Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts with Jeongin, probably because most everyone else is too mature to give in.

But Seungmin has been restless, on edge, unable to do anything meaningful to help. It gets bad enough that he navigates to a private browser on his phone and googles erectile dysfunction onset early twenties because there is no reason for him not to be able to cum.

And yet, he can’t. For several weeks now.

He’s not even the type of person to masturbate all that frequently. It’s more of a weekly occurrence than a daily one, something that creeps up on him when he’s awake too late, feels the tension in his body, and thinks oh, might as well.

And that’s good enough for him. He’s not the kind of person who has a very high sex drive, but—isn’t orgasm a physical need? And he suddenly can’t.

He’s tried everything. Usually a quick jerk off is enough, a few quiet minutes and vague shapes floating through his mind. But then he started going soft before he could finish, drenched in sweat with his heart racing.

And he’d thought: okay, no big deal, maybe it’s time to try something else. So, instead of jerking off, he’d tried rutting into his palms, into pillows. It feels wrong, and like something that might be horrible for his cock, in the long run, but it had almost worked. But, at the last second, his teeth biting into the pillow in frustration, he just couldn’t cum. A building pressure that would never release, no matter how hard Seungmin tried.

And fine—he’s not one to finger himself (more trouble than it’s worth), but something has to be done here. It’s getting ridiculous.

But it just—it doesn’t feel good when it’s just Seungmin and his fingers, wrist crooked at a painful angle and too predictable, too shallow. He fears it would be the same with a dildo.

He just—he can’t get into it. Masturbating. He’s never really had a problem with it before, but it’s going to get dire. He’s going to start having wet dreams or something, which feels concerning.

But he’s hardly going to go to the company doctor and divulge the fact that he can’t cum no matter what he does. He feels on edge constantly, like a gust of air might tip him over the edge. He’s flushed, his cock hardening at inopportune, unpredictable times, and it’s getting to be a real fucking problem, actually.

Enter Jeongin, who is honestly a total fucking pain. But—Jeongin wouldn’t make fun of him for anything actually serious or concerning, and it’s a little embarrassing to go to one of the hyungs and ask for jerk-off tips.

And, like. He knows Jeongin masturbates a lot. Maybe even more than Felix or Jisung and—and it’s super concerning that Seungmin knows this much about his bandmates’ masturbatory habits, actually. If Jisung could play his hentai at a slightly lower volume, that would be great.

Anyway, that’s how he finds himself creeping into Jeongin’s room at night, while Minho is out and Felix is locked in his room playing video games.

Jeongin’s up, tugging a sweatshirt over his head—pajamas, apparently. “What, no knocking?” he asks, scowling.

“I know you lock your door if you need,” Seungmin argues, scowling straight back. But no—that won’t do. He’s asking Jeongin for advice, and embarrassing advice at that. He ought to be nicer. “Sorry, just—can we talk a second?”

Jeongin narrows his eyes. He and Seungmin don’t talk, not about anything serious. They hang out a lot, for sure, but they don’t, like… discuss philosophy, or the meaning of life. They mostly just rib each other and take silly pictures. But he nods and pats the edge of his bed, an invitation.

“What’s up?” he asks, probably wondering why the fuck Seungmin isn’t going to Chan if he’s after a serious conversation.

“I have… a problem,” Seungmin announces, doing his best not to squirm.

Jeongin’s eyes narrow. “Elaborate.”

Seungmin desperately doesn’t want to. How do you just casually bring up Oh, I haven’t cum in a few weeks and I’m started to get super fucking concerned.

“How often do you jerk off?”

Jeongin heaves an enormous sigh. Strictly speaking, this is blurring the edge of friend territory—but, their group has always been pretty good at blurring that line. So far as Seungmin knows, no one has quite crossed it, but it’s been toed so often that it’s moved quite a good deal. There’s lots of lap sitting and platonic cuddling and ass grabbing, and he’s pretty sure Jisung and Felix have made out—as a joke, of course. Hilarious shit.

“Like, most days, probably,” he admits. Then he glances at the time on his phone. “Was hoping to be able to tonight, so…” He rotates his index finger in the air, indicating let’s get a fucking move on, then. Do friends divulge their jerk-off plans to other friends? Seungmin doesn’t really know anymore.

“And you always… finish?” he ventures, knowing he’s giving himself away.

And Jeongin’s eyes widen. “Hyung, you—you don’t?”

“I usually do,” he mutters, self-conscious. “Just—lately—so, I haven’t cum in, like… a few weeks?”

Jeongin blinks, stunned into silence. It’s like he’s stuck processing Seungmin’s words, so foreign they are to him. And, yeah, fine, Jeongin is super virile and never has any problem finishing or getting it up or—

“That’s not healthy. Are you, like, dying?” Jeongin asks, with genuine concern. “Or—erectile dysfunction? Before Chan hyung? Oh my god, it’s dire.”

Seungmin scowls. “I’m just looking for, like, tips,” he says. “But you’ve clearly never had this problem, so—”

Seungmin moves to get off of Jeongin’s bed, to retreat with his tail between his legs and maybe try rutting against his pillow again, but Jeongin’s hand comes to his wrist, halting him.

“I have advice, hyung,” Jeongin says seriously. “You need a partner.”

His mouth goes dry; his cock hardens, which unfortunately isn’t hard to do nowadays, how desperate he is. “Where am I supposed to find a partner?” he asks, forcing a scoff. His stomach is doing cartwheels.

“I’m willing to throw you a bone,” Jeongin admits, his voice quiet. “And—fuck, that was suggestive, I’m fucking hilarious.” Despite that, there’s no trace of humor or irony in his voice—he has to force it in. “This is strictly a medical intervention, hyung. I do consider it to be saving your life, and I expect all the appropriate hero worship.”

“You want to… jerk me off?” Seungmin checks, his face flushing. And, yeah, his cock is embarrassingly hard about it.

“I don’t want to,” he insists, though he’s eyeing Seungmin hard. Seungmin suspects he’s saving face. “I’m just—your balls have to be almost necrotic. I’m doing you a solid. As a bro.”

It’s a weak excuse, but—what the fuck is Seungmin going to do? Say oh, no thanks, and go back to doing what demonstrably doesn’t work?

And Jeongin has grit, determination. He’s competitive. He’s not going to give up until Seungmin cums, probably. And then he’ll be in the clear, and probably everything will go back to normal.

So, out of sheer desperation and absolutely no other feelings, Seungmin nods. “Fine,” he says, keeping his voice level. “How do you want me?”

“Clothes off, obviously.”

Right. Jeongin’s not going to do that for him, because this isn’t sexual. This is a favor between bros, strictly speaking, and that’s what Seungmin is thinking about as he tugs his hoodie off. Jeongin makes no move to undress—duh, because this is about Seungmin. Obviously.

Seungmin kicks his sweats off, and he is not embarrassed. He is not weirded out! His cock is hard and Jeongin is fully clothed and this is all totally normal and fine!

And Jeongin seems to consider, pushing his lips out in thought. “If you’re wanting me to, like, masturbate you, shouldn’t you be in my lap? So I can get the angle right?”

Right. Duh. Obviously. Naturally. How else would they do it? Seungmin still hesitates. “So—like…?”

Jeongin settles against the headboard, his legs spread, then holds his arms out for Seungmin. Seungmin hesitates a little, and Jeongin rolls his eyes, like he’s being ridiculous, and tugs him backwards by the waist, until his bare back is flush with the front of Jeongin’s sweatshirt.

Jeongin works some lube into his hand—it’s always close by, naturally. And, with very little fanfare, his hand comes to cup Seungmin’s balls, almost experimentally.

He sucks a breath in through his teeth. “Jesus, and you haven’t exploded?”

Seungmin’s cheeks flame red, even as he bucks into Jeongin’s touch. “Can you, like, not narrate this?” he requests. “And maybe get to the point?”

“Maybe you need a little more than stimulation, though,” Jeongin breathes, and the air fanning across his neck has his skin erupting in goosebumps. Still, he brings his hand to wrap around Seungmin’s cock and it—it already feels so much better than when Seungmin does it. 

He writhes against Jeongin’s front—he’s a little too far gone for shame, now, and Jeongin hooks his chin over Seungmin’s shoulder to watch. His other arm is still hooked around Seungmin’s waist, holding him fast so he can’t squirm too much.

Still—“You’re moving a lot, Seungminnie hyung,” Jeongin murmurs, sing-song. Annoying. “Does it feel good?”

“O-Obviously, brat,” Seungmin tries, but it’s lacking any bite.

“So squirmy,” he says, and it sounds oddly like praise. “So cute.”

He doesn’t care that Jeongin thinks he’s cute. That’s irrelevant here, but his hands come to claw at his own thighs, which have been hooked around Jeongin’s so he’s appropriately spread.

“Just—be quiet,” he grits, because surely Jeongin’s chit chat is going to distract him, to make him lose whatever pleasure is building.

“Aye aye,” he mumbles, snarky, though it’s tender against Seungmin’s bare shoulder.

And then there’s nothing but their breathing and the slick sound of Jeongin’s hand working over his cock. Seungmin is still squirmy, but Jeongin obediently keeps his mouth shut, his pace constant and firm.

Seungmin’s close, he thinks, closer than he’s been in recent memory.

“Want faster?” Jeongin mumbles, not breaking pace.

“Yes,” he breathes, dragging his nails down his own thighs, leaving red traces in their wake.

Jeongin’s hand speeds up and this is it, this has to be it, he’s going to cum all over Jeongin’s fist and he shouldn’t be so excited about that part but he is—

And then, cruelly, his erection flags. It’s like his heart starts pumping too fast, too much blood receding from his cock and going elsewhere.

“Oh, dude,” Jeongin says, slowing the pace of his hand as Seungmin softens, whines. It’s embarrassing on his own, but it’s utterly humiliating in front of Jeongin. “That’s problematic.”

“Shut up, I’ll—I’ll go work through it on my own—” Seungmin says, and tries getting out of Jeongin’s lap. But Jeongin’s arm is still firmly anchored around his waist, and Seungmin can’t move.

“Wait a sec,” Jeongin says, as Seungmin’s limbs flail as he tries to get up. “We tried your way. Can we try mine?”

“I don’t see how you should know better than me—”

“You came to me for help,” Jeongin deadpans. “You gonna let me help or not?”

Seungmin is still squirming, trying in vain to break Jeongin’s hold. “It’s just that—”

“You’re gonna go home and just continue not to cum until you, like, explode with semen?”

Seungmin slumps against Jeongin, exhausted. “Jeongin,” he says, not caring that he sounds pathetic. This entire fucking situation is pathetic. “I’m tired. I’m embarrassed. I want to go back to my room and pretend this didn’t happen. I’ll crawl to the company doctor and beg for boner pills, I don’t fucking know.”

“Hear me out,” Jeongin insists, and he takes advantage of Seungmin’s laxity to bring his lips to his neck, which is definitely crossing the friend line for them. Jeongin just had his entire fist around Seungmin’s cock, and this feels more intimate, somehow. “Just the stimulation isn’t doing it for you,” he mumbles, his hot breath hitting Seungmin’s skin. “You just need something else.”

He’s scared that if he opens his mouth an embarrassing little whine will fall out, but Jeongin is obviously expecting an answer, mouthing absently at Seungmin’s neck and tracing abstract designs on his hip bone. “L-like what?” he breathes, unable to inject any of the usual exasperation into it.

Jeongin’s teeth bite softly into the flesh of his neck, and he has to work to suppress the full-body shudder that tries to overtake him. His answer is simple, one word, but spoken like a riddle.

“Butterflies,” he responds.

It’s nonsense, Seungmin is pretty sure. What the fuck does Jeongin know? He just, like, jerks off all day. Seungmin tries to point this out, but Jeongin arches up against Seungmin, and he can feel his cock against the swell of his ass.

“You know?” Jeongin follows up, grinding against his ass with a hand on each hip. “You need the anticipation to build, you need to be so worked up you lose your mind.”

Seungmin can’t do much more than make a choking noise, but once that passes, he weakly tries to defend himself again, a matter of pride. “I don’t need you to praise me while you jerk me off, Innie,” he says, in a surprisingly strong voice.

“It’s more than that,” Jeongin says dismissively. He’s slowed his hips, and now traces designs on the sensitive insides of Seungmin’s thighs. “You trust me enough to let me try, though, right? Or you’re desperate enough?”

“Jeongin—”

“Yes or no,” Jeongin instructs. “You just have to let me take care of everything.”

Seungmin’s thighs are trembling. He feels vulnerable like this—he is vulnerable like this—and, well… he does need to cum. It’s an undeniable fact. If Jeongin’s ego is telling him he has the key to making Seungmin finally cum, Seungmin is inclined to believe it. Jeongin’s ego is usually right about what he’s able to do, anyway.

He drops his head. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbles.

And he doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Jeongin to just… ramp up? Furiously pump his cock and call him a slut or a whore or—

But he doesn’t. He bundles Seungmin gently in his arms and presses him back against the pillow. “Alright,” he agrees mildly. “Let me look at you.” Seungmin’s not sure he likes it, squirming under Jeongin’s gaze. He feels like he’s being assessed, judged, and he subtly nudges his thighs closed.

But at the end of it, his narrowed-eye gaze, Jeongin brightens and declares, “Pretty.”

Seungmin’s stomach lurches. Jeongin has never called him anything even approaching pretty, but he has called him ugly innumerable times.

“I think you’re just starved for affection,” Jeongin reasons, bringing a hand to rub at the side of his face, stretching back behind his ear to rub and tickle there. Seungmin automatically angles his head for his touch—more reflex than anything, but Jeongin coos at him. “Good boy.”

Oh. Oh—it hits him all at once. This is a place you might pet a dog, behind the ear, and a term of endearment that is undeniably canine—good boy.

Why does it make Seungmin’s cock twitch?

It hits him so hard, the thought, that he immediately has to try to play it off, even though he’s not sure if Jeongin has connected the dots. He scoffs, nervous. “What am I?” he asks, fighting to keep the tremble from his voice. “A dog?”

Jeongin’s eyes light, and he knows he’s made a mistake. Whatever he’s thinking, he keeps to himself for now. In fact, he doesn’t do anything more than mumble, “You’re cute, hyung.”

Maybe it’s okay. Maybe Jeongin hadn’t caught on to how he kind of thought he liked it, the good boy praise and the distinctly dog-like way Jeongin was petting him.

Jeongin’s touches are gentle, skimming down the planes of his stomach, his ticklish sides. And Seungmin feels that suddenly he knows what Jeongin meant, the butterflies. His stomach is flipping with each caress, each glance Jeongin gives him. His cock is hard again, too, leaking against his stomach, though Jeongin doesn’t touch there, yet.

His thumbs dig lightly into Seungmin’s hip bones, rubbing little circles there that feel more teasing than anything. “You’re just pent up,” Jeongin says, his tone dripping with sympathy. “You need someone to take care of you.”

Seungmin doesn’t, and he tries to protest, but Jeongin looks up at him through his lashes and his voice catches in his throat. He’s pretty, and Seungmin has never thought such a thing about Jeongin before.

“You just need to let go,” Jeongin coos, and stretches forward to drop a kiss on his lips, which manages to catch Seungmin off guard. It’s the first time they’d kissed, and Jeongin had done it so casually, like it was nothing. “I already told you I’d do everything.”

Jeongin is fully clothed; Seungmin is naked, and harshly aware of the fact. He feels a flush creeping along his skin, and he tugs at Jeongin’s sweatshirt. He tugs it off nonchalantly, tossing it across the room.

He comes near again, his thumbs still working circles on Seungmin’s hips. Their noses brush, and Seungmin doesn’t think he can breathe. “Are you going to let me? Let me make you feel good.”

His stomach is in knots; his hips rut forward of their own accord, desperate for friction of some kind.

“Good boy,” he praises again, nuzzling their noses together. A whine rips through Seungmin’s teeth, his belly exploding in a flurry of butterflies. Jeongin mostly ignores this reaction, thankfully. “Is it alright if I fuck you?”

Seungmin is suddenly absolutely certain that he wants it, wants Jeongin to pin him down and rut against his ass animalistically. To hold him and fuck him slow and sweet and not enough. To twist him into unrealistic positions, to take him slow and lazy on their sides. It hits him just then, like a divine revelation: he wants Jeongin, any way Jeongin will give it to him.

He nods, suddenly teary. “Yeah, Innie, I—tried getting off with a dildo, probably don’t even have to stretch—”

“Slow down,” Jeongin says, because he’s babbling. “You’re so impatient, hyung.”

Seungmin huffs. He’s very patient. He’s just recently run out of patience, because he’s been waiting for weeks to cum, and he can’t help but feel that Jeongin’s cock in his hole might be the magical solution.

Begging is probably what Jeongin wants to hear, knowing him, but Seungmin isn’t desperate enough to stoop so low. Yet. But he does reach out to put a hand on Jeongin’s forearm. “I just—Innie—”

Jeongin softens immediately, stroking his hair. “What is it, puppy?”

Puppy. Seungmin is going to fucking short circuit. Why does it work for him? He’s not a dog, and he doesn’t feel it’s a nickname that makes much sense.

…Is it the thought of Jeongin putting a collar on him, owning him?

He so doesn’t have time to unpack this now, when he’s so desperate to get his rocks off that it has borderline become a medical problem. For now, he likes the nickname puppy, it does things for him, and he’s going to leave it there.

He squirms, rubbing his thighs together. “Just—I need to cum,” he says, his face flushing. “And I think… I think if you fuck me, it’ll happen.”

Jeongin hums. “My cock is pretty spectacular.”

It’s enough of Jeongin’s usual egotistical nonsense that it sets Seungmin at ease, and he’s smacking Jeongin with a wild grin. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he says, barking an incredulous laugh. “I can’t believe I want your mediocre penis in me so badly.”

Jeongin huffs. “You haven’t even seen my dick yet,” he reminds him, and grabs Seungmin’s wrist to feel the bulge at the front of his sweatpants.

Seungmin takes back mediocre. Why is Jeongin fucking hung?

When he looks up, there’s a cocky smirk on his face. “I’ll still stretch you,” Jeongin says sweetly, fingers twitching for his hole.

It’s a matter of principle now, as far as Seungmin is concerned. “Go slow,” he says. “I’ll be fine.”

Now there’s concern lacing Jeongin’s voice; he goes gentle again, stroking Seungmin’s hair like a dog. “I don’t want to hurt you. The goal of this is for you to feel good.”

“I will,” he snaps, losing his patience again. He feels strangely on edge already, he thinks this might be The Time. Jeongin is going to finally make him cum.

“Bossy, pup,” Jeongin points out, still cradling Seungmin’s head. “Well, fine. Be a good boy and lay down and take it.”

Seungmin might cum before Jeongin’s cock even touches his hole. He whines and goes pliant so Jeongin can flip him over into the pillows. He snags the lube again—leaking onto his mattress, of course—and spreads a perfunctory smear over Seungmin’s hole, and surely over his own cock.

Jeongin’s hands come to knead at his ass, spreading him open. He’s—honestly, he’s been pretty furiously fucking himself the past week or so, desperate for release, so he is much more open than he’s usually be. Nonetheless, he can’t help but feel that Jeongin is a whole new struggle.

The head is the worst part, blunt and thick, and Seungmin groans as Jeongin forces it in. “You’re taking it so well,” Jeongin praises, one of his big hands groping appreciatively at his ass. Seungmin is trembling like a leaf, his upper half sprawled on the mattress with his hips tilted obediently high for Jeongin. “Relax,” Jeongin soothes, rubbing a hand up Seungmin’s spine.

But he can’t—he’s shaking and trembling up until Jeongin seats himself fully, sliding in easily once the head has made it in.

Honestly—he feels dangerously close like this. Unreasonably close. Jeongin is flush against his spine, mouthing behind his ear. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t know what else to do. “J-Jeongin,” he gasps, too far gone to care about how pathetic he sounds.

“Poor thing,” Jeongin coos, blowing cool air against the shell of his ear. “Pretty thing. You need it so bad, don’t you?”

Seungmin whines in response, trying to hoist his hips higher and failing.

“Wait, puppy,” he murmurs. A hand comes up to fist tightly in his hair—it doesn’t hurt until Seungmin moves his head. Meant to keep him in place, then, and the fact that Jeongin can so easily restrain him sends a stream of pre-cum drooling from his cock. “You should ask nicely. Say please.”

He’s buzzing—this is humiliating, but he has an unusual flurry in his stomach. The thought of begging Jeongin to fuck him, something that should be pleasurable for both of them, is embarrassing, and he’s not quite sure he can summon the word to his tongue. Nevertheless, there’s a desperate heat crawling up the back of his neck, flushing his chest. He wants this, and the idea of having to ask Jeongin for it makes his belly coil.

“Jeonginnie,” he whines, and earns a sharp yank to his hair, pulling his head back. Tears prick his eyes, and he sniffs. There’s a wavering—Jeongin’s grip loosens.

“It’s okay, right, Seungminnie?” he asks softly, suddenly seeming self-conscious.

No—no no no. Jeongin shouldn’t feel self-conscious when he has Seungmin this on edge, and he hastens to reassure him. He nods his head vigorously, feeling the burning tug on his scalp as he does. “Yes, Jeonginnie,” he breathes. “Please—please—”

His hand tightens again. “Good, puppy,” he praises, and releases his grip on Seungmin’s hair to instead rub fondly through it, like petting a dog. His stomach rolls as he falls back down to the pillow with a whine.

Jeongin needs both hands on Seungmin’s hips to force his way in and out. His thumbs dig bruises into the dimples at the base of his spine and Seungmin positively wails, praying that the worst of it is muffled by the pillow.

It aches, but there’s something soothing about it. He thinks it’s good that he isn’t facing Jeongin for this; with a quiet moment with his face stuffed into his pillow, he can focus on nothing but the sensation of Jeongin’s cock dragging along his sensitive inside walls.

They haven’t been this sensitive before, Seungmin is positive. He’s fucked himself seven ways to Sunday over the past few weeks, and he’s never gotten even the slightest stirring in his stomach.

Jeongin was right, which is a ridiculous statement. Jeongin was right. Seungmin needs this, the squirmy little feelings—needs Jeongin.

It’s a little shameful, realizing he wants his best friend like this when he’s already balls deep and rearranging Seungmin’s guts, but the shame coils his gut tighter—the humiliation of it—Jeongin’s gentle words juxtaposed with his harsh, bruising grip—

His hand shoots up between his own legs before he’s even conscious of it. His balls are aching, his cock hard and bobbing between them.

“No,” Jeongin scolds immediately, swatting his hand away and then, after a moment’s hesitation, swatting at his balls lightly, chastising. It hurts, and he cries out, burying himself further into the pillow. Jeongin’s fingers circle the base of his cock and squeeze; Seungmin could cry. “You should ask me first,” Jeongin says, his voice husky. “Say Jeonginnie, is it okay if I cum?”

He exhales like all the breath has been punched from his lungs. His cheeks might have burned, but he doesn’t think he has any blood flow to spare. And then he spirals a little—what if he gets too embarrassed and the blood rushes from his cock again and—

“Jeongin,” he gasps, clawing at the sheets beneath him to cope. “Please.”

Jeongin swats at his balls again, glancing off of them lightly, but it still hurts—and makes Seungmin’s stomach all fluttery again. “That’s not what I told you to say.”

He wants the exact statement. Can Seungmin even remember the exact words? His brains have leaked out of his ears, and Jeongin has taken to stroking his balls lightly, tenderly. It feels fucking amazing, but he’s also afraid of another tap if he doesn’t manage it.

Jeongin takes a modicum of mercy on him. “Jeonginnie,” he prompts for Seungmin.

“Jeonginnie,” he echoes, his voice altogether whinier.

“Is it okay if I cum?”

“Is it ok-kay if I cum?” he stammers, and Jeongin rewards him with a smattering of kisses across his shoulders, a long, delicious pull of his cock.

“Of course, puppy,” he responds immediately, as if he hadn’t pulled the words from Seungmin’s mouth himself. “You’ve been so good for me.”

Seungmin—hasn’t? Has he? He doesn’t know, can’t think; Jeongin twists his wrist just so and Seungmin is cumming so hard he thinks he blacks out for a few seconds. He doesn’t even feel relief, at first. He gapes against the pillow, uncomprehending, his chest rising and falling sporadically as he fails to catch his breath.

Jeongin maneuvers him gently onto his back, and Seungmin is a little confused at first at why he’s being so careful. Then he realizes—Jeongin’s cock is still buried in him. He hasn’t cum.

Seungmin is on his back now, with Jeongin between his legs. His hip joints ache from being spread, from holding him up, and he winces. Jeongin’s thumbs dig in where his legs meet his hips and massage—how had he known?

“Good, puppy?” Jeongin asks, and he’s… not sure. His arms are spread out across the mattress as he stares stupidly up at the ceiling. Jeongin gently tugs his hips up into his lap, and that’s a little better.

Seungmin doesn’t answer, and Jeongin doesn’t press him to, sensing he needs to come down. He rubs a hand firmly up and down Seungmin’s stomach and chest, which are clean—all of his release is smeared across Jeongin’s sheets, a problem for later. He also brings his hands to massage at Seungmin’s thigh muscles and his hip joints again, soothing the dull ache.

He grazes a thumb across Seungmin’s balls, inspecting them, and Seungmin shudders. He’s still hard. He doesn’t think that he’d gone soft, actually, though he hadn’t been very cognizant of any of that.

“I think you need to go again, puppy,” Jeongin admits, cupping his balls in one of his hands. He wrings a little bead of pre-cum from Seungmin’s cock and offers it to him. Seungmin thinks he could turn it down, but he’s boneless, and just lets Jeongin push the pad of his thumb into his slack, unresisting mouth. “But can you talk first?”

“Talk?” Seungmin echoes, his voice rough.

“I wanna check in with you,” Jeongin says gently, rubbing circles into his hip bones.

Seungmin groans. He’s started clenching and unclenching around Jeongin’s cock again; he doesn’t want to check in or talk. He needs more, he thinks with sudden clarity.

But when he starts grinding his hips, Jeongin’s grip tightens and he looks at him sternly. “Just a minute,” he says. “Yes or no, are you okay with the puppy stuff?”

Seungmin bites back the automatic answers that rises on his tongue, the I’m not a fucking dog, Innie. He thinks of how gently Jeongin says it, the spasms it sends through Seungmin’s body, and he nods. “Yes,” he whispers.

“Did I go too far with anything? The hair-pulling or hitting your balls or…?” Maybe it’s the vacant look on Seungmin’s face; Jeongin sighs a little and addends, “Yes or no?”

Seungmin struggles in Jeongin’s tight grip, trying to rock his hips. It had done something for him; he’d be fine with it happening again. He wishes Jeongin’s hand was gripping his hair now. “No,” he answers obediently.

“And making you ask permission was okay?” Jeongin asks. “Yes or—”

“Yes,” Seungmin whines, horribly impatient.

Jeongin frowns and swats at his balls again. Seungmin writhes—it hurts, but not as much as it had, now that they aren’t so painfully full. “Don’t cut me off.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles immediately.

“We’ll talk more when you’re more lucid,” Jeongin decides warily, wrapping a fist around Seungmin’s cock, not chiding when his hips cant upwards at the touch. “For now—can you cum two more times for me, puppy?”

Seungmin thinks so, his eyes rolling upwards to the headboard. Jeongin is handling the entire situation beautifully—it’ll be nothing to cum twice more with his cock in his ass, his hand on his cock, his sweet words in his ear.

They don’t talk after—they’re both too exhausted.

Seungmin’s hole is leaking Jeongin’s cum, and they’re both quietly reluctant to clean that up. They pretend to forget, Jeongin wiping off Seungmin’s cum-splattered torso and then motioning for him to move so he can strip his ruined sheets.

“I’ll, um,” Seungmin says, his face heating, “I’ll leak on your mattress.” He’s clenching as tight as he can to try to keep it from spilling on Jeongin’s sheets. He’s just trying not to make a bigger mess—he is a considerate hook-up.

Jeongin huffs in exasperation, but Seungmin sees the excited rise and fall of his chest, the hunger in his eyes. “You didn’t remind me,” he accuses. “I already threw the washcloth in the laundry.”

He could go get it. Or—he has more than one washcloth. It’s a weak excuse. Neither of them care.

“It’s your cum,” Seungmin reminds him, and the thought sends a little thrill through his chest. It’s Jeongin’s cum in him. Jeongin came inside him; Seungmin made him cum inside.

“Right,” Jeongin says. “Hang on.”

He pads to his closet. Reaches to the top shelf. Grabs a shoebox. Waddles back with a plug in hand. It’s modestly sized, not humongous and not miniscule.

“Hands and knees,” he instructs.

Seungmin should protest. Oh, no, stop being lazy, just get a new washcloth. Or jeez, just help me to the bath, then. Seungmin doesn’t want a bath. Seungmin doesn’t want a new washcloth. He rolls carefully to his hands and knees, arching his back—it makes the angle easier. That’s why. It makes the angle easier, and Jeongin can work it in quicker, and everything’s good.

Jeongin does not work it in quickly. “Sorry,” he mutters, toying with Seungmin’s rim with the plug. “Can’t get it, you tightened back up.”

Seungmin has not. He can feel the openness, the slight gape. The cum would have dripped straight back out if he hadn’t been clenching every muscle he could. He whimpers, because Jeongin is really being inept and unfair. He bucks his hips pitifully, whining when Jeongin finally slots it in. The base of it is flat, curving along Seungmin’s crack, and Jeongin rubs along it with his fingers, for no good reason at all.

“Okay,” he announces, smacking Seungmin’s ass lightly, a tremor to his voice. “Move. Lemme get the sheet off.”

Seungmin is trembling as he crawls off of Jeongin’s bed. He’s sensitive, and this is pressing up against every little nerve ending inside him. He can feel Jeongin’s cum trickling inside him with nowhere to escape. Jeongin dumps the dirty sheets on the floor for just a moment, then spreads a large blanket over his bare mattress, good enough for now. Desperate times, desperate measures.

“Hey, uh,” Jeongin says, and snatches a hoodie from his closet, throws it at Seungmin. “Put that on. Why the fuck are you still naked?”

Jeongin is still naked, and remains so as he darts into the hall to chuck the sheets in the wash. He must be confident that he won’t run into any roommates, and Seungmin obediently pulls the hoodie over his head, curling on Jeongin’s bed. There’s no reason for him to spend the night here. His bedroom is right next door, with proper sheets on it, and everything. His own hoodies are next door; why the fuck is he wearing one of Jeongin’s?

He can’t walk with the plug in. And it’s an awkward thing to have to return in the morning. He bears down on it, testing the size of it, and bucks his hips with a whimper.

He should be good, he should be okay now. Jeongin made him cum three times, and he shouldn’t be able to cum anymore.

But his body says otherwise, and his self-control has hit an all-time low. He whines and cups his hands to his cock, then ruts forward. It feels good, too good, even though his cock hurts a little bit and he’s freshly clean. He can stop. He’ll be able to hear Jeongin before he comes in, and he’ll stop, and Jeongin won’t even know he was doing this. He moans into the pillows and increases the pressure on his cock.

He hears Jeongin outside the door, hurrying back for his room, and he means to stop. He has every intention of stopping. He just—can’t. It feels too good, and something in brain switches off. Maybe it doesn’t matter if Jeongin catches him doing this, even if it’s embarrassing. They’d literally just had sex—Jeongin’s cum is plugged up in his ass.

“Hyung,” Jeongin breathes. Not puppy, not even Seungminnie or Min, and Seungmin takes his hands off himself like he’s been burned. He risks a glance up at Jeongin, scared, but all he sees on his face is greed, hunger. His voice softens. “Still, puppy?”

“Y-yeah,” he admits, shaky, lifting the hem of the hoodie to reveal his cock, fully hard again. “I—the plug?”

“It’s staying,” Jeongin insists, and lands on the bed to draw Seungmin into his lap. “And I’ll get you off again, since I’m so nice.”

There’s a pause in the air, and Seungmin wonders if Jeongin is expecting a thank you. But if he is, Seungmin doesn’t say it and Jeongin doesn’t press. He directs Seungmin to straddle his lap and then helpfully holds his hand under his mouth.

It takes Seungmin a second to realize, and then he’s hastily spitting into Jeongin’s palm for him. “Good boy,” Jeongin praises, which does absolutely nothing for him. No flurry in his tummy, no jerk of his cock. Just a normal, apathetic reaction to a very canine compliment.

Jeongin wraps his slick hand around Seungmin’s cock, using his other to hook him around the neck. “You can cum whenever, okay, puppy?” he murmurs, and then he brings his lips to Seungmin’s.

They’ve barely done this. It had been a brush of lips before, chaste—now, Jeongin presses his tongue in Seungmin’s mouth, though he’s still slow and gentle. It seems like he’s just trying to explore, honestly, and Seungmin is distracted enough that he’s obediently pliant and open for him.

Seungmin is already oversensitive, and it takes a few bare minutes of squirming in Jeongin’s lap, of Jeongin’s tongue soothingly stroking over his own, for him to finish. He doesn’t cum as much this time, just messily dribbling down over Jeongin’s fingers.

He has his forehead pressed to Jeongin’s as he comes down, breathing hard. Jeongin is holding his fingers up, dripping Seungmin’s cum, as if to inspect them.

And then he presents them to Seungmin, commanding, “Clean up your mess, puppy.”

He should balk. He should have a witty comeback. He should tell Jeongin to shove it up his ass and do it himself.

He pokes his tongue out and cleans his fingers silently, catching the little bit that has dribbled down to his wrist. It’s thin, and slightly salty, but not horrible.

When he’s finished, Jeongin ruffles his hair and praises, “Good boy.”

Yeah. Yeah, he is a good boy, he thinks absently. Jeongin settles them to lay side by side, wrapped around each other in an overtly clingy pose. Embarrassing, he thinks dizzily. How embarrassing for Jeongin, how obsessed he is with Seungmin. He bets he’s absolutely humiliated.

“Hyung?” Jeongin calls softly, while Seungmin is trying to dispel the whirling giddy feeling taking over his head.

“Hm?” he hums, his nose bumping Jeongin’s. He’s right there—how embarrassing, being so obsessed with your best friend. Seungmin nuzzles their foreheads together.

“Dog ears,” he chokes out. “You’d look good in dog ears. Little puppy.”

Humiliating. He’s so down bad for Seungmin he even wants to see him in dog ears. Will it be embarrassing for Seungmin to wear the dog ears? Maybe. But no more embarrassing than the fact that Jeongin wants it bad enough to actually bring it up. Seungmin feels a sick twist of glee in his chest.

Does he get off to the thought of Seungmin barking for him? Wagging a little puppy tail? He can’t hide a smile against Jeongin’s skin, pressed to his jaw.

“Mhmm,” he hums. “You would think that.”

“If I buy some, will you wear them?”

“Ha, that’s embarrassing,” he mumbles. “Yeah.”

Jeongin swallows audibly, heavy under Seungmin’s ear. “And… what if I get you a plug with a tail? A collar? Some paws?”

“It’s embarrassing how much you like me, you loser,” Seungmin scoffs, wrapped tight around Jeongin like he’s scared something is going to force them apart, tucked into his side possessively.

“So it’s a yes?”

“Yeah,” Seungmin sighs, nuzzling against the side of his face. “Whatever you want. You’re so embarrassing.”

“Sick,” Jeongin says, jostling Seungmin in a quest to pull his phone out. “I’m overnighting this shit.”

Loser. Simp. Seungmin can’t believe how clingy Jeongin already is, how bad he needs him. He winds tighter around him, like he has an innate need to crawl under his skin, and lets Jeongin online shop. He tucks his head up under Jeongin’s chin and drifts off.

Jeongin is so embarrassingly obsessed with him. He wakes him the next morning by kissing along his stomach, sucking small marks into the skin, and huffs in frustration when his alarm blares.

He pats Seungmin on the ass and ushers them both to the bathroom; he removes Seungmin’s plug and fucks him in the shower while he washes Seungmin’s hair for him.

They have dance practice, and Seungmin is a little unsteady on his feet. Jeongin hovers by his side, and he manages to make it through.

They could stay later at the company, but Seungmin is uncharacteristically exhausted and Jeongin seems overly excited, if anything, hovering around Seungmin. Felix and Minho opt to stay back at the company, which means no one is around to witness the package that Jeongin immediately swipes off their doorstep.

He settles Seungmin back against the headboard (with his sheets back on—that must have been why he was late getting out the door this morning) as he opens the package. Seungmin isn’t really paying attention to that—he’s staring at Jeongin, who is so obsessed with him he must feel so embarrassed all that time. His pretty cheeks probably flush pink when he thinks about Seungmin, and he twists the rings on his long, pretty fingers anxiously. How silly.

He’s too busy staring at the way Jeongin’s pretty eyelashes spill down onto his pretty cheek when he’s looking downwards, so he’s caught off guard when Jeongin reaches up to clip something—dog ears—into his hair.

“Is it cute?” Seungmin mumbles, reaching a hand up to feel. He hadn’t gotten a good look at them before, honestly. They were brown, roughly the color of his hair, he’d guess, and floppy, meant to lay flat against his hair. What he feels on top of his head seems to confirm that.

Jeongin’s eyes crinkle up in delight—whipped. “It is. You are.” He roots in the box again while Seungmin reflects on how embarrassing this is for Jeongin. Begging to see Seungmin dressed up like a dog—overnighting the items to do that? Humiliating.

“Seungmin, paw,” he says with a glint in his eye, and Seungmin has to suppress a smile as he daintily places a hand in Jeongin’s. There’s a little mitt that Jeongin works over his hand. It’s baby pink and rounded, almost like a paw. Seungmin is confused at first, but there’s a little bar inside for him to wrap his fingers around. Jeongin tightens it at the wrist, buckling then zipping so Seungmin can’t undo it with his teeth.

“Why pink?” he mumbles, staring at it as Jeongin sets to work on the other hand.

Jeongin shrugs. “Thought it’d be cute. I was right.”

The mitts are pretty lightly padded, not very bulky. Just enough to protect his knuckles, Seungmin would suspect. He lets his gloved hands fall heavily into his lap. It’s strange, but he’d be pretty useless like this. There’s no gripping or grabbing or clawing—just pawing.

“I, um,” Jeonign says, lifting something else before Seungmin’s eyes, “I got you this, too. I know we didn’t talk about it, so, like…”

It’s black leather, maybe as thick as two of Seungmin’s fingers, and pretty plain other than a silver buckle.

A collar. Jeongin wants to see him in a collar. He suppresses a giggle; what’s next, a leash? A harness?

Seungmin wiggles forward, proffering his neck with a wide grin, which Jeongin returns. He buckles it deftly, not so tight so as to constrain his breathing but tight enough that he feels it with every movement. A simple turn of the head and he’s reminded of the fact that it’s around his neck.

“Too tight?” Jeongin checks, wiggling a finger between the leather and Seungmin’s skin to make sure.

Seungmin shakes his head. “It’s good, Jeonginnie.”

Jeongin nods, then uses the finger he has hooked in Seungmin’s collar to tug him forward, towards his lips. Seungmin’s padded hands are in his lap, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. He realizes too late that he doesn’t have use of his fingers, and when he tries to reach out to grip at Jeongin’s shirt, he can’t do anything but paw at his chest, huffing against his lips.

“Paw at me all you want, baby,” Jeongin mumbles against his lips, holding Seungmin there by the collar.

Seungmin lets out a whine, frustrated that he can’t grab at Jeongin. He tries a couple more times, pawing at his chest futilely. Jeongin holds him there a few more moments, then brings their lips together quickly.

“Want your tail?” Jeongin mumbles.

Tail. Plug. Seungmin makes a confused noise, high in throat. “Shouldn’t that be for after…?” he murmurs.

Jeongin’s lips curve against his skin. “But I want to see you in it now,” he breathes.

Seungmin huffs. “You want me so bad it makes you look stupid.” As he huffs, he bobs his head for emphasis; the dog ears clipped to his hair bounce up and down with the motion.

Jeongin grins. “I’m willing to admit that, pup.”

He makes a triumphant noise, and Jeongin finally pulls back, going for Seungmin’s sweatpants. He might be able to struggle out of them on his own, but he’s glad that Jeongin is helping. He feels a little useless with the mitts on.

Jeongin makes no attempt to tug his hoodie off, and Seungmin frowns. “My hoodie?” he asks. Jeongin’s hoodie, actually. Jeongin had stuffed it over his head himself this morning, and Seungmin hadn’t cared enough to protest.

“Leaving it,” Jeongin decides. “You look cute. Come on, roll over.”

Seungmin does, and immediately feels Jeongin’s fingers, slick with lube, come to his hole. He weighs the pros and cons of begging versus preserving his dignity. And, yeah, maybe Jeongin is currently lacking in the dignity department, too, but Seungmin is wearing dog ears and a collar—so what does he have to lose?

“You should go ahead and fuck me,” Seungmin mumbles, scrabbling with his mitts at the pillows, trying to gain purchase and failing. “Tail for after?”

Jeongin swats at his ass, more teasing than genuinely corrective. “Tail for now, puppy,” he says, and it very much sounds like there’s no room for discussion.

Okay, fine. Maybe he’ll jerk Seungmin off. Or let him hump his thigh. He’s a puppy—you have to play with them. Jeongin strikes him as a responsible dog owner, anyway.

Jeongin hadn’t actually shown him the plug. This is more for him, anyway. It’s Seungmin’s turn to do him a solid, maybe, since Jeongin had cured his early-onset erectile dysfunction. Just two bros doing each other solids. One of them is wearing dog ears. Normal shit.

Jeongin stretches him with a couple of fingers before placing the plug at his entrance. Seungmin wiggles, wondering how big it is, if it’s going to drive him crazy while Jeongin is refusing to fuck him.

It slots in, and he arches his back at the sensation. Smaller than last night, he thinks, but only just. Also, there’s a hint of fur tickling the backs of his legs. He wiggles, and the fur sways with him. When he pivots around, he catches a glimpse of it—brown fur, slightly wolfish, and hanging not quite to mid-thigh.

“Let me see,” Jeongin murmurs, grabbing Seungmin by his wrists and gently guiding him to kneel facing him. Jeongin cocks his head to consider him, and Seungmin cocks his head straight back, which seems to amuse Jeongin. Belatedly, he realizes it’s kind of a dog-like thing to do, he guesses.

Jeongin fusses, moves his tail around and readjusts his ears. He ends up shucking the hoodie off. When Seungmin tries to subtly move his paws down to obscure the fact that he’s maybe unreasonably hard, Jeongin smirks and pulls his paws up by the wrists. “Bad dog,” he says, and though there isn’t any real venom behind it, Seungmin pouts. He seems to be very seriously considering Seungmin, and he feels a little self-conscious under his stare. Like, obviously it’s hugely cringy and embarrassing how much Jeongin likes him, but… is maybe… Seungmin a little cringe, dressed like a puppy for Jeongin’s enjoyment?

Before his brain can latch onto that thought too hard, Jeongin holds his hands up and orders, “Stay.”

Seungmin scoffs. Jeongin hasn’t gone through any lengths to train him; he can’t expect an obedient dog straight off the bat! He tests his luck and flops back onto his back the second Jeongin turns around. The plug is a constant presence, but without having been fucked already, it isn’t driving him as crazy. He’d try to rub his paws against his cock if he thought there was any chance of it being possible. He doesn’t think it’s the right material to be pleasurable—probably by design.

Jeongin turns, armed with shoelaces, of all things, and looks endeared rather than exasperated by Seungmin’s disobedience. “We’ll work on training,” he promises, patting Seungmin on his exposed belly. He flings a leg over Seungmin’s lap to straddle him and he lifts halfway off the mattress, excited, already grinding his hips.

But Jeongin slaps his sensitive inner thigh and says, “No.” Then he presses Seungmin’s right paw to right shoulder and begins to wrap the shoelace around his bent arm. “I’m trying something,” he informs Seungmin, whose face probably registers confusion. “I’ll buy proper rope if we decide we like it.”

We… decide… Does Seungmin like the ears? Ambivalent. Does Seungmin like the mitts? …Don’t tell Jeongin, but yeah, kind of. Does Seungmin like the collar snug around his throat? Abso-fucking-lutely. And the plug buried in his ass—jury is out. Maybe if Jeongin would fuck him first.

Seungmin gets the idea of what Jeongin is doing after his right arm is bound. He can’t move his arm but for the shoulder joint and the wrist, flopped back in a position a dog might be in when it’s on its back, He already can’t do much with his paws, but when Jeongin binds his left arm, he won’t even be able to paw at Jeongin.

He wriggles, not really in protest, but more at the realization. He… likes it, he thinks, the idea of being at Jeongin’s mercy, and before he can even think to hide this fact from Jeongin, he smirks triumphantly and murmurs, “Remind me to buy proper rope before we go to bed, alright, pup?”

Seungmin sniffs and squirms. Jeongin has tied the shoelaces in pretty bows under his wrists, crisscrossing over his skin. “Not too tight, right?” he checks, wriggling a finger under the way he had with Seungmin’s collar.

Seungmin shakes his head. “I—am I going to bed like this?” he sniffs.

“No, puppy,” Jeongin assures him hastily. “No, no. Well, maybe in part, if you want. But we’ll untie your arms and let you spread your fingers out, at least.”

Seungmin nods, blinking up at Jeongin. He can’t really get up out of this position, not without great effort on his part.

Jeongin wrinkles his nose at him, like he’s unbearably cute when he’s the slightest bit confused. “C’mon, pup,” he says, and settles against the headboard, tugging Seungmin up against his chest. “We’ll snuggle for a little.”

He whines, his wrists wriggling as much as they can. “Jeonginnie,” he complains. “My cock.”

“Mm,” he hums, and reaches down to give it a single stroke. “I see it. Cute.” Seungmin frowns, but Jeongin strokes his hair and mumbles a, “Be a good boy,” and, well. Seungmin can’t reverse psychology his way out of this.

He nuzzles his head up under Jeongin’s jaw, his back to Jeongin’s chest. Jeongin stretches an arm down over Seungmin’s shoulder to absentmindedly scratch and rub at Seungmin’s belly. Belly rubs, he realizes belatedly—it kind of feels good. Not as good as Jeongin stroking his cock might feel, but he’s glad to get attention regardless.

With his other hand, Jeongin pulls out his phone; Seungmin almost groans when he hears the title music of Jeongin’s Latest Mobile Game Obsession. He’s going to be trapped here a while.

But he is getting belly rubs and Jeongin is pretty comfortable to lay on. Maybe beggars can’t be choosers. Seungmin lets his eyes shut and nuzzles closer up under Jeongin’s chin.

Seungmin wakes to a faint buzzing in his fingers, like they’ve fallen asleep. He tries to stretch out, and—right. He’s bound.

“Hurts, puppy?” Jeongin asks sympathetically, rubbing circles into his hip bones again. He’s settled between Seungmin’s legs now, his ass propped up in Jeongin’s lap. He’s stroking Seungmin’s tail; he can sense the slight jostling of his plug as he does.

He nods after a moment’s hesitation. “Fell asleep, I think,” he pouts.

“Your arms?” Jeonging checks with a smile, already moving to tug at the bow he’d tied. Seungmin’s right arm unfolds like a ragdoll’s, the paw hitting heavy against the mattress. Jeongin’s fingers massage up and down, from wrist to shoulder, working the tingles away. “You were a good boy for me,” he praises, and Seungmin tries to tamp down the embarrassing butterflies he feels.

“Were?” he challenges instead.

“Are,” Jeongin corrects with a smile, releasing his left arm. “How are your fingers? You were asleep for a while.”

Seungmin tries to flex them on instinct, but they don’t really budge. He assesses. They don’t hurt or tingle. They’re a little sweaty, but not catastrophically so. “They’re fine,” he insists, melting as Jeongin massages his left arm.

“I’ll leave your paws for now, then, pup,” Jeongin decides. “And I’ll research how to bind your arms better. Maybe a proper harness.”

He nods distantly. That sounds like Jeongin’s job, not something he needs to be involved in. He clenches on the plug still buried in his ass, as if just now remembering it, and rocks his hips hopefully in Jeongin’s lap.

He laughs. “Yes, puppy, okay, because you were so good.”

“Were?”

“Are,” he corrects immediately.

Jeongin’s naked—when had that happened? When Seungmin had knocked out, probably. For some reason, he’s imagining himself asleep as dogs do, belly exposed and one leg occasionally thumping or kicking out.

Jeongin’s fingers prod around his rim, tickling his skin with the fur of his tail. “Want my fingers?” he asks, teasing.

“Your cock,” Seungmin protests immediately.

“Maybe if you bark for me,” Jeongin considers, tugging at Seungmin’s tail. It sends an unexpected jolt of pleasure up the base of his spine, and he shudders.

Still—will he degrade himself so? Is there not a scrap of dignity left?

“Meong meong,” he says sardonically, flatly.

Jeongin brightens anyway, rubbing vigorously at his belly. “Good boy!” he says in a doting, over-the-top way that makes Seungmin’s blush up the ears on top of his head.

Yeah, this is super embarrassing for Jeongin. His stomach probably feels like he has a hundred million butterflies swarming. He’s so obsessed with Seungmin, so whipped, such a loser.

Still, Seungmin gets what he wants. Jeongin moves his hand from his belly and gently eases his tail out. Seungmin whines at the empty feeling and stretches out for Jeongin, intending fully to beat him with his useless paws until he puts his cock in him.

He doesn’t have to resort to such violence, thankfully. Jeongin grabs one of his wrists and pins it to the mattress. The other comes to clutch at his hip, and he’s gliding easily into the empty space left behind by the plug.

Was it 24 hours ago that Seungmin was convinced that his dick was broken, that he’d never cum again? It seems laughable now, the twitch his cock gives when Jeongin bottoms out and pumps his hips against Seungmin’s ass.

“Feel good, pup?” he asks, his voice husky.

He whines as he throws his head back, feeling his ears flop onto the pillow. Jeongin pauses to fondly pat his head, and then he goes straight back to pumping his hips in and out of Seungmin’s ass.

Seungmin’s going to cum embarrassingly fast, as if he’s the one obsessed with Jeongin, which is, of course, ridiculous. He blames Jeongin’s proficiency at sex, or maybe the butt plug.

Jeongin seems taken, too, bowing to Seungmin’s skin and mouthing at his collarbone. Seungmin whines, beating his infuriatingly ineffectual paws at Jeongin’s shoulders. He’s pressed their fronts together, which is really cute and all, but Seungmin needs friction on his cock, and if it has to come from his stupid little puppy mitts, so be it.

“What, baby?” Jeongin mumbles, begrudgingly lifting his body, though the pace of his hips hardly falters.

Seungmin shoves a baby pink paw between their bodies in a desperate effect to hump against his cock.

“Oh, puppy, no,” Jeongin says, plucking his paw away. “Your paws are no good for that, let me.”

Seungmin lets his paws flop back uselessly to his chest and Jeongin takes care of everything. There’s something nice about it, he reflects. He likes his useless little paw mitts, even though they’re frustrating sometimes.

Jeongin strokes Seungmin off in time with the strokes of his hips. He leans up to bury his face in Jeongin’s shoulder, his useless pink paws scrabbling for purchase. When he cums, Jeongin is murmuring, “Good boy, good boy…”

And he falls back to the mattress, his pretty pink paws thumping solidly onto his chest again. Jeongin’s hands grip tightly at his hips and pound harshly to get him the rest of the way there. Maybe he’s in a hurry to finish so he can snuggle Seungmin, rub his belly some more, he thinks dazedly.

He finishes inside; Seungmin wants to grip his shoulders and drag him on top so they can not move for the rest of the evening, but his stupid fucking paws only let him beat insistently at his shoulders.

“Wait, puppy, wait,” Jeongin insists, his voice hot as he mouths at Seungmin’s neck, just above his pretty little collar. “Need your tail, huh?”

He fumbles for it, seeming unwilling to move his lips from Seungmin’s neck. He comes away with it in the end, fingers closing around soft fur. He’s careful with it, inserting it the second his cock comes free from Seungmin’s hole. Then there’s only the mess up Seungmin’s chest to contend with.

It’s easily dealt with; Seungmin is pliant and content and accepts the messy fingers Jeongin offers him without complaint. “Good boy,” he praises, and rubs his hair again when he’s taken it all.

Only then does he unlock his silly little paws, undoing the zipper then the buckle and easing it gently off of his hand. He helps straighten his fingers, helps him crack his knuckles, and presses a kiss to every last one, because he’s grotesquely, mortifyingly down bad. He doesn’t even mind that they’re a little sweaty from the mitts.

He does the same to the opposite hand, with no less reverence. “Should I take your collar off?” Jeongin asks, his fingers coming to rub at the skin surrounding it, inspecting.

Seungmin hums noncommittally. It doesn’t hurt. If he’s being completely honest there’s something almost soothing about it. He’ll take it off when they’re in front of the other members, because frankly this is none of their business, but he could sleep in it.

“No, leave it,” he mumbles.

“And the ears? They’re fine?” Jeongin asks.

“I can’t even feel them,” Seungmin confirms, making grabby hands with his newly free fingers, slumping against Jeongin’s chest. He still has the furry little tail peeking from between his cheeks.

He is absolutely ready to knock back out, but Jeongin pulls his phone out. He’s expecting to fall asleep again to the noises of Jeongin’s mobile game, but after a few moments of typing, Jeongin is shoving a bright phone screen in his face.

“I already bought some proper restraints from an actual kink site for your arms,” Jeongin informs, and Seungmin squints his eyes at the bright light. “But do any of these interest you?” he asks innocently.

A pet website. He’s on a legitimate pet website, navigated to the dog toy section. Seungmin almost rolls his eyes—but, like, there’s a pretty cute fox chew toy with an interesting corduroy-like texture. Seungmin might be curious what it would feel like in his mouth and also against his cock, and he automatically taps to add it to Jeongin’s cart.

And then he has to snatch the phone from Jeongin to look properly. Anything with a loud squeaker is getting fucking added, so when Jeongin isn’t paying him enough attention he can annoy him with it. He adds a few more cute plushies, a few annoying squeaker toys, and a tennis ball, just because he thinks Jeongin will go crazy for it, and passes the phone back to Jeongin.

Maybe he raises an eyebrow at the quantity Seungmin has added to his cart, but he doesn’t say anything—and Seungmin is already nestled back down against his chest with his eyes close.

“Hey, overnight it,” he mumbles, nudging at Jeongin’s side. “I want that little fox plushie.”

Chapter Text

Jeongin is undeniably obsessed with him, so how can he do this to Seungmin?

He had been as doting as ever when they finally get alone, Jeongin’s door firmly locked. He’d kissed him a ridiculous amount as he got all his gear on, praised him the typical amount (which is, of course, incessantly).

Seungmin had pressed his hips back in a contented stretch when Jeongin had slotted his tail in, expecting to maybe full-body flop on his chest and doze until Jeongin felt like fucking him.

Jeongin had pressed a kiss to his lips and walked across the room to his desk, where he’s now playing games on his computer.

Seungmin huffs and places his chin down on his crossed paws, watching Jeongin warily. He doesn’t seem to give Seungmin any notice, which is absolutely unacceptable.

He considers his options. Getting himself off is impossible—his paws won’t let him and the last time Seungmin had humped one of his toys without permission, Jeongin had hauled him off by the strap at the back of his harness (a new addition) and chastised him with several slaps to his inner thighs. He clenches around his tail, a whine at the back of his throat.

His eyes land on one of his toys, shoved innocently to the bottom of Jeongin’s closet because Jeongin absolutely hates the thing. It’s hard for Seungmin to wrap his mouth all the way around it—a stuffed hamburger—but once he gets it he can squeak the thing over and over, noisily. Hence why Jeongin hates it. But, anyway, if he does that, Jeongin can confiscate it and put it up on the desk, where Seungmin can’t reach it.

So, he could ask Jeongin what the deal is. Reassurance that he’s not actually being ignored would be nice, he thinks. He has blanket permission to speak if he needs to, to voice anything that makes him uncomfortable or anxious, and he takes advantage of it from time to time—Jeongin never scolds him for speaking up, even if it’s to make a snarky comment.

But… there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to. This isn’t important enough to speak up about, thinks. He can’t quite explain it, but he has his silly paws on and his floppy ears. He’s not allowed to stand on two legs and he sleeps curled into a little ball and flops over for Jeongin to scratch his belly. He doesn’t want to talk, because then that might lead to an adult conversation, and Seungmin’s brain is switched to puppy, not responsible adult capable of having lucid conversation.

So he gets down from the bed gingerly. Jeongin’s bed is a little high, and it’s difficult to manage on all fours, so he gives it his utmost concentration. There’s enough space under Jeongin’s desk for Seungmin to fit, he thinks, and he squishes around the sides, then settles between Jeongin’s spread knees.

And he lets his forehead plunk forlornly to Jeongin’s thigh. There’s a whine high in his throat, and Jeongin looks down between his legs.

“What’s wrong, pup?” he asks, scratching through Seungmin’s hair, getting him right behind the ears. He melts a little, slumping against Jeongin’s leg. “Cute,” Jeongin notes, but returns to his game.

Seungmin huffs. He’s still being ignored. He brings his paws up to scrape at Jeongin’s thighs, but he’s in an intense part of the game. In a stroke of brilliance, he brings his paws straight to his crotch, because pawing there is sure to get his attention.

There’s no real skill involved, not when he’s incapacitated by his stupid paws. He bats them dumbly against Jeongin’s crotch, pleased when he watches the bulge grow. Jeongin will probably fuck him stupid into the floor, Seungmin thinks with satisfaction.

Jeongin doesn’t. He strokes his hair fondly and mumbles, “Down, boy.”

Seungmin flops to his belly noisily, huffing, making his irritation known. He’s mostly obedient—when Jeongin gives a direct order, he tries to obey. His paws are crossed under his chin, making a little cushion, and he nuzzles against Jeongin’s ankle, the bit of skin he can reach while being in a good down position, the way Jeongin has trained him.

He stays like that for a while, blissfully hazy, but—he’s horny. Just because he’s horny doesn’t mean he has to get fucked right now, but he definitely wants Jeongin’s attention on him. Maybe he should take a different tack. Jeongin is hugely, embarrassingly down bad for Seungmin (which, oddly, Jeongin himself never really seems embarrassed about), all the more so when Seungmin is leaning into his puppy role.

He leaves Jeongin’s feet to pad to the edge of the bed—his fox is there. It’s tattered now, having had to have been washed a few too many times—it’s a regular reward in training for Jeongin to let Seungmin get himself off against the fox plush.

But he’s clean now, if raggedy, and Seungmin gently clamps it between his teeth. He has to readjust it gently to locate the squeaker. It’s not an annoying squeaker like his hamburger; actually, when Seungmin is rutting down against it, sometimes it sounds, and it never fails to embarrass him and delight Jeongin. But he clamps the squeaker between his teeth and pads back between Jeongin’s legs.

He's been taught to keep all four paws on the floor, but he’s a little too excited, and his front paws come up on Jeongin’s hips. He gnashes his teeth on the squeaker to get his attention, as if his pretty pink paws on his legs didn’t already.

“Down,” Jeongin scolds, pushing his paws off. “Sit.”

With great self-control, Seungmin manages to land in a sit, and squeaks his fox toy expectantly.

Jeongin works the fox from between Seungmin’s teeth—he’s a little hesitant to give it up, since it’s his favorite, and he resists. “Drop it,” Jeongin says sternly, and Seungmin obediently releases his teeth. Jeongin scrutinizes the fox, looking down at Seungmin. “This isn’t a fetch toy.”

If Seungmin were in a different headspace, he might say Yeah, no shit, I don’t want to play fetch. As it stands now, he bumps his head pathetically against Jeongin’s hand, letting a whine slip from his throat.

Jeongin knows better than to throw the fox for a fetch—Seungmin would pitch a fit. Instead, he fits it back in Seungmin’s teeth and pats his head. “Go lay down, puppy,” Jeongin says, though it sounds like more of a suggestion than an order. “Let me finish this game.”

Seungmin doesn’t want to wait for Jeongin’s stupid game to be over, and he flops his head dramatically in his lap, squeaking the fox in his mouth occasionally.

Jeongin doesn’t seem any closer to finishing his game, but his cock is steadily growing beneath Seungmin’s cheek—his only give that he’s into this. Once Seungmin notes this, he abandons the fox, letting it fall to the floor, and nuzzles into his crotch. It smells like Jeongin, like the traces of him he catches on his clothes, but so much more potent.

Jeongin is in jeans, and Seungmin stands zero chance of getting them undone with his stupid paws, but he drags his tongue along the rough material, trying to communicate to Jeongin what he wants.

Jeongin ignores him except for a firm hand on his head and a slight press of his hips upwards, and Seungmin finally gets desperate enough to use his words.

“Jeonginnie,” he mumbles pathetically, nuzzling into his crotch.

“Yes, baby?” Jeongin responds immediately, glancing down. Seungmin paws emphatically at his cock again, and Jeongin smiles. “Okay, okay, hold on.”

He unbuttons his jeans with his stupid, deft fingers and pulls his cock out for Seungmin.

But before he swallows it down, he looks back up at Jeongin. “How much longer?” he asks in a murmur, and Jeongin softens.

“I really am just finishing this game, puppy—five minutes? You need me to fuck you?”

Seungmin considers. No, not really, he just—he wants Jeongin’s attention on him. He’s so used to it that now that it’s been withdrawn, it feels unbearable. He shakes his head, lapping once at the head of Jeongin’s cock. “Not necessarily,” he mumbles. “Just—attention.”

“Okay, puppy,” Jeongin says, stroking his hair. “Be good for five minutes and then you’ll have my undivided attention.”

Seungmin doesn’t give an actual blowjob. He complains to Jeongin that it’s too hard without the proper use of his hands and it doesn’t feel right like this. But he does lap his tongue all over the length of it, almost lazily. When fluid collects at the tip, his tongue dutifully darts out to lap it up. He doesn’t think it’s anything that would necessarily get Jeongin off, but he seems to like it anyway, and he leaves one hand on Seungmin’s head, stroking him.

Don’t misunderstand—they have normal sex, too. Then, Jeongin might fist his hands in Seungmin’s hair and fuck his mouth properly, something they both enjoy, but this isn’t the time for it.

Jeongin throws the controller down, muttering, “Fuck.”

“Did you win?” Seungmin mumbles, slurring slightly, but Jeongin hears him, anyway.

“Died,” he says glumly, then sneaks a glance down at Seungmin. “One more game?” he tries.

Seungmin scowls, then leans over and sinks his teeth into Jeongin’s thigh, through the material of his jeans, to let him know just what he thinks of that.

“Okay, okay,” Jeongin says, resting his big hand on Seungmin’s head. “Come on, we’ll snuggle, clingy boy.”

He leaves Seungmin to get up on the bed himself while he roots through a box in his closet, where they tend to keep all overflow items for—for this. For whatever this is that they do. Weird dog thing that has spiraled out of control and that Seungmin would probably keel over from embarrassment about if anyone else knew about it.

He and Jeongin are… in too deep, maybe. They have an embarrassing secret together, where Jeongin is into Seungmin acting like a dog and Seungmin is maybe kind of sort of too deep into the dog headspace, and now they have to keep it from everyone else. It’s too weird, too embarrassing—how do you even explain liking something like this?

Seungmin doesn’t have to care about that, not with Jeongin. He flops on the bed and lays obediently still while Jeongin bends his elbows, secures his wrists to his shoulders. He always gets a little squirmy tied up like this, and Jeongin doesn’t help.

Once he’s secured, sprawled on his back, Jeongin sets to teasing him, running his fingers across his exposed torso and knowing he can’t wriggle away or fight back.

His cock is so hard, leaking onto his stomach, and he knows Jeongin can see it, the fucker. He’s been made to wait without attention for too long and now he—he just wants Jeongin. No teasing, no going slow—he wants Jeongin.

“Been good, right?” Seungmin mumbles, almost whining.

“So good,” Jeongin affirms, rubbing the tips of their noses together, because he is disgusting. Disgusting and hugely embarrassing and downbad. How don’t his cheeks go pink every time he does something like this to Seungmin? He pulls back to stroke his cheek. “Talkative today, puppy. You okay?”

He wriggles, though Jeongin’s hands go still as he waits for a response. And, yeah, he doesn’t usually talk a lot during this. If he does, it’s to break from his headspace and make a snarky comment. But he’s—he just needs reassurance today.

He wants Jeongin so deeply, so profoundly, and it catches him off guard, the depth of it. He’d want Jeongin even outside of this thing they do, but something about being so helpless before him is really amplifying it.

Their faces are close, Jeongin’s eyes bouncing around Seungmin’s face, searching. “‘m good,” he insists in a mumble, embarrassed. “Just—no teasing?

Jeongin’s face spreads in a grin. “Been teased enough, puppy?”

He nods pitifully, and Jeongin brings a slick hand down to wrap around his cock. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be teasing, either, but Jeongin has a penchant for starting slow when Seungmin is like this, to working him up to it gradually. His grip is lazy, his pace leisurely.

“Jeonginnie,” Seungmin chokes out, his paws flopping uselessly where they’re braced by his head.

“Shush, okay,” Jeongin murmurs, and he reaches to pull more insistently at Seungmin’s cock.

The pathetic thing is, it doesn’t take much like this, with Jeongin’s full and undivided attention on him, with his voice telling he’s a good boy or a pretty puppy or whatever other nonsense strikes Seungmin’s deranged brain just right. He’s been humiliatingly close, of course, due to Jeongin’s refusal to acknowledge him, but now that he has actual, undivided attention, he finds himself hurtling towards the edge at an alarming speed.

He’d cover his face with his paws if he were able, but restrained as they are, all he can do he stretch his face up into the crook of Jeongin’s neck and whine pitifully.

“Cute, puppy,” Jeongin praises in a mumble. “You’re shy about feeling good?”

It’s natural like this, Seungmin thinks. It’s an inherently embarrassing thing, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still get him off. Jeongin lets him hide away, anyway. He’s been annoyingly in tune with what Seungmin wants, always, and he’s grown to have a sickening amount of trust in him. If Jeongin lets him hide, it must be fine. If Jeongin were to press him into the pillows so he can see his face, well, then that must be what Seungmin needs. Jeongin knows best, and it’s a comfort.

Seungmin vaguely gnaws and licks at the skin of Jeongin’s neck, too overwhelmed to stick to any one thing—and he thinks that Jeongin likes it like that.

Despite how on edge he feels, his orgasm still manages to take him by surprise. Jeongin seems to expect it, though, catching the majority of his release across his fingers.

It makes Seungmin’s stomach turn, because he knows what that means, and it isn’t something he would ever elect to do…

“Open, puppy,” Jeongin says gently, and—Jeongin knows best. It’s a cardinal rule for Seungmin in situations like this, thought he would never actually voice it to Jeongin.

He opens his mouth and tastes the bitter tang of his own release on his tongue. He grimaces but Jeongin doesn’t seem to mind, especially as he laps at Jeongin’s fingers obediently despite the horrid taste flooding his mouth.

“Good boy,” Jeongin says, and flops on his back. “Nap for now, yeah?” He drags Seungmin on top of him and Seungmin goes easily, melting against his chest when his hands come to scratch at the back of his head, behind his ears.

Maybe, he manages to think, it’s that he doesn’t have to think during these sessions. There’s something comforting in the absolute way Jeongin takes care of him, in the way that he knows that Jeongin is doing what is best for him.

And as quickly as it materializes, the thought vanishes. As much as he’s prone to overthinking, he doesn’t think much at all, like this—it’s a comfort, just like Jeongin’s fingers scratching along his scalp, the thump of his heart beneath Seungmin’s ear.

Seungmin doesn’t even think before directing himself to Jeongin’s room. Not that he never spends time in his own room, but it’s becoming more and more of a habit to seek Jeongin out.

Well, no. They’ve always been close. They continue to be close. It’s nothing unusual or weird.

He enters without even knocking, no grand to-do. Jeongin is lounging in bed on his phone and looks up when Seungmin enters. “Didn’t know you were coming over,” he notes, though he doesn’t sound upset. He scoots up a little more in bed, propped up against the headboard, and Seungmin dive bombs onto his bed without further ado.

“Me neither,” he says, crawling onto his side and stealing a pillow. “Want me to fuck off?”

“Nah,” Jeongin says, and turns back to his phone.

Their silence is companionable, as it always is. They’re usually good at just existing together, unless they’re bickering. Seungmin doesn’t even pull his own phone out, just absently watches Jeongin scroll and occasionally snort at something with amusement.

The silence stretches. Seungmin fidgets, then figures he’s cold, and crawls under Jeongin’s blanket without asking permission. Why the fuck would he need permission for anything in Jeongin’s room?

After a prolonged stretch of comfortable silence, Jeongin casts a glance his way. “Were you wanting to fuck, or…?”

Seungmin furrows his eyebrows. “No,” he says in mild confusion. He used to hang out in Jeongin’s room all the time without fucking. That’s what he’s doing now.

Jeongin shrugs. “Okay,” he says mildly.

Seungmin kind of dozes. He thinks he’s always fallen asleep easier in Jeongin’s bed than his own; he should really ask where he got his mattress. Or maybe it’s his cooling sheets. It’s definitely something.

It’s late; Seungmin had taken Changbin up on an offer to watch a movie, and he’d intended to head to his own room to knock out, but here he is in Jeongin’s. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s fallen asleep in Jeongin’s room and it won’t be the last.

Jeongin yawns and chucks his phone on his nightstand; the noise makes Seungmin crack an eye open, even though it’s dark and he can barely see anything.

Jeongin says, “Night,” and before Seungmin can respond, drops a quick kiss on his lips.

He freezes. Do they do that? Kissing? Not really. Like, when they’re fucking, sure, sometimes. When Jeongin gets embarrassingly soft and tender he might kiss Seungmin. But that’s also kind of when they’re fucking.

They’re not fucking. Seungmin is just… existing here. But Jeongin kissed him goodnight and flopped over without any further commentary.

Whatever, Seungmin thinks. It doesn’t really matter. He’s not opposed to kissing Jeongin. “Night,” he echoes back belatedly.

Jeongin hums lightly back, and that’s that.

Seungmin wakes sprawled across Jeongin’s chest somehow, and he must jostle him when he gets up, for he blinks his eyes open with a groan.

“No, hyung,” he whines. “Not time to get up.”

Jeongin’s cute in the mornings, a tempting combination of whiny and grumpy. “I’m just readjusting, Innie,” he murmurs back. “You’re hot.”

“You’re hot,” he shoots back childishly.

Seungmin extricates himself and flops on the mattress beside Jeongin. “Go back to sleep,” he mumbles. “Early.”

Jeongin grunts in response, wrapping himself in the blankets to do just that—fucking blanket hog.

When he wakes again, Jeongin’s forehead is bumping at his shoulder. “Hyung,” he mumbles.

“Innie,” he returns, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“Wanna ride my cock a little?”

Seungmin assesses. He’s sleepy and content and warm, Jeongin’s front pressed to his back. He doesn’t think he’s really horny—but that doesn’t mean he can’t, to quote Jeongin, ride his cock a little.

He hums. “Yeah, sure.”

Seungmin kicks his shorts off as Jeongin does the same, pressed onto his back with his hands folded leisurely behind his head—a go ahead, get to it stance.

“Lube?” he mumbles, and Jeongin jerks his head to his bedside table—of course, it’s never far, is it?

He prods at his own hole perfunctorily, more to smear lube along the inside. At this point, he doesn’t usually need to be stretched, and if Jeongin bothers, it’s more to torment him than anything. And then he’s slicking Jeongin’s cock and sinking down with practiced ease, despite its size.

He and Jeongin are both sleepy, so when Seungmin fully settles, he takes a moment to get going. He grinds there for a second, reaching out to curl a hand around the top of Jeongin’s headboard. Maybe he is too sleepy to do this, he considers. He’s out of practice being the one to put in all the work, thanks to Jeongin.

“Hey,” Jeongin says, swatting lightly at his ass. “Come on, ride me.”

It irritates Seungmin—it’s probably the early hour, the heavy feeling still under his eyes. He frowns. “When’s the last time you rode cock?”

“I’m positive I could do better than this,” Jeongin responds, with an annoying grin it seems he’s unable to hold back. He wriggles on his back, his hands back behind his head. “Come on, rock my world.”

Seungmin huffs, but uses his leverage with his hand on the headboard to bring his hips up and down. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“You complain a lot,” Jeongin shoots back.

“You’re ugly,” Seungmin retorts, even as Jeongin’s cock nudges a spot inside him that makes him see stars.

“You’re ugly,” Jeongin says intelligently, a ghost of a smile at his lips. Seungmin is still frowning, his eyebrows furrowed angrily.

“You fuck ugly guys, then!”

Seungmin is expecting a similarly intelligent response, maybe something along the lines of well, you’re riding an ugly guy’s cock!

It doesn’t come. The smile that had been playing at the corner of Jeongin’s lips softens from amusement to fondness. His muscles relax, his chest falls, his eyes soften.

And then Jeongin is saying, “I love you.”

Seungmin’s hips fall to Jeongin’s, and it has nothing to do with the burning in his thighs. “You—what?” he asks. He heard him wrong, or this is an elaborate rib.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he mutters, his hands curling around Seungmin’s hips. “It was gross enough the first time.”

“No—but—you—” Seungmin attempts, then shakes his head to clear it. This is out of left field. There isn’t any precedent for this. Like, they fuck around sometimes. Jeongin is kind of embarrassingly obsessed with Seungmin, mostly when they’re fucking. That’s not love!

Well, so. Does Seungmin really know what love is?

Is it the fluttery feeling Jeongin gives him? The desperation he feels, even when Jeongin is right there? Is it their comfort around each other, the way their heads plunk together when they fall asleep?

Seungmin scrutinizes Jeongin briefly. It’s—He’s just Jeongin, as he’s always been. Seungmin doesn’t look at him and draw to a sudden realization, as if there’s an arrow to his heart. It’s the same old feelings he’s always had for Jeongin—more often and more intense lately–-but now he’s wondering if those feelings are love.

He wrinkles his nose. “Oh, disgusting,” he says, leaning back. He props one hand on the mattress behind him and brings the other one up in front of him like a shield. “Oh, gross. Am I in love with you?”

Jeongin nods gravely, a slightly nauseated look wrinkling his features. “It sucks, right? Makes me wanna hurl.”

“You make me wanna hurl,” Seungmin retorts. There’s some strange sensation happening in his body. His stomach is churning, he thinks there’s a flush rising to his face. But he most feels floaty and light—and he suddenly really wants to finish having sex with Jeongin, even though he’s ugly and annoying and makes Seungmin wanna hurl.

Jeongin’s winding up. “Your face—”

“Can you fuck me?”

Jeongin immediately opens his mouth to protest but shuts it back almost immediately. Maybe it’s the vulnerable look on Seungmin’s face, or maybe it’s the love he apparently feels. Seungmin wonders what it feels like for him, and then just as quickly decides he’s content with never knowing, because then he would have to have to have a discussion with Jeongin about how they love each other, and that’s so icky.

“Yeah, hyung,” he agrees softly, and gently guides Seungmin back into the pillows.

And that’s it. Just the two of them in the early morning, a vomit-inducing love confession, and their bodies rocking in tandem despite—or perhaps because of—it.