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Heat rises to the back of his ears and every inch of his body tingles. He reaches up to pull at his collar, trying to loosen it with fumbling fingers. He fails.
“Shit,” Sohee lets slip.
It’s so, so hot. Burning really. His reflection stares back at him, bottom lip being chewed up like a dog toy by his sharp canines. Hazy pink spreads like the plague across his cheeks and he reckons that he looks like he has put on too much blush, which wouldn’t really be an excuse, considering the fact that he didn’t even do his own makeup.
Drops of perspiration glisten, dampening his temples. He huffs and seeks sanctuary on the toilet bowl, desperately thinking of a way out of this.
What the fuck was in that drink?
Sohee only remembers being handed a soda during filming while he was waiting for his turn. Doesn’t even know who handed him the drink, who might’ve done something to it. He inwardly groans at his own carelessness.
A shudder runs through his body and his eyes travel down to the very obvious tent in his pants, straining against the zipper. Without knowing, his fingers are already on their way to straighten out his boner but he pulls back immediately.
No. He is not going to do that here.
Not when all his members are outside filming. Jerking yourself off behind the scenes of a set? Absurd. That sounds like something a perverted, horny little shit would do. And Sohee likes to think that he isn’t a perverted, horny little shit.
“Sohee hyung?”
A quiet, gentle voice calls out from behind the bathroom door. It startles Sohee so much that he slides off the seat and lands with a thump on the floor. He yelps, and then slaps his hands over his mouth when he remembers who is outside.
“Hyung, you’ve been in there for fifteen minutes. Is everything okay?”
Is everything okay? No, absolutely not. He just popped a boner on set and it's not only embarrassing, but strangely more painful than usual. Every cell was burning like he had a fever and his head was starting to feel like it was stuffed with cotton, so oddly light that it was disconcerting.
But it’s the mix of humiliation, his dick begging for some kind of stimulation and Anton’s sweet, loving voice that drives Sohee over the edge. He drops his head, curling his legs tighter around his body and sniffles.
He fucking sniffles.
Anton hears it, because the next thing Sohee knows, he’s knocking on the door hurriedly, asking to be let in.
“Please hyung, open up. Whatever it is, I won’t judge you for it. I swear. We’ll fix it together. Don’t lock yourself in, please? Or you can tell me what’s wrong, I can go and get help.”
It's only because Sohee feels like he’s about to pass out that he unlocks the door.
The door swings open and Sohee realises that he’s probably starting to hallucinate, based on the light that was hitting Anton’s face like a halo effect, making him look like an actual angel. An angel here to save him from this mess.
Anton drops down to Sohee’s height, bless him (but Sohee thinks the gods already did), cupping his face in his palms. They're large, not as big as Sungchan's, but they are warmer than the flush that itches beneath Sohee's skin. He whimpers in relief and presses his cheek further in his hand. Craving. Craving for more.
Sohee’s eyes are watery, rounded eyes shimmering with tears and Anton instinctively wants to lean down and kiss those tears away. His lips are all pouty like a small duck, skin flushed with a pinkish hue.
“Promise you’ll help me?” the smaller boy asks, desperate.
Anton swallows.
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Hurts!”
Is the first thing Sohee cries once Anton has locked the door behind them again, settling the smaller boy against the wall. Sohee grips the sink, the cluttered toilet causing him to feel both claustrophobic and exposed to the boy before him as he shivers like a leaf.
"Where does it hurt?" Anton is brushing Sohee’s ever messy fringe away from his face, studying him with worry filled eyes. They are honey brown, Sohee wants to drain them of their sweetness like a honeybear, because the sight of them makes his heart throb painfully. Then those warm eyes look down, and he doesn’t miss the way they significantly grow wide.
Realisation hits like a bullet train screeching to a halt. Anton stills, now very aware of Sohee’s “problem”. The blood rushing to Sohee's head slows in his ears and he swears something in his brain short circuits. He wants- no, needs Anton to touch him now.
“Help,” he squeaks. “Please.”
How could he say no? Sohee was asking so nicely with a tone that suggested he was begging instead, his eyes shining prettily under the lustreless bathroom lights. He has always been pretty, he knows that. And Anton is a sucker for all things pretty.
There is barely any question left when Anton grabs his delicate wrists and dives, straight into the softness of Sohee’s lips.
Hands. Fingers. They let go of his hands and roam the slender curve of his waist and hips as Anton continues to take him in, his tongue pressing against his own. He makes sure not to bruise Sohee’s lips though, so that the makeup artists won’t be mad. Still it’s messy, eager and Sohee has to tilt his head upwards to gasp for air. Anton allows him, but right after it's back to a battle of how long they can last without breathing.
Sohee reaches down to tug at his waistband but Anton stops him.
“We can’t,” he says, and regrets it immediately when tears well up in Sohee’s eyes. His bottom lip wobbles and Anton feels weak. “There is one more group photo we have to take later. We may dirty your clothes if we do it the usual way.”
“Then what do we do?” It comes out in a shaky whisper, Sohee gripping onto the broadness of Anton’s shoulders.
They are both facing the toilet bowl, pants and Anton’s leather jacket discarded to the side. Anton’s broad chest is pressed up against Sohee’s back and he can feel his chest muscles flex beneath his skin tight t-shirt. The stylists sure knew what they were doing with Anton’s outfit today. The thin material of the white shirt he had on clinging on to his swimmer’s frame, highlighting the toned muscle that stretched across his abdomen.
It’s sexy, to say the least.
Sohee flinches when the younger male finally pulls down his underwear, cool air hitting his quivering dick, sending a tingle up his spine. There is already a smear of precum decorating its pink tip. He isn’t big, Sohee was well aware of that, but he was never quite ashamed of his size. Rather, he supposes his penis is quite suitable for his tinier frame and stature.
But then Anton pulls out his fucking monster of a dick and Sohee’s seems to shrink in comparision. Deflate really.
He flushes immediately, ducking his head in embarrassment. Anton notices and has the audacity to chuckle. Sohee wants to say something in protest but his head starts to spin, blood rushing to his dick once again.
He whimpers as it swells, throbbing painfully. Anton wraps his long, warm fingers around their shafts, somehow managing to fit both their lengths in one hand, begins to pump slowly. He isn’t tyrannically large, more girthy than thick and it is beautiful like the rest of him, as expected.
Runs his right hand up and down and Sohee moans out at how good it feels to have their dicks rubbing together, he can feel every vein on Anton’s stimulating his own. Pleasure pools deep in his tummy, it feels so good that his cheeks are wet with tears and he doesn’t know when he started crying. Anton’s hand pumps consistently, now slightly faster than before. Sohee can feel the small puffs of air that tickle the back of his neck as Anton’s breathes, quiet moans hovering over his ears.
“I- I can’t hold it,” he whimpers. He’s shivering, Sohee thinks he feels a bit feverish too with how warm his skin is getting. Anton shushes him, soothing his worries with a couple words he doesn’t quite understand. He’s speaking English, Sohee realises. But it works anyway and Sohee’s crying fades into hiccups. Anton thinks he sounds downright adorable.
“You don’t have to hold it,” Anton speaks gently. Sohee’s heart trembles at the tenderness. “Let it out, baby. Can you do that for me?”
Sohee tries to nod. He really does. But a cry tears from his throat and his stomach clenches down, the dam of pleasure waves crashing through, all at once. He’s sobbing Anton’s name brokenly; Chanyoung, Chanyoung, silken ropes of cum coating the porcelain below. His body is limp as an aftermath, but somehow Anton has him, free arm wrapped around his waist to hold him steady. Soon after, the younger follows suit, letting out a soft groan as he shoots his own load into the toilet water.
Anton doesn’t complain when he cleans Sohee and himself up, his gentle touches ever so reassuring. He tells Sohee to sit and rest, so that he can gather enough strength to walk out of the bathroom by himself later. He also doesn’t seem upset, but Sohee feels terrible. It was his fault for being careless, yet he had roped a member into a mess he wasn’t capable of handling on his own.
“What happened? You’re not the type to randomly get turned on.”
There it is. Anton is giving him that worried look again and it makes Sohee want to slip into his fumbling, bumbling, crybaby mode that he swore he left behind in kindergarten.
“I don’t know,” he cringes at the way his voice cracks. “I think someone put something in my drink.”
The tap stops running and Anton’s expression turns grim in the mirror’s reflection. His knuckles turn white around the handle of the tap. Guilt creeps up from the back of Sohee’s throat. Did he feel like he was being made use of? To fulfill Sohee’s minute desires when he was stupidly, carelessly under the influence of some drug?
“I’m sorry,” he makes out, miserable.
Anton walks over and crouches before Sohee. His lips are curled up into a charming smile befitting of a fairytale prince and he leans closer. Sohee is transfixed on the honey brown of his eyes again, kind and endearing. He reaches out to brush over the mole under his eye, right where a tear had managed to escape.
“It's not your fault. Don’t cry,” he says, voice mellow like his smile. “But we need to find out who it is, so that something like this won’t happen to you again.”
Oh. Anton. So warm, sweet, kind.
His comforting presence made everything in Sohee’s world feel alright, even if things were a little out of place at the moment.
His safe place. So so thankful to have Anton.
There are noises from behind the door, some footsteps approaching. Anton glances at the door and pushes himself to a stand, folding his leather jacket over his shoulder. His white shirt is glued to his back with perspiration in some parts when he turns around and Sohee knows the stylist noona will be stressing about it when they return. Although he should probably worry more about the wrath that the makeup team will be unleashing on him with all the crying that he did. He can still feel tear tracks drying over layers of ruined makeup, even with the younger’s efforts to soak them up with toilet paper.
“We should get out. The hyungs are probably looking for us since break time is over.”
He turns to Sohee and offers his hand. See? Angel. He takes it and Anton hauls him to his feet.
Anton unlocks the door. Sohee waits for him to open it, but Anton fingers just shy over the knob. He turns and leans down to Sohee’s confusion, says with his demure voice just above a whisper, “In case you’re wondering hyung, I enjoyed it. I wouldn’t mind doing it again.
Also, you’re really pretty when you cry.”
Sohee wants to dig a hole in the ground and die. Angel his ass.
That’s a devil in disguise.