Archive of Our Own

Zhang Hao was fresh out of a breakup when he first met Sung Hanbin.

He was a third-year student then, so utterly devastated that he became something close to a ghost in his own home. He didn't leave his room unless it was for one of two things: food or classes. That was it. No going out with friends, no extra convenience store trips when he runs out of snacks—just the bare minimum required to keep his body moving while his heart lay somewhere on the floor, still bleeding. He was so absent and quiet that the one time he emerged to eat when he wasn’t the only person in the house, his housemate nearly jumped out of his skin.

"I thought you'd moved out," he admitted, staring at Hao like he'd seen a specter. And maybe he had, honestly. Hao wasn't sure he'd been fully present in weeks.

It took a lot of convincing on Kim Gyuvin's part to even get Hao to consider stepping a foot outside his dorm room. Gyuvin pleaded and hung off his arm, begging him to get fresh air. Gyuvin guilt-tripped him by saying he missed him over and over, lanky arms draped over Hao's body. Gyuvin cried and begged ah, I just want my hyung back, please give him back, and then he'd cry into the very last cup of noodles stashed in Hao's place.

Gyuvin must've gotten sick of these approaches, because he eventually resorted to showing up at his door with an ultimatum: "You can't rot forever, hyung. At least rot somewhere with better lighting. You might actually turn into a mushroom."

Maybe it was Gyuvin’s persistence, or maybe it was the way that he looked at Hao as if he were watching someone drown—so he relented.

Gyuvin took him to the culmination of the only event their university seemed to care about: its annual anniversary celebration.

It was also there where Hao saw Sung Hanbin for the first time.

The university's showcase was loud, crowded, and overwhelming, and a year ago Hao would’ve loved it, but not in his current broken state. He was constantly two minutes away from bolting, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people and sweaty bodies that his introvert self usually disliked.

But the moment the dancers took the stage, everything else fell away.

Sung Hanbin moved like water pretending to be fire: bursting with passion but fluid, controlled but raging in every single way. Safe to say, Hao was mesmerized just from the first look. Throughout the entire performance, his eyes never left Hanbin, not even once. The other performers blurred into the background, like shadows in Sung Hanbin’s flame.

He kept this to himself, of course. What was he supposed to say? "I think I just forgot my ex existed for a moment because a boy on stage moved his hips a certain way to NCT"? to NCT, of all things. His Girl Group Stan Predecessors would look down on him in shame.

In a humorous twist of fate, Gyuvin knew someone who knew someone on the dance team. Before Hao could even protest—or maybe the sight of hot men makes him more agreeable—he was being dragged to an afterparty, still wearing the same dazed expression he’d worn ever since the showcase ended.

The very first thing Gyuvin did was introduce him to Hanbin.

Looking back, Hao didn't know it then, but Hanbin was incredibly flustered around him. Stumbling over his words just a little and blushing all the way up to the tips of his ears. His smile never faltered as he leaned into Hao's space like a sunflower looking for the sun.

("That's how he flirts," Gyuvin would explain a week after Hao and Hanbin finally got together, long after the pieces had clicked into place. "He laughs, and then he just throws himself at the other person. Definitely an excuse to touch them." Hao had thrown a pillow at his face. Gyuvin had caught it, grinning. "You're welcome, by the way.")

When Gyuvin excused himself to greet someone else, Hanbin didn't let the moment die. Instead, he whisked Hao away to the balcony, away from the noise and the crowd and everything Hao hated. There, under the cold, uncaring stars, they spent an obscene amount of time together—talking about nothing and everything, laughing at jokes that weren't even funny. It was only Hanbin who was actually tipsy, but Hao felt drunk off the feeling of being with him.

Hao realized, somewhere between the second hour and the third—somewhere between Hanbin resting his head on Hao’s shoulder and his own hand finding its way through Hanbin’s hair—that he had found someone who was just like him.

"Like mirrors," Hanbin had joked, his breath fogging in the night air.

They were only found hours later—after everyone who wasn’t part of the dance team had left—curled up against each other on the balcony floor, impossibly close, sharing warmth against the cold of the night.

Their friendship after that night was instantaneous. Inevitable, even. They knew each other so well that sometimes Hao forgot Hanbin hadn't been there the day he was born. It felt like Hanbin had simply always existed at his side.

But even after a year, they never crossed the line past friendship.

But did they act like friends? Hao doesn't know. He's not sure anyone would look at them and think friends, not with the way they gravitated toward each other.

All he knew was that Hanbin was Hao, and Hao was Hanbin. They were an extension of each other, two halves of a whole.

They held hands constantly, cuddled without thinking twice, and stayed at each other's side whenever possible—even when it made no logistical sense. If it were even possible, they would have figured out a way to breathe the same air.

But on Hao's very last year of university, something shifted.

Hanbin grew distant—but he still acted the same. That was the cruelest part. He'd still show up by Hao's side. Still checks up on him, still accompanies him to wherever he wills, still gets him coffee, and most devastatingly, still looks at him like he hung the moon.

But he'd pull his hand away before their fingers could fully intertwine, make excuses not to stay over at Hao's place, and create just enough space for them to be apart but not completely. Hao was busy enough to overlook it: taking his final finals and writing his thesis—all the things that came with being a graduating student.

But there was a bone-deep ache that settled into him anyway.

On the night Hao graduated, he invited Hanbin over to his place—desperate for an explanation before it was too late.

On the very same night, Hanbin told Hao he loves him.

("You just—" Hanbin’s voice cracked. "The night we met, you told me you came out of a breakup and I didn't want to be just a rebound. So I waited. I kept my mouth shut and I stayed by your side and I told myself it was enough just to have you in my life, even if I couldn't have you the way I wanted. And then eventually you became the most important person in my life. The most important person, Hao-hyung. And I didn't want to ruin that by rushing into something you weren't ready for. But with how things are right now…" He laughed, broken and wet, tears clinging to his unfairly long lashes as he cried. "I already did, huh?")

Hao didn’t waste any time. He didn’t even think about it, not when he was so sure of what he wanted. He pushed Hanbin into his bed—the very same bed they’ve cuddled countless times and held each other close in—and sealed their lips together.

Their first time together was teary. Awfully salty. They kiss and kiss and kiss, swallowing each other's apologies and gasping out tearful words of adoration. Hanbin gets hard beneath him, the evidence pressing insistently against his thigh.

Hao pulled his pants down without thinking, eager to get closer. To bury himself somewhere Hanbin can't pull away from—maybe even crawl under his skin if he could. But he can’t, so he does the closest thing to it, wrapping a hand around Hanbin’s length with a trembling grip, showing exactly how long he'd been waiting for this.

He found that his fingernails barely grazed his thumb.

He still remembers that day in full detail. Yes, it’s because it’s the day they got together—but also because that was when he discovered that Hanbin was absolutely packing.

Comically so. Like, unfairly so. Hao has seen dicks before. He’s kind of been with his ex once, that encounter having been cut short because said ex wasn’t sure if he wanted to have sex with a man (like he wasn’t in a relationship with Hao?). Even so, he's not inexperienced when it comes to sexual matters, either. He’s shoved a various array of things up his hole during self-love time: fingers, toys, and a household object that probably shouldn’t have gone up there.

But he has never, not once, shoved a live phallic object up his butt. It does not help that Hanbin's dick was so ridiculously huge, that Hao feels genuine fear even thinking about the thought of it entering his butthole. Hao has barely even gotten out of level one in the great game of anal exploration, and Hanbin was presenting him with a final boss that even the most seasoned speedrunners would run from.

Hao made a silent vow right then and there, with his hand still wrapped around his very reason for spiraling, to not let that thing anywhere near his poor Haole.

Besides, they have plenty of fun with just jerking each other off. Hao still gets hot thinking about the press of their bodies together, how Hanbin looks falling apart under him, and the slide of their lips against each other. They have tons of other things on their plate besides sexy time anyways, even if Hao thinks about it a bit too much.

Hao has picked up a job at the very university he met Hanbin in as a graduate assistant while doing his master’s degree. It's funny, because Hanbin is still a student. Still attending lectures and stressing over exams, making the gap between them feel so wide even though Hao is only a year older. Thankfully, they're in entirely different departments, so Hao will never end up in Hanbin’s classes. He won't have to grade his boyfriend's papers or watch him squirm in a lecture hall seat while pretending not to know the shape of his thighs.

It's a bit morally ambiguous on paper, though. A graduate assistant dating an undergraduate at the same university.

(Hanbin once held him down, hand pressed firmly against his mouth as he frantically jerked Hao off—whispering against his ear as he sobbed out, calling Hao seonsaengnim, seonsaengnim, rubbing himself against the meat of Hao's thigh like an animal in heat. Hao was so dizzy he couldn't protest. He just gripped the sheets and tried not to make a sound. After coming down from his high, Hao smacked Hanbin on the head, chastising him to never do that again. Hanbin seemed to like it so much, though, his eyes still glassy and lips still swollen, satisfied smirk on his mouth. Regrettably, Hao appreciates having a clear distinction between his work life and his sex life. Hao needs at least one space where he isn't thinking about his boyfriend calling him seonsaengnim in that voice. He is a professional.)

Hao is so busy that some days he forgets to eat lunch (which is arguably his favorite time of day). Sometimes, it’s hard to forget that there's a world outside of lesson plans and the endless pile of assignments waiting (im)patiently on his desk. But thankfully, the fact that he now shares a place with his boyfriend—boyfriend, he giggles every time he thinks about it—is enough to keep him going.

Their schedules are unpredictable at best. On some days Hao teaches morning classes and Hanbin has afternoon rehearsals, other days Hanbin is out the door before the sun even rises for an event and Hao doesn't get home until the streetlights are flickering on because he had to proctor an exam.

As a result, Hao can never really predict who'll get to go home first. Is it him or Hanbin? The answer changes every day, and it’s become kind of a game at this point, taking turns playing the wife who waits for her husband to come home, the one who has dinner ready or the one who walks through the door to find the other already there, curled up on the couch.

Recently, they’ve taken to favor hanging out on the couch Hao got from Karrot while doing work. It’s slightly worn, but still comfortable. Hao really likes the company—then again, when has he ever really disliked Hanbin’s presence—finding himself becoming more productive when there’s someone else doing work near him.

Well, usually, that someone is doing work.

"Hanbin-ah—" Hao giggles, as Hanbin plants a loud kiss behind his ear, grazing his lips over where he knows Hao is most sensitive. "This isn’t the time for kissing. I need these returned tomorrow."

Hanbin doesn’t halt in his ministrations—taking it further instead—seemingly emboldened by Hao’s voice pitching up. He tongues at Hao’s exposed skin, nibbling on the jut of his collarbone, pressing slow, wet smooches up the column his neck, trailing a path to the sharp of his jawline.

"This isn’t kissing," he murmurs as he nears Hao’s ear once more, the warmth making Hao shiver. Hanbin presses one last peck on the corner of Hao’s lip, soft and chaste, the same time he gently takes the iPad out of Hao’s hands, setting it on the floor. "This is kissing."

Before Hao can even protest over the other taking his work away from him, Hanbin captures his lips in a proper kiss. He's slow as he mouths against Hao, grazing the sharp of his teeth over the sensitive skin of Hao's lower lip with just enough pressure to make Hao's breath catch.

All speech bleeds out of Hao, evaporating into thin air, and he instinctively leans into Hanbin, chasing the fiery heat of his touch like a moth drawn to a flame. Seemingly sensing this, Hanbin slides a hand under Hao's shirt, his palm warm against the bare skin of Hao's stomach, but Hao brings a hand to his wrist, stopping him from reaching further.

Hanbin pulls away, most likely to question why, but Hao doesn’t let him get far. He slots his lips over Hanbin’s, slipping his tongue in Hanbin’s mouth, tasting the bitter tang of the coffee he was drinking earlier. Hao’s breathing is so much quicker now—chest heaving as he chases the heat of Hanbin’s mouth, letting out small whimpers whenever Hanbin moves his tongue just right.

The two of them have always loved kissing each other, but if there's something they love more than that—it's kissing messily. Hao loves feeling how desperate Hanbin gets for him, loves swallowing down his sounds and desperation and feeding it into the desire pooling low in his belly, a cycle of want that feeds itself.

Their lips don't part a single time as Hanbin uses his position as leverage to lean over Hao, cupping a hand on his nape to help guide him as he lays Hao down against the couch cushions—and Hao lets him, pliant and willing as Hanbin looms over him.

When they pull away, it’s with a wet, heated sound that seemingly echoes throughout the room.

"Hyung," Hanbin breathes out—borderline panting as he looks over Hao, heavy chest falling and rising in sync with Hao’s own. His gaze is heavy when he stares into his eyes, shadowed dark with pure want. "I’m hard."

Hao doesn't answer with words. Instead, he slings his legs over Hanbin’s waist, then tightens them around him, pulling him closer, eliminating any remaining space between their bodies. When Hanbin’s front presses onto Hao’s, they simultaneously both gasp. The sound is punched out of Hao like it was a physical blow. Fuck, even with clothes on, Hao feels the sheer thickness of his length.

He gulps, his throat bubbling in the quiet room.

"Do you want to cum?" Hao asks, his voice rough.

Hanbin nods, in a daze, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Taking advantage of the younger’s parted lips, Hao presses their lips together once more, swallowing the moan that escapes Hanbin’s throat. He grinds up against Hanbin, a slow circle of his hips just to be coy, pulling a stuttered breath out of the other. "Then do it like this."

"Hyung—" Hanbin’s voice cracks, not even hiding his desperation.

"Yeah?" Hao circles his hips in another slow circle, this time, making Hanbin jerk his hips forward, jostling both of them on the couch, the old springs creaking beneath them. "Can you not? Don’t you want to use hyung just like this?"

He knows exactly what he's doing. Yes, because he knows exactly what it does to Hanbin when he talks like this, but also because he kind of… does not want to see Hanbin with pants off right now or else the sight will terrify him. Usually, he has time to pep himself up before seeing his penis, but not today.

"No, I can, I can—" Hanbin begs frantically, words jumbling in a rush to fall out of his mouth. He pulls his hips back then forward in a rougher, deeper grind that makes stars burst out of Hao’s eyelids. It’s Hao who throws his head back this time, letting out a soft, breathy sound.

As if his desire had broken loose, Hanbin buries his nose in the crook of Hao’s neck, breathing him in like oxygen, not holding back as he grinds against Hao intensely. He doesn’t let up, not even once—perhaps the stamina of a dancer coming into play, all that endurance and core strength built from practice finding another purpose.

Hanbin’s thrusts are rhythmic and controlled, perhaps out of habit. He maintains a quick, almost hammering pace, but he sometimes switches it up by slowing his hips down and dragging his length fully on Hao’s front, making him feel every press against him.

Like this, Hao can’t do anything but let himself be jostled. What leaves his mouth are streams of moans, his eyes rolling back with every delicious grind against his own hard member.

"Hyung—" Hanbin mutters as he straightens his back, detaching himself from Hao’s neck. He slides his hand over Hao's thighs, running a hand to slide his shorts up the meat of his thigh, exposing more skin, doing little to cover himself. He then grips Hao's thighs, unwrapping them from Hanbin's body and spreading them apart, holding them on Hao's sides like he's a pretzel.

Like this, Hanbin can drag himself in between Hao’s cheeks, and over the sensitive underside of his balls in a way that makes Hao’s toes curl. "Look so good like this, hyung." Hanbin mutters, voice worshipping. Hao can’t do anything but gurgle as Hanbin fucks him through his clothes, nudging his cock against where he’s most sensitive.

Hao knows Hanbin’s close when his grinds start to become more unrestrained, almost frantic as his breathing is indistinguishable from hyperventilating. Hao grinds back—once, then twice—and Hanbin sways as he leans over Hao, damp forehead pressing against Hao’s chest as his hips stutter and Hao feels him release.

It doesn’t take much for Hao to follow with Hanbin’s hips still moving against him, riding his high.

Once enough time has passed and their breathing has slowed, Hanbin lifts his head from Hao’s chest, hair sticking up in every direction. He blinks at Hao, with the gaze of someone adoring, and leans down, pressing a kiss against Hao’s lips. "I really liked it, thank you."

Hao stares at him, before reaching up and flicking him squarely on the forehead. The sharp little sound echoes through the quiet room, and Hanbin lets out a small, offended ow, his hand flying up to rub at the spot. "Idiot. Why are you thanking me for sex?"

Hanbin just nuzzles closer, tucking his face into the curve of Hao’s neck. He presses a kiss against Hao’s neck, right where his pulse is. "Just wanted to. I knew you were busy, thanks for indulging me."

"You’d know if I didn’t want it," Hao replies simply.

They stay like that for a while, just breathing and existing together while tangled on the worn couch. Hao feels his sweat sticking to his clothes and his release damp in his underwear, but he doesn’t want to part from Hanbin, not yet.

"Though I want to know, is this your way of making me take a break?" Hao asks, sliding a hand in Hanbin’s hair, fingers gliding through the strands.

Hanbin’s smile is evident in his voice, warmth blooming in his voice. "How’d you know?" he asks. And when Hao looks at him, he finds Hanbin staring at him with the same smile that Hao has grown to love.

"I know you."

"Mmh," Hanbin hums, eyes fluttering closed as he presses a light, fleeting kiss on Hao’s jaw. "Hyung knows me the best."

In the end, Hao’s method of manipulating Hanbin to not take his clothes off is futile, given that they shower together slowly after. Hanbin washes his hair with careful fingers, working the shampoo until it bubbles and massaging Hao's scalp until his eyes drift shut. Hao returns the favor, tracing the lines of Hanbin's shoulders down to the dip of his waist, committing every inch of him to memory.

Hao knows they’ve taken too much time when their fingers are pruned once they step out.

Hao finally gets to breathe once the semester ends.

He spends a lot of his time lounging around with his boyfriend, draped across Hanbin's lap or sprawled out on the couch with his feet perched on Hanbin's thighs. When he's not doing that, he catches up on his favorite dramas stockpiled on his watchlists and spends a concerning amount of time practicing Douyin challenges.

One benefit of having a lot of free time is that they kiss more often. Not just the quick, little pecks they steal in between their respective tasks and other obligations, but the kind of long, languid kissing that doesn’t have to lead anywhere but doesn’t have to stop, either.

When Hao wakes up? He drags Hanbin back to bed and kisses him silly (because Hao never ever wakes up first and there’s just something about lazy, sleepy-drunk kisses).

After breakfast? He slams his lips over Hanbin’s to get a taste of his coffee (because Hao is too lazy to make his own and Hanbin’s coffee has always tasted better, anyways).

Before lunch? He hugs Hanbin from behind while he stands over the stove, giving him a peck as a thank you for cooking food. (because Hao is passable at best in the kitchen and they value their taste buds too much to subject themselves to his more experimental cooking).

After lunch? Well, you get the point.

By this point, he’s kissed Hanbin so many times he’s lost count, mapped out the shape of Hanbin’s mouth with his own that he can probably start sculpting a clay sculpture of the other’s oral cavity right about now (please don’t verify this).

Though, one thing he’s noticed is that Hanbin doesn’t seem to take it further. It’s not that he pulls away or that he’s uncomfortable—he lets Hao kiss him, lets him crawl into his lap, and lets him press him into the mattress, but he never pushes for more. Hao knows him enough to know that this doesn’t stem from unwillingness: Hanbin’s hands are always searing on his waist and his body responds in ways that can’t be faked.

It’s more on the fact that he seems to be holding back something—he keeps his hands carefully placed, but Hao can feel every twitch of his fingers as he holds back from letting them wander.

Hao is patient (this is a lie, he has never been patient a day in his life), so he just kisses Hanbin silly more often, in hopes that this makes him open up faster. If Hanbin won’t say what’s on his mind, then Hao will have to kiss it out of him.

For today, they've migrated to Hanbin’s room. It’s a perfect afternoon, sunlight hazy but still warm enough to feel nice against the skin. Hao has made himself at home, curled up against Hanbin’s side like a cat who’s found a perfect beam of sunlight. He’s gotten bored of his dramas, so now he’s just scrolling through vertical shortform reincarnated as the lover of the CEO shorts.

"Hyung," Hanbin starts, voice a bit quiet, as if he’s being careful.

Hao lets out a soft, questioning mm? as he looks up at Hanbin, only to find him with his lip caught under his teeth, biting into the flesh.

"Can I fuck you?"

Ohhhh dear. So that’s what’s been brewing up in his little Hanbinnie’s head. Hao’s brain stutters into a halt and realizes why Hanbin has been hesitant around him—he's very much been thinking about this. Maybe letting him rut against Hao’s ass that one time has awakened something in him. Something large and intimidating. Emphasis on large. You see, Hao would be up for it, in theory. Let Hanbin have his way with him, if not for one significant detail: his penis. If his penis was a just bit more… smaller. And… Oh dear, he’s spiraling again.

"Hah…" Hao breathes out, which is not a proper response and also not a no.

"Hm?" Hanbin hums, looking down at him with hopeful eyes, and Hao feels his resolve crumbling.

Hao lifts himself up from Hanbin's side, pushing himself up on one arm as he settles his weight and slings the other arm over Hanbin's torso. He tucks his chin on the plush of Hanbin's chest, looking up at him through his lashes, batting them in the way he knows makes Hanbin's brain short-circuit. "I'm a bit tired, Hanbinnie…" is what he settles for, which is very much a lie given the fact that all Hao did today was lounge on the couch and roll around in bed. He has never been less tired in his entire life.

"It's okay," Hanbin replies immediately, taking a gentle finger and sliding Hao's bangs aside to get a better view of his face. "We can just hang out."

All they’ve been doing is hanging out these days. Hao feels a flicker of guilt, because Hanbin is being so nice about it and Hao is being a coward about something he knows, logically, would probably be fine. Probably. "No, I didn't mean it that way," Hao refutes. He tilts his head sideways, enough for the plush of his cheek to press against Hanbin’s stomach. "I meant we could do other things. I can suck you off, for one."

You see, it’s simple arithmetic.

Hao doesn’t want to use his butthole. Which is fine, because there are multiple holes present in the human body.

What is the closest hole that resembles the flesh of his butthole? The mouth hole. The oral cavity. Additionally, they are made up of the same tissue. Scientifically, it is an equivalent experience.

To add to this, semantically, if Hao lets Hanbin fuck his mouth, it would technically still be Hanbin fucking Hao. The verb is still the same and the key component of dick-in-a-hole is preserved. Also, there is only a one letter difference between suck and fuck.

This is exactly why Hao graduated with Latin Honors. Bravo. He wants to go back in time to when he graduated, storm up the stage, and demand a medal for this level of mental gymnastics.

"We really don’t have to do anything," Hanbin says. His voice is so gentle and understanding, and Hao wants to both cry and bite him. It pisses him off. Only slightly, because being pissed at Hanbin in this state is equivalent to kicking a newborn puppy.

"Don't tell me what I want," Hao huffs, now energized with a little bit of newfound spite.

Spite at Hanbin for being so reasonable.

Spite at himself for being so scared.

Spite at the universe for giving his boyfriend a penis of such terrifying proportions.

His eyes catch on the tent of Hanbin’s sweatpants. Tent is a bit lacking of a term, actually. It’s a whole military campsite down there.

With a gulp that he hopes Hanbin doesn't hear, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Hanbin's sweatpants and slides them down, with the helpful assistance of the man above him lifting his hips just enough to make it easier. The fabric pools around Hanbin's thighs, and the first thing that greets Hao is dick. Not even underwear.

Of course a military campsite needs to have its soldiers. Hanbin's dick very much resembles one, with how it stands at rapt attention with the presence of its commander (Hao).

"I'm sorry…" Hanbin says, his voice small and embarrassed. When Hao glances up at his face, his cheeks are flushed a deep red. "I've been going to the gym more often so that means I've been changing a lot. I ran out of underwear this morning…"

If Hao were a bit more present, he’d offer to tag along to the gym one of these days. He'd suggest that he could just watch Hanbin lift weights: eyeing the ripple of his back muscles, the flex of his arms, and the way his thighs strain against his shorts. What will Hao do? Walk on a treadmill and pretend he's there for his own health. But he doesn't say any of that. He just nods, still staring at the penis in front of him. Iss it just him, or does it seem to stand up straighter the longer Hao stares? Is it possible for it to get bigger?

"Ah— Hao-hyung. You really don't—" Hanbin starts, his hand twitching like he wants to cover himself.

"Please shut up. I don't like repeating myself."

"Yes," Hanbin breathes out, eyes wide and entranced. His body obediently goes pliant under Hao.

Hao takes his length into his hand, just to get himself more acquainted with the length up close and partially to buy some time. He gingerly traces a finger through a prominent vein on the base of his cock, following it all the way to the head. He circles his thumb on the frenulum, eyes on Hanbin as his breath hitches and his hips twitch upward involuntarily.

Steeling himself, he presses a kiss on the head, then another—gauging its size as compared to his mouth. He feels Hanbin's precum slick on his lips, warm and bitter, and he licks it off using his tongue. It's a bit unpleasant, the taste strange, but Hao swallows it anyway.

Emboldened, he takes Hanbin's head fully into his mouth, pulling a stunted groan from the other. He sucks around it, moistening the length with his spit, tongue prodding against Hanbin's sensitive slit, circling his tongue to test the waters, then pulling away.

Hanbin's breath has noticeably gotten more frantic, arm thrown over his eyes as he tenses against the mattress like he's trying very hard not to thrust up into the wet heat of Hao's mouth. "You're so… It's so good…"

Hao hums at this, relishing in Hanbin's reaction, storing it away in his brain. They stay connected through a string of saliva that immediately breaks when Hao leans back to press his mouth against the side of Hanbin's dick, trailing kisses up the length like he's saying hello to each individual inch. He lets the spit pooled in his mouth drip down, moistening the length—wrapping his hand around the base and spreading his saliva around in smooth, even strokes. Once he's done, he laps at Hanbin's dick, slowly moving up until he's reached the head again, then pulls away with a soft pop.

He gulps down a deep breath.

Something about Zhang Hao is that he's a fast learner. If he was able to bag himself a bachelor's degree in Geology (boring ass major), surely, sucking dick wouldn't be impossible? If dick was on the Moh's hardness scale, it would have a value of less than one. Probably. He's not sure if dick quantifies as a rock. Hanbin's is rock hard though, that's for sure.

He tries his best to keep his breathing even (though hyperventilating is a bit tempting), wrapping his lips around Hanbin's cock, making sure that his teeth are tucked in slightly under his lips, because god forbid he accidentally bites Hanbin's dick off. He inhales the same time he takes Hanbin deeper, right up to the back of his tongue—swallowing around Hanbin as he tightens his grip on the sheets under him.

Hanbin lets out a stunted moan, groaning when Hao bobs his head experimentally. He slides a hand in Hao's hair—but he doesn't push, just keeping a hand on Hao like he can't bear to be apart. Hao tries to take him in deeper, and it doesn't take much for Hanbin's dick to poke against the back of his mouth, flush against the roof, filling every available space.

He tries to swallow around it and immediately gags, throat constricting around the intrusion. Hanbin moans—a high. keening sound—when Hao's throat pulses around him. The reflexive movement has tears pooling in his eyes, but he blinks them away.

If Hao's mouth was significantly emptier, he'd say something about how filthy it is that Hanbin likes it when Hao is gagging around him.

He pulls off to catch his breath a little, hand still firm at Hanbin's base, and he's shocked to find that he's not even taken half in. Wait. No. That can't be right.

Just to test his hypothesis, he takes Hanbin in his mouth again, bobbing his head as he keeps his tongue laid flat against the length. He's slow as he does it, keeping his breathing careful just so that he doesn't gag again (because wow, that is not pleasant).

He places his hand right at the threshold of where his mouth reaches, marking the spot. Hanbin is tense all throughout this, every muscle in his body pulled taut—and all Hao can hear is hyung, hyung, hyung, falling from Hanbin's lips like a prayer.

When he pulls away to check, oh yeah. That is not halfway. Not even close. Maybe a third, at most.

Haha. What the fuck. Hao is suddenly intimidated.

The tears in his eyes from holding back the urge to gag suddenly multiply, and he can't stop one from sliding out and dripping against his cheek, leaving a trail on his skin.

"Hao-hyung?" Hanbin asks, brows pinched and eyes wide, the arousal in his voice momentarily eclipsed by something softer. "Are you okay? You don't have to take it all in."

"Hanbin-ah," Hao's voice shakes. Comically, he sniffles, the sound wet and pathetic. "Bin-ah…"

Hanbin's hand slides from his hair to his cheek, cupping his face with a tenderness that makes Hao want to cry even harder, wiping the tears that spill out with the pad of his thumb.

"Tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm scared of your dick."

"You're scared of my what?" Hanbin asks, like he's not sure if he heard correctly.

"Dick."

Hao watches as Hanbin's mouth falls open, slightly agape, and Hao can't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth like a dam broken open.

"You see, I don't know if you've noticed, but your dick is really big. And like, I know a lot of people like it when a dick is big, but not me okay? Like, if you put that in me, will the muscles of my asshole stay the same? What if you leave me wide and gaping? What if I can't shit normally anymore? What if it just slides out with no resistance because my body has permanently adjusted to accommodate your enormous penis? Like, my butt is not a vagina, obviously. And like, vaginas are meant to support childbirth, yeah? So they can, uhm, stretch pretty wide and then bounce back? But my asshole was not designed for that. My asshole was designed for one job and one job only, I'm not gonna say what, and that job is not taking an armful of dick. And uhm. I'm scared that if I let you fuck me, it'll really hurt and I'll cry and it'll ruin the mood. But I'm ruining the mood right now, aren't I? Haha… Like it's not like I don't want you to fuck me, I think about it a lot, actually. Like, embarrassingly often. But you get it, right? Maybe you don't. How could you get it? You have the dick—"

"Hao-hyung," Hanbin interrupts, his voice gentle, and Hao's mouth snaps shut so fast his teeth clack. "You should have just told me."

Hao bites his bottom lip, wearing the skin between his teeth, and Hanbin's eyes follow the motion like a magnet. "I… Sorry. It's ridiculous—"

"It's not," Hanbin sighs, the words coated with a mix of fondness and exasperation. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

Hao nods. His face is still flushed from crying, still blotchy and red in a way that he'd normally hide, but he's too exhausted to care about hiding anything anymore.

Hanbin breathes out a deep, heavy sigh that seems to deflate his whole body. "Okay, okay. We can talk about this when we're more… decent. Hyung, I'm still hard."

Hao's eyes slowly leave Hanbin's face, trailing down his chest, down his stomach, down to where Hanbin's dick is.

Which is somehow still ramrod straight?

Hao's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. "How are you still hard? Did me crying not turn you off?"

Hanbin quickly glances to the side, then back at Hao. "The weather is really nice today."

Hao stares at him, unblinking. "We have one window. And it's closed."

Hanbin doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he wraps a hand around himself, dick still pointing straight toward Hao like a compass searching for true north. Hao lifts himself up to help, already reaching out, but Hanbin's hand—which had migrated back to his hair—stops him from moving any further, gently but firmly jostling Hao back into place.

Before Hao can even ask what the hell is happening, Hanbin speaks.

"Just… stay there."

Hanbin's hand moves around his length, slow at first, then faster, and the quiet, wet sound of it reverberates through the small room, filling the silence between them. Hanbin's eyes are piercing as he gazes—no, peers—at Hao from above his own dick, watching him with an intensity that makes Hao's stomach flip.

Is this guy seriously jerking off in front of Hao's face?

Hao blinks in disbelief, but Hanbin's hand keeps moving, rapid and precise as he circles his palm around the head of his cock, tugging with a rhythm that seems practiced. He lets out little, pleasured sighs—soft, breathy sounds—and his eyes never leave Hao's face.

The thing is, with how fast Hanbin is doing it, it looks like it hurts. It looks almost brutal, the way his hand twists at the tip, the way his grip tightens on each upstroke. But it doesn't deter Hanbin at all. If anything, it seems to spur him on.

It takes one, then another stroke before he spills against his palm, body tensing and then going slack all at once. Hanbin slumps down on the bed, chest heaving, and all Hao can do is stare. Arousal is still lit up, flaming in his belly, hot and insistent, and watching Hanbin's orgasm seems to have dialed it up a notch, adding fuel to a fire that hadn't even started to die down.

"Okay," Hanbin breathes, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "Your turn."

"My huh?"

Hanbin pats the space beside him, and Hao reluctantly crawls over, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Once Hao's settled beside Hanbin, the other pulls him in for a sweet kiss. It tastes like Hanbin, familiar and warm, and Hao melts into it.

Hanbin shuffles across the bed, settling himself in between Hao's thighs. He pulls Hao's pants down alongside his underwear in one smooth motion, leaving Hao exposed and shivering under his gaze. He nibbles against Hao's thighs, nosing against the sensitive skin where thigh meets hip, making Hao jump beneath him.

Then, without warning, he takes Hao's weeping cock in his mouth.

It's not like Hao is abysmally small, though compared to Hanbin, he might as well be. His cock is sizeable enough, comfortably sitting around the average length of an Asian man. Which is, not that much, actually, when you start comparing.

But Hanbin takes him in like he was born for it, like his mouth was made specifically for this, and Hao can't stop himself from moaning at the hot, wet heat surrounding him. He holds back from jerking his hips, holds back from burying himself in Hanbin's throat, and it takes every ounce of self-control he has. His hand flies to Hanbin's hair, to anchor himself, but his fingers twitch around the roots, fighting the urge to grip at Hanbin's scalp.

Just then, Hanbin pulls away, lips still slick and shiny with saliva. "You can pull. I like it."

Hao is suddenly learning so much about his boyfriend today.

When Hanbin takes him in again, Hao immediately pulls Hanbin flush against him, nose poking against his skin, and Hanbin lets out a garbled moan around his cock—and okay, he really was serious about liking it. The vibration of it travels straight up Hao's spine.

Hao cries out when Hanbin moves his tongue against him just right, when he pauses and gives extra loving against where he's most sensitive, that spot just under the head that makes Hao's vision go white at the edges. Right when Hao is about to spill over the edge, when he can feel the tension coiling tight and hot in his belly, Hanbin pulls away completely. Hao lets out a desperate whine at the loss of sensation, hips twitching upward seeking friction that isn't there anymore.

"Where's your lube?" Hanbin asks.

"Guh," Hao manages, which isn't a word at all.

"Words, hyung."

"Uh— closet, where I keep my underwear." Hao pauses, brain slowly catching up. "How did you know I have lube?"

"Actually, I didn't," Hanbin confesses, already getting off the bed, his footsteps padding softly to the closet. "I guessed."

"Why do you need it?"

"Can I finger you?" Hanbin asks instead of answering, already rummaging through the drawer.

"You're already getting the lube though?"

"There are a lot of other uses for lube. That's not an answer, hyung."

"Argh, fine, just—" Hao bites his lip, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "Yeah. I'd like it."

Hanbin beams, settling down back to where he was in between Hao's thighs. The lube clicks open, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room, and a weird mix of anticipation and nerves settles in Hao's belly. Hanbin warms the lube using his fingers, rubbing them together until it's no longer cold.

He presses a soft kiss on Hao's thigh. "I'll start with one finger, okay?"

"Okay," Hao nervously answers.

Hanbin slides his finger in, slow and careful, and the first thought that goes through Hao's mind is that his fingers are a bit thicker than Hao's. Bonier, maybe, with more defined knuckles. He can feel each one as Hanbin's finger slides deeper, and can feel the slight stretch of it. It's a bit uncomfortable, the way his body instinctively tries to push it out, but Hao is already used to this sensation.

"Is this fine?" Hanbin asks, finger still pressed deep inside Hao.

"Yeah," Hao breathes out.

Hanbin slowly moves his finger around, testing the give of Hao's walls, sliding it in and out to ease Hao into the sensation. Then Hanbin curls his finger, dipping upward—and Hao feels it to his core, a spark of pleasure that shoots straight up his spine.

"Hng— haah— right there—"

He can't stop the moans that spill out of him, his toes curling as Hanbin repeats the motion, hitting that same spot again and again.

When Hanbin slides in another finger, Hao's walls fight harder to accommodate the stretch, clenching and releasing in waves. It isn't excruciating, but it's a lot—it's so much—but it's hard to think about the stretch when Hanbin keeps prodding against his prostate with every curl of his fingers.

"You're so much noisier when you're getting fucked," Hanbin comments, almost offhand, and Hao whines at the comment, face burning. Fuck, maybe he's proving Hanbin's point. He can't help it, not when Hanbin's fingers are doing that and he's looking at Hao like that.

Right when Hao thinks he can't get even louder, Hanbin takes him in his mouth once more—pulling out a shivering, broken moan from Hao—then another, and another.

"Bin-ah—" Hao squeals, head throwing itself to the side from the sensations curling up his spine. "It's too—"

It's too much. It's overwhelming, the dual sensation of Hanbin's fingers inside him and Hanbin's mouth around him, and Hao can't decide whether to rock back onto Hanbin's fingers or fuck upward into his throat. So he just squirms, caught between the two.

Before he can even steel himself to beg for more—more what, he doesn't know—his orgasm crashes into him like a freight train, sudden and devastating. His hips shiver as he rides out his high, pulse after pulse of pleasure that leaves him gasping. His eyes are screwed shut as he trembles against the mattress, and Hanbin doesn't pull himself away from his cock or take his fingers out, just stays there, feeling Hao shake and his walls pulse around him.

Hao is a complete mess when Hanbin finally pulls away, every muscle in his body lax and reduced into a puddle against the mattress. He can barely keep his eyes open as he blinks against the light, eyes fighting to focus itself as he stares dazedly up at Hanbin.

"You came a lot," Hanbin comments. He crawls to Hao's side, body slamming into the sheets as he lands beside Hao on the bed.

"Thank you for the info," Hao manages to butt back, though it comes out weak. He turns sideways and slumps against Hanbin, nose smushed against his chest, eyes closing as he breathes in the familiar scent of him.

(Suddenly, Hao's eyes fly open. "Wait, did you swallow my cum???"

"Hyung, I'm hard," Hanbin says, not answering the question at all.

"Just jerk off again.")

They talk about it on the couch, with Hao's foot perched on Hanbin's lap, with the other massaging his feet throughout the overdue conversation. The television plays softly in the background, but the noise fills the silence between sentences, making the weight of the topic feel a little lighter. Hanbin's thumb presses into the arch of his foot with practiced pressure, and he wonders when exactly they became the kind of couple who could have conversations like this without either of them running away.

("Mmh… That's okay, but also, Hanbin-ah, where did you learn all this?"

Hanbin's fingers pause mid-massage, and for a moment, Hao thinks he's not going to answer. A flush creeps up Hanbin's neck, turning his ears a bright pink.

"...Markhyuck fanfiction on AO3.")

Thus starts the Bootcamp For Hao's Booty. Also known as Bootycamp.

It's actually a generous term, given that they don't even have a training program or a curriculum. Hao has agreed to let Hanbin stretch him out slowly, just to get his hole used to taking things. In a more debauched term—used to getting fucked.

Hanbin has taken full advantage of Hao's consent.

(It's not that Hanbin is pushy (it would probably kill him if he ever crosses a line) but the moment Hao said yes, something shifted within him.)

Full advantage in the way that Hanbin would strategically carry lube around him almost all the time. In his jacket pocket, one in his gym bag, packet in his lounge shorts, and maybe a bottle tucked into the side of the couch cushions. The result of this is that Hanbin is never more than a few steps away from being ready to bend Hao over any available surface.

He'd bend Hao over against the counter, keep a hand on his hair as his drool spills out, Hanbin's fingers shoving in his ass while Hao grinds his dick against the cool marble of their kitchen counter. The contrast is dizzying—the cold of the stone against his overheated skin and the warmth of Hanbin's body pressed against his back. Hanbin would murmur encouragement in his ear while his fingers are slick inside him, opening him up. Hao would grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles went white, trying to remember how to form words while Hanbin worked him open.

Sometimes Hanbin would whisk him off his feet—literally scoop him up like he weighed nothing, because he has been nothing but diligent in the gym—then take him apart on the plush bed, edging him again and again to the point that it's almost painful. These nights are the ones that leave Hao the most wrecked. Hao would beg, would sob, would promise Hanbin anything if he would just let him come, and Hanbin would smile a sweet, deceptive smile and say, "Not yet, hyung. We're not done yet."

More occasionally, he'd pull him into his lap while they're on the couch—Hao cushioned on his strong thighs, the television still playing forgotten in the background—and use his broad palms to keep his thighs from closing shut as he drives his fingers into Hao. It's almost domestic, in a strange way. They'd be watching a movie—or at least, pretending to—then Hanbin's hand would start wandering, until suddenly Hao was in his lap and Hanbin's fingers knuckle-deep inside him. Hanbin would press kisses to his shoulder and his neck, all while working him open. Hao would have to bite his own hand to keep from moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

Hao is almost always ruined after Hanbin has his way with him, so more often than not, he doesn't return the favor. At this point, he's convinced that Hanbin gets off on getting him off. People pleaser. Literally.

Hao has lost count of how many times he's come back to himself to find Hanbin already spent—having finished untouched just from watching Hao. It should probably feel weird, being the sole focus of that much attention. Instead, it just makes Hao feel wanted.

A parcel arrives at their shared apartment one otherwise unremarkable afternoon, and after that, Hao (his ass) has never remembered what peace is like. The box is an ordinary cardboard brown, and he almost doesn't think anything of it until he sees the look on Hanbin's face—the one that means Hanbin has done something he's both proud of and slightly afraid of Hao's reaction to.

Hao should have known then, but he still watches Hanbin open the box with trembling fingers to reveal the contents within.

Hanbin ordered a vibrating dildo and a buttplug behind Hao's back.

The toys are sleek and silicone, and Hao stares at them with his mouth agape for a long, long moment before looking up at Hanbin, who is already blushing furiously. "Do you like them?"

Hao's silence stretches on so long that Hanbin's expression shifts from smug to nervous to genuinely scared, and that's when Hao finally reaches out, picks up the buttplug, and says, "You're lucky they're pretty."

The dildo is especially dangerous, given that Hao's prostate is extremely sensitive and Hanbin has had ample time to familiarize himself with how to leave Hao crying and on the edge. Hanbin knows exactly where to press and exactly how much pressure to apply.

The first time Hanbin turns the vibration on while the toy is buried inside him, Hao nearly sobs from the intensity of it, back arching off the bed as his hands scramble for purchase on the sheets.

He'd leave it pressed deep inside Hao, the vibration set to low, then fondle the meat of his ass as he watches Hao squirm and squirm, trying to get it to move inside him but he can't because of course Hanbin's in control. Hao would writhe on the bed, hips rolling helplessly and trying to find any form of relief, but Hanbin would just watch, occasionally leaning down to press kisses on the breadth of Hao's back or the curve of his ass. "You look so pretty like this," Hanbin would murmur, and Hao would hate how much he loved hearing it.

He'd fuck the vibrator into Hao roughly, punching it inside him until he worries that his insides will bruise, the vibration turned up to its highest setting until Hao can't tell where pleasure ends and pain begins. Those sessions are less tender, with Hanbin gripping his hips hard enough to leave fingerprints as he drives the toy in and out, the wet sounds absolutely obscene. Hao would come so hard he'd see stars and slump against the mattress with his mind completely blank. Hanbin would just keep going, chasing another orgasm, then another, until Hao was nothing but a trembling mess.

Then once Hanbin is done with him, he'd slide the plug inside and keep him loose and gaping, his skin slick with lube as Hanbin kisses him all over and wipes him down. The plug is much, much smaller than the dildo, and Hanbin would press it in with gentle hands, pressing kisses to Hao's hipbones and the insides of his thighs as he worked. "There," he'd whisper against Hao's skin. "All nice and full." And Hao would lie there, plugged and spent and thoroughly wrecked.

The more Hanbin fucks him with things that are not his dick, the more Hao is curious about the real thing. Hao keeps endlessly wondering what it would feel like if it were Hanbin's cock instead. The more they practice, the more Hao's body opens up and welcomes the stretch, the more he finds himself thinking: maybe he can have the real thing in him now.

The moment comes on a quiet evening, when Hanbin—fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, wearing nothing but a loose pair of sweats that hung low on his hips—slides a hand under Hao's pajamas. Hao's heart starts pounding in his chest, and the words are out of his mouth before he can talk himself out of them.

"Hanbin-ah. Hyung wants you to put it in today."

Hanbin's hand stills, fingers frozen against the bare skin of Hao's stomach. For a moment, he doesn't move. "Hyung, what now?"

Hao huffs, mostly to cover up his own embarrassment, and slaps Hanbin's hand away from under his pajamas with more force than intended. "Don't make me say it again."

"Sorry, sorry," Hanbin giggles. Hanbin presses a kiss on Hao's cheek, another on the corner of his mouth, then another just because he can. His lips are soft and warm, and Hao finds his eyes fluttering shut. "Hyung really is sure? I'd still be happy even if we just… do the usual."

Happy? Yeah, Hao's sure. His butt has taken the brunt of that happiness, has been stretched and filled and played with in ways he never could have imagined.

"Mhm," Hao hums, taking a hand and sliding it in Hanbin's damp locks, using the bluntness of his fingers to scratch Hanbin's scalp. Hanbin's eyes flutter half-closed at the sensation, a soft sound escaping his throat, and Hao feels a surge of affection so strong it almost hurts. "Wanna feel you in me, Binnie."

"Okay." Hanbin beams, and Hao could swear he was vibrating with barely contained excitement. "I can do that."

Hanbin slides the bedside drawer open, taking out the lube and a condom using one hand while the other remains splayed across Hao's stomach. He climbs over Hao, arms bracketing him in, and presses a proper kiss on Hao's mouth.

He bites down gently on Hao's upper lip with the ridges of his teeth, just hard enough to make Hao's breath hitch, and then he slips his tongue inside when Hao moans. Their tongues entangle slowly, brushing against each other in a rhythm that makes Hao's toes curl against the sheets.

Hao thought Hanbin would jump at the opportunity of finally getting to put his dick inside Hao. That maybe he'd be eager and maybe a little clumsy in his enthusiasm, but instead, he takes his time, mouthing against Hao languidly as if they have all the time in the world. He kisses like he's savoring Hao, watching the way Hao's breath catches when Hanbin's tongue sweeps against his.

When they finally part, Hao instinctively reaches up at the loss of the sensation—lips chasing after Hanbin's—but Hanbin holds him down with a palm flat on his chest.

"Can you turn around for me?" Hanbin asks, awfully gentle. "It'll be easier for me to stretch you out."

Hao obediently turns over, arching his back into the bed as he buries his face into a plush pillow. The position feels vulnerable, but he feels oddly safe. He feels the bed dip as Hanbin's knees settle themselves behind him, the mattress shifting under them.

He playfully jiggles his butt, just to break the tension, and the action makes Hanbin laugh. Hanbin rewards him with a playful smack to his ass, but his hand doesn't leave Hao's skin afterward. Instead, his palm slides upward, warm and broad, then sneaks under Hao's pajama shirt, bunching up the fabric until it reveals the breadth of Hao's back. Hao shivers a little at the cold air hitting his exposed skin, goosebumps rising along his arms.

Hanbin leans over him, his weight pressing Hao further into the mattress, and his hand drifts from Hao's back around to his chest, fingers finding one of his nipples almost immediately. They've already pebbled from the cold, and the touch makes Hao gasp.

"Hanbin-ah…" Hao scolds, though the word comes out breathy, stripped of any real heat as Hanbin uses his index finger to circle around the nub. Hanbin's in a perfect position now, draped over Hao's back, and Hao can feel Hanbin's hardening cock pressing against the cleft of his ass through both of their clothes. Hanbin slowly rocks against him, a lazy, grinding motion that makes Hao twitch, one hand still groping at his chest while his face buries itself in Hao's neck, breathing him in.

"Feels so good, hyung," Hanbin mutters against his skin, lips brushing the shell of Hao's ear, and then he presses a kiss there.

"Mmngh—" Hao moans, grinding back against Hanbin, relishing in the feeling of the other chubbing up behind him. "Would feel even better inside me."

Hanbin's hips stutter for just a moment, his composure cracking, and then he hoists himself up, pressing one last kiss to Hao's neck. "Who am I to say no to hyung?"

Once Hanbin parts from Hao, he places his hands on Hao's waist, stroking up and down with his palms in slow, soothing motions. Then he slides his thumb under the waistband of Hao's pajama pants and underwear, hooking the fabric and starting to pull them down. He gets them halfway down Hao's thighs before his hands freeze completely.

"Why?" Hao asks cheekily, his smile hidden under the pillow, voice dripping with false innocence as Hanbin grows silent behind him.

"Hyung is full of surprises, isn't he?"

His fingers wrap around the base of the buttplug that's already buried in Hao—which Hao had slipped in earlier, while Hanbin was in the shower. Hanbin slides it out shallowly, just a centimeter or two, then thrusts it back in.

The motion makes Hao gasp against the pillow.

"Ungh— I just wanted to… Hah— be ready," Hao replies, the words tangling together as Hanbin repeats the motion, working the plug in and out in lazy, shallow thrusts.

"I'm going to try something, okay?" Hanbin warns. Before Hao can even ask what he's planning to do, Hanbin slides a lube-slick finger inside him while the buttplug is still in Hao, the stretch sudden. Hao's body immediately tenses at the sensation, but it surprisingly doesn't hurt. Or, it doesn't hurt as much as Hao was expecting, given how much he's been stretched open over the past few weeks.

"Does this hurt?" Hanbin asks, shallowly thrusting his finger.

"Not that much—but— nngh—" Hanbin moves his finger once more, burrowing itself deeper, and the angle makes the plug press insistently on his prostate with a pleasure so sudden that Hao's vision goes white for a moment. "Take it out, Hanbin—" he whimpers pathetically, hands fisting in the sheets. "Please—"

Hanbin immediately complies, sliding his finger out of Hao carefully. Then he takes the base of the plug and slides that out too, pulling it free in one smooth motion that leaves Hao feeling strangely empty. Hao feels his hole flutter at the loss—gaping wide and hungry now that nothing is filling it, clenching around nothing, desperate to be full again.

"Your hole is so greedy now, hyung," Hanbin comments, and there's a bit of wonder in his voice, like he can't believe what he's seeing. He slides a finger in with no effort at all, digit sinking up to the second knuckle, and Hao's hips instinctively grind back against it to try to get it to bury itself even deeper. "It just swallows me right up."

"Whose fault is— ahh—" Hao starts, but the words die in his throat as Hanbin slides another finger inside him, two now, stretching him open just a little more. And then Hanbin crooks them just right, immediately knocking against his prostate with the kind of precision that only comes from weeks of practice.

"Whose what?" Hanbin teases, and Hao can clearly hear the smile on Hanbin's face.

Hao doesn't respond out of spite, burrowing his face even deeper in the pillow and clenching his jaw shut.

"Won't talk now?" Hanbin asks, and his voice is syrupy-sweet. "It's okay, I have other ways to make you talk."

Hanbin slowly slides his fingers out of Hao, almost all the way out, then thrusts back in. It doesn't take long for him to establish a pace, fingers pumping in and out of Hao in a steady rhythm, lube squelching throughout the room as Hanbin fucks him open. Hao gasps with every movement in him, breathy sighs leaving his mouth.

When Hanbin slides the third finger in, it takes a little bit more effort but not much.

"Hyung, you can probably take a fourth," Hanbin breathes—more like observes. If Hao was a bit more coherent, he'd hit Hanbin with a pillow and tell him yeah, it's because you keep fingerbanging me like it's your full-time job. But he can't form words right now, so all he does is moan and press his hips back against Hanbin's hand.

As if testing his hypothesis, Hanbin slides a fourth finger in. It stretches Hao so much and it feels full but not enough at the same time. His body wants more even as it trembles at the brink of too much, wants Hanbin's cock even as his hole clenches desperately around Hanbin's fingers.

Hao loses track of time with his face pressed against the pillow, the world narrowing down to the sensation of Hanbin's fingers inside him—the way they prod against his hole, brush against his prostate on every other stroke, and the way Hanbin grips his hips hard.

He only comes to when Hanbin slides his fingers out and his pillow is full of drool. Hanbin gently coerces him to turn over, large hands guiding his hips, until Hao is flat on his back, blinking against the sudden brightness of the light.

Immediately, he takes his drool-addled pillow and holds it over his face.

"Bin-ah," he pleads, voice muffled by the pillow. "Can't you just… put it in from the back?"

Hanbin lets out a questioning sound, something between a hum and a laugh, as he finishes sliding Hao's pajama pants off his legs—leaving Hao's legs bare and exposed. "It'll be easier for you to take it like this. And I can tell if you're hurting if I can see your face," he explains, and there's logic there, Hao knows there's logic there, but—

"But—" Hao starts.

"But?"

"It's embarrassing…" Hao retorts weakly, the words barely audible through the pillow. It's a bit stupid, given that Hanbin has seen every inch of his body more times than Hao can count, but this is different. This is the first time he'll actually be taking in Hanbin's incredibly, impossibly, almost comically large cock, and being on his back means Hanbin will be able to see his face all throughout this very, very vulnerable time.

"Hyung," Hanbin pleads, and his voice has gone soft, almost whiny, and it's oddly reminiscent of the meows of a wet cat—pitiful and impossible to ignore. "I want to see you when I put it in." His fingers find Hao's wrists, tugging at the pillow. "Please? I want to see your face."

Hanbin slides the pillow down just enough for Hao to peek at his face, and what he sees makes something in his chest clench. Hanbin's expression is pathetic, eyes shiny and wide as they gaze toward Hao, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Begrudgingly—with as much dignity as he can muster, which isn't much given that he has his pants off—Hao removes the pillow from his face and sets it aside, making an effort not looking at Hanbin's triumphant smile.

Hanbin immediately scoops him up, rearranging them both. He kisses Hao deeply, then takes the backs of his knees and pushes them up, folding Hao almost in half. His thumbs stroke the seam of where Hao's legs fold, right against the sensitive skin behind his knees, and the sensation makes Hao shiver. The kisses aren't deep now, just slow, reassuring pecks that land on his lips, his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. Each one makes Hao melt a little further into the sheets, his body relaxing despite the vulnerable position.

Hanbin pulls away, just enough to look into Hao's eyes. His own are dark, pupils blown wide. "You're still sure?"

"Mhm," Hao hums affirmatively. "Kiss?" he puckers his lips.

Hanbin laughs at this, and gives Hao one last kiss, soft and sweet, before shuffling out of his own shorts. His cock springs free, already hard and leaking, and Hao's mouth goes dry at the sight of it.

"Hold yourself open for me?" Hanbin asks, the words muffled by the condom wrapper in his mouth as he tears it open with his teeth.

Hao watches him, entranced, unable to look away as Hanbin rolls the condom down his length. His hands curl against his own thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin as he pulls himself open, presenting himself.

Hanbin slicks himself up with a copious amount of lube, the liquid dripping down to his balls, and then he shuffles over Hao, positioning himself between his spread thighs. His hand is wrapped around the base of his dick, guiding it forward, and Hao can feel the tip pressing against his hole—hot and prodding.

"Hao-hyung," Hanbin murmurs, eyes dark as he gazes against his cock pressing against Hao's hole—as if entranced. "Are you still sure?" He asks one last time.

"Hanbin-ah," Hao shudders, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he rocks back against Hanbin, just enough to make the head of Hanbin's cock slide into him just a few centimeters in. The motion drives twin moans out of both of them, Hao's high and breathy and Hanbin's low and guttural. "Just put it— ah—"

Hao is shocked by how easily he opens up. The stretch is so much, more than any toy or finger has ever given him, but at the same time it's bearable. It tests his limits in a way that's almost pleasurable, hovering right on the edge between too much and just enough. Hanbin's head pops inside, and Hao scrambles to ground himself against the sheets, his hands fisting in the fabric as his whole body trembles.

Hanbin, Hanbin, Hanbin, is what leaves his mouth, brain too muddled to think of anything coherent.

The slide is slick and Hao can feel how wet it is when Hanbin spears in deeper. His walls spasm around the intrusion, and he feels Hanbin's hips stutter against him.

"Hyung—" Hanbin pants, palms searing as they grip against the meat of Hao's thighs. "It feels so good— Hah—" His voice cracks on the last word, and Hao realizes with a jolt that Hanbin is just as affected as he is.

Hanbin's hips slide themselves deeper, another inch, then another, then fuck, it just feels like his dick just keeps going with no end and all Hao can do is take.

"You're squeezing me so tight, hyung," Hanbin says reverently. "I'm going to put it in all at once, okay?"

"Waitwaitwait—" Hao wails as Hanbin slides the rest of his dick into him in one smooth motion. The circumference of his cock is so thick that it presses right against Hao's prostate on the way in, the motion making Hao's vision go white and his back arch off the bed. The sound he makes isn't even human—it's something keening and animalistic, punched out of him by sheer force.

It feels so good. It feels too good. Hao is so dizzy as his walls violently spasm against Hanbin—white-hot pleasure coursing through his brain and frying all rational thought he's ever had as he's driven over the edge. Before he knows it, his cock is spurting all over himself, ropes of cum landing messily all over his stomach.

"Hah…" Hanbin breathes, pulling back just enough to look down at the mess Hao has made of himself. "Did you just cum from me putting it in?"

"No—" Hao sobs, tears leaking out of his eyes by how overwhelmed he is. He can feel his face burning with humiliation as his body clenches around Hanbin's cock, still hard and deep inside him. "I didn't— I really didn't—"

"Then what's this?"

Without waiting for an answer, Hanbin rocks his hips into Hao, a shallow thrust that jostles him into the bed and makes the sensation worse but it's so good, so good, and Hao can't stop the broken moan that falls from his lips

"I didn't—" Hao's hands fly to his face, palms pressing against his wet cheeks, rubbing uselessly at the tears that keep coming. The action makes his legs go loose, his thighs falling open wider, and Hanbin's hands immediately fly to his waist to hold him steady, fingers digging into the soft flesh there.

"It's okay," Hanbin mutters darkly, voice dropping an octave as he slides his length out of Hao until only the head remains. "Your body is more honest than you, so I'll just listen to it instead of your mouth."

It's the only warning Hao gets before Hanbin slides back into him in a rough slam, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal motion that punches the air out of Hao's lungs.

This is nothing to what Hanbin's put him through before. This feels like a thorough ravishing, like Hanbin has been holding himself back for weeks and months and now he's truly allowing himself to let go. And Hao loves it. He loves every second of it.

Hanbin's dick punches into him relentlessly, the copious amount of lube making the slick sound echo loudly in the room, punctuated by the slap of skin and Hao's broken sound. He can feel himself leaking around Hanbin's cock and making a mess around his thighs.

"Sorry— Hyung, it just feels so good—"

Hao can't do anything but shiver as Hanbin plugs him up, the head of his cock grinding against that sensitive spot inside him with every movement, dragging against his walls again and again until all his hole can do is cling onto it desperately, trying to keep Hanbin inside even as Hanbin pulls back.

Hanbin's hands on his hips drag him back onto his cock with every thrust, jostling Hao's body like a ragdall. And oh— Hao just feels so used, so completely and thoroughly taken, but the worst thing about it, is that he's loving every single second.

Hanbin's pace is rhythmic, cock sliding deep into Hao steadily, never letting up as all Hao can let out are staccato moans of ugh, ugh, ugh, each thrust knocking another sound out of him, voice breaking with every exhale.

It hits him that it doesn't even hurt.

Hao should be in pain. But instead, it just feels so good—the heat pooling into his stomach curling into a large, burning flame that threatens to consume him whole. Hanbin's sweat drips onto him, droplet after droplet landing on his chest and even to his face. Everything is so hot, so slick, so overwhelming, and Hao wants more and more and more—

"Bin-ah," he wails, his nails scratching desperate lines down Hanbin's arms, leaving red marks that will sting later. "I can't, ungh— take it— I'm cumming— I'm cumming again—

Like a dog released from its leash, Hanbin becomes more unrestrained. He drives into Hao now with the single-minded goal of pleasure, chasing his own release and Hao's both at once. His thrusts are sloppy, desperate, his rhythm stuttering as he feels Hao's walls start to flutter around him.

Hao sobs wetly, his body spasming as his cock spurts out clear liquid this time, mixing into his earlier release and spreading across his stomach. His vision goes white at the edges, and for a moment he's not sure if he's still breathing.

Hanbin, eyes transfixed by the sight beneath him, splays a hand flat on Hao's stomach, pressing down just enough to feel himself moving inside. The pressure makes everything more intense, and Hao can feel every ridge of Hanbin's cock dragging against his walls.

"Hyung, shit—" he chokes out, voice breaking. "I can feel you here. I can feel myself inside you."

The sound Hanbin makes is high and desperate as he drives into Hao one last time, his cock twitching deep inside as he spills in thick, pulsing waves of cum inside him.

Hao feels his head spinning, stars bursting behind his eyelids. His body twitches with aftershocks, his cock jerking weakly one last time before he slumps bonelessly against the bed, completely spent. He can feel Hanbin’s cum filling the condom in pulses, lube leaking out around where they're still joined.

Hao feels as if he's floating, disconnected from his own body His brain is so thoroughly fucked out that he can't process anything other than the soft kisses being pressed to his cheeks and the soothing whispers that Hanbin breathes into his ear. Good, you did so good, I've got you, I've got you, hyung.

Haha. Zhang Hao is ruined for every other dick in the world.

("Hyung, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry—" Hanbin pleads, Knees knocking against the floor as he bows so low his forehead nearly touches the ground.

"Hanbin-ah," Hao's voice is hoarse as he placates Hanbin. He shifts sideways to avoid pressure against his aching backside. "If you're really sorry… Cook me breakfast. And carry me to the kitchen, I really can't move…")