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The anticipation had been humming beneath Jongho’s skin since the moment he received the cryptic text from Hongjoong. It wasn't often that the Captain played the role of the enigmatic plotter—usually, that was Jongho’s territory—but the message had been clear: “Come to the old studio space at the end of the hall. I have a surprise for you, Jongho-ya. Don’t be late.”
Jongho had spent the better part of the afternoon in a state of restless, high-frequency energy. He had practiced his vocals with a bit too much power and paced the dorm hallways until Wooyoung had jokingly asked if he was wearing a hole in the floor. He was excited, certainly, but a persistent thread of nerves pulled at his stomach. Hongjoong’s "surprises" usually fell into two categories: a new, complex song demo that would challenge Jongho's range, or a moment of rare, unfiltered intimacy that would leave Jongho's head spinning for days. Given the tone of the text, he was leaning heavily toward the latter.
He reached the end of the dimly lit corridor, his boots clicking softly against the floor. The air in this part of the building was cooler, smelling of old dust and expensive soundproofing foam. He took a deep, centering breath, adjusted the hem of his jacket, and pushed the heavy soundproof door open.
Jongho walked into a room that was swallowed by absolute darkness. The heavy blackout curtains had been drawn tight, and not a single sliver of moonlight or hallway glow managed to penetrate the space.
"Hongjoong-hyung?" Jongho called out, his voice sounding small in the vast, quiet room. He reached out blindly, his palm skimming the cold wall as he searched for the light switch. "Hyungie, I'm here. Where are you?"
He took one cautious step forward, but before his foot could even fully settle on the floor, the atmosphere shifted.
The sound of the door clicking shut behind him was the only warning he got. Suddenly, a firm, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist, the grip certain and unyielding. Jongho let out a sharp, involuntary gasp, his muscles tensing instinctively for a fight, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He felt himself being hauled forward, his balance wavering as he was pulled flush against a solid, warm chest.
The alarm in his mind was loud until he leaned in, his nose brushing against the fabric of a familiar leather jacket. He inhaled—a heady, sharp mix of expensive sandalwood, bitter coffee, and a musky scent that was uniquely, undeniably Hongjoong.
Jongho’s shoulders dropped, the tension bleeding out of him in a long, shaky exhale. "Hyung?" he whispered, his voice vibrating against Hongjoong’s collarbone.
Jongho couldn’t truly say he was surprised. In the back of his mind, he had an idea of what was about to happen. He knew Hongjoong’s moods, knew the way the older man’s eyes darkened when he wanted to claim what was his. He didn't know the specifics of the "surprise," but he knew one thing for certain: he was going to see stars before the night was over.
Hongjoong didn’t say a word. The silence was his weapon, and he used it to heighten every other sensation. His hand, previously locked around Jongho’s wrist, began to wander. He slid his palm up Jongho’s arm, his fingers trailing over the bicep before coming to rest on his chest. He gripped the firm muscle there, a slow, deliberate grope that made Jongho’s breath hitch. Simultaneously, Hongjoong’s other hand, which had been anchored at Jongho’s waist, began a slow, torturous descent down the curve of his thigh.
Jongho let out a soft, airy gasp, his legs instinctively spreading to accommodate the touch. He could feel the heat of Hongjoong’s breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of his nape, sending a frantic shiver down his spine. He felt himself hardening, a dull ache beginning to throb, and he bit his lip hard, unconsciously trying to close his legs in a futile attempt at modesty.
"Hyung... please," Jongho murmured, the plea caught in the back of his throat.
Hongjoong let out a low, satisfied hum—a dark vibration that Jongho felt in his own chest. Without warning, Hongjoong spun him around. Before Jongho could find his bearings, Hongjoong leaned in, his lips crashing against Jongho’s in a kiss that tasted of hunger and absolute authority.
A soft, broken moan was pulled from Jongho’s throat. He felt Hongjoong’s hands shift, grabbing him firmly by the undersides of his thighs. With a surge of strength, the older man hoisted him up. Jongho parted his lips, clinging to Hongjoong like a life raft, his legs wrapping tightly around the Captain’s waist as he opened himself up completely.
He felt Hongjoong move through the darkness, three heavy strides that ended with a muffled thud. Next thing Jongho knew, he was trapped—the cold, hard surface of the wall was at his back, and the searing, possessive heat of Hongjoong’s body was pinning him in place.
Hongjoong broke the kiss, his breathing as jagged and uneven as Jongho’s. He didn't go for the buttons. Instead, he gripped the collar of Jongho’s shirt and gave a violent, decisive yank. The sound of fabric ripping filled the quiet room as the garment was ripped away, exposing Jongho’s pale, broad chest to the cool air.
Hongjoong didn't wait. He leaned down, his mouth finding the junction of Jongho’s neck and shoulder. He bit down—not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a deep, dark mark that would serve as a reminder of exactly who Jongho belonged to.
"Mine," Hongjoong growled against his skin, and Jongho could only arch his back and pray he survived the night.
Hongjoong didn’t stop at the destruction of the shirt. His hands, rough and focused, moved down to fumble with the zipper of Jongho’s pants. He was impatient, his movements jerky with a raw kind of need to discard every lingering barrier, to feel the entirety of Jongho’s pale, firm skin against his own. Because Jongho was the youngest, there was always a part of Hongjoong that felt a fierce, protective urge to handle him with care, but tonight, that care had been replaced by a primal, territorial hunger.
It took a bit of effort, a clumsy tangle of limbs and muffled curses as they fought with the denim, but eventually, Jongho was stepped out of them, leaving his lower half bare and sensitive to the sudden draft.
Hongjoong set Jongho down on his feet for a moment, his hands immediately resuming their frantic mapping of Jongho’s body. He loved the way the younger man shivered—the way his muscles jumped and twitched under Hongjoong’s palms. With a low, commanding grunt, Hongjoong spun him around. He pressed Jongho’s back firmly against his own front, his fully clothed body grinding against Jongho’s bare, heated skin.
"Ngh... Hyung..." Jongho let out a long, broken moan as he felt the friction. He arched his back, seeking more of that grounding pressure, and was about to let out a needy whine when Hongjoong suddenly pulled away.
Jongho swallowed the sound, standing shivering in the darkness. He heard the metallic hiss of a zipper and the rustle of fabric as Hongjoong shed his own trousers. Then came a series of sounds that made Jongho’s heart hammer against his ribs: a low groan, followed by the distinct, wet squelch of lubricant. A bottle hit the floor with a dull thud, echoing in the silent room.
Jongho swallowed hard, biting his lip until he tasted iron. He could feel the heat of Hongjoong approaching his back again, the air around them vibrating with tension. He braced himself, expecting the older man to line himself up and push inside, but instead, he felt Hongjoong grab his wrists.
With authoritative strength, Hongjoong pulled Jongho’s hands behind his back. Jongho didn't fight; he let his head fall forward, a soft whimper escaping him as he felt a cool, silk-like fabric wrapping around his wrists—a necktie, he realized. The bondage didn't scare him; if anything, the loss of control made his blood sing. He pushed his hips back experimentally, seeking the contact he craved. "H-Hyung... please... I want you..."
Hongjoong’s hands snapped to Jongho’s waist, his fingers digging into the flesh. He lined his cock up against Jongho’s entrance, but he didn’t push in. He lingered there, teasing the opening, his breath hot against Jongho’s ear. He couldn't help but smirk as he felt Jongho’s desperate attempts to push back, to force the entry.
"Patience, Jongho-ya," Hongjoong whispered, his voice dark and dripping with a secret amusement. "I told you there was a surprise."
"I don't... ngh... I don't care about surprises," Jongho gasped, his head lolling. "Just fill me up, please—"
Suddenly, the darkness was obliterated.
A bank of overhead stadium lights flared to life with a loud thrum, blinding Jongho instantly. He squeezed his eyes shut, hissing at the sting, but as his vision cleared, the gasp that left his lips was one of pure, unadulterated shock.
What he had thought was a solid, soundproof wall in the darkness was actually a massive, floor-to-ceiling pane of one-way glass—or perhaps, in this case, two-way.
Behind the glass, in a brightly lit, plush viewing lounge, sat the rest of ATEEZ.
Seonghwa, Yunho, San, Yeosang, Mingi, and Wooyoung were all there. They weren't just standing; they were settled comfortably into plush, velvet single-sofa chairs arranged in a semi-circle, facing the glass like a private theater. Each of them held a crystal glass filled with what looked like expensive whiskey, champagne or dark wine.
The silence on Jongho's side of the glass was deafening. He stood there, completely exposed, his wrists bound, his chest marked, and his lower half bare, staring directly into the eyes of his members.
Wooyoung broke the silence first. He raised his glass in a slow, mocking toast, a devilish grin spreading across his face.
"Surprise!" he mouthed through the glass, his eyes sparkling with absolute mischief.
Seonghwa looked on with a sophisticated, slightly flushed expression, swirling his wine, while Mingi and San leaned forward in their chairs, eyes wide and fixed on the scene. Yunho just winked, looking far too comfortable for the situation.
Jongho felt the blood rush to his face, a heat so intense it rivaled the friction of Hongjoong's body. He tried to pull his hands forward, forgetting they were tied, his breath coming in panicked hitches. "Hyung? What... what is this?"
Hongjoong didn't pull away. Instead, he gripped Jongho’s chin, forcing him to look through the glass at their audience.
"They wanted to see if our maknae could handle a real performance," Hongjoong murmured against his neck, his hands tightening on Jongho’s hips. "Don't look away, Jongho-ya. They're here for you."
Jongho felt the heat of the room skyrocket, a violent crimson stain spreading from his chest to the tips of his ears. But as the initial shock subsided, it wasn't shame that took hold. Instead, a dark, forbidden thrill curled in his gut. The presence of the others, watching him in this state of absolute ruin, acted like an accelerant on his desire. He let out a loud, raw moan as Hongjoong finally lost his patience and thrusted into his awaiting hole with a single, devastating motion.
The sensation was overwhelming. Jongho’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling as he felt every inch of Hongjoong filling him deliciously.
“Do you like it? Hm?” Hongjoong’s voice was a low, possessive rumble in his ear, his hands like iron on Jongho’s hips. “Do you like it when the others are watching you get taken like this?”
Jongho couldn’t even find the words to argue. He let out another broken moan, his body arching beautifully as Hongjoong gripped his bound arms and pulled him flush against his front. The rough friction of Hongjoong’s chest against his bare back, combined with the relentless pounding from behind, made Jongho’s legs give way. He spread them further instinctively, his gaze drifting to the glass wall. Through the blur of his own tears, he met the eyes of the audience. He didn't look away; instead, he stared back with a lewd, hazy focus, his mouth parted as he took everything Hongjoong gave him.
Hongjoong let out a dark, triumphant chuckle. His hand slithered up from Jongho’s waist, mapping the sweat-slicked skin of his chest before settling around his neck. He gave a firm squeeze—just enough to make Jongho gasp for air—causing the younger’s core to clamp down hard in a reflex.
“Look at them, Jongho-ya. You’re such a show-off, aren't you?” Hongjoong hissed, his pace turning punishingly hard. “Look at you, acting like a little slut in front of the whole team. You want them to see how much you love this?”
“Ngh! H-Hyung! Ah—!” Jongho’s gasps turned into desperate pleas. The degradation, the audience, and the physical intensity were too much. He began to beg, his voice cracking. “Please... don’t stop! Harder, Hyung-ah, harder! Please!”
He started clenching desperately around Hongjoong, his body vibrating on the edge of a cliff. Hongjoong could feel the way Jongho was starting to fray. He kept his hand firmly around the younger man's neck, maintaining that dominant control, while his other hand reached around to grab Jongho’s leaking cock.
Jongho’s knees buckled. He tried to squeeze his legs shut against the sudden, direct friction, his breath coming in high-pitched, panicked hitches. “Hyungie— no, I’m— I’m close! Hngh! So close!”
“Good boy. Stay right there,” Hongjoong commanded, jerking him with a ruthless, fast rhythm that matched the pace of his thrusts.
It took only a few more seconds of that dual assault before Jongho saw stars. A loud, guttural scream left his lips, his back arching into a bow as he came with a violent intensity, painting the glass wall white directly in front of their watching members. Hongjoong didn't let up, growling as he delivered several more heavy, deep drives before finally unknotting and finishing deep inside Jongho.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by Jongho’s ragged, sobbing breaths. His knees were like jelly; the moment Hongjoong withdrew, Jongho collapsed forward, his forehead pressing against the cool glass as he sank down toward the floor. He let out a small, pathetic whine as he felt the loss of Hongjoong’s cock.
Hongjoong stepped away, but only for a moment. Jongho heard the scrape of furniture—a chair being dragged across the tiles. Before he could process it, Hongjoong’s strong arms were under him again, lifting his limp body.
Hongjoong sat him down on the chair, which was now positioned directly in the center of the spotlight, facing the glass. Jongho’s hands remained bound behind the chair's backrest. Then, with a cold, methodical focus, Hongjoong grabbed more fabric, spreading Jongho’s legs wide and tying his ankles to the chair legs.
He was left completely exposed, his chest marked and heaving, on full display for the six men sitting just feet away.
“You’re going to be a good boy for the rest of the night, right?” Hongjoong asked, tilting Jongho’s chin up so their eyes met.
“Hm...” Jongho murmured, his vision still swimming.
“Answer me.” Hongjoong’s thumb pressed firmly against his bottom lip.
“Y-yes, Hyung...” Jongho whispered, his gaze flickering back to the glass wall where his members watched in stunned, wine-sipping silence.
“Good boy,” Hongjoong smirked, stepping back to admire his work. “You better behave. The show’s just getting started.”
The sudden withdrawal of Hongjoong’s body left Jongho feeling cold and dangerously exposed, but the vacancy didn't last long. Jongho’s eyes went wide, a sharp gasp catching in his throat as he felt a cold, silicone-slicked object shove abruptly into his aching hole. He let out a strangled whimper, his body bucking against the ties as he felt himself being stuffed, his muscles reflexively clenching around the intrusion.
"H-Hyung? What are you—?" Jongho’s voice trailed off into a confused, needy breath. He watched, helpless and bound, as Hongjoong didn't answer. Instead, the Captain, who’s back neatly dressed, simply wiped his hands, threw a dark, possessive wink toward the chair, and turned on his heel.
Jongho’s breathing became a series of frantic hitches as he watched Hongjoong exit the room. Moments later, the door on the other side of the glass opened. Through the pane, Jongho saw Hongjoong walk into the lounge, radiating a calm, terrifyingly dominant energy. He watched as Hongjoong took his seat in the center, flanked by the others, looking like a king returning to his throne.
Jongho opened his mouth to call out, to beg for Hongjoong to come back, but the words were ripped away by a sudden, jarring vibration.
"AH—! NGghh!"
Jongho’s back arched so violently it nearly tipped the chair. The toy inside him had roared to life at the highest setting, sending a relentless, bone-shaking frequency directly against his oversensitized prostate. His head fell back, his bound wrists straining against the cloth as his body jerked in rhythmic, helpless spasms.
In the lounge, Hongjoong held the remote with a smirk, his thumb resting casually on the dial. He leaned back, crossing his legs as he watched Jongho come undone through the glass.
"Dang, he looks so pretty like that," Yunho suddenly spoke up, his voice amplified into Jongho’s room through a hidden speaker. He was leaning forward, his glass forgotten on the side table as he watched the way Jongho’s muscles rippled and tensed.
"I know, right? Ugh," Wooyoung chimed in, his voice dripping with a mix of envy and appreciation. He bit his lip, watching Jongho’s head loll. "I’d pay to have a chance to fuck him like that. Look at him... he’s a masterpiece."
"Hey!" Hongjoong’s voice cut through, firm and unyielding. He didn't look away from the glass. "You can watch, but I don’t share. He’s mine."
Seonghwa let out a low, sophisticated chuckle, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. "I can’t believe you actually got him to do this, Joong. Our stoic, powerhouse maknae... reduced to a shivering mess on a display chair."
"He’s a lot more filthy than you guys think," Hongjoong chuckled, his eyes darkening as he watched Jongho let out another loud, vibrating moan that echoed through the lounge. "He’s got a lot of hidden depths."
"Can’t say I’m surprised," Mingi breathed out, his voice low as he watched the way Jongho’s eyes were rolled back, his mouth hanging open in a silent, vibrating scream of pleasure.
"Oh?" Hongjoong tilted his head, looking at Mingi. "What makes you say that?"
"He was my roommate," Mingi replied, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips even as he looked a little flushed. "I’ve spent far too many late nights having to listen to him fantasizing about exactly how he wanted you to break him. This? This is probably his dream come true."
"That’s fair," Hongjoong laughed, his gaze returning to the glass. He pressed a button on the remote, and Jongho’s moan rose an octave, a broken, desperate sound that filled the lounge with the proof of his total surrender. "And I'm more than happy to be the one to make it happen."
Through the hidden speakers, the casual, predatory hum of the lounge conversation filtered directly into the performance room, wrapping around Jongho's ears like cold iron. Every word from his hyungs was crystal clear, stripping away the remaining layers of his dignity until he was entirely exposed under the harsh spotlights.
Jongho’s head thrashed violently against the rigid backrest of the chair, his face burning a dark, deep crimson that pooled down his neck and stained his broad, marked chest. Hearing Mingi expose his deepest, late-night secrets to the entire room made his stomach violently contract, his internal muscles desperately clenching around the silicone toy pulsing inside him. He was trapped, his ankles bound securely to the chair legs, forced to spread wide and present his completely wrecked state to the very men he usually commanded with stoic authority.
"Ngh... ah! No, please—Mingi-hyung, stop," Jongho sobbed out, his usually steady, powerful voice breaking into a ragged, high-pitched whine that echoed directly back into the lounge speakers. He choked on a hot wave of shame, his bound wrists straining so hard against the silk tie that the fabric dug deep into his skin. He was completely at their mercy, his body trembling from the forced exposure as he felt six pairs of eyes burning holes through his bare, sweat-slicked skin from behind the glass.
A loud, vibrating moan tore from his throat, completely unbidden, as the toy inside him shifted its frequency under Hongjoong's ruthless control. It was an ugly, utterly ruined sound that stripped him of his pride, making him twist and writhe frantically against the restraints. His thighs were shaking so violently that the chair legs rattled loudly against the floorboards, his hips lifting in a blind, desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming internal friction.
"Look at me... please look at me, Hyung-ah," Jongho wailed, his head lolling heavily to the side as tears finally spilled over his flushed cheeks. His gaze sought out Hongjoong's silhouette behind the dark glass, his mouth hanging open in a breathless, needy gasp. "I’m a mess... I’m your good little slut, hyung, just please turn it up! Let me come, I beg you, let me break!"
"Look at how worked up he’s getting," Wooyoung’s voice crackled through the speaker, dripping with a cruel, mocking amusement. "You really broke his little pristine cover. He’s begging through the glass, look at his thighs shaking."
"He’s pathetic," Hongjoong’s voice cut in, low and heavy with absolute, unyielding dominance. He pressed the microphone button, speaking directly to the shivering figure on the chair. "Are you embarrassed, Jongho-ya? Do you like hearing your roommates talk about what a desperate, dirty little slut you are for your Captain? Look at the glass. Look at everyone watching you shake."
"Ngh! Ah—H-Hyung!" Jongho choked out, a thick sob breaking past his wet lips as his eyes rolled back into his head. The verbal shaming hit his system like a physical strike, sending a massive, forbidden surge of arousal straight to his lower half. He began to writhe frantically against the silk necktie binding his wrists, his hips bucking upward in a blind, helpless search for friction. He was completely edged, suspended right on the terrifying brink of a climax, but the toy’s current frequency was keeping him trapped in a state of endless, torturous suspension.
"Look at him scream with no one even touching him," San commented through the feed, his voice low and tight with an alpha's territorial focus. "He’s completely ruined. He can't even keep his mouth shut."
"He doesn't need to keep it shut," Hongjoong replied smoothly, his thumb shifting the remote dial slightly to adjust the vibration patterns, keeping Jongho perfectly agonizingly close without letting him cross the line. "He needs to learn exactly how loud he can get when he's on full display. Tell them, Honey. Tell your hyungs what a good, filthy little show-off you are."
Jongho’s chest heaved in ragged, shallow hitches, a trail of saliva slipping from his parted lips as he sobbed openly into the empty room. "I'm—ngh! I'm dirty, hyung! Please... ah! Let me come! Please let me cum, I'm so close, oh my god!"
"Not yet," Hongjoong hissed through the speaker, the sound of his low chuckle echoing inside Jongho's mind. "You stay right there on display until I say otherwise. You're going to sit there and take every single word they say about you."
The focus in the lounge shifted back to the glass, the atmosphere thick with a voyeuristic tension that seemed to vibrate almost as much as the man on the other side. Jongho was a wreck; he was sobbing openly, his head thrashing against the back of the chair while his body jerked and shook in a series of violent, involuntary spasms.
Hongjoong leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he watched the frantic rhythm of Jongho’s chest. He could see the tells—the way Jongho’s toes curled and his inner thighs quivered—signaling that he was dangerously close to another peak. With a slow, sadistic twist of his thumb, Hongjoong dialed the vibration down to its lowest setting.
"Ngh—no! H-Hyung!" Jongho choked on a sob, his body sagging in a sudden, cruel lapse of stimulation. He let out a long, pathetic whine, his bound wrists straining against the chair as he looked toward the glass with a desperate, pleading expression. "Please... don't... don't stop..."
Hongjoong let him linger in that agonizing limbo for a few seconds, grinning as the other members watched the torment in silence. Then, without warning, he snapped the dial back to the maximum.
"AH—! JOONG-AH!"
A harsh, guttural scream ripped from Jongho’s throat. The sudden surge of friction against his overstimulated prostate was enough to make his vision white out. He was shaking so hard the chair rattled against the floor, his hips bucking upward in a blind search for more pressure, more friction, anything to ease the localized lightning striking inside him.
"Please... I'm— I'm gonna—! Please let me!" Jongho’s pleas were broken by airy gasps and wet sobs. He was begging now, his pride long since dissolved in the neon glow of the room. Hongjoong didn't turn it down this time. He watched with a predatory satisfaction as Jongho’s back arched into a sharp, painful bow, his body going rigid as he came for the second time, his head falling back with a silent, breathless cry.
But it didn’t stop.
As Jongho tried to ride out the aftershocks, he expected the buzzing to cease, but the relentless frequency continued. He let out a high-pitched squeal, his body thrashing against the ties as he realized he wasn't being allowed to come down. The pleasure was starting to border on a beautiful, terrifying kind of pain. His mind was a total vacuum, filled with nothing but the pulsing heat between his legs and the dark, commanding image of Hongjoong behind the glass.
"Stop... no, more... please, ngh, more!" His lips moved in a frantic, incoherent slurry of contradictions. He tried to squeeze his legs shut, his muscles screaming, but the ties held him open, forcing him to take every second of the assault.
Hongjoong watched, fascinated, as Jongho’s threshold was pushed to the limit. It didn't take long before the younger man was spiraling into a third, messy climax, his body vibrating so hard it looked as though he might shatter. The moment Jongho’s muscles went slack, slumping back into the chair with a hollow, dazed expression, Hongjoong finally clicked the remote to off.
The silence that followed was heavy. Hongjoong stood up, smoothing out his suit jacket with a calm, practiced air. "The show is over for today, gentlemen," he announced.
The others nodded, some looking more dazed than the man behind the glass. As they filed out of the lounge, Wooyoung stopped at the door, glancing back at the slumped figure of their maknae. "It’d be nice to watch that again," he whispered with a devilish grin. "Maybe next time with a different angle."
Hongjoong’s grin matched his. "We’ll see. Goodnight, Wooyoung-ah."
Once the lounge was empty and Hongjoong had confirmed the others were heading back—with Wooyoung specifically told to stay with Yunho and Yeosang—he walked back into the performance room. He stood in front of Jongho, taking in the sight of the younger man looking completely wrecked. Jongho’s eyes were hooded, fixed on nothing, his mouth hanging slightly open as he breathed in shallow, ragged hitches. He was entirely cock-dumb, his brain turned to mush by the relentless vibrations and the weight of the audience.
Hongjoong knelt down, his fingers nimble as he untied the silk necktie at Jongho’s wrists and the tight bindings at his ankles. The sudden release of the restraints left Jongho’s limbs trembling, but he didn't collapse into a quiet heap. Instead, fueled by a desperate, cock-drunk haze that short-circuited his usual restraint, he lunged forward off the seat.
His fingers, shaking and clumsy, gripped the waistband of Hongjoong’s tailored trousers, tugging at the material with a needy, single-minded focus. He couldn't think straight; the only thing registering in his overstimulated mind was the absolute necessity of having Hongjoong close, of erasing the space between them.
"Hungry, Honey?" Hongjoong asked, his voice dropping right back into that dark, degrading register as he stood completely still, watching Jongho fumble blindly with the zipper. He didn't lift a finger to help; he simply towered over the younger man, looking down with absolute dominance as Jongho finally managed to shove the dark fabric down. "Look at you. Still not satisfied after everything? You’re such a greedy, desperate little thing, aren't you? After all those hyungs sat there and watched you fall apart, you're still on your knees begging for more."
Jongho didn't even try to argue or hide his face. He let out a low, pathetic whine, the sound caught thick in his throat, and surged forward. His mouth found Hongjoong’s front with a frantic, unhinged hunger, his lips wrapping around the older’s cock as he began to give Hongjoong a desperate blowjob. His eyes rolled back under the bright spotlights, his throat working rhythmically as he focused entirely on the taste, the heat, and the solid reality of his Captain.
"Good boy. Take it all," Hongjoong murmured, his hand threading firmly into Jongho's sweat-dampened hair and pulling back just enough to force him to take every inch. "Show me how much you missed having the real thing while those toys were tearing you apart. Look up at the glass while you do it, Jongho-ya. Imagine they're still sitting there, watching you wrap your mouth around your Captain's cock like a total slut."
Jongho let out a choked, wet moan around him, his body shuddering at the verbal blow, but he didn't stop. He sucked him deeper, his hands sliding up Hongjoong's thighs to grip the fabric of his shirt, entirely consumed by the taste and the rough, demanding weight of Hongjoong's hand controlling his movements. He was weeping silently as he lost himself in the pure bliss.
But even the sucking Hongjoong wasn't enough to settle the frantic, aching void pulsing inside Jongho's core. The lingering internal ache left by the toy was driving him insane, and his own leaking cock was throbbing painfully, completely unsatisfied. He pulled away with a wet smack, his face slick and his eyes glazed over in a desperate fog. He crawled completely onto the floorboards, his knees spreading wide as he pushed his hips back toward Hongjoong in a silent, pleading invitation, his bound wrists having left faint red rings on his skin.
"Please... Hyung-ah... please fill me," Jongho begged, his voice a broken, wet rumble that carried absolutely no trace of his usual maknae pride. "I'm empty... please, hyungie, I just want you to fill me up."
"You're completely insatiable tonight," Hongjoong chuckled darkly, stepping forward and gripping Jongho’s waist with iron fingers. He dragged him back against his thighs and lined himself up, sinking into his awaiting hole with one quick motion.
Jongho’s head snapped back, a loud, echoing scream ripping from his lips as Hongjoong began to fuck him with a ruthless, fast rhythm. There was no glass, no audience, and no remote control anymore—just the raw, heavy friction of Hongjoong claiming him completely in the quiet room. Jongho was entirely gone, his mind a total vacuum where only the sensation of Hongjoong existed. He couldn't think, couldn't process anything other than the white-hot lightning striking his prostate with every deep, relentless drive. He thrashed blindly on the floor, his body shaking in rhythmic, helpless spasms as Hongjoong pushed him clean over the cliff.
"Ah! Ah! Hyungie—Joong-ah! Too deep, oh my god, harder!" Jongho wailed, his voice cracking into a desperate, messy sob as he openly wept onto the floorboards.
Jongho sobbed loudly, big, hot tears streaming down his flushed cheeks and mixing with the sweat on his neck. A thick line of drool slipped uncontrollably from his parted lips, dripping down his chin as his mouth hung wide in a breathless, ruined scream of pleasure.
He clutched blindly behind his back, his fingers clawing at the cool floor, begging without a shred of restraint left. "Please, hyung, please don't stop! Break me... break your little slut right here! I’m yours, I’m all yours! Ah, hngh, faster! Give it to me harder!”
"You like it when it's just us, don't you?" Hongjoong growled in his ear, his fingers digging bruisingly deep into Jongho’s hips as he hammered into him without mercy, driving him wild. "Look at you drooling and crying on the floor. Where did our stoic maknae go, hm? Tell me who owns you, Jongho-ya.”
"You... you own me! Hongjoong- ngh- owns me!" Jongho choked out, gasping for air as the heavy friction pushed him closer and closer to the brink. He was shaking so hard his entire body vibrated, his voice dissolving into a slurry of incoherent, wet hitches and desperate, begging whimpers. "Please—I'm gonna—I'm gonna come! Let me, hyungie, please let me!”
A silent, breathless cry left Jongho's lips as his back arched into a sharp bow, coming for the final time with an intensity that made his vision white out completely, his body finally going limp as Hongjoong finished deep inside him with a heavy groan.
The heavy, punishing rhythm stopped instantly, replaced by the soft sound of their tangled breathing echoing off the quiet walls. For a long minute, Hongjoong didn't pull away. He collapsed completely against Jongho's slick back, his arms wrapping tightly around the younger man's waist to hold him flush against his chest, pressing soft, lingering kisses right into the sweat-dampened valley of Jongho’s shoulder blades.
"Good boy," Hongjoong breathed against his skin, his voice dropping all its harsh, degrading edges, replaced by a deep, breathless warmth. "You did so well for me, Baby Bear. Look at how beautiful you are."
Jongho could only let out a weak, broken whine, his muscles twitching helplessly from the sheer weight of the overstimulation. He was completely spent, his forehead resting heavily against the floorboards as he drifted in a warm, dazed fog.
Slowly, carefully, Hongjoong withdrew, letting out a soft hum as he reached for the cleaning supplies he had hidden away. He returned with a basin of warm water and a soft cloth, kneeling down in the spotlights. With an incredible reverence that made Jongho’s chest ache, Hongjoong began to wipe him down. The damp warmth of the cloth chased away the remnants of the sweat and the slick, soothing his oversensitized skin. Every press of the towel was accompanied by a gentle kiss—on his hip, the small of his back, and the back of his thighs—grounding Jongho after the storm.
Once he was fully cleaned, Hongjoong reached for the bundle of clothes he had prepared—a soft, oversized t-shirt that smelled heavily of their shared dorm and a pair of loose cotton shorts. He dressed Jongho with absolute gentleness, lifting his heavy, jelly-like arms and guiding his legs into the fabric as if he were handling something priceless.
Only when Jongho was fully clothed did Hongjoong immediately took both of Jongho's hands into his own, using his thumbs to softly massage the faint red marks left on his skin. He lifted each wrist to his lips, pressing a long, tender kiss against the bruised skin before moving up to cup Jongho's face.
"Look at me, Baby," Hongjoong murmured softly.
Jongho fluttered his heavy eyelids open, his vision still swimming a little. Hongjoong leaned down and pressed their lips together in a sweet, slow kiss that tasted of absolute safety and devotion. It wasn't demanding or possessive like before; it was a quiet reassurance that the show was entirely over, and they were just themselves again. Jongho let out a soft hum against his mouth, melting completely into the touch.
Hongjoong slid his arms smoothly under Jongho’s knees and back, hoisting the younger man effortlessly into a secure, bridal carry. Jongho’s head found its natural home in the crook of Hongjoong’s neck, his nose burying into the collar of the Captain’s shirt as his fingers weakly gripped the fabric. He felt as though he were floating in a warm, hazy bliss where the only anchor was the steady heartbeat beneath his ear.
"You okay, Jongho-ya?" Hongjoong asked softly, his voice echoing in the quiet hallway as he carried him toward the private exit.
"Mhm..." Jongho murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness and sated desire.
"Was it okay?" Hongjoong pressed another soft kiss to his temple, his stride steady and sure as they walked. "The surprise... was it too much for you?"
Jongho tightened his grip on Hongjoong's shirt, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. "It was great," he breathed, the total honesty of the quiet hallway grounding him. "I liked... I liked that it was you."
"Let's go home now, okay?" Hongjoong whispered, stepping out into the cool night air of the parking garage, where the world felt private once again. "The others are already back and I made Wooyoung stay with Yunho and Yeosang. We can just cuddle for the rest of the night."
"Hmm, home," Jongho repeated, the word sounding like a promise.
"Yes, home," Hongjoong smiled, shifting Jongho’s weight to hold him just a little bit closer against his chest. "Where I don't have to share you with anyone."