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It didn’t hit him at first.
It made sense, in hindsight. Leaving the company is something that they joked about a lot, so much that it became one of those distant, abstract notions you never think can actually materialize. Time has a funny way of working, though, and the day came faster than Donghyuck could have anticipated, realer than he was prepared for.
He knew—maybe better than anyone—what Mark had been carrying for the past ten years, what he’d sacrificed. The idea that he could finally get to be his own was one that filled him with deep happiness, because Mark deserved it. Mark had the right to it. Mark needed it.
(There were a thousand reasons why he could never ask him to stay, and so he didn’t.)
And so Donghyuck supported him, of course. Cheered him on. He sent him away with a smile, assuring him that they would be fine—that he would. But the magnitude of what he was about to lose was something he’d only come to understand much, much later.
He’d wanted to believe he was a mature, emotionally intelligent person. Donghyuck had hoped, almost childishly, that the tears they’d shed on their final shared stage would be the worst of it. He tried to find solace in the fact that this was the best for Mark, even if it felt like the ground was being pulled from his feet.
(It’s not like Mark was leaving them, after all. Just the idol life, the spotlight.)
The first few days after the announcement felt like wandering through thick fog. ‘It’s going to be okay,' Jeno had told him. ‘We’ll adapt.’ And so Donghyuck tried. Went through his daily routine, forced himself to workout, to eat. He went out live, feeling oddly calm about the whole ordeal, and did his best to pick up the pieces of the fans' hearts that Mark’s departure left scattered on the floor.
It still didn’t feel real. Attending schedules and dance practices was a strange thing. Donghyuck kept stealing glances at the door out of habit, expecting Mark to appear at any minute. Except Mark was never late.
And then—
Everything came crashing down the second week.
The numbness melted away all at once, revealing an ugly, gaping hole in the middle of his chest. Donghyuck woke up in the middle of the night, heaving raggedly, his lungs struggling to get oxygen as the realization finally sank in.
Donghyuck cried, ugly and visceral. He curled up on himself, clawing at his sternum, desperate to make the unbearable pain of loss go away. He rubbed his eyes raw trying to stop the tears from falling, screamed himself hoarse with pleas that came a year too late.
(Pleas that wouldn’t have made a difference.)
Morning found him dozing on and off, the kind of light slumber that resembles more of a brief, merciful break from consciousness than actual rest. Eventually, he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers he didn’t have.
Would Mark have stayed if Donghyuck had shared more of the burden? Had they—the fans, the team, the goddamn company, himself—put too much pressure on him, cornered him with their own expectations? Was there anyone to blame, really? How could Donghyuck blame Mark for wanting some space after ten plus fucking years? How was he ever supposed to move on from Mark stepping away like he wasn’t ripping out a fundamental part of Donghyuck and taking it away with him?
And more importantly—would he ever be able to look at Mark again and not feel this bitterness for leaving him behind after all they’d been through together?
(Not that it mattered. Mark wasn’t reaching out, and Donghyuck told himself, perhaps foolishly, that he’d try contacting him once he was sure his tongue wouldn’t spit out venom, once he no longer felt like tearing his own heart out.
Which could be never, for all he knew.)
Weeks stretched into months. He didn’t know what Mark was doing, and he preferred it that way. He didn’t need to see how happy he was without them, without him, how much they’d held him back. And so Donghyuck did what he knew best—he buried himself into work as diligently as ever, pushing himself beyond the limit just to prevent any chance of emotion surfacing.
It wasn’t enough. It was so much worse. Each one of the schedules with the team pushed him further down the path of resentment, each line originally sung by Mark he had to cover, each center he had to take on only added fuel to the fire, the blatant, unignorable absence keeping the hole in his chest fresh and gaping like it was the first day.
Then came the rumors—and wasn’t it ironic? He was the easiest target for the fans' own resentment, the idiot who was unfortunate enough to stay behind while Mark was God knows where living his best life. It was sickening. It got so bad that he started drawing concerned looks from the members, and hushed comments from the staff. Even Jaemin had traded his teasing jabs for comforting pats in the back, like Donghyuck was someone to be pitied. And maybe he was.
(He shut everyone out. It made the deafening, absolute radio silence from the only person who had a chance to hold him together all the more noticeable.)
He stopped eating when he wasn’t surrounded by people, causing him to drop weight noticeably. He deactivated his social media, and set his lockscreen to a boring floral pattern. Getting up to let the sunlight inside his room was so big of a task he stopped trying altogether.
And finally, when the company forced him on a plane to go shoot content for his next solo album, he didn’t protest. Didn’t even bother checking the destination.
(Group activities were unbearable anyway. It wasn’t the same, not anymore.)
° ° °
New York City was more asphyxiating than he remembered.
It resembled Seoul in a lot of ways, sure. The packed streets, the dull skyscrapers, the never ending noise. It was beautiful, maybe, in the sense things made for performance are. But here, Donghyuck couldn’t help but feel like a ghost—lost and empty and so utterly out of place.
That’s probably why, when his phone pinged with that loud, distinct sound he’d set for Mark’s contact, he felt absolutely nothing.
do not fucking call him
hey
heard you’re on nyc
Donghyuck stared at the screen, whatever his manager was talking about fading into a background buzz.The words blinked back at him, so innocent and devastatingly casual that he thought it had to be a prank. A cruel joke from his mind, a hallucination, anything would’ve made more sense at this point.
He stood there, frozen, looking at the device in his hand like he couldn’t comprehend how it worked anymore. The screen locked automatically for the lack of use, and by the time he realized and unlocked it again, there was another message waiting to mock him.
do not fucking call him
i know you read my message, hyuck
can we meet?
This fucker, honestly.
haechan
okay
do not fucking call him
send me your location
I’ll send someone to pick u up
° ° °
Seeing Mark again after almost six months was like a punch to the lungs. He looked like everything Donghyuck wasnt’t—messy-haired, bare-faced, broader in a way that spoke of full meals, lighter days, and better nights of sleep.
Donghyuck’s stomach twisted, and he tasted sour in the back of his mouth.
“You came,” Mark murmurs, something unsettling gleaming in his eyes. He takes a step aside, gesturing for Donghyuck to come in, and against every good judgment, Donghyuck does.
(The apartment is obviously a provisory place at best, a liminal space, not a home as such. There are multiple boxes piling against every visible corner, notebooks and music sheets scattered everywhere, barely any furniture as far as Donghyuck can see. And Mark’s guitar is lying on the middle of the floor, like Donghyuck had come right in the middle of a songwriting session.)
“Yeah,” Donghyuck replies, still looking around him distractedly. His own voice sounds so distant, underwater. “Getting rid of the staff was a nightmare.”
Mark’s eyes are firmly locked on Donghyuck, following his every move. “Sounds about right.”
“Not that you have to deal with that kind of thing anymore.” Donghyuck brushes a hand along a slew of paper sheets, Korean and English alike thrown into an intelligible mosaic of words. His index finger catches on a distinct sharp edge, causing a small papercut on the delicate skin, but the sting never comes “Why am I here, Mark?” He asks, finally turning to face him.
Mark steps closer, cautious, like a man trying not to scare away a wild animal. And Donghyuck would be offended, maybe, if it wasn’t such an ironic demonstration of their shared history, proof that Mark hasn’t forgotten who exactly he's dealing with. He watches, almost as if it’s happening to another person—how Mark’s slender fingers wrap around his forearm, sliding down until he’s holding Donghyuck’s hand loosely on his own.
Huh. So he can feel his fingers.
“Hyuck.”
Mark’s other hand comes up to his waist, bringing their bodies closer together, the warmth he radiates feeling all too familiar and foreign at the same time.
He blinks.
And that’s when it hits him. Donghyuck jolts back to life, as if waking up from a very heavy, confusing dream. Reality settles, overwhelming and undeniable, and Donghyuck pulls away, recoiling as if he’d been burned. “What the fuck you think you’re doing?” He snaps. The skin Mark touched certainly feels on fire. “Are you insane?”
Mark doesn’t seem affected by his reaction. In fact, he seems satisfied by it. “What, am I not allowed to touch what’s mine?
“Yours?” Donghyuck repeats, thrown off balance. For a moment, he really can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you serious? Is this really what you’re pulling, after everything you—”
“Come on, Hyuck.” Mark steps closer again, forcing Donghyuck to stagger back. “You want me to believe a little distance is all it takes for you to forget us?”
Donghyuck hesitates, overwhelmed by Mark’s closeness and the insanity coming out of his mouth. Us. His mind is reeling, swirling between so many emotions that he can’t really keep up. Mark senses an opportunity in this small moment of weakness and backs Donghyuck against the wall, using his own weight to prevent him from escaping. His right hand closes around Donghyuck’s hipbone, thumb digging into the flesh that peeks above the waistband of his jeans.
“You know exactly why you came here, Hyuckie,” Mark murmurs along his jawline, so gently that Donghyuck almost forgets this is so, so wrong. “Don’t fight it.”
Donghyuck’s fists ball by his sides, shaking. “You don’t have any right to do this.”
“But you want me to.”
“You—”
"Tell me to stop, Hyuck.” Mark cuts in, voice low and dragged on, raspy in a way Donghyuck only hears in his dreams anymore. “Tell me you don't want me and I'll get my hands off you."
(Is this what he wanted? He doesn’t even know what he expected by coming here. It was pure inertia. Mark calls and Donghyuck follows, that’s how it’s always been.)
"You're lying," Donghyuck croaks.
Mark hums, an underlying edge of amusement in his tone. "Only 'cause I know you'd never really ask."
And wasn't that the real problem? When it came to Mark Lee, Donghyuck was physically unable to deny him—nothing but a pawn, conditioned to let Mark get away with whatever he wanted, even at his own cost.
But it didn’t mean he didn’t have his own feelings about it.
"I hate you."
Mark doesn’t even flinch. He pulls back slightly, just enough so he can look Donghyuck in the eyes when he says, “No, you don't."
Donghyuck's pulse picks up, his body coiled tight as he resists the impulse to yank Mark's hand away, to push him back, to do anything, because who the fuck does he think he is. “What the fuck do you know?”
“I know you,” he says, matter of factly. “I know how much you want this, just look how your body responds to me.” He presses himself against Donghyuck, savouring the sweet gasp that leaves his mouth at the friction, Donghyuck’s hips buckling against his will. “So pliant, so eager to surrender.”
Heat spreads across Donghyuck's neck, honey-dipped skin flushing pink all the way to his chest. It's embarrassing. It's frustrating. A smirk starts making its appearance at Mark's lips, slow and self-satisfied, but Donghyuck can't allow it—can't go down without a fight.
So, of course, he says the first thing that comes to mind. A dreaded suspicion. An intrusive thought. An all too plausible possibility now that Mark is a free man and doesn't spend 24/7 glued to Donghyuck's side.
"That what you been telling the other bitches you've been fucking?" he spits, tone bleeding poison.
And out of all the awful things he's said to Mark since he arrived here, of all the resentful, acrid comments he's been throwing at him like stabs, it's that stupid little question what gets to him.
It happens in a blink. Mark's hand flies to Donghyuck's face, lightning fast—and if Donghyuck didn't know better, if he didn’t know him, he'd almost thought Mark was going to slap him. Instead, Mark’s fingers dig into the flesh of his cheeks, gripping hard to keep him in place. He forces their gazes to meet, jaw set, his dark eyes burning through Donghyuck with a fire so fierce he has to suppress the urge to shrink.
"You're insane if you think I'd ever want somebody else,” he mutters, so low and strained it almost sounds like a threat.
Donghyuck swallows hard, breathing growing more labored as he looks up at Mark. His hands won’t stop trembling, and the only thing worse than his stupid, aching heart, is the unbearable strain in the front of his jeans. Time ticks by as they stare at each other and Donghyuck feels himself waver, the surly upfront harder to maintain with every second that passes them by.
And then he leans in.
(When he thinks about it later, Donghyuck tells himself it was Mark who kissed him first, that he isn’t that easy, but the truth is their mouths meet halfway, equally as desperate.)
The kiss is messy, bruising in a non-intentional way, like a storm breaking after months of grey, cloudy days. Mark exhales against his mouth, and Donghyuck’s fists curl on the fabric of Mark’s shirt, knuckles going white as he pulls him in. It’s cruel, he thinks, the way their bodies fit against each other, limbs tangling out of sheer muscular memory, like despite everything, distance hasn’t been able to touch them.
(Donghyuck himself is another story. But then again, it doesn’t matter when it comes to Mark.)
“I missed this so much,” Mark murmurs, tugging Donghyuck closer by the waist, hands sliding frantically under his clothes. “Missed touching you, having you like this.”
Donghyuck can’t breathe. "You did this—you.”
You left. Disappeared off the face of Earth while the entire world turned on me. You fucking ghosted me, and then one day just text me to come over like I’m a fucking dog waiting to be called by its owner.
Mark pulls back an inch, and for a moment there's a flicker of an unpleasant emotion on his face, a shadow clouding his eyes as he drags a soothing hand up and down Donghyuck's side. He seems…regretful, almost. Almost. "You know I had to, baby."
Donghyuck swallows past the lump in this throat, eyes darting away from Mark. It hurts too much to look at him.
"I'll make it up to you, yeah?" Mark tries, burying his face into Donghyuck's neck this time. He nips at the skin softly, then drags his tongue to soothe the sting. "All of it, baby. I’ll fuck you so good you forget how to do anything but moan my name.”
A shudder runs through him.
“Would you like that, mmh?” he’s saying now, coaxing him with his hands, with the way he grinds his hips against Donghyuck’s. “I can take the pain away, Hyuckie. Let me make you feel good again.”
And maybe it all comes down to this. This weakness. He’s so tired of enduring, of denying himself the one thing he can’t live without—of pretending he’s anything other than this.
(Even if it’s just for now. He’ll deal with the aftermath later.)
His voice cracks. “Fine.”
Mark watches him with dark, bottomless eyes, a smile spreading slowly across his swollen lips. He looks a little wrecked too, at least. "Get on your knees for me, sunshine."
Donghyuck obliges.
And it feels natural, holding onto Mark’s hips as he sinks to the floor, looking up at him as he works his belt open. The cold, hard tile floor dugs uncomfortably on his knees, but he welcomes it all the same. It’s second nature, a ritual intimately etched into his very bones. Mark’s fingers card through his hair, ever so softly, and the proud, impossibly fond look on his face makes Donghyuck’s chest swollen and clench at the same time.
"Such an obedient little thing," Mark murmurs, voice dripping with awe. "Always so pretty, so good for me.”
He moans as he takes Mark in his mouth, the familiar weight of him pressing down on his tongue, hot and velvet-soft just like he remembered. Better, even. Mark sets a slow, lazy pace, as though he doesn’t have a rush in the world, like nothing matters aside from but Donghyuck’s warmth enveloping him. Praise falls from his mouth in between a string of gasps and soft grunts, and Donghyuck struggles to drink it all in, eager for anything he can get.
Oh god, he’s missed this so much.
Mark's hold tightens on his hair and his thrusts get a little bit harsher, his length hitting the back of Donghyuck’s throat every time he slides in. It’s soothing, rhythmical—and then suddenly Mark stills, keeping him there, Donghyuck’s nose pressed closely to his crotch.
Breathing is impossible like this, and Donghyuck squirms in his spot, tears prickling behind his closed eyelids as he resists the gag reflex. The restricted airflow is making his head floaty, blissfully empty. Like this, he can almost pretend he and Mark are back in Seoul, in some sweaty, poorly-lit backstage room, riding off their stage-induced adrenaline rush.
(Or in his apartment, fucking around after a long day of joint schedules, as though Mark never left.)
Mark releases him, a gentle hand coming up to Donghyuck’s jaw, his thumb brushing a stray tear from the corner of his eye. "You love this, don't you?” he muses, voice rough. “You love it when I use you for my own pleasure, you get off on it."
It’s not a question, not really. Donghyuck’s blood boils in his veins, and he feels a flush spread though his whole body, proving Mark right anyway. He gulps in air greedily, trying to get a hold of his breathing, throat deliciously raw when he tries to speak. “Is this all you got?”
Mark’s eyes gleam, never one to back out from a challenge. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, pretty. I haven’t even started.”
Donghyuck can't help the yelp that escapes him when Mark picks him up from the floor, carrying him to his room like he doesn't even register the weight. It makes something visceral stir in his stomach, a twisted amalgamation of exhilaration, desire and that twisted pang jealousy that he really didn't mean to show earlier.
It's no wonder, he thinks bitterly, that Mark has bitches literally throwing themselves at him (because yes, he heard about Coachella, unfortunately, even though he tried hard to pretend he didn’t, for his own sake). Mark is smart, dedicated, and just so damn good at everything he does—and now he's also stronger, big enough to overpower him if he needs to, physically capable of bending Donghyuck to his will.
The thought sends a thrill up his spine, but he doesn't get the time to process it, because then Mark is laying him down on his bed, pinning him under his body. He kisses Donghyuck like it pains him not to, their tongues sliding together in a delicious dance that has him panting and aching all over.
He makes quick work of stripping Donghyuck off his clothes, not sparing a second glance as to where they land. Donghyuck lets it all happen, watching Mark with half-lidded eyes and a stuttering pulse. It feels straight out a fever dream, Mark's hands searing as they splay on his chest—grabbing, teasing, digging into the spaces between his ribs like he's barely resisting the impulse to carve inside him and take his beating heart, too.
Donghyuck isn't sure he'd have it in him to stop him if he did.
Mark slides lower, taking his sweet time with Donghyuck's hips, biting at the insides of his thighs and then watching with sick delight the way red blooms around the dents. He purposefully ignores Donghyuck's evident hard-on, even though he must know it hurts by now. It’s ridiculous, and exasperating, because Donghyuck's already so sensitive and worked up he twitches if Mark so much as breathes near him.
"You want me to beg, don't you?" he grits, breathless.
Mark lifts his head calmly, looks at him from underneath his eyelashes. He's got that wild, slightly deranged expression on, the one that warns Donghyuck to better brace himself. "Oh, you'll beg. It's only a matter of time."
He's ready to burst out of his skin by the time Mark turns him on his side and presses himself against Donghyuck's back. He grinds back immediately, automatically, throat going dry at the unmistakable feeling of Mark's cock pressing against his ass—hot and heavy and perfect.
"Mark, hurry," he squirms.
"Eager, are we?" Mark produces a bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer, and coates himself generously, spreading the rest of it across Donghyuck's thighs. He pulls Donghyuck closer by the waist, using his other hand to guide himself into the narrow space between his legs, groaning low against his ear. "M'gonna fuck your pretty legs now, Hyuckie. Be good and keep still, yeah?"
Donghyuck lets out a pained whine, frustration prickling behind his eyelids. "You're the fucking worst."
He lets out a dry laugh. "So I've been told."
Mark doesn’t waste another second and starts rocking his hips, slotted tight between Donghyuck’s legs. It's maddening. Every slick, tortuous drag brushes at his own leaking hardness, but not quite right, not enough to provide any real relief, and Mark still won't fucking touch him. And still. Donghyuck tries his best not to move, eyes locked on the absolutely filthy view that is the head of Mark's cock peaking through every time he thrusts in.
"Ready to beg?" Mark rasps, his hand skimming down from Donghyuck’s chest to his stomach. "Tell me what to do, baby."
"Touch me," Donghyuck blurts, pride flying out the window. "Need you to touch me."
"I am touching you, sunshine." Mark slows down his movements, the wet, squeaky sounds replaced by that sweet, dragged on tone he reserves specially for Donghyuck. "Be more specific. You can do that, right?"
"Right, fuck.” Donghyuck takes a shaky breath through parted lips, craning his head to look at Mark. “Please, hyung. I'm so hard, just—”
Mark hums, pleased. “Such a well-behaved boy.” He finally, thankfully, takes mercy on him and wraps Donghyuck in his fist, pressing an open kiss to the corner of his mouth. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Donghyuck cries out, the sensation of relief so strong that it makes him dizzy. His hips snap forward with a mind of their own, fucking into Mark’s hand, and he takes the chance to resume his own pace, hold tightening around Donghyuck’s waist for good measure.
He doesn't realize he’s gotten too close to the edge until it’s too late. And Mark must know it too, because he grasps a little harder, tugs a little faster, even though Donghyuck isn’t moving anymore.
"Mark—no, stop," he chokes out. "I'm gonna—"
"That's okay, sunshine," Mark soothes, breath hot against his shoulder. "You can come."
Donghyuck shakes his head furiously, squeezing his eyes shut. He knows it's too good to be true, this good will of his. It's never that easy, which probably means he'll regret it if he lets himself go right now—but it's so hard not to, with the way Mark's wrist flicks around him, dragging his thumb around the slit like he knows drives Donghyuck to the brink.
"But you wanted me to touch you, baby."
Donghyuck wraps a hand around Mark’s forearm, blunt nails digging into pale skin as he tries to wiggle away. “Mark.”
But Mark doesn’t relent. “You came all the way here just for me to use you, didn’t you?” he goads, low and filthy and entirely unfazed by Donghyuck’s thrashing. “You wanted to come for me so bad—then do it.”
His stomach tightens and Donghyuck spills over Mark’s hand, his brain completely shutting down for a second. The orgasm crashes against him like a shockwave, ruthless and violent, making his whole body shudder with the force of it.
Mark holds him through it, pressing feathery kisses to his nape, lapping at the fine layer of sweat gathering there. "How'd that feel, baby?"
"Good," Donghyuck pants after a moment, throat hoarse as he struggles to catch his breath. “So good.”
“I’m glad.” Mark places a final peck on his shoulder and then moves away, scooting backwards, bringing Donghyuck’s pliant body with him so he can lay on his back. "What do you say, then?"
And it’s so easy, amidst the haze, letting the words fall from his lips at Mark’s prompts. Easier, even, when Mark’s gaze is locked on Donghyuck’s face, dark eyes absorbing every detail almost obsessively. "Thank you, hyung."
Mark nods approvingly. "That's right, sunshine. Anything else?"
Donghyuck glances at Mark's cock, still hard and angry red—and gulps, feeling the flush already rising to his cheeks for what he's about to say; for what he knows Mark wants to hear. His voice comes out strangled, heat pooling low in his belly like he didn’t just come two seconds ago. "Do you—would you like to use my hole now?"
Mark inhales deeply, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Aren't you the sweetest thing?” he praises, petting Donghyuck’s hair with his free hand. “Yes, of course I would like that, baby. How could I ever let you go without ruining that pretty little hole of yours?
His body reacts at the words before his mind can, a soft moan escaping his mouth. “God, you’re so filthy.”
Mark’s grin turns lewd as kneels on the bed, pulling Donghyuck’s legs apart so he can position himself between them. “Filthy,” he echoes, lifting his palm with Donghyuck’s mess still dripping from it. He rubs his fingers together experimentally, once, twice. “What about this, then?”
“Gross.” Donghyuck wrinkles his nose, but his voice tone lacks the bite he aims for, he’s still very much coming down from his high. “Please don’t make me lick it.”
Mark snorts. “Can’t say I dislike the idea,” he snickers, “but no, we’re gonna give it a much better use.”
"As in…?"
He doesn't get to finish the question, because then Mark’s pushing his legs against his chest, roughly enough it punches the air out of him, leaving his ass exposed. He moves swiftly, methodically, not giving Donghyuck the time to process what’s going on. It’s a sharp contrast to his earlier leniency, and it has Donghyuck’s head spinning all over again. Licking his lips, Mark brings his cum-covered hand to Donghyuck’s hole and spreads the sticky fluid all over it, watching intently for Donghyuck‘s reaction.
Donghyuck whines, flinching on reflex, but the position doesn’t allow him to get far. It’s not that he entirely dislikes it, either, with the way his traitorous body lights up like a bonfire. And Mark’s hand is insistent, coaxing the muscle, prodding softly to test the give. “Hyung.”
“Yes, baby?”
The sting registers a second too late. Donghyuck gasps, words dying on his tongue as Mark’s digit presses in, all the way up his knuckle. It’s familiar, and overwhelming, and he forces himself to breathe around the intrusion; because despite everything it’s been too long, and his entire being feels like a live wire.
“Goddamn, Mark.” Donghyuck hisses, breathless. “Go slow, it’s—too soon.”
“Slow,” Mark repeats, eyes hooded and glinting with a breath-taking mixture of mirth and raw want. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Fun.
(Yeah, he can be that. He can be anything.)
The slide of Mark’s finger is just barely short of dry, bordering on painful, and Donghyuck hates the way it makes him feel more alive than he has in months. Mark pushes more of Donghyuck’s—now almost dry—cum inside of him, and presses in two fingers this time, twisting them against that sweet, sweet spot, and Donghyuck jolts, arching off the mattress as if electrified.
Mark uses his free hand to pin Donghyuck to the bed, fingers digging painfully into his hip to keep him in place. He sets a brutal, ruthless pace, abusing his prostate until he’s reduced to a babbling mess underneath him. And then, just because he can, he brings his mouth to Donghyuck’s chest and sucks on one hard, perky nipple.
Donghyuck comes untouched, with a plea with the shape of Mark’s name on his mouth, fingers buried deep into his hair. He’s still trembling, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears when Mark pulls back, taking his fingers off Donghyuck.
“Fuck—” he sucks in a sharp breath, caught off guard. The loss is so sudden and devastating it has tears welling at his eyes, his throat closing up with the intensity of the sensation.
“Look at you, baby.” Mark runs the pad of his finger around his puffy rim, gaze locked on his hole as it clenches uselessly around nothing. “Bet you feel so empty right now, mmh?” He shifts closer, and Donghyuck watches with sick fascination as Mark grabs the bottle of lube and slicks himself up, stroking his length slowly as he speaks. “I’ll fill you up so good, just like you need.”
Donghyuck inhales shakily, flinching as the tip of Mark’s cock brushes at his gaping entrance. Every nerve ending in his body is screaming at him to stop, that it’s too much. “No, hyung—Mark—I can’t.”
But Mark just runs a soothing hand along his trembling thigh, his tone so gentle it makes Donghyuck’s chest hurt. “Yes, you can, baby,” he assures him. “You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?"
And it would be so easy to say no. To put up a fight, to refuse him—if only to feel less exposed, less seen.
Except Mark already knows the answer.
Donghyuck nods.
"My sweet baby,” Mark praises lovingly, swiping a thumb across his wet cheek. “Always so pretty, so ready to give yourself over.”
Only for you, he thinks deliriously. It’s only you.
“I’ll take care of you, Hyuckie. All you have to do now is lie still for me, okay?”
“Okay,” he sniffs, glaze-eyed and tear-stricken. “Okay, hyung.”
And so Mark pushes in slowly, gently, whispering sweet nothings into Donghyuck’s ear as he eases himself home. Donghyuck cries out, overwhelmed; the sudden softness in Mark’s demeanor feels unbearable; so much worse than the stretch of his insides as they make space for him, sharper than his teeth digging into Donghyuck’s lower lip as he bottoms out.
“You feel so tight, Hyuckie, so perfect,” Mark breathes against his mouth, voice rough and wrecked. “So much better than I remembered.”
It doesn’t take long for him to find a pace, hips rocking forward slowly and dragged on, one arm braced beside Donghyuck’s head. His other hand roams along his side, brushing at his nipples, squeezing at his waist, fingernails scratching lightly at the honeyed skin. Donghyuck whines and just clings to him, curls around him with both legs and arms as though he could fade into him if he tries hard enough, face buried on his neck because it’s too good, too much.
“Hyuckie, baby, look at me,” Mark urges him, desperation bleeding into his voice. “I need to see you.”
Donghyuck’s mind is swimming, his lungs on fire, but he lifts his head anyway, pulling back to look at him. The sight that greets him feels like a hundred thorns digging into his heart. Mark—flushed and open-mouthed, sweat beading on his temples, dripping down the side of his neck and into his collarbones. Donghyuck wants to lick it, taste the saltiness on his tongue; he wants to drink from Mark until he’s intoxicated off him, too far gone to remember what being thirsty even is.
“You look so perfect taking me like this. So beautiful.” Mark dips his head forward, pressing his forehead to Donghyuck’s. “I don’t want nobody else to see you like this, to have you like this—just me.”
Something tightens in Donghyuck’s stomach—that twisted, wanting part of him that aches to be whatever Mark needs him to, to bend however it’s more convenient for him; that gnawing, burning urge to let him take and take and take—even if it ruins him. Donghyuck can be his lover, his bandmate, his toy; it doesn’t matter, as long as he’s allowed a piece of him, however small, however fleeting.
“Yes,” he pants. “Yes, hyung.”
Mark’s rhythm grows faster, messier, hips slamming against Donghyuck in an angle that has him impossibly hard all over again, his dick leaking pathetically where it’s trapped between their bodies. And Mark must feel it, of course he does; because then he’s wrapping a hand around him, pumping him in tandem with his thrusts, drawing out cries and strangled moans.
“Let me hear it, Hyuck.”
And so he brings his fingers to Mark’s face, cradling his jaw adoringly as he indulges him, because that’s just what he does. “It’s only you,” he chokes out, words pushed out of him between thrusts. “Just you.”
Mark leans in to kiss him, deep and filthy and divine. He fills every sense, every pore, every corner of his mind. “My Donghyuck, mine.”
(He’s so weak and stupid and weak.)
The orgasm tears through him, sharp and sudden. Donghyuck screams just as Mark’s hips stutter, his whole body convulsing around him as he comes for a third time. He can’t breathe, he can’t see—but he feels Mark twitching, spilling deep inside of him; he hears the muffled moan he lets out against his neck, feels the delicious weight of his body as Mark collapses on top of him.
It’s like the world halts just for them, narrowing down to the only thing that matters—this warmth engulfing him, filling him, burning him from the inside and drowning out everything else.
And it’s peaceful, for a while. Their chests heaving in unison, their entangled limbs fitting together just like they’re supposed to. Like they used to. Mark drags his lips along Donghyuck’s jaw, pressing sweet, lingering kisses everywhere he’s able to reach, arms wrapped around him like this is exactly where Donghyuck belongs.
Except it’s not.
Donghyuck pushes Mark off him, wincing when he tries to sit up and pain shots up his lower half.
Mark’s reaction comes too slow, his words a little sluggish like maybe he was starting to doze off. He frowns. “What are you doing?”
Donghyuck ignores him. He grits his jaw, throwing his legs off the bed anyway, looking around for his underwear, his shirt, anything.
“Hyuck?” Mark insists, sitting up this time, too.
He takes a deep breath and pushes to his feet. “What does it look like, Mark?” he mutters, back still turned to him. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
It kind of works, until he takes one shaky step forward and then his knees wobble, nearly giving out under him. His hand shots forward, holding to the back of a chair for balance, exactly at the same time Mark gets to his side.
“Wait, baby—” he tries, reaching for Donghyuck’s elbow.
“Do not call me that,” he seethes, slapping Mark’s hands away like they’ll burn him. “Don’t.”
He doesn’t know what kind of look he’s got on his face, but it’s enough to make him back off.
“Okay,” Mark says, stepping back, but his hands still hover. “Okay, I won’t. Just—let’s get you cleaned up first, yes? You can’t go like this.”
Donghyuck ponders this for a moment, mind reeling, chest rising and falling rapidly at the surge of adrenaline. As much as he wants to fuck off, he knows Mark is right. He can’t exactly show up back at the hotel with Mark’s cum still dripping down his thighs.
"Make it quick.”
“Of course.” Mark’s tone is cautious again, his movements tentative. Donghyuck wants to scream. “I’ll take you to the bathroom, okay?”
He swallows thickly, allowing Mark to wrap an arm around his waist as he walks them out of the room, nearly carrying all of Donghyuck’s weight himself. Mark places him by the sink, making sure he’s got something solid to support him as he turns around to turn on the bathtub faucet.
The muscles of his back flex under the warm light spilling from the hallway, and he’s got this all too familiar, worried expression on his face when he looks back at Donghyuck. “Is it alright if I run you a bath?”
Suddenly, it’s no longer adrenaline that has his pulse racing; but a surge of yearning so piercing, so strong he almost feels his chest physically caving in. Donghyuck hates the way it makes him waver, the way it tugs at his heart. So he just nods, wordlessly, lips pressed together tightly so it doesn’t fall off his throat straight into Mark’s hands.
“Do you want me to help you in?” Mark extends an open palm towards him, looking at Donghyuck with warm, patient eyes. His mouth twitches slightly when Donghyuck nods, reaching forward hesitantly to accept his offering. It’s not a smile, not quite, but it hits him like a punch anyway. “Let’s get you settled, come on.”
The water envelops him like a warm, welcoming blanket. He hugs his knees to his chest and just sighs, eyes fluttering shut despite himself as Mark kneels beside him. He shivers as Mark’s fingers make contact, but Donghyuck doesn’t pull away this time. He allows it, lets Mark rub soap into his skin, body going pliant in his hands. There’s something heart-achingly dutiful in the way Mark moves, something almost devoted in the way he touches him; like Donghyuck’s something worth taking his time and care with—not because he’s fragile, but because he’s precious.
And Mark must sense the change in his demeanor, the tension slowly leaving from his shoulders, because he asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?”
Donghyuck doesn’t reply immediately. “Why would I stay?” he mumbles eventually, voice impossibly small. “We don’t—we’re nothing. You made that very clear when you left.”
He hears Mark’s sigh, and this time there is no pretense in his tone when he speaks, just raw, crushing sorrow. “I thought you understood,” he says. “I thought you agreed.”
“I didn’t know back then, Mark,” he says, voice cracking painfully. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”
“Like what?” Mark inches closer, his palm sliding to Donghyuck’s jaw, guiding it softly in his direction because he’s still refusing to look at him. “Hyuck, please. Tell me.”
It’s tricky.
Donghyuk lifts his gaze slowly, throat tightening as he meets Mark’s eyes. He knew what he would find, and yet he’s not prepared for the way it gnaws at his chest, his ribs suddenly too tight, too sharp against his insides. Mark looks so young, so lost, and for a moment Donghyuck is not in New York anymore, but back at their old dorms, staring at a thirteen year old trainee who’d gotten everything he once knew ripped away from him.
“I didn’t know that I’d feel this angry at you,” Donghyuck confesses, voice barely audible over the flicker of water around him as he curls further on himself. “That your name would taste this sour, that I wouldn’t be able to stand our songs.” His expression is a hollow, broken thing, but the words taste vaguely like relief as they leave his lips. “Had I known, I would have tried harder to make you stay.”
Mark stares at him, helpless, his wide, shiny eyes roaming Donghyuck’s face almost frantically. “If I’d known you’d end up hating me, I would have tried harder to stay,” he murmures after a long silence, head hanging low. “I would have stayed for you.”
(But that would've been so, so much worse.)
Donghyuck closes his eyes, all of the exhaustion and emotions of the day finally catching up to him. "It doesn't matter now, Mark. It's done." He shakes his head, desperate to escape this heavy, oppressive atmosphere that had settled between them. "I really should go back now, manager-hyung must be going crazy."
Mark doesn’t add anything else.
He helps him to climb out of the bathtub instead, wrapping a big, fluffy towel around Donghyuck’s shoulders, which he uses to gently pat at the droplets dotting his skin. He goes to fetch Donghyuck's clothes, all the while keeping his eyes cast low on the floor, and comes back sporting a pair of sweats himself. Donghyuck dresses slowly, partly because his whole body aches, and partly—and he would never admit this out loud—because he can’t bring himself to leave like this, not when Mark looks this defeated, this hopeless.
Not when Donghyuck was the one responsible for it.
Mark waits silently as Donghyuck finishes tying his left Converse, which he purposely messes up just so he gets a couple more minutes to think about something to say, anything that can make this better, even when he knows it’s fucked up beyond—
"Leave the company."
Donghyuck looks up at Mark, startled, his heartbeat rising to his throat. "What?"
Mark lifts his head, finally, his brown, earnest eyes locking onto Donghyuck’s, pinning him into place. "I left, and I hurt you, and I know I don't have any right to ask you this—that you don't have any reason to trust me right now, but I meant it, Hyuck. I wanna make it up to you.” Mark takes a deep breath and steps closer, reaching gingerly for Donghyuck’s hand. He looks ready to be rejected, for Donghyuck to immediately pull back, but he goes on. “So come with me. Leave the damn company."
His voice comes out thin, like a secret he wasn’t ready to spill, a fear he hadn’t dared to name. "Mark, I can’t just leave."
"Why not?” he urges, fire blazing behind his gaze as he takes both of Donghyuck’s hands now, holding them between his own. “The babies will understand. The fans will support you no matter what. They know how hard you've worked, too."
Even then, he can’t stop them from shaking. "I can't, Mark, I—it's all I've ever know, I don't even know what I would do—"
"You can do whatever you want, Hyuckie,” Mark cuts in gently, tightening his grip for emphasis. “You can still make music, get into uni if you'd like.” His voice gets lower now, softened by nostalgia. “We can get a nice, cozy apartment, with a beautiful view of the river—and we can wake up together everyday, just like we always wanted."
"The contract—" His voice wavers. "I still have to—"
"You don't have to answer me now. Just think about it, okay? It's all I ask for."
"And if I'm never ready?" he whispers after a beat, unable to tear his eyes away from Mark’s face. “If I can’t trust you not to leave again, what then?”
Mark smiles, wistful and tender and devastating. "Then I'll keep waiting." He simply says, running his thumb along the back of Donghyuck's hand. Then he lets go. "What else would I do? It's you, after all." He shrugs, like he isn't straight out breaking Donghyuck's heart in half. "Always been."
° ° °
april 29th, 1:27
stupid hyung
are you okay?
did you land already?
april 29th, 6:00
stupid hyung
i just wanna know if you're okay
let me know when you can please
april 30th, 14:38
stupid hyung
hyuck
hyuckie
talk to me?
may 1st, 20:04
stupid hyung
okay i know I deserve this
take all the time you need
i'll be here
may 5th, 15:17
stupid hyung
i had kimchi jjigae today
it made me think of you
don't forget to eat
may 9th, 3:01
stupid hyung
saw the pictures from the event
you looked so beautiful
may 13th, 22:22
stupid hyung
i'm still here
thought you should know
may 16th, 12:45
stupid hyung
i visited a couple apartments today
found one with a pretty balcony and even prettier view
i think you'd like it
may 20th, 12:45
stupid hyung
i talked to jeno today
he said you were doing better
i'm glad you have him to take care of you
may 22th, 8:00
stupid hyung
really?
out of all people
why did u have to film the challenge with that guy?
unbelievable
may 25th, 6:06
stupid hyung
you're my baby
always
i know you haven’t forgotten
may 28th, 23:12
stupid hyung
i dreamt about you last night
we were back in jeju
you looked so happy
may 31th, 16:34
stupid hyung
i made an offer for the apartment
the sunny one
keep your fingers crossed!!!
june 2nd, 00:07
stupid hyung
i miss you a lot
but it’s okay i can wait
i just want you to know I'm not gonna get bored
june 4th, 18:02
stupid hyung
met a cool singer today
at the label
he loves r&b
think you'd like him a lot
june 6th, 03:27
stupid hyung
happy birthday sunshine
i’m so proud of u
june 10th, 08:21
stupid hyung
you did so good on your solo promo
good luck on ur last live stage
hyuck fighting!!!
june 15th, 13:55
stupid hyung
i teased a new song today
don’t know if u listened to it
it’s about you
june 17th, 13:55
stupid hyung
hyuckie
i finally got the keys
bought this cute bear keychain for yours
he'll be waiting for you, too
june 18th, 01:27
haechan
you’re such an asshole
did you know that?
tell him I'll see him soon