Work Text:
Jiahao tossed his iPad onto his messy duvet and let out a heavy, frustrated breath. The silence in his room was getting on his nerves. He stood up, his legs feeling heavy, and padded toward the door. He knew the dorm layout like the back of his hand. Down the hall, past Leo’s room, was the space Geonwoo and Sanghyeon shared.
He knew Sanghyeon wouldn't be there. The maknae was basically a permanent fixture in Anxin and Xinlong’s room lately. Jiahao pushed the door open without turning on the light. He didn't need to. He headed straight for Geonwoo’s bed, the frame creaking slightly as he climbed onto it.
God, I’m pathetic, he thought, burying his face into the pillow.
It still smelled like him. Jiahao groaned into the fabric, his hands clutching the edges of the pillow until his knuckles turned white. He missed the way Geonwoo would just shove him down and get to work without all the talking. He felt a familiar, sharp ache in his lower stomach. It had been way too long. He started to shift, his hips moving against the mattress in small, restless movements before he finally hiked a leg over the pillow and started grinding down.
He closed his eyes and imagined Geonwoo’s hands on his waist. He let out a shaky whimper and sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he pressed his crotch harder against the bedding. He was hard as a rock, and the friction of his sweatpants against the sheets was making his head spin.
"Fuck," he whispered, the word muffled by the pillowcase. He was desperate and lonely, and the bed felt too big without its owner.
"Arno-hyung?"
Jiahao froze. His heart slammed against his ribs like a trapped bird. He didn't move, his face still shoved into the pillow and his ass still hiked up in the air. Sanghyeon was standing in the doorway, the light from the hallway casting a long, skinny shadow over the bed. He was supposed to be downstairs with the others playing video games.
"Are you... crying?" Sanghyeon asked, stepping further into the room.
Jiahao finally looked up with messy hair and swollen lips. He looked like a wreck. He saw Sanghyeon's eyes drop down to where his hips were still pressed firmly into the bed. The kid wasn't moving or leaving. He was staring with an intensity that made the hair on Jiahao's neck stand up.
"I'm not crying, Sanghyeon," Jiahao snapped, though it came out as a breathless gasp. "Get out."
"I forgot my charger," Sanghyeon said. His voice sounded thicker than usual. "But I didn't expect to find our hyungie doing... that."
Jiahao scoffed, trying to regain some dignity. "Shut up, Sanghyeon. Just get your charger and go back to Anxin's."
But Sanghyeon didn't move. He reached the edge of the bed and let his fingers brush against Jiahao’s knee. "You've been failing for like ten minutes, hyung. I could hear you from the hallway."
Little brat, Jiahao thought, his blood simmering. But the touch on his knee made his stomach flip. He was still so high-strung that even that tiny bit of contact felt like a spark.
"And what if I have?" Jiahao challenged, his eyes narrowing. "You gonna tell Leo? Go ahead."
Sanghyeon reached out again and grazed the back of Jiahao’s thigh. The touch was searing.
The kid has guts, I’ll give him that.
"You're shaking, Arno-hyung," Sanghyeon whispered, leaning down until his breath hitched against Jiahao’s ear. "Is the pillow not doing it for you anymore?"
He leaned in closer, his shadow looming over Jiahao. "I'm not a snitch. But you're making a mess of Geonwoo-hyung's bed." He paused, his gaze dropping to the heavy, obvious bulge in Jiahao's sweats. "You look like you need help," Sanghyeon said, his voice dropping an octave. "And Geonwoo-hyung isn't here to give it to you, is he?"
Jiahao’s eyes widened, his brain finally short-circuiting as he realized the kid was actually going for it when Sanghyeon didn't wait for an answer and suddenly started kicking off his shoes and stripping out of his clothes until they were just a heap on the floor. He tried to scramble off the bed, his palms slipping on the silk sheets, but he wasn't fast enough.
Sanghyeon lunged forward and crawled onto the mattress, his body warm and solid as he moved. Before Jiahao could even get a foot on the floor, Sanghyeon’s arms wrapped around him from behind, hauling him back. Jiahao’s back hit Sanghyeon’s bare chest, the sudden heat of the skin-to-skin contact making him gasp.
"Where are you going, hyung?" Sanghyeon murmured, his voice vibrating against Jiahao’s spine. "We’re just getting started."
Jiahao struggled, his elbows jabbing back, but the younger man was stronger than he looked. He was solid muscle, his grip like iron around Jiahao’s waist. Sanghyeon didn't give him a second to breathe before he shoved his big, calloused hands up under the hem of Jiahao’s shirt.
He didn't hesitate. He palmed Jiahao’s chest, his fingers curling around his tits and squeezing hard. Jiahao let out a strangled sound, his head snapping back against Sanghyeon’s shoulder.
"Stop it, you little shit," Jiahao choked out, though his hands were already losing their grip on the bedsheets.
"Make me," Sanghyeon challenged, his thumbs flicking over Jiahao’s sensitive peaks through the thin fabric of his undershirt.
Jiahao’s knees went weak. The sensation was too much, especially after he’d spent the last twenty minutes working himself into a frenzy. He tried to pull away one last time, but Sanghyeon just squeezed harder, his teeth grazing the shell of Jiahao’s ear.
I should hit him. I should really fucking hit him.
Instead, Jiahao’s head fell back, his body turning to liquid. He felt himself melting into the touch, his own hands coming up to grasp Sanghyeon’s forearms. He was practically vibrating with need, and the feel of Sanghyeon’s bare, racing heart against his back was doing unexplainable things to him.
"That’s it," Sanghyeon whispered, his hands moving in slow, heavy circles over Jiahao’s chest. "Just take it."
Jiahao snapped. The friction and the heat and the sheer audacity of the kid finally broke his resolve. He twisted in Sanghyeon's iron grip, forcing his body around until he was facing the maknae. He didn't give him a second to breathe before he lunged, slamming his mouth against Sanghyeon’s in a hungry, desperate kiss.
It was messy and aggressive. Jiahao’s tongue forced its way past Sanghyeon’s lips, tasting like the energy he’d been bottling up all night.
Sanghyeon flinched back for a split second, his eyes blowing wide in genuine shock. He hadn't expected the hyung to bite back so hard. But the hesitation lasted maybe half a heartbeat. Sanghyeon’s hands flew from Jiahao's chest to the back of his neck, his fingers tangling in the messy strands of hair to keep him close.
Sanghyeon caught up quickly, his tongue meeting Jiahao's with a primal kind of hunger that made Jiahao's head swim. The kiss turned into a battle for dominance, teeth clashing and breaths mingling in the dark room. Jiahao moaned into the younger man's mouth, his hands sliding down Sanghyeon’s bare, smooth back to pull him flush against him.
The height difference didn't matter when they were tangled on the bed like this. Jiahao felt Sanghyeon’s hard length pressing right against his thigh, a reminder that the kid was just as worked up as he was.
Jiahao pulled back just an inch, his lips glistening and his breath hitching. "You think you're so grown up, don't you?" he hissed, his eyes searching Sanghyeon’s dark, blown-out pupils.
Sanghyeon didn't say a word. He just smirked, a cheeky, arrogant look that made Jiahao want to scream and beg at the same time. He reached down, his hand hovering over the waistband of Jiahao’s sweatpants.
"I think I’m exactly what you need right now, Arno-hyung," Sanghyeon whispered, his voice steady even though his heart was hammering against Jiahao's chest. "So stop talking and let me prove it."
Sanghyeon seemed to catch his breath, his eyes softening just enough to remind Jiahao that he was still the same kid who followed him around the practice room. He shifted his weight, hovering over Jiahao with a newfound focus. Without a word, he yanked the rest of Jiahao’s clothes off, tossing the sweatpants and underwear somewhere into the dark corner of the room.
The air hit Jiahao’s bare skin for a second before Sanghyeon leaned back in, his mouth finding one of Jiahao’s nipples. He didn't just lick it. He took it into his mouth and started sucking hard, his tongue swirling around the tip until Jiahao was arching his back and crying out.
"You like that, don't you, Arno-hyung?" Sanghyeon mumbled against his skin, not even waiting for an answer before moving to the other side.
While his mouth stayed busy, Sanghyeon’s large hand wandered down. He found Jiahao’s cock, which was fully hard and twitching with anticipation. As his fingers wrapped around the length, Jiahao noticed the difference in size immediately. Sanghyeon’s hand was massive, making Jiahao feel small and completely handled.
"Can I play with this?" Sanghyeon whispered, though his thumb was already rubbing circles over the leaking tip.
Jiahao couldn't even form words. He just nodded frantically, his fingers digging into the mattress. Sanghyeon started a slow, deliberate stroke, his grip firm and steady. He was being surprisingly gentle now, a sharp contrast to the aggressive way he’d pinned Jiahao down moments ago.
"I can go faster, right?" Sanghyeon asked, his voice low and cheeky as he increased the pace of his hand.
Jiahao felt like he was going insane. The combination of the rhythmic tugging on his cock and the wet heat of Sanghyeon’s mouth on his chest was too much. He was squirming, his legs kicking out as he tried to deal with the overstimulation.
"Sanghyeon, fuck," Jiahao gasped, his head tossing from side to side on Geonwoo’s pillow.
"You're so sensitive, hyung," Sanghyeon noted, his eyes locked on Jiahao's face to watch every twitch of pleasure. "Does it feel better than the pillow?"
He didn't wait for the reply. He just tightened his grip and kept going, his thumb occasionally dipping down to mess with Jiahao’s balls, making the older man let out a high-pitched, broken whimper.
Just as Jiahao’s vision started to spot and his hips began that final, desperate twitch toward the edge, Sanghyeon suddenly let go. The heat of his hand and the wetness of his mouth vanished in a heartbeat.
Jiahao’s body slumped back into the mattress, his breath hitching in a confused, pained sort of gasp. He looked up, his eyes glazed and desperate, to see Sanghyeon standing by the side of the bed. The kid was just looking down at him, his expression calm while Jiahao was a shaking mess of unfulfilled friction.
"What the fuck?" Jiahao managed to choke out, his voice cracking. "Sanghyeon, you can't just stop like that. Get back here."
Sanghyeon didn't move. He leaned over, resting his weight on his palms as he hovered over Jiahao’s trembling form. A small, cheeky smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Does hyungie want me that bad?" Sanghyeon cooed, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. He reached out and brushed a stray hair from Jiahao’s sweaty forehead. "You look so pathetic right now, Arno-hyung. All worked up over a little bit of touching."
Jiahao reached for him, his fingers clawing at Sanghyeon’s bare waist to pull him back down, but the maknae stepped just out of reach. Jiahao let out a frustrated groan, his head thumping back against Geonwoo's pillow. He was so close he could practically taste the climax, and the sudden drop-off felt like a physical blow.
"Finish it," Jiahao hissed, his face flushed deep red. "Sanghyeon, I'm serious."
Sanghyeon tilted his head, his dark eyes scanning Jiahao’s bare, shivering body. The gentle act from before was gone, replaced by a look of pure, hungry intent.
"I'll finish it," Sanghyeon whispered, his voice dropping into that thick, heavy register again. "But I'm tired of using my hands. Would you let Sanghyeonie fuck you, hyung? Please?"
The "please" was a total lie. It wasn't a request. It was a challenge. Sanghyeon was standing there, fully bare and fully ready, watching Jiahao crumble.
Jiahao looked at him, then at the empty space on the bed next to him. He knew he should say no. He knew this was messy and complicated and Geonwoo would probably kill them both. But the ache in his crotch was screaming louder than his brain.
"Just... just do it," Jiahao breathed, his legs falling open in a silent invitation. "Hurry up."
"Really, hyungie?" Sanghyeon asked, his voice dripping with that fake, sweet innocence that made Jiahao’s skin crawl in the best way possible. "You’d actually let Sanghyeonie fuck you?"
He didn't wait for a confirmation. Sanghyeon moved back onto the bed, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of Jiahao’s hips. He grabbed Jiahao’s ankles, his large hands easily circling the bone, and began to spread Jiahao’s legs farther apart. He pushed them back until Jiahao’s knees were practically hovering by his shoulders, exposing everything to the dim light of the room.
I am actually going to let him do this, Jiahao thought, his breath hitching as the cool air hit him.
Sanghyeon stared down at the view with a clinical sort of hunger. He wasn't being shy about it. He reached out and let his fingers trail along the sensitive skin of Jiahao’s inner thighs, watching the way the muscles jumped and shivered under his touch.
"You're so open for me," Sanghyeon whispered, leaning forward until he was hovering over Jiahao’s face again. "Does Geonwoo-hyung make you get like this? Or is it just because you're so desperate tonight?"
Jiahao turned his head away, his face burning. "Shut up and just get on with it," he ground out, his fingers digging into the sheets. "Less talking, Sanghyeon."
Sanghyeon let out a low, breathy chuckle. "Always so bossy, even when you're like this."
He shifted, his weight settling between Jiahao’s thighs. Jiahao could feel the sheer size of him pressing against his entrance, blunt and heavy. It was a slightly terrifying different sensation compared to what he was used to. Sanghyeon reached down, his hand guiding himself to the opening, his eyes never leaving Jiahao's.
"You're tight," Sanghyeon noted, his thumb rubbing a bit of the pre-cum Jiahao had produced over the area to slick it up. "This is going to hurt a little, hyung. But you want it, don't you?"
He didn't give Jiahao time to process the question. He started to push, the tip of him forcing its way past the muscle. Jiahao’s eyes flew open and he let out a sharp, choked-off cry, his hands flying up to grip Sanghyeon’s shoulders. It felt like he was being split in half.
"Sanghyeon—wait," Jiahao gasped, his chest heaving.
"I've got you, hyungie," Sanghyeon murmured, though he didn't stop. He kept up the slow, steady pressure, his face tight with the effort of holding back. "Just breathe. Just take all of me."
Sanghyeon didn't listen to the plea to wait. He kept up that steady, agonizing pressure until he was buried deep inside. Jiahao’s head thrashed against the pillow, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream as his muscles stretched to accommodate the intrusion. Once he was all the way in, Sanghyeon didn't immediately start a rhythm. He just stayed there for a second, letting Jiahao feel every inch of him.
"Look at you," Sanghyeon whispered, his voice sounding entirely too calm for someone currently splitting his hyung open. "You’re taking it so well, Arno-hyung."
Then he started to move. It wasn't the fast, desperate pace Jiahao was craving. It was slow. It was methodical. Sanghyeon pulled out until he was almost gone before shoving back in with a heavy, punishing thud that made Jiahao’s entire body jar.
"Is this what you wanted when you were rubbing yourself on the bed?" Sanghyeon asked, his hands coming down to pin Jiahao’s wrists against the mattress. "Did you imagine it would be this big?"
Jiahao wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up. He wanted to reach up and bite that cheeky smirk right off the kid's face. But every time he tried to form a coherent insult, Sanghyeon would hit a specific spot that made his brain go white. The constant talking was starting to grate on his nerves, yet it was fueling the fire in his gut.
I hate him. I really fucking hate him, Jiahao thought, even as he arched his back to meet the next thrust.
"Answer me, hyungie," Sanghyeon teased, his pace still agonizingly slow, forcing Jiahao to feel every ridge and every stretch. "Do you like hearing my voice while I'm inside you? Does it make you feel like a dirty little secret?"
"Shut... shut up," Jiahao finally managed to moan out, his voice broken and wet. "Just... move faster, you brat."
Sanghyeon chuckled, the sound vibrating through their connected bodies. "Not yet. I want you to remember exactly who is doing this to you."
He leaned down, his sweat dripping onto Jiahao’s chest as he continued that slow, torturous grind. Jiahao was losing his mind. He was so turned on by the sheer audacity of the kid’s commentary, his own cock twitching and leaking against his stomach with every slow slide Sanghyeon took. He was trapped between wanting to punch Sanghyeon and wanting to beg him never to stop.
Sanghyeon picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more frequent. Jiahao’s body was sliding up the bed with every heavy hit, his head slipping off the pillow and nearly slamming into the headboard, his breath coming in jagged, broken sobs.
Sanghyeon noticed the change in rhythm and leaned down, his mouth peppering Jiahao’s neck with hot, wet kisses. He was marking him, his teeth grazing the skin over Jiahao’s pulse point while he continued to drive into him. But when he pulled back to look at Jiahao’s face, he saw the tears welling up in the corners of the older man’s eyes.
"Hyung?" Sanghyeon whispered, not stopping the movement of his hips but softening the impact.
Jiahao let out a shaky, pathetic sob, his fingers clutching at the sheets until they felt like they might rip. The guilt was hitting him all at once. He was lying in Geonwoo’s bed, sniffing Geonwoo’s sheets, and letting their maknae fuck the life out of him. It felt like a betrayal, even if the pleasure was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
"I... I just miss him so much," Jiahao stuttered, the confession tumbling out of his mouth in a wet, broken mess. "I miss Geonwoo so much, Sanghyeon-ah."
He was crying for another man while ironically arching his back to meet Sanghyeon’s next deep thrust. It was a mess. They were a mess.
Sanghyeon cooed at him, his expression shifting into something unnervingly sweet. He reached up and wiped a tear from Jiahao’s cheek with his thumb. "I know, hyungie. I know you and Geonwoo-hyung are in love. Everyone knows."
He leaned down and kissed Jiahao’s forehead, his hips never losing their steady, rhythmic grind. He loved them both, in his own twisted way. He’d been thinking about this since that day in the sauna when he’d massaged Jiahao’s shoulders and felt the tension in his muscles. He’d been sexually attracted to him for months, but he told himself this was an act of mercy. He couldn't bear to see Jiahao so lonely and pathetic without Geonwoo to hold him down.
At least, that was the lie he told himself as he watched Jiahao’s eyes flutter shut.
"It's okay to miss him," Sanghyeon murmured, his voice thick with a mix of comfort and lust. "I'm just taking care of you until he gets back. That's what a good maknae does, right?"
He shoved in deep, bottoming out and making Jiahao let out a high, keening sound that was half-grief and half-ecstasy. Sanghyeon watched him, his own heart racing. He was convincing himself this was for Jiahao's benefit, even as he relished the way Jiahao's body tightened around him at the mention of Geonwoo’s name.