Archive of Our Own

Yeonjun has always prided himself on being quite the observant one. 

Where most people tend to brush over the most superficial of details, he not only notices, but he also digs for more, not one to ever stop until he gets to the bottom of whatever the issue might be.

It’s always been one of his things— or obsessions as some of his friends like to not quite as flatteringly put it.

At fourteen, he sees right through the large but slightly too stiff smiles of his parents. Through the sweet, but tight-lipped kisses they keep exchanging before him. He can still hear the sharp crack of a plate falling to pieces as he asks his parents if any of them has been cheating on the other ringing in his ears.

At seventeen, it only takes him a few days around his friend Wooyoung’s although so very well-concealed tenseness to realize there’s something he’s hiding from him, something he clearly believes Yeonjun won’t be too happy to hear about. It’s almost a relief when the other boy finally works up the courage to tell him he’s leaving the company, leaving him behind. It’s okay; Yeonjun would rather see him less often, but see him happy.

At twenty-three, he’s been all too aware of Taehyun’s feelings for a certain other member for a good while now, patiently waiting for his dongsaeng to feel comfortable enough to bring it up to his hyung himself. In the end, the boy was probably the only one who firmly believed they were unrequited as it, in fact, didn’t take the most observant individual to tell Huening Kai very, very much felt the same.

So it’s no wonder, really, when Yeonjun is on the brink of turning twenty-six as well as seemingly the only one of his group members determined to find out what the hell has been keeping Beomgyu so on edge lately, snapping at the four of them for the wildest of reasons. 

It’s him getting genuinely upset when any of them teases him about lifting heavier weights than he does at the gym when he’d always laugh along, if not even make fun of them back. It’s him rolling his eyes whenever someone as much as attempts to feed him with their chopsticks when he’d usually not only happily take it, but also thank them in the most obnoxious baby voice possible. It’s him throwing a fit whenever a member cleans after him instead of waiting until he feels like doing it himself when they’d get a never-ending warm hug for it just a few months ago.

What he did today, however, takes the fucking cake. 

Beomgyu had been whining about craving hanwoo beef all week. But when Kai generously came back to the company with a delicious-smelling serving of it from the slightly too expensive restaurant they unfortunately all love down the street, he wasn’t met with the excitement one would have expected from their member. There was no dramatic screaming. No wiping of fake tears. Not even one single sheepish, though appreciative little thank you. Only one ungrateful scorn and a most shocking ‘Do I look like I need you guys to pay for my stuff? Because the last time I checked I get the same salary as you do, if not more with my royalties…’

And because it’s Beomgyu and Beomgyu cannot be mean for the life of him, he’s been profusely apologizing to his heartbroken dongsaeng for the rest of day, but the damage is done, and they’ve been walking on eggshells around him for the rest of the day.

Not Yeonjun, though. Not this time.

That’s how he finds himself sitting on Beomgyu’s comfortable mattress while everyone else is out doing their own little thing after a full day of exhausting schedules after exhausting schedules, the soft glow of his phone screen his only light source as he waits for the other to return.

“What are you doing in my room?”

And there he is. Still as delightful as ever.

“Well, hello to you too,” Yeonjun greets him with a purposely large grin which contrasts with the little dark cloud above Beomgyu’s head, idly pushing his phone to the side.

Beomgyu frowns, clearly not in the mood, though when is he ever nowadays…

“We already spent half of the day together, hyung,” he unkindly reminds him with a curt shake of his head, voice strained with an exhaustion that nearly makes Yeonjun back off.

Nearly. 

“What are you doing in my room?” Beomgyu asks again, somehow gifted with even less patience this time as he realizes Yeonjun is not budging from his bed anytime soon. 

“We need to talk.” 

“No we don’t,” he retorts as soon as Yeonjun’s steady words are out, tugging the door to his bedroom open and waving a frustrated hand towards the empty corridor in a silent, though very telling invitation. “Goodnight.”

Yeonjun smiles up at him, projecting enough patience and kindness for the two of them. He leans back, palms pressed to the mattress, a slow stretch running through his shoulders like he’s got all the time in the world.

Beomgyu is quick to avert his weary eyes.

“Sorry, Beomie. You’re not getting away with it this time.”

‘This time’ because Beomgyu’s already jumped into the first— and most importantly already full— van back home today, when Yeonjun’s had clearly been trying to intercept him after the hanwoo incident.

“Yes, I am,” Beomgyu answers tightly, arm dropping back to his side. He turns around with a sigh, grumpily changing himself into the soft pajama set which is in no way season appropriate but that Yeonjun knows he loves as he keeps going, “Soobin hyung tried the same tactic last week… I thought you’d know that, to be honest. But if not, I’m happy to tell you the exact same thing I’ve told him: I have nothing to talk about. And I’m also very, very tired, so please, can you get out of my room and let me get some rest now, hyung?”

At some point during his rant, Beomgyu has turned back to Yeonjun, and so the latter can see the pleading look on his face a little bit too well, and the way the elder doesn’t jump off of the bed and hurry back to his own room at the very sight has to count as some kind of miracle. 

Beomgyu, too, seems quite taken aback by Yeonjun’s own stubbornness when the latter is usually so very soft with his dongsaengs, always giving in in a matter of seconds. 

His jaw tenses, not too happy with this sudden development.

“I already apologized for the take-out. Multiple times. I don’t know what more you could want from me, but can this please wait tomorrow so I can sleep this fucking day off?” He asks or perhaps even begs, voice so strained Yeonjun fears he’s started crying for a not-so-good second. 

Breath stuck in his throat, the elder’s hands tense over Beomgyu’s cozy comforter, feeling achingly powerless in the face of his friend’s overflowing pain.

“What did he say to you?”

The question takes the other off guard enough that his lovely features finally soften in the faint golden glow of the paper floor lamp he’s just turned on. 

“Soobin?” He asks, frown already forming back in between his dark brows. “Well… he wasn’t as annoying, I’ll tell you this much. He—”

“I’m not talking about Soobinie, Beomgyu-yah,” Yeonjun is quick to interrupt, pausing just long enough for the words to properly hit the other before picking back up. “That boy you’ve been seeing. What did he say to you?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen for a microsecond before he catches himself, but it’s too late. Yeonjun’s already caught the reaction— already knows he’s got it right all along. 

“I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t…” Yeonjun replies, without any of the bite he originally intended when his gaze flicks down to Beomgyu’s right hand, slightly shaky around the tight hold it’s got around his phone. 

“I can tell, you know,” he starts again, voice set much, much softer, as though trying to tame the wild animal Beomgyu’s been very much acting akin to lately. “Every time you’re particularly moody. Every time you snap at one of us for no fucking reason. I didn’t get it at first, but it always seems to fall right after you guys meet, and so it makes me wonder… what does he do to you? And perhaps more importantly, still: why do you keep going back?”

Surprisingly, Yeonjun doesn’t immediately get told off the way he could’ve bet real good money on happening. Beomgyu’s free hand rises to the front of his cute pajama shirt, thumb tracing one of its buttons over and over and over again in what Yeonjun can only guess is an effort to soothe himself as two potential responses currently fight within his heart.

He ends up sighing, pink tongue tracing his molars before he speaks:

“Nothing I can’t handle,” the boy answers, building the small dent Yeonjun has only just managed to make in his thick façade right back up. He makes himself straighten up but still looks just as small in the near emptiness of his room. “I go back to him because I can do whatever the hell I want. And the sex happens to be good. Very good, actually, so…”

Yeonjun tilts his head to the side, deeply contemplative. Despite all of Beomgyu’s bravado, it doesn’t take a genius to see that whenever he turns uncharacteristically prickly, telling off anyone who as much as dares approach him, something a lot heavier is stewing inside that cute little head of his.

At least now the elder has his definite answer: that guy must have been doing something to bother Beomgyu badly enough to sour his mood for the next few days. Every single time they meet. And so now, the real question is, just how bad exactly is it? And the following one might be, do they need to kill him?

He hums, not even bothering to hide his skepticism. There’s not really any point doing so when they both know poorly fabricated lies isn’t what he’s here for tonight.

“See, I don’t doubt the sex is good. But you’re clearly not handling whatever that is well, Beomie…” his breath grows heavier, heart not quite able to handle the idea of anyone hurting one of his members. “I swear if he’s doing anything—”

“Hyung. It’s nothing bad, I swear.” Beomgyu scrambles to interrupt him before Yeonjun’s thoughts can start wandering into dangerous territory. His eyes drift to his own curling toes on the cream, fluffy carpet he’s standing on, and the elder could swear his ears are turning a shade darker. “It’s just… it’s just some dumb shit.”

Oh.

So that’s why Beomgyu has been so unwilling to tell anyone about it. Even his members. Even Yeonjun. Even Soobin.

He’s just been way too embarrassed about it.

Yeonjun lets out a soft exhale, feeling all of the thick tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying in his body slowly easing. He smiles, sweet and understanding, palm gently patting the spot next to him on the bed in silent invitation. 

Beomgyu’s anxiety twists his pouted lips but he drifts closer the next second anyway, soon settling down next to Yeonjun like a grumpy puppy, too busy worrying the soft material of his pajama bottoms to be looking the elder in the eye. 

“It’s not dumb, Beoms. Not if it’s making you feel like this.” His palm shifts to Beomgyu’s hand, carefully covering it in quiet support. “You can’t keep it all to yourself forever. It’s not good for anyone, I’m sure you can see it. Hyung’s not going to judge anyway.” 

“You… Well, you might judge me a little.” Beomgyu’s voice is set much softer now, his walls finally tumbling down before Yeonjun’s very eyes. “And I’d get it, to be honest. It really is dumb, but I don’t know… It makes me very… self-conscious? I guess?”

Yeonjun squeezes his hand in encouragement. “More reasons to talk about it.”

Beomgyu hums weakly, eyes still glued to his dim bedroom floor. He slips his hand free after a few seconds of serious gnawing on the inside of his cheek so he can comfortably curl both arms around the knee he’s just bent on the bed. Yeonjun attentively watches him lean forward, forehead pressed against his thigh before he finally feels safe enough to speak.

“I think… I think it started off as a joke? I don’t know… it sure felt like a joke, at least. But the more he brought it up, the more I could tell it kinda… bothered him? And so it’s not exactly… funny anymore,” he explains, voice as small as he looks in this position. “It fucking sucks actually. Even though I know it’s basically nothing but still…”

It’s quiet for the next few seconds, save the faint ruffling of the soft material of Beomgyu’s pajama pants its owner keeps anxiously fiddling with. Still, Yeonjun waits for Beomgyu to find the strength to keep going.

Except it never comes. 

And Yeonjun is trying— because Beomgyu is clearly trying too, and when he isn’t in the sourest of moods, Beomgyu is one of the best friends someone could ever wish for. A friend who deserves to be treated just as thoughtfully. 

The problem is, Yeonjun has many qualities, but patience isn’t exactly one of them.

“Beomie… you’re aware hyung can’t guess what you’re talking about unless you actually say it, right?” 

Beomgyu nods against his own leg, shoulders slumping even more visibly under the crushing weight of his growing embarrassment. Yeonjun wants to pat his hunched back, to caress the hair he’s much to his chagrin just cut a little bit shorter, but he isn’t certain the touch wouldn’t be more overwhelming than soothing.

“After… after a few times of us hooking up together he called me a, uh— he called me a ‘pillow princess’,” he elaborates, the last term quickly muttered under his breath so he can get it out of the way once and for all. 

From where he is sitting, Yeonjun can see how the mere mention has his ears turning crimson right where one is peeking from his fluffy hair. His hesitation makes sense now, the anecdote could’ve been amusing, he guesses, in any other context that doesn’t include Beomgyu curled up over his own lap, baring his soul to him.

“And, it’s like I was saying, that first time was fine, we had a good laugh about it even, but then… then he kept bringing it up and bringing it up and bringing it up, and… it felt almost… accusatory, you know?” He lets out a shaky sigh, clearly still affected by the hurtful memories. “And I even tried… uh… riding him… last time? But he nearly immediately got me to lie down again, saying I shouldn’t be doing stuff I clearly know nothing about and shit, and… I don’t know it just… it fucking stings, you know? Like, whether I try or not, it’s never good enough almost…”

Yeonjun feels his own head slowly shake at the admission. At the thought of someone being so cruel to his friend in his most vulnerable state. At the thought of his friend letting him.

That guy fucking sucks.

How dare he?

You should tell that asshole to fuck right off and never see him again.

That’s what Yeonjun should be telling Beomgyu right now, as the good hyung that he is. Instead, he goes completely off-script, words forming on his tongue before he can truly register any of them;

“Do you want hyung to show you?”

Beomgyu’s nervous hands freeze on his pant leg, followed by his entire frame. Then, his head slowly rises, turning to Yeonjun with eyes as round as the latter has ever seen on his face.

“What?”

“Not— not like that,” Yeonjun rushes to clarify, clammy palms defensively drawn up between them as his cheeks turn nearly as pink as Beomgyu’s, heart already hammering in his chest. “Obviously, I’m not coming on to you right now. I’m just— I’m just offering to show you what usually feels good. As a friend. With clothes on. But… it’s just… you don’t have to agree to anything of course, it was just in case—” 

“Okay.”

“What?” Yeonjun slowly blinks at Beomgyu as the other straightens up, convinced he’s heard the single, quiet word wrong.

“I said ‘okay’. I want you to show me.”

“Oh.” He breathes out before nodding, trying and failing not to show how he was expecting a totally different response from the other. “Okay. Cool, lemme just…”

He gets up, heart high up in his throat, as though he isn’t the one who offered. And it’s fine. It’s not like they’re about to actually have sex. In fact, they’re barely even going to touch. Yeonjun is just going to show his hurting dongsaeng a few moves that could potentially help him and that dumbass fuck buddy of his out as clinically as possible, and that’s it. No reason to get all stressed out about the way his stupid fucking brain is.

Making his quick way to the other side of the mattress, he settles back down, back pushing into the headrest there before calling Beomgyu over with a smile he hopes appears as natural as possible— looking constipated would be setting up the worst kind of example right now.

Beomgyu trails closer, halting right before reaching Yeonjun’s side, his lingering hesitation clear in his sluggish movements. 

He quietly gulps. “Do you… Am I supposed to like… straddle you right now, or like…”

Somehow, the younger’s awkwardness helps alleviate some of Yeonjun’s own. The elder reaches for his arm, pulling him a little closer.

“Yeah,” he easily confirms, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it is. They cannot possibly be the first couple of friends helping each other out in that way. Things like that just stop being awkward when you’re that close. “Come on. It’s not that weird. We’ve both been on each other's laps before. It’s basically the same thing when you think about it.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows lift, not exactly impressed by Yeonjun’s excuse. 

The latter can almost read it in his eyes, the way he’s dying to tell him just how different this is, actually. Because while they have sat on each other’s lap before— plenty of times in the near decade they’ve known each other— neither of them have ever straddled the other. But some members have. While playing and wrestling. Because it’s not weird.

Beomgyu must be getting to the same conclusion, because he gives him a small nod before carefully pushing himself up, placing a thigh on each side of Yeonjun’s frame, just high enough that only the side of their legs are touching. Not ideal, but the elder won’t comment on it when it makes things easier for him too.

“Okay, so uh… where did you… where did you ride that guy?” 

Yeonjun watches as Beomgyu’s eyebrows rise— a telltale sign that he’s holding in an awkward laugh. Just like clockwork, his lips press together in a cute little ‘v’ shape the very next second, choking on the barely suppressed sound. 

“I mean… at his place? That’s usually where it happens, so…”

Usually. 

Meaning Beomgyu might’ve brought him back to the apartment they all share at some point. 

Meaning this guy’s probably been in the bed Yeonjun is currently sitting in before. Probably fucked his band member into the mattress that’s now lying under Yeonjun’s ass. Maybe even cruelly made fun of him under the very same bedsheets afterwards.

Yeonjun shakes his head, managing to only let the nausea he’s starting to feel seep through in the light furrow of his brows.

“Nah, I meant ‘where’ as in like… what surface were you guys doing all that on?”

This time, Beomgyu doesn’t bother hiding his laughter. “What kind of fucking question is that?”

“Just answer the damn question, Choi Beomgyu. I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t know…” The other starts before sighing softly, hands clenching by his sides. “I mean, I do know... It was on his couch. Since it fucking matters.”

Yeonjun nods, purposely ignoring the last bit. “Okay. So, not the worst place, but if you’re not as used to it, I think maybe something like this— an actual mattress— is better to start with. Not just because you simply have more freedom of movement, so less chances of slipping or having a harder time finding a position that’ll be good for the two of you, but also—” 

Carefully, he reaches for Beomgyu’s hands, one in each one of his. 

“It gives you more options for things you can hold onto… like, if that angle feels better for you, you can do this…” He presses harder against Beomgyu’s palms, guiding them back little by little until the younger’s spine curves, his shoulders nearly level with the bed. Then, he drives the younger’s hands to the mattress behind him, ignoring how little space is left between them and the way he can feel Beomgyu’s shallow breath on his face as he resumes, 

“Or this…” This time, Yeonjun pulls them both upright with a steadier hold, easing Beomgyu’s arms just above his head, palms flat to the wall behind himself. Yet again, the younger boy doesn’t offer any of the protests Yeonjun expected, surprisingly pliant under his guiding touch in a way that feels just as wrong as it feels right— downright messing with Yeonjun’s mind. “Of course you can just hold onto my shoulders too. Or I guess his shoulders. You know what I mean. What— what feels more comfortable for you, Beoms?”

Beomgyu’s pink lips part on a soft inhale. Slowly, his hands drift down to Yeonjun’s shoulders, pressing lightly over the firm muscles he finds there once, twice— as though testing their potential grip. 

“I think— I think here is fine for now.”

Yeonjun nods, hoping Beomgyu cannot feel the way his entire frame slightly tenses under the sudden touch, the skin of his upper body turning unpleasantly warm, but that’s on them for choosing to do this in the middle of summer.

“Perfect. Now, can you… show me how you did it? Last time.”

It feels like a good place to start. Or to keep going. And the idea of the other pushing himself up and down over his lap until he starts getting a little out of breath doesn't make him feel a little bit weird at all.

Beomgyu blinks a few times before sighing, the softest of features hardening in a matter of seconds. “Okay, hyung. What is this? Some kind of humiliation ritual? Because I feel like we’re getting a little bit too old for that kind of prank. Especially someone here.”

Does it feel like a humiliation ritual, Yeonjun nearly asks, but the answer is already written all over Beomgyu’s scarlet face. 

He’s always been one to get easily flustered under his sweet, playful façade, cute ears flushing in absolutely no time, though Yeonjun doesn’t think he’s ever seen him quite like this; with cheeks so very red, he can barely discern the pretty mole he has there.

His heart drops.

Maybe he’s pushed the younger boy too far.

“It’s… not…” Yeonjun slowly exhales. “Listen, Beomie, I just thought it could be helpful, but if it makes you more uncomfortable than anything else, we don’t have to keep going, okay? Say the words and your hyung will be out of your hair in an instant.” 

Beomgyu grows silent over him, gaze unfocused as he most likely ponders Yeonjun’s offer. For a while.

A good while.

The elder is just about to push himself off the mattress when Beomgyu’s mouth opens, though his words are awfully quiet. “No, I—” he clears his throat, hands lightly clenching around Yeonjun’s shoulders as he takes a steadying breath. “I wanna keep going, sorry it’s just— it feels embarrassing as fuck, oh my god.”

His palms find Beomgyu’s strong thighs, rubbing them in what he hopes might feel comforting. “Do you… want hyung to close his eyes? Or— or you should probably be the one to close your eyes, actually… so you can picture that guy instead of me, and all that. Maybe. Wouldn’t— uh wouldn’t want you to get too into it, you know.”

God. 

Why is this so awkward… 

It usually isn’t that awkward.

Beomgyu scoffs, peeling one hand off of Yeonjun to punch him in the meat of his upper arm, but he’s smiling. A little. And the hit barely hurts anyway. 

“No, yeah good call, ‘cause if I look at you for too long I’ll definitely be creaming my pants and it’s totally not your crazy big ego just telling you things.” He pauses in the midst of his own jest to shoot a warning stare at Yeonjun. 

The latter freezes under him, momentally anxious Beomgyu’s just read his mind only to find the mad, unstoppable trail of thoughts which had followed his mindless joke— most of them including the younger boy violently shaking above him, bottom lip trapped under his cute teeth as he comes untouched. 

“Don’t. Don’t make that dick joke. Not when I’m right above it.”

“Wasn’t going to.” Well, now Yeonjun kinda wishes he had. Instead of all… that. Maybe his stomach wouldn’t feel all weird, then.

“Sure,” Beomgyu retorts, playful despite the suspicious tone, and Yeonjun is happy to note he looks a lot more at ease, all bright eyes and loose limbs. “But uhh… about what you were saying I think— I think I’d like it if we could both close our eyes? Maybe?”

Sounds a bit inconvenient if Yeonjun is supposed to be teaching him anything… Unless…

He slides his hands to Beomgyu’s hips, hold gentle and more than a little hesitant. “This okay?” He asks, voice breathier than he meant it as he checks Beomgyu’s face for any hints of discomfort.

There isn’t any. Only just the faintest of hesitations in the tight corners of his lips as he offers a quick nod, “Uh, y-yeah it’s fine… Adds to the realism I guess…”

You could say that. 

It does feel the slightest bit too close to what having a partner just about to ride him would feel like not to make his face feel a little warmer. Except it would definitely not be one of his group members. And they would not be kind of avoiding each other’s gaze. And ideally, they would be wearing way less pieces of clothing.

His eyes trail over the thick material of Beomgyu’s pajamas that will most likely have him overheating in no time, but he’d much rather have him keep them on. Having his bandmate fake-ride him in a t-shirt and some tight boxers would be all good in theory, but the slightest bit awkward when said bandmate’s dick starts bouncing under the flimsy material, and—

“Hey, hyung still has to close his eyes, though…” 

Yeonjun starts lightly. “Oh, sorry, baby— uh… Sorry. I… I’m closing them. I’m closing them.”

He clenches his eyes shut, more so he won’t be able to see Beomgyu’s reaction— or downright judgment to his dumb dumb dumb oh my god why am I so fucking stupid why would I even call him that what the fuck slip-up than to listen to him, but it has the same effect in the end.

Under the grip that Yeonjun’s embarrassment has slightly tightened on his hips, Beomgyu starts moving. 

Slow and tentative at first, with nothing for Yeonjun to focus on but the other’s thighs brushing over his own each time he pushes himself up. His quivering exhale when he comes back down. The lovely perfume he’s had for years clouding the entire room and sticking to Yeonjun’s lungs like the sweetest of honeys.

“Is that— is that what you did to him last time?”

From above, he can hear Beomgyu’s low answering hum. “Yeah… Is it that terrible?”

It’s a question that’s a little bit trickier to answer when the person bouncing over him isn’t actually on his dick and when Yeonjun is also deprived of whatever sight he could’ve used to assess any of his movements. Relying on the few sensations he can make out doesn’t give him much to work with.

And sure, it’s possible Beomgyu might be the slightest bit clumsy with it, but not in any way that would justify pushing him off his lap to downright mocking him. Yeonjun feels his own blood boil through his buzzing vein at the reminder someone else clearly thought differently.

“No,” he breathes softly, head shaking. “I don’t think you’re terrible at all Beomgyu-yah.” 

“B-but I could do better, right? What… what does hyung usually like?”

Yeonjun takes a deep breath, trying not to pause and contemplate just how bizarre telling his dongsaeng how he usually likes his dick to be ridden might be. Beomgyu’s the one who asked, anyway. It’s not Yeonjun’s fault he’s basically the most helpful hyung in the world… 

“What… I like?” He starts by slowly echoing, buying himself some more time to hopefully produce the least awkward string of words possible in this context. “It’s just… I don’t know if that guy will agree, Beoms. Like… from what you’ve been saying, at least, but… I— Well, I personally really like it when I can tell my partner is feeling good, and— and it’s such a good position for it, you know? Because you’ll get to try things out and see what gets you the best reactions from him, but also what will feel the best for you.”

The motion of Beomgyu’s hips grow palpably more hesitant under Yeonjun’s soft grip. It’s not like the other boy has a lot of room to experiment with what anything might feel like for him when he’s still just on top of his fully-clothed coworker, and not the hot guy he’s apparently having amazing, regular sex with.

“Sorry it’s… Hyung’s not being very helpful, is he?” Yeonjun lets out a soft exhale, grateful Beomgyu cannot see the way his awkwardness keeps twisting most of his features before clearing his throat. “I, uh… for example, I really like when my partners lean a little bit closer and like… grind against my stomach during it, and god when their thighs start getting a little weaker, and— and uh… yeah.”

Yeonjun has to stop himself from entirely losing track of his own words there, audibly gulping in the near quiet of the room, because there isn’t really any point in Beomgyu finding out one of his favorite thing about this position is when his partner starts simply feeling too good to keep going on their own, and if Yeonjun is lucky enough, even begging him to help them out until he is trusting up into them, making them cry out in his ear. 

The mere thought has his own stomach clenching, but he doesn’t say a word. This has nothing to do with what Beomgyu asked to be taught about, and Yeonjun seriously needs to keep in mind that this is all for educational purposes. In fact, he doesn’t get why he keeps forgetting this is all for educational purposes, but he can make the effort. No matter how fried his brain feels at the moment. 

“And… if you need something a little bit more precise… It’s always nice to alternate speed and uh… how hard you’re… squeezing— for lack of better fucking words, oh my god… Like, something I’ve found always feels good for both of us is when they roll their hips up, clenching as hard as they can, and then relax and move back down a lot slower, it’s… yeah, I know it’s not really doable as of right now, but—”

At this point, it’s a miracle Yeonjun hasn’t succumbed to the sheer embarrassment that is giving sex advice to a friend he usually doesn’t really talk about sex with, each new sentence he pushes out of his drying throat, a new terrible blow to his tight chest. He’s honestly surprised to find Beomgyu still moving under his sweaty palms.

“No I— I’m trying to, and I— shit, I can definitely see how nice it could be…” Beomgyu quietly assures, slow syllables quaking as his rhythm noticeably changes, positively trapping all the air inside Yeonjun’s windpipe.

Does that mean…

The elder nearly forgets how to breathe, seething brain too hung up on the fact that each time he can feel Beomgyu’s tense thighs rub against his on his careful way up, there’s a high fucking chance the other boy is also clenching around nothing, just as previously instructed. Except said instruction had been meant for future lessons where Yeonjun would not be the one teaching, nor would he be the one right below the clenching hole in question.

But no, that’d be insane. And Beomgyu would never do that. Not with Yeonjun centimeters away from him.

Yeah, he probably misunderstood. And Beomgyu meant something else. But then how come his breathing has suddenly become so much heavier…

Yeonjun’s curiosity gets the better of him.

When one of his eyes open to take a brief peek at his friend’s face, he doesn't know what to expect, but it’s certainly not this—

Beomgyu’s lips are just as flushed as the rest of him, lightly dented from fresh bite marks Yeonjun assumes might come from an effort to keep quiet. The strands of dark hair that aren’t already plastered to his sweaty forehead are bouncing around his face, making Yeonjun terribly miss their longer style for an instant. But most importantly, his eyes aren’t closed at all. 

They are set right onto Yeonjun’s face. Watching.

The younger boy’s movements falter the moment their gazes meet, ass fully falling onto Yeonjun’s lap.

“Hyung! You— you have to keep your eyes closed! You said you would!”

“Well, your eyes were wide open!” He counters behind an offended pout, because it’s true. 

Though, he wouldn’t say they were ‘wide open’; more like half-lidded in a please, please, please fuck me look that Yeonjun is still very much suffering the consequences of witnessing, unexpected heat curling low, low, low in his guts with the intent of staying.

In its wake, he remains perfectly still, not too eager to find out how his body might react to any type of friction in this state. Maybe it’s Yeonjun’s sign to follow into Beomgyu’s steps and quickly look for someone to have regular hook-ups with too, because he’s clearly been neglecting that part of his life with how intense his solo schedules have gotten these past few months if his own bandmate’s pretty eyes now have his blood running south that fast.

“But—” Beomgyu sighs, the sound near petulant. Unfortunately, not enough so to not have Yeonjun tensing the slightest bit under his weight when the other boy starts nervously shifting on his lap. “But I should be allowed to keep mine open if I want to! I need to see what I’m doing since I’m supposed to be learning, here, aren’t I?”

One of Yeonjun’s eyebrows lifts, not too convinced by the younger boy’s logic when all there really is to see from this angle is Yeonjun himself, and his static posture couldn’t exactly be called helpful. Although, he might be missing something crucial here; it’s not like he can read Beomgyu’s thoughts.

It sure doesn’t stop him from raising his chin up and replying, “Yeah. And I’m supposed to be able to tell if you’re following my instructions well enough if you wanna get any better. Something I can’t really do with my eyes closed the entire time, you know.”

He doesn’t know why he’s getting so defensive all of a sudden. It’s not like he even cared if he could see or not just a few seconds ago, no matter how inconvenient, but the other’s own prickly answer lodged itself right under his burning skin.

“Okay,” Beomgyu says under a bitter exhale, his grip sharpening on Yeonjun’s shoulders as he pushes himself back up. “Take a good fucking look then, Yeonjun seonsaeng-nim.”

This time, when he draws back down, Beomgyu doesn’t bother keeping the distance they’d wordlessly agreed on, ass slowly grinding back onto Yeonjun’s lap, just faintly enough that the elder believes it to be accidental. The next time it happens however, cannot be anything but deliberate, the motion too precise, too controlled, too insistent.

Yeonjun’s palms fly to his ass as soon as Beomgyu drives himself up again, grabbing hard enough that the other won’t get a chance to keep up whatever dangerous game he’s suddenly decided to start playing. Not that it does much to keep his cock from starting to chub up in his shorts anyway— the sharp gasp the sudden touch elicits from the other seemingly too enticing to ignore.

Yeah, it’s definitely been way, way too long for Yeonjun.

He’s just about to do the wisest thing possible in this situation, and snatch his hands back to himself— as if burnt, though it sure feels just like he well and truly was— maybe even push the younger boy away, when Beomgyu beats him to it, leaning even further into his space.

“I wanna know what position hyung was talking about when he was talking about grinding at the same time… Is it like that?” Beomgyu asks in a tone so close to innocent curiosity Yeonjun can already feel the flames that await him in hell licking at his clammy back for not being entirely turned off by it. Though he believes his partial absolution might be warranted when the younger’s interrogation is also accompanied by a tentative arch of his back, ass pushing lightly into Yeonjun’s hands— because how else is he supposed to react, then?

The knowledge that somewhere, someday some guy has had this very same Beomgyu sitting snug on his dick and decided to kill his spirit instead of fully enjoying it is getting more unfathomable by the second.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun confirms, barely recognizing his own voice. He uses his hold on Beomgyu to push him up slightly higher, until his pelvis is barely brushing against the elder’s clothed abdomen. “Something like that… Something that’d make you move a little forward when you go up, and then a little backwards when you go back down so you can take more of him.”

Beomgyu slowly nods, and he must be picturing what it’d be like with that stupid hook-up of his in his head because his eyes flutter shut with a sharp exhale, hips carefully following his hyung’s instructions as they gently cant up towards his tense stomach before rolling back down onto his lap. Except the second part isn’t gentle at all, and the firm pressure of Beomgyu’s ass makes Yeonjun’s own hips buck up, apparently not quite ready to let go of the dizzying warmth so soon. 

Yeonjun tenses as soon as he realizes what just happened, the apple of his cheeks burning so bright he would fear permanent damage were he not facing a much more pressing matter. 

“Shit, Beomie I’m sorry I—” He shakes his head, panic rising fast under his blazing skin as he realizes just how strenuous not chasing after the delicious pressure is now that he’s got a taste of it.

Thankfully, Beomgyu doesn’t seem to notice the heights of his inner struggles, only just kindly shaking his head at the hasty apology. 

“No, it’s— It’s okay… Means I’m doing a good job, right, hyung?” He asks, lovely voice lit up by a devastatingly soft hope. And god he’s already moving again, not even pretending to be avoiding Yeonjun’s nearly fully hard cock this time, an actual whimper bubbling up inside his throat when he doesn’t get an immediate answer. “Please, please tell me I’m doing good…”

Oh— that guy truly did a number on him.

Yeonjun would like to say his sweet dongsaeng’s serious desperation for approval is making his heart ache more than his cock, but it’s a little bit tricky with the maddening way his perky little ass also keeps rubbing and rubbing and rubbing against it.

So he gives Beomgyu what he wants so badly. And maybe a little bit more than just that. 

“Look at you… Doing such a great job, Beomgyu-yah…” he observes, syllables perhaps coming out the slightest bit breathy when his own hips start meeting up the youngest’s slow motions to better illustrate his words. “Riding hyung so good.”

For better or worse, Yeonjun doesn’t even get to pause and wonder if he’s done too much. If he’s gone too far.

And maybe he has. But it doesn’t really matter when the bold words were directed at Beomgyu, and Beomgyu’s currently humping his stomach like his life depends on it, and— yeah, his dongsaeng is definitely hard as well, dick fully filled out under his cute little fluffy pajama pants.

“Fuck.” Beomgyu’s hips falter a second later, hands sliding down to Yeonjun’s chest to push his upper body in a tighter arch. His head tips towards the ceiling, breaths spilling out in soft, wrecked sounds that melt the rest of Yeonjun’s brain down to nothing. “Hyung, I can’t breathe. I can’t—”

Yeonjun perfectly gets the feeling. 

His lungs also seem to be failing as he takes in Beomgyu’s trembling form— reddened lips parted around breaths that are only getting more shallow by the second, sheen layer of sweat sticking to every last visible patch of smooth skin.

“It’s alright, Beoms. You’re alright,” Yeonjun softly shushes the other boy when his panic only appears to grow higher. 

He brings a most gentle hand to Beomgyu’s face, pushing some of the damp strands away from his pretty eyes before letting it trail to the collar of his thick pajama shirt. 

“How would you feel about hyung helping you out of those? So you can breathe a little better, yeah?” He softly inquires, honestly surprised Beomgyu’s survived this long with this warm of an outfit on while rubbing all over his bandmate in the middle of summer. Poor thing must be close to a heatstroke. 

Unless he’s kept them all on for a very good reason. 

Unless Yeonjun truly is pushing him way too far when he didn’t ask. 

“O-or we can stop if you want. I mean, you’ve already learnt a lot tonight. I think you’ll do just—“

“No!” One of Beomgyu’s hands catches his before he can even think about moving away, skin burning hotter than Yeonjun’s ever felt it. He drags in a breath, eyes flicking to the chaos they’ve already made of the sheets as the shock of his own reaction sinks through the haze. “I just… I wanna keep going. Want hyung to teach me more, and— and it makes sense anyway, right? It’s not like I’d be wearing much if I were to do this so it’s best if I get used to the feeling…”

The feeling.

As though Beomgyu’s never been naked in front of anyone else before. As though they do not both know for a fact that it is far from the truth. As though they weren’t just discussing the younger boy’s latest sexcapades with possibly the worst fucking lay on earth.

Deep down, Yeonjun knows he’s being played. Just a little bit. 

Too bad he loves a good game. And apparently, so does the erection still sadly trapped in his sweats, aching harder at the ridiculous innocent act like Yeonjun could ever ignore it in the first place.

“Yeah… good call…” he utters, keeping his tone even, every word pressed into calm as he slowly undoes each of the large buttons on Beomgyu’s shirt. 

He’s met with inches and inches of warm skin he’s seen hundreds of times before but that never quite had this effect on him before— eyes quick to cross over a delicate dusty nipple he never gave a single second thought to but now has him unconsciously wetting his lips, lids drooping the slightest bit at the burning thought of curling his tongue around the small nub and sucking.

Beomgyu must notice. His body answers for him, torso tilting in a faint arch towards the elder’s wet mouth, like his charged gaze has grown a gravity of its own, and—

Shit.

Yeonjun takes a deep breath in a fruitless effort to bring some oxygen back to a brain that’s clearly gone into overdrive if it’s begun to consider latching onto his bandmate’s chest normal. No matter the context.

For all of their members’ sakes, he forces himself to put some healthy distance between Beomgyu and him with the handy excuse of fully helping the other boy out of his overly-warm shirt, his thoughts clearer now that he cannot see his friend’s cute little nipples in such high definition, nor smell his sweet citrusy perfume so intensely. 

Too bad Beomgyu is already pushing himself up on his knees, stretching to carefully pull his pajama bottoms down his legs one by one. 

Too bad, because he now gets a perfect view of what was until then hidden under them, Beomgyu’s legs spread just wide enough over his lap not to leave much to the imagination in this state.

Yeonjun nearly chokes on his own spit.

“I’ve never seen a guy get that wet from this,” he lets out with a slightly dazed smile when what he truly meant to say was oh my fucking god oh my fucking god oh my fucking god oh my fucking god.

Beomgyu’s reaction is immediate, his entire bare frame tensing over Yeonjun. Which would’ve been concerning if the latter couldn’t have sworn that the obvious damp spot at the front of his pearl white boxers hadn’t just spread wider at the breathy words.

He likes this. The talking. The teasing. Perhaps even the fact that it’s all coming from Yeonjun, though the latter knows it’s probably just his own very horny ego talking. His hands clench by his sides, dying to know what sound he could tear out of the other would his finger lightly trace the blunt cock head he can make out through the translucid material of his underwear.

“How is that even fair?” Beomgyu asks before Yeonjun can do something very stupid like moan at his own mad fantasies. He attempts to close his long legs a little bit tighter despite being blocked by the elder’s pelvis, the movement only working to steal a visible shiver out of him when it makes his cock drag over the coolness of his boxers. When Yeonjun finally looks up, the other boy’s reddened lips are pushed into a little pout. “Why am I the only one stripping?”

“‘Cause your hyung isn’t on his way to a sure death by overheating, maybe?”

“But—” Beomgyu’s wide eyes twitch, pout intensifying and not cooing at the sight is harder than one might think. “He probably wouldn’t be wearing a shirt either by now. I— I just can’t get in the right mindset if you’re gonna be wearing your old tour tee the entire time…”

But I’m not him. 

I’m not him and this is all fake.

On any other day, one when Yeonjun’s brain would’ve been properly supplied with all the necessary blood, he would have laughed it off, called it a day and shut things down long before they could ruin something as infinitely precious as their friendship. Today, however…

Today, Yeonjun’s hand is already at the collar of his own shirt, tugging hard enough that the smooth fabric slides off his skin and over his head before he discards it to Beomgyu’s floor in one fluid movement.

Beomgyu’s warm palms are on his chest before he’s even finished shaking off the mess of dark gray strands the action left in his eyes. Curious fingertips map the defined muscles there— tracing, feeling, pressing— before drifting lower, lingering on the lines of Yeonjun’s abs. As he does so, there’s a glint in his dark eyes, something startlingly close to awe.

“I know…” He murmurs before pausing, and Yeonjun doesn’t think he imagines the small gulp that follows. “I know you’ve been working out a lot for the album but… I hadn’t realized it did… so much, like your abs are…” Beomgyu doesn’t bother finishing his sentence, too busy brushing over the clear lines of Yeonjun’s stomach over and over and over again.

Pride curls warm and immediate in Yeonjun’s chest at the unmistakable appreciation in Beomgyu’s voice, his touch, his stare. He flexes as much as he can from his seated position, giving him more to play with.

Beomgyu looks downright hypnotized, pretty eyes lit up so brightly Yeonjun might have wondered if this was his dongsaeng’s first time seeing abs in real life if he didn’t already know Taehyun’s had some insane ones that he’s never been shy to show off for years now. Maybe it’s something about the context being different. Maybe he’s never gotten to feel some while sitting in his ruined underwear.

Yeonjun can barely breathe, not too proud of how much effort not asking Beomgyu if the guy that fucks him on the regular has abs like his. If he looks as good as Yeonjun does when Beomgyu’s straddling him.

To distract himself from his most burning thoughts, he places his hands back to the lovely swell of Beomgyu’s ass, pushing the other boy a little closer until the sticky front of his boxers is nearly brushing against the muscles he seems to love so much.

“Come on, you gotta keep moving, Beomgyu-yah. Or else hyung will have to bring you to the gym next time so we can work on that stamina of yours…”

As expected, Beomgyu immediately takes the bait.

His hands find their way back to Yeonjun’s solid chest, steadying himself so he can properly rub up on him in a way that wouldn’t quite work if he actually had a cock inside him, though Yeonjun doesn’t comment on it. He’s a little bit more focused on the snail trail Beomgyu’s leaving on his skin with every new twitch of his hips. On the way it would almost make him forget about the gender of the person not-so-dry-humping him had the press against his stomach not had so much weight to it.

Under a breath which got heavier the second Beomgyu started moving again— only proving Yeonjun’s point— the younger boy scoffs, clearly replaying his hyung’s low taunt in his mind. “Like you wouldn’t have already come if I really had been bouncing on it that entire time…”

Well.

Fuck.

Maybe.

And maybe Yeonjun will soon anyway if his dongsaeng keeps talking about actually bouncing on his dick.

If Beomgyu somehow wasn’t able to feel Yeonjun’s stomach suddenly tense against him, there is absolutely no way he could ever miss the elder’s grip tightening on his ass, gaze uncontrollably glazing at the words. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this horny in his life. Not even when he hit puberty and couldn’t keep his damn right hand out of his tight pants at night. Not even when he got his first serious girlfriend and she smelled nearly as sweet as Beomgyu does. Only just now, from the maddening thought of being buried deep inside one of his best friends.

Biting down a desperate moan, he gives into his own instincts and lets himself rut up against the addictive warmth that presses onto him each time Beomgyu slides back down with a weak little breath. And, lost in the searing pleasure curling into his stomach, his hold slips— just a little bit. But also just enough for his fingers to brush against a much more dangerous spot than the safe meat of Beomgyu’s ass they’ve been nicely holding onto so far.

Truthfully, he doesn’t register the slight change in his daze, and probably never would have, had Beomgyu not been so quick to let out a startled little yelp at the feeling.

The alarmed sound blows some of the fog that’s been infiltrating Yeonjun’s mind away, his eyes immediately searching for Beomgyu’s own to profess a nervous apology which never gets to see the light of day in the end. Not when he doesn’t find any of the discomfort that kind of noise made him expect on the other’s soft features.

Sure, Beomgyu’s stopped moving above him, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable in the slightest— pearly teeth pressed into the lovely pink swell of his lips, flushed bare chest expanding around a deeper breath. Holding Yeonjun’s stunned gaze, his thighs start spreading wider in what is clearly meant as a silent invitation the elder cannot quite decipher until Beomgyu lets out a frustrated little huff, ass pushing harder against his fingers. 

“Hyung. Do it again.”

Do what again? Yeonjun nearly asks, only to finally realize what his fingertips just grazed over Beomgyu’s underwear the moment his lips part. With the precious missing information now recovered, the reminder of the other’s needy reaction has him grateful he’s been asked to take off his own shirt too or else the material might’ve melted off his scorching skin.

Holding his breath at the mere knowledge of what he’s about to do like he’s some sort of blushing fucking virgin, two of Yeonjun’s fingers slide back to the place they’d accidentally touched, their press tentative, yet firm. Beomgyu immediately hums low in approval, quick to drop the innocent act now that his hyung’s fingers are insistently tracing the tight hole hiding under his thin underwear. Not that Yeonjun’s complaining.

Although… they do quickly run into a problem Yeonjun wouldn’t have ever expected to encounter in his cute dongsaeng’s bedroom. 

Beomgyu is loud.

And Yeonjun didn’t exactly have the mind to keep an ear out in case he’d make out their other members coming back from whatever place they all disappeared to. For all they know right now, all three of their bandmates could pass beside Beomgyu’s door and hear the breathy little moans streaming from his permanently open lips. The ones which are only getting louder by the damn second. 

Higher too. Much higher and brittle than Yeonjun would’ve ever expected from Beomgyu’s usually so very rich tone, and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t making his dick absolutely fucking ache under him, burning to know just how high they can get.

Though… maybe not right where all of their friends can hear it— the mortification alone outweighing his terrible horniness by a whisker. 

Being the responsible one fucking sucks.

“Beomie. Beomie,” he calls, voice particularly gentle when Beomgyu technically hasn't done anything wrong, here. “Hey, let’s— let’s keep it down, yeah? So the others don’t hear you?”

In response, Beomgyu offers him a few tight nods, thick eyebrows knitting in a focus that is broken the moment Yeonjun’s finger starts curiously tugging on his rim over the smooth material of his boxers, bitten-red lips forced open around an uncontrolled mewl as his eyes flutter shut. 

The hand that isn’t still playing with his entrance pushes over his slack mouth the second the shrill noise bursts out, muffling the worst of his next, sharp moan. A good-enough solution. If it didn’t also clearly piss Beomgyu off— dark, dark eyes opening back up to shoot Yeonjun a peevish glare that speaks a thousand whined words. 

And really, considering whose mouth he had just chosen to press his precious hand against, Yeonjun should’ve more than expected what happens next: Beomgyu absolutely slobbering all over his taunt palm like the little menace that he tends to be. It takes a grand total of two seconds for Yeonjun’s patience and self-control to run out.

With a sigh that is half mild exasperation, half unadulterated want, he yanks his hand away from the other’s drooling mouth to take a firm grip of his slick chin instead, pulling him close enough for them to breathe the same sultry air.

Fuck it.

Yeonjun tilts his own head up, licking at the mess of saliva left under Beomgyu’s bottom lip before he can think any better of it, eating up the weak little gasp it earns him like a starved man. 

“I said. Keep. It. Down,” he reminds the other in a voice that is tense more from the unbearable ache in his pants than any real annoyance. And then his lips are on the other’s mouth that shines like a ruby, kissing him. 

Properly kissing him.

Not a quick peck to the lip after they’ve had one too many beers in their dorm and decided to start playing Truth or Dare for some semblance of normalcy. And not exactly the sort of kiss an elder might offer their inexperienced dongsaeng to guide them, either. It’s way too eager, way too urgent, way too hungry to be anything that doesn’t feel a little bit too raw for them to keep making up any excuses. 

It’s slick tongues pushing against each other the second Beomgyu’s lips happily open— dying to feel, dying to taste. It’s Beomgyu’s greedy, greedy hips going back to their heavy grind, and Yeonjun’s fingers keeping their slow, slow teasing circles over the thin material of his boxers while they suck on each other’s swollen lips like they might meet the most terrible of deaths if they ever dare stop.

It’s also not in any way anything that actually works to quiet Beomgyu, whose sounds not only remain just as loud as ever, but are also growing steadily more frequent. 

And sure— like that, they’re somewhat muffled, gladly swallowed down by Yeonjun’s curious, curious lips as they smack against Beomgyu’s own over and over and over and over again. But while they might not be detectable to an inattentive passerby in their long corridor, they burn hot in Yeonjun’s ears, making the elder feel dizzier than an intense work-out on an empty stomach would. 

Though, not dizzy enough for him not to quickly realize that as soon as this is all over and Yeonjun ineluctably trails back to the heavy silence of his own room, Beomgyu could end up making these same pretty, pretty noise for someone else at any given time. Someone who does not deserve a single fragment of them.

Yeonjun’s blood boils at the sole idea of it: Beomgyu— sweet, sweet, sweet Beomgyu— desperately bouncing over the lap of a man who’s done nothing but hurt him at any given chances. Beomgyu all hot, rosy cheeks and high, breathy sounds for someone who wouldn’t even know how to start appreciating it.

No— Yeonjun has to make sure that doesn’t happen again. Has to make sure it never happens again.

A second later and he is tearing his lips away from Beomgyu’s, the dreamlike vision of the other’s slick, swollen lips, and sex-tousled hair only adding fuel to the fire in his burning heart. 

In a daze, he watches as Beomgyu’s eyes wink open, frown forming fast on his flushed face as he lets out a long unhappy whine when the new kiss he tries to steal from Yeonjun’s tingling lips is immediately denied, making the elder’s cock twitch at the pitiful little sound. And shit—

“Let hyung fuck you, Beomgyu-yah,” Yeonjun brokenly pleads, hips instinctively thrusting up at his own words, the friction only working to make him more desperate to feel more, to fuck Beomgyu so good he’ll never even consider going to anyone else for dick— let alone that asshole of a guy. “God please let me fuck you for real. I need to actually feel you. Need you to actually feel me.”

Beomgyu’s wide eyes rapidly blink at him, breath visibly stuck in the long column of his throat as his hyung’s sudden request has him sputtering until he can finally find his own words, cheeks darker than Yeonjun’s ever seen them. 

“Is this… is this still part of the lesson?”

“I don’t know,” Yeonjun whispers in response, not certain Beomgyu isn’t fucking with him right now, but he hasn’t been kicked out of the other boy’s bed yet, so there’s that. “It can be, but I’m not gonna lie to you… it’s mostly because I really wanna be inside you right now, fuck.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath for his dongsaeng’s sake before opening them back up, hand stroking Beomgyu’s hip in a way he hopes comforting. “Only— only if you want it too, Beomie, I— hyung will be fine otherwise, okay?”

That’s highly debatable when every fiber of Yeonjun’s being is currently letting him know he will actually perrish if he doesn’t get to fuck this boy anytime soon, but that’s just the kind of sacrifice he’s willing to make for him.

He doesn't think he imagines the small tug at the corner of Beomgyu’s lips as the other’s warm hands find his, fingers absently playing with the thin bracelet on his wrist. “I don’t think I would be, though. Fine, that is. I really wanna feel you too right now, ever since earlier I— I can’t stop picturing it, Yeonjun hyung, I—” to Yeonjun’s disappointment, Beomgyu trails off, seemingly unwilling to reveal words the elder is all but dying to hear. “Fuck, what should I do?”

He… can work with that, however.

“Turn around.”

“Huh?” Beomgyu stares at him in confusion, pretty eyes turning owlish.

Yeonjun has the most burning urge to kiss the cute expression off of him— and so he does, pressing a small peck to the corner of the boy’s lips.

“Turn around,” he gently instructs again, now only inches away from the other’s face. His free hand taps twice against the side of Beomgyu’s ass in an added silent cue. “We gotta prep that cute little ass if you wanna be able to take dick.”

That gets Beomgyu finally moving. And fast.

One second his pretty lips part around a breathy gasp, and the next one he is already sinking back onto the bed, catching himself with arms held taut against the mattress. In one smooth motion, he swings a long leg over Yeonjun’s body before shifting his weight to the side, quickly pivoting until he is facing away from the elder as he settles back above him, leaning forward in a slow, deliberate push like the little tease he’s very quickly become.

“Like that…?” he asks, batting his long eyelashes in the same act of faux innocence he used earlier but that is a lot less effective when he’s ass up in the air, back arched as far as it’ll go. Or very effective, depending on what you ask— Yeonjun’s brain or Yeonjun’s dick.

“Yeah… Just like that…” The elder answers, rendered nearly useless by the beyond dizzying sight. 

He reaches for it with both palms, kneading the soft flesh he finds there before he can help it, only slightly embarrassed that the feeling makes him moan louder than Beomgyu. 

“Can I?” His buzzing fingertips are already hooking under the tight elastic of Beomgyu’s boxers, waiting until he catches the other’s instant nod, the small eager hum that follows. He can’t help but smile at the way Beomgyu impatiently pushes into his hands when he takes more than a single second to finally peel the underwear off his burning skin, leaving them tight under the cute cheeks he’s just revealed.

Biting into his tender bottom lip, Yeonjun doesn't waste any time pulling one to the side, making both of their breaths hitch for quite different reasons— while it’s most likely the bedroom’s sultry air hitting his entrance for Beomgyu, it’s the way it looks that entirely numbs Yeonjun’s mind, all puffy from how much he’s been playing with it over the boy’s underwear.

“D’you think we can use how wet you got for hyung to open you up, Beomgyu-yah?”

Deep down, the more reasonable part of Yeonjun’s brain knows it’s most likely not the brightest of ideas, but it doesn’t matter when the lust clouding most of his thoughts fucking loves it. And so does Beomgyu it seems, moaning softly at the mere suggestion.

It’s no real surprise, then, when his free hand rises to the front of Beomgyu’s bent body, sliding down the pleasant softness of his stomach to wrap around his hard cock, not expecting it to feel even hotter than the other’s near feverish body in his palm. His wrist flicks a few times, just to hear his dongsaeng’s voice break again, before letting two of his fingers find his sticky tip to collect what he needs in one slow but insistent swipe that has Beomgyu whimpering, pretty thighs visibly tensing.

Nearly the same sound is pulled out of the other once he’s spread the pearly pre-cum all over the soft pink of his hole, only to start playing with the fluttering rim instead of sliding in the way Beomgyu’s clearly asking him to do in any way he can. And while it turns out teasing his dongsaeng in bed is just as fun as it is in any other setting, Yeonjun is growing just as impatient— or at least the nagging ache under his pants is.

His slick finger pushes in, a bit easier than he’d been expecting it to with how insanely tight Beomgyu had looked a second ago. Though, it very much feels tight too— hot walls already clenching around the two first knuckles of his pointer finger, and fuck. Turns out, Yeonjun definitely isn’t patient enough to test out his own theory and open up Beomgyu with his own abundant pre-cum, because as hot as it sounds, actually fucking into the brain-melting heat trying its best to suck his finger the rest of the way in sounds a lot more tempting as of right now.

Maybe next time. If he can convince Beomgyu there should ever be one, but he’s working on it.

“Where’s your lube? I’m assuming you own some?” If you’ve brought the motherfucker here before, Yeonjun barely avoids adding, not too eager to bring him up when it’s his own finger that’s currently sitting snug inside Beomgyu.

“Between the mattress and the wall,” Beomgyu replies in a hurried breath which betrays his own eagerness.

Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow the other cannot see, but doesn’t comment. Not when his dongsaeng’s bold storage choices are turning more than handy, the fingers of his left hand only having to feel around the small gap for just about a second before bumping into a small container. It’s half-empty, making him wonder just how often Beomgyu tries to muffle his own little sounds from them at night.

The realization sends his head spinning, leaving him with nothing but the unbearable heat in his body and the baffling question of why the hell they’ve never done this before.

After that, it’s not just his instincts but Beomgyu’s as well which guide them, both trying to find ways to accelerate the process as much as possible until he has Beomgyu pretty much fucking himself back onto all three of his crooked fingers, clearly wishing for much, much more according to the near little sobs bubbling up his throat with every new roll of his hips back.

Yeonjun takes a hold of Beomgyu’s hip with his free hand, pulling him as close to his crotch as he can with three of his fingers still stuck deep inside him, his own pelvis twitching forward at the exhilarating thought of getting his dongsaeng to bounce on his dick just as desperately. 

“Gonna take hyung this good, Beomgyu-yah?”

Beomgyu crooks his neck back, looking at him through visibly damp lashes. “Wanna find out?”

His fingers unceremoniously pull out at the question because he does, he really, really does, hands nearly shaking with his overwhelming want where they both grip Beomgyu’s bony hips.

“You’re not gonna… turn… back around…?”

Beomgyu’s fists tense around the light grip he’s got on his bedsheets. “I mean… that works just fine too, doesn’t it? I guess that’ll teach me another way to do it, too, I don’t know…”

His shiny hole keeps slowly winking at him and the view is far from unpleasant, but something about it tugs wrong at Yeonjun’s heart.

“But… wouldn’t he want it the other way?” Wouldn’t he want to look at your pretty face while you fall apart?

Beomgyu’s answering scoff is hollow, morphing back into the small, insecure version of him Yeonjun had briefly witnessed earlier as he was twisted over his own lap at the side of his bed. 

“He wouldn’t care about that. So it’s whatever, really.”

That simply won’t do it.

Yeonjun’s grip shifts to Beomgyu’s lithe waist, tightening just enough for him to pull him up and spin him around with far more ease than he expected. Good to know working out this much had more perks than just Beomgyu all but drooling over his looks.

“I care,” he murmurs in explanation when Beomgyu’s wide eyes stare at him in a mixture of both shock and confusion.

The other boy’s lips are on his the second the delicate words register, arm wrapped around Yeonjun’s nape to bring him as close as possible as he attempts to suck his soul out of his mouth while the latter more than happily lets him, palms finding their ways back to the bottom of his ass and squeezing. 

It must remind him of why they’re back into this position— he just as quickly draws away, breathless, but with newfound purpose, warm hands traveling all the way to the hem of Yeonjun’s blue shorts and not pausing before sliding underneath.

His palm immediately meets the head of his hard cock, making the two of them take a sharp inhale, before Beomgyu lets out a boyish, breathy laugh. 

“D’you always go around commando, you fucking heathen? I would’ve expected that kind of behavior from Soobin, not you…” He asks playfully, and Yeonjun is just about to complain about the fact that they’re bringing up way too many other guys to his taste when he catches Beomgyu’s mocking smile dropping as soon as he pushes the shorts past his crotch. A shameless moan escapes him as he needily shifts on Yeonjun’s lap, his own cock drooling. “Would’ve so sucked you off I didn’t want you inside me so bad right now.”

It’s a wonder Yeonjun is still alive and somewhat well right now. In fact he’d believe his heart had given out once and for all if his cock wasn’t also throbbing this hard on his own stomach, not doing much to quell the hunger from the younger boy’s gaze.

“Why?” He asks, helping Beomgyu just a little bit higher so he can hover right over what his eyes couldn’t look away from. “Do you need lessons for that too?”

“No, I just want to,” Beomgyu simply answers, pressing a hand to the hard plane of his chest as the other one takes him into his guiding grip, making him softly gasp. “Unless the student teacher thing is really doing it for you, seonsaeng-nim…”

Yeonjun lets out a soft groan the second his cock brushes against the other’s wet entrance, barely containing the nagging urge to grip onto Beomgyu’s ass harder and thrust in as deep as he can go. Maybe he does like that little tutoring roleplay thing a little bit too much. Or maybe he just wants to fuck his dongsaeng silly. Either way, there’s a question that has to be discussed first.

“Wait you— uh… you usually take him raw?” 

Beomgyu lightly shakes his head. “Never. He asks every time but he hasn’t done the tests yet, so no fucking way. But I know we all did recently, and I know I want you to so… if you don’t mind…” He pushes down as soon as he catches Yeonjun’s tight nod, and the latter doesn’t know what’s better: the impossible heat squeezing him in or the just as burning knowledge that he is possibly the only one to have ever felt Beomgyu this way. 

Yeonjun doesn’t bother swallowing down the broken moan it pulls out of him. Not that Beomgyu truly registers it anyway, too busy focusing on slowly taking more and more of him, a faint frown forming in between his dark eyebrows as he bites at his crimson lips, probably regretting how impatient they’ve both been during his overly hasty preparation.

It’s one of the perks of this position however— letting Beomgyu pick up his own pace as long as Yeonjun grants it. 

“Take your time, Beomie,” he quietly says despite his own body’s most pressing instincts, quick to notice the way his dongsaeng’s pale thighs have begun to lightly shake from the effort. His hands trace slow patterns up the other’s soft skin, an attempt to soothe the both of them when he remembers the way Beomgyu had shamelessly begged for praises earlier. “You’re doing so, so good. Just a little bit more and you’ll be all done, do you think you can do this for hyung, baby?”

This tears an instant whimper out of Beomgyu, but he uses all of the strength he has left to drive himself down the rest of the way, sitting snug on Yeonjun’s lap, dick fully stuck inside of him in the most dizzying way possible.

“Hyung,” he whines, already shaking all over, and fuck, Yeonjun is about to come embarrassingly fast. Not that Beomgyu is doing any better, clearly.

“Come here,” Yeonjun manages to sigh through the thick fog in his brain, pulling the other tight onto his chest. “You remember what hyung said earlier, yeah? About the grinding on his stomach while you move? So we can both feel really, really good?” 

Beomgyu nods weakly, his long arms wrapping around him as he lets his head fall over his shoulder, breath audibly shuddering with every tight rock of his hips. 

And, okay— Yeonjun can see the issue now. 

Or rather, what could be an issue for some, yet only works to make his own body grow hotter, still. Beomgyu happens to be utterly useless with a cock inside him, barely able to move past the needy grind of his ass back, just enough to have Yeonjun’s cock dragging over his prostate, his own length rubbing against the elder’s abs through the boxers still pulled taut over it. He doesn’t even have the mind to close his mouth, saliva pooling down his chin and onto the burning skin of Yeonjun’s shoulder every time he lets out a debauched sound, which is every other second, really.

“Do you… do you need some help, baby? Want hyung to take over?”

Unfortunately, Beomgyu seems to misinterpret the question, letting out a pitiful little sound as he makes the terrible effort of properly rolling his hips once, twice, before whining again, falling limp above Yeonjun despite the maddening vice of his ass around him.

“Sorry— I’m sorry I can’t… I can’t do it anymore.”

Yeonjun’s heart throbs at the distress staining the words Beomgyu pushes out in between quiet hiccups. He forces his sweet dongsaeng to come out of the little refuge he’s made for himself between the cooler hard wall and Yeonjun’s shoulder blade, thumb swiping away the wetness he finds on his scarlet cheeks, but leaving the mess all over his chin. For reasons.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Do you…?” Beomgyu’s voice is shrunk by his own anxieties, nothing he should ever feel in this type of scenario. Maybe they will actually have to kill the guy who made him feel like this, after all.

“I… think you can tell just how much hyung wants it still, Beomgyu-yah…” He remains as hard as he can be, pulsing nearly painfully inside the other but he’s just about ready to call it a night if that’s what Beomgyu wishes, as much as he’s hoping that isn’t the case. “But it doesn’t matter if you’re uncomfortable, you know? It’s only fun for me if it’s fun for you too, although… my offer still very much stands, I really, really don’t mind helping you out, okay?”

“Okay,” Beomgyu gives him a little nod, sniffling softly. “I— yeah, I want hyung to help… Please.”

“Yeah? You want hyung to start fucking into you?” Yeonjun asks— just to make sure. Just to be able to rut his hips up and witness the utter pleasure blooming all over the other’s precious face. 

Beomgyu moans around a few wider nods, unconsciously clenching around him, before repeating his soft, soft plea.

“Good boy,” Yeonjun whispers before pressing a sweet peck to his slick lips, hands tightening around the most supple part of Beomgyu’s ass in a way that very much might leave marks later as he finally, finally drives his hips up, relishing in the immediate sharp gasp it grants him.

He lets the back of his head fall onto the wall behind him, trying his best to keep his own eyes open despite the overwhelming pleasure, not willing to miss a single second of the blissed expression on his pretty, pretty bandmate’s face now that they’re both getting what they needed the most as Yeonjun fucks into him with an abandon that shows just how close they both already are to falling over the edge.

As though on cue, he feels warmth spread over his stomach just a few thrusts in later as Beomgyu spills into the sticky fabric of his own boxers with a strangled noise they’ll both get absolutely grilled for next morning if even a single one of their members is currently in their dorm. Yeonjun isn’t much better either— the view and feeling making his head spin, his movements growing as desperate as they are clumsy, barely able to hear Beomgyu’s soft sounds under his ragged breath.

“Can I— Can hyung finish inside, Beomgyu-yah? Please I’m so—” He can’t even finish his own train of thought, too busy letting out hot moans after hot moans onto the other’s feverish skin.

And really, he cannot be blamed when Beomgyu’s soft, soft chanting of ‘want you to, want you to, want you to’ marks the end for him, hips bucking up one last time before filling up the trembling boy above him with a long string of creative curses.

They’re still both trying to catch their heavy breaths when Yeonjun comes to, heartbeat picking right back up at the reminder of how this all started. How he hopes, perhaps too foolishly, that he won’t ever see Beomgyu doubt himself again, and more selfishly, that he will however get to see and hear what he sounds like on the brink of his own climax again.

“So, uhm…” He clears his throat, awkwardness sticking to his every word anyway. “Personally I don’t… mind pillow princesses, by the way. I think it’s super hot too, actually, if you ever wanna… maybe… uh—”

He’s interrupted by Beomgyu’s soft laughter, by the tender hand he brings to his burning face.

“Yes, I’d like to do this again, too, hyung.”