Work Text:
The lights are already off in Yeonjun’s room when Soobin comes in.
Typically— typically they have a routine in place for this. A set of steps they’ve never deviated from, because familiarity is comfort and Yeonjun is nothing if not a creature of habit.
It’s different today. Maybe Yeonjun is looking for a change, for something to light the mischievous part of him that always seeks to gain Soobin’s attention. Maybe he’s just testing Soobin, maybe he wants to see what he’ll do.
Soobin’s no coward, not when it comes to Yeonjun.
So the lights are off when Soobin comes in, and he has to blink away the darkness second by second. It’s difficult to see at first, but Yeonjun has left the window half open, a glint of moonlight that helps just the tiniest bit. It’s a signal, knowing Yeonjun the way he does.
And Yeonjun himself, covers half thrown over his body, shirt raised up just enough to tease, sweatpants hung low on his hips. Strewn about belly down on the bed without a single care, almost peaceful, though Soobin knows that he’d never give himself away if he could.
Still, Soobin sees it. The twitching of his fingertips, the way his eyelashes flutter with the effort to keep his eyes closed, the swallow of his throat when Soobin takes a step closer.
"Hyung," he breathes out, testing. Yeonjun does nothing. He lays there, still pretending, still stubbornly himself. Soobin can’t have that.
The bed doesn’t quite creak under his weight, but it shifts a decent amount, and Yeonjun’s lips purse together just the slightest amount. Soobin counts it as a win as he reaches out to press the tips of his fingertips against the back of Yeonjun’s neck.
"Hyung," he murmurs again, lower, as he trails his hand down Yeonjun’s back, dragging the shirt with it. Yeonjun shivers, then pretends he didn’t. It’s slow, teasing, something Soobin is good at. He takes pride in the reactions he gets out of Yeonjun.
The smallest movement is a reward. Soobin knows it.
His hand splays flat on Yeonjun’s lower back, below his shirt. It stays there for a second, doing nothing, until it slides a bit to the left, and suddenly Soobin is gripping Yeonjun’s waist with too much force and too tight a grip. Yeonjun sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flashing open.
He looks dazed already. Eyes shiny and bright, breaths shallow and unstable, a flush rising across his cheeks with the light of the moon. He looks beautiful. No one can really blame Soobin for kissing him the way he does, hungry and desperate.
The angle is weird, and Yeonjun turns fully to face Soobin, shifting under Soobin briefly before they’re grasping at each other, closing the minimal distance between them, even more wanton gasps leaving Yeonjun with every passing second.
Yeonjun’s lips are cherry red when Soobin looks at him fully, slick and red and open, pearly teeth nipping at Soobin’s thumb when he presses it down on Yeonjun’s tongue, a pressure that makes Yeonjun’s eyes go hazy and glazed.
His heart is beating fast. Fast and hard and Soobin can feel it like a dizzy spell. His thumb slips out of Yeonjun’s mouth, down his chin, holding his mouth open as he settles his body between Yeonjun’s legs. Knees hook around him, pulling him closer, something, something, something trembling in the air.
"Soobin-ah," Yeonjun breathes out, weak and feverish. It’s pretty. Yeonjun is so pretty. Soobin has thought that since the first day he saw him, all sharply blinking eyes, pink flower petal mouth and cheeks the color of a rose. Pretty. Yeonjun is summer bottled up and decorated.
Fingers card through his hair, glimmering eyes caught onto his face as Yeonjun sets the palm of his hand against Soobin’s cheek. His voice comes out softer when he speaks, honeyed, heavy with the heat of his body.
"Soobin-ah, you’re always so good to hyung." Yeonjun pulls him down, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “You always make me feel so good.” And another kiss, more forceful, just as affectionate. "Hyung loves you lots, Soobin."
Yeonjun tastes of mint toothpaste and alcohol, just the faintest hint of it, a glass maybe. Soobin licks into his mouth, fingers caught on the waistband of his sweats, pulling down until Yeonjun unhooks his legs from around Soobin’s waist and pulls them down with minimal shifting. They land somewhere on the floor, and then it’s just Soobin and Yeonjun’s lithe body lying under him, a shirt and his boxers the only layers left.
There’s a small part of Soobin that wants to get up and just— turn the lights on. He wants to see all of Yeonjun, not just the dim glint of his eyes, a half shadowed glimpse of his lips, the hollow of his neck sharp and inviting even without a clear view. Perhaps he would, in another world, another universe.
Perhaps, perhaps Soobin would be braver then, made of a stronger will.
But Yeonjun’s nails scratch the back of his head, digging into his hair, mouth hot and wet and hungry against Soobin’s, and really, really, Yeonjun is much harder to resist than Soobin would like. He is sin personified, without trying.
And Soobin is, well, a weak man of sorts, when it comes to beautiful things.
(Yeonjun is beautiful. Beautiful in ways he can’t even begin to comprehend. He owns the kind of beauty that makes a man want to do wicked, truly wicked things. Yeonjun likes to pretend that he is aware of this, that he knows it well and deep, but Soobin knows better.
He does not see the extent of it, how if he just asked, he’d be given the world on a leash.
Perhaps that’s for the better, as well.)
Soobin’s hands are traitorous things, and they wander to places that have Yeonjun gasping against his lips, a soft utterance of Soobin’s name humming in the back of his throat as Soobin moves to press kisses against the soft edge of his jaw.
Hyung loves you, in the kind of dreamy voice that will haunt Soobin’s head until he starts going mad. The kind of voice he would gladly capture and encapsule if it meant he could listen to it forever.
"Hyung," he says, an echo.
His hands slide Yeonjun’s boxers down, lower, until they’re off and discarded as well. (Ask Soobin the color of them and he’d go blank.) Yeonjun’s eyelashes flutter, brows furrowed, when Soobin spits into his hand and wraps it around Yeonjun’s cock.
He is ethereal, even now, an ephemeral vision that will surely ingrain itself into Soobin’s mind, until it is all his senses can remember. Soobin’s throat is dry, a desert all on its own.
Yeonjun has always made minimal noise in bed, for all that he does in his daily life. Always whining, always nagging, always making his presence known in some way. But here— he is quiet, and he is pitchy, and he is lovely. A rose with its thorns plucked out, left bare in his own bed.
"You’re so wet, hyung." Soobin says, only mildly teasing. It comes out rougher than he’d like, but Yeonjun is just dripping and it is so obscene it drives Soobin crazy. He was made for this, to be touched, to be loved, to be given all sorts of pleasures and to be treated with the utmost importance.
This, Soobin thinks, is highly important. His thumb brushes against Yeonjun’s slit, feather light, and Yeonjun whines, high in his throat. "Soobin-ah," he breathes out, voice wounded with delectation. His eyes are wide, blinking slow and syrupy, long lashes clumped with tears.
Soobin has the strangest urge to make him cry, to have him sobbing and weak, overwhelmed by all of Soobin’s efforts.
"It’s okay." Soobin tells him, soft, a bit cruel in the way he enjoys Yeonjun’s whimpers. "I know you’ve had to wait a while. I promise I’ll make it good."
Yeonjun hums, a weak mhm that cuts off into a sharp cry when Soobin spits directly on his cock. It’s filthy. Really, Soobin couldn’t be more satisfied. Yeonjun’s pupils unfocus, lips trembling around a fraction of Soobin’s name. "You always do, Soobin."
It’s a satisfying thought, that he’s always met Yeonjun’s expectations, that he’s been the center of Yeonjun’s attention if even just for this. It is such a fickle thing, Yeonjun’s affection, such a difficult thing to have for longer than the few minutes he decides to invest in someone.
Soobin gets off the bed, already grasping for the lube, already too on edge for the little they’ve done so far. Barely a touch, not even on him, and Soobin is half gone with want.
Yeonjun makes a sweet, pitched noise when Soobin shoves his legs apart, when he spreads him apart with his palms, when he strokes his hole with his thumb. It’s nothing, really, and it is everything. Because Yeonjun is still so willingly giving towards Soobin, still seeking a touch he could get anywhere else, if he just wanted it.
If he just sought it.
But it is Soobin’s hands on him, it is Soobin’s thumb pressing into his hole, wet, warm, taking his body as it is. It is Soobin.
It has always been Soobin, since the beginning, and Soobin knows this as a universal truth.
Yeonjun seeks comfort in the form of an open mouthed kiss, nose bumping into Soobin’s when he leans down again. Like this, he feels the difference in their bodies, the way he is built and the way Yeonjun is smaller, sinking into the bed with a slight shudder when Soobin bites into his shoulder.
He fucks a finger into him, hot, Yeonjun a vice grip around him and so tight that Soobin would think him a virgin if not for past experiences.
"Soobin-ah," he whispers, dazed, back arching and chest pressing onto Soobin’s. Yeonjun is delectable— something so beguiling in his eyes, a beauty so true it almost hurts to look at him. "You’re so good to me, Soobin."
(Yeonjun is summer bottled up and decorated. Soobin knows this as a universal truth, too. He understands why they choose him for brands, why he is so adored, why when he smiles, the world stops and the stars shine brighter.)
There is little being said for a while, because Soobin is focused on making Yeonjun feel good, on touching him everywhere he can, on drawing out sweet little whines and high whimpers from him when Yeonjun turns away in shame.
Soobin is hard, has been for a while, from the moment he got here and saw Yeonjun lying on the bed, offered up like a treat by his own will, but he doesn’t really care about it at this point.
Yeonjun’s breath hitches at when Soobin fucks two fingers into him, a bit red in the face, his own hand working at his cock. He’s edging himself, just barely, because Soobin knows Yeonjun likes it when he comes after Soobin and really, holding out is his strength.
Soobin’s right hand is resting on Yeonjun’s waist, his grip on it so unyielding that Yeonjun’s body feels glued to it. He can feel the way it melts into wider hips, the way his stomach shifts with the arch of his back when he moves, can see the way his fingers splay wide against the curve of it. Soobin could probably wrap both hands around it and almost have the tips of his fingers touch.
It’s a nice thought. A thought that sends a flare of heat down Soobin’s spine like a flame thoroughly lit, so distracting he doesn’t notice how his fingers curl up inside Yeonjun, dragging. Yeonjun makes a muffled noise at it, giving in some more, just the slightest bit looser. Soobin quite likes it.
"Please," Yeonjun says, weak and heated. "Soobin, Soobin, Soobin." He mutters, a whine creeping into his voice, the type of thing that would drive anyone crazy within seconds. Soobin already knows it’ll be included in recurring dreams of his.
He fucks three fingers into him, rough, Yeonjun tight around him in a way that makes his mouth drop open, eyes dazed as they fall shut. It’s funny, in a way, because Soobin has never seen him like this, a desperate mess of a man so soon.
Yeonjun is— he is all commanding presence and playful remarks until Soobin has him like this, beneath him, given exactly what he wants without having to ask. They’ve grown together into adulthood and Soobin thinks, this is what it means to know someone. To be connected in a way only certain people can be.
I am yours and you are mine , something once said in tears and in honesty. It is true, even now, with Yeonjun’s wide hips pushing down, body undulating against Soobin’s, his thighs shifting with the force of holding back. His cock has gone untouched for a few minutes now, because Yeonjun knows his own limits and has drawn the invisible line.
A line. Soobin has toed it before, and he knows how it ends. He keeps his hands busy anywhere on Yeonjun’s body that is not his cock, dripping wet, making a mess of the shirt he never did take off. Soobin thinks it makes him look just a tiny bit virginal, waiting to be taken for the first time.
A sweet little gift, all fluttery lashes and pink peppered cheeks. He is breathtaking, and Soobin will never tire of thinking so. (Perhaps it is a thing he should keep to himself, but Soobin has never been good at deciding which words deserve the weight of utterance.)
Praises make Yeonjun shy, Soobin has learned, when they come from a person he least expects it from, in situations where he does not have complete control. Soobin tells him, "You look gorgeous hyung," in a voice that could melt ice, and Yeonjun sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, letting it go with a pop and an embarrassed turn of his head.
His body takes all four of Soobin’s fingers like it was made to do so, like he was specifically sent down for Soobin himself, like they were both made to fit together in ways no one else would be able to. Puzzle pieces with sharp edges and the same fate.
That is, to say, Yeonjun looks fucking delicious under Soobin, and there’s only so much self control he can exert before he has to give up. Just looking at the way Yeonjun’s body melts into the sheets, the muscle in his thighs bunched up as he begs for more, gasping for it.
He is gasping for it. Soobin is ruined for anyone else.
There is only so much self control, and Soobin has used up all of it, ridden down to a thread of patience that snaps as soon as Yeonjun looks at him, nearly cross-eyed with want, dumb with it. His mouth can’t even form the words he needs, but Soobin understands regardless.
He strokes himself, heat flaring, his hunger a very tangible thing, burning like a thousand fires. And then he’s sliding into Yeonjun, messy with lube, aching with the need to fuck him hard and fast and deep. He. He wants like nothing else.
He groans out a feverish hyung, and Yeonjun responds in kind, pulling Soobin closer, hips grinding down with all the force he can muster. It’s weak, a subpar attempt, but Soobin knows Yeonjun is asking for it all.
And Soobin gives. He has never denied Yeonjun a thing, not when they are like this, entwined into one. When he can’t even try to imagine where he begins and where Yeonjun ends.
It is a desperate thing, the way Soobin fucks Yeonjun. It has been a month, maybe more, maybe less, but it’s all Soobin can focus on. It’s been too long and here they are, Yeonjun pulling him in, nails digging into Soobin’s back and lips all over Soobin’s jaw. Yeonjun has always been pretty. Even now. More so than ever.
He’s hot and he’s tight and he is burning, soft, a wild creature from the depths, his thighs squeezing around Soobin’s waist. He’s actively trying to pull Soobin closer even when there’s no space left to close. And he’s making these, these noises, desperate and whiny. Coming from his throat, driving Soobin absolutely insane.
"God," Is all Soobin can really manage at the moment, eyes squeezed shut, his cock enveloped in heat and wetness. Yeonjun is so, so messy. His left hand is stroking himself, teasing, feather light as Soobin slams into him with so much force that the bed downright shakes.
There’s no stars, no angels descending from heaven with the sole purpose of preaching the truth. But there is mind numbing pleasure spreading from the top of Soobin’s head to his toes, coming straight from where’s he’s fucking Yeonjun’s little hole loose.
Yeonjun relaxes into the bed with every dig of Soobin’s hips, going boneless against the bed, flinching like he’s been shocked when Soobin brushes against his prostate. There’s a never-ending stream of Soobin’s name leaving his lips, profanities mixed in with sweet sighs and soft moans. Soobin is completely ruined .
"See hyung?" He asks, dazed, the sole purpose of his body to drive into Yeonjun violently, to fuck him dumb and stupid with it. "I’m so good to you." He punches every word with a violent fuck of his cock, pushing until he can’t move any further, drawing out with a slick, wet noise.
Something so filthy it makes Yeonjun let out an embarrassed whimper, throwing his arm over his eyes. It’s unacceptable. Soobin clicks his tongue, and moves it away.
Yeonjun blinks at him, teary-eyed, long lashes glistening with them, the very air around him one of sin. Soobin thinks it’s a view he’d kill to have for himself. Just for him. A selfish thought, but a true one nonetheless. "Soobin…" Yeonjun says, quiet, trembling, a breathy tone that could blow buildings to their demise.
Soobin is nearly feral with it now, the force of his want, the true terror of his urges coming true as he fills Yeonjun up, again and again, hand tight around Yeonjun’s waist, so tight it will leave bruises for weeks. He’d like to think it will, at least, because there’s always been that urge to mark Yeonjun within him.
Yeonjun squeezes around him, his mouth open in a glistening gasp of Soobin’s name as he drags his fingers around his own cock, playing with himself, and all it takes is a single harsh thrust of Soobin’s cock before he’s coming. Breath heaving, back arching, a true vision on its own.
It feels like a reward almost. A feeling of satisfaction wells up inside Soobin, wraps around him like a blanket, bleeding into his single-minded focus.
And Yeonjun clenches around him, dazed, still in the high of his orgasm as he mutters a small, Soobin, dreamy like the last wisp of a fantasy. It is tender. It is soft. It is everything Soobin wants, Just an endless mantra of his name, said in that exact tone, given that exact same meaning.
Soobin fucks into a still giving Yeonjun. It wells up inside him, everything all at once, and he buries himself as deep as he can before he’s cumming, his face buried in the space between Yeonjun’s shoulder and his neck.
"Soobin-ah," Yeonjun says after a while. Just his name, at first. "Oh, Soobin."
Soobin makes a noise of acknowledgment.
"Soobin-ah," Yeonjun whispers again, hands cupping Soobin’s face, dragging him upwards. "Hyung loves you lots."