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Hanbin nearly knocks Hao’s door down the moment the latter makes the slightest indication of ending his livestream.
He does wince a little at hearing the several raps against the solid wood echoing at him through his singular earphone just as Hao is waving goodbye and before the screen turns dark, and an exhausted version of him rather than the soft-eyed boy in his phone meets him at the entrance not even thirty seconds later. He has his brow raised apprehensively, perhaps thinking it’s one of the pesky staff members ready to nag at him over the most trivial thing he could’ve said wrong, but his shoulders drop to their normal level once he registers who it is past the dimly lit doorway.
Hanbin is both indirectly and directly thankful for Gunwook, who sent Hao several text messages practically threatening him to end the live because he was planning to take a turn with Yujin and Taerae, weaponizing his Maknae Card just to say he and Yujin have to sleep earlier than everyone else and if he “doesn’t get his rest he will purposely steal the shower from him for a week once they get back to the dorm” and their food will get cold if he doesn’t hurry. Both the younger boys and Hanbin were itching by the time the live hit the forty minute mark, but for entirely different reasons.
“Anxious to see me much?” There’s a playful smirk that bunches his cheeks up, but the light doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Now that he’s no longer on camera, he doesn’t expel the extra energy to maintain the facade. He tries his best not to show how tired he is until small occurrences like this, when they create the bubble that exists only for them, where he knows it’s safe to lower his guard.
“Something like that.”
If Hao sees the open Bubble chat screen on his brightly lit phone screen—and three consecutive message bubbles in pale teal just before the fake “phone call” rolled in—he doesn’t say a word about it.
It’s hard for Hanbin to hide the bounce in his step once the older moves aside to allow him in.
And after the door shuts loudly, both pausing behind it to listen for footsteps in the hallway and ultimately deeming the coast clear of any straggling supervision or mischievous members, Hao limpens his body over Hanbin’s, ducking his head to let his chin rest on his shoulder. Hanbin stumbles back a step or two, but stabilizes himself, and Hao is also kind enough to not burden him with his entire weight. Hanbin would be willing to take all of it though, if it means Hao doesn’t have to feel the pull of gravity dragging him down.
No words are shared between them as Hanbin wraps his arms around his thin frame, closing his eyes and nuzzling his own nose in Hao’s shirt, taking in the scent of him; laundry detergent from the black tee he dug out of his suitcase, hairspray, traces of sweat from the day’s exertion, and somewhere among all of it, his own perfume.
When Hao recharges enough to pull back and press his forehead to Hanbin’s, keeping still and merely basking in the presence of each other for another lulling moment, Hanbin has to resist the urge to tilt his chin just so, to feel the softness of his plush lips against his. This room, this space is Hao’s, for now.
“I missed you,” Hanbin whispers amid the quiet, for no reason other than simply wanting him to know. Though, if he were to focus a bit harder, he would realize it isn’t quiet at all. The random play dance video Hao used as background noise for his live still runs on the television, volume on the standard setting he tends to listen to most things at. Never too loud, never too soft. Just right.
But Hanbin’s attention is on one thing and one thing only—his ears are like they’re stuffed with clouds of cotton, clearing solely to make way for the sound of the syrupy yet weary voice replying, “Me too.”
His lips must taste sweet, like the milk tea that’s imbued in his words.
“You’re not gonna ask me what’s wrong?”
“No,” Hanbin replies. He knows there’s something off, considering the candid tears he almost watched him shed in front of thousands of people. But Hao can be a very emotional person who doesn’t like to stress it when it’s something minor, so whether or not he wants to let Hanbin in on that is his choice.
Though he doesn’t ask for it, Hao indulges him the tiniest bit with the push of a peck. Which is outright wicked , if Hanbin thinks about it. They haven’t properly touched each other like this since long before Chuseok, especially with their management unexpectedly deciding to crack down on their time together save for the rare occasion they’re able to sneak around or plainly sleep in each other’s beds at night, in the purest sense of the word.
Normally, Hanbin would pout and protest with a playful whine, but Hao’s battery is barely sputtering with life after the long day they've had. So he knows when to stand down, at the very least.
“I have to take my makeup off now,” Hao complains. He buries his face in Hanbin’s neck, breaths tickling his skin. “I’m sooo lazyyy.”
In classic Hao vernacular, which Hanbin would like to think he’s fluent in by now, that unmistakably means “Pleaaasse take my makeup offfff for meeee.”
“Where’s your remover?” At that, Hao’s lips curve into a knowing smile and he moves the hands that have been sitting limply at his sides to pinch the edges of Hanbin’s shirt.
“In a pouch inside my luggage.” He presses a delicate kiss to Hanbin’s neck, prompting the hair at his nape to stand on end. “The cotton pads should be there, too.”
“‘Kay.” With a lighthearted shove, he shifts Hao’s weight off of him. “Go sit on the bed.”
“Wait.” And Hao has resorted to dotting several kisses along his neck to stall, tugging at the fabric with a bit more force to try to urge them together again.
This could go south really quick, Hanbin suspects.
So he amusedly rolls his eyes and skirts himself out of Hao’s reach, because otherwise, they would never get away from the door. “Go sit,” he commands. “I won’t help you if you take too long.”
Hao sneers at him, but shuffles his feet across the floor nonetheless, plopping down on the bed closest to them and crossing his legs in front of him. It goes to show just how tired he is, because in any other circumstance, he would absolutely put up a fight with him to stay in contact no matter what.
It’s enough that they have to be wary of the cameras and onlookers at all times. Hanbin would’ve liked to join him, sit next to him, brush his arm in passing and scoop the ice into his cup or feed each other pudding. But these are the devil’s cards they were dealt, in the end.
Sometimes, in the darkest of nights when his arms surround Hao’s still, dormant body, Hanbin contemplates if this is what success means, whether he wants it at all. But from grand moments of seeing the look of pride brighten Hao’s face when they’re onstage, to the smallest triumph of nailing a particularly difficult choreo, to the sweat and tears at the opposite end of the spectrum, Hanbin wants to live it all.
And now, the look of expectancy in Hao’s sleepy eyes as he waits for him to finish rummaging through his suitcase—an expression he knows is reserved only for him. Things can remain okay this way, for now, with stolen touches and obscured kisses.
I wouldn’t give you up for the world.
Once Hanbin has acquired the cleansing water and cotton pads, he positions himself on the bed next to Hao, tucking his feet under himself and pressing his knees into the side of Hao’s thigh. Hao raises his chin and closes his eyes, corners of his lips curved up into a soft smile while Hanbin pumps the water and then proceeds to swipe the drenched pad across his face.
He’s just so cute, and Hanbin can’t help himself. He leans forward to kiss his cheek, Hao’s lashes fluttering open in surprise, beautiful when their gaze meets despite the streak Hanbin made on his nose where his skin is unblurred, uneven.
Slowly, his eyes light up even further, diving forward himself to instead close the gap between them, joining their lips and teasing with more than just a flitting motion this time.
The sensation of Hao’s mouth linking with his is deep and deliberate, teetering between sensual and tame, cycling into a rhythm a total of four times (not that he’s counting) until Hanbin doesn’t think he can last much longer without the feeling of their tongues surrounding each other. When he pulls away, and some of Hao’s lip tint has smudged around his Cupid’s bow, he shakes his head to distract himself from the sudden heaviness in the air, and the way Hao’s eyelids have started drooping.
The shift is quick and palpable.
Absolutely no eye contact will be shared until his face is completely bare. And that’s only because falling into Hao’s hypnotic, inexorable gaze is a mistake waiting to happen. Hanbin would like to think he’s a good swimmer, but the pools of his irises are dark and unyielding. Once he’s in, he won’t be able to find his way back to the surface. Their depths are so devoid of life, yet so full of it at the same time.
It’s a lot easier said than done. While Hanbin picks up another cotton pad to run it over his blotched lips, revealing the discolored skin underneath, Hao intentionally bats his lashes in an attempt to get his attention. Hanbin has to dodge him several times, as he also moves his head around to infiltrate his field of vision.
“Stay still,” Hanbin insists, using his thumb and forefinger to hold his chin down, though it’s impossible to return the goofy grin he flashes at him. Just because he knows he’ll get sulky at the rejection, he adds, “You’ll get kisses once we’re done. I have to redeem my reward, after all."
“Who said anything about a reward?”
Hanbin pokes at his cheek. “I expect one.”
With a hum of affirmation, Hao closes his eyes again to let the other clear the subtle shadows and liner with a gentle hand.
After a few minutes, the area on the bed beside Hanbin is littered with scrunched up cotton, and the final sweep is to ensure he’s gotten every last dash of foundation.
He sees Hao without makeup every single day, but to see the transformation happen before him is another thing of its own. To see where his natural contour sharpens or softens his edges, where the tone of his skin shows the slightest hyperpigmentation, a small bump on his cheek he knows Hao will be rushing to put a pimple patch on the moment he finds out about it.
"Personally, I think you're handsome today, tomorrow, and yesterday," he murmurs. Hao giggles and pokes at Hanbin's side.
Hanbin signals to him to open his eyes when his hand drops and releases the last cotton pad into the others strewn on the comforter, and he finally allows himself to return Hao’s look, unwaveringly fixed on him. All the air is practically whipped out of his lungs.
His mind is screaming at him then, to kiss him and take all of it back.
But Hao turns away a little too soon, reaching for the remote he threw onto the bed and taking his sweet time to turn the TV off, and then it’s really silent, leaving only the buzz of the electricity in the lights and the vent blowing cold air over their heads.
“Do you wanna check it in now, then?” Hao asks, fiddling with the remote in his hands.
Hanbin almost gets too lost to remember what he’s talking about. “M-maybe,” he stammers sheepishly.
“Hmm.” He hums as he shifts his gaze up to the ceiling. “Do you take card? I’m kinda low on cash.”
Hanbin shakes his head, squinting in a smile. “No, but I may accept other forms of payment.”
Hao hums again, then looks over at the shower looming behind them. “Have you showered yet?”
Maybe it's because all that’s on Hanbin’s mind is making out with him, but he completely misses the insinuation in that. “No, Gyuvin came into my room to use mine because someone else was in his. I was going to go once they finished their live.”
“Well, you don't have to do that.”
Hanbin furrows his brows in confusion. “Huh?”
Hao uses his index finger to suddenly pull down the collar of Hanbin’s shirt. “You don't have to go back to your room to do that.”
“What do you…” Then he turns around to look at the squared off space behind the floor-to-ceiling glass—the very reason all of them had to get individual rooms in the first place. “Oh. I– Um.”
There are definitely more cons than pros to taking a shower with Hao—who knows if it’ll be just that—but nevertheless, Hanbin is unable to stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks. He already took his own makeup off while he was watching Hao’s live, so when his face heats up, a resulting smirk from the older only serves to make it worse.
“Um. I don’t have clothes I could change into afterward.”
Hao continues toying with his collar. “We could ask Jiwoong to bring you something when we’re done. Or in the morning.” He extends his finger to prod at the skin around Hanbin’s tattoo. “Sleeping naked is always an option.”
Hanbin swears that someday Hao will eventually stop surprising him when he says things that are exceedingly inappropriate, but god forbid he doesn’t say the most outlandish option on his mind, because that someday definitely isn’t now. Sometimes his brain-to-mouth filter is almost as nonexistent as Matthew’s. And to make matters worse, Hanbin’s skin is probably a deep crimson at this point.
“Hyung, n-no!” he exclaims. “Maybe I can handle Jiwoong knowing but if we do that then everyone will…”
Sure, they’ve fooled around enough times in not-so-subtle ways to make even Gyuvin and Ricky exchange mortified looks, but it goes beyond that, down to their manager whispering to him about a hickey on the back of his neck his shirt was a bit too low to hide and that he needed to change immediately. With how exhausting this entire trip to Tokyo has been, he isn’t sure he can handle another incident.
But Hao doesn’t seem as concerned. There’s a laugh waiting behind his expression. “Bin-ah, you’re really too easy to mess with. I packed an extra set of pajamas, remember?”
As a matter of fact, he does. He sat beside him as he packed his luggage and, ever the overpreparer, watched as he put an extra of every one of his essentials.
That only adds to the embarrassment.
“If you don’t want to,” Hao says before Hanbin can sputter about anything else, “we can just play it safe, it’s okay.” He then grips his collar with a fist and pulls him forward as he falls back into the bed, Hanbin’s hands instinctively coming up to break his descent by flattening over Hao’s chest. But it doesn’t stop there—Hao brings both palms up to the sides of Hanbin’s face, fingers curling behind his ears as he uses gentle force to urge him down further, and as they kiss this time, his lips are fervent, yearning. “I just,” he continues while he’s tilting his head, “want to make that reward a little more worthwhile.”
All at once, a hunger Hanbin didn't even know he was stifling comes up to bite in the form of a shy tongue prodding at Hao’s lip for Hao to meet wholeheartedly. And finally, finally, he gets to have a taste of him—he savors the traces of the sweet things that remain in his mouth, ignoring the taste of makeup remover, watering over the feeling of Hao’s lithe body under his.
If this is his attempt at convincing him, it certainly works, not that Hanbin has ever been averse to whatever Hao offers him. If he were to have asked one more time, he would’ve said yes in an instant, just because he misses this side of him so much, the special side where he gives and gives loudly.
And while he wants to spend this time with him as long as they both want without restraint, the harsh truth of their reality is that they have a flight back to Korea in the morning. Things will go back to normal the moment they step outside of this hotel room. It’s now or never.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Hao removes a hand from his face to snake it down into his shirt, not even bothering to fiddle with the hem like he usually does and straight up lifting the shirt until it’s up over his chest, and he flips them before Hanbin can even do anything to keep up with him.
“Hyung,” Hanbin exhales, though Hao isn’t listening and is already ducking his head to brush his lips to Hanbin’s jaw, down his neck, over his shirt to ultimately latch onto his chest.
By now, they’ve learned well enough to where they don’t need to direct one another in the ways of their own pleasure, countless exploits being made to study the other’s body before this, accumulating until they can reach their breaking point without a hitch. Hao is on a fast-track, running a wet tongue with the lightest pressure over his hardening nipple, fingers circling around the opposite side, perfectly knowing what it is that gets Hanbin to fall deeper. The moan that leaves him is unavoidable, yet Hao glances up at him in surprise, because despite it all they never ever get to have the luxury of noisemaking.
Hanbin rattles out an apology. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
“Matthew and Gyuvin were able to play a whole round of Mario Kart in the room next to mine and I hardly heard any of it.”
The twinkle in Hao’s eye leaves him confused for a millisecond before it dawns on him—the landlord back at the dorms has slipped enough written noise complaints under the door for Hanbin to know exactly what he means.
“You’re not joking, right?”
“Why would I be?” Hao pinches his nipple so hard Hanbin habitually clamps his lip shut. “Unless you want everyone to hear you.”
“Stop it,” Hanbin chides, but any sort of authority fails when Hao has him pressed between his body and the bed like this.
“You’re blushing again,” Hao teases, taking that moment to abruptly rise from the bed and remove his shirt in one fell swoop.
I wonder why, Hanbin wants to say, but he’s unable to utter a word as he marvels at the sight of Hao topless in front of him. His jaw drops as if it’s the first time, but it’s far, far from it.
“Get in with me. What are they gonna do? Get mad and leave us in Japan?” And it’s a joke Hao makes a lot, because it’s not like he isn’t aware of how much both of them matter to the company as individuals and as a pair. Though he does say it bitterly, because if it’s anyone drawing the short end of the stick, it’ll be him.
“We still have to be careful,” warns Hanbin. But when Hao reaches his hand out to him, he takes it, yanking him toward the shower and both of them giggling as they discard their garments along the way.
Hao is turning on the water and testing the temperature when Hanbin realizes the curtains are completely drawn, the view overlooking the skyline and mesmerizing city lights—and also parallel to other windows in distant buildings.
“Wait, let me go close the curtains—”
“Nope.” Hao restrains him with a hand on his hip and shuts the glass door of the enclosure.
“Hyung.”
Before he can continue protesting, he’s interrupted by Hao’s lips slotting between his, parting easily and melting into him as if he’s under some immediate hypnosis. Hanbin’s arms fold around his neck and it’s him that steers them under the stream of warm water while Hao presses his palm into the small of his back, wetting their bodies and easing the slip of their skin.
“If you ask me, it’s almost like you really do want to be seen.” Hao runs his fingers through the hair that has smoothed itself onto Hanbin’s forehead, slicking it back. “Giving away our hotel name on your live last night and everything.”
“Yeah? Not like you didn’t do the same. You showed off the view outside your window like your fans aren’t insane.”
“That was an oversight, but at least I can admit to it,” Hao shrugs. “But you? You kept the robe on and had your hair down, no makeup, even stuck that hamster inside…” He passes his hand down the center of Hanbin’s chest, down to his navel. “And I’m supposed to think you didn’t do it on purpose?””
“You can think whatever you want,” Hanbin drawls before leaning into another kiss.
Dropping to his knees doesn't sound so bad right now, even though this is supposed to be Hao's “reward” and all. Though if they’re keeping track, there is nothing more rewarding than feeling the weight of his cock in his mouth.
He wants Hao to tell him that, though. To tell him to drop to his knees on the solid white tile, and Hanbin would oblige because there’s also nothing he likes more than taking care of his hyung.
Hao backs away from the kiss to say, “Something on your mind?”
Hao’s ability to read him still astonishes Hanbin. “A lot.”
“Hm. I could tell.” Hao braces a hand down between them, fingers abruptly curled around his length. “Need me?”
Hanbin sticks his tongue out to cover his top lip, straining to keep himself mute once again.
“Or,” Hao continues, tapping his other thumb on Hanbin’s lip to beckon his mouth open, “need me? ”
Hanbin’s last bit of self-autonomy seeps down the drain with the water cascading over them. He could’ve transformed into a puppet from the way Hao directs him to the shower wall and urges his shoulders down without stumbling and without breaking eye contact, back sliding against the glass as he descends to sit on the balls of his feet.
Either of them could tease. And Hanbin almost does, as Hao maneuvers to replace his thumb with his tip, but sealing his lips around it and hollowing his cheeks out the moment he does is enough to send Hao’s hand flying into his hair, gripping tight with trembling fingers.
“That’s not– that’s not fair,” Hao pants.
It’s been long enough since the last time Hanbin’s been able to do this for him. “I missed you,” he says innocently, tilting his head back to look at him.
Besides, Hao is already hard enough to forgo all the little licks and the hand jerking. And Hanbin has already gotten a taste of his precum, licking his lips as he savors it. It isn’t enough to help with the craving.
“Need more,” Hanbin says, but it’s for no reason, because Hao has already dug all of his fingernails into his scalp, slipping himself back into his mouth.
It’s slow at first, focused on his tongue gliding along the head and letting Hao take charge, shallow while Hanbin mentally prepares himself. It's one thing to take it from behind, but it's another to closely monitor how it is for Hao to lose control, chasing his own pleasure.
The sound of Hao’s moan reverberating in the room is stunning as he plunges deeper, followed by a delayed, “I missed you too. So much.”
Hanbin relaxes his body, centering all of his attention on the pressure in his throat and keeping his gag reflex at bay and ignoring the oncoming pain in his knees and his toes. What matters right now is him and the sight of his gritted teeth and dangling wet hair dripping water onto Hanbin’s body.
The crown of his head keeps making contact with the glass as Hao increases his thrusts, but luckily Hao’s hands are there to prevent him from hitting it too hard. Not like he would mind either way. A point of fulfillment that he hasn’t verbally disclosed to Hao is that he likes a little pain if it means being reduced to nothing but a toy, but that’s a conversation they haven’t gotten to yet, and one he won’t be trying to have now.
For the moment, Hanbin is perfectly content feeling Hao’s cock colliding with the back of his throat, eyes half-lidded as he groans because of the growing sensation between his legs. He’s a simple man—watching his boyfriend get off is enough to get his dick straining with no other stimulation. He knows Hao will be teasing him for it once he notices, but his face is beginning to contort and his taste is becoming stronger in Hanbin’s mouth. Despite it all, Hanbin is incapable of stopping the hand that drifts to his length, searing heat burning his palm as he searches for relief.
He could do this all day. No sleep, no food, no water. Only Hao.
“Where do you want it?” Hao spouts. And Hanbin would almost be empty-headed enough to ask what he means with his expression if it weren’t for the erratic motions of his hips. “Here?” Hao traces the bridge of his nose. “Or… here?” And even while he’s still moving inside his mouth, he spreads Hanbin’s lips wider to the side with his thumb.
“Wherever you want, hyung,” he would say if he wasn’t preoccupied. I’m all yours.
Maybe a brand of ownership is what Hao is looking for today, too, because he doesn’t wait for a response of any sort before he offers, “It’s been a while since I’ve done it on your face, though, hasn’t it?”
At this point, Hanbin is going to run out of blood to flush his cheeks. Hao has told him his face is an open book, so he hopes he can convey to him with his eyes, at the very least; That’s what I want too.
So he does the final sprint and drives hard and deep, stilling for a few seconds while Hanbin takes him entirely and god , he thinks he’s losing his feeling in all his digits because he can’t breathe. If he stays still any longer, Hanbin may have to tap out of this one—a helpless whine is all he can muster with the last bit of oxygen he has as tears begin to form in his ducts.
When Hao hurriedly withdraws and leaves Hanbin’s tongue limp and lungs searching for air, he commands him to close his eyes, but Hanbin can’t. Though it’s risky, he can’t miss the divine view from below as Hao gets rosier and he loses complete sense with his face twisting in the last second before he feels it.
Hot liquid narrowly missing his eyebrow is what he takes as his cue, biting his lip hard at the sound of Hao moaning. And it’s everywhere: his left eyelid, his nose, his lip and his chin.
Hao takes a short moment to recover, and it’s just the sound of the running water and their heavy breaths in tandem while he waits.
The signal comes with Hao’s thumb swiping over his eye, and Hanbin makes an attempt at being purposely erotic by licking the cum around his mouth. The taste of Hao is so familiar to him, he can’t help but grin while he tentatively blinks his eye open.
“Hanbin?” Hao calls, his voice particularly raspy.
Hanbin’s voice is in worse condition though, considering the rough work his throat just went through. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think we’ll be finishing our shower anytime soon.”
Hanbin snickers. “Save the planet, my ass.”
“Okay, the planet is nothing to joke about, Bin,” he claims. He humors himself by stepping away and turning the metal handle back.
“Doing your part?” says Hanbin, rising to his feet.
“They’re gonna put me on a Time magazine cover story for this.”
“Like hell they will.”
Hao comes back to take him by the wrist and spin him around to press his entire body against the glass.
“Yeah. I’d probably end up on covers for a way more unseemly reason.”
Hanbin can picture it though, aside from the vulgarity of his implications—Hao’s face all over subway ads and billboards and newsstands. He could get there one day. They could. Because while he wishes all the glory of fame for Hao, he would sacrifice everything to stand by his side and watch it all unfold.
Hao distracts him away from his thoughts with a feathery touch down his spine. His body reacts without him meaning to, arching his rear out when Hao takes a squeeze. Hanbin thinks there may be more of this coming, but Hao seems to have other, more straight-to-the-point things in mind.
Like using a saliva-coated finger to circle around his rim, the smallest of noises squeaking out of his windpipe.
“You haven’t had anything here in a minute, have you?” Hao kisses his shoulder from behind. “Not even yourself?”
“It’s not the same without you,” Hanbin blurts honestly.
“Well.” Hanbin feels his words ingraining themselves in his skin. “I’m here now.”
And the feeling as his sole finger enters him is like an anesthetic for his entire body. He doesn’t know what he would do if Hao weren’t physically holding him up. “Hyung,” he breathes.
“Let it out.”
Hanbin listens to him and moans louder as his finger works deeper inside him, and it’s too early to lose patience but he wishes so badly it was his cock already.
“Hyung,” he pleads again. “Just put another in, I don't think I can take much longer.”
He shouldn't have said that.
“So,” Hao says into his ear, “are you sure you don't want to run and close the curtains?”
Hanbin’s voice is restricted by his cheek against the glass. “You were the one who told me not to, you ash-hole.” Hao gives a particularly hard thrust with his wrist, a shock of white up his body forcing Hanbin’s legs into a trembling mess. “Oh my god,” he wheezes out loud.
Hao ignores him. “Just saying, who knows? There could be one of those girls with the crazy camera lenses peeping in on us right now.” Hao takes Hanbin’s chin from behind, redirecting his vision toward the building across from theirs. “They could've purposely booked a room right across from ours to watch us do this.”
“Oh m–” Hanbin wants to say again, but Hao has taken hold of his neglected cock, and the pleasure stunts another moan out of him.
“So let's give them something to watch, hm? Should we go live again too so they can hear us?”
Hanbin doesn't know why his body is so reactive to that, as his length twitches in Hao’s grasp, but Hao has him measured to the last millimeter. He wishes he could tell him to stop, but he's speechless, his vocal cords only working to release sounds of pure bliss.
They’ve done a fair share of things in scandalous locations already, so this really isn’t the worst it could get—besides the practice room in the middle of the night, the dressing rooms, the soundproofed studio. Hao has already briefly commented on taking him in the M Countdown restroom on a commercial break during the next round of promotions, which doesn’t seem very feasible, but it was sufficient in making him red in the face for a full twenty minutes anyway. Maybe he's known since then.
Not much time passes until he's easing his third digit inside him, simultaneously jerking him in the front, and Hanbin has his hands flat on foggy glass, streaking down ten different lines painted by the drag of all his fingers.
“Hyung,” he's pleading. “Please, I don't think I can do this anymore.” He's being as honest as he can possibly be. Any longer and his knees will buckle and give out before they can get anywhere else.
“What is it you want me to do?” Hao questions with feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you're referring to.”
Hanbin always gets embarrassed when it comes to this part, though Hao finds endless joy in it.
“Y-you know what I mean, please. ”
Wrong answer. Definitely the wrong answer. Hao halts all hand movements to let it fester, Hanbin left greedy for more, hips lurching in desperation while a distressed groan rings back at him.
“L-let me help you feel good,” he manages. “Put it inside...”
“Put what inside?” Hao nips at his earlobe. “Say it loud and clear, so everyone can hear you.”
If he arches his back a bit more, he can at least feel Hao's touch graze his prostate. Disobedience would normally be out of the picture, but Hanbin can only hope he's tired enough to not do anything about it for now. And that he's missed him as much.
“Hyung, put your cock inside me,” he finally whimpers pathetically, as stably as he can and glancing back with a pleading expression in the way he's well aware Hao is weak for. “Please use me.”
Hao narrows his eyes but concedes, curling his fingers. “Is three enough?”
Hanbin’s brain is far beyond his body’s grasp at this point. “It’s enough. I don’t care, it’s enough.”
Maybe the worst part about his whole thing is that Hanbin is unable to see him, to see the expression on his face as he inches his fingers out of him.
“Okay. Don’t move. Let me grab the lube, for the sake of the environment and all.”
Hanbin’s jaw drops in utter disbelief at the fact he even packed lube in the first place. He must’ve sneaked it in before they left, because Hanbin definitely doesn’t remember it being on his checklist. He gawks as Hao nakedly strides out of the shower, body still dripping and trailing wet footprints on the floor, approaching his carry-on to pluck out a travel-sized bottle the moment he opens the zipper.
“Why was that at the top of all your things?” Hanbin croaks.
Hao chooses to ignore him as he pulls out a box of condoms next and flashes it at him with raised brows. “Yes or no?”
Hanbin’s throat goes completely dry. A few minutes more of this and he'll totally lose his voice. The question is just a formality, yet the decision is more than clear, given they only use condoms for quick clean-ups and avoiding messes in every other instance.
“Don't,” he says anyway, because Hao is infuriating enough to not move without a proper answer.
He drops the box on the bed instead of back in the bag and heads back over, Hanbin turning around to greet him by wrapping his arms around his neck and eating him with a hungry kiss.
Hao wastes no time, using the kiss as a distraction while he snaps the bottle open and douses his fingers in the liquid to spread it all over his hole, Hanbin holding onto him tighter like that'll make any of this any easier. But he loves the feeling of their chests together, and the feeling of Hao spreading him open, and the feeling of moaning freely into his mouth.
“Hyung,” Hanbin calls for the hundredth time just because he may disappear if he doesn't keep saying it. This could be nothing more than a dream if Hanbin doesn't remind himself over and over.
“Baby,” Hao says back, ever-present.
And the next time their lips meet it tastes even better somehow. Slow. Languorous. Illusive. Calm before the storm.
Hanbin has to turn around to facilitate things, hands against the glass once more and trembling at the thought of Hao’s tip breaching him any second and the wetness of his body combined with the hotel air catching up to him. And he curses himself for not going out with him so they could do this properly on the bed, or on the loveseat Hao sat in during his live with a towel laid out beneath them. Fortunately, just because they start off here doesn't mean they can't end up there. He’ll have to bring it up once one of them gets too tired, if they would even continue at all. At this point, Hanbin thinks he could go for hours.
“I missed you,” he says, pressing his forehead against the solid wall.
It's the last thing he can say before he senses Hao, hot and slick flesh burning into him, gasping at the familiar but not entirely unpleasant sting as he prods his way inside him. He screws his eyes shut and chokes out a pained moan, Hao’s hands tightening at his hips.
“It really– has been a while,” he strains, equally as affected, “you’re tight. Are you okay?”
Maybe that fourth finger really was necessary, but it would've been the same struggle anyway. Hanbin doesn't mind it. He just needs him. “I’m okay.”
“If you need me to stop, just say the word.”
Hanbin nods into the glass, bending his arm back and reaching for Hao’s hand at his waist for support. “Go.”
He knows he hasn't gone in all the way, knowing Hao’s body just as well as he knows his. He isn't even halfway. So he braces himself for the inevitable pain as Hao rolls his hips forward painstakingly slow, groaning out the entire time because he can't help it and Hao releasing his own noises behind him because, though he knows it's causing him discomfort, his walls are embracing him in all the right ways.
What matters here is Hao, anyway. So Hanbin is willing to make the sacrifice for him. He's willing to give it all.
When his rear meets Hao’s hipbones, he experimentally pushes back against him, urging him even deeper.
“This is a side of you only I get to see, Binnie-yah.” Hao rests his face on Hanbin's shoulder. “But I’ll let the world get a glimpse of how Perfect Sung Hanbin falls apart only for me, just for today. What do you think?”
I can't think. “Yes, hyung. I’m yours,” gasps Hanbin. None of this is real. He's caught in a trance.
The only thing that anchors him to reality is the slippery lube trailing down his legs after Hao adds more, and then the sensation of him pulling back, all the way out, just to mercilessly slam into him, Hanbin’s cheek flattening against the glass and sending the fixture rattling. It hurts, but the admission that he's more than okay with it would surely ruin the rhythm, so he resorts to being audible, taking Hao’s word for the soundproofing though they surely would've gotten their door knocked down by now if it weren't true.
“They've got their cameras out, Hanbin. Don't you think they're going to be surprised at their unwavering leader bending over for me?”
Hanbin cracks an eye open to glance at the building across from them, because for a second he's speaking so convincingly he could almost believe him. On the contrary, all the curtains are down and there's not a person or a camera in sight. But that doesn't mean someone couldn't flip them open and catch them in an instant. It's also not like what he's saying doesn't have a hint of truth to it either. Anyone could send a tip in to Dispatch or post on an anonymous forum and expose their secret to the world. Hanbin whimpers at the thought, forgetting to answer Hao’s question but abandoning it in the dust when he thrusts more, and harder.
Hao definitely caught it, though. “If you want it to be true so badly, we can make it happen, jagi. ”
Hanbin panics. “N-no! Only for you.”
And Hao cups Hanbin’s cheek to twist him back enough to kiss him with possessive lips. “Good boy.”
Hanbin… didn't think things would escalate this far.
Especially when a twist in his lower abdomen nearly makes his knees buckle at the pet name and praise back-to-back.
And especially when Hao shows no remorse and begins to build up a steady pace as he continues to kiss him, pressing his nose against the side of Hanbin’s face when he has to let go and audibly unleash the sheer pleasure.
Shower sex has got to be one of the most uncomfortable things in the world, seeing as he still has to keep his head on straight enough to not make a wrong move and slip on the wet tile, and he can't deny he much prefers to take it lying down even with all the stamina he holds. But he admits the way Hao is angling his drives is almost new, and the vulnerability needed to shower with someone in the first place is enough to make his heart swell.
Hanbin loves Zhang Hao, though he hasn't been brave enough to say it yet. After months of sharing each other's firsts over the better part of a year, lesser months of them as a couple, months of not Sung Hanbin or Zhang Hao but Sung Hanbin and Zhang Hao.
The heat and the pressure when they’re skin-to-skin and the sharp sound of their bodies crashing together could make him say it. He’d gotten really damn close after the night he gave him his virginity, when they were caught in a rare moment alone in the dorms and their sweaty clothes still hung off their limbs by the end. And he knew he loved him since long before then too—he figures it was over the moment he saw his face next to his on the large monitor as their blood stilled during the finale, and all he could think while digging his fingers into his back was I don’t think I would’ve been able to do this without you.
Hanbin knelt down at the foot of his bed in prayer to a god he no longer believed in, a rosary his mother encouraged him to carry wrapped around his palm as he prayed and wept, not for himself, but for the brilliant violinist boy with the cute hair clips and the cute moles and the cute ears.
That’s why Hanbin will continue to drop to his knees at his beck and call, to worship him the way he had forsaken all those years ago if it means the prayers will come true. That’s why Hanbin will beg for him, follow his lead, sacrifice his mind, body, and soul for him.
But to tell him he loves him?
Does God ever say I love you back?
Nevertheless, he has already pledged all his blind faith, whether Hao knows it or not. And as he fucks him senseless, while he cries out his name in ecstasy, and his nails grind into the flat surface in front of him, he’ll continue to do whatever he wants.
When he stops everything and snatches a towel off the bar to direct them out of the shower, and just when Hanbin thinks they’re heading to one of the beds again, Hao drags him to the loveseat by the window and throws the towel on it to keep it as dry as possible, then uses a flat hand to get him to bend over once again, elbows propped on the back of the seat while he faces out.
He didn’t think it could get any worse, but to be even closer to the view of the city lights against the blooming night sky, where in exchange they are easier to see, is so humiliating he has to hide his face in the cushion, grunting into the fabric when Hao buries himself inside him again.
He has mixed feelings toward how lewd it feels, his hole spread perfectly to fit him inside, because on one hand he relishes it, but on the other, if someone were to look in on them right now, it would be more than obvious that Perfect Sung Hanbin really does only fall apart for Hao.
If he raises his head and looks hard enough, though, he can make out their reflection, the flush of his face while Hao plunges into him. If he props himself up and turns around, he can twist himself for Hao to lean forward and drop an open-mouthed kiss, the latter moaning and squeezing his waist tighter, because he knows how much he likes their kisses, even if he’ll never admit it.
He completely forgets about the performance they’re putting on, the second one of the day, and allows Hanbin to turn over completely, back on the towel and legs parted for him to enter and fully wrap around him while his entire body lurches as he pounds him, and the couch starts to creak against the hardwood floor.
“Fuck. Maybe we– should grab those condoms,” Hao suggests.
But Hanbin isn’t sure he can stand another moment without his body on top of his. He can’t speak properly to give him an answer, but he left the box on the bed, and while letting Hao fill him up would be the cherry on top, there’s no way that can happen without leaving a mess afterward. And with the managers inspecting every last thing in each room before checkout, there’s no way they can have that happen.
So they relocate to the other bed that was untouched, Hao grabbing the box and fastening a condom on himself in record time. Hanbin is too dazed to grab one himself, and Hao doesn’t think to, too rushed to have Hanbin writhing under him to know any better.
“Hyung,” Hanbin pleads, and Hao is dotting kisses all over his collarbone, over his tattoo, until they embrace each other and Hanbin can’t tell if the wetness between them is water or sweat.
I love you, he thinks.
And the wetness becomes something else, after the friction becomes too much and he comes all over himself, throwing his head back, and if anyone didn’t know what they were up to in this room, they definitely know with the shaky yell he aims at the ceiling.
Hao doesn’t stop, not until his hips are twitching and his movements are ragged, and Hanbin covers his mouth in awe as Hao’s digs slow to a stop and his body shudders.
They can’t leave the room for a while, not until the afterglow lets up.
It’s Hao who gets up after the high is over and discards his condom before wetting a rag and swiping it across Hanbin’s stomach, still sensitive and quivering at the contact.
And Hao gets into bed with him, covers thrown off because it would be too hot for Hanbin otherwise, pressing them together to regulate their temperatures as best as they can.
“I was… thinking about the cat.”
Hanbin has no idea where this is coming from, until he remembers Hao’s somber mood when he came in.
“The cat?”
“I raised a cat with my…”
Then it clicks. “Oh. Your friend.” He snorts, because he definitely understood the implications when he said it. You don’t just raise a cat with a friend.
“Sorry. Talking about an ex after sex is pretty major on the list of red flags.”
“It is.” If there’s a twinge of jealousy at the mention of it, he tries not to let it show.
Hao traces his tattoo with his finger. “Yeah. But I figured you wanted to know anyway. And it’s not like I was thinking of him while we were… you know.”
“I know you weren’t.” Hanbin gives him a quick peck. “Thank you for telling me.”
Hao is quiet for a bit, as he continues circling the ink until his skin is numb. “I would do more than just raise a cat with you,” he says.
And Hanbin would be stupid to not realize what that means. It makes him want to laugh, because of course Hao would find some roundabout way to confess something like that.
“Me too.” Hanbin nuzzles his nose into his, acting like his heart isn’t beating out of his chest. “I’d really like that.”
In a couple of weeks is the trip to Paris. And all the matching couple items in every outing didn’t feel like enough to Hanbin by the time they flew back to Korea.
So he planned it then, to tell him he loves him in the City of Love, and all the cities they experience together afterward. He’s already missed too many—Los Angeles, London, Warsaw, Tokyo.
And while he planned for something grand: in front of the Eiffel Tower after sneaking out of the hotel in the middle of the night over melted ice cream cones, it doesn’t happen that way.
It happens after they eat pizza together in the hotel room, after cleaning off a bit of sauce he clumsily got on his lip, and cuddling and taking a selfie with him and listening to music together during his short live.
Hao was looking at him with eyes he couldn't fathom while they spoke about mundaninities.
And he says it back.
And Hao has to break his promise of returning once the internet is better. Because even though it’s only the late afternoon, their bodies become one again, over and over.
Matthew points out that something about them is different when they head out as a group. And though they have to stand apart, they sneak glances, and Hanbin is caught in a blushy mess every time.
Gyuvin laughs at how red his face looks in one of the group photos they take.
And Hao laughs, too, a little harder than the rest of them, eyes as crescent moons and cheeks full of life.
Because he knows he’s the reason why.