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Jeonghan is cute sometimes. Most of the time, really. Not now though. Now, he’s just a goddamn tease.
“Hyung,” he whines, breathless, as his hips rock back onto Seungcheol's lap. It is said low, under his breath, a thing of sheer beauty as he twists his head back to look at Seungcheol.
Seungcheol's palm falls on Jeonghan's thigh, spreading his legs easily as Soonyoung's eyebrows raise at them. He’s aware, of course. It's expected that he should be, considering he’s the one currently filming them underneath the table.
The buzz of desire is faint, but Jeonghan positions himself just right and Seungcheol—
He can feel the movement of Jeonghan's cunt rubbing slow and sensual over where there is hardness beneath him. He’s so wet that when Seungcheol sneaks a hand into his shorts from the unbuttoned top, Jeonghan’s panties feel practically soaked through.
“Please,” he says a little louder, and Seungcheol has half a mind to push him to his knees and shove a cock into his mouth. It’s really the only way to shut him up.
He’s only slightly tipsy, though, so the notion is not strong enough to be followed. Instead, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of Jeonghan's neck, hand cupping Jeonghan through his panties softly.
“Be quiet for your hyungs, okay?”
Jeonghan whimpers, but his mouth purses together in an attempt to keep himself quiet as Seungcheol presses a few fingers against his cunt, shoving the fabric of Jeonghan's panties further into his hole. Across from them, Chan cracks a joke and the rest of them laugh.
Seungcheol flashes them a smile, amused, as his fingernail toys at the edge of where Jeonghan's underwear meets the juncture of his pelvis and thigh. Jeonghan’s hips roll on top of his, a slight bounce in them as he breathes out a shaky sigh.
He pulls Jeonghan's panties to the side, and runs his fingers along the seam of Jeonghan's cunt before pushing further. Wetness eases the slide of his hand on Jeonghan, the tips of his fingers skimming over Jeonghan's folds and his hole.
The filming is still going. Seungcheol can see Soonyoung passing his phone to Hansol under the table. Undeniable trust, because Seungcheol would never dream of sharing his own phone with them even if it was for this purpose.
Jeonghan rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward far enough that his ass is now rolling against Seungcheol's cock, forcing Seungcheol's wrist at an awkward twist as he continues the teasing touches.
When Seungcheol looks back up around the table, he can see the others peeking up from where they talk. They’re not good at hiding what they feel, even less so when it is Jeonghan being a little fucking whore in the middle of a group dinner.
Mingyu leans over to grab a napkin, but he’s sitting so close to Seungcheol that it is easy to see the way his gaze drops to where Jeonghan is grinding against Seungcheol, leaking and wet.
Jeonghan turns to face Mingyu. Seungcheol can see the outline of his lips moving as he tilts his head.
“You can play with me next, hyung.”
Seungcheol's mouth goes dry. Mingyu merely leans back against the seat, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. He looks more amused than aroused, but perhaps that is how he works. Seungcheol has a strong suspicion he likes that about Jeonghan.
“If you insist,” Mingyu murmurs, already picking up his glass and taking a sip of the ever disappearing alcohol inside. Seungcheol cannot even remember what Mingyu ordered.
Jeonghan gasps out a quiet moan when Seungcheol slips two fingers into him, slow and steady as he tests the give of Jeonghan's hole. The angle still isn't very comfortable, but Seungcheol will not complain. Not when he can have this— Jeonghan in his lap, legs spread open as he all but begs to have his cunt fucked.
A hiccuping breath leaves him when Seungcheol scissors the digits into him, his thighs drawing closer and then apart. He’s soaking everything, practically. It drips down Seungcheol's fingers, to his knuckles. Soon enough, his whole wrist will be soaked.
But maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he thinks as he twists his fingers a certain way inside of Jeonghan. Maybe he can convince Jeonghan to lick it all off.
Yes hyung, he’d say. Thank you hyung, he’d whimper. Like a good little slut. Like the kind of maknae he’s been taught to be.
“Cheol hyung,” he gasps out when Seungcheol adds another finger, feeling the tight fit of Jeonghan's pussy as he clamps down like a vice. Jeonghan's head falls back onto Seungcheol's shoulder, his cunt clenching around Seungcheol’s hand like he can't bear to have him inside.
But he’ll take it, because it’s what they’ve trained him to do. Countless nights spent playing with his cunt, days spent drawing orgams out of him until he was unable to get out of bed. Seungcheol will aim to bring that out in him tonight too.
Jeonghan's knees bump against the table as Seungcheol presses his fingers against his front walls, dragging. He’s struggling to stay quiet, now, his whimpers involuntary as Seungcheol’s other hand unbuckles his own belt. His attention is divided, but Jeonghan will live. This comes first.
He wants— He needs. It is not a question of morality anymore. Seungcheol will do this regardless, because it burns in him like a raging fire. He draws his fingers out of Jeonghan, curling them into him for a final time as he leans forward.
“Pull down your shorts for hyung.” He orders. Jeonghan shivers in his grasp.
A pause. Seungcheol lowers his voice. “But don't take them off. You’re going to have to pull them back on afterwards.”
Jeonghan’s answering exhale is louder than anything else he could have said. He nods quickly, his whole face red as he lifts his hips up slightly, arms shaking as he hooks his thumb onto the waistband of his shorts and panties.
Seungcheol cannot help it. He cups Jeonghan's ass with a warm palm, getting a hand around his cock and stroking it as Jeonghan lowers the fabric to just above his knees. Easy access he thinks.
“Good boy,” he tells Jeonghan when he sits back down, the bare skin of his ass brushing against Seungcheol's cock.
God. Good grief.
He can feel Mingyu’s stare boring into them as he once again parts Jeonghan's legs and forces him to arch his back, hovering his cunt just above Seungcheol.
But Seungcheol,
He wants to make Jeonghan work for it. He wants Jeonghan to break his silence even if it means dealing with the consequences of what comes after. He considers it; Jeonghan begging loud enough to settle a quiet over the rest of the table.
It wouldn't be appropriate. That is what Seungcheol most likes about the idea.
Jeonghan tries to grab at Seungcheol's cock, maybe line it up with his hole and then practically fall on it, but Seungcheol swats his hand away. He does not have to look up to know that Jeonghan’s eyebrows have scrunched in frustration.
“Hyung,” he whispers back to Seungcheol, and it sounds so wounded and hurt that Seungcheol’s first instinct is to apologize and give in. But he knows better.
Sure enough, Mingyu snorts beside him, staring at Jeonghan with an incredulous gaze. His mouth twitches. Seungcheol's grip slips a little, and the tip of his cock brushes against the lips of Jeonghan's pussy.
“Jeonghan-ah,” Mingyu says slowly, setting his glass on the table. “You know your acting doesn't work on us.”
Jeonghan’s hips wiggle, and he drops another inch, pressing the head of Seungcheol's cock into his cunt. It is unbearable. “Fuck you,” Jeonghan croaks out to Mingyu, his knuckles white where he grips the table.
Mingyu tuts. “That’s no way to talk to one of your hyungs, is it?”
Seungcheol cannot stand it. He pulls Jeonghan down on his cock, hard, and Jeonghan’s answering gasp is strangled and overly obvious. Joshua shoots them a warning look. The rest of them pretend they didn't hear anything.
That’s fine, he thinks with faint dizziness. Jeonghan is warm and wet and tight around him, his hole bearing down on Seungcheol's cock like his body was made to take it. Seungcheol's very own fuck doll, willingly grinding down as he bites down on his sounds.
Seungcheol knows he’s holding back because all he can hear is the very faint echoes of what Jeonghan does not let out, the heaving breaths he tones down when his hips rise the slightest bit and then fall back down.
They move almost uncontrollably, like Jeonghan cannot help but fuck himself down on Seungcheol's cock with a growing force. Each time he rises, he forces himself farther up Seungcheol's cock. They’re bound to get noticed at some point if they keep doing this, Seungcheol thinks.
“Jeonghan-ah, we’ll get— fuck, we’ll get caught,” he murmurs, and Jeonghan pays him no mind as he rocks forward and then lifts up so that only the head of Seungcheol's cock is holding his hole open. It’s obscene. Seungcheol wants more of it.
He looks around discreetly, and notices different things he really should have seen before.
He sees the shake of Soonyoung’s fingers as he tugs at the collar of his jacket, the betraying red on Seokmin’s cheeks as he downs another drink. He’s fairly certain Wonwoo's hand is somewhere on Minghao's body that it should not be, but maybe Seungcheol is a hypocrite for judging.
Yep, he thinks as his hips jerk up into Jeonghan. Definitely a hypocrite.
“Full,” Jeonghan moans out lowly when Seungcheol’s palms settle on his lower stomach, not even bothering to aid him. He’ll start shaking soon. He always does, when he’s riding someone. They’ve told him he’s grown far too lax in keeping up his stamina but Jeonghan never listens.
Perhaps he will now, Seungcheol hopes. When he realizes that the only way to keep everything going is to have himself do all the work.
Mingyu squirms beside him as his eyes stay glued to the way Jeonghan takes Seungcheol's cock eagerly, mouth open around hints of a name as the globes of his ass slap faintly against the tops of Seungcheol's thighs.
“Come on,” Seungcheol urges, and Jeonghan’s body strains with the effort of keeping himself quiet as one of his palms lands on top of Seungcheol's hands. It’s colder than the rest of his body, and the feeling of it is a juxtaposition that makes Seungcheol's mouth go dry.
Hunger blooms inside him like a flower, his own throat closing up around the moans he does not want anyone to hear as Jeonghan’s cunt clenches down hard on him, his back arched a certain way. Seungcheol enjoys the sight of it deeply.
He wishes he could tell Jeonghan the many things he’s thinking. How good it feels when he forces Seungcheol deep inside of him, how the shift of his thighs feels like heaven when his legs start shaking. Seungcheol could probably wax poetry about the inner mechanisms of Jeonghan fucking himself on Seungcheol like he’s a free use dildo.
Instead, he’s forced to utter quietude as the rest of the others chatter the nervousness away, completely ignoring the fact that Seungcheol has his dick out and about inside of Jeonghan's cunt in the middle of a dinner. In front of people who could potentially cause a scandal for them, if they only paid attention.
And maybe it is the heat of the thought— maybe Jeonghan has discovered some shameful secret about himself in the seconds leading up to it, but Jeonghan’s high whine rips through the air like a sharp dart.
Mingyu drops his fork just as it’s heading to his mouth. Minghao sits up, alert, red cheeked as Wonwoo’s arm pulls out of his pants. And someone a few tables over, maybe more than one out of the ten people sitting there, turn their heads.
Jeonghan stills. His knuckles are white on the table. One of his hands drops to shakily press at his cunt, toying with his clit as he shrinks down on himself.
Seungcheol curses.
His head feels like it's spinning out of control, the coil of pleasure inside of him rebounding out of control as he pants against the back of Jeonghan's neck. “Seriously?” He asks, but it sounds less pissed and more so longing. More than he ever intended it to be. His knees bounce a little, shame stirring in his gut.
Jeonghan’s hand reaches back blindly to pull him forward, his hips rolling on top of Seungcheol. His voice is shaky, when he speaks. Like he’s on the verge of bursting into tears.
“I didn't mean to. I swear I didn't hyung. I—” His tone breaks into something slightly more honest, hurt and true as he spreads his legs wider. Seungcheol shudders.
“I just wanted to be good.”
Fuck. Fuck. Even that, the carefully crafted facade of sweetness Jeonghan manages to create without fail every single time, is enough for Seungcheol to tip over the edge.
“Hyung,” Jeonghan moans out breathily as Seungcheol’s mouth finds a home on his shoulder, his teeth just barely scraping over Jeonghan's skin. It sounds like a plea. Seungcheol would give him the world, if he could.
It rings true even as his cum seeps out of Jeonghan with ease, making things even more of a mess between them than they already were. Seungcheol’s blood runs hot at the thought of looking down and seeing it mix with Jeonghan's skin.
His fingers run down Jeonghan's thighs, feeling the very fine hairs covering the surface of his skin as the sinewed muscle works to keep up with what Jeonghan is demanding of himself. More. He’s never satisfied. Seungcheol will keep giving, regardless.
Jeonghan has always been a weak spot; far beyond his pretty face he is cunning, and smart, and still the dumbest little thing Seungcheol has ever tucked under his wing.
“We’re about to leave.” Seungcheol tells him lowly, and Jeonghan tips back one last time before he’s throwing a palm over his mouth and clenching down on Seungcheol with such force it almost borders on painful.
He’s weak with his second orgasm of the night, his breathing heavy as his release seeps onto Seungcheol's cock and pools where they join. He can feel it gathering on the seat beneath them.
It takes a few minutes for Jeonghan to find his bearings, and by the time he's called for the check, Seungcheol has already convinced himself of one thing.
If Jeonghan walks fast enough, the people surrounding them will never see the evidence Seungcheol left behind trickling down Jeonghan's thigh.