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“Seonghwa said you need to go over to help him scrub the floor.”
What.
“What?”
Hongjoong had spent the past few hours napping intermittently, and now that he’s emerged from his room to get a glass of cold water he finds Wooyoung cooking in the kitchen with an ominous message from someone who hasn’t even been looking Hongjoong in the face.
“He said you need to go when you’re free.” Wooyoung mixes something in the pot rather vigorously to prevent it from sticking to the bottom, it looks like a new recipe as he has his phone on the counter showing a bullet list, so he too keeps his eyes away from Hongjoong. “Was it a bet?”
Taking a deep breath, Hongjoong tries to empty his head of all doomsday scenarios forming while he pours water from the bottle in a glass.
“Something like that,” his reply is unconvincing, but it’s better than having to look for a more reasonable excuse. He and Seonghwa had never been the type to make bets among themselves or with others, especially not ones that resulted in some type of domestic chore exchange. On the bright side, however, it meant Seonghwa was ready to acknowledge his existence somewhat. Maybe he just wants to talk and give Hongjoong a chance to apologize, maybe return his credit card.
“Does this have anything to do with him not talking to you?” Wooyoung turns off the heat, and turns around to look at Hongjoong while still stirring the content of the pot so it cools down.
Hongjoong is too busy downing the glass of water to answer Wooyoung, and even after he’s finished he settles for pretending he didn’t hear it. He’d said he wouldn’t talk about it, and Wooyoung very proudly threatened him by saying he would ask Seonghwa then, but to Hongjoong’s relief it seems as if Seonghwa opted for not airing out their problems. So merciful.
*
“What took you so long?” Seonghwa asks when he opens the door to the dorm. Hongjoong decided to leave without talking to Wooyoung, so he didn’t ask for the code of Seonghwa’s dorm. On top of that, simply waltzing into the house when Seonghwa had reason to be bothered by his presence, was just too bold a move.
“I was napping,” he comes in when Seonghwa steps to the side.
Seonghwa hums as he closes the door. He wears gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, a pretty comfortable look for his day off, his hair is half tied in a bun at the top of his head and he has the shadow of a stubble. He looks good, but Hongjoong tries to keep his eyes down. Anything he does can make his situation worse, and he wants to fix things.
“What am I here for?” Hongjoong tries with a firm voice, like he’s commanding Seonghwa to answer him despite not holding this power right now. He can’t help his clenched fist, his tensed shoulders, both things getting even more wound up when Seonghwa scoffs before replying.
“Didn’t Wooyoung tell you? To help me clean.” Gesturing for Hongjoong to follow him, Seonghwa walks towards the corridor that leads to his room. With each step Hongjoong takes while trailing behind him, mauling the evasive answer in his head, he’s more and more aware that he’s proper fucked.
Seonghwa comes in and once more holds the door open for Hongjoong, and he locks the door behind them. Hongjoong stands to the side. With a quick look around while Seonghwa comes to stand in the middle of the space, Hongjoong sees there’s something wet on the floor right in front where Seonghwa is, something pearly and thick that instantly makes his stomach drop.
“Come here,” Seonghwa points down with his index finger, like he’s telling a dog where to sit. Hongjoong allows himself one heartbeat of hesitation before he’s moving. He watches his step when he moves, and stops one step away from where the wet drops are before lifting his eyes to Seonghwa. “Get down.”
Hongjoong swallows thickly, a feeling of dread signaling that something bad is about to happen, and he brought it upon himself. He kneels, paying attention to not get any of the viscous substance on his clothes when he does so, though unsure if he would escape unscathed. In that split second before Seonghwa was squatting down after him, Hongjoong hoped the substance was meant to be cleaned up with his own clothes, but he’s not so lucky.
Seonghwa holds him by the hair, the grasp not strong enough to hurt, and neither is the tug forward.
“On all fours,” Seonghwa adds quietly. The house is silent, but the others are probably home, locked in their rooms doing their own things, blissfully ignorant to the madness unfolding in Seonghwa’s eyes when Hongjoong meets them to make sure he’d heard the command correctly, following it when there’s no hint that Seonghwa would retract the request or withdraw his hand, unsure hands going towards the floor, fingers spread when he releases some of his weight on them. “Good boy,” he pets Hongjoong’s head, two pats and a quick ruffle. “Do you see this?” The tip of his finger taps on the floor four times to bring Hongjoong’s attention to the mess between them. Of course the blobs of goo were spread, some behind where Seonghwa was standing, but most were accumulated on the floor right between them, right where Seonghwa pointed. “Clean it.”
“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong’s voice comes out like he’s a chew toy being squeezed. “Can’t we just talk?” His head stays bowed, scared of what he would find in Seonghwa’s eyes if he looked up.
“We can talk when the floor is clean,” he taps the floor again, only twice now, and he grabs Hongjoong by the hair with a little more determination to pull him down towards the floor, which Hongjoong resists. “You made a mess and I cleaned it up, so we’re gonna be even when you clean up my mess.”
Hongjoong feels weird in his stomach, like he’s about to throw up a big dark mass of guilt.
Maybe it’s not guilt. Being honest with himself, Hongjoong hadn’t felt much of it before. He felt bad after Seongha slapped him that day, but a thrilling type of bad, one that, if his actions had no bearings in other people’s lives, in Ateez, he would seek again. He felt bad during those days when Seonghwa ignored him simply because he wanted Seonghwa’s attention, because it impacted the dynamic of the team, because he felt embarrassed of his actions and embarrassed of how little being caught meant to him. So now he feels bad because he’s being punished, and on his hands and knees having his head pushed down towards Seonghwa’s stale cum on the pristine floor he does feel the humiliation seeping in, making his core twist as his mind goes haywire, paradoxical feeling it is. Does it feel good to be treated like a misbehaving animal or does it feel bad? If it feels good why do his eyes fill with tears, why does his lip quiver when he exhales. And if it feels bad, why does he want to resist the hand for the sole purpose of having Seonghwa shove him down further, why does he want to argue more, to defend himself so more of Seonghwa’s coldness is delivered to him?
By the time Seonghwa stops pushing him down, Hongjoong’s head is close enough to the floor that if he rolled out his tongue he would be able to touch it. He feels gross, and he waits, hovering close enough to Seonghwa’s cum that he can faintly smell it like sex, something reminiscent of sweat. Maybe if he stalls enough Seonghwa is gonna change his mind. Hongjoong knows, and Seonghwa must know too, that the moment his tongue touches the fluid on the floor, something between them is going to be changed irreparably. Maybe it already had changed for Seonghwa, and this added nothing to the strain.
“Go on.”
There’s a strangled cry at the back of Hongjoong’s throat when he makes up his mind to get it over with. He parts his lips with a smack that must be audible enough in the quiet room for Seonghwa to hear, as that is when the weight of his hand is withdrawn.
Hongjoong sticks his tongue out and it touches the cold floor that tastes of nothing, and when he slides the tip over a couple centimeters ahead he tastes something different, tangy, salty, sweet, all at the same time. He gathers his tongue back into his mouth, turns his face away so he can’t smell the cum anymore, takes a deep breath to stave off his need to retch, the prickling feeling in his throat.
“Now you feel disgusted?” Seonghwa taps the back of Hongjoong’s head twice as if knocking on a door to check if someone is on the other side. He sounds almost genuinely curious.
“I’m so sorry,” there’s the squeaky toy noise again, and he’s still fighting off the tears that well up in his eyes. He wants to shed none, but the mix of queasiness and embarrassment are too overwhelming.
“I don’t want an apology, dog,” the hand is back on Hongjoong’s head pushing him down towards the floor, and Hongjoong can’t help a whimper from being called that. In all honesty, he’s scared of Seonghwa now, and that’s what gets the blood flowing to his cock. “I want you to lick my cum.”
Seonghwa keeps pushing until Hongjoong is licking the floor again, until his nose is being gently squished against the cold tile, thankfully landing on an empty spot. Hongjoong has his tongue out, tasting the floor and some of Seonghwa’s spill, and Seonghwa pulls his head forward and pushes it back again as if wiping the floor with Hongjoong’s face. For the lack of an alternative, Hongjoong lets himself be handled at Seonghwa’s will, making sure his tongue flats against the floor to wipe at once as much of the spill as he can so all of this ends faster, though part of him wants to stall so there’s a chance his unjustifiable erection is gonna go down before he’s allowed up.
After a minute of the guided cleaning, Seonghwa pulls Hongjoong’s head up sharply, the tug in his strands painful. Hongjoong is unable to meet Seonghwa’s eyes still, but by the corner of his vision he can tell Seonghwa just wanted to inspect how good a job Hongjoong is doing on the floor so far, and Hongjoong decides to look too. The spot he’d been licking shines with his spit still wet, but it’s reasonably clean, and Seonghwa seems to agree.
“You’re doing so good,” Seonghwa says in a fake praise, petting Hongjoong’s head again as he’d done before, the touch somehow more degrading than having his face rubbed on the floor like a rag. “Keep going,” he adds, getting up from where he was crouching and stepping away from Hongjoong to sit on the edge of his bed.
Hongjoong can tell his face is red and his hands are shaky. The taste of cum is coating all of his mouth, but it’s so different from how he’d imagined tasting Seonghwa would go. He stalls, pretending to inspect the floor, when in reality Hongjoong does his best to snap out of the thought that he’s fucked, that everything is fucked. He just needs to get this over with, and then maybe they can repair it.
Hesitantly, Hongjoong crawls forward only a few centimeters so he reaches new spots, and then he’s leaning down again to clean up another section of the floor. He keeps going, cutting through the thick and heavy silence that’s settled deep in the room, the house, perhaps the whole building, and for a while the only thing to be heard are the quiet wet noises when he brings his tongue back into his mouth to swallow and gather more moisture for the next lick.
Hongjoong eventually stops to look around in search of missing spots, feeling gross and defeated and like his limbs are tied to bricks. There’s nothing. He’s cleaned everything, and so Hongjoong sits on his heels and waits for confirmation.
“Did you enjoy it?” Seonghwa asks simply from where he sits, a hint of rage in his voice that keeps Hongjoong from gathering the courage to look.
“I shouldn’t have done any of that,” he offers yet another apology for what feels like the millionth time. It only feels as such because he knows Seonghwa won’t take it. Perhaps it would be easier to accept if he had something better to offer. All he can do is hope that the little humiliation routine was enough to earn him some redemption.
“Shut up,” there’s no bite in Seonghwa’s voice, but something that resembles disappointment, a certain heaviness of someone who’s been through the same conversation a million times. “Come here,” he points to the space between his legs on the floor.
With the vague awareness that his clothes are mopping his own spit, Hongjoong crawls towards Seonghwa, sits on his folded legs where Seonghwa had pointed him towards.
“I asked if you enjoyed it.” Seonghwa sounds calm as if he were genuinely asking, and he even holds Hongjoong’s face with the same tenderness. It feels like a lover’s touch, something Hongjoong had gone without for so long that it sends a shiver down his whole body. He stays alert, aware of the fact that this isn’t real, that there’s something behind Seonghwa’s eyes, Seonghwa’s touch, that despises him right now, even if he can’t find it. “Did your little cock twitch when you tasted my cum?”
Despite the hands on his face, cupping him by the jawline, Hongjoong struggles to keep his head up and meet Seonghwa’s eyes. His dick twitches now too, but what happens if he admits to it?
“It left you speechless?” Seonghwa asks, hums afterwards as if pleased with the uncomfirmed scenario, his hand comes up to brush Hongjoong’s hair, push it back away from his face and then gently glide down to his jaw again. “I’m gonna keep your credit card a little more, I haven’t gotten everything I need.”
Hongjoong nods. That week Seonghwa had gotten something from YSL, on the cheaper end, so probably a new pack of underwear, something from a store for house items that Hongjoong had only heard of, and lunch at a restaurant that cost as much as what he’d gotten at YSL. Technically, Seonghwa had gotten everything Hongjoong was supposed to pay for and some, but Hongjoong is not about to argue, he’s in no position to. And he doesn’t mind. He wouldn’t have minded someone else spending his money even in less vengeful contexts.
“Can I go?” Hongjoong gathers the courage to mutter it, eager for his torture session to end. He risks a glance at Seonghwa’s face to catch an expressionless stare.
Seonghwa seems to ponder the request for a second, looking from one of Hongjoong’s eyes to the other. Finally, Seonghwa smiles. “You can.”
Despite the release, Hongjoong catches himself frozen, kneeling in front of Seonghwa with his head tilted up. It just felt too easy that he would be released like that. He had expected something else, another slap perhaps, or maybe Seonghwa would order him to open his mouth so he could spit inside. Hongjoong shivers at the thought. He would take even Seonghwa spitting right in his face, but this, a little smile followed by freedom, it feels too easy, like Seonghwa refuses to shut the door he just opened, so the absence of his anger is frightening and Hongjoong waits for too long for it to not be just that.
But ultimately, he gets up. Ultimately he walks towards the door while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, because although all his spit has dried from there by now, he still feels off, like his face is dirty and Wooyoung is gonna see right through him when he steps back into the house.
By the door he stops to give himself time, because there must be something else to be said. It can’t just be that, leaving with a see you later after crawling and licking the floor for Seonghwa’s amusement.
“You’re not gonna tell the others, are you?” He asks out of fear, because if the others lose respect for him the whole balance shifts. The past week with Seonghwa clearly mad at him had been rough on everyone because nothing feels right when there’s a disagreement between any of them, and this is, Hongjoong recognizes, far beyond a disagreement.
“We’ll see if you behave.”