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it’s a rare day off and sehyoon’s in the middle of watching chan wreck their fans in a pubg match when he catches his phone illuminate out of the corner of his eye. he shifts on the futon, his attention still trained mostly on chan’s computer screen, and stretches to pull it off of the side table.
“you gotta watch your six, man,” he says, shaking his head as chan’s avatar explodes courtesy of some enterprising choice’s molotov cocktail. yuchan sneers at the loading screen and flips him off over his shoulder.
then his phone lights up again and he looks at it properly. it’s a message from byeongkwan — well, two messages from byeongkwan.
the first:
hyung can you come to my room
and then, no more than thirty seconds later:
please, i lost something and i need your help
he blinks down at it, willing away the warmth attempting to curl in his stomach. it doesn’t mean anything. he knows that. byeongkwan probably just put something away on a high shelf and can’t be bothered to come out into the kitchen and grab their communal step ladder.
come to think of it, he’s really the only one who uses the thing. they should probably just start keeping it in his bedroom and cut out the middleman entirely.
sehyoon sighs, rubbing his face. of course, he’s gonna go help. donghun and jun are out on a “not date” and yuchan has a nasty habit of holding onto favors until the least convenient moment possible and then summarily fucking over the person that owes him (he’s a sweetheart in that way).
sehyoon is far and away byeongkwan’s best option for no strings attached assistance. that’s why he got the text. it’s not anything deeper. he knows that. he does.
but still. something inside of his chest flutters when he rereads the second message. i need your help
“i’m out, dude,” he says, shoving his phone into his pocket and heaving himself off the futon. the frame squeals unhappily but does not give out, and he nearly slips on their hardwood floor in his socked feet, but chan doesn’t even bother looking away from the screen long enough to notice, so it’s fine. “have fun murdering our fans. try to leave us with one or two alive.”
“will do,” yuchan tosses across the living room, “have fun doing whatever kwan’s too lazy to get off his ass for.”
he pauses with one hand on the doorframe, glancing backward. yuchan’s curled up in his special gamer chair, one foot tucked under the opposite thigh and the blue-tinged screen the only light on in the vicinity. he looks like a gremlin from this angle. it’s a little unnerving.
sehyoon frowns, trying for his most grown-up tone. “have some respect, channie. he’s still your hyung.” the words don’t land quite as well as they would in jun’s disappointed father voice, but he’s happy enough with them. until yuchan makes a wuh-psssh sound, miming the crack of a whip for good measure.
sehyoon blinks, the world going uncomfortably hot, and turns tail. no need to let chan see him blush.
coming, he texts as he thumps down the hallway, well aware that byeongkwan more than likely hears his footsteps.
the door opens before he can even raise his hand to knock.
“fucking finally,” byeongkwan says, all weird and rushed in a single breath. his voice is uneven. it sounds like it always does after they’ve watched an emotional movie together, when he’s trying not to let himself cry. “been waiting forever.”
immediately sehyoon’s Concerned Hyung senses go off. very few things move byeongkwan to tears. “what’s wrong?” he asks, more of a demand than intended.
byeongkwan blinks up at him, full lips pulling downward at the corners. and then sehyoon realizes — he’s flushed, sweaty around his temples and throat. he looks good like this. too good. his skin glistens right before disappearing under the collar of a very familiar too-big sweatshirt.
“wait, is that mine?” sehyoon asks, slightly dumbstruck. “when’d you steal it?”
byeongkwan rolls his eyes and grabs his loose sleeve in an iron grip, wrenching them both into the room proper. it’s a testament to how surprised sehyoon is that he allows himself to be dragged along at all. (or, okay, maybe it’s more because it’s byeongkwan’s hand brushing over his bare wrist).
“what do you need help finding?” sehyoon asks, planting his feet when byeongkwan shuts the door behind them. byeongkwan frowns again, shaking his head. he shifts his weight back and forth, wringing his hands together in front of his tummy.
sehyoon waits for him to speak for a few uncomfortable moments. byeongkwan opens his mouth once, then twice, but closes it each time.
sehyoon furrows his brow and looks around at the high shelves lining the walls. nothing looks out of place. he gives up on figuring it out himself after a minute and tries not to let the building frustration become audible in his voice. “dude, how am i supposed to help you find whatever if you won’t tell me what i’m looking for?”
“it’s, uh,” byeongkwan starts, clamping his jaw shut and cutting himself off with another head shake. if possible, his face gets even redder. sehyoon’s concern grows, his frustration disappearing in a wisp of smoke. it’s got to be bad if byeongkwan’s hesitant to even say it out loud. it could be something that affects the whole group.
maybe he lost a demo song? their schedule for the next three weeks? that one pre-debut group shower selca everyone swore they deleted where three out of five members’ dicks are definitely visible?
a shiver tumbles down sehyoon’s spine at the thought.
“sit with me,” he says, taking gentle hold of byeongkwan’s hands and leading him to sit down. byeongkwan blinks wetly and nods, settling on the edge of the bed. there’s more space between them than he usually allows for, which is to say that he’s not fully in sehyoon’s lap (sehyoon tries not to have Feelings about the distance). “whatever it is, hyung will fix it. what’s going on?”
byeongkwan sighs like he’s finally going to let it out, but then he shudders and his face crumples all at once, and he buries his head in his hands. sehyoon sits straight up, alarmed.
“kwannie,” he says, scooting closer to lay a hand over byeongkwan’s shoulder. and it’s shaking now, oh, shit. “kwannie,” he repeats, a note of desperation bleeding through. it’s bad. it must be really bad. “it’s okay. it’ll be okay. i can help. please just talk to me.”
byeongkwan finally speaks, but it’s quick and muffled by both what sounds horrifyingly like a sob and the palms covering his mouth. sehyoon scoots closer, sliding his hands up to carefully curl around them, pull them away from byeongkwan’s face. his heart’s pounding in his ears, anxiety beating a cacaphony against the inside of his skull.
“jagi,” sehyoon says softly, settling their hands in byeongkwan’s lap. whatever’s wrong, he’s gonna tear it apart for having the audacity to upset byeongkwan so much. “say it one more time for me. hyung couldn’t hear you.”
he won’t look up, instead staring intently down at sehyoon’s hands covering his. his eyelashes flutter when he blinks once, twice, and again when he visibly holds back a hiccoughing breath. his nose is pink at the tip, lips pressed together tightly. his hair’s soft, shiny and still damp from the luxuriously long shower he took a couple of hours ago.
sehyoon’s so in love with him, it hurts. he’s been so in love for so many years. he’d do anything byeongkwan asked him to. chan’s completely right — he’s whipped.
then byeongkwan takes a breath and repeats himself.
“i got a vibrator stuck in my ass and i can’t get it out. i need you to pull it out for me.”
sehyoon blinks, his mind actively attempting to not comprehend the words, like it does whenever junhee makes them all practice english. then byeongkwan looks up at him, beautiful eyes wet and wide and fearful, and sehyoon’s brain kicks back into high gear, processing everything at once.
oh, fuck. oh, fuck.
his gaze flicks down to their joined hands and heat prickles all over his skin, warming his ears and neck in a second. he pulls away, trying not to choke. the air in the room has become too thick to breathe. his lungs aren’t cooperating.
“you…” he starts, barely making a sound at all. he clears his throat and tries again, head whirring at a thousand kilometers per hour. at least his voice has come back. “there’s a vibrator inside of you right now?”
byeongkwan nods, mouth shut again. his hands are clenched in his lap, pressed tightly against the bare tops of his thighs. the hem of his athletic shorts just peeks out from under the oversized sweatshirt he’s got on. sehyoon’s eyes linger on his trembling quads, then he rips his gaze away, terrified that byeongkwan’ll be able to feel the weight of it, will understand what it means.
“how did… how did you get it stuck?” he asks, fidgeting uncomfortably. he realizes his mistake when byeongkwan blows out a harsh breath and slams his fists down on the bed.
“oh my god, hyung, are you asking for a play by play?? i was in the shower and i was feeling frisky —”
“no no nono, no details necessary, that’s not what i meant —” sehyoon stumbles over his words, physically trying to wave away the myriad images appearing in his mind. byeongkwan, wet and naked in the steaming water. byeongkwan, running curious fingers down and between his legs. byeongkwan, mouth dropping open as he presses inside, looking for more, more —
sehyoon shakes himself. “don’t they usually have a flared base or a string or something to keep this from happening?”
real byeongkwan, the clothed one in front of him right now, shrugs helplessly. “i don’t know,” he says, miserable. sehyoon suddenly feels horrid guilt. he’s so vulnerable right now, so uncomfortable. he’s asking for help, not for sehyoon to stomp in here and lust all over him. “it’s my first toy, and i’ve only used it a few times. i guess i got… too into it.”
fuck. be a good person. be a good person. do not picture that.
byeongkwan, on his back on these very sheets, legs spread and head thrown back, riding his vibrator and chasing that new, enticing pleasure —
don’t.
“right,” sehyoon says weakly, rubbing his hot cheek far harder than is necessary to try and clear that thought from his head. he’s horrible. terrible. the worst. this is not the time for his completely unacceptable fantasies. they’re supposed to be locked down tight, only allowed to surface in the dead of night when he’s entirely alone and shrouded by the appropriate levels of shame. “well, shouldn’t we, like, get you to a doctor or something? what if i just make things worse?”
byeongkwan shakes his head, eyes growing wide and desperate. he grabs sehyoon again, holding tight. sehyoon feels where their skin is touching, hot as a brand. he has to physically stop himself from flinching away. “please, no,” he says, digging his fingernails into the soft flesh on the inside of sehyoon’s wrist. his words are hushed. “what if someone sees us going in? what if the doctor says something to someone?”
sehyoon doesn’t have a good answer for that. their chances of being able to slip out without their manager’s notice and get to a discrete clinic completely under cover are pretty low. his silence is telling.
byeongkwan lets out an unhappy whine, squeezing his eyes closed, and slumps forward over his own lap. “please, i don’t wanna tell anyone else. it’s not that deep inside. i could still feel it with my fingers, it’s just too slippery for me to get at that angle.” when he speaks again, his voice is strained. it’s thick with tears. “please, hyung. it hurts.”
sehyoon swallows, his throat clicking. the guilt bubbles hotly in his stomach. he’s the one making this weird. byeongkwan needs help, badly. he’s trusting sehyoon more than anyone else in the world and sehyoon’s hesitating because, why? because he’s in Big Gay Love with byeongkwan? so are half the idols they meet on any given day. god, get over it. be an adult.
“i’ll do it,” he finally says, and the immediate shock and relief on byeongkwan’s face makes a fresh wave of shame wash over him, form a hard lump in his stomach. he sighs, hating himself. “how do we… how do we do this?”
byeongkwan freezes for a second, like he hadn’t actually considered the possibility of sehyoon saying yes. then he brings a hand up to cover his mouth, drown out a sound that sehyoon’s brain flat out refuses to process. it’s not a moan. jesus. fuck. fuck.
sehyoon blinks and politely does not address it.
the moment lingers, so uncomfortable that they both independently consider the merits of jumping out the second story window. thankfully, neither makes a move.
“um. right. i guess i should just,” byeongkwan eventually mumbles, face redder than sehyoon’s ever seen, and stands from the bed before turning around to face it. “the easiest angle’s probably —”
he bends over, laying on his stomach across the sheets in a pose sehyoon’s pictured too many times to be entirely healthy. without warning, he yanks down his shorts, pulling up his sweatshirt to mid back simultaneously.
sehyoon’s mind neatly implodes. he’s left braindead. staring, open-mouthed, at kim byeongkwan’s gorgeous, round ass and tiny waist.
then byeongkwan clears his throat, and his ass jiggles in the most enticing way, and sehyoon snaps back to the present moment.
he turns wide eyes up to byeongkwan’s face, his own burning, and blanches. byeongkwan looks like he’s about to cry again.
“i’m so sorry, hyung,” he says, turning away hurriedly to hang his head between his shoulders. his hands are clenched on the sheets, pressed together so that it almost looks like he’s praying (fuckin’ same, sehyoon thinks.) “it’s too weird, i knew it was a terrible thing to ask, i’ll figure it out myself, please forget this ever —”
“hey, no,” sehyoon says, making the stupidest decision of his life in one significant moment. he stands off of the bed and steps around, carefully resting one hand on byeongkwan’s right hip, his thumb mere millimeters from the dimple in his lower back. he has to ignore how perfect byeongkwan feels under his touch and force himself to continue.
“this is not weird at all,” lie “you’re in a difficult position,” truth “and i care about you,” more truth than byeongkwan knows “of course i’m going to help.” that… actually remains to be seen
byeongkwan sniffles, nodding slightly without turning around. sehyoon waits for a few seconds, then understands that that’s the best response he’s gonna get, and it’ll just have to do.
he breathes in deeply and looks down once more. byeongkwan’s ass is a thing of beauty. lovelier than he could have ever imagined, and he’s been imagining it for several years at this point. there’s a sourness in his mouth, though. this isn’t right. byeongkwan doesn’t want him here, hasn’t chosen to have this between them.
sehyoon swallows back the bitter taste and puts his game face on. “okay,” he says, and tries not to flinch when byeongkwan flinches. “i’m just gonna…”
“do it,” byeongkwan says, more desperate than demanding, like sehyoon guesses he intended to sound. he always covers discomfort with bossiness. it’s just in his nature. “please,” he adds on after, and sehyoon nods, though he couldn’t possibly see it. that’s, at the very least, normal for him too. he’d sooner die than get caught forgetting his manners.
sehyoon slides his left hand over unbearably soft skin, parting his cheeks carefully. his stomach drops when he sees. byeongkwan’s hole is wet, already pink and puffy from earlier stimulation. fuck.
sehyoon holds his breath, pressing a finger inside to get an idea of how much psychological torture he’s about to endure figure out how difficult it’s going to be to find and pull the fucking thing out. and byeongkwan was right, it’s not very far in at all; he’s only a couple of knuckles deep when he brushes against it.
byeongkwan shudders under his hands, letting out a loud, shocked moan, and sehyoon yanks his hands back as if burned. hot arousal is swirling in his stomach, mixed with acrid guilt and self-disgust.
“it’s — it’s still on?” he asks, nearly choking on the words.
“yeah,” byeongkwan says after a delay. it’s unnecessary; now that sehyoon’s knows to listen for it, he can hear a faint buzzing emanating from byeongkwan’s ass. he presses his face flat against the sheets, muffling his voice. “‘m sorry.”
“right,” sehyoon says. “okay.” of course. of course, it’s still on. he wonders which one of the gods he grievously offended in a past life to be punished in this way. maybe it was several, actually. this feels on par with sisyphus rolling the boulder up the hill for all eternity. “no need to apologise. are you okay?”
“fine,” byeongkwan mutters, tangling his own hands in his thick, dark hair, and tugging lightly. “‘m fine, just please get it out, please.” his voice is strained, throaty and deep like he’s getting fucking wrecked.
sehyoon looks down and remembers that he is.
“uh huh,” he says, mentally making a note to start back up with his daily prayers. his halmeoni would be so disappointed to know he’d ever stopped. this is your fault, she’d say for sure. now that poor sweet boy with the fantastic ass is suffering because of your laziness.
all right, sehyoon might be paraphrasing. but she’d definitely scold him if she were here right now.
“and you’ll tell me if i hurt you —” he starts, and byeongkwan whips around to glare over his shoulder, his pretty eyes narrowed.
“with all of the love and respect in the world, hyung,” he says, not lovingly or respectfully at all, “please hurry the fuck up. i’m losing my goddamn mind over here. either get inside of me or leave.”
sehyoon blinks, reeling.
but then, he’s always been one to follow a direct order.
this time, when he presses inside, byeongkwan yanks a pillow from the head of the bed to shove his face into. there’s a moan ripped from his chest, high and keening. it gets louder when sehyoon grips the hollow of his hip tightly, trying his best to hook a finger around the base of the vibrator.
he only succeeds in shifting the tip of it, and byeongkwan jerks forward, hips flexing under sehyoon’s hand and ass clenching around his finger. he cries out, loud enough that sehyoon tenses and glances at the door, certain that yuchan is about to burst in to see what all the fun’s about. fuck. they should have locked it when they had the chance. it’s too late now.
“shit, sorry,” he says, panicking slightly. byeongkwan’s shuddering under his hand, flushing pink over the back of his neck. he grips the pillow more tightly, whimpering into it. “i’m gonna try two —”
byeongkwan squeals and shudders when he slides a second finger inside along the first. sehyoon ignores his sounds and wriggling with the self-control of a goddamn saint. sorry, grandma, he thinks faintly, trying to hook his fingers around the base. it’s too slippery, courtesy of the, frankly, indecent amount of lubricant byeongkwan used.
and there’s another thing he’s not supposed to know about his best friend/secret crush: how wet he likes it. apparently, the answer is just as wet as sehyoon himself does.
fuck, this is not the time to have a crisis. that’s for later, after this nightmare is over and he’s safely and securely tucked into a shame cocoon in his own bed.
he struggles for several minutes, once or twice succeeding in wriggling the vibrator closer to byeongkwan’s entrance. each time he does, though, byeongkwan shudders and clenches around him, seeming to pull it back in with the unintentional rocking of his hips. sehyoon intuits that he’s likely pressing it against byeongkwan’s prostate.
“stop moving,” he says through clenched teeth, then, more authoritatively than he means to. it works, though, byeongkwan whimpering and stilling in place. his right calf is pressed between sehyoon’s knees. maybe it’s not even something he realizes, but sehyoon is painfully aware of every single point of contact between them. they’re all hot, like he’s about to catch fire in multiple places.
“good boy,” he mumbles, more a comment to himself than for byeongkwan to actually hear.
then several things happen at once.
sehyoon manages to hook both fingers around the base of the (still vibrating!!) toy.
he pins byeongkwan to the bed, pressing significantly more weight down than before in a bid to keep him from wriggling away.
and
byeongkwan wails, the sound nearly ripped from his throat.
“get it out, get it out, get it OUT! hyung, i’m gonna —” the sound cuts off sharply, replaced with a loud, broken moan. his hips flex under sehyoon’s hand, trying ineffectively to get away from the direct pressure against his prostate, and he grips sehyoon’s left hand where it sits on his hip, wrapping slim fingers around his wrist tight enough to bruise.
byeongkwan’s ass clenches around him, every muscle in his body tensing for one glorious, horrible moment. when he relaxes, his back arches in a curve so pretty it should be illegal and he writhes, gasping for breath like he’s just surfaced from a pool of water. he lets out another long, low moan when sehyoon pulls the vibrator the rest of the way out, clicking the button to turn it off, and his crushing grip on sehyoon’s arm disappears, replaced with a loose, affectionate stroke.
“did you just —?” sehyoon manages through the cloud of hot desire and shame threatening to choke him out. he drops the vibrator on the bed, forgetting about it as soon as it’s lost among the sheets.
byeongkwan whimpers and pulls the pillow tighter to his face. it’s like he’s trying to smother himself, or disappear entirely.
“jesus christ, that was so hot.”
sehyoon claps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words slip out, then he realizes with horror that that’s the hand he just had inside of byeongkwan, and he rips it away again.
“i didn’t mean — that’s not what i —”
byeongkwan turns around, eyes wide, cheeks wet, and mouth stained red. he looks shocked, like how sehyoon imagines he himself looked when byeongkwan first told him about the vibrator. somehow, though, he pulls it off way better. maybe it’s the post-orgasm glow.
and, wow, that’s not something sehyoon’s supposed to have an opinion about: how fucking incredible byeongkwan looks just after he’s come.
sehyoon’s stomach drops. he’s a terrible person. the worst person. he took advantage of the fact that byeongkwan asked him for help, derived pleasure from his vulnerability, got turned on by —
“you’re hard?” byeongkwan asks, voice rough from all the screaming. it’s completely unnecessary; he’s staring at the bulge in sehyoon’s pants, brows raised and mouth hanging open.
sehyoon squeezes his eyes shut, taking a half-step back and raising his hands. he needs to get out of here right the fuck now, needs to find a set of train tracks to lie down on, or a short bridge to take a long walk off of. “i didn’t mean to —”
the words die in his throat, a disjointed apology forcing itself out instead. it’s horrible, the embarrassment and shame, the disgust at what he’s done. byeongkwan’s not ever gonna be able to look at him again, and how could sehyoon ever ask him to? they’re gonna have to disband, sehyoon’s gonna have to leave seoul all together —
“wait,” byeongkwan says, the pleading note in his voice enough to lock sehyoon’s knees in place. he catches one of sehyoon’s hands in both of his, holding it softly. “please don’t go.”
sehyoon takes in a sharp breath. it feels like broken glass in his throat. feels like blood’s gonna drip down the back of it. “what,” he grits out, refusing to open his eyes against the hot sting of tears building.
byeongkwan doesn’t answer for long enough that sehyoon cracks one eye open, huffing out a loud burst of air. he jumps, then, seeming to come back to reality.
he looks up at sehyoon, face pink and expression mixed. there’s embarrassment in there, of course. anxiety, as well. his ever-present determination. but there’s something else too. something that, to sehyoon, looks strikingly like hope.
sehyoon’s heart thuds in his chest.
“you helped me,” byeongkwan says, slowly and with much care. “thank you for doing that. would you like me to help you now?”
sehyoon blinks. then he blinks again. there’s no way. he’s misunderstanding. he must be misunderstanding.
“you mean —?”
byeongkwan nods, pulling his full lower lip into his mouth with a wet pop, and his hooded gaze drops to sehyoon’s very interested erection once more.
holy shit.
“you don’t have to —” sehyoon starts, against both his own will and all of the emergency sirens going off in his head.
byeongkwan crinkles his nose, the gesture far too cute for someone trying to suck a dick, and pulls sehyoon close enough to spin them around, push him onto the bed instead.
sehyoon’s scrambling to keep up, crawling backward to sit against the pillows, mind spinning. byeongkwan climbs up after him, hitching a leg across both of his to straddle them.
“i know i don’t have to, hyung,” he says, weirdly and endearingly shy about it. his hand’s hovering over sehyoon’s straining cock, separated by centimeters of air and two layers of fabric. despite that, sehyoon could swear he feels the heat of it already. “i want to.”
sehyoon looks up at him, shell shocked. he looks completely sincere, sweetly flushed and nervous around the edges. “you really do, huh?” sehyoon asks wonderingly.
byeongkwan nods, going pinker. a familiar determined expression crosses his face, then, and he leans down to breathe over sehyoon’s crotch.
the air catches in sehyoon’s throat and his hips jerk upward unintentionally, drawing a joint amused and embarrassed smile out after. he chuckles, shifting to help byeongkwan undo his jeans and wriggle them down his thighs.
“well, goddamn,” byeongkwan says when sehyoon’s cock is free and bobbing in the open air, but it doesn’t sound like an admonishment. his eyes are wide, lips are pink and plush.
“you’re so gorgeous —” sehyoon says, before byeongkwan leans down and swallows him whole.
oh, fuck.
the soft wet heat is far too much stimulation after nothing at all, and sehyoon has to force his gaze to the ceiling, press the back of his fist against his mouth to keep from coming down his throat immediately.
byeongkwan gets right into it, twisting his tongue around the tip and wrapping slender fingers around the base each time he pulls back. he’s far too talented for this to be his first or even fifth cock sucked, but sehyoon can’t bring himself to wonder when he would’ve found the time to practice.
he’s amazing. incredible. and sehyoon’s in his mid-twenties. he’s attractive enough. he’s had both men and women go down on him his fair share of times. but this — byeongkwan’s throat game is something else entirely. feels like sehyoon’s about to get his soul sucked out through his dick.
“jesus,” he murmurs, threading careful fingers through byeongkwan's thick, silky hair. it’s so healthy right now, unbleached since before their last comeback, and his heart throbs painfully in his chest.
he loves every version of byeongkwan. the confident, stage-stealing center of their choreography. the smooth, perfectly fluid counterpart to sehyoon’s rapping. the prickly, far too concerned with his image version he sometimes becomes during a period of extended stress.
but most of all, sehyoon realizes with a pang, he loves this byeongkwan.
not because his dick’s in his mouth.
(well, also, maybe — no. not because of that.)
this version of byeongkwan — the one who’s so unabashedly unafraid to be himself, to dive headfirst into stupid shit and then rope sehyoon into getting him out. this version, who does what he wants, when he wants, and apparently what he wants is sehyoon.
he wants sehyoon, too.
the hot emotions in sehyoon’s chest all tangle together, reaching a fever pitch with the blind arousal surging through his veins, and he gasps out a choked breath, jumbled words falling from his mouth in some kind of disorganized mess.
“fuck, baby, i’m about to —” sehyoon manages in another second, tugging at his hair gently to pull him off. byeongkwan brushes his hands away and moans, looking up at him through his lashes. it’s that sight, his perfect lips stretched wide around sehyoon’s cock, his nose pressed against the softness at the bottom of his stomach, that pushes sehyoon over the edge.
the orgasm rocks through him, waves of pleasure crashing against all of his hopes and worries and dreams and fears, washing them away like sand off a beach. afterwords, his mind is filled with nothing but seafoam calmness, fine and precious and rare.
byeongkwan stays on him through it, eagerly slurping his come up with a sound so obscene that it rips a whimper straight from sehyoon’s chest.
it takes a long few moments for the seafoam feeling to recede. sehyoon eventually blinks himself back to earth, head spinning still. when he arrives, byeongkwan is staring down at him expectantly.
uh. okay. maybe he forgot something important. it’s been a while since he’s had sex. much longer since he’s been with someone he has so many feelings for. what’s the proper etiquette here?
“thank you,” sehyoon says formally and awkwardly. the post-nut bliss starts to fade, and the room slides back into focus around them. “you are very talented. you did a great job.”
byeongkwan blinks. “is that all?”
“um,” sehyoon says, wracking his mind. fuck. he’s still fuzzy. stupid orgasm brain. “no?”
byeongkwan rolls his eyes, heaving a melodramatic sigh complete with shoulders drooping. he curls his fingers into the fabric of sehyoon’s shirt, balling his hands cutely on sehyoon’s stomach. “you don’t even know, do you?”
sehyoon stares hard at him. it’s no use. he’s coming up blank.
byeongkwan blinks, his nostrils flaring when he breathes in. all of a sudden his confidence falters, replaced with the thin veneer he sometimes puts up right before they go on camera. it’s so strikingly familiar, sehyoon’s heart throbs in his chest again. then byeongkwan speaks. “you said you were in love with me.”
a pause.
“excuse me?”
byeongkwan nods without breaking eye contact, slow and deep enough that his chin nearly bumps his chest. “yeah. while your dick was fully in my mouth. you said that you’re in love with me.”
“oh, shit,” sehyoon says, furrowing his brow. it’s hazy, but now that he thinks about it, he definitely recalls something to that effect coming out in the midst of his pre-orgasm high. “i guess i did.”
another pause.
byeongkwan rolls his eyes again, clearly accepting that sehyoon isn’t going to try denying it or something else equally idiotic. “okay. glad that’s settled, i guess. well, full disclosure, i’m in love with you too.”
“oh,” sehyoon says, somehow more shocked by that than anything else that’s happened today. “really?”
“uh, yeah, hyung,” byeongkwan says, slumping forward so that he can force his way under sehyoon’s chin and into his arms for a proper snuggle. sehyoon tries not to let the goofy grin overtake his face when a bony elbow jabs him right in the ribs. this part’s familiar. “why else do you think i was masturbating in your sweatshirt?”
“WHAT?” he very calmly asks, sitting straight up. byeongkwan squalls indignantly, latching onto his torso like a koala to avoid getting tossed off the bed. “you were — ???? in MY — ?????”
“umm.... maybe?” byeongkwan says after a second, hiding his face in sehyoon’s neck. sehyoon tries to pull him away, but he shakes his head and grips harder. his next words are muffled. “is that like… bad? should i not have done that? did i — did i mess up everything?”
“no,” sehyoon blurts out, curling a hand over the back of his neck affectionately. he considers editing the next part, but. fuck it. he’s been brazenly honest so far and it’s been working out fine. might as well keep it up. “that’s the hottest thing i’ve ever heard in my life. i can’t believe you’re real.”
byeongkwan pulls back the tiniest bit. just enough that sehyoon can see his pretty, wide eyes underneath fluffy bangs. “you mean that?”
sehyoon laughs, giddy. “of course. you’re the sexiest person i’ve ever met, and we just established that i’ve been in love with you for an indeterminate amount of time. possibly forever. probably forever.”
byeongkwan breaks into a smile, the first genuine one sehyoon’s seen since before this whole cursed day began, and snuggles back up. when they’ve gotten settled on the bed again, he shyly says: “good. then my answer’s yes.”
sehyoon tilts his head. maybe he’s trying to subtly ask him out. wouldn’t be the first time sehyoon’s misunderstood cutie pie byeongkwan. “hmm?”
“you also proposed,” byeongkwan says, hugging him tighter round the ribs. “(while your dick was in my mouth).”
“jesus fucking christ,” sehyoon wheezes.
“yeah,” byeongkwan says conversationally. “i’m pretty sure that this was the most mutually embarrassing experience two people could go through together and you still want to marry me, so obviously my answer is yes and obviously i will never love another person the way i love you, but i do think that maybe we should kiss at least once before we head down to the courthouse.”
sehyoon sighs. “yeah, you’re definitely right. better make sure you’re not terrible at making out before i commit to you for the rest of our natural-born lives.”
byeongkwan’s offended shout and their resulting laughter is loud enough to carry through the entire dorm and even probably upstairs to the neighbors, but sehyoon can’t bring himself to care.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
…. at least, not until the next day.
junhee, donghun, and yuchan are all sitting around the dining table when he and byeongkwan step into the room, hand in (sweaty) hand. they look weirdly formal, and sehyoon’s hackles immediately rise. the last time they sat like this, it was an intervention regarding the sheer number of oversized sweatshirts sehyoon owned.
and who won that one, fuckers? sehyoon thinks to himself, ducking his head and sitting meekly where junhee indicates. he squeezes byeongkwan’s hand, feeling gratified when he squeezes back.
junhee starts after an appropriately, long, awkward moment. he looks like he regrets every decision that has led him to this point in life. good. his tone is diplomatic. "i think we need to first begin by saying how happy we all are for you both.”
“you finally got your heads out of your asses, yay!” donghun says, deadpan. he even wiggles his fingers in mock celebration.
junhee ignores him, “but you need to be considerate while exploring this new dynamic to your relationship. donghun and i leave the dorm for couples time out of respect for the whole group, and you two should consider doing the same."
yuchan wordlessly pushes a stack of pamplets across the table towards them. byeongkwan picks one up, blowing out a breath.
“apartments?”
junhee and chan both nod. this time chan does speak. “at least a few floorplans in each of these fit into your budget, and they come with a variety of amenities based on both of your personal preferences. they’re organized by distance from both the company and our dorm.”
sehyoon frowns, suspicious. the nodding in time. the oddly coordinated nature of each of their speaking parts. donghun’s clear dissociation.
“did you all rehearse this?”