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If you asked Seonghwa, rockstars were overrated.

Usually, children with overactive minds and a love for music always decided the peak of life would be becoming a rockstar, and then they became teenagers. No one past the age of thirteen still thought playing in a band and performing crazy beats with questionable lyrics was fun, but hey, who was he to judge? For starters, his best friend since middle school kept his seemingly unreachable dream and actually made it. Hongjoong, despite his shortcomings, found a couple of guys crazy enough to fuck around with the rockstar dream, and somehow, they were quite famous in their circle. Seonghwa had never seen anyone talk about them outside of the club’s regulars and friends of friends, but that wasn’t a surprise, not when their current name was Cherry Coke Cigs—which, by the way, was Hongjoong’s bright idea.

Nevertheless, they had their public. Most of it included young girls who drooled for sweaty men singing about depression and banging someone’s brain out, but it still counted. Well, there were also the unlucky souls that were roped into supporting them for political ties—like this poor guy almost falling asleep on his seat, who was dating San Choi’s sister—which was basically his involvement in all this. His friend was Hongjoong Kim, a music production and engineering major who had always dreamed of having his own band. When they were in high school, Seonghwa was roped into singing for him in a two-man band for the school’s talent show, and after that, he swore to never touch a stage again. Don’t get him wrong, he was a good singer, but Hongjoong was a compulsive perfectionist, and nothing will ever make him forget how many hours of practice he had to endure on top of midterms. They were in the middle of college now, but his studying time had decreased tenfold for his friend alone.

Look, they were good, for a band that practiced in Yeosang Kang’s family garage and every other place that allowed them to, but it didn’t take a genius to know they weren’t making it very far. If, by some sort of miraculous luck, some important figure in the industry somehow found themselves in their usual club—a family business of one of Hongjoong’s friends, to add—then perhaps they could become the next Pink Floyd, or something. He hoped for his friend’s success at the end of the day, so he could only dream one day they would all flourish into the rockstars they were born to be. But for now, he had all the right to bitch about their ridiculously tardy late night shows and edgy performances.

“Not happy to be here tonight, are you?”

Seonghwa looked up with glossy eyes, his ears thumping uncomfortably as the too loud music obstructed him from listening to anything, really. He was greeted by Yunho Jeong’s nice smile, a sight he was already used to by now. Yunho’s family owned this club, and from what he knew, when his father managed the place, it used to be classy and high-end, but now it housed Cherry Coke Cigs, as absurd as it sounded, so its older regulars moved on and opted to drink at home instead. A sensible choice, in his opinion, one he would also take if Hongjoong didn’t force him to witness his shows every single possible time. Moral support, he called it, but this had to be punishment of some kind.

“No, especially not tonight,” he answered, running his hand through his already too long hair. “I have a group presentation tomorrow, first period.”

“Yikes,” Yunho clicked his tongue. “Want something to soothe your nerves, then?”

He grinned, “Do I have to pay?”

“Nah, it’s on Hongjoong’s tab, as always.”

This was their little inside joke, one he hoped Hongjoong never found out about. To be fair, he was here against his will, the least his friend could do was pay for his drinks. He had never noticed by now—as he rarely paid his debts anyway—and honestly, it should stay like that for a long time. Seonghwa could afford to drink a cocktail or two for the night, but it weighed on his conscience to spend the money on something like this when he could easily use it on something more valuable. Again, it all came back to the issue at hand; if he wasn’t here in the first place, he wouldn't worry about such things. This was the price Hongjoong had to pay for his friendship.

“Here you go.”

Yunho slid a tall glass with what he recognized as a frozen margarita, grinning mischievously. Seonghwa followed his line of sight, choking on his own spit when he saw who he was looking at. Instead of staring any further, he looked back at the bartender, taking a sip of his freshly made cocktail. It was strong but sweet, light but heavy, a masterpiece worthy of being created by Yunho’s big hands. Once he had told him the meaning of it, something akin to “cheer up”, perhaps this was his way of giving him strength. It would be a long night, the cold eyes fixed on the back of his head told him so.

Yunho whistled, “Is something up between you and the band?”

“No, I rarely talk to them,” Seonghwa swallowed the liquid on his mouth faster than he wanted to, his ears already turning pink. “Yeosang Kang and I share some classes, if that counts.”

“I’m not talking about Yeosang,” he pointed out. “Look.”

Against his better judgment, he turned his head around, a pair of black eyes already staring straight at him with a single raised eyebrow. This wasn’t an unfamiliar spot for him at all, but he preferred not being in it at least until the band was halfway done, and they haven’t even started yet. On top of the stage, with heavy eyelids and robotically adjusting one of the mics, was Wooyoung Jung, the lead guitarist of Hongjoong’s band. He was the first one to join him, their name being Bad Mad Dogs at the time, and ever since then, Seonghwa decided it was better to stay clear out of sight from the shorter man. Of course, his prayers fell on deaf ears. Wooyoung, with his slick black tank top, dark jeans that hugged his legs just right and a light gray jacket hanging low on his hips, was the definition of sinful. The last time he saw him, his hair was an angry red, making him stick out like a sore thumb amongst his bandmates, but now he was ten times more dangerous, more threatening. He wasn’t the obnoxious guy with too bright hair anymore, but instead, the freshly dyed all-black man with hair long enough to tangle fingers in. God.

Whatever was going on between them was horrible for many reasons, but the main one was this. Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to quietly support his best friend and be on his merry way, but he couldn’t, not when the lead guitarist was there, looking at him like the only person he could ever want. He hoped no one noticed, for his own sake. Seonghwa had never been one to do the sneaking type of relationship, mostly because he didn’t do relationships in the first place. It had been the easiest choice to look at hot men and regard them as eye candy more than anything else, but when he first met Wooyoung, his mindset completely changed. What they were doing was not wrong, per se, but something about fucking his best friend’s guitarist behind his back was not exactly ethical to him at all. Really, he meant this wholeheartedly, but how could he resist that which spurred him on? Wooyoung was just that type of guy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, clearing his throat and going back to his drink.

Yunho chuckled, the way uncles did when their nephews thought they had it all under control, when in reality, everyone already knew what they were up to. It was mortifying, but Wooyoung made no effort to hide his lustful eyes when at the end of their shows he helped them pick up to leave. Seonghwa supposed that meant it wasn’t much of a secret on his part, at least, but no one had to know the feeling was mutual. It almost felt like a coming-out party to conservative parents, not because Hongjoong and the other guys were overbearing or cared at all, but because tangling up in bed sheets with someone like Wooyoung Jung shattered his image of a respectable, responsible college student like a wrecking ball.

“You’re not as low-key as you think you are.”

Seonghwa shuddered when lips touched his naked ear, whispering one of the scariest things he had heard after Wooyoung shamelessly told him he would look good on his knees. He could recognize that teasing hint anywhere, even with his eyes closed. Jongho Choi, a fresh out of high school sweetheart that liked acting like a little shit more often than not. He was San Choi’s younger cousin, so it was obvious why he hung out around these parts. The club was open for minors as long as they didn’t consume alcohol, and though he wasn’t one anymore, he had been for the majority of time since the band started performing. In any case, Seonghwa knew him quite well by now, the two of them usually sitting down on the stools in front of Yunho’s workstation to get some sense of fresh air. Sometimes, however, Jongho brought his friends and simply waved in his direction before going to the dance floor with them.

“Respect your elders, you punk,” Seonghwa flicked his forehead, rolling his eyes. “You shouldn’t form opinions on adult conversations.”

“I’m legally an adult too,” he singsonged. “More or less.”

“You’re not of drinking age just yet.”

“But I can vote!” Jongho took the glass with coke Yunho kindly slid his way, popping his lips after he finished drinking. “Anyway, I don’t have to be an old man to know Wooyoung has the hots for you.”

See, this is why he said Wooyoung wasn’t the one keeping their deal undercover.

“Is that so?”

Instead of answering anymore, he took another sip of his margarita, thanking the cocktail gods and Yunho’s divine hands for the drink. He didn’t need much liquid courage often, but at times like this, there was nothing better to quiet down the noise than a glass of sweet, savory alcohol. He looked back for a second, releasing a small puff of air when he noticed the stage was empty once again. Seonghwa couldn’t handle Wooyoung’s staring much longer, after all.

“I think it’s kind of romantic, don’t you? The bad, playboy rockstar falls for the nice, focused student who’s best friends with his bandmate. Quite the narrative, no?”

Seonghwa didn’t have the heart to tell the bartender that no, the “bad, playboy rockstar” did not fall for the “nice, focused student”. If anything, it was the other way around, and even that was iffy around the edges. They were not in love, or at least he knew the rockstar didn’t see him as his undying partner for the rest of eternity. Wooyoung was just that, a man who knew he could have anyone he ever set his eyes on, and he acted on it. Seonghwa was simply another naive deer that fantasized about waking up together the next morning, nothing more.

“I don’t know about romantic, but San said Wooyoung humiliated this one guy who insisted he wanted to ask Seonghwa out. I haven’t seen the guy around anymore, so I suppose he won’t be talking to you at all.”

“Drop it.”

He knew nothing about this altercation, but he doubted it was out of Wooyoung’s feelings for him. During their few and far between wholesome interactions, the guitarist warned him about sleeping with other people, pointing out he wasn’t interested in sharing with anyone else while he had him. He wasn’t planning on sleeping around prior to his words, but the kind notice only served to prove his point further. Wooyoung thrived on having what others couldn’t, their relationship being as exclusive as you could get without putting any labels on it.

Out of nowhere, the lights inside the club dimmed to almost nonexistent, signifying the grand opening of Cherry Coke Cigs.

“Intergalactic Paradise is starting,” Jongho laughed, turning around and resting his arms on the counter as he laid back.

“They’re Cherry Coke Cigs now,” Yunho corrected the younger one with a chuckle.

Seonghwa only shook his head with a faint smile, his eyes too focused on the stage to react in any other way. Despite their lack of funds and good band names, their performances were always breathtaking. Each and every single one of them was beautiful, their skins always shiny with sweat and the miscellaneous glitter they somehow managed to get on their bodies all the time. By far, the most ethereal to look at was Yeosang, the fairy-like man sporting neon green hair on a small, low ponytail. The most intriguing, however, was San, ash blonde hair styled like a delinquent and an eye-catching piercing on his slit, left blonde eyebrow. But the true cherry on top was Wooyoung, the one guy all girls cheered for regardless—or because—of his bad boy persona. Hongjoong and Mingi were not left behind in the slightest, either, making them quite the visual rock band.

The first one to step on the stage was Mingi Song, choppy black and blonde hair with temporal blue highlights sticking wildly in every direction. His eyes were covered by gray sunglasses, and his tall, muscular body was barely covered by a black tank top and black, oversized ripped jeans. He also had black fingerless gloves on his hands, heavy boots, and a shitload of silver jewelry hanging from every possible place. Everyone cheered as if their lives depended on it, and against his better judgment, Seonghwa did, too. Mingi was the type of man you couldn’t help but sigh about, perfect in every sense of the word. Handsome, nice, cheerful—everything you could ever want in a man and more. The fact that he was a god at the drums was just a miniscule detail to add to his long list of perfection.

He waved with a big, goofy smile, playing around with the drumsticks on his hands before sitting down in front of his designated instrument.

After him came Hongjoong, the dear, old screams of fans cheering for the band’s leader taking a smile from Seonghwa. He was dressed as extravagantly as always; a white tank top with a weird design, black jeans that were kind of washed out already, a few belts hanging from his hips and waist like Christmas lights, a black leather jacket, and the most obnoxious brown cowboy boots Seonghwa had seen in a while. He also wore some silver necklaces and rings, and fake tattoos littered his chest like a mantra. The top of his head was the most normal part of his appearance today, with light brown hair sticking out and some red temporal dye on some of the highlights. He bowed to the audience comically, searching with his big eyes for the one person he hoped to see today, which, unfortunately, was him. His best friend threw him a grin before sitting down behind his keyboard, his smiley face instantly changing into serious and rather demonic to the eye. That was Hongjoong for you.

Then, it was Yeosang’s turn, and the screams of men were much more prevalent than those of women. He was dressed in an oversized black tank top that almost had his pecs showing and black leather pants. His boots were normal-looking, and his hands were protected by fingerless leather gloves. On his left arm he had a piece of leather around his bicep, and his hair was simply pulled back in his characteristic neon green ponytail. It was rather messy, though, so the most probable case was that he was either fighting with one of them backstage, or someone decided it would be fun to mess with the green-haired guitarist. Seonghwa guessed it was the latter. Unlike the last two, he didn’t smile or bow obnoxiously, but he did waved to the public and grabbed his rhythm guitar that was against one of the speakers.

To his misery, he already knew exactly who followed.

Wooyoung came out of the backstage, a guitar pick in between his teeth and his electric guitar in his hands. People screamed loudly, and Jongho elbowed him so indiscreetly Yunho laughed from behind. He tried to look away, really, but Wooyoung was too much of a force not to stare at. He wasn’t exactly unique compared to the others in terms of outfit—the black tank top he saw before that now he thought perhaps it was too small on him, his perfect dark jeans, the gray jacket now falling down one of his shoulders, and black platform boots—but he made an impact alright. His neck was decorated by a single silver necklace, one he noticed carried a small, simple ring in it he recognized all too well, and his ears had a few small hoops and piercings to add. Also, in his right hand there was a black hair tie, probably for his own convenience when his hair bothered him later on. As he said before, his hair was dyed black, but it was rather long now, falling down the sides of his face and tickling his nape on the back. Seonghwa personally knew a few people in this club that would die to pull that thick hair while he ate them out—not including himself, thank you very much.

If Wooyoung winked his way, he certainly acted as if he didn’t notice.

At last, it was the main attraction’s turn, San Choi. What it was about him that lured people in was a mystery, but Seonghwa had a theory it was the eyes. He looked like a true rockstar with his pale blonde hair and leather attire, but the sparkling piercing on his left eyebrow was too tempting not to look at twice. San was the type of guy you couldn’t forget after one night, they all were. He was the lead singer and the face of the band for something, stepping to his position in the middle with his bass in hand. One smirk of his was enough to dethrone the prettiest of men, and he knew it, much to the public’s dismay. He and Wooyoung were the biggest issues in the band, considering they acted like they owned the world. They kind of did, he couldn’t lie, but sometimes he wished hot people stayed oblivious to the fact that they were hot. For once, he knew Wooyoung would be much cuter.

“How are you tonight?”

The public’s reaction was instantaneous, everyone screaming and dying in response to San’s question. His voice was rather melodious, but when he sang, he growled right in front of the mic as if he wanted to eat you whole. The on-and-off differences between them frequently gave Seonghwa whiplash for this reason.

“Today we have a special treat for you all, so stay until the end with us,” San smiled with his eyes, licking his lips before speaking again. “Also, I would like to shout out the club’s owner, Yunho, who’s behind the bar right there.”

Everyone looked their way, the lights falling right on top of Yunho’s head and subsequently on Jongho’s and his own. Seonghwa felt like dying on the spot. Yunho, on the other hand, only smiled warmly and raised Seonghwa’s margarita, which made him cringe more than he wanted to let on. Jongho puffed out his cheeks and scratched the back of his neck, subtly glancing at Seonghwa with as much awkwardness as he felt. This had to be a joke.

“Oh, would you look at that. Shoutout to my little cousin and Hongjoong’s best friend right there too, don’t hesitate to say hi,” the lead singer laughed, glancing at Wooyoung with a glint of something in his eyes. “Or maybe not, you wouldn’t want to get in trouble with Woo boy here.”

“Why don’t you shut up and we start singing?” Wooyoung rasped out, and everyone cheered in response.

What the fuck.

The music started right away, and the band started playing and singing as usual. Seonghwa, however, had half the mind to focus on whatever lascivious lyrics they were uttering now. Jongho was shocked to his core, laughing to himself every time he caught Seonghwa’s expression. See, ignoring the problem was easier than facing it head-on, so he watched the performance as he was supposed to. They all shone differently under the stage’s light, their passionate faces and beautiful voices merging together to create an image only seen in movies. He couldn't help but zero in on Wooyoung’s hands, his slim fingers drastically changing positions as he played the guitar. Seonghwa was used to seeing Hongjoong play instruments before, but he never found him attractive while doing so. But Wooyoung? Perhaps it was just the hands, but there was something immensely different about it. It made his lower stomach churn with anticipation.

These nights didn’t always end with a pleasurable high, he would already be dead by now if that were the case, but he had to admit some part of him always hoped they did. Wooyoung wasn’t a nice guy—not even decent at times—but he was good at making you feel special. He carried so much care in everything he did, his hands caressing every piece of skin with delicate touches and his heart on his sleeve. It was such a beautiful sight to see those dark eyes blown out of proportion for the simple high of pleasing his partner. When everything was said and done, Seonghwa could bitch and whine about the absurdity of his conundrum all he wanted, but he liked being Wooyoung’s, even if the guy never saw him as more than a piece of ass with a pretty face.

Even now, despite knowing it was San who was singing, he couldn’t help but only look at Wooyoung. They were all pleasing to the eye, but for him, the lead guitarist was the most beautiful of them all. Seonghwa knew he wasn’t the only one with special preferences amongst them, at least, as Jongho always looked at Yeosang twice despite denying it twice as much, while Yunho frequently gravitated towards Mingi. The club owner and the drummer had history together, from what he could recall, so he never teased him much about it, not when he knew damn well he was the only one sneaking around to sleep with one of the band.

“They’re better than usual tonight,” Jongho hummed, pleased. “See, even San is not out of tune, and that says a lot.”

Seonghwa laughed, nodding along. Cherry Coke Cigs were good at what they did, but there were some instances where they had their little moments. San’s voice was amazing, but he sometimes sang out of tune. Mingi gave it his all at the drums, and when it was his turn to sing something, he often forgot the lyrics and improvised. Yeosang made little to no mistakes, but some days he missed the timing of the song and went ahead of the others. Hongjoong was too meticulous to do anything wrong, but whenever there was the slightest mistake, he took it upon himself, even if it was not his fault at all. Then, there was Wooyoung, who sometimes got too caught up in his own world and ended up making a solo show, basically.

All these little things compromised the band, making them quite the unique bunch.

“Yunho, isn’t this too strong?” Seonghwa frowned once he downed the whole margarita, grimacing right after. “I thought I told you I have a presentation tomorrow.”

Yunho shook his head, “One shouldn’t inhibit your senses, Seonghwa.”

“He’s drunk on Wooyoung’s sex appeal.”

“God,” Seonghwa shoved Jongho’s arm away. “Let it go.”

Jongho, in fact, did not let it go. The band finished up their first song with a bang, and the younger was still teasing him with a grin on his face. Seonghwa would love to annoy him back, but if he knew something about dealing with Jongho, it was that if you bothered him too, things would only escalate. He wasn’t eager to test his own personal patience.

“This next song was written by our leader,” San rasped out in front of the mic, slightly out of breath. “He claims it was written after watching a sad rom-com high school movie, I say it’s actually based on his own unresolved feelings for his best friend. This is for all of you who gave up on your first love before even trying!”

The second song started slow, Hongjoong’s keyboard blending together in a soft tune with Mingi’s drums. The crowd swung side to side, cheering when San’s bass cut in to merge with the already playing melody. The lyrics had not started yet, but Yeosang’s rhythm guitar slowly incorporated itself into the song, finally making it sound like a complete beat. Then, everything seized, and Wooyoung’s electric guitar shined through in a show of bending fingers and sharp chords, kickstarting the lyrics with his loud voice. Wow. He hadn’t heard this one before. Seonghwa focused on the lyrics, chuckling to himself whenever it was Hongjoong’s turn to harmonize or sing his part. Somehow, he could see where San was coming from when he uttered such careless words.

This song wasn’t dirty in nature—on the contrary, actually. It painted deep feelings and hidden secrets, the type of emotions you kept under lock and key despite not understanding them all too well yourself. Truthfully, it mirrored his longtime friendship with the band’s leader perfectly. Once, perhaps, there had been a serious attraction between the two, something so strongly mutual they never noticed for fear of losing what they already had, but now all of it was long gone. Hearing this song only made Seonghwa smile wider. Anyone else would either feel creeped out or cry at the thought of the lost chance, but Seonghwa saw it as a token of their friendship, proof of what their relationship used to be and what it was now. Curse Hongjoong for being such a good songwriter.

“You know, now that we’re hearing this, I’ve always wondered,” Jongho said, moving his head to the rhythm of the music. “Did you two ever try? Hongjoong and you, I mean.”

He nodded, “We did. The first time we tried something was after getting shit-faced drunk at our graduation party. The morning after was hilarious. The second time was in a controlled space with clear heads. Again, the morning after was one of the ones I’ve had the most fun in. We decided it was too late to work as nothing else but best friends.”

“Are there still feelings involved?”

Seonghwa glanced back at Yunho and said, “Only the usual platonicity between friends.”

The conversation died there as the band prepared to bring this one performance to an end, Wooyoung’s electric solo portraying the last few lines of the song. Seonghwa could only stare at the rockstar, wondering what went through his head as his fingers achieved the impossible with the guitar. Was he horny? Or did he considered these gigs as any other job? He couldn’t help but be curious about Wooyoung, even if he knew it wasn’t his brightest idea. Seonghwa was a college student with too many deadlines, someone like Wooyoung Jung served as a means of recreation, of sorts.

The next song went by in a flash, Yunho preparing another margarita for him. Yes, he complained about drinking before, but the night was still young, and these guys usually sang around six or eight songs before calling it a day. When the third song was over, they took a break, going backstage to refresh for a few minutes. Unsurprisingly enough, Seonghwa felt an arm snake around his waist soon after, the scent of mint chewing gum invading his space from behind. For someone who hated mint chocolate, Hongjoong certainly abused other mint-flavored items quite frequently.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he echoed, leaning his head back on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Want some?”

Hongjoong eyed his margarita for a second, considering his offer with a hopeful shine in his dark eyes. At the end, he shook his head and bumped his forehead with Seonghwa’s, kissing it right after making a face of disgust. If there was something Hongjoong loved to be, it was dramatic. He was the one who initiated the physical contact here, but whenever Seonghwa reciprocated his advances, he acted as if he was disgusted by it, even if he loved it more than the other. It had been this way ever since they met as young teenagers.

“I’m going up again, it’s not a good idea,” Hongjoong slid his other arm around Seonghwa’s waist, trapping him in between his strong arms. To any bystanders, they were that annoyingly sweet, clingy couple always on top of each other. “Oh, by the way, I’m not going home tonight. I’m crashing at Yeosang’s place. We have a group project.”

“That’s alright,” he murmured.

“Of course it is, I don’t think he’s going home either,” Jongho whistled innocently, as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Hm? You have somewhere to be, Hwa?”

“No, he’s messing with you,” Seonghwa glared at the youngest. “I have to sleep early tonight. Also a group presentation.”

Hongjoong smiled and kissed his cheek before detangling himself, “I figured. See you later, then. Duty calls.”

The band’s leader walked away after throwing a childish wink in Jongho’s direction and a quick wave in Yunho’s. Some were watching them with curious eyes, wondering if they really were best friends, as they claimed. Well, truthfully, if he were in their shoes, he would wonder the same thing. But, even now, he had to agree they painted a nice picture together. Hongjoong was shorter than he was, but he was also manlier. Seonghwa’s features tiptoed the line between delicate and sharp, giving him a feminine look with the grace of masculinity. Hongjoong, on the other hand, looked petite and had a boyish appearance, but he had his moments. There were some instances when that bright smile turned into a seductive grin, and those pretty dark eyes stared at people from underneath his long eyelashes…

Anyhow, Hongjoong was one of the most attractive boys he had ever met. When placed side by side, the fact that they looked balanced together was undeniable, so really, he couldn’t blame anyone who thought they were dating. But, unfortunately, his best friend wasn’t the one he liked anymore.

“Would you look at that. The great Wooyoung Jung is pleasing his fans the way only he knows.”

Seonghwa’s eyes zeroed on the crowd. It didn’t take long to see a group of girls circling a single man, black hair tied in a small ponytail and a flashing smile dazzling everyone. Wooyoung was supposed to be backstage, not there, in the middle of the club, with girls clinging to his arms. He looked content surrounded by his fans, his eyes lazy as he scanned the crowd with mild interest. Nonetheless, Seonghwa knew the rockstar was already aware of his incessant gaze, if the subtle glances thrown his way in between smiling at fans were anything to go by. He decided the trouble was more than it was worth, so he turned around, facing Yunho for the nth time tonight. Despite his lack of shame, Wooyoung had his moments of decency, he surely wouldn’t approach him in front of everyone, or at least he hoped. 

Too much attention for one night already.

But, even after his prayers, there was no need to look back to know Wooyoung was headed his way. The crowd didn’t follow him, but the sighs certainly did. When he stood behind him, Wooyoung ignored him, focusing his attention on a grumbling Jongho slapping away his sticky hands. The rockstar laughed obnoxiously, cooing at the younger boy the way clingy mothers did when their child was being difficult. Look, Seonghwa loved Jongho, but if his misery was what it took to stop his own, then so be it. He took quiet breaths as if to not alert the man of his presence, sipping his second margarita as swiftly as possible. Jongho, however, only glared at him furiously.

Seonghwa almost laughed, but stopped himself when he felt a warmth creep behind his back. It was gradual, as if someone was slowly leaning on top of him the way predators lurked around their prey. Then, two palms rested on the counter, tanned arms littered with miscellaneous tattoos and protruding veins caging him between the bar and a hot body. Wooyoung smelled of sweat and his usual perfume, a combination of spice, musk, and sweetness enveloping Seonghwa’s senses. The rockstar didn’t utter a single word in his direction, looking at Yunho instead. This was a game for him, one Seonghwa was bound to lose eventually.

“Give me a shot of tequila, I need it. Fast.”

Yunho maneuvered his way around the bar, setting a clean shot glass in front of Seonghwa. Ideally, Wooyoung would be in his own space, but he wasn’t, meaning that to the naked eye, Seonghwa was the alcoholic freak mixing margaritas full of tequila with even more like a madman. When the glass was full to the brim, Wooyoung took it in between his fingers and drank it in one go, giving Yunho the empty glass back. Seonghwa expected that to be the end of it, but Wooyoung blew on his ear, nibbling the top with a grin. One of his hands intertwined his fingers with Seonghwa’s, tracing soft lines in his palm.

“You’re playing dirty, pup,” Wooyoung whispered, tutting disapprovingly. “Don’t complain later.”

Before he could respond, Wooyoung was already on his way, not even glancing back to acknowledge the effects of his own actions. His ear still tingled with the feeling of Wooyoung’s breath, and his back yearned for that warmth to drown him again. This was exactly why he preferred for them to not see each other at all. It was easy to pretend he felt nothing for the rockstar in front of others, but when faced with the real thing? Hah. Wooyoung wasn’t someone easily ignored, after all.

Funnily enough, neither was he. They could toss and tussle all they wanted, but at the end, they couldn’t keep their paws to themselves. Take now, as an example, how Wooyoung caged him without saying a word—the primal necessity of owning taking over his more rational senses. It sounded like something straight out of a steamy novel, but to him, it was reality.

“He’s disgusting,” Jongho grimaced.

“He just likes you,” the bartender chuckled. “And likes Seonghwa even more.”

“I would hate to be you.”

Seonghwa sighed. At this point there was nothing he could do anymore. It was better to drink and feign ignorance for as long as he was able to. See, even when the band settled on stage again and began playing their original songs and a few covers, he only bobbed his head to the rhythm and forgot all about Wooyoung, Hongjoong, and anyone that harmed his inner peace. These nights were supposed to be therapeutic sessions for himself, a moment to cool down, drink, and relax to the music. He wasn’t supposed to stress about men and how volatile they could be, those were thoughts for his day-self.

Well, he had to admit it was entirely his fault he was in this position in the first place. Hongjoong invited him every show night for support and for giving him an out, but he was the one who went ahead and kneeled for one of his bandmates like a dumbass. No one forced him to be in such a vulnerable state—unless Wooyoung had some type of supernatural ability to attract others, which, objectively, wasn’t that impossible. This was a mess of his own making, sprinkled slightly by circumstances, ideals, and too much alcohol. Complaining now was beyond futile.

Resigning himself, he chatted with Yunho and Jongho, until the younger one stood up and waved, saying he had to get home before his parents started threatening to lock him out again . Hah, teenagers. Fortunately, Yunho was a great companion, listening attentively to his own anecdotes and stupid facts no one cared about college life. In return, Seonghwa offered his humble grains of salt when the bartender asked for his opinions on various topics. It was nice having this once in a while, even if it was under heavy flashing lights, deafening music, and piercing screams.

Cherry Coke Cigs were approaching their ending as they announced the last song, gaining lighthearted boos. Seonghwa reckoned the crowd deemed the end of their performance as quite the tragedy, as those handsome faces and killer bodies would go back to hiding. Considering the way people reacted to attractive appearances, it was safe to conclude there was a lack of material in that department, so really, Seonghwa understood perfectly the appeal of spending an entire night watching men like that sweat and growl into a microphone. If he didn’t know them personally, he too would go home wondering why he couldn’t have them as his classmates or neighbors, it was only natural.

They shone so brightly on that stage, the way stars did when cities lost their electrical power and the moonlight lit up the sky. Seonghwa wasn’t a fan or anything, but he got it. There was something so beautiful about imagining one of them playing you the same way they played their little instruments. Really, it was awful, whatever power they had over the crowd, but it was an undeniable fact. Seonghwa too was victim to such mental images, even if his were not so mental after all. Whether he achieved others’ fantasies or not was irrelevant to the topic at hand.

“Do you not want another one?”

He blinked sluggishly, not tipsy enough but tired already, “No, I’ll just wait for them to finish and leave.”

“Leave leave or leave?” Yunho wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Leave leave,” Seonghwa giggled. “It takes two to tango, they say.”

“You already know one is already dancing his life away, you’re the only one missing!”

“Not funny,” he murmured, pushing his empty glass for Yunho to take away.

Yunho hummed, “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? There’s no hiding it.”

“There’s no hiding you and Mingi either, and I don’t see anyone pointing it out.”

“Hah, it’s not quite the same, Seonghwa. You’re adamant about keeping it a secret, I’m open about my affections,” the bartender looked at the stage, smiling fondly when Mingi improvised his lyrics once again. “Being a little more honest with yourself is not a bad idea. You might be surprised at what you could get in return.”

He scoffed, “A broken heart?”

“Mhm, far from it, actually. As I said, you might be surprised.”

As he said that, Yunho gave him his back, picking up the few empty glasses on the counter and serving the other customers equally. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Seonghwa knew what he had, who he was fucking around with, in what world would he end up with nothing but a broken heart if he was true to himself? Yunho surely had his best interests in mind, but alas, he was mistaken. He had seen terrible endings at the hands of people like Wooyoung, though there was no one quite like him. However, it was the same difference. Hoping for anything but pain after falling for someone like Wooyoung was plain stupid.

Oh my, he had turned into those complaining, indecisive idiots he had seen in dramas and books before. Seonghwa always whined about protagonists with peas for brains and olives for eyes, but he was acting just like them now. His options were limited to two paths: cutting off whatever they had going on and moving on with his life, or acknowledging the consequences of his own actions and accepting that, yes, he had feelings for Wooyoung Jung. Simple. It was one or the other if he wanted to put an end to his inner turmoil, and by the looks of it, he didn’t have much time to decide anymore.

Wooyoung stole his breath away with one look. His touch burned his skin more than fire could ever, and those eyes of his, a brown so deep they seemed black to the untrained eye, had to be illegal in more countries than one. It was upsetting how much his lazy smirks and subtle grins spurred him on, and that’s without taking note of his pretty moles he insisted on calling dots. Funny, wasn’t it? How a seemingly threatening man called his moles “dots”. I mean, his body was littered with tattoos, some big, some small, but tattoos nonetheless, and he was still so damn cute.

Seonghwa was so far gone already it was only a matter of time before he crumbled. What would be Wooyoung’s reaction then? Would he reciprocate his feelings? Or would he shrug and leave him to deal with his own emotions? So many endless possibilities, and he still couldn’t trust him. The only one Seonghwa trusted with his heart was himself. Giving it away was a death sentence on so many levels, yet the idea of getting crushed by Wooyoung wasn’t so ugly after all.

“And that marks the end of our show for tonight, how did you like it?” the crowd cheered, hyping San up. “Oh, how delightful! Well, as you guys are so happy with our performance, we thought it was about time to give you something in return for your support.”

“Do you know what it is?” Yunho whispered in his direction, cocking his head.

Seonghwa shook his head, but kept his back to the stage and laid his head on his own arms on top of the counter. He couldn’t wait for them to be over and go home. All this thinking was clearly messing with his head, and the alcohol acting like a toxin inside his blood didn’t help much.

“Alright. When you entered the club, the bouncer wrote a number on your inner wrist. Do you remember?” Hongjoong was the one who spoke now, raising his arm and moving his wrist around. “We’ll take one number out of a ballot, whoever has it written down will have the opportunity to come up here and ask for one thing from any of us. How does that sound?”

At that moment, the screams took a whole other level, bouncing off the thick walls of the club. Seonghwa frowned, staring down at his own wrist. Twenty-six. What a coincidental number. Yunho appeared to think the same thing he did, going as far as to point at Wooyoung with a shit-eating grin on his face. This had to be a joke. Well, whatever, as long as it didn’t land on his number, it would be fine. The one thing he would ask for was for Hongjoong to stop forcing him to come all the time, which would be quite boring for the crowd. Seonghwa was not eager to be booed like that.

“Let’s give it a try, then. Yeosang, if you could…”

Hongjoong stood up from in front of his keyboard and went backstage, bringing a sealed box with a small opening with him. Yeosang put his guitar down and stood next to Hongjoong, turning his head away as his hand shuffled the inside of the box. The expectation was high on the air, but Seonghwa still refused to show any interest. If he did, perhaps karma would punish him and give him the spotlight. After a few shuffles, he took out his hand in one swift motion, a small folded paper in between his fingers. Hongjoong set the box down and borrowed Wooyoung’s microphone, making those idiotic sounds movies usually used when something big was about to be revealed.

“Twenty…” fuck, fuck, fuck. “…Nine!”

The crowd went silent for a while, only murmurs and soft curses being thrown left and right. Yunho clicked his tongue in front of him, disappointed with the outcome. Seonghwa, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief, silently laughing to himself in triumph.

“So, who has number twenty-nine on their wrist?” Mingi asked, excited.

“I do!” a girl squealed, raising her arm for everyone to see. This time Seonghwa did turn, surprised to notice the girl was just a couple of chairs away from him on the bar. Huh.

She was beautiful, black hair in endless waves falling to her waist and honey-colored eyes big enough to look like a deer. She had matte red lipstick on and subtle eyeshadow, a single mole on the center of her right cheek garnering all attention from her other features. She looked Latin, if he judged her physical appearance, probably coming from the Caribbean due to her sun-kissed skin, but he was reaching here. In any case, she stood up from her seat, her high heels clicking as she made her way to the stage. She had a black dress with a deep V-neck and lace gloves that reached her upper arm, giving her a sophisticated and expensive look. When she reached the stage, the crowd cheered once more, and she smiled brightly. How endearing.

“What’s your name?” San took Mingi’s mic away from him and gave it to the girl.

“Nilah,” she said, blinking owlishly. “I’m a huge fan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nilah,” the lead singer took her free hand on his own and brought it to his lips, kissing the delicate, covered hand. “So, what’s your wish for tonight?”

She pondered for a second, looking at each of them with wonder in her eyes. She stopped when her honey-colored eyes landed on Wooyoung, subtly biting her bottom lip. It was for a brief instance, but everyone caught the moment, a few oohs and ahhs filling the club. He had an inkling of where this one was going.

“Uhm, if it’s not a problem, could I get one kiss?” she asked politely.

“From who?” Hongjoong grinned.

“Wooyoung,” she said, looking at the crowd with a bashful smile. “Sorry guys!”

Seonghwa’s blood ran cold. He was expecting it, but hearing it was entirely different. It was only one kiss, but who in their right mind enjoyed watching the person they liked kissing someone else?

“You heard that, Woo? Our fan wants you to kiss her,” Yeosang slapped San’s hand away as he tried to take back his mic. “Will you do it?”

Wooyoung set his lips into a thin line before speaking, clearing his throat when Hongjoong gave him the mic, “Sorry, but I’m taken,” he glanced in Seonghwa’s direction for a quick second, but smiled warmly when he looked back at his fan. “Is there anything else I could do for you instead?”

“Oh, sorry, yes! Would a hug be alright, then?” she suggested, apologetically shrugging her naked shoulders.

Wooyoung walked towards her, opening his arms for her to take a step forward. She did, burrowing her face on his chest for a few seconds before pulling back, smiling just as brightly as she did when she won the “giveaway”. What the fuck. Seonghwa looked away instantly, hiding his face in between his arms once again. This just wouldn’t do. He felt his cheeks warm up, and his lips—his traitorous lips—curved upwards in a silly smile. Was the rockstar talking about him when he said he was taken? He had to be, right? He looked at him when he said it.

He felt his hair being ruffled by a big hand, as if taunting him to gather his strength and look back up, but he didn’t. Yunho could try all he wanted, but for now he needed some time to think things through. The girl, Nilah, was beyond stunning—the type of woman men would drool and foam for like rabid dogs—but Wooyoung refused. He declined her proposal and looked at him, even if it was for a brief moment. All his previous doubts seemed worthless yet so necessary now he had to do a double take and pinch himself if only to know that this wasn’t a dream.

“It’s over now,” Yunho said. “They already said their goodbyes and everything. Don’t you want to take a look?”

Seonghwa raised his head and looked back, watching the band pick up their several instruments and go back and forth from the stage to the back. When they were done, Wooyoung stayed behind to look at him and cocked his head to the side, challenging him to follow. He was an audacious prick, he had to give him that. It was now up to him whether he fell for the provocation or not, but his curiosity was gnawing at him. Seonghwa needed to know if Wooyoung’s words had any weight to them, or if everything was a ruse to simply shake the girl off.

“I’ll, uh, see you next time, Yunho,” he stood up from his seat and sneaked a hand inside of his bag, fishing out a bulk-wrapped caramel candy he took from one of his classmates earlier today. “Here, for keeping me company tonight.”

Yunho laughed and waved at him, sending him off as he turned around to head backstage. Despite not being such a popular club, Yunho valued security above all else, so there was a security guard in front of the small stairs leading to the stage. Seonghwa knew the guy far too well already, and so did he, so the man simply nodded at him politely and let him through. He followed the path of the hallway, passing through different doors that hid the band’s rooms. There were three in total, two big rooms and a smaller one in the middle. The one to the left belonged to Yeosang and San while the one on the right was Hongjoong’s and Mingi’s. Wooyoung had the middle one all to himself, something Hongjoong said before was a strategic compromise as he was the one who flirted the most out of all of them.

Seonghwa hesitated, considering to knock on Hongjoong’s door and stay with his friend, but he ultimately decided against it and kept going down the hallway, reaching a completely different door that led to the alley behind the club. He opened the door, a sudden chill making him shiver as the cold wind of fall greeted him face first. The alley, just like most of them, was dark and eerie, but the familiar silhouette of a particular rockstar stopped him from feeling any fear. He closed the door behind him as he walked towards Wooyoung, leaning against the alley’s wall, contrary to his biggest headache.

“What was that about?”

“Not even a ‘hello’, I see,” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, keeping his eyes closed as he leaned his head against the wall. “You’re losing your manners, pup.”

“Am I?” he echoed, his heart violently racing against his chest. “So, why did you refuse to kiss her?”

“It would piss me the fuck off if someone kissed you in front of me, so I didn’t do it in front of you either,” the rockstar opened his eyes, staring at him as if he knew something he didn’t. “I guessed it would piss you off even more.”

They stayed quiet after that. Seonghwa didn’t know what to say now that he knew why he did what he did. He wasn’t very happy with Wooyoung’s answer, but what else did he expect? For him to confess his undying love for him? Ha, big chance. Wooyoung seemed indifferent to his turmoil, lighting a cigarette and bringing it to his lips. Seonghwa had never liked smoking before, but ever since he started hanging out with Wooyoung, he had no choice but to refrain his complaints against it. Rockstars and cigarettes appeared to be a package deal regardless of the time and age.

“Can I try?” Seonghwa murmured.

Wooyoung blew smoke on his face, grinning when the other coughed. He silently gave Seonghwa the cigarette, waiting for him to do something with it. Seonghwa brought it to his lips and took a drag, the dry smoke burning his throat and forcing his lungs to contract. Every time he did this, he felt dirty and wrong, but Wooyoung’s cigarettes were just like him. Nicotine wasn’t the issue here, but the fact that he was smoking the same thing Wooyoung was. The thought made his heart flip like a little gymnastic freak.

“Look at you. At first, you used to choke on it, now it’s like you’ve been smoking for ages,” the rockstar slid his index finger down Seonghwa’s chin to his throat, resting the tip on the small dip of his collarbone, where his accelerating heartbeats could be felt. “You miss the choking, don’t you?”

Seonghwa let the cigarette fall from his fingers and stepped on it before answering Wooyoung’s question. Against his better judgment, he nodded, too entranced to notice the growing darkness in the man’s eyes. It was always like this between them.

“Words, pup. Use your words.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I miss the choking.”

That was all he needed to say for Wooyoung’s finger to hook itself onto the collar of his thick hoodie. He pulled him close to him and crashed their lips together, the jolt forcing him to open his mouth in surprise. He tasted of tequila and cigarettes, something he would find gross on anyone else but loved on this man. Wooyoung’s tongue was an invasive force, exploring everything so forcefully that he felt out of breath before he was supposed to. Then, Wooyoung wrapped his hand around his throat, squeezing hard. In between the kiss and the harsh choking he couldn’t breathe at all, his lungs begging for even a single bubble of air. He gasped and struggled against Wooyoung’s hold, but the rockstar refused to let him go. When he was on the verge of tapping out, he broke the kiss, allowing Seonghwa to breathe once again. The hand around his throat still kept him at bay, crushing his airways, but he tried his best to regain as much oxygen as the man in front of him wanted him to.

“This hoodie,” Wooyoung whispered against his lips. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”

It indeed was. The hoodie was big enough to fit two Seonghwas, making it look like an absolute joke on him. Wooyoung wasn’t taller than he was, but he was sturdier and broader. The hoodie’s light gray was one of his favorite colors despite how bland it sounded, and though he had no idea who the band plastered at the front in black and white was, he still grabbed the hoodie when Wooyoung wasn’t looking. It was in his dressing room, thrown over one of the chairs carelessly, he surely wouldn’t miss it.

“Yes.”

Wooyoung smirked, “How cute. Do you like me that much?”

“Huh?” Seonghwa’s eyes cleared up ever so slightly. “What?”

“You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself, love.”

“I don’t—It’s not like that,” he jumbled up his words, wanting to slap himself harder and harder the more the seconds passed. “I just—”

“No?” he asked. “You don’t like me?”

“No, I—Of course I like you.”

Seonghwa realized his mistake as soon as Wooyoung’s infuriating grin made its way back to his face again. Fuck, did he seriously confessed like that? No way. He could save himself by arguing he just said he liked him, not that he loved him, but what difference would it make? He already admitted his feelings regardless of how vague his words were, whatever he said now would have no impact anymore.

“I know, I’m not stupid. Anyone with eyes can see you drool for me, pup,” Wooyoung whistled, squeezing his throat even harder. “That’s what I like about you. You love me, but you don't demand anything from me. Instead, you walk around eggshells and try your best to hide your cute feelings for me.”

Seonghwa couldn’t breathe anymore. He grabbed Wooyoung’s arm, trying to get him to soften his hold, but the man ignored his efforts. He only smiled, watching him struggle with glee in his eyes. Such perversion made him sick to his stomach, but he liked it. He didn’t trust Wooyoung with his heart, but he trusted him with his body. The rockstar knew him better than he knew himself. He had all his weaknesses, pleasures, and limitations all mapped out like a sketch, and even if he passed out right here, he knew Wooyoung would be there when he woke up. He felt his eyes and face give in to the pressure on his throat, almost as if he could explode any minute. The two margaritas he drank earlier were bubbling in his stomach, threatening to come up. It was a horribly unpleasant feeling. His eyes watered, slowly turning red around the edges. At this rate, his brain would give in any minute now.

But it didn’t.

Wooyoung let go of his throat, soothingly rubbing the red prints of his fingers on the sun-kissed skin. He was almost gentle in his caresses, and Seonghwa’s heart saw this as proof of the rockstar’s affection for him. His legs were almost giving up on him, but he kept himself upright, if only to make Wooyoung proud. Tonight, the rockstar stood a few centimeters taller than him, his heavy platform boots giving him quite a considerable height. This way, Seonghwa felt like a bunny facing a fox. It never ended well for the prey, did it?

“I want to ruin you,” Wooyoung’s hand traveled from his throat to the back of his head, pulling his black strands back and bearing his neck for him. “Can I do that, pup? Can I completely own you until you can’t think of anyone but me inside of you?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”

Wooyoung took his consent with much more enthusiasm than he expected. Those soft, slightly chapped lips latched themselves onto his neck, biting and sucking all over the already red skin. He had half a mind to consider that they were in an alley, a place where anyone could see them all over each other like horny beasts. His mind was more preoccupied with want. The last time he saw Wooyoung’s cock could still be counted with his fingers, but that was already too long.

“Can’t have anyone seeing you like this,” Wooyoung murmured against his neck. “Let’s go.”

The rockstar accommodated Seonghwa’s hoodie for him and grabbed his hand, leading him back to the club. He opened the door and closed it when Seonghwa was inside too, dragging him through the hallway to his dressing room. They had been in this position many times before, but there was something beautiful about monotony. He could never get tired of navigating this same hallway and entering that strangely organized but cluttered dressing room Wooyoung called his own.

The dressing room was significantly smaller than the other two, but it was still relatively bigger than any other he had seen in movies before. The moment you entered you were greeted by an entire mirror covering the back wall. There were two tables, a longer one pressed to the wall to the left littered with makeup, brushes, and miscellaneous items. The other one was smaller and pressed to the right wall, this one holding multiple snacks and candies. In the far right corner, next to the snacks table and the mirror wall, there was a black clothes rack full of hangers with shirts, jackets, and hoodies, and on the floor there were pants and shoes. The most extravagant item, however, was a black, large sofa right next to the door. It was comfortable enough to sleep in, but Seonghwa had never used it for that purpose. There were also two chairs right next to the bigger table, meant to be used whenever he wanted to sit in front of either table.

“Let’s take it slow tonight,” Wooyoung shrugged off his gray jacket and threw it on top of the two chairs, comfortably sitting down on his fancy sofa. “Come here, pup.”

Seonghwa saw his own reflection on the mirror wall before placing his bag next to Wooyoung’s discarded jacket and settling down on the carpeted floor. He took off his white sneakers and set them underneath one of the chairs before kneeling in between Wooyoung’s parted legs. Again, this position was no stranger to him, but it was always welcomed. Looking up at Wooyoung was one of his greatest weaknesses, especially when his pupils were already so blown out of proportion out of lust alone. He waited patiently for his next set of orders, not daring to make a move before he was allowed to.

“So obedient,” the rockstar cooed, ruffling Seonghwa’s slightly wavy hair. “Take off my pants for me, yeah?”

He instantly got to work. Seonghwa first unbuttoned Wooyoung’s jeans and lowered his zipper. It wasn’t enough to see more than the black fabric of his boxers, but he could do something with that. He licked the fabric from where it peaked from behind the jeans to the top, biting the elastic to pull it down. His hands were still on Wooyoung’s thighs, just the way the rockstar liked it. With one swift motion, the heavy cock sprang out of its restraints, not hard enough to be full, but visibly aroused already. It hit Seonghwa’s nose as it did so, making Wooyoung chuckle with delight. The experience was supposed to be hands-free, so he brought his arms back down and crossed them behind his back. For now, he wouldn’t need any restraints. Perhaps later.

“You’re desperate, huh? Wanna give it a little kiss?”

Seonghwa complied, kissing the angry red tip with nothing but clear devotion. His lips parted ever so slightly, engulfing only the tip with his warm mouth. He sucked the way one would a lollipop, grinning with Wooyoung’s hiss. His cock seemed to like the attention, standing up a little straighter. Seonghwa released the tip and licked his way down, mapping out that one vein sticking out proudly. Objectively, Wooyoung’s cock was pretty. Subjectively, it was the best one Seonghwa had ever seen or tried before. The tip was the same color as his nipples, a warm, dark red appetizing enough to entice even the holiest of soldiers. Seonghwa, regretfully, was one of the many who had already fallen for such beauty.

“You’re teasing today. Alright,” Wooyoung smiled mischievously, his hand still stroking Seonghwa’s head. “I told you before, didn’t I? Playing dirty only gets you so far, don’t complain later.”

It was a warning, he knew, but Wooyoung’s teasing always ended up ruining him to his core. Why would he stop testing his patience when the consequences were exactly what he was hoping for? This exchange here was all about weighing options, and his were already pretty much weighed. Teasing guaranteed him results, so he would continue doing so until Wooyoung snapped entirely.

Worshiping Wooyoung’s cock came naturally to him at this point, anyway. It was beautiful, not long enough to be called lanky or wide enough to be fat. It was the perfect size to suck, but that didn’t mask the fact that it was stupidly big for such a cute guy like him. Seonghwa smiled against the shaft, lolling his tongue from top to bottom. This, apparently, was what made Wooyoung’s delicate strings snap once and for all. The tattooed hand on his head tightened its grip, forcing him to take the pulsing cock in his mouth. It stretched his throat deliciously, making him choke and gag as if it were his first time taking it.

Wooyoung stayed still until he stopped spluttering. He breathed from his nose, inhaling nothing but Wooyoung’s manly scent. Fuck. Seonghwa’s eyes watered with tears, but he mewled pathetically when Wooyoung started moving his head as he pleased. His throat felt so full. Nothing quite compared to the feeling of choking on the cock of the guy you liked, but hey, he was already far too gone to understand left from right. The only thing he could smell and see was Wooyoung. He looked up, gazing at Wooyoung from underneath his wet eyelashes. Oh my.

If he looked lustful before, now even the devil himself paled in comparison. His lips were slightly parted and bitten red, and his eyes—oh God, his eyes—narrowed like a fox stalking his prey. Wooyoung was so damn beautiful. Really, Seonghwa didn’t mind the burn of his throat or how he could barely breathe for the nth time tonight. Wooyoung’s cock hit the deepest part of his mouth, crowding his throat uncomfortably, but it truly wasn’t that awful, not when it pleased the rockstar so much. Seonghwa felt like a ragged doll, his scalp tingling from the hands gripping his hair tightly and his jaw already numb to the other’s movements. It was still worth it, though.

“Ah, roll your tongue, pup.”

He did as he was told, mapping out the cock inside of his mouth with his tongue. He couldn’t taste anything else but pre-cum, until he felt Wooyoung twitch. The stars behind his eyes seemed to shine even brighter when he was harshly pulled away from the sensitive cock. Seonghwa looked at his handiwork with big, shiny eyes. The angry red head was almost leaking, and Wooyoung stroked it lazily before he spilled all over Seonghwa’s face. Some of it fell on his lips, and he licked them, grinning at the taste. It wasn’t good, not really, but there was something so naturally primal about it.

“Come here,” Wooyoung said, tucking himself inside of his boxers and opened pants and pulling Seonghwa up, sitting him in between his legs. “Look how pretty you look.”

Seonghwa looked at himself in the mirror, translucent white globs of cum coating part of his face. Luckily, none of it fell on his hair, but his eyelashes weren’t as fortunate. It was like a scene straight out of porn, but he figured Wooyoung himself was more like the protagonist of a wet dream than a real, breathing person. His eyes fell at the sight of Wooyoung’s tattooed arms surrounding his thin waist, almost like an obsessive lover claiming what was his. It was so damn lovely.

His trance didn’t last long, though. Wooyoung maneuvered Seonghwa’s body and set him aside, taking off his shirt right after. He stood up and gave it to him, signaling his mess. Seonghwa took the hint and cleaned his cum-stained face with the tank top, watching curiously as the rockstar opened one of the drawers of the messy table full of several trinkets. Wooyoung smiled when he found what he was looking for, holding up a bottle of strawberry-scented lube and condoms. How romantic, wasn’t he? He had always known how to flip the mood effortlessly.

“Ever since I met you, I knew strawberries were your thing,” Wooyoung hummed. “Take off your pants, sweetheart. Ass up.”

“Are you prepping me?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “Who else if not?”

“I could do it myself,” he suggested, almost whispering. “You take too long.”

“That’s precisely why I’m doing it,” Wooyoung grinned. “Playing dirty only gets you so far. Now it’s my turn.”

Oh.

Oh.

Seonghwa took off his pants and underwear in a hurry and got on his knees on the sofa. He opened his thighs slightly and raised his hips, allowing his ass to stand up and his back to arch. He used Wooyoung’s tank top as a pillow for his arms and head, setting the dirty side opposite to himself. He felt the sofa dip as Wooyoung sat down, but there were no impatient hands or too strong fingers touching him anywhere just yet. His hoodie—or Wooyoung’s—slowly slid up his back, revealing his spine and the curve of his lower back involuntarily. Seonghwa couldn’t contain his excitement, wiggling his ass if only to tempt the other to do something. He heard Wooyoung laugh behind him before placing his big hands on both of his cheeks, spreading his ass with no shame.

The cold air of the dressing room hit his hole, and he clenched, gaining a mocking whistle from the rockstar.

“What a sight,” he felt hot breath on his exposed body, and fuck did it feel good. “Would be a waste not to taste it.”

“What are you—”

Seonghwa couldn’t finish his sentence. Wooyoung’s soft, intrusive tongue lapped at his hole, massaging the pink bundle of muscles earnestly. He panted, tightening his hold around the black tank top that smelled too much of the rockstar. Eating out men wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was definitely Wooyoung’s. His tongue shallowly penetrated his hole like it was the real deal, sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body. It felt good, too good, but he needed more. Seonghwa wanted his orgasm to stop time, for his brain to go so high it hurt when he fell back down. He knew Wooyoung could do it.

He could cum out of this alone, sure, but only if Wooyoung so wanted him to. The strong hands pulling his cheeks apart gripped them harder, and he choked on a breath, whining louder and louder with every weak thrust of that wretched tongue. Seonghwa briefly considered the fact that, maybe, these walls weren’t as soundproof as he thought, but no one had ever complained until now, right? At least not to him. If Wooyoung was roasted with marshmallows and hot chocolate by his bandmates every time he left, then that was his issue alone. Seonghwa had always been an advocate for privacy, but the other man enjoyed the danger of being found out with his cock deep inside of him, so what could he do? There was no way of stopping Wooyoung when he set his mind on something, after all.

“Woo, come on,” he sighed in quick breaths.

The other didn’t answer, his mouth too preoccupied elsewhere to speak. Seonghwa felt the familiar tightening of his lower stomach, but that wasn’t quite enough to tip him over the edge. He considered sneaking his own hand to touch his dick, but decided against it when Wooyoung’s grip became bruisingly tighter. Who knew how that would make him flip out. Impatient, he tried to grind Wooyoung’s face, but it didn’t work out in his favor. On the contrary, actually, as Wooyoung smiled against his skin. The rockstar was laughing at him, enjoying every single second of his desperation. Seonghwa still didn’t know how he was “playing dirty” before, but he had to abide by Wooyoung’s rules. If he thought he was, then he was right. Behind closed doors Wooyoung knew better. He always did.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth when Wooyoung gave his hole a little open-mouth kiss, catching himself twitching. He wasn’t one to cum untouched, but Wooyoung knew way too many tricks. His dick, at the very least, seemed interested enough to finally cave in. Seonghwa prepared himself for an orgasm, keeping his moans and whines as low as possible. The thin string keeping his ultimate pleasure at bay shattered piece by piece, until it snapped completely. He gasped, frowning when he couldn’t feel his release. Wooyoung’s tongue was no longer fucking him, and his hand had traveled from his ass cheeks to his hips, keeping him steady. 

Fuck. Was this his punishment?

“Wooyoung, Woo, sir, please, let me—” he tried thrusting his hips back, getting nothing but resistance in return. “Don’t be like this.”

Wooyoung hummed, seemingly considering his pleas, “Like this how?”

“I want to cum too.”

“Do you deserve it?” Wooyoung kneaded the soft skin of his hips. “Tell me, pup.”

Seonghwa’s brain short-circuited, his thoughts jumbled together in bubbles of Wooyoung’s name and cum. Did he? He couldn’t remember. Seonghwa was teasing the rockstar for the fun of it, but now those minutes of bliss turned into unforeseen misery. Don’t get him wrong, he trusted Wooyoung blindly, and if he wanted to deny him of his orgasm then he was nothing but overjoyed to follow orders, but not like this. He needed to cum at least once before playing around with the other’s kinks. His head was spinning with his quick breaths, and his poor dick pulsed pitifully against his stomach. He had to get home early tonight, but by the looks of it, this would be another all-nighter full of nothing but Wooyoung and his whims.

“I don’t know.”

“Who knows then?” Wooyoung kissed his way up Seonghwa’s lower back, sliding up the hoodie even more to uncover his spine and thin waist.

“You,” he breathed out. “You know.”

Wooyoung hummed pleased and let Seonghwa go, grabbing the strawberry-scented lube and pouring a generous amount on his fingers. The transparent, reddish substance smelled amazing, throwing Seonghwa off. Was it supposed to entice people to eat each other out? How gruesome. Well, if Wooyoung liked it then there were no complaints from his mouth. In fact, he thanked the hands that produced such a heavenly item when Wooyoung’s finger massaged his rim, spreading the sticky lube around. It was a little cold for his taste, funnily enough, considering the rockstar was always thorough in heating up his substance of choice when prepping him. This only meant he was as impatient and pent-up as Seonghwa himself was, even if his traitorous mouth uttered otherwise.

The lubed finger passed the first and second ring of muscle in one go, gaining a pained groan from Seonghwa. Wooyoung shushed him, comfortingly drawing circles on Seonghwa’s lower back with his other hand. When his finger pushed as far as it could go, he curved it upwards, relishing in Seonghwa’s increasingly needy noises. After that, he gave a few thrusts before pulling his finger out almost entirely, shallowly moving it around. Wooyoung was such a tease Seonghwa couldn’t help but wail, fat tear drops falling from his eyes as he tried his best to scratch the itch of cumming. This wasn’t prepping, it was deliberate torture.

“Are you serious?” Seonghwa hissed, pausing to gather his ragged breaths. “Fuck me ah right.”

“Demanding much, no?” Wooyoung laughed.

Without warning, Seonghwa felt the push of another finger. He almost sighed in relief if it wasn’t for the embarrassingly shallow drag of Wooyoung’s fingers. It was on purpose, no doubt, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. Not today. Seonghwa whined loudly, biting the tank top to keep his noises to a minimum. He wouldn’t give Wooyoung the pleasure of seeing him break down due to his actions so easily. Seonghwa had his own dignity to take care of as well, and if it took two more hours of unspeakable suffering to prove himself, then so be it

“Do you love me, pup?”

What was this now? These questions were meant for another day, when he was fully clothed and at least a few feet away from the assailant in question. By now, Seonghwa had two or three functional neurons at best, how was he supposed to answer Wooyoung’s questions properly? This wasn’t necessary at all, really. Seonghwa would happily oblige his curiosity any other time, for example, when Wooyoung’s fingers were not inside of his ass. But, unfortunately, a man could only dream when it came to the rockstar. 

“Can you, fuck, keep your questions for later?”

“Nuh-uh,” Wooyoung watched his own fingers go in and out of the stretching, pink hole, eyes shining with deliberate determination. “I can’t, pretty boy. You better answer now.”

“I d-don’t,” he huffed.

“Hm? Really?” Wooyoung chuckled cruelly. “You won’t cum tonight, then.”

“That’s manipulation, sir.”

The rockstar wiggled his fingers, “I’m just coaxing you into speaking the truth.”

“That still counts as manipulation,” Seonghwa murmured, closing his eyes tightly as he arched his back impossibly higher. “But you win. You win.”

Wooyoung waited for his answer while his fingers scissored Seonghwa’s insides with the patience of a saint. Needless to say, he was far from that. Seonghwa weighed his options one more time, considering whether to follow his instincts and lie or disregard his self-preservation and think with his dick again. One and two, two and one. Ultimately, he went for two. The outcome would be no different at the end of the night anyway.

“I do. I’m so in love with you it hurts to see you shine on stage. Every time you get flirted with by some random person, my blood boils with jealousy. I can’t stand the idea of seeing you with someone else, but I know you don’t see me that way and I—”

Wooyoung pushed his fingers to the hilt, almost reaching Seonghwa’s prostate. He couldn’t keep speaking, moans and cries spilling from his opened mouth instead. Wooyoung was finally fucking him properly, roughly thrusting his fingers in and out without any care in the world. It was so fast, so good. Seonghwa cried on the already ruined tank top, evident bliss in his expression. This was what he came here for. Forget this was supposed to be prep, he was already satisfied enough with this treatment. He got to suck Wooyoung’s cock, albeit briefly, and now he was on the edge of his orgasm, hopefully. If Wooyoung allowed him to reach his high, Seonghwa would fix his clothes and walk out that door, not even stopping by to say goodbye to Hongjoong. His confession alone made him want to bang his head against the stupid mirror wall and break it all apart.

Seonghwa looked like a debauched dog in heat, moving his hips and panting as if his body burned with pleasure. His reflection in the mirror was downright filthy, but Wooyoung’s face was much worse. His cheeks were rosy—whether it was from the view, heat, or whatever could make him look like that, he didn’t know—and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. His eyes were wide open and shining with a possessive glint of something, and to top it all off, his cock was almost springing out of his opened pants once again. The sight spurred Seonghwa on like nothing before, pushing him at arm's length from cumming for the first time tonight.

“I love you too, pup. You don’t even know how much I would do only for you,” Wooyoung inhaled as if in a trance, pausing briefly the movement of his hand to fuck him hard and slow. “You’re so popular around these parts it’s actually comical. Do you know the number of parasites I’ve had to deal with to have you all to myself? It’s been so difficult to set you apart, and yet here we are,” he tutted.

Seonghwa whimpered. The realization of his feeling’s being reciprocated—more or less—was too much for him. The small string keeping his orgasm at bay snapped violently, and he came, spurts of thick cum coating the silky black sofa. Wooyoung’s fingers still kept massaging his insides, leading him on to finish riding the ecstasy of his orgasm. His hips would’ve given out if it wasn’t for Wooyoung holding him up, but his arms were not that lucky. Seonghwa had been gripping the tank top as if it was his lifeline, and now his face was planted on it while he caught his breath. Wooyoung eventually stopped playing around, taking out his fingers and cleaning them on his washed-out jeans.

“Up you go, we’re not done yet.”

“Huh?”

His brain was half-mushy when Wooyoung manhandled him into sitting down, tapping his lap with a grin on his face. What did this madman want now? They both came, and the night had turned far too long already. Ideally, Seonghwa would gather his belongings and dip. Realistically? Well, his behavior had been nothing but questionable right from the start, why would he stop now? Wooyoung’s plan was not too difficult to decipher, even if Seonghwa secretly wished it was. He wanted Seonghwa to ride him. Simple. His dick was already twitching from overstimulation, anything more than this would be past the thin line between pain and pleasure, but he couldn’t care less.

“Facing the mirror, baby, you know the rules.”

Oh, it was one of those days.

Seonghwa waited for Wooyoung to adjust himself out of his tight boxers, and when his cock sprang free again, he climbed on top of Wooyoung’s lap. He rested his ass against the hot body part, and his hands grabbed Wooyoung’s thighs to support himself. His thighs were spread open, revealing his hardening dick, but also slightly showing what was happening behind him. Seonghwa could see his reflection once more, this time directly. This was Wooyoung’s idea of greatness. He made eye contact with the rockstar through the mirror, watching as he ripped open a condom’s package with his teeth and rolled it on his cock, grabbing Seonghwa's ass cheeks again to spread them apart.

It was his turn to do the job now. He aligned himself with Wooyoung’s cock and slowly descended on it, thanking God for the lube still aiding the stretch and Wooyoung’s hands keeping him from going too fast. He threw his head back and moaned, closing his eyes when Wooyoung’s cock was entirely buried inside of him. Fuck, he felt so full. Seonghwa opened his tearful eyes to see Wooyoung smirking behind him, his sneaky hands crawling up his back and sliding underneath his hoodie. He stopped at his belly button piercing and played with it briefly before going farther and farther, reaching his nipples. Wooyoung pinched both at the same time, massaging his areolas soon after. Seonghwa had not even moved just yet, but he almost felt like cumming again.

Wooyoung’s lips latched on his nape, biting and sucking as he moved his fingers around Seonghwa’s nipples. His hips were uncharacteristically still, as if his cock wasn’t impaling Seonghwa’s insides at all. Wooyoung was preoccupied with marking his neck as much as his hoodie allowed him to and abusing his chest. Lovely stuff, really, but what he really needed was Wooyoung to fuck him until he couldn’t even remember his name properly. 

“Look how desperate you are for me,” Wooyoung whispered against his neck, sliding his tongue over the multiple bites. “Move, baby.”

No one had to tell him twice. Seonghwa raised his hips and bounced on Wooyoung’s cock, repeating the movement once and twice and thrice… His brain was awfully gone as he fucked himself on the rockstar’s cock, aided by his hands everywhere. Wooyoung’s jeans bit the skin of his ass as he bounced, but he didn’t care, chasing his high single-mindedly for the second time tonight. Seonghwa was entranced with the sight in the mirror; Wooyoung with his head back and eyebrows furrowed, his own dick slapping his stomach every time he bounced, the squelching sound of a wet hole being filled… Everything was proof of his infatuation with Wooyoung Fucking Jung.

“Careful there, you’re staring hearts, pup.”

“No, I’m augh not,” Seonghwa gasped as Wooyoung’s cock curved just right inside of him. “Woo, come on.”

The rockstar bit his nape, almost like a vampire would, “What?”

“Fuck me right!”

Wooyoung chuckled behind him, holding his hips with bruising strength as he helped Seonghwa bounce. The squelching sounds were sinful, but the strawberry scent of the lube functioned as a brainwasher as he felt his sanity slip even more by the second. Seonghwa rolled his eyes, whining as if he was in heat every time Wooyoung hit his sweet spot. Couldn’t he be like this all the time? Their sex sessions would certainly be quicker if the rockstar held him in some sort of high regard, respecting him and his time enough to let him cum once and be over with it. Of course, teasing and playing around was infinitely more fun, but right now, right here, his body couldn’t care less whether they spent minutes or hours fucking. It was the same anyway.

“If you were so well-behaved all the time…” Wooyoung mouthed against his ear, biting his lobe before speaking again. “This would’ve been so different.”

Seonghwa opted to ignore the other man’s words and focused on his own pleasure. He furrowed his eyebrows with the last bounce, moving his hips in long, slow circles instead. Fuck, it felt good. Wooyoung’s hands on his stomach and nipples were enough to make him forget about everything that transpired before, and his cock… Well, it was almost like a gift sent from heaven. Seonghwa bit his lips to keep himself from screaming, but the rockstar somehow managed to find his way towards his hair, grabbing the soft, black strands from the root to pull his head back. His lips fell open as he found himself face to face with his biggest nightmare. Wooyoung grinned cheekily, his teeth gleaming with mirth when his tongue darted out to lick the stray teardrops that stained Seonghwa’s cheeks. When did those get there?

“So you’re in love with me?”

“What the fuck,” Seonghwa took a deep breath before nuzzling Wooyoung’s cheek. “Can we finish here?”

“I’d like to see you cry on my dick for a little while, won’t you indulge me?” he smiled.

He had no time to answer before Wooyoung uncomfortably shifted his head to kiss him. They were all over each other, sucking and panting like dogs in heat as Seonghwa grinded on the rockstar’s lap as fast as humanly possible. His hips and thighs burned, but Wooyoung seemed alien to the concept as he deepened their open-mouthed kiss. It was so damn filthy, spit, tears, and sweat mixing up to create a mess of bodily fluids Seonghwa would’ve frowned upon in any other circumstance. He giggled despite himself, feeling nothing but Wooyoung’s cock on his lower half. He was almost numb to the sensation of pleasure, but the simmering build up was still slowly rising. Seonghwa had nothing else to do with his hands than place them on Wooyoung’s thighs, trying to keep himself upright the more he moved.

Seonghwa knew his second orgasm of the night was close, but he had to try his hardest to keep it from Wooyoung until it was too late to stop it. The rockstar was a fucking sadist, the moment he realized Seonghwa was about to tap out their fun would hit the brake and stop, if only to make it more exciting. He was at fault, he knew it, but it was still annoying to bounce on someone’s dick and still know he had all night to keep doing just that. His own cock felt neglected against his clothed stomach, drooling pre-cum pitifully and twitching ever so slightly with every drag of Wooyoung’s inside of him. He was so damn close.

“I remember the first time I saw you, all serious and frowning like you found us disgusting to be around,” the rockstar slid his right hand from his chest to his dick, pumping it softly. “Look at you now, all pretty just for me.”

Truthfully, the first time he saw Wooyoung he was upset for all the wrong reasons. Seonghwa was glad his best friend finally had people to play his little instruments and sing with, but Wooyoung was not your average guy. Sure, San was absolutely insane, and yes, Mingi surely had a deck he could literally die riding, but Wooyoung was his type through and through. Sometimes he wished Yeosang was more his thing, you know, a cute little guy with a feisty but quiet personality. Yet, here he was, crying on Wooyoung Jung’s cock like a bitch. It wouldn’t have been all that bad if he just cared for his body, but he knew it wasn’t like that anymore. Unfortunately, falling for Wooyoung wasn’t the hardest thing in the world.

“Ahh, what I would give to have you all day every day like this.”

Seonghwa choked on his spit as he moaned, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Make you cum all day just like this,” he whispered.

Almost as if on command, Seonghwa closed his eyes tightly and stopped moving, opening his mouth in a big o. His orgasm washed all over his body like a bucket of full water, making him clench his toes in a silent prayer. He didn’t spill much semen, but it was enough to coat Wooyoung’s palm like an incomplete painting. Instead of teasing him further, the rockstar reached for his discarded tank top and cleaned his hand with it, tossing it right after as if it was nothing. Somehow, he was manhandled in an easy show of long arms and some shuffling, making him face Wooyoung once again. His cock was still buried deep inside him, but neither made a single move to either pull out or continue.

Grinning, the rockstar grabbed his neck and pulled him down, kissing him again. His other hand took a hold of his hips, tracing small circles encouragingly. This time it was slow and sweet, like two lovers tasting each other after a long absence. Seonghwa barely had time to bask in the afterglow of his second orgasm, his brain already too preoccupied with feeding his heart with countless delusions about his feelings for fucking Wooyoung Jung. If he was just a hole to fill, why would he kiss him like this? Was this normal for him, or was Seonghwa somehow special? Did he have a chance? Countless questions with no answers, but Wooyoung’s lips on his felt way too good to utter any of them out loud. 

“Please.”

Wooyoung trailed kisses down his chin and jaw, “Mhm?”

“I want you so bad.”

“You have me, baby,” Wooyoung chuckled. He knew damn well Seonghwa was already cock-drunk. “I’m inside you.”

He was. He really was. There was no way of having him any closer, but Seonghwa’s body was on fire. It wasn’t about being horny anymore—his dick was already soft for God’s sake—this was a simple and raw yearning of owning Wooyoung whole. Oh my God, he was one of those lame guys that confessed after cumming, wasn’t he? Wooyoung only had to kiss him gently for him to lose all his brain cells in a single swoop.

After this out of place realization it didn’t take long for tears to well in his eyes, falling down his face. He was so in love with the rockstar it hurt. Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to gather his clothes and run away far from here, but Wooyoung’s cock deep inside of him and his possessive hands holding him in place were a tad bit difficult to get rid of. Was he doomed to cry on this guy’s dick forever? No way. Looking at it from an outsider’s perspective it was rather comical, more so when Wooyoung already said he loved him too, but who on their right mind would believe a fucker like him during sex? He was the type to say whatever to get people to do what he wanted. It worked wonders, obviously, but Seonghwa felt nothing but distress the more he remembered all the shit he spouted in the spur of the moment.

“After this you know I’m not letting you go back home tonight, right? You’re crying so cutely for me,” he licked his tears, smirking. “Too many feelings?”

“I hate you.”

Wooyoung hummed, “I bet. You hate me so much that you’ll let me fuck you all night long, won’t you, pup?”

No, of course not, he had a group project in the morning and he had to review his notes before—

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanna fuck you from the back so bad,” he hissed, finally grabbing Seonghwa’s hips properly and thrusting. “Give you a reason to really cry.”

Seonghwa was sore all over, but he still threw his head back as Wooyoung picked up the pace all over again. This was their last round here, he knew it, but his body seemed to be revived by the promise of something more. At this point he was merely thankful his back was the one facing the stupid mirror wall. Watching himself cry like this could potentially shatter the last strand of dignity he had left, if the whole rolling back his eyes for Wooyoung wasn’t quite enough yet. It felt good to be used, too good.

Wooyoung’s grip tightened the more he thrust, moaning and huffling softly against Seonghwa’s hoodie. Or was he to call it his? Oh well, it was theirs. Seonghwa placed his hands on Wooyoung’s shoulders, bending down to kiss the rockstar again. It took a few more thrusts before he turned sloppy with his movements, taking longer to do anything at all. Already used to this, Seonghwa brought his hands towards Wooyoung’s hair, tugging the strands with urgency. That was all it took for Wooyoung to cum, filling the condom. He took a deep breath before helping Seonghwa climb down his lap safely towards the sofa. His legs felt like jelly, yet Wooyoung stood up as if nothing had happened, took off the condom, threw it away, and slid up his pants and boxers. Seonghwa could only watch with tired blinks, admiring the rockstar’s naked torso and messy hair.

“Come on, pup, we don’t have all night.”

“What?” he rasped out.

“We’re going to my place.”

Seonghwa nodded as if Wooyoung’s words made any sense at all and gathered his garments, putting everything on with the rockstar’s help. If Yunho winked at him when they walked out of the club right through the front door, then no one had to know. Especially not Wooyoung Fucking Jung.