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His hair hung him in the eyes, there was sweat dropping down his chin and neck, and the collar of his shirt was all drenched in it. He looked stunningly beautiful like that, the way his lashes hung deep under the tiredness, his lips were slightly apart, and his tongue was slickering over the lips, all wet. The boy bent down, his shirt rimming up his lower back, exposing skin and sweat, glittering under the neon light.
The sound of water rattled through Taesans ears, loud and harsh.Sungho groaned in annoyance when he grabbed his butt, and Taesan wished to go back to the day funny slaps had slowly turned into touch, and Taesan hoped to remember the sound that came out of Sungho's mouth, low and still so soft; he hoped to remember it well enough that it would still linger in his ears when he was one floor down under his hyung gazing at the ceiling for more than white noise.
He stepped aside, quick, to get away from a potential slap, but not far enough to actually miss it. “Stop it, Taesann-i...”
“Or what?” he asked, a smirk on his face as he watched Sungho dry his face; he wanted to touch him so bad it almost hurt. “Call me hyung,” he said before second thoughts could interfere.
“What’s the matter with you, huh?” Sungho’s eyes did that thing when he was close to crashing out and too proud to lift his head to look him in the eyes; Dongmin would try to remember that look too. “What are you even doing here?”
“Just wanted to say good night.” Dongmin shrugged, his fingers curled into the door frame, watching Sungho as he took his shirt off, throwing it into the basket at his feet. Skin, all shiny, so pretty.
“Okay, well...good night?” The older almost let out a giggle. Was he mocking Dongmin? He would let him do it whenever. He would laugh at himself too if it wasn't so awfully painful.
“Good night, hyung, sleep well,” he replied but didn’t take a single step out of the room, trying to map out every inch of Sungho’s body with his eyes. He was just a few feet away; he could just reach his arm out and—“Anything else?”
Dongmin was giving his best to hide the desperation in his eyes, blinking once then twice, wishing to disappear.Touch me, let me touch you, let me go down on you, let me kiss you, or don't. Goddamn it, just fuck me until I can't walk anymore, or just hold my hand for a little while. Do anything you please to me; I beg you “nothing.”
And with that Sungho closed the door, pushing Dongmin's hand off the frame, and the boy could have cried at the thought that it would be the only touch to receive.
He let himself slump down on his bed; the mattress sunk deep, sheets stretching on the weight. There was a mark on his underarm, the left one, right where Sungho had grabbed him as the older slipped on the stage. The second Sungho had wrapped his fingers around Dongmin, he had known it would bruise. And he had been so happy. And Sungho had whispered a thank you into Dongmin's ear as they left the venue, because that was Sungho's way of an apology.
Dongmin tried to think of anything else but Sungho. Tried to sleep and fell into dreams. Dreams of Sungho, the feeling his fingertips made when he let them run down Dongmin's arm, when he got too close during a whisper and his lips brushed his ears, when he had walked out of the bathroom after a shower, right into Dongmin, and the younger had almost let out a whimper at the friction of their bodies crashing together.
He reached under the sheets, feeling himself through the thin fabric of his boxers. He was throbbing, the pre-cum sticky on his fingers when he reached down to skin. He moved his hand frantically, one pumping his length, the other doing circles around his hole. The overstimulation was heavy on his brain, fogging and numbing his senses.
Dongmin did not hear the door opening, nor the knock before. He felt Sungho's hand on his shoulder, and he knew it was Sungho because he had imprinted the touch into his memory. And Sungho's voice swept through the room into his mushy brain, the thoughts all pleasure and now panic.
Dongmin let go of his dick, not done, as hard as it hurt, pulling the blanket higher while he sent a silent prayer that the light was dim enough so the older wouldn't see his flushed face.
“I came to give you your hoodie back, but I heard you crying from outside and thought—” Sungho sat down onto the mattress, reaching to brush the tears off Dongmin’s face. His hand was almost cold compared to the heat of Dongmin’s skin, a burning confession: “You look pretty when you cry,” nothing more than a whisper.
But it did the thing, and Dongmin arched into nothing really, whimpering, half in humiliation, half because of the way Sungho looked down on him with his stupid brown eyes and the stupid hair that was still wet and falling into his face.
“Are you—” Sungho did not complete his question, and Dongmin wished to die. This was more humiliation than one could take; his dick was still pulsing just a hand length away from Sungho.
He wanted Sungho to look at him so badly and wanted him to watch if he would not help.
“I’m so sorry...” The older got up, and before Dongmin even registered the feeling of the steps, Sungho had already closed the door behind him.
He wanted to stop, but there was no help for it, so he got himself off in painful motions, knowing Sungho knew he was doing it right now, trying not to think about the shadow in front of his door, not daring to look if it was still there as a thick spurt of cum splashed into his hand, leaving him panting and whimpering Sungho's name.
“I am sorry for yesterday.” Dongmin stated that in the middle of the dance practice, he held a distance from Sungho, maybe an arm's length. The older one looked up to him, stretching on the floor, his muscles lined clear under his shorts and the tank top. Dongmin wanted to rip that stuff off him right then and there, or let Sungho rip it off himself. Whatever.
“You want to talk about this now?” the older one deadpanned.
“No, not talk about it.”
“You want me to forget that I walked in on you jerking off to me calling you pretty?” Sungho tried again, and his voice was probably loud enough for Sanghyuk to hear, and he wouldn't dare to look the other in the eyes ever again.
“Sort of,” he mumbled, still watching Sungho.
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” This was starting to make him nervous. Why was Sungho so freaking calm?
“No, as in, I like the memory too much to forget it...” It should be a law against someone saying this in the current context just like that, like Sungho had just informed Dongmin about his liking for movies.
“What?” Great, Dongmin, another nicely elaborated take, and he might think you got a brain.
“Be pretty for me, hyung.” Sungho got up, and Dongmin felt the heat rising to his neck and then to his crotch after the touch Sungho had left on him as he walked by, the freaking hand over Dongmin’s dick had been no accident; it was well calculated, just like everything Sungho did.
Waiting in Sungho's room. Dongmin had never been so nervous. He had dressed nicely. Nice in looks and easy to take off. And he had prepped in the shower. Donghyun had probably been able to guess what he was up to, at least by the way he had eyed him as he tried on twenty different things.
He wasn't the guy to aim for a pretty look; next to Sungho, it was stupid anyway. But now, in Sungho's room, he felt like he should have put more effort into it.
There was a framed picture on Sungho's nightstand, of Sanghyuk and Sungho; from the way Sanghyuk looked, it must have been at least five years ago. They wore school uniforms, and Sungho was kissing Sanghyuk's cheek. It made Dongmin think that the other probably knew more about this than Donghyun, a thought he tried to ban again instantly.
“You look pretty,” he said, mostly out of reflex when Sungho came in. but he meant it and would have probably moaned it at a closer look.
“What are you doing here?” Sungho asked, looking Dongmin up and down, Dongmin, who wished to die right then and there, feeling so freaking stupid. “You look different.”
Can you please fuck me? He didn't know what to speak out loud. He watched instead, watched how Sungho stripped off his clothes, how he took forever to search for fresh ones, and maybe, later when he started to think about it, that should have been the moment for Dongmin to do something, anything. Just not nothing to the way Sungho exposed his body to him. To the way he had looked over his shoulder, down at Dongmin. Those stupid pretty eyes.
“Please kill me if I ever open myself for anyone again.” He groaned into his pillow, not caring to see Woonhak sprawled out next to Donghyun too.
“It’s a good thing to communicate your feelings, though...”