Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Donghyuck loved his members, that included Mark. And it went without saying that everyone knew just how much he adored him, particularly. It was never something that he tried to hide. It was too clear, much like how the sun sat in the sky, and people walked the world. Everyone knew it, knew he looked to Mark first in every room, poked him hard to tease and taunt because sparking a reaction was all he could seem to focus on. To hug the older boy from behind and to press the apples of his palms hard against the other’s stomach, holding Mark to him, it was a quirk of his that everyone had come to accept about Donghyuck. Or when Donghyuck was unable to stop his own teasing, as he goaded Mark wickedly, all just so he could see how easily a shy smile would fumble onto Mark’s expression. Perfect, brilliant, little Marky. He wanted to tug his ears and pinch his cheeks. He was too easily perfect. He knew the rest of Dream never minded, knew that they had all come to not even blink at the way the two of them acted (more so how Donghyuck acted). It was all rather predictable to them. Donghyuck was unable to help making a fuss over Mark, treating him like he hung the moon and stars. And Mark, who snorted and hid behind his hands but looked his way regardless.

Everyone knew there was a real and true deep-rooted affection.

Chenle thought it was all hilarious, always shoving his phone under Donghyuck’s nose. His face all catty and amused as if he was waiting for the other to get flustered and mad. “The fans love you two,” Chenle would drawl, cackling between every breath. “They think you’re in love.” And he said that last part like it was meant to get under his skin, as if Donghyuck should shoot it down immediately.

Everyone knew.

Donghyuck was forcing a grin when the next time it was brought up by Jeno and Jaemin, they had a tablet propped up in front of the rest of the members. They’re scrolling through some fan’s compilation of Mark and Donghyuck interactions. The rest of Dream is in disarray. Howling with laughter, slapping their chests like it will return them more breath to lose. Occasionally, Jeno throws him a glance, a rude smirk on his expression, like he knows how much he’s getting away with. Renjun patted his shoulder sympathetically, but even he could not hide the gleam in his eyes. Renjun’s eyes had gone straight past him, to easily trapped on Mark. Because the only person who loves to see Mark this flustered nearly as much as Donghyuck was Renjun.

“Oh, look at this one—‘Mark protecting his baby Haechan,’ aw!” Jaemin could barely finish quoting the fan’s line, snorting as his fingers rushed forward to scroll some more. It was always like that, with Dream, with the fans. Mark seemed to them to have taken the domineering, leading role in their imagined relationship. Donghyuck fought from furrowing his brows.

“Taeyong says it's bad to look at this stuff,” Mark mumbled as he chewed his bottom lip. Donghyuck tried to find his gaze, but Mark would not meet him halfway. “Yo, it’s like weird.”

Perhaps the others would have bought it if Mark had not also spent all morning teasing members with their own humiliating fan videos. Specifically, some rather peculiar videos of Jaemin. But now, Mark looked truly flustered. All red-cheeked with a high-pitched voice. His fingers were constantly toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Aw. Markie—” Jisung said as he leaned over to pat the other’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, none of us will take your Haechan from you.” Mark blinked too many times for it not to mean something.

But there it was again. And all Donghyuck could do was laugh. To force a sound that was all too airy and comfortable, something familiar for everyone to hook into. Knew it was a charming sound that was pinching Mark’s skin until it was ridden with goosebumps. He caught the immediate tension that zapped into the other’s shoulders, and could see the thoughts behind his tense expression. Donghyuck could barely look away from him, his gaze tracing the column of his throat as it tightened around a nervous swallow. His poor Mark. Humiliated, but still somehow, everyone thought he was anything more than the pretty boy who should be crying underneath Donghyuck. Maybe the fans could not see it, and the members seemingly outright would not sit it. But Donghyuck knew. Knew it as he narrowed his eyes and let his foot tap a steady but painful beat to the floor.

He hated this part. Hated how everyone had come to some odd consensus that his Mark would have this upper hand. It almost made him feel bad; could they not see how much more the other deserved? That if anyone was going to be with Mark, then they had to treat him to what he deserved. Even Mark knew it; that was why he shivered and burned whenever Donghyuck’s hands grazed him too long. He was aching to be spoilt, to be ruined. The air conditioner hummed a low and freezing buzz, and Donghyuck wondered just how much more of this he could take. His members' laughter filled the room. Mark Lee was close to burying his face in shame. He thinks Mark might know that Donghyuck knew exactly what was bothering him, knows that his skin burns like this because if Donghyuck were to really pursue him as the compilation implied, it wouldn’t be how they all thought.

No.

They all think Mark to be some charismatic, handsome idiot who could have Donghyuck however he wanted.

Annoyance spiked. Rich and fitful, and Donghyuck could not even tell what was on the tablet anymore.

If anyone opened their eyes, then they would see the truth.

Mark was shuffling in his passenger seat. “Yo, that food was so good, Hyuck,” he said, talking so quickly that Donghyuck almost wanted to reach over to pinch his thigh and tell him to slow down. But he never did that, just let Mark’s voice wash against him sweetly. Donghyuck has his hands on the wheel, occasionally throwing sparing glances at the others. “You always pick the best food.”

He hums. A noncommittal soundbite. It’s been only a few days since Mark could not even look him in the eye, and everything seems to have subsided. Mark seems to have forgotten that Donghyuck caught his every expression – knew exactly what it all meant.

“That’s why Hyung should listen to me more,” Donghyuck chided, watching the way the few trees on the sidelines of the street disappeared into the start of the true city. He had taken them rather far out, but he supposed that it could not be helped. It was one of the few days off that they both had shared, and he wanted Mark to do something a little more exciting with him.

Mark attempted a laugh. Donghyuck didn’t have to look over to know that he would have that rosy dust colouring to his cheeks, or that he was probably shaking his hair stupidly in the way he always did when he was all nervous and jittery. Donghyuck knew it made Mark act like a fool when he called him hyung.

“I do listen.” Mark sounded so perfectly whiny, voice nearly all breathless. He could still hear him shuffling, could hear him tugging on the seatbelt – desperate for his hands to do something.

“I know, I know,” Donghyuck said, reaching over to pat the other’s thigh. He could hear the hiss of breath drawn in. He ran his fingers down until they were at the other’s knee, he pressed the pads of his fingers down before he whipped his hand away. Like he had done too much, almost like he knew Mark was shivering in that spot. “Marky—” he crooned, the tease easier on his teeth than to admit what they both knew. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up, dude,” Mark choked out.

Cute, Mark was really so cute.

“Markie and Haechanie on a date,” he said in that perfect sing-song tone, the hand that was not on the wheel lifted to do exaggerated quotation marks. “Oh, what would the fans think?”

“Dude, shut up!” Mark hissed, but it was barely mean. His voice had risen, though.

Donghyuck fought to roll his eyes, settling instead with a satisfied smile. Mark had not even remembered to say not to call it a date; he was too busy getting twisted over the fantasised relationship everyone seemed to have for them.

Donghyuck’s tongue slid across his teeth. A slimy hotness rolled down his skin. A relationship they should have anyway, regardless of what everyone else wanted it to look like.

“Ah, don’t be so shrill, my poor ears,” Donghyuck settled on saying instead, and curiously, he tossed another glance at Mark.

Mark, who had pushed himself against the farthest side he could manage in the passenger seat, with his knees knocked against the door and his arms folded, looked perfectly sulky. Lips rolled in a pout, and ears a blazing mean red. “That’s so like, you know, stupid.” He caught the way that brown eyes slipped over and met his own. Mark’s red face sparked a surprised look before he twisted to look out the window. “The fans, and the members,” he added hastily, “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Donghyuck wanted to argue otherwise, that he knew exactly what he was talking about. That Mark was only this frustrated and jumpy because he would rather let all his wants drown him than ever entertain the sparking heat between them. “Markie,” Donghyuck continued to chastise, breaking slightly as he scowled at a car that hastily pulled in front of them. “My ears. You’re always whining.”

Mark huffed. “Don’t act like you don’t see it.”

“See what?”

There was the quiet sound of Mark’s nails dragging hard against the fabric of his jacket. Holding himself like a child. “We’re not like… that.”

Donghyuck felt suddenly and unbearably hot all over, like a sweat might start at his brow, and he had to adjust his grip on the wheel. Mark meant like a couple, probably, but it sounded like him acknowledging how backwards everyone had their dynamic. It caused a riveting drum in his chest. A callous burn to his throat.

“What are we like then?” Donghyuck tried, sweetly if not for the tension in his cheeks. “Markie.”

But Mark could not make a sound, perhaps not even if he tried. But reluctantly, he pushed out of the way he had wound himself up in the corner of the passenger seat. His fingers outstretched as they began to meddle methodically with the volume controls. Donghyuck risked him a sparing glance and found the all too predictable look of him, thin-lipped and bothered. His adam’s apple bobbed, and his cheekbones were more prominent as he seemed to bite down on a breath that he could not quite release.

“Your music sucks, it’s so boring, dude,” Mark grumbled. Mark was usually the nicer of the two of them; it had always been Donghyuck to make the sharper teases and jabs. And by the looks of it, the older boy barely meant it. He had blinked rapidly, perhaps out of the flustered glossiness of his eyes. And he barely seemed to be actually listening to any of the songs that came on, based on the erratic pattern of hitting skip every time he seemed to sit with his thoughts for too long.

“Says the one who limits their taste in music to anything that sounds like it was baked in a teenager’s garage,” Donghyuck replied, fingers tapping the wheel to a made-up beat since the music was running a more disastrous course. “Not my fault that you don’t have the patience for classics.”

“That’s not true, I do,” Mark muttered, but he fell for the bait and finally pulled away, letting whatever song they landed on play. He was surely less coiled up than he had been, but he was still looking rather stiff.

Donghyuck should just reach over and take his hand, run his thumb over his knuckles and tease him over how stricken he had just acted. But Mark was forever a little impossible to seal with. He asked for patience, patience that he had been giving him for years. Mark wanted to be this perfect idol, be the perfectly reliable guy. Donghyuck could see it, how hard it was for the other to digest his interest in Donghyuck. But Donghyuck knew.

Knew it because no one knew Mark as well as he did.

He knew Mark was aching for Donghyuck to ruin him and put him back together again.

The Dream members were spending their weekend in back-to-back fan signs, and Donghyuck tried not let the weariness of a previous late-night dancing session show in his expression or the stiffness of his knees. This, of course, was the easier bit, the belly of the event. The moment where the members walked around and helplessly adorned accessories, picked up props, and tried their absolute best not look scorned when a staff member plucked something off of them. Today, Mark woke up on the right side of the bed and no longer struggled to meet his eyes. Although he continued to be ruthlessly nonchalant in front of the fans. Typical Markie.

At some point, Jisung had shuffled over, snorting with his hands hidden behind his back. He was nudging Mark gently with his shoulder, which brought a ripple of the sound of cameras shuttering. Stealing every angle of the little duo. He pushed him closer to Donghyuck before he revealed his hands. Two headbands, he must have gone and fished out himself. A couple’s set, presumably.

“You’ll put it on, won’t you?” Jisung grinned, and he swore Chenle’s expression tightened with the shine of glee he took in the moment.

“Yo, what?” Mark half-laughed, shoulders tight with tension. The foundation on his face did a good job of hiding the red glow, but Donghyuck could still see the way his ears were brighter than the rest of him. The way his eyebrows pulled, and his face pinched and relaxed. It was like a show, one scene falling into the next. He could see it in the amusement of the other members, in the brash way that Mark looked ready to deny them outright. But he could not. Everyone was watching, everyone was waiting, everyone was wanting. And Donghyuck could see it, could might as well smell it – the way that Mark looked so terribly like a wet cat. As if he had downturned sharp ears and a flickering tail. But then Jisung pushed the headband into Mark’s hand, and Donghyuck caught it. His shoulders dropped.

Mark was relieved.

Mark wanted this.

Donghyuck stepped towards them, easily snatching up the leftover headband with rather lazy care. He snorted and shook his head, and could hear the cackling of fans closer to the front.

“Ah, seriously?” he whined, and it was like that, that Donghyuck made the subtle shifts into the idol Haechan. “Do you guys really find this cute?” There was a wailing rise in the sounds of the fans, and even better, he heard Mark laugh. A short burst of sound straight from his stomach. And Donghyuck could not help but twist to look at him. That pout was replaced with a shaking smile, eyes glittering like Donghyuck was saying exactly what he was thinking. Because he could.

 It was rabbit ears, grey and fuzzy and unbearably soft. Seemed more like a gift for a child or for someone on a date to a carnival, but Donghyuck put it on. He could see now, as Mark sheepishly put his own on, that he had fox ears. Ah. It was like that one movie. And here Mark was probably rather satisfied to have the male character’s ears rather than the girl’s one. He was rather particular like that.

Still, Donghyuck called for him with sickening sweetness, and his pretty Mark shuffled into his space. Their arms pressed together, their heads leaning in, and they gave their sculpted photo-ready looks to the sea of fans and their cameras. Even as a wave of flashlight hit them both (had they really not banned that yet?), Donghyuck and Mark kept it together. Eyes peeled open and unflinching to the burn of white light. Though he could see how Mark shuffled on his feet and just knew in that very moment – that Mark was categorising each and every way this moment could go. Slowly, Donghyuck felt an arm shrug around his shoulders, fingertips cautiously comfortable against him. Mark’s other hand threw up a backwards peace sign. Donghyuck snorted immediately.

Mark still wanted to look cool, still wanted the fans to want this, but he just had to be the one leading it.

Donghyuck watched a few fans scramble to lean forward, cameras and phones knocking against each other. He could hear the hiss of Chenle’s amusement behind them. Could hear Jeno whine that no one was appreciating his own cute outfit.

And just as soon, Mark tore away, like it was not already too late for Donghyuck to feel the heat that radiated off of him. He snatched off those fox ears, and Donghyuck felt his mouth twitch. A shame. They were so cute. They softened Mark perfectly, gave him the jagged sweetness that so many of the others struggled to see. A true fox. Jumpy and unkempt, but not untouchable, not untameable. Not to Donghyuck at least.

There was a tap to his shoulder, a hum of sound that dragged away his attention. It was Renjun, suddenly grinning cattish and shy. He gestured to his head; he had his own headband. “We’re matching,” he whispered, all soft and breathy in that charming way that had always won him so much praise. And matching they were, Renjun had adorned his own rabbit ears, albeit his were white and far thicker – with soft pink lining in the middle.

He immediately reached out to touch it, pinching the white fluff between his thumb and his forefinger. There was a howl of a cheer from a fanboy, something that made the both of them crack from practised smiles into something larger and genuine. He soon pulled away after stretching out the moment for all the fans to get their photos, then he adjusted, slipped perfectly into the side of Renjun. He snaked his arm around, palm flat against the other’s back until it trailed its way into the homely spot of the man’s waist. He tugged him in, and so perfectly understanding, Renjun dropped his head in close. Until his dyed head of hair brushed against Donghyuck’s cheek.

The cameras drank in the moment with unrivalled greed. Their shutters of sound like a violent clatter of teeth to naked bones that had already stolen all of the meat. But still, even with their pretty show…

“We never get as many as you and Mark,” Renjun whispered, leaning his head in and lifting a hand to hide his lips. It was true, an unchallengeable fact. Like how water eroded the earth to forge its path. There was something undeniable and captivating in the energy he had with Mark, something that no one would miss. Except for maybe Mark himself.

His head snapped to the side, a laugh bubbling hard out of his throat, still, he could tell that Renjun’s own grin had stretched wider.

But then he saw Mark.

Mark, with his hands still clutching the headband hard. Two tight fists with knuckles that were embarrassingly white. And he was staring straight at the spot where Donghyuck’s hand was pressed against Renjun’s side. It was jealousy. Spilled all through the cracks of his mask, cracks that only Donghyuck could see, could trace. Saw how green his skin glowed in the knowingness he had for the other. It was almost amusing how horribly obvious it all felt. Mark was jealous, as if he had not just ripped himself away from Donghyuck’s side. But that was not quite it—Donghyuck thumbed playfully against Renjun’s shirt. Rolled a caught piece of the satin between his digits. Mark looked a storm. Ghostly, with a shadow swarming his expression. Mark wanted Renjun’s spot.

He didn’t want to have his arm slung around Donghyuck like he had chosen to do. No. He wanted Donghyuck holding him in place, teasing his skin easily through his shirt in front of all these people.

Mark looked like all his wants would come spilling out of him any moment now. Instead, he swallowed thickly and tore his eyes from them. Petulantly handing the fox ears back to a staff member.’

In the van on the way back, Mark still looked particularly sulky. Jeno and Chenle were pestering the manager and the driver in the front seat, making a plea to have them dropped off at their favourite restaurant since they technically had downtime. Jaemin had his earphones in and seemed to be already drifting to sleep, his eye makeup a little smudged but still rather pretty in the low lighting. Jisung was nose close to his phone, rapidly switching screens between messaging someone and playing one of those dumb mobile games. Renjun seemed to be shuffling closer to Jeno and Chenle, murmuring that he’d pester the manager too if Chenle paid for dinner.

Donghyuck had Mark cornered in the back. And he was licking up every second he got where he could stare at that stormy expression. Mark had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and every time he looked up at Donghyuck’s curious expression, he would merely blink hard and pretend he had not met his gaze at all.

“Mark—” Donghyuck drawled, voice a thick whisper that landed exactly where he wanted to.

There was a sharp, shy glance to him, a noncommittal hum of sound. Bare and rough acknowledgement. He wondered if Mark had clenched his hands into nervous fists in his pockets, or if instead, he was pinching hard at the fabric.

“Markie, you look down,” he pushed, loving the way provocation tasted on his lips. Like dried blood on his teeth. “Did something happen?” His voice was perfectly indifferent and worried all at the same time.

“No, I just…” Mark shrugged unhelpfully. His makeup glistened with the shine that it had begun to melt off. Perhaps a warping fusion of the sweat his flustered skin had endured, and the stuffiness of Donghyuck cornering him.

“Manager-nim said yes!” Chenle cheered, leaning back to shake Jaemin’s knees. “We’re going to park and get food! All of us, yeah?”

Jaemin startled, an earplug falling out of his ear, but he offered a wary grin and a thumbs-up.

Renjun looked back, tossing a once-over to Jisung, who nodded slowly before he suddenly glanced to Donghyuck with a bored smile.

Mark’s fidgeting worsened. “Just tired, I was just tired,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

“Ah, is that it? Aw, Minhyung, poor you,” Donghyuck said, loving the way Mark flinched as his neck and cheeks scorched themselves all pink and obvious. He put his hand down on the other’s thigh, felt the muscle tighten as he patted it warmly. His other reached up, and he rested his knuckles against the hot skin. “You’re so warm.”

“—Not well, ‘m not well,” Mark lied. Lips quivering, but he could not seem to find it in him to shrug off the touch.

Donghyuck looked back at Renjun. “Ah, I think Mark needs to rest, he’s not well.”

“Hyuck—”

He didn’t let Mark’s complaint come to fruition.

“He looks feverish; he gets sick, and it’ll throw us all off,” Donghyuck said. "You guys go ahead, and I’ll take Mark back.”

There was a chorus of disappointed sounds, but the manager nodded solemnly. Soon, the van pulled over, and the members and managers disappeared outwards. Jaemin reached back to clap Mark’s shoulder and promised him that he’d buy him snacks.

The door rolled shut. Donghyuck called out to the driver, “My apartment. Just drop us home.”

Mark looked like he was going to say something, but Donghyuck tapped his jaw, and it seemed to stifle out any response.

Mark lingered in the hallway, thumbing the long sleeves of his shirt right after he had toed his way into the slippers Donghyuck had kept specifically for him. He must have licked his lips nervously a dozen or so times, as Donghyuck could not miss the glossy shine they couldn’t seem to shake. He beckoned him inwards, and slowly the older of the two entered the living space, all sheepish and prickly.

“You should have gone to dinner,” Mark murmured, giving a long glance at the light switch. Donghyuck made no move to switch it on. The dimming orange glow of the sun that spilled through the cut of the blinds was more than enough. Especially the way it shattered against the other, how it drowned him in a couple of spilling lines of amber. Bent on the sharpness of his cheekbones and the cut of his jaw. “I could have gone home.” It came out in a whisper. All scratchy and quiet.

Because Mark was supposed to be unwell. Not tangled and fidgety with jealousy and suppressed urges.

“Go have a shower, hm, we can watch a movie after.” It was a simple instruction, but it was so sickingly satisfying to watch Mark follow. As he ducked his head and scratched the hot spot on the back of his neck. Donghyuck followed him lazily, disappearing only to pluck out a change of clothes and a towel before he pushed them and Mark into the guest bathroom.

In the end, when they were both showered and changed, Donghyuck made a loud sound of approval when Mark came in wearing Donghyuck’s black shirt and sweats. Still messing with a towel around his damp hair. And he smelled like Donghyuck’s place too, like he should, like it was natural for the scents that Donghyuck picked out to cling to him.

“Hey, you,” Donghyuck called easily, a hot run of his blood as he looked the other over. “Feeling better?” He patted the spot on the couch next to him. Mark came but was stiffly sat at the end, hands holding onto his knees nervously, looking a gentle breeze away from slipping off the couch.

“Hey, yeah,” he swallowed, “Much.” And for the most part, he really did look it. Wet strands of hair stuck to his face in a way that was stupidly sweet and made Donghyuck feel almost ill with the desire to trace them. And he looked too comfortable, too at ease, in his clothes, like he was always meant to wear them. He could have grabbed Mark’s own shirt; he had one lying around that the other had forgotten after a hangout turned sleepover with the 127 guys. Mark was just so… Mark. He had the stance of a frightened kitten, the way he licked his lips nervously, and his fingers trembled ever so slightly.

“Let’s watch something then,” Donghyuck murmured, leaning back and stretching his arms out wide on the couch. “The remote—it’s on the coffee table… probably.”

Donghyuck let his eyes flicker to the screen as if waiting for it to bear itself with its familiar white glow, and that low drum of the sound system building with it. But it never came. There was just a serene swirl of nothingness, and he lifted a brow. “Markie?”

He looked over. Mark had that dumb glaze in his eyes as he was just staring at him. Well, not quite at him. Lower. Confusion was brief before Donghyuck caught it, as his own gaze swiped downwards. His shirt had pulled upwards, and his abdomen was bared, so was the ever slight sight of his happy trail to his cock. And god forbid if Donghyuck had chosen to go commando in his own home.

Besides, Mark looked like he had short-circuited, and over what? Skin he had seen a thousand times during practices. He had surely seen more with the number of times Donghyuck had changed shirts near him.

Still…

Donghyuck’s hand dared to casually move to the skin, his fingers drumming the exposed area all light and tempting. Like it was just a random, throwaway action. Like Donghyuck could not see a tongue swipe pale lips. How Marked looked more feverish now than when he lied about being unwell.

“You looked so cute today, Markie,” Donghyuck said, the goal for the remote suddenly forgotten.

Mark looked only closer to falling off the couch. There was a gulp. Painfully loud. “Oh, did I?”

Mark loved this. He wanted to be Donghyuck’s cute kitten, but he just hissed and scrambled back because he overthought everything. But that was what Donghyuck was for – to do all that work for him, to drudge the deep confusion of desire and tell Mark exactly what he wanted and how he was more than willing to give it to him.

“Your makeup was nice.” It was almost passive, bored, and curiously, Donghyuck sighed and settled deeper into the cushions of the couch. His eyes closed for a slow, lazing moment. When they opened, he caught the anxious chew of the other’s lips, the strained tightness of his jaw. Mark wanted his attention, his validation.

“Yeah, I just, I just…” Mark’s words drifted off. “Renjun looked good. His makeup, uh, that was good—nice.”

Donghyuck wanted to cackle. Mark was still so riled up, so envious, so heated, all because the man he hadn’t dared to stake a claim to had touched someone else. Someone who was not so afraid to bend and mould to the role that Mark was so frightened of. The submissive role.

“Oh, yeah, Renjun looked really pretty,” Donghyuck snorted, not missing the bitter way Mark’s nose wrinkled.

“Uh, yeah—”
“Not as pretty as you.”

“Yo—what?” But Mark’s freshly washed face had no makeup to hide how beet-red he burned. How his eyes raked all over Donghyuck, looking for rhyme or reason, looking so hopeful. Like he might just melt if he let himself.

But he was sitting up spine-straight. Suddenly coughing into his fist. Trying to pull away.

Donghyuck reached over, and his hand touched his back. The pads of his fingers glided over the fabric until they took a heavy fistful. He pulled Mark closer, grinning when he was met with a squawk of sound. He pulled Mark straight to his side, until the other was fumbling not to fall into him.

“I liked the headband, do you remember that one?” They had messed around with how many props and accessories? But it was all Donghyuck could think about. Mark with those cute auburn ears. Any ears would have done.

“The fox ears?” Mark said shakily, seemingly aware of how little space was between them. His hand was out, hesitating in the air between them, as if pondering if he should press it against Donghyuck to push himself away.

“Yes, Markie.” Donghyuck reached in, one hand still clutching Mark’s shirt, the other going straight for that frail hand. It melted in his touch, went completely boneless.

“You looked so cute,” Donghyuck tried once again, feeling a lick of evil inside of him at the way Mark made a wildly mousy sound. “I wanted to hug you, squeeze you.” As if for emphasis, Donghyuck tightened his grasp just a fraction.

Mark’s face was all red. “Hug me?” he repeated, rather stupidly. Donghyuck hummed. “Squeeze me…?”

Mark said it as if he had never considered that Donghyuck could ever say something that implied so much more in this intimately close touch. His mouth wobbled, a terribly-Mark defensive smile stretched on his face. All shaking and uncertain, moments away from laughing it all off, from deflecting.

“Mhm. ‘Could’ve eaten you alive, baby.”

Mark stilled, his smile dropped, but he made a low, frantic whine.

Donghyuck grinned.

He could feel the other’s heat. It radiated. Brazen and amber and wanting and scared. Pooling off Mark in large, frantic tumbles.

“Donghyuck. Donghyuck—Donghyuck— dude,” Mark was squirming, fumbling to make coherent sounds. Donghyuck pulled him closer, nosed his way into the crook of his neck. Purposely exhaling his own hot and heavy breath against the skin. He felt the hand he held twitch, spasm and shake. Poor baby.

“Hyuckie.” And there it was, that perfectly defeated whisper. Mark was still lost, but he had an idea of the direction they were heading towards.

“Mhmm, Markie,” Donghyuck drawled, mimicking – mocking. “Why’d you look so cute?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Mark said quietly, urgently.

“I don’t believe you. I think you wanted to be cute.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did; you wanted to be cute for me. Isn’t that right?” Donghyuck pressed his lips to the skin, suddenly slicked with the thinnest layer of sweat. Still, he smelled of pretty soaps, and his skin was all soft after being freshly moisturised. He didn’t kiss. Just drank the moment, inhaling thickly through his nose.

“I don’t know.” Mark’s voice was all high-pitched. Liar. “Hyuck.”

They must have looked like one body, Donghyuck having dragged him so close just so he could bury his face in this perfect spot.

“Or was it for the others? Did you actually use the darker eyeliner just for this fan sign?” And Mark made a quiet gasp, like he’d been caught.

Mark’s free hand pressed against his chest. Donghyuck cursed quietly but finally sat up straight. There was the flicker of something akin to disappointment in the other’s face, and felt the reluctance in Mark’s uncertain touch. Cowardly baby.

Donghyuck had never felt so consumed. The shiny, wide eyes. The hair that had dried all tousled and wild. The barely parted lips with their quivering stutter.

He still had his hands on him, just a daring moment more distant between them, and Mark looked paralysed with worry that the distance would only increase. But he made no move. Just stayed there, letting Donghyuck’s hand gentle its hold on his shirt and instead swipe down his spine in a gentle, forgiving way. His other, circled his thumb over tight knuckles.

“Tell me, tell me why you looked so pretty today.”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut, and for a moment, Donghyuck actually worried that he was going to hear the whine of ‘dude, what are you saying?’

“Foryou.”

“What was that?” Donghyuck thought he could feel his own heart in his mouth. All hot and bloody and pulsing as his own greedy teeth bit into it. He tapped Mark’s back and was met with the quick inhale of breath.

“For you.”

“Fuck.” Donghyuck hissed, and Mark cowered, looking so weak and not at all like the fearless leader he always tried to be. “Baby, come here.”

And finally, all on his own, Mark shifted inwards. His knees brushed warmly against Donghyuck’s.

“You’re so good for me, so pretty. Isn’t that right?” Donghyuck whispered, his hand slid down and found the shirt’s hem. It hesitated; he waited to see if Mark might startle, but there was only a patient moment. His fingertips dipped under and stroked the skin that he found. “My pretty Markie.”

“Hyuck.”

Mark was so cute. Donghyuck wished he could reach for his phone and take a photo of him like this. His glittering eyes looked so innocent when he was this worried, still seemingly nauseous with the thought that he was alone in his feelings. Like, Donghyuck was not trying to unstring him terribly. The pupils that were suddenly fixed on Donghyuck’s lips before they danced away.

His nails pressed into Mark’s back featherlight, but he knew that when he finally pulled away that they would momentarily hold the indents regardless.

He tilted his head, felt his chest swell. Mark was so close. Mark was wanting. He was practically a moment away from an excited nosebleed and a desperate clash of lips.

Mark shivered, and Donghyuck stole into it, palming up the curve of his spine. “Your skin is burning.”

There was a shaky nod, a barely heard sound of agreement.

“So go lie down then, baby,” Donghyuck whispered, unable to fight the smirk that played on his lips. “Go lie down, you’re unwell, remember?”

Mark paled. But he got up, knees ready to buckle beneath him. He watched him walk away – hating how he could only groan in frustration when he was finally alone. His dick felt frustratedly needy, half-alive and rather obvious in its outline in his sweats. Donghyuck cursed low and annoyed. He wanted Mark; he could have had him, but he wanted to get the win he deserved after all his hard efforts.

The rest of the week was just the slow unfurl of torture. The next morning, Donghyuck had found Mark at his dining table. Grimacing at the ‘feel better!’ messages that the members had flooded their group chat with. Donghyuck snuck up behind, and caught his ear in a pinch as he grazed his thumb against the shell.

“Morning,” he said lazily, feeling the other snap upwards to sit up straight. Phone dropping with a loud clunk against the table. Donghyuck looked down at him, Mark’s head tilted all the way back. He was tense, like he was fighting the urge to curl into his dongsaeng’s touch. “You look better.”

“I am.” Mark was staring hard, like perhaps he had woken from a long dream. “I’m all good.”

“Good, that’s good. Can’t have you slacking off.”

“I don’t slack—”

“Have you eaten yet?”

There was a shake. And Donghyuck finally released the ear he had been caressing touching. Mark immediately went to press his palm against it. His expression was perfectly pinched.

“Good. Good! Let’s go to the cafeteria before practice, I don’t want to cook.”

“And you call me a slacker,” came a not-so-well-hidden mumble.

Donghyuck just grinned.

Or later, during dance practice, Renjun was proudly showing off a photo of himself and Donghyuck that had gone viral from the infamous photoshoot. He had his phone propped up to show the others, and his chin pointed out.

“Let’s just finish this blocking,” Mark had sulked. Back turned to the phone, none of the others paid him any mind. None of them but Donghyuck.

Donghyuck, who swept him into a tight back hug and cooed into his ears. “Jealous baby.”

Mark’s face had gone bright red, and he had subsequently elbowed his way out of the other’s hold.

Thursday noon, and Donghyuck was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. One of the social media managers had badgered them into recording together. For TikTok, or reels, or maybe it was both – Donghyuck could never keep up anymore. But Mark had been insistent on the options in which he got to be the nonchalant receiver of Donghyuck’s fanservice-y actions. Like Mark had not been bubbling over like a teenage girl because Donghyuck had been holding him on his couch and whispering sweet nothings into his ear on the weekend. No, because Mark was convinced he fit this other role. Mark still wanted to look tough and untouchable. He wanted fanservice where he could imply he had that cold, domineering energy.

Maybe Donghyuck really did roll his eyes.

Still, he did adore Mark, so it was not impossible.

He just squished to the other’s side, made his voice go higher, and made exaggerated kissy lips at the other. Mark would stiffen and lean away, act all grossed out and amused. The fans believed it. Sometimes, the members did too. Donghyuck hated most when Mark fell for his own lies, too.

Like he had not seen Mark drooling over magazines of men when he was sixteen. Or had not known how Mark had pressed a hand to his stomach, hard, when he was nineteen and staring blearily at some censored gay sex scene on a foreign movie they had thrown on.

The worst part—was when Mark looked at Donghyuck like he had fooled him too. That Donghyuck was going to be his twink or some shit.

“I need a drink,” Donghyuck groaned. Friday evening had not come soon enough. He had no schedules until Saturday night anyway. Mark was driving him crazy. Giving him desperate, coochie eyes in the corridors, and then drawing back every time Donghyuck held his gaze too long.

“No way, I’m not going out,” Chenle said, sending a very stern look. Too familiar with the game they played.

Donghyuck let out a long whine, draping his arms around the other – and shaking him. “But sweetie… we’ve worked so hard.”

“I’m still working, I’ve got schedules in the morning.”

Donghyuck frowned; the sarcastic urge to tell Chenle to ignore them bubbled like a simmering threat on his tongue. But he relented. “You’re no fun.”

“Who isn’t fun?” Mark asked as he stepped into the room, Jeno behind him.

Jeno, who thankfully had saved Donghyck's dissolving self, was carrying a pack of beer in one hand and a white steaming bag in another. He could have praised the heavens in relief. Especially when that bag was dropped on the living space floor, and they all immediately plunked down around it. It smelled greasy. It smelled bad for them. Donghyuck’s hand reached forward first to tumble through the plastic, drawing out the stacked Styrofoam boxes.

“Perfect Jeno. Did you know you’re my favourite?” Donghyuck sang.

It earned him a chorusing shout of “Hey!” straight from the mouths of the other two. The other members were probably out wasting their own free time or already passed out in bed.

Donghyuck could not care. More beer for him, really.

“Pass a box to me, I’m hungry,” Mark said, already on his knees next to Donghyuck and staring eagerly.

“You can ask for it nicer than that.”

Mark snorted, too clearly in a good-natured mood. Donghyuck could roll his eyes, but it left his chest feeling too light and airy.

“Please, Hyuck,” Mark tried again, voice riddled with the sound of a smile. Donghyuck bit his cheek.

“I love it when Mark does what he says,” Chenle mock-whispered to Jeno, cackling behind his hand (which was seemingly only there to further exaggerate his teasing).

Jeno’s head tilted to the side slightly, a delighted gleam in his eyes. “Do you think he’d do what we say?”

Donghyuck could see Mark’s bald fists on the ground next to him. How they nervously squeezed into themselves tighter, leaving the knuckles white.

“Hah, yeah, right. Markie is only submissive for his Donghyuck,” Chen-le joked, singing the last part painfully sweet.

It was a joke. The most obvious joke. Donghyuck knew immediately that it would strike Mark right where it hurt. And he watched it happen, the flicker of apprehension that twisted into horror on Mark’s expression, and how his shoulders squared off as defensive and uncomfortable. He was too readable, and maybe that was what scared him – thinking that Chenle and Jeno had seen him for who he truly was.

“I’m not—I’m not—” He couldn’t even say it. His voice was wavering, borderline choked up. Jeno’s amusement faltered, and Chenle reached to his side to pass out the beers.

“Here,” Donghyuck whispered. He slid over the takeout, instead swapping to flick the tab of his beer can. Say it, say the words that frighten you so bad.

In the end, Donghyuck could gladly say he got his beer with Chenle. Which was enough for now. The conversation twisted and turned. From Jeno’s CF to Chenle’s latest fan call – an unfortunate moment that involved uninterrupted animal sounds (because apparently that was a timeless aegyo classic).

Mark had softened again, but he kept that defensive bite every time a joke lingered too close for comfort. Like if there was a girl he was talking too, like Donghyuck shouldn’t laugh at the prospect or maybe laugh at the way Mark flipped his hair in an effort to seem cool as he shrugged and said he was busy. Or when Chenle implied that Donghyuck was Mark’s girl (yeah, right), and Mark huffed but didn’t shoot it down. God, Donghyuck adored him, but he could be so obtuse that it hurt.

Then, when Mark was two beers in and had forgotten his awkwardness, had crawled closer to Donghyuck, who very kindly slung an arm around him and pinched at the fabric on his shoulder.

“Hyuckie,” he hissed; it sounded more like a giggle.

Donghyuck smiled back. Pleased, amused, a little in love.

“God, you two are so gay,” Chenle laughed before he looked back down at his phone and rubbed his full stomach.

“I’m not,” Mark said, embarrassingly quick. And he was already struggling to unravel himself from Donghyuck’s featherlight hold. “Dude, ‘m not gay.”

Chenle wasn’t even listening.

Jeno was furrowing his brows as he poked at the last empty beer can. “Man, this blows. Let’s go out?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck said, “Yeah, let's go out.”

“—‘m not—”

“I’m sure, baby,” he whispered, and Mark’s lips smacked shut. He offered him a hand as they stood up, wiping their hands on the legs of their pants. “Jeno, call the ride.”

A club was always still a club, regardless of whether it was the VIP section or not. He had already lost track of Jeno, not that he had particularly cared to keep it in the first place. The other had probably run into friends, or made friends, or was dancing with someone in a way that Donghyuck was certain he did not want to see.

“They’re doing deals on tequila shots,” he said passively to Mark, eying his face to track its every minuscule change.

The lights of the club were a deep blue, roaming across them in moving splashes. It exaggerated every shadow and brought a frightening mystery to the two maybe (certainly) tipsy men.

“Tequila…” Mark trailed off, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Dude, that’s like, evil liquor.”

“Right. And the time you downed four shots of vodka wasn’t evil?”

He gave an unhelpful shrug. In the end, a waitstaff appeared with a silver platter of overpriced seasonal liquor and begrudgingly, Donghyuck asked for the overpriced shots to be put on his tab – hoping they’d dull his mind before sense told him to sober up and head home.

They downed the liquor. It was sweet. It burned. Sparked a tingling howl of feeling in his throat, and he sighed afterwards like it hadn’t hurt. Too quickly did the breezy warmth of alcohol come, leaving him with that familiar comfortableness to his own body.

To Mark’s body, too, if the way his eyes squeezed together and he smiled hopelessly, the shot glass was still pinched in his fingers. And all Donghyuck could do was stare. How his expression screwed up when they both (stupidly) went for the second shots that he had bought, and Mark had the soon-empty glass still lingering at his lips whilst he looked like he had just bitten into a lemon. Then it split apart, and he huffed out a giggle. The stupid, drunk kind that made Donghyuck bite his own tongue to stop himself from giggling too. The bitterness had melted away, as had the burn. All that lingered was a syrupy sweetness that dared to trick them into thinking the drinks had only ever been kind to them.

The floor was vibrating with the loud beat of the music and the people. It was overwhelming, it was distracting.

Mark was quick to drop his glasses on the table; one fell over and rolled with a short, wilted motion.

“Another one, Hyuckie, let’s get another one.” Mark was unbearably smiley.

“Are you drunk or something already?” But Donghyuck was barely one to talk, with the easiness in his head and the hungriness in his chest.

There was a dramatic roll of eyes, and Donghyuck knew that he might just give in if Mark’s wasted and whiny voice called for Hyuckie again.

“You’re a bigger lightweight than me,” Mark said quickly. Although he perked up, head tipping to the dancefloor. “Oh, I love this song!”

“You’re hopeless,” Donghyuck murmured, but he extended a hand.

He got a confused look in return. “Let’s dance,” he said, voice slow as he watched how his words made their way into the other’s head.

In a packed dance floor, in a VIP section that left them feeling a fraction safer, Donghyuck and Mark melted into the ease of dancing stupidly with each other. With Mark tossing his head around, his hair flying, as he mouthed the words that blared through the speakers. Donghyuck tried not to flinch every time a shoulder bumped into him, an aching reminder of how hard it was to feel normal sometimes. But the longer he sat with the liquor in him, and the longer he laughed at Mark’s erratic dancing, he found a small comfort.

Then Mark’s hands were on his wrists, perhaps meant to drag him closer slightly, but the other drunkenly overestimated—their chests banged together. And Donghyuck turned his head quickly enough to stop their noses from smashing together. But he snorted against a cheek, pulled back and saw the guilty smile. But the hands didn’t let go. Not until Donghyuck pulled out of them.

Strobes of light against them, around them. Blues and greens. All rippling across them. The people like one rocking ocean, swaying them together. Donghyuck’s hand snapped to Mark’s hip, keeping him close, not letting him fall into their current. Just kept there, with him. Mark’s hand found his shoulder. It was shaking. It squeezed him.

“Still want to dance?” Donghyuck asked, his other hand found Mark’s chin and tipped it to the side so he could lean into his ear and whisper, “Baby.”

There was a shudder of breath, but Mark nodded weakly.

So that was how they lost themselves. Bodies practically pressed together. Alcohol sloshed with their thoughts that were prickled with unspoken wants.

Hands that dared to explore a little further than they should in a place like this. “Don’t look at them,” Donghyuck would whisper – whether he meant not to let them concern him, or because he didn’t want Mark to look at anyone but him, he could never say. And Mark would give a stilted look of understanding, his fingertips fiery in the way they brushed against any exposed skin they could find.

Hand that had been more daring than they ever had been before.

Donghyuck dropped his touch lower, let it slide down until he palmed the back of Mark’s thigh and then brought it back up – cupping his ass for a fleeting moment as he did so.

Mark looked like he had been drawn from deep thoughts as he gasped. He stumbled back immediately, face all flushed.

“I need a drink,” he said, the worst excuse lying between them like tea offered only out of politeness.

“I’ll come with you then,” Donghyuck said, too easily, and Mark looked too pleased with his answer.

At the bar, Mark rested on his elbows, mouthing at the straw of some candy-coloured cocktail. But his eyes were glancing sideways, so hopelessly, at Donghyuck. Donghyuck just stood next to him a little straighter, one hand subtly pressed against the other’s lower back, whilst the other pocketed the card he had just used to pay for his and Mark’s drink.

His own cocktail staring at him below. He had let Mark pick. It was some watermelon concoction that was sure to leave him gagging from the fake-sugary taste. But his foolish brain ached for the stupidity liquor gave him, and it ached more for every moment he and Mark had spent so close like this.

In the end, it had taken only the stupid cocktail before the thin barrier between them had begun to fray and break.

The dancefloor had only gotten more packed when they returned. And Mark had fisted Donghyuck’s shirt for support when he had nearly stumbled into the abyss of people. Donghyuck just wrapped an arm around him. Stomachs against each other, arms lost holding each other, and they were just staring at each other. Dance – that was what they should be doing. Desire was wrapped around the two of them in the way that it always had been – wound around them thorny and trapping, sharp in their skin and so unforgettable. Mark stared at his face and looked desperate. At some point, he touched his cheek, and Mark curled into the touch and stared at him.

He knew what that stare meant.

He was sure he had the same one on his face.

“Bathroom,” he said, suddenly aware of where they were. “The bathroom, Markie.”

And Mark nodded, his chest heaving like a weight had been removed.

Donghyuck ushered him into the stall, hands never quite leaving Mark. He scraped his sides, finding the small of his waist and squeezing. He turned him around, moved Mark until he could push him against the stall door whilst Mark fumbled blindly at the lock.

“Hyuck,” Mark whined. “Donghyuck.”

“Mark, baby, Markie.” Saying their names was stupid. A bad idea. But maybe Donghyuck was daring to hope that every bad idea would become a worse idea. “C’mere.”

He had been waiting for this since before he even knew it. Since he had gotten that stupid, childish taste for it and never grown out of it. Had just been waiting for his second chance.

Now, in the dark bathroom, he kissed Mark again. Holding him in place as he pressed his lips against him – he could not even close his eyes yet. Just stared half-lidded at the face that kissed him back. Mark still tasted like the syrupy liquors; his lips trembled as Donghyuck had always known they would.

Mark kissed at him, desperate and needy. He whined through gritted teeth and pouting lips.

“Baby,” Donghyuck was hissing back, kissing back as much as he could, like he was not already having his mind crash and waver at every connecting touch. His Mark kissing him back, finally, it felt surreal. It was almost impossible to believe.

But here they were. Even as Donghyuck licked against his lips like some sick pervert, Mark’s mouth simply fell open, an aching sound of desperation coming from within.

Mark clung to him with every touch. And it was like they remembered that they were as much alone as they could be, and they had already crossed the line, and suddenly their bodies were pushed up against each other again. Mark half-hard in his pants, groaning the moment Donghyuck palmed from his hip to just below his belly. Hips jutting forward like a little—

Donghyuck sunk hit teeth into Mark’s bottom lip, tugged at them just so he could hear the squeak he could drag out of the other. He melted back into their rhythm, humming at the bruising kisses that Mark seemed desperate to share. At the way, he felt Mark’s leg lift and tried to snake around him. Like Mark wanted to cling to him, to wrap around him.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck snarled into the delighted lips, tasted the hot mouth that scorched him sweetly. “Do you know what you do to me?”

He’d pulled back, a string of saliva between them. Mark struggled to not drag him straight back in.

“Hyuck. I want—” Donghyuck’s eyes narrowed. “I want to…”

“What? To fuck?” Donghyuck squeezed the flesh in his hand, and Mark moaned quietly. He wondered who Mark had last let touch him. He wondered if anyone had ever gotten to what he wanted. But by the shakiness in the other’s voice, and the red glow of his face, Donghyuck knew easily that Mark would never have given that up yet.

“I can…” Mark’s voice was so soft, it itched against his skin, “I mean—I want—” Where was your charismatic charm from the stage, Mark Lee?

“Let’s call a taxi.”

The ride was too horribly long. It had meant no touching; it had meant going out on the street and knowing that there could be a camera aimed at their backs. Even as Donghyuck finally slung an arm around Mark’s shoulders as they stumbled into the vehicle.

And the way into Donghyuck’s apartment felt worse. It was Mark staring at him hard in the corner of the elevator. His thighs pressed together, and a beautifully sulky pout to his lips.

But the moment they fell into the apartment was worth it. Toeing off their shoes. Donghyuck had typed out some half-written message to Jeno that he had promptly abandoned as he let his phone fall from his hand to the floor. Mark was reaching for him, with that grumpy pout still on his face. He caught Donghyuck’s collar in tight fists and snapped in to kiss Donghyuck.

It was quiet here.

If you ignored the loud, frantic panting. The sound of expensive fabrics rubbing together. The sound of Mark shoving Donghyuck against the wall. The sound of Mark’s involuntary, loud moan the moment Donghyuck took a handful of his hair.

“Fuck, Mark,” he groaned.

Mark blinked back at him. A slight smirk finally cracked onto his face, a slight confidence, but it was still off – not quite comfortable.

His fingers threaded in the locks. Soft, and his nails scraped the other’s scalp and watched how Mark swallowed hard.

“Mark.”

There was a barely audible hum. The fists that clung to his clothes had loosened, only to try to drag Donghyuck’s jacket off of him.

“Mark, my room.”

Mark looked him in the eyes, and god, he was beautiful. His flushed face, how the colour had found its way even to his neck. How he licked his lips and had eyeliner smudged at the corners of his eyes. Glitter that must have been applied in the morning was still there and faint on his eyelids. Mark kissed him. Soft. Like a lost ray of sun in the middle of the night, and Donghyuck melted into it. Kissed him back as he let his jacket be dragged off his arms, even if it meant he had to tear his hands off the other even for a moment. But Mark finally moved, and they finally separated, just to grin at each other as they snuck off to Donghyuck’s room.

They moved like they were still in the dorm. Snickering and reaching for each other. It was every fantasy Donghyuck had been dreaming of all these years.

 He closed the bedroom door like someone would find them; his hand slapped the wall for the light. He cringed at the break of yellow light that flooded the room and gave a guilty grin to Mark who had wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“What did you do that for?”

“To see you better,” Donghyuck told truthfully, his hands finally learning patience as they hovered over Mark’s hip.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh, Mark – Mark, you’re so beautiful.”

Mark’s eyes widened, lips parting slightly in surprise. He faintly remembered how undone Mark had been when Donghyuck had complimented his appearance fiercely before.

Donghyuck reached for his own belt and slowly undid it, loving the way Mark stared down at it dumbly. “You know why I’m doing this, right?” There was a startled sound. “Because you’re irresistible.”

“Hyuck!”

He slid the belt out and let it hit the floor. Mark was breathing heavy. “Don’t sound so surprised, god, Markie, you’re such a baby.”

Mark made a strangled sound, but Donghyuck could see the outline of his erection in his pants. And god – Mark, must have been desperate. There was the tiniest wet spot on his pants, and Donghyuck wondered how much wetter the cock beneath the layers of fabric must be. It forced a pang of need in the lower part of his belly.

“Shut up,” Mark said, voice cracking. He was still staring at where the belt had been. Eyes narrowed at the way Donghyuck had one fist resting on the button of his pants.

“Mark,” Donghyuck said, and he just loved saying his name. Loved seeing how Mark startled each and every time, how he looked like he turned to goo whenever he called it too sweetly. “You have to get undressed.”

Mark tentatively reached for his shirt, eyes flickering all over the room, all over Donghyuck. Until he finally rolled the shirt off of himself. All fine muscle, coated in the thinnest sheet of sweat. His hands scrunched the fabric for a moment until that too was dropped to the floor with the belt. He reached for his own, fumbling with it hastily.

Donghyuck’s cock felt suddenly and terribly confined, but he didn’t move.

He just watched.

Watched as Mark clumsily threw his belt to the ground, and his hands shook as he undid his pants. They fell to the ground in a crumpled heap with everything else discarded.

It was just Mark. Perfect, beautiful Mark in nothing but his briefs.

“Your turn,” he whispered.

Donghyuck offered nothing but a lazy smile. “My turn?”

Still, he pulled off his clothes too, grinning at the way Mark helplessly stared at the outline of his erection in his briefs.

Just like before, they fell into each other. Hands were squeezing biceps, pressing kisses to mouths, despite how Donghyuck was sure that Mark’s tongue must have felt just as bruised as his did. His palm slid down, touched the firm muscle and felt them tense under his touch. He moved lower, found a hip and the smooth, final piece of fabric. He shifted slightly, grinning against Mark’s lips as he groped his ass. His fingers dug in harshly, and the lips parted in pleased surprise. Somewhere, he was sure he had heard his name called softly. He stumbled back onto the bed, making sure that he brought Mark with him. Mark’s hands were on Donghyuck’s chest as he pushed himself up, accidentally rocking against the erection. Donghyuck’s mean fingers squeezed again. Mark was practically straddling him with a daring wet patch where his desperate little cockhead must have been pressed up against.

Mark looked like heaven like this. Staring down at Donghyuck with his smudged makeup, swollen lips, and that dazed and needy look in his eyes. His face was all flushed, and his chest was rising and falling like he still hadn’t recovered all his breath. His thighs tensed around Donghyuck, squeezing his sides, his hips jutting in a slight, stilted movement. Desperate.

“Markie,” Donghyuck cooed, his fingers reaching to find the waistband, dipping in slightly and seeing how the other shivered. “You’ve been waiting so long, haven’t you?”

“No— I…” Mark threw his gaze to the side.

Donghyuck began to dip his fingers lower, relishing in the burn of Mark’s skin.

Until Mark spoke again – all warbled and shy, “We should swap positions.”

He felt his eyebrows drag together, a dull pang of confusion that bled like a trapped wound beneath his own eagerness and tipsy state. Donghyuck took a playful handful of the ass he was touching. “But you look so pretty like this, Markie, I could stare at you all day.”

There was a thick swallow that turned into a fluttering gasp as Donghyuck pinched him. A bit mean, a bit worth it.

“Hyuck – don’t you think I should be…”

“Where should you be, Markie?”

There was a nervous sound, and the air suddenly tasted saltier, sober. Mark was embarrassed in this position even though he liked it. Even as his cock was leaking without Donghyuck even touching it, even though Mark kept shifting and teasing in this spot. Donghyuck felt a familiar understanding that was, of course, bound to hit Mark the moment things got too real.
“I should be—”

“—Topping? Seriously, Mark, you can’t even say it.” He didn’t mean to sound scolding or condescending, but he knew he had. Mark stiffened. Donghyuck tentatively slowed his greedy touch. “Sorry, baby, it’s just—”

Mark flinched like he had been scalded. Donghyuck pulled his hands off immediately, lips downturned and suddenly unsure. Mark was scrambling off of him.

“Mark?”

“Sorry, fuck, I don’t even know what I was thinking—”

“What are you saying? You’re freaking me out.” But Mark was already off the bed, grabbing his clothes, and his neck so tense that Donghyuck thought he might have seen a vein throb.

“I shouldn’t have done this to you, I’m sorry, you’re my member,” Mark rambled, stopping to run a panicked hand through his hair.

Oh. The overthinking, it was back. Donghyuck let out a low sigh and pulled himself up, ego a little deflated as he watched Mark struggle to step into his pants.

“Mark, come here, just lie down—”

“No!” was the too quick reply, and Donghyuck frowned. “I shouldn’t have done this. I’m not—” Mark’s mouth snapped shut, and his eyes blinked wet and glossy. His throat shifted with a slow, sad bob.

Donghyuck stood up slowly and took a cautious step toward him. Fuck, his head hurt. Nothing sobered him more than worrying over Mark.

“What exactly aren’t you?” Mark looked at him like a cornered deer, like Donghyuck had a crossbow drawn at him. Big mood killer.

The other touched his own face, perhaps to pinch sense into himself helplessly, his nails dragged down his cheeks. Mark looked so small back in his clothes now, and the way he was fighting back tears. “I’m not, y’know—” he made a large shrug, “I’m not gay.”

Donghyuck bit his tongue so hard he swore he tasted something coppery; he nodded slowly. His own discomfort felt suddenly and uncomfortably apparent. The outside night hummed a nothingness sound, an echoing reminder of how alone together they really were right now. The room still stunk of their liquor, sweat, and perfume.

He made an exaggerated scoff, “You’re not gay, Minhyung, seriously, you’re pulling this shit now?”

Mark, ever-responsible in the worst of moments, looked downright ashamed. “Hyuckie,” he sniffed.

“Don’t ‘Hyuckie,’ me,” Donghyuck pushed back, “You had your tongue practically down my throat, and a wet dick, but you’re not gay now?”

Mark stared at him wide-eyed. As he knew, for once, he could not hide from this. Not like he did with the members, when he shot down their comments and teasing and queries easily. No, he can’t deny what Donghyuck had always known about him, what Donghyuck had now seen so easily displayed.

“Well, dude—”

“You did not just call me dude,” Donghyuck said, still in nothing but his underwear. He crossed his arms and steadied his sharpest look at Mark.

“I’m not. I shouldn’t be, you know, like—I wouldn’t.” Donghyuck was certain that the next words were going to be something along the lines of getting fucked so good that he’d forget his issues, but instead Mark went pale and made a frightened sound.

“Mark?” Donghyuck stepped closer, arms dropping. Mark pressed his knuckles to his lips. “Shit—Mark, are you going to be—” There was a gagging sound, and immediately Donghyuck took his other arm and raced him to the bathroom.

His teeth grit in a mix of disgust and panic as Mark gripped the porcelain bowl and vomited up a night’s worth of drinking. Tears streamed down his face, and he sniffled miserably. As much as he wished he could say he had done it reluctantly, Donghyuck stroked his back, fingers gently playing with his wrinkled shirt.

When Mark finally fell back, Donghyuck helped him wash out his mouth.

“You’re such a mess, baby,” he murmured, staring at him through the reflection. Mark shuddered and shook his head softly.

“I should…”

Donghyuck hummed, shifting to look at him in the eyes. His poor, stupid Mark. “The spare bed is ready for you.”

“Oh.” Mark shifted awkwardly. “Okay.”

Donghyuck helped Mark into the bed, left a glass of water on the bedside table, and even fetched him a charger for his phone. Mark looked terribly down in the darkness. He’d changed out of his clothes but had forgone the shower. He was in his briefs again… and seemed to have stolen one of Donghyuck’s shirts. His mind so loud that it disturbed the peace of an hour when no one should be awake, let alone this fragmented.

He flicked the other’s forehead, the only way he could seemingly try to tell the other that it was fine without saying the words at all.

Because it wasn’t fine.

Donghyuck felt gutted.

Felt like he was wondering if Mark was going to spend the rest of their lives denying him. If that stupid nightmare he had at fourteen, where the other ran off and married a woman that he didn’t even like, might actually come true.

But all he could think of as his own head hit the pillow – was that longing, pleading look he had seen. Like Mark was begging to be kissed out of his stupidity.