Work Text:
august 27th
Seonghwa cannot make eye contact with his new neighbors.
They moved into the empty unit next to his own barely a week ago, and now they’re standing at his door holding a plate of cookies, and truly, they do seem quite nice.
The problem is that Seonghwa has spent the past nights hearing them through the paper thin walls as they quite vigorously christen their new apartment. He already knows their names just from hearing them, for god’s sake.
Actually meeting them face-to-face just makes it worse, really.
What makes it the worst is how god awfully attractive they both are. Seonghwa would probably have enough trouble not making a fool out of himself even without knowing what they both sound like during sex.
“Uh…?” Hongjoong, as he had introduced himself, tilts his head with confusion. Seonghwa realizes he’s just been standing in his open door without saying anything.
“Ah, sorry, long day,” Seonghwa lies. It’s Saturday—he hasn’t done anything. “I’m Seonghwa. It’s nice to meet you both.”
Yeosang, introduced as Hongjoong’s partner—though Seonghwa knows him more from the downright filthy things he’s heard the man say through the wall—gives a small wave in greeting.
“We made way too much, and wanted to introduce ourselves anyways, so…” Hongjoong explains, pressing the plate of cookies into Seonghwa’s hands. “Do you know the other people on this floor very well?”
“Not… particularly?” Seonghwa answers, taking the plate carefully. “There’s an older woman in 3C that I help bring in groceries every once in a while, but,” He gestures at the other doors on the floor, “I don’t really know anyone else. I think 3A is another couple…”
“Ah, okay,” Hongjoong nods, smiling kindly. The fluorescent lights reflect on his lip balm, which has the unfortunate effect of reminding Seonghwa about hearing Yeosang groan out how Hongjoong’s lips were perfect for sucking cock the night before—Seonghwa wants to scream. “Well, we’re right next door in 3F, so we’ll see you around, Seonghwa.”
“Nice meeting you,” Yeosang adds. His voice is deeper than his face would betray, although Seonghwa already knows better from having heard him the past few evenings and—jesus, he needs to stop before he says something stupid.
“You too. And thank you for the cookies,” Seonghwa says, though he quietly hopes he won’t see them around very much at all for the sake of his own sanity.
august 27th, evening
Putting a face to the names… and whines, and moans, and various other noises that have infiltrated his bedroom—just makes Seonghwa’s night that much worse.
He almost thought—hoped—they wouldn’t do anything that night, just because seven days in a row seems a tad bit excessive, at least for his own tastes. And for a while it seemed like he was right, when their usual time comes and goes without hearing any noises on the other side of the wall. Seonghwa really thought he was home free as he slipped into bed and scrolled through his phone for a few minutes before sleeping.
But they’re just running late today it seems. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. It’s only a few minutes after he shuts his phone off and rolls over to sleep that he hears the first telltale mattress squeak.
That’s how it always starts: just the squeaks and a few breathy sighs, a quiet moan, a giggle. By now though, Seonghwa knows what to expect. Sighs become grunts and definitely-not-quiet moans and half-whimpered names and expletives that Seonghwa can hear with startling clarity.
It’s made all the worse now that Seonghwa knows what they look like. It’s too easy for his traitorous brain to conjure up images he has no business being privy to.
That same part of his brain also can’t help but wonder what Hongjoong is doing in there, to make Yeosang’s deep voice sound like barely a whine through the wall.
“The neighbors are gonna hear you begging for cock if you don’t quiet down...” Hongjoong’s voice is barely muffled by the probably-less-than six inches of drywall and wood that separates him from Seonghwa’s bed.
Seonghwa has to push down the sardonic, if a little unhinged, laugh that wants to bubble up. The neighbors—this neighbor, at least—is well aware.
He clenches his hands in his sheets as the noises grow more impassioned. He’s half-hard, the unavoidable reality of being a twenty-something in a dry spell, but shame and anger combine to make him unable to even consider doing anything about it. They’ve met and exchanged pleasantries, they brought him cookies for god’s sake.
By the time they’re finally done, Seonghwa’s face is clammy with sweat as if he’s the one who had what sounded like great sex instead of lying in bed and stewing in his own mortification. He gets up to rinse his face with cold, cold water, before slipping back into bed where it is finally quiet enough to sleep.
september 8th
Alright.
Maybe Seonghwa’s a prude.
And he’s not trying to keep count, but it’s been every single night for three straight weeks that he’s heard his neighbors have sex. It just seems like a bit much.
He almost considers saying something the next time he sees them in the lobby or the hallway, but they must keep a different schedule because Seonghwa’s hardly seen them since the cookie delivery. He hasn’t even returned their plate. Either way, he’s not sure if he even has the nerve to initiate such a conversation, or if he even wants them to know he can hear.
But really, do they not get tired?
They must be in the honeymoon phase, or maybe the moving in together endorphins haven’t worn off, or maybe they’re just really, really into each other. Seonghwa could almost admire that kind of passion.
Though he’s more irritated than awe-inspired, especially when he has a meeting first thing in the morning and his neighbors seem to be going for a long session tonight.
A mechanical buzzing noise starts up, faint but noticeable in the otherwise quiet of Seonghwa’s apartment, and he considers smothering himself with his pillow.
He idly wonders if it’d be better or worse if he didn’t—shamefully—find them attractive. And then he attempts to banish that particular train of thought from his head as he grabs his phone off the charger and orders some earplugs online, resigning himself to it all.
september 9th
He’s going to do something about it.
He’s a zombie at work after their marathon session the previous evening, and barely avoids crashing face-first into his couch as soon as he gets home.
No, instead he grabs the plate that’s been sitting on his counter for the better part of a month, and marches himself right over to 3F with more than a few words to share. He knocks a little too loudly.
Yeosang opens the door, smiling as he offers a quiet, “Hi.”
All of Seonghwa’s energy fizzles out at once.
It looks like he might’ve woken Yeosang from a nap, judging by his sleepy-looking expression and the pillow creases dented into his cheek. His hair sticks out under a beanie in blond little tufts and his cardigan is so oversized he’s drowning in it. Even his hands are covered by the too-long sleeves. He looks so warm and soft and Seonghwa might scream.
Yeosang is still standing there, blinking at him. Seonghwa quickly shoves the plate in his hands.
“Ha, sorry, I just realized I never returned this,” Seonghwa says, more of a rush than intended, “The cookies were great by the way, thank you.”
Yeosang smiles, the soft of his cheeks puffing out with it. “Thanks for dropping it off. I’ll tell Hongjoong you liked them.”
“No problem, see you,” Seonghwa says, and waits patiently for Yeosang to wave him goodbye and close the door before booking it back down the hall.
He curses himself the entire way back to his apartment.
september 16th
By week four, Seonghwa may well and truly lose it.
He’s tidying up, and it’s an otherwise peaceful Sunday afternoon when he walks into his bedroom to hear them already going at it on the other side of the wall.
It’s almost as if they’re being louder than usual, on a goddamn Sunday while the sun is still in the sky.
The flash of righteous anger motivates him to drag his bed to the other end of the room. He probably should have done this sooner, perhaps when his earplug order got delayed in shipping, or even before that when it became apparent how often his neighbors have sex.
He’ll still be able to hear it there—he can hear them as soon as he walks into the room—but it’s slightly quieter than being right up against the shared wall and maybe it’ll aid him in learning to tune it out. He’s careless though, frustrated as he pushes and pulls to wrestle the queen-sized bed set across the room before eventually propping the mattress on its side to better maneuver it.
Hardly a moment later, a sharp smack resounds through the wall.
Seonghwa is so momentarily shell-shocked that he barely hears the moan that follows. The mattress slips from his grasp, knocking over his nightstand and sending the cup he had left there to the ground. It crashes loudly to the wooden floor.
The noise shakes Seonghwa out of his daze. “Fuck.”
Only the very edges of his brain register that the noises on the other side of the wall suddenly stop, to be replaced by hushed whispers that he can’t decipher. He stares at the mess instead, righting his nightstand and crouching down to pick up the bigger pieces of glass while cursing himself.
The sudden quiet is a relief, though that only lasts a minute before he hears a knock, and—oh, that’s his own front door. Seonghwa nicks his hand on a chunk of glass in his surprise, swearing loudly again at the sting of pain before he gets up to go answer it.
Not a single part of his brain is prepared to see Hongjoong on the other side of the door. It’s been long enough since their first meeting that Seonghwa’s memory no longer quite holds up, and seeing Hongjoong’s sex-flushed face on his doorstep is a shock to Seonghwa’s entire system. He’s wearing joggers and if Seonghwa didn’t know better he would have figured Hongjoong just came back from a run.
“Hey, we heard a really big crash, is everything alright?” Hongjoong asks.
“Ah, I broke a glass while moving some things around in my bedroom, sorry to startle you,” Seonghwa says.
“Your bedroom?” Hongjoong runs a hand through his slightly sweat-damp hair, and gives Seonghwa a pinched smile. “Thin walls, huh?” He clears his throat, suddenly unable to meet Seonghwa’s eyes, when he finally catches sight of the cut on Seonghwa’s hand. “Shit, you’re bleeding?”
Seonghwa looks down at his hand and—jesus, the slice from the broken glass is bleeding more than he realized. “Oh, the glass, yeah…”
“That looks deep… do you have a first aid kit?” Hongjoong asks, taking Seonghwa’s hand in his with no warning.
Seonghwa’s mind blanks out at Hongjoong’s hands on his own. They’re softer than he would have expected, small with neatly polished nails.
Seonghwa is also pretty sure these hands just spanked Yeosang not two minutes ago.
“Um,” Seonghwa starts. He thinks he has bandages, but they might be flimsy novelty ones with dragons on them. He’s not even sure where they are. “Uh, I think I have some bandaids lying around somewhere…?”
“Just come over, we bought more literally yesterday,” Hongjoong says, and doesn’t wait more than a beat for Seonghwa’s response before he’s tugging him out of the doorway towards his own apartment. His hand is still gently holding Seonghwa’s, mindful of the cut.
“Yeosang? I’m bringing Seonghwa over,” Hongjoong announces as they cross the threshold into his apartment. There’s no response, but Seonghwa still can’t help a blush at it; he knows Hongjoong is only announcing his presence because Yeosang is probably still naked in their bedroom. “The bathroom is this way, er—well, I guess you already know that.”
Their apartment is nice, the mirror image of Seonghwa’s in layout. The living room has art and tapestries tacked up all over the walls, and a coffee table scattered with magazines, books, a few gaming console controllers. A hefty-looking computer setup takes up a whole corner, and an electronic keyboard occupies the space opposite it. The apartment looks remarkably lived-in and cozy, despite how recently they’ve moved in.
Their kitchen is a bit messier than Seonghwa prefers to keep his own, but he’s too distracted by Hongjoong pulling him down the hallway to think much more about it.
“Here we are,” Hongjoong tugs Seonghwa into the bathroom, which really isn’t that large and they’re standing far too close. He turns on the sink tap and Seonghwa takes the cue to rinse his hand off while Hongjoong rifles through the medicine cabinet.
“Thanks. I’m sorry to, uh... interrupt you,” Seonghwa says, wincing at his choice of words.
“It’s not a big deal. You should probably buy bandaids though,” Hongjoong says. He huffs frustratedly a moment later, closing the medicine cabinet and crouching down to dig through the cabinet under the sink. Seonghwa does not stare at his ass, which looks far better than anyone has a right to in sweatpants.
He zones out for a moment before Hongjoong resurfaces. “Gimme a sec, sorry. I think Yeosang moved it.”
He disappears, and Seonghwa is left standing in the bathroom while praying he won’t put his foot in his mouth between now and the time he can finally leave.
Hongjoong is back a moment later, bright red first aid kit in hand and Yeosang, fully dressed, trailing behind him.
“Hey, Seonghwa,” Yeosang says, fitting himself into the bathroom as Hongjoong uses the bathroom counter to dig through the kit. The room technically fits three grown men, but Seonghwa would really prefer a bit more space between himself and the two people he knows were having sex mere minutes prior.
“Hi,” Seonghwa replies, and then shuts up before he can say something stupid. Yeosang’s face is a little flushed still, no doubt from his earlier activities, and his hair is slightly damp with sweat and a bit frizzy.
“Ah, here we are!” Hongjoong says, brandishing a tiny sachet of antibiotic cream and a packet of gauze.
He takes Seonghwa’s hand again, gently, patting it dry with a napkin and squeezing a neat line of the cream over the sluggishly bleeding cut.
It stings, and Seonghwa hisses through his teeth in reflex.
Hongjoong winces. “Should’ve warned you, sorry about that.”
“It’s alright,” Seonghwa says, and then tries not to grimace when one of Hongjoong’s rings unintentionally pinches the edge of Seonghwa’s palm.
“You’re terrible at this,” Yeosang cuts in, drowning out Hongjoong’s second apology.
Hongjoong snorts, and gives Yeosang a chastising swat on the flank, which only makes Yeosang laugh and curl away. Seonghwa is suddenly reminded of the sharp slap he heard through the wall and wants to throw himself from the nearest balcony.
“Sorry about him, too.” Thankfully, Hongjoong quickly finishes applying the gauze and taping it down to Seonghwa’s hand. He pats it gently as he releases Seonghwa. “There you go.”
Seonghwa retracts his hand from Hongjoong’s hold and feels like he can breathe again, though just barely. Being stuffed in this room with both of them is still a little suffocating. He’s quickly shuffled out though, walked to the door with more small talk and pleasantries than expected considering he’s just interrupted their Sunday afternoon sex.
“And uh,” Hongjoong starts as Seonghwa crosses the threshold into the hallway, “Sorry about the… noise? I’m sure we haven’t been the most courteous neighbors…”
He trails off awkwardly, and Yeosang picks up the slack. “We’ll be more mindful in the future. Sorry again.”
Yeosang looks like he’s trying to play it off but the embarrassment on Hongjoong’s face betrays them both. It’s about the sex, now that they’ve realized. Seonghwa almost considers pretending he didn’t hear and making a hasty escape as a mercy to them all.
“Oh, um, thanks. I’m pretty used to this unit being empty, too, so... I’ll be sure to extend the same courtesy,” Seonghwa eventually manages.
He isn’t noisy in his apartment, which they all know. But Hongjoong seems to take the out, a smile cracking his expression as Yeosang huffs a little half-laugh.
“Of course,” Hongjoong says, “Hope your hand heals up quickly!”
“Thanks again. Sorry again for bothering you both.”
“Don’t worry about it, really. Be more careful, though!” Hongjoong playfully chides. Seonghwa can’t tell him it’s their fault he sliced his hand open in the first place.
“See you around, Seonghwa,” Yeosang says, coolly despite the red still tinging the tops of his cheeks.
Seonghwa thinks he’s never been so relieved to be back in his own apartment, going straight to his bedroom and bypassing the mess on the floor to flop face down onto the mattress still in the middle of the room.
september 19th
To their credit, Seonghwa can tell Hongjoong and Yeosang are trying.
In the immediate aftermath, he needed a moment to stare at the ceiling and feel mortified knowing that his neighbors know that he knows what they sound like mid-sex, but mostly, he’d been coping with the knowledge. He hardly saw them anyways, and with the newfound promise of quiet, he would be able to put them out of his mind.
And he mostly can.
His evenings do get better after that uncomfortable conversation, and aside from the occasional wayward giggle or shhh that filters through the wall, it’s like night and day. His bedroom is almost eerily silent when he tries to sleep now. Seonghwa gives himself approximately thirty seconds to wonder if his neighbors are instead having sex in the rooms of the apartment that don’t share a wall with his own before killing that train of thought.
In other ways, it gets a lot worse.
The universe seems to have it out for him, so if he’s not hearing them incessantly, he suddenly starts seeing them far more frequently than before. It’s almost just as bad, considering Seonghwa feels one move away from making a fool of himself in front of two people so absurdly attractive at all times.
It’s hardly a few days after the bandage incident when he sees Yeosang again, sitting in the hallway outside of their apartments when Seonghwa gets home from work.
“Hey Seonghwa,” Yeosang greets, giving a small smile and a wave. The sight is a visceral reminder of their last interaction, which sends a fresh wave of discomfort through Seonghwa’s limbs. Yeosang seems to have no such lingering mortification.
He’s sitting casually against the wall, looking out of place on the dingy carpet. There’s a few bags of groceries on the ground with him, and an open package of gummy candies in his lap. His hair is cutely tied back into the tiniest of ponytails. Seonghwa really doesn’t have the capacity to deal with this interaction.
But he can at least be polite, so he slows to return a wave as he passes. “Hi, good to see you.”
“You too,” Yeosang says.
Seonghwa has his door unlocked a moment later, and looks back over to where Yeosang is still sitting on the ground idly messing with his phone. Curiosity gets the better of him.
“Uh, are you… waiting for something?”
“Yeah, forgot my keys and didn’t realize until after Hongjoong had left to run an errand. I’m just waiting on him,” Yeosang explains.
“Oh… is it going to be a while?” Seonghwa asks, mostly to be polite. He’s not sure if he can deal with inviting Yeosang into his apartment, but he’d feel bad if Yeosang had to sit out here alone for too long.
“He’ll be back pretty soon.” Yeosang shrugs, and after a moment of consideration, holds out his bag of candies towards Seonghwa. “Want some?”
“Yeah, sure.” Seonghwa comes closer to grab a few gummies from the offered bag. “Thanks.”
Seonghwa looks around the poorly-lit hallway for a moment, and considers the grungy carpet. Yeosang seems content to stay out here, but it seems… rude to just leave him alone. After another moment of hesitation, he sits down against the wall opposite Yeosang. He tosses the candy in his mouth and hopes it comes across as casual.
Yeosang looks surprised for a moment by Seonghwa sitting with him, though it quickly fades to a minuscule smile.
They sit in a silence that he assumes Yeosang finds comfortable, but feels like torture to Seonghwa. He’s gotten the impression that Yeosang is a bit more... reticent, perhaps, than his partner, so if Seonghwa wants conversation it seems like he’ll have to make it himself.
He swallows past any lingering discomfort and tries.
“Thanks again for the bandages, by the way, I appreciate it,” Seonghwa says. Not his best opener.
“Oh, yeah, no problem. Your hand doing alright?” Yeosang asks.
“It is, thank you. And I remembered to buy bandaids over the weekend,” Seonghwa says. He gestures with the injured hand, gauze replaced with a regular bandaid now that it’s nearly healed over.
Yeosang nods. “Oh, good.”
Yeosang fishes another candy out of the bag and pops it into his mouth. Seonghwa has to look away when Yeosang licks off the sour coating that stuck to his fingers. His eyes find one of the shopping bags at Yeosang’s side instead. A box of condoms is clearly visible through the semi-opaque plastic. Ultra Thin for Ultra Sensitivity. 48 count — Value Size!
Seonghwa can’t even think clearly enough to pass judgement over Yeosang’s lack of a reusable grocery bag.
“Are you both liking the apartment so far?” Seonghwa continues, instead of staring at the wall and pretending not to watch Yeosang lick his fingers in his peripheral vision.
“Yeah, this neighborhood is way closer to Hongjoong’s office. And I work from home, so having a bigger place is nice,” Yeosang says.
“Ah, I moved for an easier commute too,” Seonghwa says, and then as his own curiosity begs him to: “So… you two have lived together for a while?”
Yeosang smiles sweetly at the mention of his boyfriend. “Since right after college, yeah. We met way before that, though.”
Yeosang’s expression goes a bit moony, cheeks puffed with the tiny smile that breaks his face. He’s not looking at anything in particular but obviously thinking about Hongjoong, and it makes Seonghwa’s heart hurt just a little. Of course they’re college sweethearts, of course.
“That’s… nice,” Seonghwa says lamely.
“It is,” Yeosang says, sweet look still on his face. He stands up from the floor a moment later, leaving Seonghwa staring up at him. “God, this floor is uncomfortable.”
Yeosang stretches his hands above his head with a satisfied groan, his sweatshirt lifting to reveal a few purpling marks around his hips, and Seonghwa’s thoughts quickly take a nosedive from wallowing in loneliness to Oh god what the fuck. He’s not surprised to see that Yeosang is marked up, not surprised at all considering what he used to hear on a regular basis. He has such nice skin, ethereal really, so it’d be a shame if someone wasn’t—
Hongjoong thankfully returns before Seonghwa’s brain melts out of his ears.
“Hey, Sang, sorry—oh, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong comes to a stop in the hallway, a couple bags in his hands. Yeosang makes a sound of relief and grabs his groceries.
Seonghwa stands quickly, brushing nonexistent dirt off his pants. He’s still flustered, like Hongjoong could somehow hear his rapidly-approaching-depraved thoughts.
“I got back from work a few minutes ago, and Yeosang was out here alone, so...” Seonghwa gestures at nothing. It’s hardly a reason.
But Hongjoong smiles. “Oh, that’s nice of you.”
“Yeah, thanks for the company,” Yeosang says, placing a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder and squeezing gently while Hongjoong unlocks their door. “See you around.”
“See you,” Seonghwa says, the words spilling out a bit too quickly. Yeosang’s hand has him frozen to his spot, and as soon as he removes it, Seonghwa books it back to his own apartment.
september 30th
It becomes easier to be less of a strung-up weirdo as he continues to bump into both Yeosang and Hongjoong.
Seonghwa hardly hears anything aside from their apartment anymore aside from the occasional slightly-too-loud-exclamation, which helps, but they both make an effort to greet him or at least wave when he sees them in passing too, which happens all the more frequently. He starts getting used to this easy existence with his neighbors, making small talk when he sees Hongjoong in the mailroom or saying hi to Yeosang in the halls.
He spots Hongjoong one evening in the parking garage, struggling in front of his car trunk with a pile of boxes in his arms.
“Hey, need a hand?” Seonghwa asks, quickly pocketing his keys to jog over and support the box nearly slipping from Hongjoong’s grip.
“Shit, thanks,” Hongjoong says. They rebalance for a moment, Seonghwa taking two of the heavier-than-expected boxes so that Hongjoong can retrieve his keys and pop open the trunk. He heaves his remaining box into the car with a sigh. “Appreciate it, my job would’ve had my ass if I broke something.”
“It’s no problem,” Seonghwa says, depositing his two boxes into the trunk as carefully as he can.
“I have a couple more by the elevator, would you mind…?” Hongjoong says.
Seonghwa nods and follows him, where they collect another armful of boxes to haul to the car.
“Speakers,” Hongjoong explains as they walk back, nodding towards the boxes, “I was doing some work from home while my office got renovated, and things sound different on different speakers, y"know? So I brought my setup home to make sure everything was sounding right.”
There’s a lot of information to absorb there, first being that Hongjoong has his own office. Seonghwa’s cubicle is a little envious.
“So do you uh, work in music?”
Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, Sangie might’ve mentioned I work at a studio? KQ, the building is pretty close. I’m in production.”
Seonghwa doesn’t think Yeosang mentioned that, but he nods along. “That seems really cool. Anything I’ve heard?”
There’s a belated realization that it’s probably an annoying question to get, though Hongjoong is answering before Seonghwa has the chance to cringe too hard and take it back.
“Probably not?” Hongjoong says, and then laughs at Seonghwa’s apologetic wince. “I haven"t exactly worked on many chart-toppers yet. But eventually, yeah.”
Seonghwa helps Hongjoong arrange the rest of the boxes into the trunk, a brief puzzle as they try to fit everything together. Hongjoong closes it with a slam that echoes in the parking garage.
“Maybe… you could send me a link to something you’ve worked on?” Seonghwa manages to ask after, when they’re just loitering by the car.
“Oh?” Hongjoong lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, I can do that. Give me your phone.”
Seonghwa hands it over, and Hongjoong taps away to create a new contact.
“I added Yeosang’s number too, just in case! Neighborly emergencies or something, bandaids, you know,” Hongjoong shrugs, “But I’ll send you some stuff I’ve worked on.”
“Cool. I’m excited to listen.”
They go their separate ways after that—Seonghwa up to his apartment and Hongjoong off to his office—but Seonghwa gets a text later that night with a handful of youtube links and a soundcloud profile. He bookmarks them all.
october 2nd
october 8th
It’s after another week of mostly quiet, aside from the occasional mailroom interaction, and Seonghwa is eagerly awaiting his Friday evening.
The week was hellish and he can’t even blame the lack of sleep on his neighbors, barely awake enough to get through his day. And then the heavens open up on his way home to soak him all the way to his skin right before he gets home.
Seonghwa can only hope he didn’t catch a cold as he finally makes it into his apartment, strips out of his dripping clothes, and immediately gets into a hot shower to warm up and decompress from the week.
Of course, that’s when the power decides to go out.
He blinks in surprise a few times, waiting for the lights to blip back on from a power surge but there’s nothing. Just darkness and the sound of running water. He quickly rinses the rest of the conditioner out of his hair, taking care not to trip or break something as he dries off and gets dressed. The rest of his apartment is pitch black too, darker than usual with no ambient light streaming in through the windows from outside.
The whole block must be out.
Navigating his apartment by memory and his slowly adjusting eyes isn’t too hard though. He grabs his phone from the nightstand in his bedroom, unplugging it from the now-useless charger and trying not to despair when he finds it’s only charged to ten percent. That’s fine, it’s fine, he opens the nightstand drawer instead to fumble around for the flashlight he knows is stashed there. That’ll be enough light to cook dinner, and maybe read for a bit, and then he can just go to sleep early if the power isn’t back by then.
Really, not even the worst Friday night he’s had.
Click.
It stays dark.
Click click clickclickclick. Seonghwa uselessly presses the flashlight’s on button over and over, though it’s clear the batteries are dead. Dammit.
Well… he supposes he could go out and buy more, though he’d rather sit blindly in the dark for the rest of the night than go out in the freezing rain again. That does leave another option, one that is slightly less uncomfortable to consider.
He finds himself knocking on the door to apartment 3F just a few moments later.
Yeosang answers, opening the door with a candle in his hand and the warm glow of several more candles spilling out from behind him. It takes a moment for Seonghwa’s eyes to adjust. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Hi, sorry to bother, but do you happen to have batteries?” Seonghwa gestures with the dead flashlight in his hand. “My phone is almost dead too, or I’d use that.”
“Ah, I’m not sure…” Yeosang turns his head to address Hongjoong, just past the doorway lighting more candles in the living room. “Hongjoong, batteries? Seonghwa needs some.”
“I’ll check.” Hongjoong disappears towards the kitchen, returning a few moments later with two unlit candles in his hands that he offers towards Seonghwa. “Sorry, we don’t have batteries either, but you can take a few candles if you’d like.”
Seonghwa accepts them gratefully. “I appreciate it. Wasn’t looking forward to making dinner in the dark.”
“On the stove?” Yeosang quirks a brow. “The burners are electric… they won’t work when the power’s out.”
“Oh,” Seonghwa says, taking a moment for the words to process. “Oh shit.”
Yeosang and Hongjoong share a look between them for a moment while Seonghwa stands dumbly in their doorway and tries to remember if there’s anything dinner worthy in his cabinets that doesn’t need heat.
“Wanna hang with us tonight, then? We just had food delivered, there’s plenty to share,” Hongjoong offers.
“Oh,” Seonghwa says, and maybe if he had more time to weigh his options he would decide this is in fact a terrible choice, but Hongjoong and Yeosang are watching him expectantly so he nods quickly. “That’d be really nice, thank you.”
They lead him into the apartment, towards the kitchen where there"s only a handful of candles compared to the living room. It’s a mirror of Seonghwa’s own, so he turns and blindly knocks into a counter that he usually expects on the other side of the small room. Yeosang laughs behind him.
“Hope pizza is okay,” Hongjoong says, opening a cabinet to get plates.
“Sounds perfect,” Seonghwa says, serving himself before following them into the living room. The television is out of commission with no power, but Yeosang’s laptop is half charged and he sets it on the coffee table to queue up some Marvel movie he has downloaded.
“Thanks again, for all this,” Seonghwa says, once they’ve settled in and started eating. He’s claimed the armchair for himself and left the couch for Hongjoong and Yeosang—he doesn’t think he could handle sitting close to either of them for the duration of a movie. “Hope I didn’t mess up your Friday plans?”
Hongjoong waves one pizza sauce spattered hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. We’ve been meaning to invite you over sometime anyways.”
“Oh,” Seonghwa says, chuckling nervously when Yeosang nods along to Hongjoong’s words, like they’re actually true. Seonghwa takes another bite of his pizza instead of a response.
Thankfully, it’s… somehow less uncomfortable than Seonghwa thought it would be, as they start the movie.
Yeosang and Hongjoong are good company, and have clearly seen this movie several times judging by their jokes and the way Yeosang will mutter particularly exciting lines of dialogue under his breath a half second before they happen.
And Seonghwa, to his credit, pays attention to the plot as much as possible. It’s hard to not to glance over, the way they’re both so frustratingly hot and sitting in Seonghwa’s line of sight for longer than he’s ever been around them before, but he restrains any staring to appropriate one-to-two minute intervals.
Like this, they seem so much less... untouchable than they appeared in passing conversations in the hallways. They’re not the unbearably attractive, possibly demonic, somewhat annoying disturbance to his sleep schedule that he could barely muster up the nerve to talk to. Here, Seonghwa can see how Hongjoong’s face scrunches up with laughter at objectively unfunny jokes, or the way it seems like Yeosang gets more pizza sauce on his face instead of in his mouth. He can look more closely at the art on the walls, the eclectic decor, framed pictures chronicling what seems to be years of their lives together.
They’re just… normal.
He catches sight of Hongjoong fussing over Yeosang and wiping his face clean, and somehow even that is endearing. It makes a weird guilt clench in Seonghwa’s stomach, seeing them be sweet with each other while he sits and watches like some weird voyeur to their romance—especially after feeling like an actual voyeur for a significant amount of the time he’s known them.
Even considering all that, Yeosang’s laptop battery holds up and the movie manages to go by without Seonghwa making a fool of himself, so he’ll call it a win despite this new variety of discomfort that makes residence in his stomach.
“Hey, Seonghwa,” Yeosang starts as the credits roll. He pauses as soon as Seonghwa looks at him, his expression turning oddly bashful. “Uh… Hongjoong wanted to ask you something.”
Hongjoong narrows his eyes at Yeosang, shoving him in the leg with his foot and an expression that makes it pretty clear this isn’t the first time Yeosang has put him on the spot like this. Hongjoong looks a bit more sheepish when he finally meets Seonghwa’s eyes.
Seonghwa isn’t quite sure what he thinks Hongjoong is going to ask, or why it’s seemingly so contentious. He could maybe make a few educated guesses, but none of them come close to what actually comes out of Hongjoong’s mouth a moment later:
“We wanted to ask if you would be interested in sleeping with us.”
Seonghwa chokes on absolutely nothing, eyes wide as he turns away to cough into his elbow for an agonizing moment.
“Sleep with you?” He eventually wheezes out, idly wondering if his hot neighbors also have a penchant for long-con pranks, because somehow that seems more likely than being invited into their bed.
“As in, sex,” Yeosang clarifies, as if the implication of sleep with is what Seonghwa is confused about. “Like a threesome,” He continues, and Seonghwa waves his hands in an attempt to stop him from clarifying further.
“Feel free to say no, obviously!” Hongjoong quickly adds, “We’ve talked about it, and we’re interested, so we just wanted to ask. But you can tell us to fuck off if we’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable!” Seonghwa blurts, which is only half true but at least takes the increasingly nervous looks off of Hongjoong and Yeosang’s faces. “I just… was not expecting the question. You mean like right now?”
Hongjoong nods. “If you’re up for it. But we could reschedule, whatever works.”
Seonghwa clenches and unclenches his hands. He looks between Hongjoong and Yeosang carefully. They’re undeniably attractive, sickeningly in love, and apparently they want him. Seonghwa would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t thought about it at least one or two or two dozen times since that first night.
He clears his throat. His next words come slowly, awkwardly stumbled out over his tongue: “I am also... interested.”
“Yeah?” Hongjoong actually manages to look surprised, though Seonghwa can’t imagine why. He doubts Hongjoong and Yeosang get very many no’s on their offers.
“Yeah,” Seonghwa says, and it’s true. Looking between them, knowing now that he can have them… he wants. “I’m sure.”
Hongjoong’s face lights up with something approaching mischievous, and Yeosang follows with a delicate smile of his own. It almost doesn’t fit the way he shifts in his seat, something eager there like he’s getting ready to pounce.
After Hongjoong gives him an encouraging swat to the thigh, Yeosang finally asks: “Can I kiss you?”
Seonghwa looks from Yeosang to Hongjoong and back again, still not entirely sure this is actually happening. But Hongjoong just nods, more eager to see his boyfriend kiss someone else than Seonghwa would expect.
“Yeah, you can.”
Yeosang stands, and moves to sit on the arm of Seonghwa’s armchair. Seonghwa doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to Yeosang as he leans in—at this distance he seems even more flawless. His hand on Seonghwa’s jaw is firm, tilting his head just slightly to the side before finally closing the distance to connect their lips.
Yeosang’s lips are just as chapstick soft as they look, and at first hesitant in his press against Seonghwa’s. It’s not until Seonghwa moves to press their lips together more firmly and deepen it that Yeosang starts to kiss him harder, bringing a hand up to the back of Seonghwa’s neck and holding him steady. Seonghwa feels like he’s kissing back embarrassingly eager as Yeosang stays slow, tongue slipping into Seonghwa’s mouth like he has all the time in the world.
He pulls away when Hongjoong clears his throat to get their attention. Some part of Seonghwa still expects… jealousy, or anger in Hongjoong’s eyes, but he’s just watching them hungrily.
“I hate to interrupt...” Hongjoong starts. Yeosang huffs a laugh under his breath, detangling his hand from Seonghwa’s hair and pulling away as Hongjoong stands. “Why don’t we move to our bedroom?”
Seonghwa helps them gather a few candles and snuff out the rest in the living room before following them down a hallway mirror-image to his own. They half-stumble into the bedroom, taking a moment to place the candles down on any available surface. Yeosang lights a few more, and the room is slowly revealed under the gentle yellow light.
Yeosang and Hongjoong’s bedroom is just as cozy as the rest of their apartment, if a bit more disorganized. There’s an open dresser drawer that Hongjoong hip-checks closed, a stray pant leg still hanging out of the side.
Seonghwa puts down his last candle, shifting uncomfortably on his feet now that he no longer has a task. There’s eyes on him, expectant ones, but with the short trip to the bedroom he’s lost the confidence that moved him to agree in the first place.
His gaze catches on the wall behind the bed. There’s gray squares of acoustic foam hung up there, a diamond pattern across the length of the wall.
A respectable attempt at installing soundproofing.
The tension breaks, and Seonghwa wheezes with a laugh that feels ripped out of him.
Yeosang follows his gaze to the foam panels, and cracks into a laugh too. “That was Hongjoong’s idea. He stole them from the studio.”
“I didn’t steal—” Hongjoong starts, and gives up when it only prompts more laughter. “We did it for you!”
“I feel like it was for us, though. Like to keep having sex?” Yeosang muses.
“Yeosang.”
Hongjoong’s indignance just makes it funnier, and the nerves that had settled in Seonghwa’s limbs bleed out as he laughs in the middle of their bedroom. It’s not even intimidating when Hongjoong strides right into his space.
“Are you just going to keep laughing at me or can we kiss?” Hongjoong says. There’s humor in his expression but something dark there too that never fully fizzled out.
Yeosang’s remaining giggles quickly end as Seonghwa leans down to finally kiss Hongjoong.
Hongjoong dives in with an energy that nearly knocks Seonghwa off his feet, clear he’s been raring to go since the conversation in the living room. It’s hot and it’s dizzying, though Seonghwa still feels acutely aware of the other presence in the room.
Yeosang ends up behind him, rucking up Seonghwa’s shirt and splaying a hand low on his stomach, pinky brushing the waistband of Seonghwa’s pants.
“Can I take this off?” Yeosang says, tugging at the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt. Seonghwa agrees as much as he can with Hongjoong still kissing him senseless, awkwardly adjusting his arms to pull them through the sleeves as Yeosang wrestles with the shirt. He finally pulls away when Yeosang needs to get the shirt up over his head.
Hongjoong removes his own clothes with much less of a production—his shirt comes flying off and into a dark corner of the room as he shimmies his pants off, and then he’s gesturing at Yeosang to urge him to strip too.
It’s the movement of Hongjoong’s arm that makes the candlelight fall just slightly differently, and Seonghwa finally sees it. Or them, really.
Hongjoong’s nipples are pierced.
“Holy shit.”
“See something you like?” Hongjoong says, smirking like a bastard and now Seonghwa’s the one being laughed at and he should really be more ashamed of the way that goes straight to his dick.
But he can only nod dumbly, drawn in like a magnet as Hongjoong steps back and sits on the edge of the bed.
“Can I?” He asks, hands outstretched to touch Hongjoong but hovering in the air.
“Of course,” Hongjoong says. That damned smirk is still on his face.
He finally gets his hands on Hongjoong, trailing up his ribs to his chest to toy at the piercings. He rubs over them gently with the pads of his fingers, feeling the contrast between Hongjoong’s flushed skin and the cool metal of the jewelry. Hongjoong sighs sweetly with the attention.
“You can go harder than that,” Yeosang says, sliding up behind Seonghwa and reaching around him to pinch roughly at Hongjoong’s nipple. “He likes a little pain.”
The hissed expletive Hongjoong looses in response seems to support Yeosang’s statement, and Seonghwa takes the cue to rub a little harder at the piercings, leaning in to tentatively put his mouth on a nipple, flicking the cool metal with his tongue and feeling it warm up.
It makes Hongjoong squirm pleasantly, and Seonghwa doubles down in his efforts, a hand finding Hongjoong’s waist to keep him still.
He can hear Yeosang doing something nearby, a rustle of clothes and the scraping close of a drawer just in his periphery. It’s distracting, though Seonghwa doesn’t let it pull his attention away from his task too much. The hand on Hongjoong’s waist slips down to palm Hongjoong’s cock over his boxers, pulling another curse from him.
“You’re good with your mouth, aren’t you?” Hongjoong says.
Hongjoong’s tone is teasing, goading Seonghwa, and he gladly takes the bait. He leaves a few lingering nips to Hongjoong’s chest and neck on his trail back up, before finally taking his lips again and savoring the way Hongjoong moans into his mouth.
Yeosang reappears with a hand on Seonghwa’s waist that makes him startle. He presses himself to Seonghwa’s back, a shameless erection pressing against Seonghwa’s thigh as he’s forced to bend forward even more over Hongjoong. Yeosang boldly dips a hand down Seonghwa’s pants, skimming lightly over his briefs and making Seonghwa shiver as he grazes over skin.
“What do you want to do tonight, Seonghwa?” Yeosang asks, his low voice a murmur. “What do you like?”
“Uh...” Seonghwa licks his already-wet lips as he moves away from Hongjoong’s mouth. He doesn’t really have much of an intelligent answer to produce beyond someone touching my dick soon, please. “What do you two... usually do?”
“Lots of things,” Yeosang says, and it’s cryptic but Seonghwa doesn’t doubt it. Based on what he’s heard alone, he knows they have… varied tastes. Beyond that, Seonghwa’s brain is rapidly losing cognitive function as Yeosang unbuttons his pants and Hongjoong leans up to bite cruelly at Seonghwa’s ear. “But what do you like?”
“Fuhh-uck,” Seonghwa breathes out, panting embarrassingly as Yeosang grinds the palm of his hand against Seonghwa’s cock through his boxers.
Hongjoong smirks, something devilish in his eyes. “You like to fuck, handsome?”
It’s not a rhetorical question. Hongjoong watches him expectantly and even Yeosang’s hands pause.
“Um. Yes?” Seonghwa manages lamely. Hongjoong lifts an eyebrow, so Seonghwa clears his throat and continues. “I do. Like to. Yes.”
Yeosang laughs behind him, and Seonghwa feels like a mouse caught between two hungry cats. His skin is burning with a red flush all the way down his chest, embarrassment only making him want them more. At least his answer gets Yeosang moving again, nudging Seonghwa to step out of his pants completely and leaving him in his boxers.
“Mmh, good,” Hongjoong says, “Cause I’d really like you to fuck me.”
Seonghwa nods dumbly, throat going dry. He has to swallow thickly before he can speak again, a jumbled yes please spilling out much to Hongjoong’s delight.
Yeosang must’ve been preparing things in his absence, as he’s pressing a bottle of lube into Hongjoong’s hands before Seonghwa even has his bearings. The bottle is—well, it’s huge, though he supposes that’s to be expected, comically large in Hongjoong’s hands. It even has a pump, putting the little six-ounce squeeze bottle in Seonghwa’s nightstand to shame.
“Should I…?” Seonghwa gestures vaguely between the lube and Hongjoong, but he’s waved off.
“I’ve got it. Why don’t you two put on a show for me, hm?” Hongjoong says. He moves to recline against the pillows, finally stripping out of his boxers. He lets his knees tip open to reveal himself teasingly, and pumps a generous amount of lube over his fingers.
Seonghwa scrambles to follow instructions, and there’s a moment of shuffling around as he and Yeosang join Hongjoong on the bed.
Seonghwa hadn’t gotten a good look at Yeosang since he undressed, but now he finally has a moment. It’s dim with only candlelight, but it’s enough to see the way Yeosang’s muscles move as he settles on the bed, arms flexing as he props himself up. It’s like he’s sculpted from marble, and only when Seonghwa notices he appears to be waiting does he realize he’s just been unabashedly staring at Yeosang’s body.
Though, he supposes it’s acceptable, given the situation.
“He’s really hot, isn’t he?” Hongjoong says. There’s a hand between his thighs that Seonghwa can’t quite see from this angle, except for his shoulder that makes it clear he’s doing something. “Go on,” Hongjoong prompts, when Seonghwa does nothing but stare between them.
Seonghwa finally moves, following Yeosang to settle over him and bracing a hand on the mattress to lean down for a kiss.
Yeosang still takes his time, even now as things have gotten more heated. His tongue prodding past Seonghwa’s lips is almost lazy, slowly mapping out Seonghwa’s mouth as Seonghwa grows more desperate for contact.
That desperation urges Seonghwa to swing a leg over Yeosang and settle his weight onto strong thighs. Like this, he can roll his hips into Yeosang’s, pressing him down into the mattress and pulling a moan from them both.
Yeosang’s hands are strong as they grip Seonghwa’s thighs, pulling him closer as they grind against each other, groans muffled in their mouths. Even like this he’s less talkative than Hongjoong, pulling away from the kisses only to pant or moan, showing approval and encouragement with his hands instead.
He eventually tangles a hand in Seonghwa’s hair, giving an experimental tug. Seonghwa moans at the jolt of pleasure-pain, and that’s encouragement enough for Yeosang to give him a harder yank, pulling Seonghwa’s head back with it and making him arch his back.
Seonghwa gasps, and when Yeosang releases his hair, he nips meanly at his lips in retaliation. It’s not much of a punishment considering the way Yeosang moans.
They’re supposed to be putting on a show, so Seonghwa trails a hand up Yeosang’s chest, up the soft skin of his neck to the scrape of barely-there stubble at his chin. He traces a finger over Yeosang’s wet lips, the way they’ve gently plumped from being bitten. Yeosang lets his pretty mouth tip open, accepting two of Seonghwa’s fingers to suck on lewdly.
“God,” Hongjoong groans out, “You two…”
He’s flushed down past his neck now, piercings catching the candlelight as his chest rises and falls with harsh breaths. He shifts, legs at an angle that allows Seonghwa to see more, the way Hongjoong easily pumps three fingers into himself.
Seonghwa matches his pace with the slide of his fingers into Yeosang’s mouth. Yeosang seems no stranger to putting on a show either, arching his back to roll his hips up against Seonghwa and moaning around the fingers in his mouth.
When Seonghwa pulls away, he’s far more winded than he feels he should be.
“Ready for him?” Yeosang says, ostensibly asking Hongjoong but it feels like a question for them both.
“Yeah, fuck, I’ve been ready,” Hongjoong says. He sits up, sliding his fingers out and retrieving a condom from where Yeosang left a handful on the nightstand.
Seonghwa untangles himself from Yeosang and inches closer, finally stripping off his boxers. There’s an embarrassing wet patch on the front but he hardly has time to care as Hongjoong whistles his appreciation at the sight of his cock.
“We should’ve invited you over before,” Yeosang says.
Yeosang is tasked with opening the condom wrapper as his hands are the least lube-or-spit-covered, and he takes the liberty of rolling it onto Seonghwa with well practiced fingers. He doesn’t even look as he does it, staring up into Seonghwa’s eyes instead and the simple action is so unexpectedly lewd that Seonghwa feels lightheaded.
They rearrange for a moment, and Seonghwa fits himself between Hongjoong’s gorgeous thighs as Yeosang settles to Hongjoong’s side, stealing his mouth for a kiss that Seonghwa unabashedly stares at.
“Ready?”
“Mmhmm…”
Finally pushing into Hongjoong is torturous. He’s so hot, and Yeosang keeps kissing the moans from his lips, and Seonghwa is already halfway to overwhelmed. Ultra thin for ultra sensitivity, he remembers, and quietly curses.
Hongjoong sighs as Seonghwa bottoms out, wiggling his hips as he gets used to the feeling before urging Seonghwa on. Seonghwa tries to keep steady, carefully working up a pace and responding to the encouraging sounds Hongjoong makes, sounds he’s startlingly familiar with.
“God, I knew you’d fuck good,” Hongjoong says, and it’s so crude but right now it’s perfect and something hot boils inside of Seonghwa.
He’s determined to live up to that assessment, fitting his hands over Hongjoong’s narrow hips and rocking into him hard. It makes Hongjoong groan and arch his back up off the bed, and Yeosang makes an appreciative noise at the sight.
He thought the presence of a second person would make him nervous during this part, perhaps a shade of performance anxiety, but it doesn’t. He’s constantly aware of Yeosang’s presence, the way he’s tucked against Hongjoong’s side with a hand down his boxers as he watches, but it doesn’t make Seonghwa nervous. It just makes the heat under his skin spike, the urge to impress them both spurring him on, only further encouraged by Hongjoong digging his heels into the backs of Seonghwa’s thighs.
“This how you like it?” Seonghwa asks.
“Mmh, fuck,” Hongjoong gasps out, “You would—ah!—know, you take notes on what you huh-heard through the walls?”
That makes Seonghwa’s pace falter for a moment, and they both notice, Hongjoong managing a mean little giggle despite how breathless he is. Seonghwa’s attempt to respond is a half-strangled noise that betrays how much the teasing—and the sex—has replaced any cognitive thought in his brain.
“Hear anything you like?” Hongjoong teases, and Seonghwa’s hips kick forward out of rhythm. “Too soon?”
“Don’t be mean, Hongjoongie. Seonghwa’s been so nice and you’re being mean,” Yeosang chides, but there’s a tiny smirk breaking through his lust-clouded expression. His next words are for Seonghwa: “We can gag him next time.”
“Hey!”
Yeosang moves from his spot before Seonghwa can even process the words, finally ditching his boxers and revealing the rest of his pretty skin. Seonghwa gets a gratifying moment to touch when Yeosang leans in for a kiss, a brief press of lips made uncoordinated by arousal.
“Is that what—is that what you’ve done? To keep quiet?” Seonghwa manages to ask. Images of Yeosang carefully fastening a ballgag around Hongjoong’s head to quiet him down during sex flood Seonghwa’s mind, and he might die if he doesn’t know.
“Doesn’t really keep him quiet,” Yeosang says. He strokes a hand down the sweaty lines of Seonghwa’s back, grabbing at his ass and pushing him forward to fuck into Hongjoong harder. Hongjoong whines, eyes fluttering closed. “Just stops the talking.”
Seonghwa files that information away for… something, to think about while jerking off for the rest of his life probably, and redoubles his efforts into fucking Hongjoong well enough that he can’t speak.
Though Yeosang helps out on that front, too. He strokes a hand through Hongjoong’s damp hair, the reverence a contrast to his next words: “Wanna suck me off?”
Hongjoong nods eagerly, and Yeosang kneels at his side, knees spread wide so his hips are nice and low and level with Hongjoong’s face. Then he’s tilting Hongjoong’s head with a firm hand on his chin, sliding his cock into Hongjoong’s mouth in one smooth movement. Hongjoong takes it easily, a well-trained throat.
It’s a conscious effort for Seonghwa not to come on the spot from the sight.
Hongjoong manages to suck Yeosang off with more enthusiasm than he’d expect from someone getting fucked at the same time, and Seonghwa changes tempo a little vindictively. It feels like a victory when Hongjoong’s hand flies up to slam against the headboard with a groan around Yeosang’s cock, an attempt to keep himself steady.
“You take it so well,” Yeosang says, a low murmur that sounds like it’s just for Hongjoong. His deep voice sounds wrecked. He winds a hand in Hongjoong’s hair, more tender than expected. “Both of us.”
It’s almost too much, the sensation and the visuals and just all of Seonghwa’s senses firing off at once. He’s long since known they were loud in bed, but being privy to it in person is an entirely different, dizzying experience. He’s well aware he’s being loud himself, unable to help the sounds pulled straight from his chest on every thrust, and he’s lucky it’s only his own empty apartment on the other side of the wall. Seonghwa feels himself flying closer to the edge, and grabs Hongjoong’s thigh to spread him open wider and uses the new leverage to give him everything he can.
Hongjoong gasps, almost choking on Yeosang. His hand moves from where it’s tangled in the blankets to his cock, roughly stroking himself off as his legs tense around Seonghwa’s waist. Seonghwa doesn’t even have the chance to offer his own hand before Hongjoong is seizing up and spilling come over his hand and stomach so prettily.
Yeosang pulls out to let Hongjoong breathe, and his cock is nearly dripping with spit to ease the slide as he jerks himself off, panting harshly for a moment as his eyes squeeze shut and he comes onto Hongjoong’s chest with a gasp.
“Fuck, yes,” Hongjoong groans out.
Some of it spatters across one of Hongjoong’s piercings, and Seonghwa is pretty sure the sight of the two in front of him will be burnt into his memory forever. He grinds his hips forward one last time and lets himself break, vision going blurry as he comes hard into the condom.
Hongjoong is already wiggling his hips with oversensitivity when Seonghwa gets back to himself enough to pull out, stumbling off the bed and towards a trash bin to dispose of the condom. He lets himself flop down next to Hongjoong after, and Yeosang mirrors him on Hongjoong’s other side as they all quietly catch their breaths for a long moment.
“Wow…” Hongjoong breathes out.
“You okay?” Seonghwa asks. There’s an already-purpling bruise on Hongjoong’s thigh where Seonghwa held him, clearly digging his fingers in more than intended. “I didn’t… it wasn’t too hard, was it?”
“You were great,” Hongjoong says. “Don’t worry about it.”
“And he can take a lot more before he breaks,” Yeosang adds.
Seonghwa flushes. He should’ve known that, by this point. “Oh.”
“God, we really should’ve brought this up earlier,” Hongjoong says. “You’re so hot.” Yeosang makes a noise of agreement.
Yeosang gets up after some time, disappearing into the ensuite for a moment and returning with a handful of things; Seonghwa gets a damp cloth and a pair of shorts that are definitely not the ones he came here with. He tugs them on after cleaning up a bit anyways.
He watches Yeosang dote on Hongjoong, looking way too loving for someone wiping up come and lube with a damp cloth. It’s still kind of sweet, heart-clenching in a strange way.
Eventually Hongjoong pulls himself out of bed to clean up more thoroughly, and Seonghwa helps Yeosang blow out the candles and replace the blankets with some less-damp ones.
He feels vaguely like he’s overstaying his post-hookup welcome, but he doesn’t even have a chance to suggest that he go back to his own apartment before he’s getting shooed back into bed. Yeosang settles against him, content to make Seonghwa his pillow, and Hongjoong is sprawled out on his other side.
“Anyone up for round two?” Hongjoong says, a bright chirp that sounds far more awake than he has any right to be.
Yeosang snorts and reaches over to flick Hongjoong’s nose, murmuring something under his breath that sounds like insatiable.
“Um, I might need a full night of sleep first,” Seonghwa says honestly, smiling when it pulls a laugh from both Hongjoong and Yeosang.
“Something to work up to, then.” Hongjoong says, at the same time Yeosang asks: “Morning sex?”
Seonghwa laughs, even as the promise of more makes him go pink despite himself, the thought that he might not be just one night that Hongjoong and Yeosang needed to get out of their systems.
“Yeah, okay. To both?” Seonghwa says, a bit more unsure of himself than intended.
Hongjoong hums his approval, sounding sleepier by the moment. “We’re interested in a repeat performance or several, so long as you are…” Seonghwa opens his mouth to answer, but Hongjoong continues, “You don’t have to say anything now. Sleep on it, handsome.”
Hongjoong pats comfortingly at Seonghwa’s chest, and Yeosang seems to be nodding off on his other side. Seonghwa already knows he’ll be interested in anything they’re willing to give.
There’s a dim whirrr that starts up somewhere in the distance, before suddenly every lamp in the room blinks on. It sounds like even the television in the living room has started up.
Hongjoong startles so hard he almost flings himself out of bed, and Seonghwa squints tiredly as the lights assault his eyes. Yeosang groans, low and annoyed.
“Nose goes,” Yeosang proposes, tapping a finger to his nose. Hongjoong follows, and they turn on Seonghwa expectantly.
Seonghwa glances between them for a moment. “Wh—I don’t live here!”
“Rules are rules,” Yeosang says, shrugging like the matter is out of his hands.
Hongjoong nods, but quirks up an eyebrow mischievously. “We’ll make it up to you…” He sing-songs.
That gets Seonghwa nearly stumbling over his feet to go turn off the lights.