Chapter Text
The takeout finally came with a knock at the front door, and Jiyong practically sprinted to grab the bags. Once the food was inside, they sat cross-legged in front of each other on the floor of Seunghyun’s room, cartons of MSG drenched meals spread between them, the athletes TV playing some variety show. The containers had jjajangmyeon, bulgogi, chopsticks that were quickly abandoned once they gave up on politeness, and milkis. They—more so Jiyong—dug in without ceremony. You couldn’t blame him, the man did say he was hungry!
“This mandu is actually the epitome of deliciousness—,” Jiyong said mid-chew, hand covering his mouth as he moaned satisfactorily. “—Like, I think I just saw God.” Seunghyun laughed, a low rumble that vibrated as he stuffed his mouth full of Tteokbokki. “‘M pretty sure that’s just the MSG talking.” He mumbled, an amused smirk on his face. He was a fast eater, so most of his portions of food were already digested, while the brunette who was literally choking himself on food, still had a mid-way to go. It was hilarious.
Seunghyun decided to help him out. “Let me try one, then,” Seunghyun grinned, nudging Jiyong’s carton with his chopsticks. “No,” the smaller man whined dramatically, grabbing the carton like he’d paid for it. He narrowed his eyes at Seunghyun, then, mischievously, shoved a huge bite into his mouth. Seunghyun raised his eyebrows, feigning a look of shock. “Wow, it’s like that?” The athlete gasped. But before he could utter another sarcastic remark, Jiyong leaned in, pressing his lips against Seunghyun’s messily. Taken aback, he opened his mouth, so the brunette had pushed the savory dumplings into his mouth with his tongue.
Seunghyun froze, eyes wide, chopsticks still raised mid-air. Something significant happened in the show that played on the TV, because suddenly there was a standing ovation. It was like it was in on the joke. Jiyong pulled back with a cheeky grin, licking oil from his lips. “What? I’m being appreciative—You paid; I shared.” Seunghyun blinked, pursing his lips. Suddenly, he felt hungry again. The brunette smirked as he scrapped the bottom of the dumpling container, not even batting an eye as he placed it on the floor and picked up his drink.
It was calm, or as calm as it could get after such a string of events. For the time being, though, Jiyong felt at ease. He’d taken a shower, slipped into some cozy clothes that smelt like sandalwood and honey, and was now about to go to sleep with a filled belly. Seunghyun’s secondary home was like a fortress of solitude, shrouding him away from the evil world—A.K.A his parents. And Jennie, who was probably posting ugly pictures of Jiyong from his freshman years at this exact moment. Sigh, he was trying not to think about it. Just as much as he was trying not to think about how he was absolutely going to murder her at school tomorrow. If him wrecking the entire downstairs of his house was crazy, what he was going to do to the girl would be catastrophic.
Jiyong blinked when he heard Seunghyun clinking his chopsticks on his bulgogi. His features softened, and he stuffed another portion of the thinly-sliced beef in his mouth before leaning in and pressing their mouths together, Jiyong feeling the smug little hum that vibrated from the other’s throat. Seunghyuns dimples protruded as they broke apart from the kiss, chewing the meat but still looking into Jiyong lovingly. “I feel like it tastes better this way,” the athlete said, swallowing. The smaller man’s cheeks dusted pink.
“I’m pretty sure that’s just the MSG talking.” Jiyong chuckled.
Next time Jennie says to mark her words—do not mark them. Because this mission she assigned herself? Would not be completed.
She’d already been to three clubs already, and was putting herself in danger every time. One—only drug-addicted highschool peakers would be at a bar on a week day. Two—you know what Jennie’s wearing. There’s just somebody waiting for the right time to snatch her pretty high-end jacket off her. Three—she’s seventeen. Sneaking into clubs is not easy, no matter what anybody says. She has no idea how they do it! And not to add she’s also been gifted a beautifully youthful face, so that just makes it all even worse.
So, yeah, the night is not going well. Even on top of all of that—no sign of Jiyong. It was getting even later, even colder, and Jennie hasn’t seen a wisp of someone who even looked like him…from the back. She was having no luck, no luck at all. The teenage girl slammed her car door shut for not the first time that night, groaning into her hands frustratedly. Why was being nice, and doing the right thing, so hard? At the same time, though, she guessed this was just a result of her past behavior. She could have just asked CL, or Daesung, or anybody if they had any idea of the brunettes whereabouts—but she couldn’t. She had burned all of those bridges before they were even built.
“I can hear your thoughts all the way from here,” Lisa said from over the phone, because yes, she decided to stay on the phone with her best friend as she went on a manhunt for a man you wouldn’t even known existed, with how he’s completely disappeared without a trace. Jennie huffed. “Good; so you can hear me weighing out the pros and cons of committing.” She murmured. Without looking at her phone, she could see Lisa frown in disapproval. “Don’t say that,” she said, just as Jennie thought she would. “It’s not a good thing to say.” She couldn’t find the energy to do much else but laugh. Beauty sleep isn’t just a saying, at least to Jennie. She’s usually asleep by now, her skincare routine melting into her skin, promising clear and refreshed pores in the morning, and a rejuvenated body. But no. She was out and about, in heels that were absolutely wretched to walk in.
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” Jennie sighed. She turned her key in the car, starting the engine up. There were of course plenty of other clubs around. They did live in Seoul. But if she were to check every one, she’d be outside till the sun’s fully risen. There really was no point. “I think I’m just going to go home.” Jennie said. She felt like she failed. Even though she’d see Jiyong tomorrow, hopefully, as school, she felt as though things would be tougher. It’d been a full day, and the boys anger would have had more time to simmer and sink in. She gripped the steering wheel. “Okay,” Lisa uttered. “But don’t be too hard on yourself about it. You trying at all is still great, Jennie.” She smiled warmly.
“Why don’t you text Seunghyun? It’ll at least be proof you felt bad about it tonight.” Jennie blinked. That wasn’t so bad of an idea, if she wasn’t kind of scared of Seunghyun ever since he dragged Seungri through the mud. She crossed Jiyong. His boyfriend. Again. Would he hit a girl? Because she doesn’t think she’d even be able to handle a single slap from him. She was fragile like that.
“Absolutely not,” she grimaced, spinning the wheel to make a turn. “I can almost feel him punching me dead in my face.” Lisa snorted, as if this was all a damn joke. “Please, Jennie. Seunghyun is not going to—“ “We do not know that!” Jennie exclaimed, eyes flickering off of the road for only a second to glance at Lisa through the phone. She shivered. “He may just want to end my life for stealing his boyfriend’s phone. And that’s before him even knowing that Jiyongs family, Soo-hyuk, and some random cute guy saw a picture of him shirtless.” Lisa chuckled. “Thank God, he doesn’t.” she grinned. “But okay, then; I’ll just text him for you.” Jennie breathed out. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She was, because that made everything easier. Lisa was relatively liked, at least more than Jennie, so her relaying the raven-haired girls message was probably the better option. She watched as the girl over the phone rolled her eyes, her face illuminating, contrasting against her otherwise dark room, as her fingers tapped away.
Jennie heard the send sound over the phone. “What did you say?” She asked, but Lisa pursed her lips. “Can’t say.” What. Jennie almost fucking swerved. Thankfully, she hit a red light a few seconds later, so she could focus her attention at her cellphone. “What do you mean you can’t tell me!?” She shrieked. Lisa scoffed. “I didn’t say anything bad, obviously. You would just stress out less if you didn’t know.” Like any of that helped. Jennie couldn’t even truly get mad, just scowled as the light turned green and she pressed her foot on the gas pedal. “I swear..” she grumbled under her breath.
She wondered if Jiyong was acting just how Soo-hyuk had said he would—dancing his worries away at a club far away from Jennie. If he’d broken up with Seunghyun. She feared that was the case, since he clearly started a riot at his house. She felt her stomach drop. From the direction she was driving, she could see the moon from her windshield. Despite not being very superstitious, she stared at the giant rock, hoping it would hear her maybe-prayers and answer with…something. She wasn’t even sure what. Actually? Jennie felt like an idiot. Why was she praying to the moon? Was she cracked?
“I need sleep.” She said finally.
Eventually the cartons laid—tipped over, empty, with nothing left but a few sticky opened sauce packets and used napkins. Yet Jiyong and Seunghyun were still on the floor of the athletes bedroom, kissing, deeper now, with heat lingering between them in the spaces between gasps of air and soft sighs. Jiyong’s hands would have been on the other’s shoulders, if one side wasn’t still healing, so he had it on the man’s neck. It was unhurried, like they had all night, and they truthfully did. It was the first time where there was nothing to intrude, no one to intervene. Jiyongs pulse thundered as Seunghyun tilted his head and kissed him slower, more sure, slowing down time, but not his heart.
The athlete had a hand in the brunettes hair, grip not tight, but instead just feeling around. Jiyong’s hair was soft and thick and messy from blowing in the wind earlier, and he almost never wanted to let go. He felt the same feeling when the shorter man broke the kiss, despite only parting mere centimeters from each other. Their foreheads rested together. “Feels… different, huh?” he asked softly, voice nearly lost under his own pants. There was an unmistakable shift. But there was a nonexistent word for it. “Yeah,” Seunghyun admitted, eyes fluttering up and down from Jiyongs eyes and his lips. The room was quiet besides their breathing, their heartbeats, and the faint hum of the TV that still played. There were no parents. No interruptions. Just them.
The atmosphere was different, but not in a bad way. Just intentional and salient. Seunghyuns hand trailed downwards to pull Jiyong’s neck back, making the brunette gasp quietly. He leaned forward to press hot, passionate kisses along his jawline. His tongue dragged slow strips of saliva across the flesh with the same fervor he’d given to Jiyongs own mouth. The smaller man’s gaze turned heavy yet lucid, an emasculated, needy and desperate groan slipping out. ”Tabi,” Jiyong breathed, his voice trembling. He could barely handle their make out session earlier, and this? Right now? It was overstimulating in the best way. The sensations were electric. Intoxicating.
Then, without warning, Seunghyun sank his teeth into the tender side of Jiyong's neck, a sharp bite that pierced the other’s lustful haze. Jiyong's eyes flew wide. “Tabi!” he yelped, repeating the word with a newer undertone. His fingers dug into both of Seunghyun's shoulders. The athlete jerked back at once, knocking him out of his trance of desperation and replacing it with worry. And pain. He swallowed hard, reading the cry as too much. “Shit—sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and dropping his stare to the floor. He evened his breathing out as he glanced at the toppled over food cartons, and even one of their milkis, which had tipped over some time during their heated kissed. The silence stretched further.
In any other moment, the spark would fizzle out; sexual tension evaporating as they’d just crack a joke and talk about how many shitty situations they somehow found themselves in a week. But not this time. The heat lingered, simmering low, dimming only a smidge. That bitten mark on Jiyong's neck pulsed with a dull ache. Not pain, exactly, but an insistent throb that the cool air tickled. Something buzzed in Jiyong, because he grabbed Seunghyun's face with both hands and crashed their mouths together again. The last barriers shattered. Any shreds of restraint unraveled. Their kisses turned savage, all teeth and tongue, fueled by pent-up frustration and attraction and need. Seunghyun’s tongue lapped at the roof of Jiyongs mouth, making the smaller man whimper. They moved in a recklessly and chaotic, with the brunette rising to his feet, Seunghyun shadowing him, moving forward on his knees with his height advantage until Jiyong's calves bumped the edge of the bed.
Seunghyun shoved him down onto the sheets, their lips locked in unrelenting hunger. Jiyong scooted toward the headboard, and the athlete followed, climbing over him to straddle his hips. Their kisses grew sloppier, breathing almost a thing of the past, their heads angled for deeper access. Seunghyun captured Jiyong's tongue between his lips, sucking hard before releasing it with an obscene slick sound. The brunette twisted beneath him, one hand fisting Seunghyun's hair, pulling him impossibly closer as his body arched and twitched on instinct. This was all so new, so unprecedented. Heat pooled in Jiyongs stomach. Fiery arousal charged his movements. Seunghyuns mouth vibrated against his as a low groan emitted from him, and the taller man’s hand groped at his hip.
“Seunghyun,” Jiyong pleaded, not sure for what, not caring much, either. He inhaled sharply when he involuntarily rolled his hips, only once, but still the friction of Seunghyun’s pants was enough to shoot a pang of pleasure up his spine. The brunette gasped, his hold on the other clenching harder. He chased the that spark again, wanting to feel the rapture, bucking up once again. The athlete on top of him matched the pace with as much haste that could be conjured, and in the moment nothing else existed but but the expensive mattress dipping beneath them and the press of their warm bodies.
Their kisses became more feverish. Eyes flitting shut and open more rapidly. It all felt so good—it was a mile they’d never run. But it still was…at bay. They both were fearful. Neither knowing if it was right to take the next step. Seunghyun created a gap, insanely small, while his chest heaved as he panted hot breaths against Jiyong’s flushed face. They stared at each other, hungry and dark with desire. The taller man had his arms braced on both sides of Jiyong’s head, with one knee wedged firmly between Jiyong’s thighs to keep him pinned and spread.
The room was dark besides the TV in the room, and the sliver of light caught Jiyongs swollen lips. It was just like that for a while, then both catching their breaths and rational minds. It’s like no matter how hard they tried to die down the flame of arousal, it would reignite itself. Jiyongs stare sharpened. It seemed like there was no going back. This time Jiyong tentatively leaned inwards, brushing his lips against Seunghyun’s in a tease of a kiss. Not fully pressing, but also not hovering. Jiyong writhed under Seunghyun, and, finally, the athletes hands slipped under the brunettes oversized off-shoulder shirt, his palms sliding over the warm, smooth skin of his torso. His fingers rubbing and massaging at his sides and abdomen, lips sealing over Jiyong’s in a deep, devouring kiss.
Eventually, Seunghyun stopped all together, needing to see what his hands were exploring. What he’d been thirsting after for months. He’d been wanting this forever, and now he felt even more charged up than their Golf game. Jiyong bit his lip as he both watched and felt Seunghyun. The man’s hands slithered up to Jiyong’s nipples, sensitive, while Jiyong bit his lower lip, breath hitching. It peaked Seunghyuns interest, and he flicked one. It elicited a small whimper from Jiyong, the touch sending sparks straight to his groin. In the moment, his blood roared hotter than ever. Then, Seunghyun sat up. “Can I take it off?” Seunghyun asked politely, eyes almost swallowing Jiyongs entire frame whole. The brunette gulped hard, shyly yet eagerly nodding, before sitting up so then Seunghyun could hook his fingers under the hem of the other’s shirt, peeling it off and tossing it aside.
He didn’t dive back in right away. Instead, he drank in the sight of Jiyong’s bare chest, pale skin stretched over the soft curves of his body, nipples flushed pink from his earlier attentions. He was stunning, so achingly beautiful that Seunghyun’s throat tightened with emotion. But Jiyong didn’t radiate his usual confidence and comfort in his own skin. The man’s arousal dimmed. His arms twitched to cover himself up and his eyes didn’t meet Seunghyuns. The last time he exposed himself intimately it didn’t go well. Not at all. But…this was different, Jiyong reminds himself. Seunghyun isn’t an asshat or manipulator like Soo-hyuk—whose manipulation and deception left wounds that still stung if pressed hard enough—He’s caring. Affectionate. And he loves him.
Jiyong exhales slowly, blinking all bad thoughts from himself. “You’re so pretty,” Seunghyun muttered, the words barely audible, but weighted with horrifying sincerity. Jiyongs cheeks blushed, and he bit his lip. You think so? Ghosted the tip of his tongue, but he refrained. Seunghyun leaned in and tilted his head downwards to land a soft kiss to the curve of Jiyong’s neck, then trailing even lower to his collarbone. He whispered affirmations under his breath for Jiyong to hear, that were so meaningful and honest they made Jiyong’s eyes glisten. Afterwards, the taller man grazed his tongue against his left nipple, making the brunette gasp loudly. “Do that again,” he ordered, and Seunghyun listened obediently without hesitation. He licked a stripe down the bud, flicking it with his tongue. A soft moan slipped from Jiyong, laced with embarrassment, his legs kicking lightly against the sheets, for the rest of his body was pinned down from Seunghyuns weight to do much else with his upper part. Seunghyun’s gaze stayed fixed on Jiyong’s face, because his features were just too perfect, even in this moment. He would capture a picture of it and make it his Lock Screen, if that wasn’t a bit much.
Seunghyun kissed his nipple and swirled his tongue around it—it was akin to just sucking on a fleshy lollipop. His tongue laved over it in firm circles. Jiyong felt blazing hot everywhere, and his hips kept bucking up, meeting Seunghyun’s navel. He felt an erection growing, and it only made the sensation even pleasurable. Seunghyun gave the same treatment to the right nipple, sucking and nipping until Jiyong’s moans grew louder, more desperate. Out of nowhere, Seunghyun pulled back, yanking his own shirt over his head and discarding it like it was nothing. He grabbed Jiyong’s thighs, pulling him down the bed until their hips aligned perfectly. Leaning in, he captured Jiyong’s mouth in a searing kiss, tongues tangling as much their own bodies that pressed flush together. It was easier to meet each other this way, and Jiyong was nothing but vocal.
The material of his bottoms were thin, so moving against Seunghyuns jeans offered absolute bliss. The man above him rolled his own hips in sync, but his noises of pleasure came out more as grunts, pants, and low groans. Their motion rocked the bed a slight bit, but Jiyong did nothing but roam his hands freely around the others body, his fingers tracing the hard ridges of the athletes shoulders, the defined planes of his chest, and the string muscles of his neck. He’d fantasized about this since patching up Seunghyun after his fight with Seungri, but back then, the moment hadn’t been right. Right now, while they were grinding against each other lustfully, choking on the thick, desirable air between them, it seemed to be as perfect as it could be.
Jiyong sucked in air through his teeth, feeling overstimulated in the best way possible. Who knew all of this would happen just from a single glance all those months ago? Who knew Jiyong would find someone who loved him flaws in all? Who understood him better than he did himself? Who protected him. Who made him feel loved. Who Jiyong could always count on. He breathed in the man’s familiar scent of sandalwood and honey, unshed tears making his gaze glassy. There was a break in the haze, and the brunette used it to look Seunghyun in the eye firmly. He couldn’t breathe, not evenly, at least, but he opened his mouth to say, “Tabi,” slowly and fervently. The taller man locked his eyes on him, mouth parted and strands of hair sticking to his forehead. He didn’t hum yes, but the eye contact was enough to know Jiyong had all of his attention.
He cupped Seunghyuns cheeks, his nostrils flaring desperately to inhale air. Jiyong felt his lips tremble. Why was he crying? Were they good tears?—what is he talking about, they had to be good tears! The athlete blinked.
Jiyongs gaze hardened. “I love you,” he uttered, like the words were the last he’d ever say. Seunghyun huffed out an airy chuckle, his breath tickling the others face. “All that buildup for something I already know?” He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges as he raised a hand to rake his hand through his hair. Jiyong rolled his eyes, shuffling underneath Seunghyun. “Shut up,” was all the brunette could muster. The moment wasn’t dwelled on for long, though, because taking a leap of faith, Jiyong fidgeted with the waistband of the athletes jeans carelessly; or as careless as he could act like the motion was. His eyes flickered up to Seunghyun, then back down, trying not to stare right at his boner that poked through the man’s pants. He could make a few assumptions, and none were in a negative light…
It’s like time slowed down as his fingers worked to unbutton the man’s pants and drag the zipper of his fly down. His face grew increasingly hot, and he caught his lower lip between his teeth without even realizing it. Seunghyun was unusually quiet, and Jiyong couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye as he tugged the denim fabric over the athletes hips, easing the jeans down in awkward, hesitant pulls. Jiyongs face turned crimson, at the timidity, at the sheer intimacy of it all. When he looked straight, he was met with the outline of Seunghyun's cock. It was unmistakably large, and promising, even beneath the garment, and Jiyong's pulse raced even faster. He was for sure on the brink of an anxiety attack. Or a heart attack. Or an excitement stroke. Whichever came first.
This was it—there was no going back. There was nothing else to come between them, to cut into the moment, to keep their desires averted. Now, mind clouded with arousal and hormones, Jiyong wanted nothing more than to wrap his lips around Seunghyun until he groaned his name, to see if the taste of him would be enjoyable, and if he could even take it all in the first place. The eagerness burned low in his belly, a fierce ache that made his own member twitch in anticipation. But there was still doubt—What if he messed up? What if his inexperience showed, turning the electric moment into something awkward and disappointing? Seunghyun deserved better than sloppiness—he deserved the confidence of someone who knew exactly how to worship every inch. And that wasn’t him.
Jiyong swallowed hard, his mouth dry, eyes tracing the waistband of the athletes briefs. Pulling them down would strip away the last barrier, leaving Seunghyun fully exposed, cock springing free and heavy in the air between them. No more hiding, no more foreplay, no easing into it. The reality would smack him right in the face, that this man, bare and vulnerable under his touch, was trusting him with something so intimate. And Jiyong was doing the same. The brunette wasn't backing out—he couldn’t. Not when he wanted it, too. When he wanted to overlay his last time with something light years better, and with someone he cared infinitely for, too. The thought alone sent a thrilling feeling through him, mingling fear with deep, hungry want. He just needed to breathe, to steady his hands, to trust in himself.
When Jiyong pulled the last piece of clothing off Seunghyun, heat radiated all over his body like a damn plague. “Shit,” he basically mewled, all humiliatingly high-pitched and rash. The man in front of him was a squeamish estimated seven inches, with a relatively average girth. Still, for a (technically) first time, he was hoping just a few inches less. Seunghyun cackled at the brunettes grimace, head tilting back for only a moment. Maybe it was a mechanism for the athletes own nerves, trying to lighten the intense moment up. Jiyongs brows furrowed. “This isn’t funny,” and perhaps it wasn’t, because Seunghyuns grin was replaced quickly when the brunette gripped the base of his cock. The taller man’s mouth rounded into an O shape, and he used one hand to grip the top of the headboard, balancing on his knees. Jiyong kneeled on top of the bed's pillows, his free hand resting lightly on his thighs.
He inched closer, eyes peeking up to look Seunghyun in his. The man breathed slowly, like if he pushed any more pressure out his nose it would break the spell they seemed to be under. Jiyong slid his hand up, keeping his grip firm against the slight twitch of the athletes penis. Seunghyun grunted quietly, and the slight reaction sparked up the brunettes confidence. He set a slow pace, simple up and down motion. The others cock was already slick with precum, making the only sound in the room provocative wet noises. Jiyong began to twist his hand, his breath growing uneven just by doing the action. His own seated position began to grow uncomfortable, his own dick becoming painfully hard. The brunette stirred, lidded eyes continuing with his task.
“That feels good,” Seunghyun groaned, tipping a little forward, still supported by his arm on the headboard, his senses consumed by the single sensation that was pleasure. Jiyong hummed in response, his hand stopping at the end of the athletes length. His mouth watered from curiosity and excitement, but also felt dry from the harrowing anxiety. Everything now was just based on impulse, and the shorter man’s next move was to wrap his lips around the tip on Seunghyun’s cock. The contact was hesitant, but it still set fire to the other. The athlete groaned, loud and unrestrained, his muscles tightening up. It all felt like a dream; to be alone with Jiyong, vulnerable yet comfortable in the state, sharing such a milestone with the other. The brunettes mouth slid off of him, only to press kisses and stripes of his tongue on the slit of his dick, feathery light. That was all the pressure Seunghyun needed, though.
“Does this feel even better?” Jiyong purred, looking up at the man through his lashes. Ethereal. That’s all he was, especially in this moment. The question that was clearly sarcastic still lingered, and then, biting the bullet, Jiyong took the next step of taking a little more, stroking the rest that wasn’t in his mouth. The texture was a little odd, with the veiny underside of Seunghyuns cock a different sensory experience, but not unwelcome. Not at all. The taste was a little salty, but otherwise was just the flavorless-ness of flesh. Jiyong drew in a steady breath through his nose, forcing himself to relax as he inched forward, taking more inch by inch. His mouth began to conspicuously stretch more, not uncomfortably, though. The athlete grit his teeth, muttering, “Fuck,” every so often. His body was tense, yet his hips kept involuntarily twitching forward. That had to be a sign the brunette was doing good, right?
Feeling more assertive, Jiyong pulled back, taking the others dick fully out his mouth. Strings of saliva still connected him to the body part, the sight itself sending a thrill up him, like a single strum of an electric guitar. Seunghyun let out a shaky exhale, his eyes darkening with aching need, the sudden cool air on his wet skin making him all more sensitive. The noise Seunghyun made when Jiyong dove back in was guttural, yet addicting. Pleasure surged through the taller man like electricity, mixing with the raw need churning in his chest, that just made his cock throb harder in Jiyong's mouth. The brunette felt his eyes begin to water as his cock hit the very back of his throat, past his gag reflex. His breath went ragged, and his throat constricted at the new position. He instinctively hallowed his cheeks out, placing his hands on the athletes hips firmly. The leverage was more stable, and he began to rigorously suck Seunghyun off.
The taller man didn’t know if things were moving too fast, too slow, or just right, and maybe that was the point—They made their own pace. Like, for example, the rhythm of Jiyong's mouth, sucking and bobbing with increasing enthusiasm and confidence, was utterly relentless. It drowned out his doubts quickly, replacing them with waves of intense pleasure that made his knees weaken and his pulse quicken. He threaded his fingers into Jiyong's soft brown hair, not pushing, just holding on tenaciously as his breaths came in sharp gasps.
The sensations continued to come like waves; some little, others thrashing. Jiyong found himself moaning against Seunghyuns dick, the vibrations only adding another layer to the ecstasy of the moment. As time went on, the athlete began to rock back in time with the other, Jiyongs nose repeatedly hitting his navel, a never-tiring redundancy. It wasn’t forced or overly aggressive in any way, just all feelings emerged in lust for the time being, morphing into something more beautifully complex and pleasurable than imaginable. The brunette pulled back slowly, letting Seunghyun's cock slip free from his mouth with a wet pop, saliva coating his entire chin. His chest heaved as Jiyong rotated to stroking the athlete, rolling the tip with his palm, and licking a stripe up the underside. Seunghyun groaned under his breath. “You’re so good at this,” he inhaled sharply, watching the shorter man through his lashes. The averment filled Jiyong up with pride, slowing his hand down to focus on Seunghyuns face.
His coffee-colored irises stared at him, like his face was a manuscript that had to be memorized. The brunette tilted head to the side, a sweet smile growing on his face, like he wasn’t giving him a handjob at this very moment, like he didn’t have spit running down his face, like all of this was something innocent. “Thanks,” Jiyong replied, eyes dimming as he trailed back down in front of him. Slowly and steadily his shyness was chipping away, being replaced with the dull throb of want and desire. He was never a rational person, and his tiny string of it was inches from being cut by a pair of scissors. “I’m trying my best.” The shorter man murmured afterwards.
“Well you’re doing a damn good job,” the sheer unrestrained nature of Seunghyuns tone was surprising. He always possessed a distinct additional amount of nonchalance that Jiyong didn’t have himself, and seeing him now, crumbling by his hand—or mouth—? It was fascinating. He kissed the side of the athletes dick, moving one of his hands from Seunghyuns hip bone to fondle at his two balls. The skin there was a little wrinkly, slightly darker than his actual cock, and seemed extra sensitive, because the man above Jiyongs breath got caught in his throat, choking out seconds later into a pleasure filled sob. He kissed down the his naval, finally sucking one into his mouth, only for a little bit, before retracting back. For a few more minutes, Jiyong stroked Seunghyuns length intensely, gripping his cock, slicking his hand down to the base with a flick of his wrist, cupping his balls, and sucking the tip. The other was a groaning mess, hissing through his teeth and holding the headboard so tight he was scared it was going to break, or something.
Then, Seunghyun wrapped his hand on top of Jiyongs, making the brunette pause. The athlete panted, head lulled forwards. “I’m..close,” he said lewdly. The shorter man’s hand left his cock as if it burned, facing his palm at himself to stare at how moist it was. He squinted at it. What if he licked—no. That’s weird. Jiyong cleared his throat, shuffling to the side so Seunghyun could lay down next to him on his good shoulder. He closed his eyes, trying to even out his breathing for a second. Beside him, the brunette poked his tongue at his cheeks, brow furrowing at the hollow feeling of his mouth. Also weird. “That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had,” Seunghyun then sighed, moving his sweaty hair out the way to place the back of his hand on his forehead. Jiyong shimmied out of his borrowed shorts and then finally underwear while the other settled down a bit, the air hitting his own dick that was just confined. The brunette scoffed. “Yeah, probably because that was your only ever one.” He didn’t touch himself, not yet, despite his cock throbbing to be. He could wait a little longer.
“Still was the best,” Seunghyun mumbled, finally opening his eyes again. He turned his head slowly, gaze dropping straight to Jiyong's exposed penis, only for a moment, before snapping back up to the brunettes face. The shorter man felt his face flush impossibly more, his nerves causing him to sit up straight and cover himself with the blanket under them. The heat of the moment died down for the time being, thus his self consciousness returned. Seunghyuns brows furrowed. Nope. He wasn’t having that.
The athlete held himself up on one arm, and once he did that, he reached out to grab Jiyongs wrist. "Hey, come on," he said softly, his tone laced with reassurance that was too real to be faux in any way. "Don't do that, Ji. You don’t have anything to hide. Not after... everything." He tugged lightly at the blanket's edge, not forcing it down but inviting. He didn’t want to push, or come off too strong, but seeing the brunette act so timid, as if he wasn’t utterly gorgeous, striked Seunghyun with pure hostility. Most of all because he had an idea on why—or who. He locked eyes with Jiyong, stern and unwavering, yet somehow also soft and flitting. The shorter man’s skin still tingled from their earlier touches, but the intimacy felt intimidating again without the distraction of pleasure.
"I just...” he inhaled shakily, clearing his throat to straighten his voice out. “It’s not you—the last time something like this—“ his mind began to jumble, flashes of memories he pushed so far back into his mind that they almost didn’t exist, were rising again, all at once. “The last time I was exposed," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "It hurt." Mentally and physically. The athlete frowned deeply, and Jiyong felt like he’d ruined the moment.
"I’ll make up for it," Seunghyun cut in, shifting closer until their thighs pressed together. He cupped Jiyong's face, thumb stroking his jawline, determination bubbling in him. "You won’t even think about him again—I swear." He leaned in, pressing a driven kiss to Jiyong's jaw, then his nose, trailing back down to his lips. The gestures were unhurried, building back the comfort they'd shared moments ago. It was a promise that would be hard to fulfill, but Seunghyuns always been a resilient person. The man’s words wrapped around Jiyong like armor, shielding him from all of his bad thoughts. They sat there, their breaths mingling, the atmosphere thickening. Jiyong closed his eyes, trying to retrieve the lustful haze he was just succumbed to.
Their lips connected again, messily and hungrily, fire igniting in them again. The brunette became more eager, hands laid flat on Seunghyuns chest. He trusted the other. With his life, probably. He sighed out his nose at the familiar feeling of the other’s tongue slipping into his mouth, exploring around like a cave diver. It was like he had something to prove this time—and he did. Jiyong’s lips parted wider, his breath warm as he tried matching the athletes intensity. A soft, involuntary noise escaped him as Seunghyuns mouth unraveled him in mere seconds.
Jiyong made a strangled noise, and the taller man instantly reeled back, eye glinting in curiosity. The brunette huffed, cheeks already becoming more pigmented. "Uhm. We need…stuff. Uh—condoms. And the oil stuff." Yeah Jiyong, because just talk like you haven’t paid attention in any of your Korean literature classes in the past five years. Seunghyun didn’t react too overzealously to his shallow vocabulary, a deep chuckle coming out of him. "On it. Stay right here." He swung his legs off the bed and stood, completely naked, by the way, out of the room. Jiyong's gaze followed, a mix of appreciation and fresh nerves bubbling up. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, only because the man wasn’t in the room though. “Yeah, because where am I going to go?” He uttered sarcastically.
He wasn’t sure why he hinted at Seunghyun needing to get condoms and lube. Despite being absolutely horrified, he still wanted this. Wanted to feel the other inside him. Finally resolve their weeks of sexual tension. Finally take the next step. It was scary. It was exciting. The brunette wiped a hand down his face. It was like having an ice bucket dumped on him only to be forced to walk on lava rocks seconds later. Flashes of his first time assaulted him again—Soo-hyuk's impatience, the dry burn of entry, the way pain and uncertainty overshadowed any pleasure. He'd endured it, waited until it was all over to flee, but it all still ate at him. He’d always remind himself though that this here was no mistake. He was in a committed relationship. He actually liked Seunghyun. And the athlete would never do any of the things the previous dipshit had.
Footsteps returned, and Seunghyun slipped back in, items in hand. Before Jiyong could even question it, Seunghyun just said, “My parents also usually come here by themselves when my dad’s home for more than, like—a week.” With a shrug. And that was enough. He slid back under the covers, leaning over to kiss Jiyong, deep and ravaging, their tongues sliding lazily as hands roamed. The brunette was getting better at keeping up, and he could already feel his whole body warming up again. He eased back onto the pillows, legs parting to welcome Seunghyun above him to fill the gap. The position laid him bare, heart exposed as much as his body, but Seunghyun's weight felt protective and familiar, not overwhelming.
Jiyong bit his lip as anticipation thrummed through him as he watched Seunghyun tear open a condom wrapper. Fingers, a bit clumsy from nerves, rolled it on, then he coated himself generously with lube, the slick sound obscene in the quiet room. The brunettes eyes flicked to the TV, noticing it had turned off, probably a long time ago. He tried to look anywhere but at the man, who began to positioned himself in front of Jiyong, the head of his cock pressing against the others entrance with hesitation. The shorter man clamped his eyes shut tightly, stopping his breathing as he waited to feel the distasteful pressure. Seunghyun froze there, though, his brows furrowing. After a moment, Jiyong blinked up, confusion flickering amid the nerves. "What?" he asked, voice dipping. Was something wrong with him? Was he second guessing? Or was it just the angle?
Seunghyun winced, shifting his weight. "Shouldn't you... be prepped? Like, loosened up?” The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line in ignorance, his nescience transparent. “I read about that—somewhere. Don’t ask.” The athlete couched meekly. The thought that he had been reading, what?—porn?—so he’d have knowledge for this very moment, was more endearing than anything else. Jiyong's lips pursed, a sour memory resurfacing. "I... guess so," he said slowly, eyes flicking away. "Wasn't like that before. Just... happened." A huff escaped Seunghyun, reflecting his irritation, but he swallowed it quickly. There was no need to think about it right now. He snatched the lube, squirting a thick dollop onto his fingers, the cool gel warming quickly. "We'll fix that," he murmured, voice steady. It wasn’t so bad of a setback, he supposed, because it was just another couple of minutes to be in total secluding with Jiyong.
He inched down between Jiyong's spread thighs, two slick fingers hovering at the puckered hole. The first brush of fingertips against his rim made Jiyong's breath catch in his chest, a shiver racing up his spine. Seunghyun circled the ring slowly, teasing the sensitive skin, coaxing relaxation before pressing one shallow finger in. It was just a fraction of his index that slid in and out with deliberate ease, the lube making it glide smooth, introducing that odd fullness without resistance. Without much discomfort. Jiyong tensed at first, muscles clenching around the intrusion, but a strange pressure began to buildup. The athlete gripped his thigh, spreading him wider.
He added the second finger, twisting them slightly to stretch the walls, scissoring apart to open him up. The sensation deepened into layers. There was a subtle burn at the edges, but also an insistent stretch, as his nerves awakened in unfamiliar ways. Jiyong squirmed, a soft whine slipping free as the fingers delved further, deeper, with Seunghyuns pace increasing just a little bit. Everything else began to melt away, being replaced with sheer pleasure. Soft moans and hums came out of the brunettes mouth, his eyes closed to heighten the other sensations. Time blurred in those minutes, Seunghyun patient, watching every twitch and gasp for cues. He was careful, focused, yet confident in his angles and rhythms.
When the third finger joined, pushing in alongside the others, Jiyong's body resisted briefly before giving way. Thats when a strange shift hit. Deeper, with freer thrusts, made pleasure bloom low in the shorter man’s gut, a hot spark fizzling in his abdomen as Seunghyuns digits grazed his prostate, light, at first, and then firmer. Jiyong's back arched off the mattress, a gasp tearing from his throat. His eyes squeezed shut, lashes fluttering as his hips bucked involuntarily. "Oh—" The moan came unfiltered, repeating with each quickening slide. It felt weirdly good now, the stretch transforming into heat that coiled even tighter, his cock twitching against his stomach, leaking steadily. Seunghyun growled low, the sound vibrating through them. "Like that, huh?" He drove three fingers deep, nails of his free hand digging lightly into Jiyong's hip for leverage. The tips massaged that bundle of nerves, sending jolts of ecstasy through the other. "Uh-huh," Jiyong mewled, nodding frantically, the affirmation cut short by a sharp inhale as Seunghyun hooked his fingers, pressing insistently. His body jerked, a full-body shudder ripping through him, making his toes curl and chest heave.
"Tabi!" The name choked out, desperate, as pleasure thrashed through him. His erection pulsed, demanding attention, so he fisted it, stroking in a similar rhythm to the fingering, yet more reckless, pre-cum slicking his palm. Jiyong was unraveling with every moan, his body slicked in sweat, his thighs quivering around Seunghyun's arm. Seunghyun growled praises, thrusts of his hand matching the building frenzy, eyes dark with lust and care and determination. Jiyong teetered on the brink, muscles fluttering, orgasm on the horizon. But Seunghyun pulled out abruptly, fingers withdrawing with a suggestive sound, leaving Jiyong whining at the emptiness. Panting, frenziedly, he watched as Seunghyun wrapped his hand around his own cock, lubing it again with quick pumps. He aligned himself swiftly. If he dwelled on it too long, he’d psych himself out.
The condom-sheathed head of the athletes dick nudged Jiyong's prepared hole, pressing forward. Seeing it there, erected and throbbing, triggered a flash—but just that though. It didn’t last long at all. The brunettes mind was already too fogged with lust. His breath hitched as Seunghyun leaned down to press a passionate kiss to his lips. "I love you too," Seunghyun murmured, finally returning the sentiment. Jiyong sniffled, emotions surging—relief, affection, desire. The taller man’s tip breached then, popping past the rim with a controlled push. The stretch bloomed immediate, a deep ache that bordered burn but eased by the thorough prep. It wasn’t pure pain, just intense pressure as inch after inch Seunghyun filled him.
Jiyong moaned loud and free, head lolling back, walls clenching greedily around him. His teeth clamped together. It was fullness unlike anything before, every vein and ridge dragging along the brunettes sensitive insides, overpowering everything. Seunghyun braced his hands beside Jiyong's head, neck muscles straining as he sank fully, balls pressing against Jiyong's ass. The others walls twitched around him, engulfing him into a tight heat. He groaned, holding still, forehead to Jiyong's. "You feel—fuck—so tight. Okay?" He panted against the brunettes neck.
"Yes," Jiyong whispered, voice breathy. His body adjusted quickly, and he began to want more. Seunghyun withdrew a little bit before he thrusted back, moderate and controlled, his cock sliding deep enough to nudge that spot. Jiyong gasped, hips canting up, pressure building as the athlete caressed his prostate repeatedly, sending waves of pleasure all through his body. No pain lingered, just escalating bliss, his own dick trapped between them, rubbing with every motion. For Seunghyun, it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Every thrust pulled moans from them both. His abs flexed as he built rhythm, savoring the slide in and out, the way Jiyong's body welcomed him now. He could do this forever, or at least all night. The feeling was euphoric. It couldn’t be mimicked, and never duplicated with anyone else but Jiyong. His body was like it was made for Seunghyun, just perfect. Always perfect.
The pace accelerated, Seunghyuns hips snapped sharper, impossibly deeper, and in faster drives that slapped skin to skin, lube squelching into an utterly obscene overlapping mess. Jiyong was blissed out, the relentless pound against his core, their cocks grinding, and the sounds that kept emitting from his mouth was creating fire that consumed his every thought and rationality. He moaned like a fucking porn star, all high and broken, fingers tangling in Seunghyun's hair, holding his gaze through his tear-blurred vision, finding leverage in those dark, onyx eyes. The athlete looked back, how couldn’t he when Jiyong looked too beautiful. His perfectly styled hair disheveled by none other than him, his stubborn and confident charm chipped down to just a needy mess. He was at his most vulnerable, and no one else would get to see it again but him.
Seunghyun groaned loudly. He hiked Jiyong's leg over his hip, hooking it high, the angle plunging him impossibly deeper. The brunettes prostate was hit and overwhelming amount of times in mere seconds. Jiyong cried out, "Tabi!" again, his eyes rolling backwards, his jaw slack. Seunghyun's athleticism showed, his hips rolling in fluid, powerful, and unending rhythms. Jiyongs nails grazed along his back, not having the stability or strength to really claw and scratch. Their bellies slid slick, erections trapped and frictioned raw. Jiyong's pleas slurred into nonsense, pleasure muddling speech. Seunghyun's palm found his throat, fingers curling around it with minimal force. Drool escaped Jiyong's parted lips, chin wet, his body arching into every brutal thrust. He could feel himself nearing his climax, but he couldn’t do much to vocalize it. It all felt so good—too good. It was an ecstasy better than drugs, better than any alcohol in Seoul, better than their little make out sessions that they both had assumed was just the best sensation they could achieve with each other.
Jiyong shattered first, too fast in his books, walls spasming wild around Seunghyun's cock as his whole body jerked before going rigid. Cum spurted between the short space between them. The taller man didn’t stop though, not for a moment, continuing to ride out the brunettes climax, still thrusting for his. He was inexplicably on edge too, his movements becoming sloppier, less frequent. Jiyong clasped his hand around his, that was on the shorter man’s neck. The next few minutes were like a looped up fantasy, the room all wrapped in raw lust and drive, and provocative noises and sounds, and enveloped darkness that contrasted against the white stars that would flash behind their eyelids. Finally, with one last deep, guttural groan and plunge in Jiyongs walls, Seunghyun came into the silicone wrapper, flying out of his cock in restrained ropes. Time froze, but their ragged breaths didn’t. Their heaving chests didn’t. Their feelings didn’t. The athlete fell on top of the brunette, still inside him, his head caving into the curve of his neck.
There was a long stretch of silence. They didn’t speak. Didn’t move—not like they really could much, anyways. It was five full minutes of absolutely nothing but their short breaths and quiet rehabilitation of their thoughts. Jiyong stared at the ceiling, his eyes glassy. Eyes emotional, but not in a sad way. In a contentious aspect. His lips were kiss-swollen, his left thigh with a slight cramp, but there was only one thing that was substantial:
They…actually did that.
It was the realization of the next chapter of their relationship was starting. Things couldn’t go back to normal again. There was no turning back on them, not when they’d shed themselves bare to each other and then remained transparent. Jiyongs heart hammered in his chest, and he hoped the other hadn’t noticed it.
He huffed out a tiny breath, the undertone of disbelief. “That was amazing,” he muttered softly, not vocalizing his true concerns. He didn’t need to. This was the first total break of all their hurdles outside of Seunghyuns bedroom and Kanye West blankets (that pooled at the end of the bed). He kept blinking slowly, like he wasn’t fully grounded yet. Or like if he did, all of the problems would return.
Seunghyun’s breathing finally evened out, though his body stayed pressed against Jiyong’s. His mind was spinning in happiness. He indulged in the tranquility. He sighed out his nose in satisfaction. He felt accomplished; prideful. And of course unbelievably lucky. God, how he’d wanted Jiyong before tonight. Wanted him so badly it ached. And then there was now—and it lived up to all of his expectations. Exceeded them, actually.
Still pressed to Jiyong’s neck, he huffed out an amused laugh, his voice rough.
“Better than Soo-hyuk?” he asked.
“1000 times better.” Jiyong answered without a second thought. The athlete beamed, and the brunette felt his teeth against his shoulder as the man smiled. “I mean—I guess I’ll take that.” He joked. Jiyong snorted.
Eventually, Seunghyun pushed himself up, sitting back on Jiyong’s thighs. The shorter man immediately drew in a big dramatic gulp of air, gasping like he’d been being crushed. Seunghyun rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.” An easy grin played on his face. The room smelled like sweat, lingering air freshener, and of course sex. It was pitch black besides the lights of Seoul miles away from them, illuminating through Seunghyuns gigantic window. If Jiyong had to take a guess of the time, it’d probably be around midnight. Maybe 1 A.M?
“Let’s clean up,” Seunghyun said, stretching his back a little. But Jiyong didn’t move. Not for a second longer, before he shuffled onto his side, pulling the blanket over himself tighter. He shook his head, blinking slower, like exhaustion was consuming him. “I don’t feel like getting up. I don’t really feel like cleaning up, either.” Seunghyun’s face twisted instantly into exaggerated, horrified disgust. “Ew—No. You’re sticky. You’re sweaty. Absolutely not.” Jiyong shrugged under the sheets. “Then don’t look at me. Problem solved.” He offered.
“What?—“ Seunghyun slapped his own forehead. He thought the shorter man would be muted a little longer, but it seemed like he was already back to his normal self “Jiyong, I—no. You do know I’m going to have to wash my sheets myself, right? At least make my job easier..” Jiyong hummed lazily. The athlete would have continued to prod, but the brunette looking genuinely exhausted, barely even conscious! His mind told him to not fall for it. But his heart…
He slid left the warm bed, muttering under his breath as he walked into his bathroom, the lights flickering on as soon as he took one step. Seunghyun hissed, his mind adjusted to the darkness of his unlit bedroom. He opened one of the cabinet, grabbing a clean rag to run water over it in the sink, not at a freezing temperature, but of course not piping hot. He then wrung it out, suddenly feeling the heaviness in his own eyes. The night was most definitely coming to an end.
When he came back, Jiyong was still half-asleep, curled up like a cat. Seunghyun huffed, but something warm softened in his chest. He sat beside him and pulled the blanket back gently. “Come here.” Jiyong wrinkled his nose but allowed himself to be shifted. Seunghyun wiped him down carefully and slowly, like the shorter man was something fragile. Every few seconds, their eyes met. Every few seconds, Jiyong’s heartbeat spiked. Every few seconds, Seunghyun couldn’t contain a delightful smile. When he finished, he wiped himself off, tossed the rag onto the ground next to the bed, and pulled the blankets up around them both. Jiyong blinked up at him, lids heavy, voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks.” Seunghyun paused, they relaxed into the sheets, sliding an arm around the other’s waist.
“Don’t thank me,” he murmured. His voice was soft. There was supposed to be more to the sentence, but his brain was muddled by sleep and the position was too comfortable to fight it much longer. He leaned in, placing one last chaste kiss to the brunettes forehead, lingering like that for seconds longer, and then pulling back. Only by an inch. His breathing slowed down, feeling at peace. He wasn’t even worried about the problems that would resurface tomorrow, and probably for days after that, because this was his safe place. Jiyong was his safe place. The shorter man was already unconscious, chest rising and falling steady, the rest of his body still. Seunghyun felt himself slipping away, and he didn’t fight it anymore.