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Sunoo is down on his knees when he brings it up.
“So… now that we’re dating…” He pauses for a second while he strokes Sunghoon’s thick shaft, the slide made easy with precum and spit. “Can I, like, call you something else?”
Sunghoon doesn’t look like he’s really paying attention. “Call me what?” he says, his half-lidded eyes focused on Sunoo’s little fingers wrapped around his dick.
“You know.” Sunoo kisses the head of Sunghoon’s cock, open-mouthed, letting the saliva in his mouth spill out and make it messier. In the quiet hotel room, the soft, wet sounds of sex feel more pronounced. “Like, Sunghoon-ah.”
“Call me— oh. Yeah, no.” Sunghoon sets his hand over Sunoo’s, guiding him into a different rhythm, slightly faster. “I can’t handle that from you.”
What. “So you want me to be your boyfriend, but I can’t yah you?” Sunoo isn’t even trying to contribute to the handjob anymore. He looks at Sunghoon incredulously, dangling his other wrist in the air. “Am I seriously supposed to call you hyung when I’m taking your dick?”
“Yeah.” The corner of Sunghoon’s mouth crooks into a smile. “Or you can call me oppa. That would be cute.”
Sunoo glares at him. “That’s never happening.”
like 15 minutes later
“Ask politely,” Sunghoon says, tightening his hands on Sunoo’s hips as he fucks into him. Does he get off on traditional Confucian values or something? Sunoo wants to scream.
But he’s so close to coming, so instead he just mumbles into the pillow, his voice barely audible. “Hyung, please, I wanna— can you touch me?”
“Try again.” There’s an undertone of amusement in Sunghoon’s voice, but he’s panting, too, clearly approaching his own peak. Sunoo would try to get friction against the mattress, but there’s no way he’s getting out of the position Sunghoon has him in, hips up and back arched. He feels like a doll.
“Sunghoon-ssi.” Sunghoon breathes out a laugh at that, snapping his hips harder, and Sunoo whines with frustration. “Oppa, c’mon, I’m—”
Sunghoon fists Sunoo’s cock before he can finish that sentence. Tight heat envelops him, and Sunoo goes limp like all his strings have been cut, mouth open against the spit-slick pillow. “Sunghoon-oppa,” he whimpers, fucked-out and dumb.
“I know.” Sunghoon’s thrusts are faster now, rougher, the room filling with the dirty slap-slap-slap of him chasing his release. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. So fucking tight. Gonna make me—”
But Sunoo comes first, his toes curling as he shudders, clenching around Sunghoon’s dick. “Fuck,” Sunghoon exhales, his voice raw. He pulls out, ignoring Sunoo’s quiet whine, and strips his cock with his hand until he’s coming, thick ropes of cum spilling over Sunoo’s ass.
It’s quiet for a minute. Then Sunghoon leans down, pressing a kiss against Sunoo’s hip. “Stay here, okay?” he says, which is completely unnecessary. Sunoo can’t go anywhere; he’s too busy coming to terms with the fact that he just got dicked within an inch of his life over a fucking suffix.
When Sunghoon returns with a damp washcloth, Sunoo’s brain is back online. Kind of. “Doesn’t it feel better coming inside me?” he asks, tilting his head to look at his boyfriend as he cleans him up gently. Sunghoon’s wearing a pair of sweats that sit low on his hips, accentuating the v of his bare abdomen, and his eyes are warm when he looks at Sunoo.
“Yeah, but I like the visual this way. Makes you look like you’re mine.”
Sunghoon drops the washcloth somewhere to the side, and Sunoo turns to reach out for him, childish and needy. “Say that again.”
The bed dips slightly as Sunghoon drops his full weight on it. “What?” he says, pulling Sunoo closer. His one side dimple pops out the way it always does when he’s teasing him. “That I like coming on your ass?”
Sunoo bites Sunghoon’s bicep, leaving little pink-white imprints in his skin. “Shut up. I meant the other part.”
“You’re mine,” Sunghoon tells him, his voice low and soft, like it’s a secret just for them. Sunoo licks over the mark he left, pleased.
“You’re mine too.”
“That’s mine-ssi to you.”
Sunoo doesn’t quite manage to shove Sunghoon off the bed, sending him crashing to the floor and forever altering the course of his life with the resultant traumatic brain injury, but it’s a close thing. Sunghoon just laughs.
a few weeks after that
“Someone’s blowing up your phone,” Ni-ki calls lazily from where he’s sitting on another hotel bed, watching TV. Sunoo doesn’t know if it’s the fact that he’s almost eighteen or just Belift giving him all of the rap verses in their songs, but it feels like his voice drops an octave every day.
Sunoo squeezes lavender-scented lotion into his palm, smoothing it over his elbows; the air in Osaka has been leaving them dry. His reflection is blurry in the fogged-up bathroom mirror. “Who is it?”
“Uh… oppa. He wants you to know you’re the prettiest.” There’s barely concealed laughter in Ni-ki’s voice. “Wait, is this Sunghoon? How drunk is he?”
It only takes Sunoo a few seconds to make it back to their room, brandishing the dainty lavender lotion bottle like it’s a weapon. “Drop the phone. Now.”
Ni-ki stands up to his full height, grinning cockily down at Sunoo as he holds the phone out of reach. “Or what? You’ll tell your oppa?”
“You little bitch—”
“Fuck, okay, sorry. I take it back. Hyung, seriously, it was just a j— ow ow ow.”
Sunoo leaves Ni-ki sprawled on the bed, clutching his bruised ribs, and storms away with his phone in hand. He’s changing Sunghoon’s name to 전 남친.