Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hey, Seonghwa…”

A voice, light and airy, parts through the heat waves.

It’s a hot summer afternoon in early July, and Hongjoong sits on the veranda of their dormitory with the sliding door left open, sprawled out on the floor. He stares up at the sky even though he speaks first, tongue sneaking out between conversation to lick at the chocolate coated ice cream in his hand.

Seonghwa’s eyes are closed when he hears it, pulling him out of a trance with the wind tickling his skin, rustling through the trees. It’s light, and not enough to beat the sweat beading up on the back of his neck. He passes Hongjoong a curious glance. Squints when the sunlight shines into his eyes. They haven’t talked in at least twenty minutes since coming out here. It feels too hot to even move.

The only thing to beat the heat has been stripping down to the last dignifiable garments of their clothing without being almost completely naked, leaving them in the thinnest tank tops their closets afforded, and shorts. And popsicles, with Seonghwa’s being of the blue raspberry variety.

Lethargic and slow from the sun sapping all their energy, it takes a minute for Hongjoong to find his words. But when he does, he voices the thought that seems to have silently preoccupied his mind.

“Why don’t you wrestle with me like the others?” He asks calmly, like remarking about the weather.

Seonghwa blinks at Hongjoong slowly. He knits a brow, licking another stripe down his popsicle. “What do you mean?” His tongue is cold and blue from the flavor.

“Like, you know. You’re always playing and fighting with Woosan, but never me.” Hongjoong waves his own ice cream around lazily as he talks, dispassionate in his words. It seems like a thought that's only just sprung into his mind mere moments ago, and now he’s voicing it aloud. He says, with a shrug that seems to suggest he’s not meaning much, “I feel like I’m getting left out.”

Seonghwa looks at him imploringly, which only seems to annoy Hongjoong when he catches it from the side. Hongjoong points his own now exasperated chocolate-vanilla bar at him. As if the train of thought should be obvious.

“Is it because everyone thinks they’re going to hurt me by accident?”

Seonghwa’s lips quirk up. He can’t help but to be endeared by the thing that is Kim Hongjoong, looking like a cherry tomato with his recently-dyed crimson hair.

“With the captain? Never. You’re the scariest person I know.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “That’s obviously not the reason.”

“We’re probably too mature for it,” Seonghwa reasons instead, but the captain just tuts under his breath.

“Not true, you play with Wooyoung all the time.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how you have to handle him.”

Hongjoong raises a doubtful eyebrow. “And you enjoy it.”

“Then… Maybe you are a little intimidating, I don’t want to question your authority.”

The redhead throws his head back to the veranda ceiling and groans.

Seonghwa smiles, a hint of something uncertain preventing it from ever reaching his eyes, although he can’t place what. The sun is so hot, and his thoughts so muddled, that he doesn’t question Hongjoong’s words the same way he figures Hongjoong, too, probably didn’t think this through very much. He decides to retreat into the comfortable silence. He lets the cicadas scream.

He’s preoccupied cleaning up another rivulet down his popsicle as the air seems to clear. Then, Seonghwa chooses his words carefully. The wind brushes against the tulle curtains lightly, the sky perfectly blue.

“So, you want me to roughhouse with you?” He doesn’t look at Hongjoong as he asks it, eyes pointed to the clouds. Airy, like asking the time, or the date. For several seconds, Hongjoong is silent.

“I guess, yeah.”

They don’t look at each other. Seonghwa thinks for a second, eyes wandering down to his popsicle. It’s not a big deal, right?

It’s so hot, the azure color has started melting off and dripping down his wrist, fusing together his strings of bracelets with sugary-sweet syrup. He licks his lips, sure his tongue is blue. Well, Hongjoong was being pretty straight forward, if he took it at face-value. Which he does. It’s usually best not to overcomplicate these sorts of things, even despite the feeling in his stomach.

He draws a deep breath, then he leans over and dangles his popsicle over Hongjoong’s head.

“Ack — hey!” Hongjoong yelps and flinches back. “What are you doing?!”

“Wrestling,” Seonghwa snickers, just as a bead of sticky-blue cascades down and plaps onto Hongjoong’s bicep. He yelps and flops sideways like it burns. Or it’s just cold.

Seonghwa crawls towards him, using his other hand to shove Hongjoong down by the soft of his belly, right where he’s sweaty and ticklish, and it rewards an ingratiating giggle. He holds the popsicle high in the air, just out of reach.

“This isn’t what I meant — you’re going to get it everywhere!” He sounds genuinely annoyed, but Seonghwa supposes that’s the point. He’s never been on the particularly peachy end when Woosan decides to start their shenanigans with him, so this is all par for the course. Hongjoong asked for the wrestling treatment and he’s getting it, to the best of Seonghwa’s capability.

In an effort to be a menace, Seonghwa lowers the popsicle closer to Hongjoong’s body with a shake, raining down droplets of electric blue. But when Hongjoong’s hand flies up to smack it away, the only result is the bar flying out of Seonghwa’s grasp.

Hongjoong shrieks and writhes back as the popsicle plaps onto his stomach, the melted remains rolling into his belly button in a little puddle as his obliques reflexively jump, offended at the frigid cold. Hongjoong flips sideways like a worm, plucking it off.

“Asshole!” Hongjoong barks, swiping at his sticky stomach unpleasantly. He raises his hand to his face a second later with a disgusted noise, coated with sticky blue. His other hand pinches the popsicle delicately like a murder weapon. “Oh, Seonghwa —”

Before he can get chewed out by the captain, Seonghwa reaches down and ruffles a hand through that pool of crimson hair. It cuts off everything about to pour from Hongjoong’s lips, replacing it with a petulant, sweet little groan.

“You’re really the worst, you know that? You ruined my shirt,” he laments, wrapping his hands around Seonghwa’s wrist to smear whatever he can of the sticky residue onto him. It’s a small act of revenge, but it works to make the elder retreat, smacking Hongjoong on the hip instead. Hongjoong jolts, knee going up instinctually.

His shirt has ridden up from the floor and his chest is exposed all the way up to his sternum, and that sight makes Seonghwa’s heart skip. There’s a beat of something — Seonghwa looking down at him, a hurried once-over of his person — but it’s enough to make Hongjoong falter.

“What?” He swats at Seonghwa's chest but Seonghwa is faster, snatching and pinning his wrist down. Hongjoong relents with surprising ease. He’s breathless, body still geared for defense, but he keeps still. Atoms humming electrically with adrenaline.

He sounds breathless. “You made a mess.”

Seonghwa flusters. He realizes he’s been caught staring, blinking back at Hongjoong owlishly. “Oops.”

Hongjoong’s mouth twists to one side. “Well don’t just sit there.”

Seonghwa hesitates for several seconds. “I’m… sorry.” It doesn’t sound even half as sincere as it should.

Hongjoong pauses then, flicking Seonghwa’s body a once-over where it nearly cages him. He can see the blue sky off the edge of the veranda behind him, sunlight coloring them in broad patches.

“That doesn’t get this ice cream off my stomach, does it?”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue. “Part of wrestling is having a loser. Clean it yourself…”

He pins Hongjoong down with more intent, easily wrangling the way the redhead fights back with a small smile. He seems delighted to be challenged finally, probably enjoying this more than he’d like to admit.

He shoves Hongjoong’s wrists down as he tries to fight upright and feels surprised at the total ease, something fluttering quietly in the pit of his stomach. Between the gasps of breath and their rising and falling chests, something is left lingering in the air. It occurs to him then, as Hongjoong smiles ear-to-ear and twists out of his hold, that maybe Hongjoong was looking for some kind of ulterior motive in this request after all.

Or maybe he wasn’t, Seonghwa quickly decides. Hating his falter when Hongjoong takes advantage of it and springs back, planting a bare foot onto Seonghwa’s chest. Maybe there was nothing to this at all.

Hongjoong doesn’t kick him, thankfully, but he shoves playfully enough to make Seonghwa rock backwards slightly where he’s sat on his calves. A hand flies out to grab Hongjoong’s ankle as his fingers encircle easily, pinning it in place. Hongjoong seems to regret the decision to sacrifice his limb like that, realizing the mistake he’s made, so when he jerks back, Seonghwa lifts his foot in the air and tickles him.

It’s cute and playful, and Hongjoong is brought to life like he’s been electrocuted, cackling to the veranda ceiling. He flops back on the concrete as his spine arches and Seonghwa scrapes his nails down the arch of his foot just in sync, matching the curve his body makes, spidering little electrons with the motion. Then, Hongjoong begs.

“Please, please!” He smacks Seonghwa’s knee where he can barely reach, his own leg trembling where it fights with every last thread of resistance, voice shaking. Seonghwa relents, but he doesn’t let go. He observes the picture curiously, unable to help himself. There’s little spots of dampness in the corners of Hongjoong’s eyes where he’s brought the captain to tears, shimmering in the golden sunlight.

When he realizes he’s being unusually quiet, and Hongjoong has noticed it too, his smile dies a little on his lips. He recovers quickly in hopes that Hongjoong wouldn’t notice, dropping the captive foot to the side teasingly, but they both know what they saw.

“Give me one good reason I should spare you.” He fakes braveness.

Hongjoong’s smile returns slightly, kicking Seonghwa gently with his other foot, but not enough to do anything. For some reason, it stays pressed to his belly, toes squished up into his shirt. Seonghwa’s fingers touch the top of his toes mindlessly.

“I’ll make you regret it,” he says also faux-bravely, clearly joking. Seonghwa exhales a laugh.

“But I don’t think you’ve gotten the full rough-housing experience yet.” He leans forward as a threat, hovering as if planning to pounce Hongjoong again, and it rewards the captain throwing his hands forward in defense, stopping Seonghwa moments before collapsing down on him. The popsicle he’d been barely saving this entire time gets crushed against his chest.

What results is that Seonghwa is hovering over Hongjoong with little more than his hands pushing against his sternum to keep their bodies from colliding completely, a blue splatter of sticky syrup bleeding into his white tank top. Seonghwa isn’t sure why he didn’t calculate this before making the motion, but now he’s suddenly regretting it, staring straight down at his best friend pinned under him on the floor.

Hongjoong seems to realize it at the same time, just as his eyes betray him. They sweep down Seonghwa’s person in a quick once-over and Seonghwa feels suddenly glued to his place, a nagging cold ebbing from the center of his chest. He freezes, wondering if Hongjoong can feel his heartbeat pick up a few beats in his ribcage, betraying the both of them. But he just blames it on the adrenaline, or the popscicle. Turning his ribcage blue.

“You should… make it up to me better,” Hongjoong suggests, trying to sound irritated as if complaints could save them, but it does the opposite. It leaves an implication in the air that has Seonghwa softly raising his brows, swallowing thickly.

“What?” He can’t help being confused. “Was I not… doing it right?” It all feels so perverse coming out of his lips, even though he means a different thing, and he tries to focus on it and not be weird and not think about other stupid things. But he just doesn’t know how else to please Hongjoong, when his goal post seems to be changing indeterminably, without Seonghwa ever knowing when and why.

Hongjoong hesitates for several more seconds, and then evades the question. “I think… you didn’t finish your popsicle.”

Seonghwa blinks. Oh, yeah. He looks down to it against his chest. “Well it’s probably ruined now.”

“It never touched the floor,” Hongjoong reasons. Seonghwa’s lips twist to the side. “And half of it is on me now,” he adds.

“So it’s basically inedible. What do you want me to do about that exactly?”

Hongjoong’s eyes travel down Seonghwa once again, thinking hard, then land on his own navel. “I think… you should clean me up now.”

He says it and it isn’t a question, or a suggestion. It’s an order. Plain and simple. And it’s so unexpected it makes Seonghwa freeze stupidly. He feels his guts tighten.

“I didn’t mean to,” is all he can think to say, pathetically.

“Why are you apologizing?” Hongjoong asks, and Seonghwa immediately realizes he’s been clocked effortlessly, his own stupid and doormat-ish reaction. Instead of doing what he’s been told. He isn’t sure how to begin to answer, so after a painfully silent moment, Seonghwa clears his throat.

“I’m usually not this close to you,” and his voice comes out embarrassingly unsteady. He feels his heart about to leap out of his throat. He isn’t even sure if it’s okay despite Hongjoong explicitly asking, but Seonghwa convinces himself he must be misinterpreting something. Anything.

But he definitely doesn't imagine Hongjoong flushing in the cheeks, the way his lip faintly curls in shyness and his ears twinge red. So he isn’t hallucinating, despite the sudden, intense wave of head-high that hits him at the sight.

“We’re friends, right?” He says softly, like a siren's song. “You can use your mouth.”

What? What? He feels his own mouth go cotton-dry.

Seonghwa’s impulses get the best of him as his eyes dart down just fleetingly to Hongjoong’s abdomen, amusing the absurd thought. A second later, a pair of hands reach out hesitantly, before finding his head. Hongjoong winds his fingers up into Seonghwa’s sandy hair almost hypnotically, pushing him once. Down.

He isn’t thinking, dazed by the heat and the intensity of the cicada’s beating their wings, as he descends Hongjoong’s body to his navel like a dog. It’s electric blue and smells sickly sweet, hovering over it as he draws a shallow breath. Hongjoong’s tummy is right there, closer than it’s ever been, so much that Seonghwa can make out each individual hair of his happy trail matted up with raspberry. It’s musky, tooth-rottingly sweet, and he wants to imprint the sensory into his mind forever. The smell of his sweat on this hot summer day.

He sticks his tongue out and drags it along Hongjoong’s stomach with a long, broad lick. He feels the obliques under him tense slightly, legs jerking once, faintly. Seonghwa must have surprised him. Did the captain think he wouldn’t do it?

It tastes good on his tongue, a mixture of body sweat and popsicle, and it’s Hongjoong. Close to it, anyway — but a thought dashes into his mind, hot and intrusive, of all the places he could taste instead. He can feel it on the tip of his tongue when he licks again, scraping against the flat edge of his cotton swim-trunk waistband, wondering if he could stick his fingers between and explore what's undoubtedly beneath.

He tests it, just to see, teasing his fingers along the band without pulling it back. His heart climbs in his throat but he tries to ignore it, still unaware of how far Hongjoong was allowing him, if any of this even meant anything or if it was just an absurd test of obedience. Just two friends, cleaning each other up. It’s important in idol groups to make sure your members follow your orders subordinately. Gotta make sure the dogs know their owners, and all. An exercise in conditioning.

Or Hongjoong isn’t sure how to ask for what he wants. Which leaves Seonghwa to guess, at times, at the risk of looking insane. So he hooks his two fingers, just two, into the waistband to gently tickle the skin beneath… —

The way Hongjoong tenses and flutters a hand down to grab his own makes Seonghwa think he’s right.

He freezes, too, jerking up to stare at Hongjoong and desperately scan his features. The captain looks a little foggy-eyed, squeezing Seonghwa’s wrist tightly. They lock eyes, breathing softly.

Hongjoong opens his mouth, and Seonghwa knows he wants to say something, maybe what he wants, say it, please, but after a second it seems he can’t quite find the words. His mouth moves open and closed for several seconds while struggling on silent words, contouring into twisted shapes, and then he closes it. It’s soft and his bottom lip glistens when his tongue darts out to wet it, like he can’t find it in himself to tell Seonghwa no, but ‘yes’ isn’t in his vocabulary, either. Mindlessly, as if to fill the unspoken uncertainty for him, Seonghwa climbs his body to find his lips.

Seonghwa hovers for one second, long enough for Hongjoong to push him away if he wanted, and then he crushes their lips together to taste their raspberry-chocolate fusion.

Hongjoong is sweet like the ice cream, Seonghwa immediately notices, and he feels a dopamine rush at the new pathway it instantly carves into his brain for now and forever that he’ll never be able to think about, or taste this brand without imagining Hongjoong’s lips ever again. How the veranda was hot and the sun so sweltering as their tongues intertwined bravely from their mouths, but his own was cold with the remains of his last bite and Hongjoong’s was hot, like an oasis in the Sahara. The forgotten ice cream bar droops abandoned to the side, melting where it hangs limp in Hongjoong’s careless grasp.

Seonghwa presses his tongue deeper, giving his captain something new to suck on. It makes Hongjoong moan and surrender immediately, recoiling his own tongue back, opening his jaw wider for Seonghwa to breach in and rake it along the roof of his mouth.

He kisses without self control, or predisposition. It just happens, quickly and sweaty, amazed when Hongjoong relents a small noise that feels like it keys directly into his spine. He’s shocked how much power a simple kiss can have over him. Things he’s only imagined in heady fever dreams coiled beneath his pillow, like the captain’s knobby knees bending and digging into his sides and fingers clumsily twisting into his knots of hair, unfolding before him in real time.

It feels surreal and dream-like. Like the summer heat. They kiss until their cold mouths, sugared up and colored blue, part with a thick string of saliva. It’s something he’s only seen in porn, but the day is so hot, and Hongjoong’s mouth is so wet, it’s all stuck together, everything everywhere. His shirt, even, is pasted to his chest with popsicle.

Still, Seonghwa hangs there with his jaw limp, lips wet and flushed with excitement. He realizes he’s panting like a dog but maybe that’s how he feels in Hongjoong’s presence, as pathetic as that is. Even now, he’s too afraid to say anything, so he stares stupidly as if he didn’t just try to greet Hongjoong’s tonsils with his tongue.

Hongjoong lets a tongue dart out across his bottom lip to clean what Seonghwa has left there, finally disconnecting them in a final swipe that makes Seonghwa’s heart jump. And something else shoot down his spine fast and hot, swallowing hard. It’s lewd and punishing all at once, as if he’s made a mess of something and he can’t explain the twist he feels in his gut at the thought. Whatever it is, it’s permanent and it can’t be taken back, and it all goes ingesting down his throat as Seonghwa watches his Adam's apple bob once, washing it away along with any chance of regret left.

They just kissed. With tongue. And the cicadas still scream. That goal post feels painfully tangible again now, so close Seonghwa could touch it, but he’s never sure. Was that enough? Will it move once more, once the captain sets his eyes ambitiously onto something new?

There’s a bated moment of hesitation, an intangible thread pulled taut in the air. But Seonghwa thinks if he asks now, why or how or when Hongjoong even decided he wanted this, it’ll all fall apart and that delicate thread will snap.

Moments flash behind his eyes. That time Hongjoong asked to sleep in Seonghwa’s bed and woke up straight-jacketed to his backside, something hard pressing against his tailbone. When Hongjoong borrowed his shirt, which he found later tucked under his pillowcase, a stain just barely visible in the pinkish-white. Banishing the thought and all accompanying emotions along with it, just balling it up and pitching it into the laundry where it belonged.

It was all just nothing back then, but now Seonghwa had to admit what he’d been denying all along. It was always something. Happening, blooming, growing, until all it took to incite the flame was one strong, punishingly hot summer day.

“Can I suck you off?” He asks brazenly, without any remnant of fear. He knows Hongjoong is hard. He knows Hongjoong is embarrassed to be, too. And Seonghwa, like always, would do anything for his captain.

Hongjoong blushes fiercely to be asked so directly. But then he nods fast and needily not even a second later, decisive suddenly now that he's being asked out loud, and Seonghwa glows. He was right. He feels his chest inflate again, the sun hot and Hongjoong’s body thrumming and alive under his touch, as he secures both hands to the sides of his hips. Seonghwa takes control with more confidence, dropping once again to Hongjoong’s stomach and opening his mouth. He lets his tongue drop out, that long and dextrous muscle he’s keen to brag about so much— more so when he knows Hongjoong is within earshot, because he’s thought about this, and thought about dragging his tongue along Hongjoong’s body while he’s stiff in his palm, more times than he can reasonably count. Seonghwa jerked off to it alone in his room when Hongjoong was away pulling late nights in the studio, or sometimes rarely, even while Hongjoong slept on the bunk above him so Seonghwa had to stifle his own moans into his pillow.

His fantasy is exactly what he executes, now that he’s given the chance. From the base of Hongjoong’s tummy all the way up his navel and into the little dip where pops of raspberry flavor firework across his tongue, Seonghwa drags the muscle like he’s starving. He hums sweet and serene, carving the dip out and lathering him wet, while his fingers bravely trespass that hem of his shorts where he hadn’t prior. Hongjoong’s skin is salty with sweat, tastes like his captain, and his cock jumps between his legs humiliatingly when the body under him jolts with a little gasp. Hands fist into his hair without pulling, telling Seonghwa that he’s enjoying this, but also to hurry. This weird foreplay makes Seonghwa painfully aware of how hard he is in his own shorts, suddenly. He aches.

He wants to know how far they’ll go, but again, he’s too scared to ask or make the move, so he waits for Hongjoong’s cue when a hand finally snakes down. Impatient fingers find themselves at his own waistband and push suggestively, inching the fabric down sliver by sliver of hip. Seonghwa leans back enough to trace the motion, hooking his fingers in, and then flicks Hongjoong another glance.

Excitement bubbles in his stomach, hardens between his legs, but also a knot of anxiety in his throat. He watches for a reaction as he slides the shorts down.

Seonghwa tries to hide his surprise when he finds that there’s absolutely nothing under them, and Hongjoong is completely bare. His cock pops out freely, half-hard against his sweaty stomach, dribbling a clear, sticky smear on his porcelain skin. It’s adorable. Sexy. Not too big, but not small either. After a second of Seonghwa realizing he’s staring, he darts Hongjoong a glance just to find the boy averting his gaze, throwing an arm up bashfully over his eyes. His heart skips in his chest with a pirouette of fuzzy and utterly devastating affection, taking him entirely by surprise.

“You’re so cute,” he blurts out aggressively without thinking, unsure of what he even means, but it wants to tear out of his throat so bad it’d strangle him. That Hongjoong has a cute cock, or is cute in general, he doesn’t even care. He’s always secretly wanted to fuck the cutest boys in high school. It’s his type, he knows it. Such a glaringly gay fag with a preference. At least, he used to think so, when he was sure everyone in class could tell he was different and it’s what they were all thinking.

Hongjoong is forced to peek from under his arm incredulously, only for his brow to furrow in annoyance. Seonghwa is immediately lanced through with regret at the sight. He can’t believe he’s just basically treated a predator lion like a house cat.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, afraid he’s somehow made Hongjoong angry with the remark.

Only, Hongjoong looks exasperated by the compliment yet he blushes to his hairline, his face fizzling into something he thinks he’s never seen before— a curled-lip pout, before he whines. “Please, already. Seonghwa…”

Seonghwa’s shorts feel unbelievably tight in this moment. He smiles apologetically, dizzy, and says, “Okay.” It’s all he can, his own voice sounding a thousand miles away to his own ears.

He turns his eyes back to Hongjoong’s cock to spare him, but his body betrays him. Seonghwa is pleased to find it leaking already, or perhaps the attention has the captain bothered, squirming lightly under him. It swells hot in Seonghwa’s stomach to think Hongjoong likes to be seen by him in this way. That he can’t help getting hard and, for all Seonghwa knows, might not have been able to in the past, either.

His mouth drops open and he brings Hongjoong into his fist, delicate with his touch as he brings the tip against his pillowy tongue. Flavor flushes his palette, slightly salty and musky, distinctly Hongjoong in a way that blends together with the palette this encounter has artistically selected. His eyes flutter shut as he tries to filter out all other senses, all feeling of very little consequence against the mere smell and taste of the captain being enveloped sweetly around his lips. Then, slowly, he starts lowering himself down.

Hongjoong startles under him with each sensation, hips twitching lightly, breathing picking up under him like a prey rabbit. His fingers find themselves holding on to Seonghwa’s knots of bronzey hair to keep control, puppeteering the exact speed and rate of his mouth enveloping him so it’s not too fast nor too slow. Seonghwa follows obediently, dizzied with the luxury of being Hongjoong’s puppet as he moves at measured tempo. He wants Hongjoong to have all the control, just as he always has.

He gags, throat constricting lightly, when it breaches the back of his throat. Seonghwa has always been good at using his mouth and he tries to impress Hongjoong with it now, drawing a slow breath from his nose, surprised when his exhale tickles the soft fat of the captain's tummy. There’s a beat of hesitation as Hongjoong himself seems to notice it, considering pushing more, but Seonghwa’s patience seems to green-light him. With twisted satisfaction, watching from the downward angle where he’s sprawled out on the veranda, Hongjoong pushes Seonghwa’s head until his nose crushes uncomfortably against his pubic bone and can’t possibly go any further. Like a test. Then, Seonghwa gags.

His throat constricts but he doesn’t cough, quietly struggling around the length. When Hongjoong’s hands don’t seem intent on keeping them there, he takes it as his cue to begin bobbing his head back.

He pulls back first, all the way, to suck in a pathetic and drooling breath. And then he dives back down almost without hesitation, eagerly taking Hongjoong into his mouth instead of air.

For the first time as he finds a rhythm, Seonghwa dares to sneak a glance up to Hongjoong through dark lashes. What he sees is Hongjoong stretched out beautifully on the veranda, sunlight pouring over every inch of him where his shirt is pushed up to his nipples, glistening chest in sweaty glory, as he writhes softly from the pleasure. It rises and falls with struggling tempo, sucking in olympic breaths not to lose himself to Seonghwa’s ministrations, and it floods him with so much pride that he wonders if Hongjoong was close enough he could simply come any second from this alone. He sure looks like it.

Seonghwa smiles just faintly around his cock, and Hongjoong peeks his eyes open to meet Seonghwa’s own at the sudden sensation, only for the sight to make his jaw drop.

“What are you smiling for?” He blurts out, tortured, baffled by his hyungs expression.

God, he’s so pretty, is all Seonghwa can think. He pops Hongjoong out of his mouth as he’s still smiling just to speak.

“You’re gorgeous right now,” he slurs thickly, ignoring the boy's whimper of protest, the way his hips jerk to follow him. Was he close? Oops. Seonghwa’s mouth is cottony with pre-cum and raspberry, laving his tongue over his teeth at the thought. He lazily pumps his fist to make up for his break.

Hongjoong strains at the shift of sensations, muscles tensing lightly, but he resists squirming. His lips are thinned in faux annoyance, but Seonghwa is learning how to tell it apart from the real thing.

“Why’d you…” Hongjoong struggles, unable to break his eyes away from the sight of Seonghwa over him. When Seonghwa doesn’t helpfully supply anything, only blinking innocently, Hongjoong grunts. “You’re good at it. Have you, um… ever done this before?”

It’s flattering. Surprising, mostly. Seonghwa pauses, then nods. “Only once. Someone I went to highschool with.”

“Mm. It’s, um… good.” Hongjoong exhales.

Seonghwa bites his lip to hide his smile. The silence hangs for a moment, slowing his strokes to massage Hongjoong properly up his shaft, milking a thick bead out of the top. “Have you?”

Hongjoong struggles to compose his breathing, letting his eyes flutter shut when he speaks. His voice comes out so soft it should be criminal. “No…”

Something lingers there, unspoken in the boy’s short answer, but Seonghwa can’t pry. He had known he was gay from a very young age, back to even middle school and probably then some. For Hongjoong, he has a feeling sleeping with a guy has been a taboo up until perhaps this very moment.

Trying to bury the thoughts, Seonghwa brings his mouth back to Hongjoong to give the tip a suck, drawing out precum that splatters over his tongue. Hongjoong exhales a small moan.

“Can I get you off like this? Or can I do more?” Seonghwa asks, hovering his lips without fully pulling his mouth away, tickling with his breath. Hongjoong’s lashes flutter where he looks down at him.

For a second, Seonghwa almost thinks the answer will be no. That he wants to stop, and this is weird, and they should just forget about all of it. But instead, Hongjoong perks up suddenly, glancing between his legs.

“You can — I’ve thought about it, um, I want you to…” He grabs his thigh and holds himself open, and Seonghwa’s eyes flicker down to the puckered hole being presented to him, eyebrows shooting to his hairline. “I wanted you to… um, my fingers are short, and so…”

He exhales impatiently. Seonghwa feels his ears burn red with heat.

“You… want me to try?” He asks gently, voice sounding small. Hongjoong bites his lip and nods.

How much had he thought about this, Seonghwa deliriously wonders? The thought darts in quick and excitedly, flushing him hot. Had he looked at Seonghwa’s hands and realized they’d be the perfect tools, after a night of his own failing him, yearning for something longer? He wonders what it’d be like to go all the way with Hongjoong, inside of him even deeper, but he can’t focus on the thought right now with Hongjoong laying there, begging for him. Without wanting to deprave him any further, Seonghwa forces himself to refocus, despite feeling frankly shocked stupid with the revelation.

Seonghwa would be lying if he said he hadn’t done this to himself before once or twice. It was nice sometimes as an aid when he was masturbating, but not always worth the cleanup. Probably much like Hongjoong, he hadn’t done much more than his own fingers, but he liked to think he was decently experienced to the process of it. What feels good, what doesn’t. After all, he knew himself what it felt like. So, he was smart to lean down and spit onto Hongjoong's hole and his fingers first before touching him.

It made Hongjoong jolt, surprised at the temperature, but he settled again a moment later with his eyes screwed shut. Seonghwa slowly circled the rim with his finger, giving him time to adjust to it, mind wandering absently. His eyes found themselves on the popsicle draped limply across Hongjoong’s chest in his hand, nearly halved in a puddle of blue.

They were both definitely virgins, right? Which meant Hongjoong was inexperienced, and tight, and Seonghwa was figuring out how to do this right. Yet, slowly with each caress of his fingers, he could feel Hongjoong’s body relaxing.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed the first finger in. His other hand, which had been limp at the base of Hongjoong’s cock, stroked again to accompany the sensation with something pleasant, before he spoke.

“I want to give you something bigger.”

A small gasp falls out of the captain’s lips at the intrusion, but he takes it well. He was tight, clenching down around the digit despite the relatively small size, but it didn’t seem to be from pain. Still, Seonghwa measures for a reaction, slowly grinding himself to the knuckle.

“B-Bigger?” Hongjoong stutters out, eyelids struggling to cooperate when he blearily looks down at Seonghwa. He looks both surprised and enticed all at once by the concept, but then again, his captain has never backed down from a challenge.

Still, Seonghwa knows what he’s about to say is filthy. He can’t help languidly licking his lips when he locks eyes with Hongjoong and speaks slowly. “You begged for me to roughhouse you, captain. Then you were demanding this and that, making me clean you… I think you can take it.”

Hongjoong shudders real-time to Seonghwa’s words. He starts nodding eagerly, and for a second it looks like he’s about to beg, practically salivating while Seonghwa opens him wide on his two fingers.

So greedy.

Then, Seonghwa’s other hand reaches up and delicately plucks the melting popsicle from Hongjoong’s chest with a smile, lifting it into the air. Abruptly, Hongjoong stops. All words on the tip of his tongue seem to run dry.

“Seonghwa, wait.”

Without listening, Seonghwa slips his fingers out and brings the popsicle down to rub it in a smooth circle around Hongjoong’s rim. The boy yelps, legs twitching reflexively back, tensing up.

“Seonghwa, seriously, don’t. It’ll be cold, and— and sticky—”

“Really? Hm. I guess you can tell me how it feels.” And with that, Seonghwa hums and pushes the popsicle in.

It goes with a little pop, smaller than a cock, only slightly bigger than Seonghwa’s two fingers. It’s so minimal of a difference, even Seonghwa thinks he’s curiously shoved bigger things in himself than this, and yet Hongjoong’s reaction is spectacular. He comes alive, recoiling away from the protrusion with a kitten-like mewl, as both hands fly down to shove at Seonghwa desperately. It isn’t truly objecting, with his fingers only locking around Seonghwa’s wrists and fingers tightly, so it’s more like a soft plea instead. He pauses, holding the popsicle delicately by the handle, stroking the back of Hongjoong’s supple thigh with his thumb.

“It fit fine,” he says soothingly, canting his voice into something so devastatingly sweet it could be bottled as a syrup. Even for Seonghwa, this is more bold and forward than he’d ever thought himself capable of being. Deep down, he admits there’s a faint, faint sense of dread ready to burst at the slightest hint that this might’ve been too much, and he’s finally taken it a step too far to send everything blowing up in his face. He watches Hongjoong carefully, despite his confidence, monitoring for it.

But, it never comes. Hongjoong is trembling now, either from the actual sensation— admittedly unlikely— or the adrenaline shock of doing something so obscene— which is much more likely. Either way, the sight is incredibly endearing as the captain finds his words, seemingly too appalled by whats inside him to even open his eyes.

“Is— is it in me?” He manages out. His voice is barely even a whisper. Seonghwa still isn’t sure if it’s good or bad, so he doesn’t move.

“It is,” he says calmly, petting the back of Hongjoong’s thigh another time. This time, he can’t keep the slight quiver of uncertainty from his voice when he asks, “Is it okay?”

Hongjoong swallows thickly. Seonghwa can see his throat bobbing as he does it, silent for several seconds. Then, slowly, he nods.

“It’s cold,” he says eventually. Neither good nor bad. Something in-between. Seonghwa slowly nods.

“How’s… this?” Then he slowly pushes the popsicle deeper, fucking the captain further on it, watching the sugary-blue syrup allow it to glide easily into his hole.

Hongjoong whimpers. The melting leaves a candy-blue ring around his hole. “I-I’m going to come.” He says suddenly. He sounds afraid.

Seonghwa swallows, then reaches up to jerk Hongjoong off slowly at first, and then faster. “You can,” he says quickly. It’s not so much to give Hongjoong permission, but because Seonghwa truly wants to see it, in order to marvel that it would even be possible to begin with. That Seonghwa got him off by giving him a blowjob and fucking his filthy hole with a popscicle. He pushes it faster, deeper, until it swallows around the end of the stick to touch Seonghwa’s fingers and then pops out again. Hongjoong cries out.

“Oh, god—”

Like that, he comes around Seonghwa’s hand suddenly, catching him off guard even despite the warning. White, thick spurts hit his exposed stomach and coat Seonghwa’s curled fingers, for several long seconds until finally his hips stop twitching and his cock stops rutting upward desperately into Seonghwa’s grasp. Hongjoong’s lips are parted open, gasping all the way to the veranda ceiling as he catches his breath. As Seonghwa stares up at him and studies his expression, engraving every iota of picturesque detail into his memory, he realizes the wet tracks twinkling in the sunlight down the sides of Hongjoong’s cheeks.

He’s crying, or cried, and Seonghwa has to hope it was a good thing. At the same time, he glances down again to the popsicle which is currently still buried inside him, and grimaces slightly.

“I’m going to take it out,” he says quickly, softly, before pulling gently until it gives. Hongjoong makes a small noise of protest from the back of his throat, between a whine and a moan, but Seonghwa has no choice but to ignore it until the popsicle slips free from his hole— and with it, a trail of raspberry-blue ooze. Begrudgingly, Seonghwa’s rather neglected cock takes annoying interest in the sight.

He sighs through his nostrils and flicks the near fully-melted popsicle aside, climbing Hongjoong’s body to take a look at the captain properly.

“I don’t know why I did that,” he blurts out quickly, regret already creeping into his voice. What he isn’t expecting is the swiftness in which Hongjoong gets his knee up to plant squarely into Seonghwa’s abdomen.

He grunts, involuntarily of course, a fawning expression pathetically plastered across his face. Hongjoong forces his eyes open to reveal the angry glower burning within, glaring at Seonghwa sharply.

“I-I’m sorry, Hongjoong. I’m really sorry.” He blurts it all out quickly. He feels like his heart might skydive out of his throat.

“I wanted you to fuck me,” Hongjoong says finally, his voice tight with genuine betrayal. Then he knees Seonghwa again in the stomach, only slightly softer, and Seonghwa caves around the limb further. He hugs the knee, gasping.

“I— I will next time. If there’s a next time. I will. I swear.”

He’s prepared to beg for his life, until he’s surprised by the sudden sensation of a foot against his crotch, giving one good, slightly-too-hard rub, and an involuntary groan rips itself from the back of his throat before he can stop himself.

Fuck, he forgot how neglected he was. It feels too good after this long, all his senses cranked into overdrive. It scrambles all the words forming in his head, mixing up all his pretty and poetic sentences, until Hongjoong hits him even harder with his next words.

“You can,” he says it simply and matter-of-factly. But Seonghwa thinks he doesn’t hallucinate the hint of uncertainty just barely quivering around the edges of his words, enough to make his eyes fling open to look at Hongjoong desperately, just to search his expression and make sure he isn’t imagining it, too.

What he sees is Hongjoong’s hardened stare, eyes wide and burning into Seonghwa’s own when they lock, and he immediately knows its real. The fire burning in them like a raging, molotov cocktail. Then, of course, Hongjoong crushing his dick again with his heel. Seonghwa whimpers.

“P-Please. Really? Ah—” His hands wrap around Hongjoong’s ankle, and he can’t help it when his hips rut on their own, grinding his clothed cock against the heel of Hongjoong’s foot even through the fabric. Can he really fuck Hongjoong next time? There’ll be a next time?

“I’ve never done it before. I’ll learn, though, for you. I’ll fuck you well, Hongjoong. I can’t wait.” He blurts anything out, fast and breathless. He’s thinking about Hongjoong behind his eyelids. What it’s like to be inside him, the feeling of his tight hole. Body fluttering and gasping around him as he breaks him apart on his cock. Something nobody else would see, except Seonghwa.

What did he say earlier..?

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Seonghwa’s eyes fly open.

He’s greeted by the sight of Hongjoong looking startled under him, realizing suddenly that he’d been laying there in a state of quiet shock while Seonghwa used his foot like a toy to hump against. It’s a mixture of being appalled and extremely flattered all at once, speechless words hovering on his agape lips. But the question only baffles him further, blinking more times than Seonghwa thinks he’s ever counted, even in the worst cases of other members’ misbehavior.

“I only am in this way,” he finally scoffs matter-of-factly, and Seonghwa’s lip curls into an irrepressable smirk. He can’t hide the way he stares, a thousand vile thoughts rushing to mind.

“I’ll get to take it this way, then. That’s all that matters.” He tries not to sound like a freak when he says it. But he feels like one even as the words come out, and he regrets them immediately after, feeling his face burn all the way to his neck and shouders. He presses his lips together into a thin, tight line, feeling like a pervert.

Hongjoong, laying under him with come on him, fucked by Seonghwa’s stupid decisions, does a good job of hiding his reaction if he has any. His eyes only wander down to look at himself, as if reassessing for a second time what they’ve done— or what’s been done to him— and then landing, finally, on the slightly more subdued way Seonghwa is softly twitching against his foot. He’s too ashamed now to move, just pangs and throbs of pulsing blood making his crotch ache with each passing second. For a second, as Hongjoong silently stares, he thinks he’s about to be told to get off.

Then Hongjoong sits up, slowly.

“Hey, what does it look like? I want to see it.” Hongjoong suddenly gets close enough to Seonghwa’s face he can feel the breath against his own lips, and his eyes are staggeringly beautiful from this distance, his nose perfectly sloped. Blood pounds through his head and down his body again, resonating in the most feverish places. Seonghwa could get off from a picture of his face alone.

Melting somewhat, and feeling like he’s going to topple sideways on the burning, sunny pavement, Seonghwa quickly says, “Small. Not that impressive. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes and grabs for Seonghwa’s fly.

In a few quick gestures, Hongjoong pops the button undone and quickly shoves Seonghwa’s waistband aside with little protest. Seonghwa all but sits there pathetically as he lets Hongjoong manhandle his cock out of his pants and expose it proudly in the light, holding it up to full mast in a bright patch of sun. Seonghwa is sitting back on his calves, and he tucks both hands to the sides of his thighs, ignited by the simplest feeling of Hongjoong’s slender fingers wrapped around his cock.

The first thing out of the captains mouth, as he gapes jaw-dropped at Seonghwa’s length, is to say, “You fucking bastard liar.”

Seonghwa blushes to his ears. “I don’t know if I’m enough—”

“You have a nice cock,” Hongjoong says rather bluntly. Then he swirls his tongue around his mouth, his eyes lulling ever-so-slightly that Seonghwa could’ve blinked and missed it, but he catches that betraying moment of transparent thought. He could practically read Hongjoong’s mind from the look alone, and Seonghwa can’t help the way he immediately twitches again right there in Hongjoong’s palm as it registers, the idea that Hongjoong is fantasizing about him in real-time while oogling at his dick.

Hongjoong swallows. The twitch is a clear invitation. Everything is an invitation. Seonghwa is sitting there, with his palms pressed back against his sides like a dog, to let Hongjoong do whatever he desires. He’s flushed with incredible relief the moment Hongjoong finally decides to shift his legs into a position more comfortable and get closer, finally stroking Seonghwa with more purpose.

Seonghwa’s thighs clench. Quads tight and taut with all the tension of an overdue orgasm. He feels like he’s been edged for an hour, so even this clumsy rhythm and too-hard pressure from Hongjoong is enough to make him grit his teeth and screw his eyes shut. But it’s not even the prolonging, or the edging, or hell, the sloppiness that does it.

It’s the fact that it’s Hongjoong, so close they’re enveloped in each other, so much that Seonghwa can smell the sex and come and sweaty musk off his body and make out each individual eyelash on his face, that he thinks he’s going to burst. He sways forward a little, delirious enough to blame it on the heat or the exhaustion, and they’re close enough that his forehead goes bumping into Hongjoong’s own like he intended. He wants to nuzzle the captain, or maybe kiss him, while seeming as least pathetic as possible.

Hongjoong makes a small noise of surprise, tearing his eyes away from where they’d locked onto Seonghwa’s girth. Like he was deeply interested, either in watching and receiving some kind of gratification from studying Seonghwa’s erection, or because he was so new to this he was worried about his technique. Either way, he flinches slightly at the sudden proximity, Seonghwa’s visage of devastatingly beautiful, sloping edges and thick lips. On his next breath, exhaled like a sigh from his lips, Seonghwa can feel it hit his cheeks and even feel the temperature of it, smell the mouth-y chocolate on his breath. He doesn’t even care that it’s weird and insignificant, maybe even gross. God, he relishes it. He wants to kiss Hongjoong until there’s no distance left.

It feels unspoken when he does. A moment of interlocked eye contact, and then Seonghwa is leaning forward softly to guide his lips into Hongjoong’s own and pry them open with his tongue. It’s softer than the other times, hesitant and needy at first, until Seonghwa gets lulled into the rhythm of Hongjoong’s pumping fist too fast and hunger easily overtakes him. His lips glide over Hongjoong’s own, swallowing him, committing the sensation of them to memory. His other hand finds the captain’s cheek, knowing this will be the face he’s going to see a thousand times more from here on, permanently changed by virtue of remembering intimately how this feels to drag his finger along this jawline as he kisses him.

Hongjoong’s hand finds a fancy for gliding up and down the full length of his cock before twisting dexterously each time he reaches the tip, and Seonghwa kisses him hard and fast regardless of the demand for air each time he does, letting it bring him dangerously closer to the edge. He bites Hongjoong’s lip without warning, pulling it back and then diving in again, so all Hongjoong can do is gasp against his lips before the sound is swallowed into another kiss. Seonghwa gasps, too. He moans, low and throaty and sometimes high in his angelic falsetto when Hongjoong particularly squeezes him just right, and Seonghwa feels deranged by the feeling of those tiny fingers mapping out each contour so determinedly.

Is he memorizing it for next time, too, Seonghwa wonders? He bucks his hips up into the hand just to encourage it, to get Hongjoong to squeeze him a little harder, making himself moan embarrassingly at the sensation.

Hongjoong seems surprised by it. Then he takes his other hand and presses it down against Seonghwa’s thigh, which makes the man force his eyes blearily open, gasping with an open mouth.

He doesn’t say it, maybe because he’s afraid to be demanding in this moment, but his eyes look at Hongjoong imploringly. His hips twitch when he’s stroked again, unable to help himself, wordlessly asking if the captain will show him mercy. Hongjoong looks back at him, makes a simple tutting sound under his breath, and says, “Sit and behave.”

Seonghwa feels his mouth go dry. He swallows two, maybe three times. Now he can’t tear his eyes off of Hongjoong, who’s own gaze seems to rotate calmly and intermittently between Seonghwa’s red and throbbing cock, and his face. Each time those eyes land on him, he thinks he sees Hongjoong smirk just a little wider. As if he’s discovering in real-time how much he delights in Seonghwa’s obedience, and just how far he can take it.

But Seonghwa can’t take it. This eternal edging, so close he could explode. He isn’t even sure if it’s on purpose that Hongjoong is deliberately doing just enough to keep him hard, or if it’s a cruel accident from his inexperience. Admittedly, Seonghwa finds both ideas upsettingly arousing. And he’d let Hongjoong continue forever, to be milked slowly until the sun sets all the way on the horizon, if it wasn’t beginning to nearly hurt from the tension.

Even then, someday, maybe he’d be obliging.

“H-Hongjoong,” he manages awkwardly first, failing again when his hips jerk irrepressably, and he controls himself again. “If you… Maybe do something else, like touch this one spot, or with your mouth, I-I’ll come.” He feels so pathetic to even be asking. It feels like a stretch to even presume Hongjoong would put his mouth anywhere near Seonghwa’s cock willingly. But, then again, would he?

The look Hongjoong gives him betrays several things. He stares at Seonghwa owlishly as his lip curls, which tells Seonghwa he genuinely wasn’t paying attention and didn’t know what else to do besides this, no matter how well he hid it. But even now he’s good at masking his emotion, regaining his composure quickly. His gaze sharpens again while he pauses and simply pets Seonghwa’s cock with his thumb, as if nonchalantly.

“What… What spot are you talking about?” And he tips his chin indignantly into the air as he asks, prideful even now. Seonghwa humbly brings his hand to Hongjoong’s own, barely suppressing the smallest of smiles.

“Like this,” he says gently and guides Hongjoong’s hand to the head of his cock, pressing his thumb into the right spot just beneath the tip. “I like it here,” Seonghwa concludes shyly. Hongjoong looks at it intently, something like excitement or intrigue subtly flashing across his features.

His eyes snap back to Seonghwa’s own, a joy so small and subtle in every micro-detail of his face, before giving him a small stroke.

Seonghwa says, “With a little pressure,” and Hongjoong obliges, which makes Seonghwa shakily exhale.

Suddenly, Hongjoong scoots even closer, spreading his legs to flank either side of Seonghwa and nearly climb on his lap with the proximity. He returns to his natural pace like before, but this time he jerks that particular spot with purpose, and Seonghwa’s head slumps forward with an obscene moan.

“I want to see you come,” Hongjoong says lowly into the few inches of space between them. His fist moves mercilessly, so Seonghwa can’t help it anymore when he has to reach forward and squeeze tightly onto Hongjoong’s leg for grounding, letting the rest of his embarrassing noises pour out of him without any more inhibitions.

“Y-You can,” he manages staggeringly. “I’m gonna. Ugh—”

His head collides back against Hongjoong’s own, and the captain allows it, slipping sideways to kiss blindly at his cheek. It feels so stupid, but that alone almost seems to do it. Seonghwa’s heart jumps in his chest, muscles tightening hard in a final snap of a second, like a rubber band pulled taut.

“Hhhongjooong—” He slurs pathetically as he comes into the captain’s hand. His skin goes numb and white-hot. Something splatters and hits his toned legs.

Hongjoong sits back and watches as he jerks Seonghwa through it, studying every minute detail exactly as he’d promised. Seonghwa is so euphoric for a prolonged moment that he doesn’t even notice the way Hongjoong is observing him like a rare and endangered animal until he pulls back and they finally lock eyes. The captain is more flushed than Seonghwa would expect, glowing and enchanted by what he’s just witnessed.

The ebbs of the orgasm fizzle their way out of him. A hot, sweaty patina against his skin, and it’s just hard to think when the summer sun gets so hot.

Is that what all of this was, he suddenly thinks? A sudden fear douses him like a cold bucket of water.

“If… If you just weren’t thinking straight, from the heat or whatever, we can just forget about this,” he blurts out hurriedly. Hongjoong is still cradling his slowly softening cock in his hand.

Reasonably so, Hongjoong’s eyebrows raise to his hairline at the random offer. “What? Do you want to forget about this? I mean…” He blinks repeatedly, all his words knotting up on his tongue. “If you want to. I don’t know. For me, I’m…”

Seonghwa squints lightly and tilts his head, hinging desperately on those next words, and the sudden intensity makes Hongjoong get shy suddenly.

“What are you even talking about? We never even went all the way.” He averts his gaze down to Seonghwa’s poor dick as if remembering the state it’s left in, and rubs it with the back of his hand as if to sloppily clean it, to no avail. It’s stupid enough that Seonghwa huffs and quickly tucks himself back into his pants, even despite the germs and mess he’s smearing into his shorts in the process.

“Do you… um, do you still want to?” He looks at Hongjoong intently then, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth so hard he could bleed. The captain looks back at him paralyzed for a second, like a deer caught in headlights, before he finally, shyly nods.

“I want to. Yeah.” Hongjoong nods again, firmer this time. The relief melts across Seonghwa’s features like a sweeping wave. “You owe it to me,” he adds after another second, some petulance bleeding back into his voice. Despite all odds, Seonghwa finds it in himself to smirk.

“Okay. Next time, then.” He hesitates. Then he lowers his voice slightly, smiling. “Next time, you can ask just like that. Instead of beating around the bush with this ‘wrestling’ thing.” To his delight, he watches Hongjoong’s features light up in mortification.

He pales with two eyes as round as coins before nodding sheepishly. So he’s been caught, and Seonghwa was perfectly right once again, when it comes to analyzing the captains impossibly vague desires. It only serves to make him smile wider at his victory. Maybe enough to even gloat.

“Good boy,” he dares to say all-too smugly. Hongjoong’s sharply averted gaze and uneven exhale makes it all worth it to tell him he’s right, and he mentally files it away into a folder marked as ‘highly exploitable’ for future endeavors. Apparently, they’ll be having more of them. Which, although he tries not to show it, admittedly makes Seonghwa more inexplicably happy than he can rightfully describe.

“Can you actually help me clean up now, please?” Hongjoong finally says, exasperatedly. Oh, right. Seonghwa looks down at the complete mess they’ve made of the veranda. Both ice creams have melted into puddles of nothingness on the wood, and Hongjoong’s shorts are still dragged halfway off his body like he’s been mauled by a lion, because if he pulls them up he’ll make a mess of the cotton-candy-blue still drying stickily to his hole. It’s a deliriously sexy sight, if Seonghwa had any more gas in the tank to even remotely be as interested in it as he wants to, but he needs to switch back into gear as his usually helpful, servicing self for the time being.

It’s not hard, anyway. With a click of his tongue, he holds out his arms and prepares to grab Hongjoong by the legs to be lifted bridal-style. “I’ll carry you to the bathroom,” he says before Hongjoong can even protest, which quells whatever remark the man has on his lips instantly.

He seals his lips shut and Seonghwa takes that as his cue to lift them both to their feet, making sure Hongjoong is secured tightly in his grasp when he turns to the veranda sliding door and hassles it open with his foot.

“Just take me there and I’ll deal with it myself,” Hongjoong says quietly but firmly. Seonghwa knows he’s trying to hide the embarrassment with his pride. Even despite the initial pang of reluctance Seonghwa feels, he doesn’t want to protest, and it’s also too awkward to imagine the imagery of anyway, so he agrees silently with a thin-lipped nod. Even so, it can’t quell the faint twinge of guilt that swirls in his chest, knowing a great deal of cleanup is going to involve the damage control of the inappropriate and unorthodox things most people should not shove up their assholes.

“Maybe I can wait outside the door,” he reasons quietly after a moment, when he finally steps into the apartment and is heading for the hall. His stubbornness gets the best of him, he can’t help it. Hongjoong grunts in protest and shakes his head almost immediately, glaring.

“No. I don’t want you to see anything, since I’ll probably have to…” He trails off, a flash of something mortified across his face, before he continues softer, “Just bring me my phone and I’ll figure it out, please? Just let me deal with it alone.”

Seonghwa shoots him a look that reeks of disbelief and impatience. But he didn’t meet Kim Hongjoong just yesterday. Actually, the stubborn independence even in this is completely unsurprising, and for once Seonghwa doesn’t feel entitled enough to Hongjoong’s space nor closeness to challenge it. He’d already spent several months and at least three comebacks by now trying to do so with other, smaller things— late nights at the studio, proper meals, a few helpful notes on temper when dealing with the members— and even still, there’s barriers Seonghwa feels too awkward or ill-placed to break down.

He can’t make Hongjoong trust him overnight. But even so, he can keep trying.

With a nod, Seonghwa sets Hongjoong down on the wooden floorboards in front of the bathroom. “I’ll get your phone,” he says abidingly as the redhead hurriedly slips away through the doorway. Seonghwa disappears back into the veranda to recover it next to a sweating bottle of condensating water, before returning to the bathroom and gently rapping his knuckles against the door.

It pops open for a hand to dart out, swiping it hurriedly. “Thank you,” Hongjoong calls, and then slams the door shut.

Seonghwa stands there for several moments in silence. He’s expected to go away, and he bets Hongjoong knows he’s still there too, waiting. He looks down at himself and figures he could at least change. So he walks away to their dorm and does that, cleaning as much of himself up with wet wipes as he can.

When he returns back to the hallway to stand outside of the bathroom, he hears small movements within, and he knows Hongjoong thinks he’s gone away by now. But he hasn’t, and he’s quiet as he sinks down to the floor next to the bathroom door and rests his head against the wall, staring at the popcorn ceiling silently.

He’ll wait, and he’ll be there when Hongjoong needs anything, if for any reason he should poke his head out of that bathroom and wish Seonghwa would be there for him, even when he’s too proud to admit it.

He’ll wait forever, until Hongjoong is ready.