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One not-so-secret secret within their dorm is that Changkyun stays up the latest. Conversely, Kihyun wakes up the earliest, but who doesn’t know that, right?
So though the analog clock on the wall shows half past twelve, Changkyun is still very much awake, on his phone and lazily lounging on the sofa they’ve got in his and Hyungwon’s studio.
He, of course, is wearing a hoodie he stole from Hyungwon -- grey and warm and comfortable. Changkyun is aware that Hyungwon probably knows of his theft by now, as evident from the curious glances he’d receive each time Hyungwon is missing a jacket from his laundry pile. However, seeing as he hasn’t confronted him about it, Changkyun chooses to not make it a topic of discussion between them.
Besides, how would he explain? I like your scent so I stole your hoodie. Your scent comforts me and so I need your clothes to survive. Yeah, no.
So, he wears Hyungwon’s hoodies. So what, right? It’s just like borrowing a friend’s shirt when yours gets too drenched in sweat after your school’s PE period. Or, maybe it’s like borrowing your roommate’s shirt when your laundry is still in the wash, or in the dryer.
Yes, that’s what he expected when he first tried this. Yes, it’s simple and temporary.
Yeah, no.
Here’s a secret secret, though: sometimes, just sometimes, when he’s sure that no one’s awake anymore, when he’s absolutely, absolutely sure, that the last of the members have waddled their way back onto their beds and snored, he--
It’s a little hard to admit.
Basically, he gets off on Hyungwon’s scent.
And before anyone says anything, he knows it’s strange. He knows it’s strange to be aroused by an aroma of any sort —let alone someone’s scent, but can he really blame himself when Hyungwon smells this good? The musk, combined with the subtle hint of the cologne he wears — something about it just gets him going.
He thinks it’s a comfort thing: each time he inhales he gets a whiff of that distinct smell -- god, he can’t even describe it -- and that calms his system down, slows down his heart rate, sends him to sleep.
Arouses him.
So here he is, on the couch of their studio, body absolutely swimming in the tent that is Hyungwon’s most oversized hoodie. His nose is buried in the crook of his left arm, breathing in the last hints of Hyungwon in the garment, while his right hand is pulling ever so urgently on his own shaft, his fingers just barely visible over the cuff of the hoodie.
He makes these involuntary little whimpers when he does this — which, if he was being honest, are quite pathetic and unnecessary, seeing as that might wake someone up and blow his cover — so he covers his mouth as he strokes himself, his eyes beginning to flutter close as he gets closer and closer to that brink; just a couple more tugs—
And then suddenly, a click— not the clock; a click of the doorknob.
Each nerve impulse freezes in its track as Changkyun registers what is actually happening. His hand is still on his length, his bloodstream is still flooded with all the feel-good hormones, he has no time to react to the door opening, the door opening, the fucking door opening --
The door to the studio is opening. Changkyun’s heart is now lodged in his throat, his blood has stopped flowing in their little vessels, and all his bodily functions are in the process of shutting the fuck down as his eyes dart to the figure entering his studio at one a.m.
Of course it had to be Hyungwon. Of course it had to be the owner of his hoodie.
They have a little staring competition; Changkyun’s hand is still frozen on his embarrassingly hard length. He wants to move, talk, breathe, do anything , but he finds that his nervous system is still frozen over the shock, still non-functional over his very urgently close climax.
“Uh, w-well that’s,” Hyungwon starts, and Changkyun releases a breath of relief for no reason, “that’s not the piece of clothing I’d, uh, jack off to.”
That response should have worried him, but his last brain cell is busy trying to formulate a coherent response, a plausible explanation.
“Uh, uh, I can— I can explain,” Changkyun blurts out, scrambling to explain but realizing that he has absolutely zero explanation whatsoever to what he is doing, aside, of course, from the very obvious explanation -- but he thinks admitting to get off on someone else’s scent is not very logical in this situation.
Changkyun says nothing, and Hyungwon continues to stare at him in the eye. The tension is so palpable that Changkyun swears he could cut it with a butter knife. Just when his soul is about to leave him in embarrassment, Hyungwon’s gaze darts downwards, where Changkyun has hidden his embarrassingly sloppy self-handjob in between his naked thighs and under Hyungwon’s too long hoodie. A spark travels up his spine. He averts his gaze.
“Can I see?” Hyungwon asks, and Changkyun thinks he might be hallucinating.
— 0 —
He hears these little whimpers as he exits his room to use the bathroom, and upon finding that they are coming from his and Changkyun’s studio, he gets even more curious. However, as he opens the door and uncovers the person within, his curiosity is piqued even more.
Hyungwon enters the room to a very flushed Changkyun, whose hands are doing such a signature repetitive motion that Hyungwon doesn’t need to look to find out what he’s actually doing. This is where his brain goes, well, shit.
And then he realizes another thing: Changkyun is wearing his hoodie. Changkyun, the adorable boy, is wearing his hoodie and is sniffing the crook of his elbow in order to get off. At least, that was what he was doing, before Hyungwon came in and ruined his wank session with his presence.
Huh, so this is where his hoodie’s been off to. For some reason, Hyungwon finds that he doesn’t mind.
Hyungwon searches for anything to say, anything at all, and while the cogs of his brain scramble to search for words to say, he all but stares at Changkyun’s eyes, not daring to move his gaze any lower, to where Changkyun’s length is peeking out just so--
Nope. Nope. Nope. Think of something to say.
What are you doing? It’s obvious he’s jacking off, you dumbass.
Why are you wearing my hoodie? Maybe he likes you, and you certainly like him, too.
Do I smell good? Ew, what a creepy question.
So, he settles on, “well, that’s not the piece of clothing I’d jack off to.”
Which, if he looks back, sounds incredibly moronic, but he was stuck in the moment, alright? Would anyone else be able to formulate a logical sentence after seeing your incredibly cute bandmate in the middle of their most vulnerable moments? No, Hyungwon doesn’t think so.
Wait a second. He’s just admitted that, A. He jacks off, and B. He jacks off to clothing.
However, before he could elaborate on his mistakes a little further, Changkyun very defensively says, “I can explain!”
Changkyun, it seems, has lost his explanation in a matter of seconds because he goes extremely quiet -- and extremely red -- after the very verbal and defensive declaration.
Hyungwon has been offered chances before, and he knows what it feels like to be offered a chance. Perhaps this is one of those moments, where what he does next plays a crucial role in determining the outcome of the situation.
So, their friendship could either become very strained and awkward, or their friendship could develop into something a little more intimate. Hmm.
Hyungwon takes the second option; he’s been enamored with this cute bandmate of his for a while now anyway.
His gaze slowly travels downwards, assessing the form in front of him. Changkyun seems to be wearing one of his longer pullovers, and the fit is terribly oversized on him. He wears no bottoms, his thighs milky white and closed tightly together, the bottom half of his hoodie covers what seems to be his naked length. His hands are covered with the cuffs of Hyungwon’s hoodie, and they settle on top of his crotch in a crossed manner.
Changkyun is blushing furiously as he stares at his hands, head tilted downwards, brunet fringe falling over his eyes.
His heart skips a couple of beats, as he asks, “can I see?”
Changkyun darts his head upwards, as if shocked by an electric current.
“W-what?”
“Can you show me?” He says, nearing the couch that Changkyun is sitting on.
He settles down next to the tense boy, reaching over to put an arm across Changkyun’s shoulder, and he patiently waits for an answer.
And then his thighs ever so slowly separate, his jittery left hand begins to lift the lower hem of his pullover, revealing his length — flushed, slick, and absolutely wet with precum. His other hand is crossed over his face, covering a large portion of it. Hyungwon can still see his ears, though, and they are extremely pink at the tips.
“Is this for me?” he teases, running his fingers up Changkyun’s left thigh, feeling goosebumps rise as he trails his hand closer, closer, closer to where he knows it is needed most, “so, so pretty, baby.”
Changkyun emits a soft gasp, interlaced with a high-pitched whimper. Though both of these noises are muffled by the fabric of his hoodie — the offensive fabric of his hoodie.
“Can I see you, Changkyunnie?” Hyungwon asks, his fingers toying with the ribbed hem of the hoodie, “I’ll lift this up, okay?”
Changkyun nods small, before changing his mind and shaking his head vigorously, “w-wait, hyung—“
And here Hyungwon thinks he’s made a fatal mistake.
— 0 —
“I’ll lift this up, okay?” His hyung asks, and after the question passes through the filter that is his hormone-overwhelmed brain, he nods shyly, because yes he wants Hyungwon to see, yes he wants those lithe fingers on his body, yes he wants more praises from his hyung.
But then, he shakes his head. Vigorously.
“Wait, hyung,” he starts, and then he realizes that he can’t really explain why he wouldn’t want Hyungwon’s smell to go away without admitting that he likes his smell.
“Yes, baby?” Hyungwon prompts, patting the bottom of his jacket near his thigh, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to take it off, love.”
“Uh, wait, I— you can take it off,” Changkyun rambles, while squirming in place, “I just— it’s just, er—“
The more he stumbles on his words, the more embarrassed he gets, and then eventually he just buries his head into the space between Hyungwon’s chin and shoulder, pressing his forehead into his neck. It feels safe here; it feels comfortable and safe.
“Tell me what it is,” Hyungwon whispers, gently running his hand through Changkyun’s brunet strands.
“I-if you take it off,” he mumbles, giving up on finding an alternative explanation, “t-then your smell will be gone…”
Hyungwon doesn’t reply immediately, and this is it, this is where he leaves him, where he gets weirded off because this bandmate of his gets aroused by his fucking odor, where he tells the others about this disgusting habit of his-- oh, he can already imagine the jeers and the taunting--
“I’m right here, though, love,” Hyungwon says, pulling Changkyun out of his self-deprecation, slowly ruffling Changkyun’s hair in little circular motions. He brings Changkyun’s head up by running his fingers along his jaw — they are now so close, close enough for Changkyun to see Hyungwon’s individual eyelashes, close enough that he feels the puffs of Hyungwon’s exhales against his cheeks.
Hyungwon’s eyes flick down to his lips for a split second -- so brief that he almost misses it -- as if asking a silent question, and Changkyun answers by closing the miniscule gap in between them.
Oh, to be kissed by your scent-crush.
Hyungwon’s lips are pillowy soft against his chapped ones, and he sighs into the kiss because it’s all he’s ever imagined; all he’s ever wanted. He is aware of the hand trailing down his side, lifting the oversized hoodie up and away from his person, and finally he is bare in front of Hyungwon — the cold air of the studio hits his skin and he shivers.
Hyungwon detaches himself from Changkyun, and just when he is about to whine, Hyungwon says, “get on my lap, come on, love.”
He scrambles to get on, his erection aching at this point from all the foreplay, and as he settles his weight down on Hyungwon’s lap he finds that the other man is also in a similar situation.
“Hyung,” he says, batting his eyelashes, palming the other’s length through his sweatpants, “can we, together?”
— 0 —
“Can we,” his love says, while eyeing him from under his eyelashes, “together?”
And then Changkyun has the audacity, the nerve to be acting that cute while touching him, and oh god Hyungwon thinks he might ascend .
“Yes, of course,” he says, temporarily removing Changkyun from his lap, and what follows might be the fastest recorded time for the act of removing one’s pants, because his pants are suddenly on the floor, along with his boxers.
But of course he leaves the jacket he’s wearing on, for his Changkyun to smell.
“Come here, love,” he says again, patting his lap, and Changkyun gets up from his previous kneeled pose on the couch in order to settle himself on top of Hyungwon’s thighs.
Hyungwon cradles the back of Changkyun’s head, moving his fingers in order to scratch the brunet tufts of hair found there, and Changkyun leans towards the touch like a pleased feline. Hyungwon brings his head closer, closer, onto his shoulder, and Changkyun inhales his scent like an aphrodisiac; breathes him in like he’s the only oxygen molecule left on Earth’s atmosphere.
It is surprisingly endearing — which does absolutely nothing to diminish his libido.
Changkyun emits a whine from beside him — high pitched and needy — and his hips squirm, presumably in order to get any sort of friction to be applied onto his hardness. However, the disadvantage to this — or perhaps the advantage — is that said friction comes from his own length, and as his baby moves in small circular motions, he gets his own electric shocks that travel up his spine.
“God,” he says breathlessly, “you have no idea how good you look, sweetheart.”
He reaches in between their bodies, makes a fist with his hand around both of them, and starts moving his hand rhythmically. And oh, it feels absolutely heavenly; his skin feels alight with little fireworks that go off much too quickly. Changkyun moans into his shoulder, muffled and desperate, and he thinks he hears a little, “ ah— you smell so good— mmf— “
He’s not sure he can last when it feels this good. Each stroke brings a new wave of dopamine into his blood, brings a new flood of pleasure that burns him over and over, draws a couple breathy moans out of him, and into the crook of Changkyun’s neck.
His fist around them makes obscene squelches as he moves it faster and faster; accompanying this is the sound of Changkyun’s increasingly ragged breaths against his shoulder and neck, and he brings them both closer and closer to the peak, the edge.
“W-wonnie-hyung,” Changkyun says, barely a whisper against the lobe of his ear, “I’m close.”
And god, that is the cutest thing anyone has ever called him — Hyungwon is officially convinced he’s lost his mind.
— 0 —
The feel of Hyungwon’s palm around his shaft is much too good — he’s so close to the brink; the cord is pulled thinner, thinner, as thin as a single strand of hair, and it’s about to snap into a million different pieces.
“W-wonnie-hyung,” he whines, hands clenching the sides of Hyungwon’s jacket, “I’m close.”
“Me too, love,” he says, voice incredibly strained, left hand faltering before switching to his right. Changkyun swats his hand away to replace it with his own.
“Here,” he says, curling his fingers around both of their lengths, “let me.”
And oh, Hyungwon feels like velvet against his palm — it is hot, hard, and incredibly flushed. Changkyun pumps them a couple times, and this brings out a groan from the person under him, long and low, and Changkyun engraves the sound into his memory. As he inhales, Hyungwon’s scent floods his lungs all at once, and Changkyun is so close, so so close, just about anything could snap this cord of his—
Hyungwon lifts his head from its place in his neck, he brings Changkyun’s head closer by gently lifting his jaw with both hands and Hyungwon kisses him, absolutely kisses him with vigour and they both moan into each other’s mouths as Changkyun reaches the peak, the brink, the threshold.
“F— ah , Hyungwon—“
He comes, there and then, his release splattering onto Hyungwon’s pristine jacket. Changkyun whimpers against Hyungwon’s lips, and just as he is about to get down from his high, he finds that the other man’s eyes are very much open, and observing him quite adamantly.
Hyungwon groans into his mouth, low, sultry, seductive, “god, you are so pretty.”
His hyung ruts into his fisted hand once, twice, thrice and then Hyungwon snaps, moaning loudly against Changkyun’s jaw. His come coats Changkyun’s naked torso, warm and messy. Somehow, Changkyun feels accomplished and satisfied -- he grins at Hyungwon's rugged state.
Changkyun draws out the last few strokes, relaxes his tired hand when Hyungwon stops flinching at every stroke on his tip, and they both lie there, in the aftermath of orgasm, in the throes of oversensitivity, absolutely boneless and unmoving.
Changkyun smells Hyungwon with every intake of breath; he is positively delirious with it.
— 0 —
Later, they both lie in the same bed, the room lit only by the rays of the moon that peek through the window on its side. Changkyun burrows his head into Hyungwon’s neck, and Hyungwon plays with Changkyun’s hair in his sleepy haze.
“Hyung,” he calls out.
“Hmm?”
“Will you let me borrow your hoodie for tomorrow?”
Hyungwon giggles, ruffling his head vigorously as Changkyun whines.
“Of course not,” he says sleepily, “you’d have to steal them from me again, love.”
Though Hyungwon is asleep already, Changkyun pouts.
He has a feeling that he will not be the only person staying up the latest from now on.
End.