Archive of Our Own

It had been an offhand comment. Something Zhang Hao didn’t even think 2 seconds about, deep into their Produce 101 marathon, because Zhang Hao was deeply offended by the fact Hanbin had never watched the series.

“They should’ve let us choose our outfits on Boys Planet. You would’ve looked killer in a skirt.”

And that was it. Hanbin hummed back at him, and they continued watching, curled up in on the couch. Taerae came in a few minutes after and watched the rest of the episode with them. That. Was. It. A normal, regular night that Zhang Hao didn’t spare a second thought to.

Apparently though, Hanbin did. Because Zhang Hao is currently standing in the doorway of his room, staring at Hanbin wearing a very real skirt.

And not just any skirt. He has on the entire Produce 101 uniform. Zhang Hao feels his dick twitch in his pants. He is probably gaping like a fish but he doesn’t feel in control of anything right now, let alone a coherent thought.

In front of him, Hanbin fidgets, hands tugging at the hem of the pink skirt. The very, extremely short pink skirt. Hao just blinks. He doesn’t think it was that short on the show.

He looks — fuck. The plaid tie is in a neat knot at the base of his neck, the jacket tailored perfectly to his body. White knee socks hug his calves, stretch around the muscle. The skirt flutters over his thighs every time he even slightly moves, fanning over his hips. 

“Oh,” Zhang Hao finally gets out, absolutely dumbstruck. Hanbin stares at him expectantly, biting his lip as the tips of his ears flare red.

“Hi, hyung,” he stutters out, trying to stand up taller, straightening out his jacket. Like he’s posing for Zhang Hao. “Um. What do you think?”

What does he think? He can barely think, is the issue. He can’t take his eyes off the fucking skirt.

“Can you…” Zhang Hao starts, voice hoarse. He swallows. “Can you turn around for me, baby?” Hanbin blushes an even deeper red but nods, spinning around on a socked heel. 

Now, Zhang Hao has never been particularly religious, but he might believe in a god now, watching the hem of the skirt flutter over the curve of Hanbin’s ass, the swell of it just barely visible when it swishes around. His mouth feels dry. What the fuck.

Hanbin looks at him over his shoulder, expectantly. Zhang Hao is still rooted to his spot, like he’s unable to even move his legs no matter how desperately he wants to touch right now. He also kind of just wants to look, fully appreciate everything in front of him. Commit it to memory. He wonders if Hanbin would let him take a picture.

Hanbin tsks, softly. “You came in too early hyung, I wasn’t even done yet.” He sounds out of breath. Zhang Hao can relate. It’s then that his eyes flick over to the vanity at Hanbin’s left, and the makeup scattered over it. Most look open, used already, but he zeroes in on the few tubes of lip product that Hanbin was clearly contemplating.

“I borrowed them from the makeup noona. Told her I wanted to practice,” Hanbin says, rushed. Zhang Hao’s legs finally unlock and he makes his way silently to the vanity, eyes roaming along the products before he picks up a berry pink lip stain.

“Want me to help you finish up, Hanbin-ah?” Zhang Hao asks, cocking his head. Hanbin nods at him, his fingers twitching. Zhang Hao approaches him, slowly, and it takes everything in him not to get his hands on him immediately. But patience is a virtue or whatever. And it’ll be worth it, later.

“Get on the bed,” he says, not commanding, not yet, but simply straight to the point. Hanbin’s eyes are wide, expectant, and he takes a few steps back until his knees hit the bed, taking a seat.

Zhang Hao moves closer until their knees are just barely touching, letting Hanbin blink up at him through his lashes. The skirt fans out around his thighs, his hands clasped politely over his lap. He’s so good.

Reaching a hand out, Zhang Hao takes Hanbin’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting his head up higher. “Open your mouth for me a bit, jagiya.”

Hanbin’s breath catches at the pet name, but he obeys, lips parting obediently. Any other time, Zhang Hao would use this opportunity to stick two fingers in his mouth, watch Hanbin’s lips curl around them, but — later.

For now, he lets go of Hanbin’s chin briefly to uncap the lip stain. Juggling the container in his hand, he steadies Hanbin’s face, bringing the wand to his lips. He swipes the stain along Hanbin’s bottom lip first, watching the color bloom, almost matching the shade of his cheeks. He traces along his top lip, lining around his Cupid’s bow carefully. 

Once there’s enough product deposited, he recaps the product, tossing it somewhere on the ground to deal with later. Gripping his chin again, Zhang Hao uses his pointer finger to gently dab at the harsh edges, blending the color out, making Hanbin’s lips look even more full and flushed.

He presses into his bottom lip, unable to help himself as he pushes his finger slightly into Hanbin’s mouth. Hanbin closes his lips almost instinctively, tongue flicking at the pad of his finger, licking off the remnants of the stain. The product smells like vanilla cake, so he presumes it can’t taste too bad, especially not from the way Hanbin is kitten licking at it.

Zhang Hap slips his finger back out, spit glistening, dragging it down Hanbin’s chin, smearing the product slightly on his bottom lip. He likes that even better, if he’s being honest.

“There you go. Perfect,” Zhang Hao hums. Hanbin’s clearly turned on already, bulge evident in the skirt. “So pretty for me, Hanbinnie. You did this all for hyung?”

Hanbin nods up at him, eyes glassy. His bangs fall slightly into his eyes and Zhang Hao brushes them out of the way. “You said — you said you thought I would look good in a skirt. So I just wanted to see, I guess,” he says, breathless already. “Wanted you to see it for real.”

“Always so good for me,” Zhang Hao says, letting go of Hanbin to make his way along the bed. Hanbin twists around to follow his movement, watching as Zhang Hao sits back against the headboard. “Join me?”

He moves to shuffle over on the bed and Zhang Hao sees an honest to god flash of pinkunder the skirt which causes his entire brain to stop working for a minute. Oh.

“Hanbin-ah,” he says, stopping Hanbin in his tracks. He’s kneeling in the center of the bed now, paused on his way to get to Zhang Hao. He tilts his head.

“Hyung?” Hanbin asks him, confused. His eyes are so big, unsure why he was stopped. He’s so fucking cute, even in a skirt short as sin and what Zhang Hao presumes to be — 

“What are you wearing under there, hm?” Zhang Hao asks. Hanbin has the audacity to look sheepish at this, tugging the hem of the skirt down. He tries to glare at Zhang Hao, but it doesn’t really carry any heat at the moment.

“No spoilers.” He’s pouting now. “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

“So impatient,” Zhang Hao rolls his eyes, but reaches his hands out for Hanbin to come closer, so Hanbin can straddle his thighs. This close, he can feel Hanbin’s body heat radiating off of him, wrapping his hands around his waist.

Yet, he makes no further move to kiss him, instead letting Hanbin fidget on his lap the more he has to wait. It’s like a fun little game to Zhang Hao, bringing Hanbin to the edge. There’s a path to it, every time. His eyes roam over his body again, at the way the jacket cinches in so perfectly around his waist, the tie that’s begging to be tugged at. “How did you even manage to find a uniform that fits you?”

Hanbin swallows, averting his eyes. “Please don’t ask. I managed.”

Zhang Hao bites back a smile. Sounds about right. He’s not sure he wants to know the lengths he had to go through for his one, he can just be appreciative now. 

“You look gorgeous. Can’t believe you did all of this for me. How did I get so lucky?” He’s laying it in thick, he knows, but Hanbin’s eyes always go so glassy the more he layers on the praise. He can feel the way his thighs clench where he’s straddling him, betting that there’s a damp spot forming on his skirt already. 

“Just for you,” Hanbin breathes out. He licks his lips and Zhang Hao’s eyes track the movement, stare at the sheen of gloss and spit left over. He wants to kiss him.

Trailing his fingers up and down Hanbin’s sides, he leans into Hanbin’s space, so close he can feel Hanbin’s breath. Wordlessly, he connects their lips, hands moving down to grip at Hanbin's bare thighs, pulling him closer into his lap as he licks into his mouth.

Hanbin gives in so easily, every time, sinking immediately into Zhang Hao’s touch. He paws at his chest, twisting the fabric of his shirt between his fingers. It’s like all he ever wants is to be as close as possible, their bodies pressed against each other at all points.

Zhang Hao takes his time, tongue languid in Hanbin’s mouth as he swallows down every little sound he makes, every gasp that escapes. It feels sacrilegious, but he tugs off Hanbin’s jacket so he can touch him easier, freeing him from the confines of the blazer. Hanbin’s body burns through the white button down, the thin fabric stretching around his body. He wraps his arms tighter around his waist, caging him in.

Shuddering, Hanbin’s hips jerk forward, the line of his cock evident as their hips connect. It’s like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, small grinds against Zhang Hao as he flicks their tongues together. And that just won’t do.

Pulling back, Zhang Hao raises an eyebrow at him. Hanbin is out of it, eyes blinking open slowly, shifting his head forward like he’s chasing his touch. “Someone’s getting ahead of themselves.”

It dawns on Hanbin then, cheeks blooming a deeper red as he realizes what he’s been doing. 

“Sorry, hyung,” Hanbin whispers. He bites his lip, smoothing the fabric on Zhang Hao’s chest with his palms nervously. Zhang Hao just hums in response, tugging at the tie around Hanbin’s neck.

“I should tie you up with this another time. But it just looks so pretty on you that it feels wrong to take it off,” he says, casually changing the subject as he gives it another tug. Hanbin’s eyelashes flutter at the praise, but he stays still.

He likes the tie even better when he uses it to pull Hanbin back closer to him, nosing at his jaw and licking a stripe down his neck. Hanbin’s thighs clench around his as he works at the available skin with his teeth, not too hard to leave a mark but hard enough he can feel it.

His own cock throbs in his pants, reminding him that he’s been neglecting it since he entered Hanbin’s room. It’s like Hanbin has a sixth sense for it, because above him he lets out a small whine.

“Hyung, can I touch you?” 

Zhang Hao blows warm air against Hanbin’s neck, just to make him shiver, before leaning back. “Hm. Maybe. If you show me what’s underneath your pretty skirt first.”

He rests his hands on Hanbin’s thighs, waiting, as Hanbin stares at him. Zhang Hao pouts, just for good measure, bottom lip jutting out as if he’s saying please.

Hanbin nods at him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks almost nervous. He slides back a bit on the bed so Zhang Hao can see better, lifting himself on his knees

Slowly, he lifts the hem of his skit up, revealing more and more of his thighs, before — 

Fuck.

Zhang Hao’s mouth goes dry as the pink lace is exposed, panties stretched across his cock, cutting high on his hips. He honestly might black out if Hanbin turns around because what the fuck.

The baby pink is a stark contrast to the smooth skin of Hanbin’s thighs, and there’s no way he didn’t wax yesterday, pale skin looking soft and bare. Hanbin’s cock bulges underneath, hard and leaking, tip of the head sticking out from the waistband because there’s just not enough fabric to hold him in.

“Baby,” Zhang Hao breathes out, unable to look away. He slowly brings his hands up, skimming them across Hanbin’s thighs until his fingers touch the edge of the lace at his hips. “You’re gorgeous.” Hanbin lets out a small whine, skirt hem still clutched to his chest as he lets Zhang Hao take his time, drink it all in.

“Do you like them?” Hanbin asks, softly. Zhang Hao is almost offended he would even ask that question. He wants to simultaneously rip them off him immediately and also never let Hanbin wear anything else ever again. Imagining Hanbin wearing those under anything, his practice sweats, during a performance…

Zhang Hao swallows thickly, fingers digging into the swell of Hanbin’s ass. He brings one hand around, palming at Hanbin’s cock through the panties and the sound Hanbin makes —

“I don’t think I’m the only one who likes them,” he murmurs, pressing the lace against Hanbin’s shaft. He wonders how it feels, wonders how rough it is against him. Especially with how sensitive Hanbin is when he gets like this, the lightest touches sending him to the edge.

“Come closer, you’re too far,” Zhang Hao huffs, gripping Hanbin’s ass so he can tug him back on top of him. Hanbin loses balance on his knees, yelping as he falls forward onto him. He lets go of his skirt, letting it fall back around his thighs so he can catch himself on Zhang Hao’s shoulders. Their cocks brush when Hanbin attempts to reposition himself, and Hanbin lets out a strangled moan.

Zhang Hao tightens his grip, rutting up against Hanbin, just so he’ll make that sound again. Even through his shorts and Hanbin’s skirt, he can feel the pulsing length of him, the heat. 

Speaking of heat — Zhang Hao reluctantly lets go of Hanbin to pull his shirt off over his head, Hanbin already overheating him. He puts Hanbin out of his misery and unbuttons his shirt as well, he’s already started sweating through it and Zhang Hao has barely even touched him yet. 

He takes his time, button by button, Hanbin tense beneath his fingers. He peels the shirt off Hanbin’s shoulders, loosening the tie just enough for the collar to slip through. Hanbin’s chest tattoos peek out over the top of the knot and Zhang Hao traces them with his finger, making him shiver.

“Thank you,” Hanbin murmurs, trying to get Zhang Hao to kiss him again, chasing his mouth. He clicks his tongue, but gives in all the same, capturing Hanbin’s lips as his hands trail back up his thighs, under his skirt, palming at his ass. He guides Hanbin’s hips to grind back down, swallowing the noise that escapes from Hanbin’s mouth.

They rut against each other like that, kisses growing messier, wetter, spit trailing down their chins as Hanbin starts losing control the deeper Zhang Hao licks into his mouth. He’s so easy when he gets like this, anything can work him up, bring him to the edge. He’ll take anything, Zhang Hao’s hand, cock, thigh — anything that he will give him.

Hanbin’s making these breathy little sounds, uncontrollably, hips becoming erratic in Zhang Hao’s hold. “Hyung,” he cries out, desperation evident in his voice.

Sweat drips down his temple, Zhang Hao can feel it drip down onto his cheeks, and it’s then that he digs his fingers in, stopping Hanbin’s movements in their tracks. Hanbin whines immediately at the loss of friction, pulling back to blink at him through wet eyelashes.

“Hyung,” he repeats, voice wobbly. His hips try to grind back down but Zhang Hao just continues to hold him in place, eyes narrowing. They both know, realistically, Hanbin could break out of his hold with 5% of effort, but then where’s the fun in that? Hao likes to rile him up, tease him, patronize him, and Hanbin — wants.

So it makes it easy, easy for Zhang Hao to break their hips apart and not give in to Hanbin’s whines, give him what he’s desperate for already. Makes it fun for him.

“There you go again,” Hao patronizes. He glances back down to Hanbin’s crotch, the wet patch on the front of the skirt where he’s already leaked through. Cute. His fingers twitch where they’re buried in Zhang Hao’s hair.

“Please, I want…,” Hanbin trails, biting his tongue as he looks at Zhang Hao. The tie hangs around his neck, his flush chest the same shade of pink as the plaid.

“Want what?” Zhang Hao asks, cocking his head. “What, don’t you want me to fuck you?”

A broken whine escapes Hanbin’s mouth and he’s nodding, even as his hips still twitch in Zhang Hao’s hold. Like he’s torn between rutting back against Zhang Hao until he comes in his panties or letting Zhang Hao rip them off and fuck straight into him instead.

Not that he really gets a say in the matter, if Zhang Hao doesn’t get his dick inside him soon he might actually die at this point. It’s all he’s been able to think about since he saw that fucking skirt.

He shifts Hanbin so he can reach over to the bedside table, but before he gets far Hanbin makes a strangled noise.

“Um. Under the pillow,” he says, looking anywhere but at his face. Both of Zhang Hao’s eyebrows raise at this, but he doesn’t say anything, repositioning himself and Hanbin on top of him. Rummaging under the pillows behind him, he finds the bottle of lube hidden away.

“And why is the lube under your pillow, Hanbin-ah?” Zhang Hao asks him. He wraps his hand around Hanbin’s tie, tugging on it slightly. It tightens around his neck and Hanbin’s breath hitches but he still doesn’t answer. “Use your words.”

Hanbin swallows. “I…fingered myself, already, before you got here. Thinking about you. Wondering if you would like it.” His voice is strained, breathy, gesturing briefly to the skirt.

“Mmm. Keep going,” Zhang Hao says, palming down on Hanbin’s cock.

“Oh, I — I had. The skirt on,” Hanbin hiccups, being so good to not grind up against Zhang Hao’s palm, letting Zhang Hao take his time. “It felt, ah, really — really nice. Made me feel — soft. Pretty.”

“And what did you imagine me doing to you, in the skirt? Hyung pushing your panties to the side and fucking into your pretty hole?” He reaches back, brushing a finger over it through Hanbin’s panties.

“Hyung,” Hanbin pants, breathing heavily now. His eyes slipped close.

“Didn’t tell you to stop talking, baby,” Hao frowns, stopping the ministrations of his hand. Hanbin whimpers at the loss.

“Want to—“ Hanbin starts, trying to control himself. He’s almost sweet, when he gets like this. Desperate. “Thought about. Riding you, thought you would like that.”

“Oh, baby,” Hao coos at him. “Who am I to deny that when you’ve been so good?” He slips a finger underneath the lace, pressing it against the ring of muscle. It’s still wet, a slick layer of lube covering it. Zhang Hao supplies the barest hint of pressure, tip slipping it, and Hanbin lets out a haggard breath. His palms scramble on Zhang Hao’s chest, nails digging into the skin.

Hanbin makes it so easy for him. Tugging in the tie again, he slips his finger in, to the knuckle, the slide easy, loose and stretched already. Probably not even necessary for him to finger him at all, but Zhang Hao is nothing if not thorough.

Sweat glistens on Hanbin’s chest, as he struggles not to bear down on Zhang Hao’s finger, rut against his stomach. His hips tremble from the effort, thighs tense where they’re wrapped around him. His bottom lip is bitten raw, as he continues to suck it into his mouth, trying to swallow down the sounds he’s making. 

“You’re so cute,” Zhang Hao comments, slipping another finger in without warning. Hanbin’s entire body jolts, falling forward further into Zhang Hao’s chest, trying to brace himself and failing. He ducks his face into the junction of Hao’s shoulder, wetly mouthing at the skin there.

“Please, please, I — oppa,” Hanbin’s voice is strangled as he cries out and Zhang Hao’s fingers briefly freeze their ministrations. Well. That’s a new one.

A shiver runs down his back. He can work with that.

“Been such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, feeling the way Hanbin’s body reacts, twitching against him. “I think you’ve earned this, yeah baby? Turn around.”

Zhang Hao is trying not to let his voice waver, but it’s hard with Hanbin this desperate and panting against him. Truly, he should get an award for his restraint, he thinks. It’s almost admirable that anyone could be this calm and chill and strong with a lap full of Sung Hanbin.

Sung Hanbin, who is turning around on trembling thighs, craning his head back to look at Zhang Hao when he’s situated. He’s so flushed, pupils blown and eyes wet as he waits.

And finally, fucking finally, can Zhang Hao lift the edge of Hanbin’s skirt and see his ass, barely covered by the pink lace wrapped around it. Hell. The contrast of lace against skin has his mouth watering, and if this were a different night he’d consider letting Hanbin just sit on his face for as long until he passes out.

But Hanbin had a request, and who is Zhang Hao to deny Hanbin that, in the end. Especially when he’s been so good. He traces the line of Hanbin’s panties around the swell of his ass, cock twitching where Hanbin barely brushes against it.

“Pretty. Such a pretty girl,” Zhang Hao breathes and he can see the way Hanbin clenches around nothing, even through the lace. That won’t do, he thinks, as he pinches the edge to drag it to the side. It’s stretchy, letting him reveal Hanbin fully, his rim twitching.

Zhang Hao’s own dick is so hard, he needed to be in him an hour ago at this point. Hanbin is like every wet dream come true.

Hanbin, who’s still watching him, eyes half lidded, teeth digging into his lip as Zhang Hao stares at him, taking it all in.

“Higher, on your knees,” Zhang Hao instructs, and Hanbin, ever so obedient, raises himself immediately. His thighs twitch, holding himself up, and Hao runs a soothing hand up the side, before he’s pushing his shorts down, gripping the base of his neglected cock and trying not to let out a sound at the contact. He is in control. He quickly grabs some lube, coating himself.

“Baby, hand,” Hao murmurs, Hanbin bringing a hand back for Zhang Hao to grab and replace where his own was, holding his panties off to the side, bunching the skirt up. Hanbin’s fingers dig harder into the meat of his ass, pulling himself further open for Zhang Hao. He swallows, cock throbbing in his grip.

“Good girl,” he praises, shifting to line himself up. His other hand steadies himself on Hanbin’s thigh, feeling the muscle flex under his palm. He rubs the tip of his head against Hanbin’s rim, and both of them let out a low groan, Hanbin’s rim fluttering at the touch. 

Wordlessly, he drags Hanbin down, his thighs dropping as Zhang Hao presses up into him at the same time, until Hanbin is seated on him in one fluid motion.

“Ah, ” Hanbin cries out, clenching hard around Zhang Hao’s cock. He’s so warm, like a furnace from the inside out, sucking Zhang Hao in. It feels too damn good, and he can’t take his eyes off of him, at where Hanbin is stretched around him, the pull of his panties off to the side, Hanbin’s grip not faltering once. He lets Hanbin sit there, adjusting, before saying anything.

“Well you got what you wanted, hm? Didn’t you want to ride h— oppa?” Hanbin lets out a strangled breath at that, trying to steady himself on Zhang Hao’s thigh.

But he listens. He drags himself off Zhang Hao’s cock, whining at the loss, before dropping back down when only the head is left inside. Zhang Hao gasps at the movement, and Hanbin clearly takes that as encouragement, repeating the action. It’s not fast, but it doesn’t need to be when it feels sodeep, when Zhang Hao can watch how his hole sucks him back in every time Hanbin drops back down, thighs flexing at the effort. 

He thinks Hanbin’s ass is something that should be revered, honestly, something he tells Hanbin often. And watching it bounce on his cock from this perspective — his life might be altered forever.

“Doing so good,” Hao mumbles out, because he can, and because the encouragement only ever spurs Hanbin on. “Fuck.”

Hanbin leans forward and drops down particularly hard, shifting Zhang Hao’s cock to a new angle, and Hao can feel the moan that runs through his body, like it’s being ripped out of himself. 

“Shit,” Hanbin cries out, voice hoarse, repeating the action again and again, palms slick where they’re brace against Zhang Hao’s thighs. Every movement causes the skirt to flutter over his thighs, hem tickling Zhang Hao’s skin when he fucks back down. He brings his free hand back to grab at Hanbin’s ass, fingers digging into the flesh, immediately blooming red. 

Everything in front of him is so pink, the skirt, the panties, Hanbin. He’s so sensitive, skin blushing so easily. He thumbs at Hanbin’s rim, stretched around his cock, and Hanbin’s whole body jolts. 

“Hyung,” Hanbin moans, voice thin. His thigh trembles under Zhang Hao’s palm. “Can’t—“

And Zhang Hao understands, shushing him. He wraps his hands back around his waist, stopping Hanbin’s movements, the slow grinds he sank into. 

Hanbin whines, upset when Zhang Hao slips his cock out, but he’s quick about it, lifting him up and flipping him onto his back on the bed. He lets Zhang Hao manhandle him into position, until he’s blinking up at him through wet eyes, mascara smudged underneath them, clumping his lashes together.

He’s a mess, thoroughly disheveled. The tie loose around his neck, chest flushed, and cock hard and leaking where it peeks from under his skirt. The panties are a wreck, stretched out and tugged to the side, lace bunched up all around his cock.

“Gorgeous,” Zhang Hao says, almost reverently, words heavy in his mouth as he takes it all in. At least until Hanbin starts whining again and he has no choice but to wrap an arm underneath his thighs, pressing his knees bent back towards his chest so he can line himself back up.

He presses inside in one fluid motion, the slide easy and smooth. They both let out a low gasp at the new angle when he bottoms out, hips connecting with Hanbin’s ass with a soft smack. Hanbin’s own cock lets out a spurt of precome and he stares as the stain bleeds on the skirt.

It’s easy, to lose himself in Hanbin like this, fuck into him again and again, breathy moans and gasps reverberating around the bedroom. Hanbin’s eyes are scrunched shut, lip stain smeared mouth dropped open as he takes it. He’s got one hand tangled in the sheets, the other on the pillow, bracing himself against Zhang Hao’s thrusts. 

Zhang Hao is barely even thinking anymore, lost in the tight feeling of Hanbin clenched around him, the slick slide of his cock against his walls. Bracing himself on one hand, he grabs at the end of Hanbin’s tie, tugging on it just so Hanbin can feel the tension around him, feel where the fabric pulls at his neck. The whine he lets out is loud, strained as he gasps. Zhang Hao grins down at him, feeling unhinged.

“That’s it baby, doing so well,” he gets out, fucking into him harder. Every movement shifts the skirt around his waist and Zhang Hao’s eyes are drawn to it, watching the fabric flow with his thrusts. “Gonna come all over yourself, mess up your pretty skirt and panties? You’re already so wet, a perfect girl for me.”

Zhang Hao can see how Hanbin’s body shakes, feel the way he clenches even tighter around him. He grits his teeth, trying to control himself, needing Hanbin to come first, needing to watch as the orgasm washes over him. Wrapping a hand around his cock, he jerks him off in time with his thrusts, tight just how Hanbin likes it.

“Let go, Hanbin-ah. Be a good girl for your oppa and come.”

He twists his wrist and Hanbin cries out, body tensing up and cock pulsing in his fist as he comes. Zhang Hao doesn’t slow down, fucking him through it as he paints his fist and stains skirt, come dripping down until he’s milked dry, cock jerking one last time in his hand.

Zhang Hao clenches his jaw, pulling his cock out to fist at himself fast and hard, until his orgasm is also crashing over him. Come stripes over Hanbin’s ass, painting his skin and panties a viscose white before he’s sliding back inside, fucking Hanbin shallowly through the final stretches of his orgasm.

Once spent, he all but collapses on Hanbin, surely ruining the skirt even more, come stains smearing against it. They lay there, panting to catch their breath, until Zhang Hao blows a raspberry against Hanbin’s tattoos and he squeaks, affronted.

“Hyuuuung,” Hanbin groans, pathetically trying to push him off.

“What, no more oppa?” Zhang Hao teases, just to make Hanbin blush again and sputter out protests, digging his fingers into Zhang Hao’s sides in retaliation.

“Ya! That’s — you — shut up,” he says, petulant as Zhang Hao just grins back down at him, sneaking in a quick kiss that Hanbin lets happen. He falls back down on the bed, propping himself up on his side.

“Soo,” he starts, twirling the end of Hanbin’s tie around his fingers, just to mess with something. “Are you going to perform Pick Me for me now?”

Hanbin pushes him off the bed.