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Changkyun’s hands are small but his fingers are firm, and that’s what Hoseok likes.
That’s how they end up pressed up on each other in a cramped closet down the hall. Yards away from the rest of the members. Not close enough to be heard but close enough.
All because Hoseok wouldn’t stop staring - at the gentle protrusion of veins underneath Changkyun’s skin, how slender his fingers looked as they ran across his opisthenar whenever he wasn’t focusing.
Guilt weighs down on his shoulders when he is caught, but Changkyun is perceptive. The younger smiles from across the room, from behind Jooheon’s back - knows what he wants. They share a heated stare; the darkness of Changkyun’s eyes grows darker and a simmering rises from the depths of his gut.
“Kyun,” he whines weakly, tilting his head back as the boy laps at his neck. Changkyun hums. Hoseok’s fingers tremble on his shoulders. “...don’t have time for this.”
Which is true.
Technically Hoseok is in the bathroom, giving him about seven minutes of freedom. But the concert looms in the distance, so any time spent outside the practice room is time wasted.
Changkyun’s hands are small but his fingers are firm, and that’s what Hoseok likes. He likes to experience danger firsthand, loves the possibility that accompanies pain and pleasure. It’s such a risky game, but it’s so rewarding.
The janitor’s closet is a wildly inappropriate place to get intimate, but they ran out of time the minute Hoseok left, and people are gonna come looking soon - so it has to be here.
It’s so hot, and they’re sweaty and tired, and Hoseok’s breath is rough as he huffs, needy. Changkyun’s fingers twitch around his hips. He presses his lips around a patch of skin and sucks hard. “ Changkyun.”
The younger boy unlatches with a disappointed sigh, then reaches a hand up to cup his jaw.
When they meet eyes there is nothing short of heat and desire boiling in Hoseok’s blood. He swallows hard but his mouth feels so dry, worse than sandpaper.
Dark eyes flick between his eyes and his lips, inching closer almost deliberately. The older groans. Any other day he would cherish the boy’s caution, but today is not the day. He leans in, crashing their lips together, and the grip on his chin tightens.
This is always how it happens. They kiss, letting passion prepare Hoseok while Changkyun snakes fingers up his body. And when Hoseok pulls away gasping for air, he’ll let his head fall back against the wall behind him, baring his neck.
It doesn’t matter who initiates, Hoseok is far more experienced. He drags his tongue across the seam of the Changkyun’s lips, humming in satisfaction when his mouth falls open. He licks back into Hoseok’s mouth, biting and sucking hungrily as his hands smooth up his chest quickly.
Changkyun’s hands are small but his fingers are firm, and that’s what Hoseok likes. He likes to feel the burn in his lungs when his trachea is compromised. It’s what gets adrenaline pumping through his veins, rushing so quickly it sends him reeling in a matter of seconds.
He shouldn’t want it and he knows that, but - it’s the way Changkyun holds him. It’s what Hoseok longs for in the night, when no one’s looking and he just wants to be held down, with eyes and with hands.
Air grows sparse between them, too little of it to distribute equally. Hoseok can feel the burn behind his eyes and in his nose, the burn that tells him he needs to breathe.
Just before he runs out of air, he pulls away with a feeble moan, his nails digging into Changkyun’s shoulders. He tips his head back, as he always does, and tries to catch his breath.
There’s a brief pause, wherein Changkyun steadies his hands at the base of Hoseok’s neck and watches breath filter through him. He can barely make out the curve his neck through the darkness.
Something shifts in the air, an unmistakable frenzy rising, and when Hoseok’s hips stutter - Changkyun knows.
He caresses the sides of his neck gently, thumbing his Adam’s apple. When Hoseok inhales, heavy and audible, Changkyun flattens his palm across his windpipe and squeezes.
Ninety seconds is the limit.
No more, preferably less.
Hoseok’s never reached it - Changkyun won’t even let him try.
No protests come from the original pressure. Changkyun digs his fingers a little deeper, listening to Hoseok’s body for any signs of resistance. He tries to press in increments of five, but never does it more than three times.
Hoseok claims he can take a lot of pain - “You can do it harder, Kyun, I want you to do it harder” - but Changkyun refuses to believe him. Two years of knowing each other has warranted a lot of knowing, and Changkyun would bet good money that Hoseok’s emotional sensitivity translates directly to that of his physical.
One two three four five
Blunt nails dig grapple at his body, attempting to find purchase anywhere. It amazes Hoseok how aware of everything he becomes when he can’t breathe. The metal of a broomstick digging into the space between his shoulder blades. The thickness of Changkyun’s breaths. How cool the pads of his fingers feel despite how much heat rolls off of him.
Fifteen, sixteen. Seventeen, eighteen.
Twenty seconds in and his vision is swimming.
Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four.
Hoseok flutters his eyes closed and sinks into paradise, where he floats through wave after wave of colorful stars burning bright in a white ocean.
Forty. Forty-one.
Everything erupt in flames at forty-seven; his skin, his lungs, his blood. He writhes in Changkyun’s grasp when the first seed of ecstasy buds in his core. It settles in his belly, blooming in tandem with his angry heartbeat.
Changkyun crowds him even further into the wall, pressing so hard that Hoseok can feel the pulse of his arousal. His mouth rips open with the abrupt weight of the boy’s body seemingly crushing him. The pressure builds behind his eyes and in the back of his head.
Sixty.
- a supernova explodes behind his eyelids.
Without a hand restricting his airways, he would cry out.
Instead he heaves against Changkyun’s hand, clawing at his throat as the paralyzing rush of adrenaline and heat and euphoria claws at his spine. He feels it everywhere, from the tingles at the crown of his head all the way down to the curl of his toes.
Changkyun breaks away a half-second later, cupping Hoseok’s cheeks instead and thrusting forward to capture his lip. His heart thunders in his ribcage as their tongues lock and their breaths exchange. Hoseok’s chest heaves against his. He takes in his air by the gulps. Fights the dizziness and drowns in the arousal.
“Breathe,” the younger commands when Hoseok stops gasping all of a sudden. Sometimes he’ll root himself so deep in the rush that he forgets he has a body to take care of. “Breathe.” His voice, ever so calm, grounds him.
Hoseok sucks in air through his nose, inhaling on Changkyun’s every exhale.
“Okay?”
After a moment of silence and breathing, the dizziness subsides and he blinks his eyes open and hums. He can’t see the maknae, but he can feel him throbbing wildly underneath the fabric of his sweatpants.
“Can I - ” he starts, shifting his knee, then stops when he feels the younger’s excitement growing thicker. The question he is - was - about to ask has him too embarrassed to continue.
But Changkyun is perceptive.
“Yes,” is all he says, but yes is all Hoseok needs to drop to his knees. They don’t have time for this, but Changkyun was gracious enough to supply him with his fix so this is the best he can do - for now.
Wasting no time, Hoseok hooks two fingers under his waist and drags his pants down. His dick bounces out of its restraints, pre-come already beading in the slit. He laps at it experimentally, then brings his lips around the crown.
This isn’t always how it happens.
Sometimes Changkyun will hold him down and let him go, and that’ll be end of it. Other times Hoseok will touch him, too, after all is said and done. And since Changkyun’s affinity isn’t with being choked but rather having his dick touched, Hoseok caters to him willingly.
It’s rushed and rough with Hoseok relying on spit alone, but he sucks Changkyun as hard as he can. He wants him to taste the gratitude on his tongue, even if he knows he’ll thank him a million times later, when they do it again.
Changkyun bites back groans, weaving fingers through his blond locks, battling his hips as they threaten to jerk forward.
They don’t have time for this. But Hoseok’s mouth is wet and warm, and that’s what Changkyun likes. He also likes when Hoseok gets sloppy, starts making little pleased noises in the back of his throat.
The older licks down the shaft, flattening his tongue on the underside, gripping at the base - all while humming in pleasure. Changkyun’s hips twitch, and then the muscles in his thighs are jumping. Hoseok allows himself to smirk as he swirls his tongue around the shaft.
“Hyung,” he grunts weakly, then lets go altogether. Hoseok pumps him as he comes, in thick stripes, onto his tongue. With Changkyun milked dry he rises to his feet, adjusts his clothes, and wipes at the come clinging to the corner of his lips.
The rest of it he swallows. After a silence, probably after tasting himself on Hoseok’s lips, Changkyun seems to realize. “Did you - ”
Hoseok smiles, sighing out a “yeah,” and Changkyun pecks his lips one more time, grateful.
After that Hoseok clears his throat and straightens. He cracks the door open and peeks out, then slips out calmly. Changkyun follows not long after, looking over his shoulder as he bumps into the older.
“Wish I could’ve seen you,” he murmurs softly and Hoseok almost trips. His cheeks dust a gentle hue of pink. Whether it’s from the heat of the closet or the heat of his own bodily reactions, he will never know.
“Maybe you can,” he replies gently, fingers teasing his forearm.
Just before they reach the door to the practice room, before Hoseok shifts back into Wonho and Changkyun into I.M, the maknae smirks at him and promises, “Later.”