to him as a person, his unguarded movements and the openness with which he carries himself. Guileless and naive as he sits, passive to their perception and pretty as a picture. There’s a sort of innocence to this, too.
Not for the first time, Hyunjin wonders if the guard dog can tell that one of his sheep has gone missing.