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Hyunjin’s buzzing by the time the plane lands. It started somewhere around his toes when the pilot announced their arrival ETA, and steadily crawled its way up his body, through his scalp, down the tip of his nose, all the way to his fingernails, throughout the length of their descent.
It’s late at night, so there’s only a few cameras lingering around the entrance—for which Hyunjin is grateful. He’s had his fill of cameras from the weekend.
Still, he nods and waves, because that’s what is expected of him.
In the van, notifications are still popping up on his phone after having been silenced for the twelve hour flight from Paris—Instagram in particular is having its moment. Posts from the official Stray Kids account announcing his attendance at the Versace show, and his own blurry selfie from outside the aftershow party. He’d been a little tipsy when he’d taken it but no one would know the truth. They'd suspect, surely, because Hyunjin’s cheeks are flushed pink, mouth a little swollen, and the camera angle is jarringly tilted, but Hyunjin was used to the suspicion.
There are messages from their choreographer, a meeting with their PR team tomorrow to follow up about more brand collaborations they want to present him, along with a review of this weekend’s appearance. About two hundred texts in their group chat that Hyunjin doesn’t bother opening. His mouth twists when he doesn’t see the notification he wants to.
The phone goes back on his lap and Hyunjin looks out the window. The long highway from Incheon is giving way to city life, building lights sparkling in the distance, the river dark and shimmering as they pull up alongside it. His lips are still tingling and when he presses his numb fingertips to them, they don’t stop. It’s a strange sensation, stranger still when he shoves his hands under his thighs and feels his whole body vibrate with the force of it.
A fierce longing.
The sight of the dorms has never been more welcome than tonight and Hyunjin thanks his manager profusely and waves him off before he grabs his suitcase and starts making his way up to the building. Their elevator is creaky, the mirror on the sides smudged and grey, and the hallway light is dim when the doors open up on his floor.
The longing deepens, thrums lower into his bones like a miner’s song.
They’ve lived in these dorms for two years and when Hyunjin opens the door, the sight that greets him is as familiar and comforting as the entryway of his family home.
There’s the pile of shoes in the entryway, illuminated by the automatic light clicking on; Chan’s black and gold eyesores sitting haphazardly atop Jisung’s converse—he’d finally gone out and bought a new pair after wearing the last ones down to fraying laces and worn down soles. All their slippers kicked off near each other, only distinguished by their colour.
The kitchen is empty, barely touched, but Hyunjin knows, if he opens the refrigerator, it’ll be stuffed to the brim with leftover takeout and Changbin’s on-the-go protein shakes. Their little gym gleams in the corner of the living room, at first untouched by Hyunjin on habit alone and then later, on pure principle.
Jisung’s door is shut, no light coming out from the crack at the bottom—the other two are similar. He’s alone then.
Hyunjin’s mouth twists again and he pushes open his bedroom door, weaving around the pile of canvases leaning against the wall by his door, and starts getting ready for bed. His suitcase gets pushed against the wardrobe for later, and he retrieves his towel and nightclothes before ducking into the shower.
When he gets out, an indulgent, steamy forty-five minutes later, hair dripping across bare shoulders, he stops short at the entrance of his own room where his door is open and he can see out into the rest of the apartment. Changbin’s door is wide open, and the light is on.
It’s as good as an invitation.
Hyunjin’s fingers start tingling harder. He’s still buzzing all over—hasn’t stopped since the airport.
He takes his time though, blow dries his hair until it’s almost dry, and runs slowly through his skincare routine, brushes his teeth and pats on lip balm and gives himself a considering once over in the mirror. He’s spent the whole weekend with people watching him, recording him, taking pictures of him, ogling him, envying him, wanting him. Hyunjin’s not stupid enough to not know it. To pretend like he doesn’t notice.
Sometimes it feels good, that kind of attention, being on the other end of desire. Sometimes, it’s heavy, like thick, vintage jewellery, weighing him down around the neck, turning his shoes into lead bricks. Sometimes, like tonight, he doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to be looked at, doesn’t want any of the focus on him.
Changbin is sitting on his bed, laptop perched on his thighs, hair curling at the nape and cheeks flushed pink from his own shower. He looks up with an expectant smile when Hyunjin hovers in his doorway.
“You’re back.” He shuts his laptop and leans over to set it down on his desk. “How was the trip?”
“Hot.” Hyunjin shuts the door and sits at the end of Changbin’s bed, drawing a knee up to his chest. He nibbles on his cuticles contemplatively. “Fun, though.”
“Yeah, I saw your pictures,” Changbin says, amused. “You looked like you were having fun.”
They’d gone out after all the runway shows concluded, Hyunjin tagging along with a few celebrities he’d only met a handful of times, feeling unsure and a little awkward as they chattered in rapid fire English that he was just barely managing to translate. But they were all kind to Hyunjin, and took shots with him in the underbelly of Paris’ most exclusive clubs and only laughed a little when Hyunjin, dizzy from the alcohol and the flush of a stranger’s mouth on his, tripped over nothing on his way into the VIP area.
Changbin pats the bed at his side and Hyunjin scoots over to him, leg thrown over one of Changbin’s to fit. “Get any numbers this time? Propositions?”
Hyunjin blushes, putting a hand up to his warm face because he had and Changbin laughs a little. “I’m only asking because I’m the one who’s going to have to start writing songs if you’ve got another world star asking for a collab.”
“Don’t tease,” Hyunjin mumbles, putting his head on Changbin’s shoulder. He smells like toothpaste and his toner, and the clean, light perfume that he’d carried on using even after the whole Jisung Thievery Drama. Hyunjin wants to drown in that scent. Changbin puts a heavy palm on his thigh, squeezing gently.
“Hyung.”
“Hmm?”
Hyunjin picks his head up, and peers at Changbin. They’re so close he can see every detail of his face, the little silvery scar under his chin, the stubble forming a shadow, his lips waxy from lip balm. Hyunjin knows if he puts his mouth to them, he’ll taste cherries.
“I want you,” he says quietly, simply, because he’s trying to be more forthright about things like this, like how Changbin so effortlessly manages to be. “Let me?”
Changbin looks at him, unreadable for a second, before he nods. And Hyunjin leans forward to fit his mouth against Changbin’s, soft and tentative. His mouth feels like it’s been filled with angry bees, the humming intensifying at the sensation of touch. He was right; it’s cherries.
Changbin scoots down when Hyunjin presses, letting Hyunjin push him back on the bed, hands coming up to hold Hyunjin’s waist when Hyunjin clambers atop him.
“I want to fuck you,” he mumbles into Changbin’s mouth. The buzzing has taken over his whole body, insistent, thrumming, almost like cicadas, too loud under the blanket of summertime.
Changbin shivers a little bit and pride suffuses through Hyunjin. He’s still got it—that effect that seems to hold people in thrall around him. But tonight isn’t about him. Not anymore. He doesn’t want it to be.
“Whatever you want, Hyunjinnie.” The words are rough, breathy from the lack of air, but sweet, almost tinged saccharine with how much natural aegyo Changbin has when he speaks.
“Mmm, I want,” Hyunjin agrees, sitting up, hips over Changbin’s thighs so he can pluck at his sleep shirt, a silent request to take it off. When the breadth of Changbin’s torso, that strong weightlifter stomach, soft pecs, broad, thick shoulders come into view, Hyunjin’s mouth waters. He understands why Seungmin always tries to bite Changbin.
“I want to kiss you,” he continues, scooting downward to tug Changbin’s shorts off. He leaves the briefs on for now, bending down to press a kiss where the soft flesh of Changbin’s thigh bulges around the hem of the shorts. “Open you up.” His hand smooths up Changbin’s body, palm tingling as it goes, fingers skipping over his skin, thumb smoothing over his nipple. His eyes flick up to Changbin who is just watching him, heavy lidded, hands clenching and opening at his side. “Tell you how perfect you are.” Another kiss, higher up on Changbin’s thigh now, near his stiffening cock. The muscle under his mouth twitches and Hyunjin presses his smile into the fabric. “Make you come for me. Maybe twice.”
“Twice?” Changbin’s voice is gravelly. “Feeling like a go getter tonight?”
“Feeling like I want to take you apart,” Hyunjin replies. His eyes flick up to Changbin’s even as he ghosts warm breath, mouth parted, over the length of Changbin’s cock. He smiles at the way Changbin shudders and then dismisses it. Tonight isn’t about Hyunjin revelling in the reactions. “Tonight’s about you, hyung.”
“Shouldn’t it be about you?” Changbin swallows. “You just got back…” The words slip away into a surprised, expectant silence when Hyunjin teases the top of his underwear down, over his cock, slowly drawing it out. His mouth waters.
“It’s always about me,” he replies, because it is. Changbin’s the most selfless lover he’s ever had—and Hyunjin never knows if it’s because it’s just how Changbin is or if it’s because it’s how he is with Hyunjin. He strokes a dry palm over Changbin’s length and then spits over the head, gathering up the saliva in his hand and spreading it down. Adds, almost contemplatively, “I want to focus on you.”
“Well.” Changbin’s eyes are dark. “Don’t let me stop you then.”
A victorious smile curves over Hyunjin’s mouth before it’s swallowed up by Changbin’s cock. He goes down halfway, then pulls off, licks the head, laves his tongue over the vein throbbing at the side. Hyunjin will never admit it out loud, but he doesn’t think he needs to. They all know how much he loves this part—sucking someone off, being at their mercy. Minho in particular loves to take advantage of it, sometimes making Hyunjin almost blackout from lack of air.
But this isn’t about Hyunjin. Tonight isn’t about Changbin taking charge. He does it always, so easily, and Hyunjin loves it, loves him for the effort Changbin has put in to learn his body—in a way that makes it seem like it was no effort at all. But Hyunjin’s spent the whole weekend with a million different eyes on him, and he’s got all of their gazes buzzing, like a million angry bees under the second layer of his skin. It’s an unimaginable level of power, coursing through his veins, chewing through his skull. It needs an outlet.
“Hyunjin-ah,” sighs Changbin. Hyunjin pulls off with a sloppy noise, too loud in the quiet room, the only other sound coming from the quiet burbling of Changbin’s humidifier. Changbin’s head is tipped back on his pillow, cheeks pink. When he meets Hyunjin’s eyes, he swears under his breath, hand coming up to thumb at Hyunjin’s lower lip, no doubt shiny from saliva and precome. “Fuck, look at you. You’re so pretty.”
“No.” Hyunjin shakes his head. “Not me, not tonight.” Changbin cocks his head in confusion. “You’re pretty,” Hyunjin says. His hand strokes Changbin’s cock. He kisses Changbin’s hip bone. He feels frayed, like an electrical wire slipping towards water. Reminds Changbin, “It’s not about me tonight.”
“It’s going to be kind of hard to turn that off,” Changbin says with a cheeky smile.
“Hmm,” Hyunjin allows, with a tip of his head. “Guess I’ll just have to work harder to distract you, then.” He sticks his tongue and licks kittenish and put on at the precome beading at the head. Licks lower, kisses Changbin’s cock, almost like he’s trying to make out with it. When he chances another glance up, Changbin’s chest is hitching, eyes locked onto him.
Hyunjin smiles, sucks him down again until his throat starts protesting. Doubles down on his efforts. Savours the soft noises Changbin lets slip out, even though there’s no one around to disturb; gasps, when Hyunjin hollows his cheeks, moans when his hands follow his mouth, stroking what he can’t swallow, a cut off groan when Hyunjin forces himself all the way down.
He grabs Changbin’s hand where it’s still clenched in the sheets and leads it to his hair. The sensation of his hands resting on Hyunjin’s head, not pushing, but the weight heavy enough, has Hyunjin’s eyes fluttering shut.
It takes everything in him not to go hazy, not to let himself fall into it, into that soupy, meditative state that always comes when he’s like this. The only thing he’s missing is the hard floor under his knees, bruising them. But tonight isn’t about Hyunjin.
“Want you to come, hyung,” Hyunjin rasps. He twists his hand, mouths at his balls, the way he knows Changbin likes. “Come in my mouth and then let me fuck you.”
Changbin swears again, hands tightening on Hyunjin’s hair, and Hyunjin redoubles his efforts, jaw aching and sore from how much he’s stretching, straining, to swallow around the whole of Changbin. He knows the signs almost as well as he knows his own body, Changbin’s thighs tensing, his hands pushing a little more, losing their patience, the way his stomach tenses, chest straining off the bed.
Changbin gasps out a bit off Hyunjin and that’s the only warning Hyunjin gets before Changbin comes in his mouth, bitter and warm and salty and Hyunjin gags, eyes rolling back in his head in thrumming pleasure as swallows. It’s a point of pride that not a drop spills and Hyunjin’s neck aches with the strain as he sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Changbin is panting, spread out across the bed, thighs splayed from where Hyunjin had between them. Hyunjin smiles. His cock is hard between his legs. The satisfaction curls in his gut like a purring cat.
“Ready to go again?”
“Fucking hell,” Changbin breathes, opening his eyes to pin Hyunjin where he sits. “Give me a minute.”
Hyunjin laughs and leans over to Changbin’s desk drawer to find the lube he knows Changbin has stashed there. When he straightens again, hovering over Changbin with a hand braced by his head, Changbin fits a hand around the nape of his neck, with that firm, unyielding pressure Hyunjin loves and yanks him down to kiss him. Hyunjin shudders from tip to toe, lips parting as Changbin licks into his mouth, his other hand shucking Hyunjin’s shirt up, a hot callused palm scraping along his ribs.
“What’s got you so wound up, hmm?” Changbin hums into the kiss. “You’re so eager tonight.”
“I want to fuck you,” Hyunjin says. His shirt gets pulled off and his hair falls into his eyes, ruffled. He shakes it away impatiently. Looks down into Changbin’s annoyingly beautiful eyes. “I want to do something for you.”
Like you always do for me, he wants to say but doesn’t think it’ll go over well. Changbin hates any sense of obligation, and this isn’t that, anyway. Hyunjin just wants to splay him out, kiss Changbin all over and fuck him until he ribbons apart for him. It shouldn’t be that novel of an idea, and something in Hyunjin’s stomach turns over at the thought that it might be.
“Is that okay?” He asks instead, softer now.
Changbin, predictable, lovely, adaptable Changbin, softens back, every line of his body going smooth and lax, his hand easing off the back of Hyunjin’s neck. “Of course, Hyunjinnie,” he says. “I’m happy just to be with you.”
A horrifying flush works it’s way immediately down Hyunjin’s face. “Ugh,” he says, despairing. When he puts a hand to his face, his cheeks are warm and doubtless pink. “Why do you have to be so cheesy?”
Changbin laughs and doesn’t stop laughing even when Hyunjin slaps him to turn around, body jumping with pleased giggles as he flips over onto his front, hugging a pillow to his chest. His back is so broad, lats spread over the breadth of his bed that Hyunjin gives into his first instinct and sinks his teeth right above Changbin’s left scapula. Changbin jumps a little, a yelp escaping him, and then sinks into the bed further, tipping his head downward so his neck is bared. He’s tan, and flushed all over—a jungle cat lazily spread out for Hyunjin to play with.
Hyunjin kisses the spot he just bit and then slowly opens Changbin up. He rarely gets to be on this side of the equation, to drink up Changbin’s gasps, muted sighs, his shifts as Hyunjin pries him open, drips more lube than is really needed, and sinks his teeth into the underside of his ass, kissing the spot soothingly.
When he’s finally ready, Hyunjin sits on the back of his heels, fumbling for the condom. “Turn around, hyung?”
Changbin peers over his shoulder, glancing at Hyunjin before moving into position. “You don’t have to,” he says, referring to the foil packet in Hyunjin’s hand.
“We both just showered,” Hyunjin laughs. Kisses Changbin’s shoulder as he settles between his legs. “But if you want me to fuck you raw that badly, I’ll do it again.”
“Yeah?” Changbin’s hands find purchase on Hyunjin’s waist, his hips arching up as a pillow slides under there. Changbin dimples. “I feel like I’m being spoiled here.”
Hyunjin stares shamelessly at the sight spread out below him; all soft, pink flesh obscuring what Hyunjin knows is hard won muscle, stomach clenching, his biceps bulging, hands tightening around Hyunjin’s waist when Hyunjin presses his cock to his entrance, something shivering at the base of his gut. “You should feel spoiled,” he says. “Let me do it more.”
Changbin opens his mouth, probably to protest that he gets exactly the right amount of spoiled and doesn’t need any more especially from his dongsaengs when Hyunjin pushes in and the response gets lost in a shuddery exhale. Bottoming out nearly makes Hyunjin lose it right then and there—all worked up already from sucking Changbin off—and he has to brace himself on the bed, hair hanging down over his face, panting with his eyes scrunched shut.
“Fuck,” Changbin hisses, shifting minutely. “Fucking hell, Hyunjin.”
“Mmm,” Hyunjin agrees, rocking back and forth. He forces his eyes to open, to take in the sight below him. “God, look at you, hyung. Your body is so fucking nice—” he cuts off with a harsh gasp when Changbin clenches around him.
“Good—good to move,” Changbin says unsteadily. His cheeks are pink, eyes bright. Hyunjin nods, sloppily tucking his hair behind his ear, braces his hand on the bed, on Changbin’s thigh, pushing it up and out of the way as he fucks in.
It feels stupefyingly good, the hot, wet heat of Changbin, rhythmically clenching around him with every thrust, the way Changbin immediately moans, hand slapping down to clutch the sheets, his cock, before yanking it away and holding the top of the headboard, self control Hyunjin could only dream of. Hyunjin sucks in a hissed breath when his rhythm stutters immediately.
“Ah, fuck,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat up. Being on the other side of the equation so often has its disadvantages, clearly. “Ah—I’m not—hyung—”
“Perfect.”
Hyunjin blinks. “What?”
“You’re doing perfect,” Changbin insists. “Now come on, fuck me.” He rolls his hips up pointedly and Hyunjin scrunches his eyes, tosses his hair and summons up every ounce of audacity, self-importance, pride in him and fucks Changbin like he means it. Like he’s been thinking about since the plane took off in Paris.
All of that attention, all of that power that flooded to his head, making him feel bubbly, and drunk on nothing—he gives it all to Changbin. The sound is almost obscene in the room—if anyone were to enter their dorm right now, there would be no secret as to what they were doing. Changbin’s cock has stiffened back up again and Hyunjin wants to wrap his hand around it, but he’s kind of afraid he’ll lose all balance if he tries.
“God, look at you, hyung,” Hyunjin gasps, eyes trained on Changbin’s face, the spread of his thighs, the bulge of his triceps as he clings to the headboard. His body. It moves with every thrust, firm and taut muscle undeniably perfect. “You look so fucking good like this. So pretty for me.”
And Changbin—Changbin shudders, gasps, pink mouth parting a little, and a hand comes off the board to cover his face. He’s blushing. Blushing. Because of Hyunjin.
Giddiness swirls through Hyunjin, even as his cock throbs harder. “I should fuck you more if this is what it does to you,” he practically wheezes, rhythm going to hell. He’s so close already. Changbin is moaning, cock drooling against his hip. “Fuck, I should hang around when Minho hyung fucks you—christ, look at you. You’re a fucking vision, hyung.”
“Ah, Hyunjin,” Changbin rasps, ears bright red, hand caught up against his chest as if to clutch at a shirt that isn’t there. Maybe it’s a protest for Hyunjin to stop. Maybe a sign for him to keep going. Hyunjin doesn’t pause to ask. He pushes forward, uses Changbin’s inexplicable flexibility for all it’s worth and cranes his neck to kiss him, hips stuttering up against Changbin’s ass.
“Feel so fucking good,” Hyunjin says into his mouth, smearing the words against Changbin’s lips. He sounds drunk. More thrown over Changbin does. He’s losing it. “Hyung, you’re so good.”
“Come—come on,” Changbin insists, his hand coming down to clutch at Hyunjin’s ass, yanking him deeper. They both groan at the sensation and Hyunjin’s head thuds onto Changbin’s collarbone, his eyes rolling back in his head. Come for me, Changbin pants, straight into his ear. Hyunjinnie, come, come for your hyung. And Hyunjin, rutting into him, shattering, buzzing, fragmenting like the eye of a camera, does.
It’s only later, after Hyunjin has batted Changbin’s hand away and made him come a second time, licking up the come from his hand with kittenish licks and batting lashes while Changbin slaps a hand over his eyes and groans in affect—after they’ve showered again together and Hyunjin lets Changbin push him against the wall and kiss him until his mouth feels puffy and tingly all over again—after they’ve curled back into bed and Hyunjin’s whole body feels like jelly, and he can hear the reassuring ba-dump ba-dump of Changbin’s heart funneling right into his ear, that he peers up at Changbin through a curtain of hair he doesn’t bother brushing back to say, “You were really hot, hyung.”
Changbin, predictably, goes red. Shuffles a little. He doesn’t really get anywhere given that Hyunjin is draped across him, stealing as much of Changbin’s body heat as he can. His very own jungle cat.
“Hyunjin-ah.”
“You were,” Hyunjin insists. “I want to do that again. More.”
Changbin looks down at him. “Yeah?” He asks, and his tone is hesitant, curious. “Really?”
“Really,” Hyunjin says. “Really, really. I promise.”
He doesn’t have the energy right now to reassure Changbin with all the words that are clamouring at the tip of his tongue, so he settles for kissing Changbin’s nose and gets to watch, in adoration, in a muted buzzy kind of love, as Changbin blushes like a Jeju sunset.