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“Lie back.”
Immediately, Soonyoung’s brow creases and Wonwoo wants to laugh at the indignation nestled in the pout pushing out towards him. Only Soonyoung would be mildly annoyed at receiving orders while buck naked in an unfamiliar bed. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he says under his breath, the way he usually does when he talks more to himself than to other people. It’s so Soonyoung that the ball of feral horny energy that’s been building inside Wonwoo since he and Soonyoung decided to spend his birthday in a fancy and discreet five star hotel dilutes into something less frantic, more fond.
Leaning forward, Wonwoo presses a kiss to Soonyoung’s forehead, trails a single hand down his chest to tweak playfully at a nipple. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he jokes, gaze warm as Soonyoung’s cheeks pink with frustration.
“Wonwoo!” he whines, and it’s a testament to how much of a fool Wonwoo is for Soonyoung that it arrows down straight into his cock. “I thought it was my birthday not yours.” He pouts, and Wonwoo relents, as he always does, as he always will. There’s very little in the world that he would withhold from the love of his life, especially on his special day.
“Lie back then,” Wonwoo repeats, shooting Soonyoung a smug grin that he knows flatters his handsome face. “Don’t you trust me?”
Soonyoung sighs theatrically, and Wonwoo is struck by how much he adores this dramatic, enthralling boy. “You know I do,” he says, simply, honestly; Wonwoo watches him reach out, feels his fingers thread through the short hairs on the back of his neck, rubbing gently. It’s in the little touches like these that remind Wonwoo that they’re friends and colleagues, but also more than that. So much more. The little gestures of affection that they only share in the space between them… they’re there for the both of them to keep, sacred and secret and safe, even from their closest friends and members. Soonyoung tugs and Wonwoo follows, mouth already opening to slot against his, familiar and sweet.
They kiss like this for a while, Wonwoo swallowing down the gentle sounds Soonyoung makes as they do, their skin sliding against each other, dotted by goosebumps from the centralized air-conditioning of the honeymoon suite. Or maybe it’s just anticipation — it’s been awhile since they’ve been able to get away from everyone like this. Even though Wonwoo has practically migrated into Soonyoung’s room, they’ve been so busy with comeback preparations that they only get enough time together to brush their teeth and argue halfheartedly about Wonwoo’s feet being too cold against Soonyoung’s calves before they fall asleep, Soonyoung’s warmth a comfort against Wonwoo’s back.
Today is your day, and I celebrate you. Wonwoo tries his best to communicate this to him, in the way he rubs against Soonyoung’s sides to still the thrumming underneath his skin, in the way he cups Soonyoung’s cheek and rubs the swell of it with his thumb, in the way he licks into Soonyoung’s mouth, languid and unhurried.
Despite other people lauding his skills as a wordsmith, he’s always found it hard to articulate the feeling in his chest whenever he looks at Soonyoung. I want to be the anchor to your wildest dreams, the ground that tethers your sunflower, ever turned towards the sun. I want to be the hand that you hold as you reach towards the horizon, the company you keep as you walk on your flowery path. So many pretty thoughts, and they fall short, always, to capture the feeling of simply being here, with Soonyoung, getting to love him and being loved by him in return.
(Sometimes, he wishes he could turn back time and tell his younger self not to doubt himself and the feelings growing in his heart for his best friend, that all the confusion and fear and loneliness would be worth it.
Nothing else could actually come close.)
“You’re thinking too much,” Soonyoung murmurs against his mouth, and Wonwoo can’t help but chuckle; he presses closer, if that’s even possible, his grip around Soonyoung’s waist tightening. The lights in the room have been dimmed, but Wonwoo doesn’t need them — he can navigate the planes of Soonyoung’s body even with his eyes closed, can reach out and know exactly what he’d touch. He does this now, skimming and dipping fingers along the dips and flows and curves of his arms, his hips, his back. Every touch leaves a trail of heat behind it, and by the time he’s wrapping fingers around the back of Soonyoung’s thighs, Wonwoo can hear Soonyoung’s breath shortening, the temperature of his skin rising.
Wonwoo leans back now, eyes greedily taking in the pretty pink flush across Soonyoung’s chest, the hardened peaks of his nipples, before he swoops back in for another kiss. There’s more teeth this time, Wonwoo feeling the nip of Soonyoung’s canines along the inside of his bottom lip before he starts sucking on his tongue. The groan he lets out is embarrassing, but Soonyoung simply takes it as encouragement before he flips them over and climbs into Wonwoo’s lap to rub their groins together, his fingers wrapping around the width of both their cocks to stroke them to finish.
He should have known Soonyoung wouldn’t let him draw it out for them both, too frantic, too starved for the release they needed. Instead of insisting on his original plan for the evening, Wonwoo relents. After all, it’s still early, and they don’t have to be back at the office until lunchtime tomorrow.
He reaches up with one hand to bring Soonyoung’s mouth to his again, and wraps his other hand around Soonyoung’s smaller one. It makes a desperate whimper crawl out of Soonyoung’s throat, one of Wonwoo’s favorite sounds in the world, his and his alone to keep.
It doesn’t take too long for them to climax together, their release painting their chests sticky.
—-
They order room service and feed each other creamy desserts in the frankly extravagant tub in the corner of their suite’s bathroom.
Among other things.
“Ah, Wonwoo…”
It’s always a thrill to get Soonyoung to unravel in his arms. Very few people are aware of the lines that he draws to protect his innermost person, the one who frets over the smallest mistakes, the one who never forgets the feeling of wanting so much and having so little. Wonwoo has always known this part of him, and it had been a slow awakening on his part to learn to deal with the additional masks Soonyoung had chosen to adorn growing up as he became leader, performer, idol.
Eventually, he learned to study the rationale behind Soonyoung’s machinations, and the first time he’d caught the grateful upturn of Soonyoung’s mouth during one of their live streams after he’d done something to distract the MC from cutting too close to a topic Soonyoung liked to avoid was something he’d never forget.
The fans, the general public, the company… they could have whatever they wanted of them, as long as it was their choice to give.
But this Soonyoung before him, with his hair slick with water, eyes closed and mouth open in rapture, this was the version of him with all the trappings stripped away, the one that only Wonwoo was privileged to see — who craved physical affection, praise, touch. With everyone else in the group, he would be satisfied with the little they would give him, some more generous than others. But here, alone, with Wonwoo, he could be greedy, he could be demanding, he could be honest, as there was very little that Wonwoo could withhold from him. Not when he loved him like this.
The water was frothy with the bubbles that they had run with the bath, the scent of it mixing with Soonyoung’s favorite citrus oils and scents.
It makes Wonwoo feel that every breath he takes is laced with Soonyoung, makes Wonwoo feel surrounded by Soonyoung. His head spins lightly, just on the edge of being overwhelmed. The noises Soonyoung keeps making don’t help.
With one hand spread across the small of Soonyoung’s back and the other pumping two fingers almost lazily into Soonyoung’s entrance, Wonwoo runs teeth and tongue along Soonyoung’s shoulders, the sun-golden stretch of them tempting to mar with bites and marks and brands that would undoubtedly be no one else’s but Wonwoo’s. Unfortunately, the comeback is in a few days, and the wardrobe that the stylists had prepared would be too big of a risk for them to afford.
They’d already gotten a discreet but serious telling off before from their favorite stylist noona after a late night makeout session had led to Wonwoo having to wear turtlenecks for the rest of the week.
Still, Soonyoung fixes Wonwoo with a tiny glare, as if daring him to try it, and Wonwoo meets his eyes, raising a single eyebrow as he lowers his head to tug Soonyoung’s nipple into his mouth.
He’s not trying to get Soonyoung to come right away — he definitely wants to fuck him into that soft thousand threadcount duvet before they both fall asleep — but he can make it good for him as he gets him ready for the night. The punched out moan that Soonyoung makes is answer enough that he’s not against the notion.
“Fuck,” Soonyoung hisses, and Wonwoo thrills to the sound. He worries the bud between his teeth, laving at it until Soonyoung whimpers in oversensitivity and he has to shift to the other. The bubbles pop lazily as Soonyoung starts moving his hips up and down Wonwoo’s fingers, water starting to slosh against the side. Wonwoo doesn’t even shift his gaze, too busy staring in wonder at the way Soonyoung chased after his pleasure, focused and determined even as his mouth slacks and his pupils dilate.
Wonwoo adds another finger, crooks them all to press against the spot he knows Soonyoung likes, and marvels as Soonyoung wails his name.
Abruptly, the decision is made to take things back to the bed. Soonyoung tugs him out of the bath even as he makes a sad noise at the emptiness left behind as he pulls Wonwoo’s fingers out of his hole. Wonwoo makes a mental note to come back and empty the tub later, as he draws Soonyoung back into his arms just short of the king-sized bed they’d be sleeping in that night. They’re dripping wet, soap sluicing down their hips, their legs. Wonwoo paws, possessive, over the curve of Soonyoung’s hip, and squeezes a handful of his ass even as Soonyoung starts to spread his stance to accommodate Wonwoo’s cock between his cheeks.
“Bend over,” Wonwoo says, voice low and ragged with want. Soonyoung tosses him a look over his shoulders, haughty and coquettish, and their mouths meet again to exchange a lurid kiss, before Wonwoo pulls away, dizzy, and shoves Soonyoung onto the bed, held up only by his elbows.
Kneeling almost reverently, Wonwoo pulls Soonyoung’s ass up until it’s inches away from his face. He bites his lower lip, eagerness lighting his face before he licks one long fat stripe from Soonyoung’s perineum to his hole.
Wonwoo settles on his haunches, arms braced around Soonyoung’s shapely thighs, holding them apart so that he can take to his task without obstruction. The filthy guttural moans that fill the air are music to his ears. Soonyoung loves being eaten out as much as Wonwoo enjoys doing it. He hums, almost happily, as he uses his tongue to nudge past the tight ring of muscle, stabbing delicately until he receives purchase.
His hands slide down Soonyoung’s thighs — which have not been getting the attention they deserved this evening and which Wonwoo swears to rectify later — to bracelet around his ankles, rubbing at the delicate juts of bone as he nudges Soonyoung to spread even wider, splay even further for him. He mouths at Soonyoung’s balls, sucking them into his mouth to flick his tongue over them over and over, before going back to arrowing his tongue into his clenching entrance.
He feels more than sees the movement, and suddenly Wonwoo realizes that Soonyoung is holding his own cheeks apart to afford Wonwoo better access to him. For some reason, it’s this that destroys Wonwoo’s restraint, and his noise of gratitude is muffled as he dives into Soonyoung with even more gusto, sucking and licking relentlessly until Soonyoung’s practically weeping into the sheets.
“Wonwoo, please, I’m ready,” Soonyoung croaks out through his sobs. “Fuck me already.”
I need you.
Like this, Soonyoung could ask for anything, ask him for everything, and Wonwoo would only offer him more.
Wonwoo gives Soonyoung a moment to breathe while he fishes out the lube from their overnight luggage. No matter how many times they do this, Soonyoung is always a little tight after a few weeks of no activity between them, and the last thing Wonwoo wants is for his pleasure to come at the cost of Soonyoung’s discomfort.
“Tell me when you feel okay,” Wonwoo says, voice gentle and soft. He leans over to cover Soonyoung’s back with his, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulders. He tastes of sweat, because of course he does. It’s Soonyoung. He hides the fond smile that blooms on his face in the warm of Soonyoung’s skin, as his lube-slick fingers press and pet around Soonyoung’s hole to prepare him for his cock.
“More, Wonwoo, please,” Soonyoung says, voice muffled where he has his face turned into the mattress. Wonwoo acquiesces, going up from two to three fingers after he feels Soonyoung relax beneath him, around him. A small noise of pleasure rumbles through Soonyoung, and Wonwoo wants to coo and tease him for being a happy sated tiger in his hands. “Okay. Okay, I’m okay.”
Wonwoo kneads at Soonyoung’s pert bottom until Soonyoung actually lets out a tiny growl of impatience. Laughing silently to himself, he guides the head of his cock between his cheeks, easing slowly into Soonyoung. The searing tightness staggers him, as always — it never stops feeling like a novelty, having Soonyoung delicious heat surround him so completely. His knees brace as he feels Soonyoung tremble underneath him, and he inhales sharply, overwhelmed, wanting so badly to sink his teeth into the smooth of Soonyoung’s skin. He lathers kisses all over his shoulders and nape instead, free hand snaking underneath him to tug and strip at Soonyoung’s fat, already weeping cock.
“Hurry, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung spits out through gritted teeth, and Wonwoo wants to laugh, near delirious with all the sensations swirling in his head. There’s no rush, he wants to tell Soonyoung. We have so much time, so much time in the world. The rest of our lives, probably.
Beyond this job, beyond this dream… for Wonwoo, there is only Soonyoung, before and ever after.
He begins to thrust shallowly in and out of him, trying to keep the rhythm hard and deep and good for Soonyoung. With the way Soonyoung is whining and crying out — airy little sobs and pleas that drive Wonwoo insane with desire — he knows that Soonyoung wants none of the gentleness that Wonwoo is capable of delivering. Like this, Soonyoung just wants to be fucked and filled, aching for the razor thin line between pain and pleasure. Wonwoo can do that. He wants nothing more.
The gentleness, that could come after.
So he fucks Soonyoung, driving his cock into him until Soonyoung’s elbows start to chafe against the sheets, until he has no choice but to crawl further up the bed from the force of it, the satisfaction reaching into him, settling into and around the tight ball of desire coiled in his gut.
More, Wonwoo, more.
There are times when Soonyoung, the micro manager that he is, prefers to lay atop Wonwoo and wring the pleasure out of them both with the snap and roll of his hips, taking from Wonwoo whatever he has to offer, bouncing on his cock until they both surrender. It makes sense — Soonyoung has the better stamina between them both, and sometimes is very particular about how he wants to be fucked. Wonwoo is happy to let him do it, simply because it’s what Soonyoung wants.
Other times, though, Soonyoung loves benefitting from Wonwoo’s new abs and sturdier forearms, loves feeling surrounded, physically handled and made to feel small, as long as it was Wonwoo doing it. He’s told Wonwoo as much, how much he enjoys hanging off Wonwoo’s shoulders as the other bends him practically in half to take him apart. They don’t always indulge in it — the walls in the dorm are paper-thin and Jeonghan is right there — but when they do, it’s something that Soonyoung loves to try.
So Wonwoo follows him up the bed on hands and knees, rolling him over until Soonyoung is blinking up at him, narrow shoulders fitting between the cage of Wonwoo’s frame, mouth bitten red and cheeks ruddy. “Wonwoo?” he asks, voice wondrous and small, and it makes something snap in Wonwoo. Hooking his elbows underneath the back of Soonyoung’s knees, he pulls until Soonyoung is bared underneath him, hole clenching around nothing until Wonwoo pushes his cock into him again, hips snapping until he’s fully seated in him.
Soonyoung exhales sharply; his eyes widen but he wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s neck to pull him closer. “Love it when you’re in me like this,” he whispers, voice reedy and desperate. “Love it when you fuck me so hard I can’t walk into the practice room normally and the others have to ask me what’s wrong and I can’t tell them it’s because I can still feel you inside me.”
Some kind of white noise starts to make Wonwoo’s ears ring and he grits his teeth, pistoning his hips harder and faster into Soonyoung until he can barely keep whispering filth into his ears.
“Yes, Wonwoo, right there, like that, yes!” Soonyoung tips his head back, neck bared for Wonwoo’s teeth. He stops himself, just barely, but it takes everything inside him not to. “Fuck Wonwoo, fuck, right there. Yes. Yes.”
Wonwoo lifts his hips even more, shifting angles. There’s a tightness forming somewhere in his thighs, but he won’t stop, he can’t stop. He moves just so and suddenly Soonyoung is keening, hands fisting in his hair and pulling tight. Pain bursts behind Wonwoo’s eyes, but it’s a small price to pay to have Soonyoung babbling incoherent praise and pleas into the air. He can feel pleasure, waves of it, cresting inside him, and he lowers his head onto Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Gonna come, fuck, Soonyoung, feels so good.” He is panting into Soonyoung’s collar, teeth itching to brand, and he pulls away before he loses himself completely.
Even under the dark of shadow, Soonyoung is beautiful, back arched in a sinuous curve, eyes wet and glittery. He watches Wonwoo, mouth parted, pretty little tongue resting on his bottom lip. “Come, then, inside me,” he says, and Wonwoo’s brain shuts down partially as his strokes start becoming more erratic. Still, there’s enough lucidity rattling around up there for him to lean all his weight on one arm in order for him to reach down and tug at Soonyoung’s cock, thumb rubbing over the slit at the end.
Soonyoung’s mouth drops and his eyes scrunch shut. He throws his head back and comes with a high-pitched cry, pearly strands painting his chest white. He clenches around Wonwoo, hard, and it’s a gut punch that sets Wonwoo off; he collapses on Soonyoung, his arms giving out and wrapping weakly around Soonyoung’s back as he unloads wave after wave of pleasure inside him.
—-
“What time is check-out tomorrow?”
Soonyoung is drowsy, but there’s a canary-like grin of pleasure pushing his cheeks up into round little balls. It’s a look that Wonwoo thinks suits him well, and one that he wishes he had more often.
“About eleven,” Wonwoo answers him, before he reaches over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and turns off the room lights, leaving just the dim overheads. His mind is trying not to get too ahead of itself, but he knows that when they wake up, they will have to slot back into the business of practicing for their new music show stages and preparing for their local and overseas schedules. Their members and their company aren’t 100% sure about what’s going on between them, but have been gracious enough to give them this time off.
In the morning, they will focus on whatever the company has planned for this album, but for now, Wonwoo will take what he can get.
“Stop thinking,” Soonyoung says, again, but he smiles sweetly at him this time. “No thinking on my birthday.”
“I don’t think it’s your birthday anymore,” Wonwoo murmurs back, smiling; he shifts closer nonetheless, eager to be back in Soonyoung’s orbit, pulling at Soonyoung’s hands until he can drape them around his waist.
“Wrong, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung retorts. “Somewhere in the world, it is still June 15. It is still my birthday.” Wonwoo smiles to himself as Soonyoung makes snuffly noises against the back of his neck; just like this, his heart settles, warms. He turns to look over his shoulder, and he steals one last kiss for the night, a small peck against Soonyoung’s generous, pretty mouth.
“Okay, then. Happy birthday.”