Work Text:
“Your hand is at the wrong angle,” Daehyun says, his voice taking on the low, stern tone he used when he was a drill sergeant during service.
He didn’t mean for it to come out like that—he meant to tease—but seeing Youngjae’s sloppy salute when it’s only been two days since he was discharged must have triggered something in Daehyun he’d rather not examine right at this moment, not when Youngjae’s shoulders stiffen for a tense millisecond before he laughs, alone in the spotlight on a bare stool in front of a camera that"s still rolling.
Youngjae adjusts the angle of his hand without a word and salutes again—blushing, caught off guard, embarrassed but delighted. Youngjae always did like any sort of attention.
Daehyun, watching, falls quiet, reeling from the seismic shift inside of him.
.
When they receive the choreography from Jongup’s dance team, they all fall in love with it at first sight, kickstarting an intense training schedule to learn the entire choreo by the time they start filming the music video in a few weeks. They weren’t planning to include it, but now that they’ve seen it, it feels impossible not to.
None of them were ever really in charge of dance practice. Back in the day, their choreographer instructed and supervised while TS staff watched them like hawks eyeing field mice, ready to snap them up between their beaks at the smallest mistake.
Now, the atmosphere is much more relaxed and friendly.
After wrapping up filming some scenes for the documentary in the morning, they spend the afternoon in the dance studio. Jongup naturally leads them through the steps alongside the main choreographer, repeating the motions that give the members the most trouble and sharing pointed, constructive feedback. They practice well together, getting the blocking down for the entire song within the first hour.
But about two hours into their scheduled five-hour practice, the group starts to lose focus. Jongup is an amazing dance captain, but he’s quiet and introverted, and even though he’s had more practice now being a leader through Peak Time, rounding up a group of 25 adults isn’t easy.
So when Daehyun sees Jongup struggling to call the group back to attention at the end of their ten-minute water break, he claps Jongup on the shoulder and steps in with his loud, clear voice from the front of the room. “Break’s over! Let’s get back to practice, everyone!”
Jongup shoots him an appreciative smile.
The small pods of dancers that formed around the room start to gel back together towards the center like an octopus curling in its tentacles. Conversations quiet. Phones are slipped back into bags, put on silent. Focus begins to descend over the group.
Then Youngjae laughs and says, “Who put you in charge?”
The focus splits. A few of the dancers laugh with Youngjae, who is leaning against the mirrors nearby with his arms crossed and that smart-ass grin across his lips. The octopus stops tightening, and the mischievous gleam in Youngjae’s eyes is all for Daehyun.
“Who put me in charge?” Daehyun repeats, tone incredulous.
Youngjae lifts his chin. His hair becomes fluffy after drying off the sweat, and it’s puffed up now, like fur on the back of an angry kitten.
Youngjae smirks and opens his mouth again, but Daehyun jumps forward, years of muscle memory jolting him into action.
The objective is always to get Yoo Youngjae to shut his mouth.
His fingers slide across Youngjae’s cheek as his feet catch up to the rest of his body, both feet planted underneath him with one between Youngjae’s legs. Their chests knock together. The mirror rumbles threateningly when he pushes Youngjae against it; Youngjae tilts his shoulders, and Daehyun’s hand glances off his upper arm. They laugh loudly. Daehyun can feel his heart on his tongue. He makes a grab for Youngjae as though to put him in a headlock, but Youngjae twists away from him again, and they end up on the floor, hands locked together, grappling with each other.
“Sergeant Jung!” Youngjae is gasping for breath through his laughter. “Is it Sergeant Jung now?!”
“Say I’m in charge!”
“No!”
“Say it!”
“No!” More wild laughter. Youngjae’s head thrown back, mouth open wide, column of his neck exposed. Youngjae’s knees knock against Daehyun’s ribs. Daehyun grabs Youngjae’s face by his cheeks. His fingers feel electric.
Then someone hooks the back of Daehyun’s shirt collar. “Guys, break it up,” Yongguk says. The warmth in his voice makes the fight drain out of Daehyun instantly. He releases Youngjae and stands, only then noticing some of the dancers wearing expressions of shock on their faces.
Youngjae says, “Hey! Help me up,” and Daehyun lowers his hand without thinking, knowing they’ll connect. He pulls Youngjae to his feet. Youngjae straightens his clothes out and tsks through his teeth. “I always say to use your words and not your fists,” he admonishes playfully, combing his fingers through his hair.
Always one last word, with him. Daehyun lets him have it, turning his attention to the dancers, whom they’ll be working with for months to come, feeling awkward and sheepish.
“We’re not fighting,” Daehyun says to the dancers, waving his hands before himself. “We’re just—”
“Don’t worry about them. You’ll get used to it,” Jongup says with a smile.
“That’s right,” Youngjae agrees. He hooks his arm behind Daehyun’s neck and yanks Daehyun toward him, planting a kiss on Daehyun’s cheek. Then he walks away, toward his spot at the beginning of the choreo. “We always make up.”
Daehyun tries not to let his delighted surprise show too much on his face. When he joins Youngjae and the others in their first formation, their eyes meet in the mirror, and his cheek burns with the imprint of Youngjae’s lips.
.
댛니
on your way back?
영재바보🖤
yeah
in the car, honey~~
댛니
I have a scene in mind for us tonight
or are you too tired?
영재바보🖤
will i like it?
댛니
Of course you will like it 😏
영재바보🖤
that confidence is
offputting
but now i’m intrigued
okay then
challenge accepted
댛니
yah
it’s not a challenge
yoo youngjae!
.
Daehyun sets himself up on their couch in the living room reading a book when he knows Youngjae is about to arrive home. He has washed up already and changed into a soft black tank and cargo pants.
He’s eager for tonight as it’s been ages since they’ve been able to play a scene, and Youngjae’s behavior at dance practice earlier riled him up. Tonight, his goal is to reduce Youngjae"s mind to a foggy mess, until all he can see is Daehyun, like a light breaking through the mist. Daehyun can hardly pay attention to the words he is reading on the page, eyes skimming over the same sentences while his mind is full of images of what he hopes the night will bring.
He hears the sound of the lock sliding back on the front door and bites down into his bottom lip to keep from grinning widely. Youngjae enters quietly, lips pursed, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are we starting?" he asks.
Daehyun turns the page, feigning focus on his book. "You can shower first. Take your time." He peeks at Youngjae while he is taking off his shoes. He looks a little bedraggled, like an alleycat that"s gotten into a tussle, his hair mussed and his clothes rumpled. Daehyun fights down the urge inside of him to forget his plans and instead frogmarch Youngjae to their bed and cuddle him to sleep. "How was rehearsal?"
"Good, fine. What are we going to be doing?" Youngjae heads straight to the bedroom, pulling up his shirt along the way. He"s impatient tonight, which is good. Easier to toy with, easier to bring down.
"It"s a surprise," Daehyun says.
From within the bedroom: "But you"re bad at surprises." Watery, golden light floods the room, a sharp shard of it spilling out into the living room.
Daehyun chuckles, closing his book and leaning forward on the couch. "Well, then maybe I won"t do it," he threatens.
Youngjae doesn"t answer. Drawers slide open and shut, and then the soft muffled thump of his footsteps across the floor. “You"re annoying,” Youngjae says at the edge of the en suite. “Yah, don"t you dare go back on it—whatever it is.”
The shower begins to run. Daehyun sits back, satisfaction curling sweetly into the corners of his mouth. Youngjae"s capacity for overthinking is unmatched. Daehyun would bet his whole life savings that Youngjae is currently in the shower running kinky scenarios in his brain like a twisted actuarian. It"s more satisfying when Youngjae frets.
Daehyun places the book on the coffee table. He stands and stretches, circling his hips a few times to limber up. Then he goes into the bedroom. When Daehyun moved in, he upgraded Youngjae’s full bed to a king with a sleek wooden frame, two nightstands built into the design. He prepares a few items on his nightstand: a bottle of lube, a strip of condoms just in case, and Youngjae’s favorite small black plug, the size a comfortable fit in Daehyun’s palm. From the drawers, Daehyun retrieves their military tags, the small silver pendants gleaming in the soft light. He puts his own around his neck. Then, he lays a towel down over the bed, close to the edge.
Right on time, the water shuts off. Inside the bathroom, Youngjae hums the melody to ‘Gone’ while toweling off and applying creams to his skin. Daehyun knows his routine will take about five more minutes. He sits himself on the edge of the bed on the towel, facing the door to their en suite. Spine straight, arms crossed, abs compressed, he presses his lips together into a line and summons his drill sergeant persona from his time during enlistment.
That Daehyun was strict and stern, demanding, and persistent in his pursuit of perfection.
And this Youngjae is taking his sweet time.
Tardiness is unacceptable, as well as easily punishable.
When the door opens, Youngjae steps out with a towel draped around his shoulders, pajama bottoms slung low on his waist, the bare skin of his torso golden and dewy and supple-looking, but Daehyun has barely any time to admire his beauty before Youngjae falls back against the frame with a short cry and widened eyes. “Why are you sitting there like a serial killer!?”
“Private Yoo,” Daehyun begins, unphased, “how long is a soldier’s shower allowed to take?”
Youngjae laughs and slaps the door frame. His wet hair falls in pieces around his face. “Oh—is this—? We’re doing this? Um, seven minutes.” With a grin, he steps forward and straightens, clicking his heels together once before shoving his arms tight against his sides and puffing his chest out. “Seven minutes, sir!”
“And how long did you take?” Daehyun asks, examining Youngjae’s stance. A mockery of what ‘attention’ is supposed to look like. He clutches Youngjae’s warmed military tags in one fist.
“Um…”
“12 minutes and 42 seconds,” Daehyun supplies, “not counting the time spent lotioning yourself in front of the mirror.”
“You timed me? Psycho…” Youngjae mutters.
Of course, Daehyun didn’t actually time Youngjae’s shower, but Youngjae just has to believe that he did.
“What was that?” Daehyun shoots to his feet, and Youngjae flinches, then laughs again. He’s wrapping his head around their roles, but possibly not quite ready to accept them yet. His attention drifts from Daehyun, catching on the items on his nightstand—a flare of delight like a shiver running down his body, heat in his eyes—and then his gaze drops to Daehyun’s sternum, zeroing in on the tags.
“I said,” Youngjae says, tilting his chin up and smiling like a pleased fox, “if I took too long, it was only because I was opening myself up for you, psycho.”
Daehyun’s stomach swoops to his knees. He imagines himself turning Youngjae around, spreading his cheeks, and just sinking in . He knows and craves that tight, velvet heat.
But it’s not the time for it yet.
Daehyun steps into Youngjae’s space, looming over him, nearly nose to nose. Something stirs in his belly when Youngjae shrinks, shoulders curling. The scent of Youngjae’s bright citrus body wash and lotion fills Daehyun’s lungs, so appetizing that Daehyun’s mouth waters. Daehyun can’t help that his voice drops to a low rumble when he speaks. “That’s Sargeant Jung to you, Private,” he says. “Insubordinate behavior, tardiness, wasting natural resources and time—are you proud of your list of infractions, boy?”
Youngjae’s eyes flick down to Daehyun’s lips. “Yes,” Youngjae says, breath breaking across Daehyun’s mouth.
Daehyun waits. His fingertips burn to touch Youngjae’s skin, but he holds himself as still as stone, watching the slow, subtle rise and fall of Youngjae’s shoulders, and then the deepening of Youngjae’s breath, the quickening.
A whine slips from Youngjae’s throat. He leans forward. His hands come up to hold, to grab. Daehyun steps out to the side and completes a neat 90-degree turn, evading him. Youngjae groans, loud and animal. “Dae—!”
“You will address me as your superior,” Daehyun says, fighting to keep the smile from breaking over his face. “Assume push-up position. Down on one, up on two.”
“No!” Youngjae’s face is pink, hot with annoyance.
Daehyun cocks an eyebrow. “No?”
“Fuck you if you think I’m doing push-ups for sex!”
“Let’s add defiance and contempt to your list of infractions.”
“You’re abusing your power!”
“It is perfectly within my rights to discipline you,” Daehyun says, “however I choose.”
Youngjae puts his hands on his hips, staring Daehyun down with that haughty grin Daehyun loves. “Yeah? Try it.”
Without giving Youngjae time to think, Daehyun shoves Youngjae into the wall, locking him in place with his forearm resting against his throat. Panic has Youngjae grabbing hold of Daehyun’s arm with both hands, one at Daehyun’s elbow, and the other around his wrist. His eyes are large circles. Daehyun doesn’t press, but any movement Youngjae tries to make will be very uncomfortable for him. He shoves his knee between Youngjae’s thighs and presses in.
Youngjae’s grip loosens. A low, shaky moan floats through his parted lips. “You’re—fast—”
Daehyun grins, feeling Youngjae start to harden on his leg. The towel slips from Youngjae’s shoulders, a white puddle on the floor. “You’ve been slacking during drills, Private Yoo,” Daehyun murmurs. He reaches down with his free hand and finds the curve of Youngjae’s half-hard cock.
Youngjae cants his hips forward on Daehyun’s thigh, eyes dark. “So you’ve been watching me?”
“Like I watch all the men,” Daehyun says.
“But you watch me ,” Youngjae insists. “You pay the most attention to me , don’t you?” A shudder when Daehyun applies pressure both on Youngjae’s neck and his groin. Youngjae hangs on Daehyun’s arm, heavy.
“What are you insinuating?” Daehyun whispers, liking the direction this is going.
“Oh, nothing,” Youngjae rasps. “Is this how you discipline all the bad little soldiers boys?”
“No, just the ones who leave their tags around for anyone to take.”
“What?” A flicker of fear passes behind Youngjae’s eyes when he realizes what Daehyun means. At the same time, Daehyun releases Youngjae’s throat to press the metal identification tags against Youngjae’s chest in his open palm. During boot camp, soldiers are required to wear the tags at all times—habit-forming for when they are out in the field. When Daehyun steps back, letting go, Youngjae scrambles to catch them in his hands before they can fall, the simple ball chain dripping between his fingers. His mouth pinches to the side. “This is only one of them,” he says.
“I have the other one,” Daehyun says while Youngjae loops the chain around his neck. “You’ve got a week of hard labor ahead of you for all the strikes against you. Or…”
“Or?”
“Or I can wipe your slate clean if you give me what I want,” Daehyun finishes, easing himself onto the edge of the mattress, sitting with his back straight, his knees apart. With a smile playing on his lips, Daehyun leans back onto his hands and glances down at his lap, then back up at Youngjae.
Confusion clouds Youngjae’s eyes. For all his quickness, sex knocks him a bit dumb. Youngjae stares down at his lone tag in his hand, his body against the wall. Still half-hard under his tented pants, a flush has arisen over his skin, darkening and tightening his nipples. Daehyun, smirking, watches Youngjae think, knowing exactly what is going through Youngjae’s mind—he is thinking about how annoyed he is with Daehyun, debating between his gremlin desire to keep the bit running and to make Daehyun’s life as hard as possible in the process, or just doing whatever he must to get properly disciplined and fucked.
Youngjae straightens, stepping out from the wall at soldier’s rest, but playful defiance remains in the dark gleam of Youngjae’s eyes, which makes his next words all the more delicious: “And what do you want?”
Fireworks explode in Daehyun’s brain, and a trembling begins in Daehyun’s fingers, like the buzzing of bees. He clenches his fists tightly behind his back, pushing down his excitement. “I want you to show respect to your superior officer,” he says slowly, purposefully drawing out the terms, “and I want you. I hear they pass you around in the barracks. That you give it out so sweet that none of the men in your unit miss their girlfriends or wives. Is that true?”
“It might be true,” Youngjae says, playing along. A confident smirk tugs at his lips, which Daehyun wants to slap right off his face. The image of Youngjae’s hole, loose and soft, stained with lube and cum, knocks the wind out of Daehyun’s lungs as effectively as a punch to the gut. And Youngjae knows it.
Smug brat.
“It might be true, sir,” Daehyun corrects.
“Oh, I don’t expect you to call me that,” Youngjae retorts, grinning widely.
“You must love digging trenches. Keep it up and that’s all you’ll be doing for a month,” Daehyun threatens.
Youngjae rocks back onto his heels. “But then how will I keep all the men in my unit from missing their girlfriends and wives? It’s not good for morale…”
Daehyun swears he feels his eye twitch, like Youngjae is really a Private mouthing off to him. “A month and a half.”
Youngjae scoffs.
“Two months,” Daehyun says. “And latrine and laundry duty on top of that.”
Youngjae balks. “Okay! Jeez, I know this is fake but that’s a little excessive, don’t you think?”
Daehyun raises an eyebrow, and Youngjae rolls his eyes.
“Don’t you think, sir?” he amends.
Daehyun smiles and says, “See? You can be a good boy.” A delightful, delicious flush crawls up Youngjae’s ears as Youngjae’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “Now come here. On your knees.”
Youngjae starts to step forward before pausing at the last order. With a sharp glare, he drops to his knees, cheeks blazing, and shuffles toward Daehyun until he is kneeling right in front of him. Daehyun parts his thighs and leans forward, taking Youngjae’s chin roughly between his fingers. There’s resistance when Daehyun tries to tilt his face up. “I don’t believe the rumors,” he says quietly. “Disobedient thing like you…can’t be that good.”
Youngjae’s lips part, protest in his eyes and on his tongue, but before he can speak, Daehyun shoves two fingers deep into Youngjae’s mouth, and Youngjae gags in surprise. Saliva gathers between Daehyun’s fingers, and a quick tear drops down the side of Youngjae’s face. When he feels Youngjae begin to pull back, he cups his other hand behind Youngjae’s head and braces, pushing his fingers deeper into Youngjae’s mouth, down past the soft folds of his throat.
Youngjae coughs and heaves, more tears splashing down his cheeks, hands pushing against Daehyun’s knee, against Daehyun’s forearm. Daehyun’s biceps bulge with the effort of keeping a wriggling Youngjae in place, choking on his fingers. His knuckles scrape against Youngjae’s teeth. Spit dribbles out of the corners of Youngjae’s mouth, dripping down his chin.
“Easy,” Daehyun orders. “Easy, Private…stay still. Didn’t you say you were opening yourself up for me? But not here, hm? Be a good boy for me…”
Daehyun feels Youngjae swallow around his fingers, gagging again. A helpless sob slips out of Youngjae. When Youngjae closes his eyes, tears glitter along his lashes. But he calms and settles, shakily resting his hands on top of Daehyun’s knee.
Daehyun catches a tear with his thumb and withdraws his fingers, proud when Youngjae doesn’t even shudder. He wipes his hand off on Youngjae’s cheek, and Youngjae glares at him. Chuckling, Daehyun says, “Haven’t even fucked you yet, and you look a mess.”
“I didn’t like that,” Youngjae says. His voice, made raspy, cracks, and Daehyun laughs.
“You didn’t? You think I care? I’m your superior and what you like and don’t like do not matter to me.”
“But—!”
Daehyun whips his two fingers, still wet, backward across Youngjae’s cheek—hard enough to sting and stun, but not to bruise. The sound snaps through the air. Youngjae’s face turns to the side, damp hair falling across his forehead. His chest heaves. Daehyun watches him carefully, monitoring the pulse jumping in Youngjae’s neck, the flush blossoming all over his naked torso. His cock feels heavy between his thighs.
When Youngjae looks back at Daehyun, his eyes are glassy and wide, his bottom lip protruding in a pout. He shuffles forward and leans his chin on Daehyun’s knee, between his hands. A soft feeling flutters through Daehyun’s chest. He cards his fingers through Youngjae’s hair, petting him lightly. “There you go. You learn quick. Don’t talk back. Now open up. I’m going to finish warming your throat up for my cock.”
Youngjae tips his head back and opens his mouth, and Daehyun slides his fingers inside, easy and smooth. He presses down on Youngjae’s tongue, forcing his jaw even wider, until he knows it must ache. Youngjae’s throat flutters. His entire face shines with tears and spit, and his neck glistens down to the top of his chest. Daehyun feels the whine building inside Youngjae’s wet mouth and suffocates it before it can be loosed, thrusting in until Youngjae gags again. “Shh…be quiet.”
Youngjae sniffles, crying with soft whimpering sounds. Daehyun can tell he is trying to relax, to accept the intrusion of Daehyun’s fingers, but it’s hard, especially after a year and a half out of practice. Cupping the back of Youngjae’s head again with his free hand, Daehyun begins to rock his fingers in and out of Youngjae’s throat. The first couple of thrusts produce more gagging and spit before Youngjae sags against Daehyun’s knee, eyes half-lidded and unfocused.
“Pretty,” Daehyun hums, pushing his foot forward between Youngjae’s thighs, until he can feel the stiff tip of Youngjae’s cock against his shin beneath their clothing. Youngjae releases a garbled moan, and his hands dart from Daehyun’s knee to his hover over his own groin.
“Don’t even think about touching yourself,” Daehyun warns.
Youngjae’s shoulders heave up and down with his chest. Daehyun knows he is considering this new rule and whether or not to follow it. When Youngjae’s hands inch closer, Daehyun closes the hand around the back of Youngjae’s head into a fist, fingers twisted tightly in his short hair, and thrashes him without mercy. Youngjae’s entire body tightens, and he chokes again on Daehyun, who withdraws to give Youngjae a chance to catch his breath.
Panting loudly, breath shaking at the top of his inhales, Youngjae presses his cheek against Daehyun’s knee, blinking with a glazed-over expression.
And then he puts his hands behind his back.
A beautiful warmth shivers down Daehyun’s back, tickling the base of his skull. He smiles, planting his feet more firmly on the ground, and guides Youngjae’s face into his lap. Youngjae has to shuffle forward more on his knees to keep from falling into the mattress. Daehyun slides Youngjae’s cheek down the side of his clothed length, biting down onto his bottom lip to muffle a groan. “You look good like this, Private,” Daehyun praises. His fingers tighten in Youngjae’s hair, eliciting a pained hiss. “What do you say when a superior officer compliments you?”
“Thank you, sir,” Youngjae whimpers.
Pleasure rumbles through Daehyun’s chest like a purr. He can do anything to Youngjae when he’s like this. “Take out my cock and put your mouth on me. You’ve got five seconds. Five…four…”
Youngjae scrambles to do as he’s told. His fingers grip at the waistband of Daehyun’s pants, and he unbuttons and unzips with a second left to spare. At zero, in a panic, he dives forward and swallows down Daehyun’s cock, all the way, nose pressed to Daehyun’s trimmed pubic hair.
Daehyun’s hand catches the back of Youngjae’s head. The sudden tight wet heat of Youngjae’s mouth makes Daehyun’s stomach ripple, and he lets out a shaky breath, petting Youngjae’s hair. “Easy…” he whispers, reminding Youngjae to settle, just like he did before.
Youngjae sputters and gags. His eyes blink open, and he looks up at Daehyun with a wrinkled brow and more tears carving tracks down his cheeks.
“Breathe through your nose and calm down,” Daehyun says firmly. “We warmed up for this.”
Youngjae swallows around Daehyun, takes a long breath through his nose, and closes his eyes. Daehyun can feel him suppressing his gag reflex, the way his muscles shake inside. After two more breaths, Daehyun starts to drag him by his hair on his cock, using his mouth like a freshlight. Daehyun’s not too far from cumming, considering all this anticipation and build-up, but he doesn’t want to climax too quickly, so he sets himself an easy rhythm, a slow swinging, back and forth.
He missed this so much. Nothing feels quite as good as earning Youngjae"s submission.
His orgasm catches him like a hook around his belly, and he just barely pulls out before spattering his cum across Youngjae’s face and into his waiting, open mouth. A gob of cum drips from Youngjae’s hair. Daehyun yanks him up and smashes their mouths together, tasting his release on Youngjae’s tongue. He keeps a grip on the back of Youngjae’s neck, noticing Youngjae is trying to keep himself from straddling Daehyun’s thigh. Daehyun laughs into the kiss, and Youngjae pulls back, looking wretched.
“Haven’t you come yet?” Daehyun teases.
“Want you to fuck me,” Youngjae whispers.
Daehyun strikes Youngjae’s cheek with his palm, quick as a snake, and Youngjae gasps, eyes welling up, before throwing his arms around Daehyun’s shoulders and sinking into Daehyun’s lap, knees on either side of Daehyun’s waist on the bed.
“Want you to fuck me, sir,” Youngjae begs. “Please…”
Daehyun wraps his arms securely behind Youngjae and contemplates making Youngjae rut against him until he orgasms, humiliated and untouched. Youngjae’s dick, leaking pre-cum through his pants, digs into Daehyun’s belly. He remembers what Youngjae said about opening himself up in the shower, though, and decides that’s worthy enough to give Youngjae some of what he wants.
“Get on the bed,” Daehyun says. “On the towel. Ass up, face down. Ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…”
The countdown spurs Youngjae into action. He leaps off Daehyun and onto the mattress, tugging at the towel Daehyun is still sitting on. Daehyun stands, allowing Youngjae access. Youngjae wipes the spit from his chest and neck with the towel before spreading it out and lying down on his belly. After a brief pause, he shoves his pants down to his knees and lifts his ass into the air, dick jutting up between his legs and bouncing off his stomach. He turns his face to Daehyun, eyes so bright and eager that Daehyun has to laugh again. Youngjae pouts and wiggles his ass.
“All before I reached zero, Private,” Daehyun acknowledges. He climbs back onto the bed, bringing the lube and plug from the nightstand with him. “You enjoy being trained?”
“Yes, sir,” Youngjae says.
“By me?”
“Yes, sir!” Youngjae chirps, flushed with anticipation. His tears haven’t even dried yet, but happiness shines out of his cheeks. Daehyun pats his left ass cheek affectionately, giving it a couple of gentle taps and then one stinging one. Youngjae yelps, flinching.
“Put your face into a pillow,” Daehyun orders. “I don’t want to see your eyes.”
Youngjae does so. Already, his thighs are shaking. Daehyun settles himself cross-legged behind Youngjae’s body to appreciate the view, grabbing the backs of Youngjae’s thighs and stroking the trembling muscle. Youngjae takes great care to shave and tweeze, and he is hairless here, all smooth, soft skin. Feeling playful, Daehyun leans forward and kisses the mound of Youngjae’s right ass cheek, and then he bites him hard.
Youngjae yelps again, the sound muffled into the pillow. His dick jumps and spurts out clear pre-cum. Daehyun releases the bite and rubs his palm over the abused flesh, feeling it heat under his skin.
He takes a moment to appreciate what the army did for Youngjae’s body. Youngjae has thickened with muscle, his arms toned and defined, his ass firmer than Daehyun remembers. It makes Daehyun want to bite him again, so he does in the same spot, sure this time that it will leave a bruise.
Youngjae whimpers into the pillow, trembling.
Daehyun strokes a hand down Youngjae’s back, shushing and soothing him. He uncaps the lube with nimble fingers and drizzles it without warning between Youngjae’s cheeks, down his cleft, liberal with it so that it drips from his balls onto the towel. Youngjae bites a moan into the pillow.
“You look loose, boy,” Daehyun says. The lube coats Youngjae’s puckered hole. Daehyun presses the tip of his finger against the furl and it easily sinks in up to his second knuckle. He draws the finger out and adds another, and it is just as easy. Youngjae’s hips push back, but Daehyun stays him with his other hand splayed against the back of one thigh. “You take what I give you,” Daehyun reminds him. “Nothing more.”
Youngjae says nothing, but the sound he makes into the pillow is like a petulant huff. Daehyun scissors his fingers and draws them out, and Youngjae collapses onto his stomach with a groan.
“Up, or I stop,” Daehyun says.
Youngjae reassumes his position, but he is less stable in it, body shaking like he can’t help it. Daehyun presses two fingers into Youngjae again and flutters them inside of him, knowing that for Youngjae, everything down here is sensitive, prostate or not. “You ready for my cock?” Daehyun asks.
Youngjae moans and says something like, “yessirready,” slurred into the pillow.
Daehyun takes out his fingers, picks up the plug, and drizzles it with lube. Then he nudges the tip against Youngjae’s stretched hole. Youngjae lurches and gasps, hole tightening. Daehyun grips him with his free hand, digging his fingers into the meat of Youngjae’s thigh. “Still,” Daehyun orders.
“But—” Youngjae cries. “Sir, I want—”
“Quiet,” Daehyun hisses, and he nudges the plug into Youngjae. “Don’t you remember that I don’t care what you want?” The flared base catches against Youngjae’s rim and sits nicely between his cheeks. Youngjae’s shoulders shake as his crying intensifies. Daehyun aligns himself behind Youngjae on his knees and wraps a hand around Youngjae’s stiff, leaking cock. His dick rests against Youngjae’s ass. “I’ll fuck you when I feel like it.”
He strokes Youngjae’s cock hard and fast, keeping Youngjae’s shuddering body under him, locked in the cage of his arms. Youngjae groans and writhes, enduring the rough treatment. He alternates between begging for Daehyun’s cock and begging to be allowed to cum, words blending and blurring, until it’s just “pleasepleasepleaseplease!” and with a jolt, he climaxes, the orgasm like it is forced out of Youngjae with all the suddenness and ferocity of being shoved off a cliff. Youngjae screams into the pillow and then collapses again, hips working, Daehyun’s hand trapped between his body and the mattress.
It is a lot.
Daehyun lays himself over Youngjae, feeling the tremors in Youngjae’s body slowly melt into stillness, but he can hear Youngjae still sniffling, still crying, and he kisses the back of Youngjae’s neck, which is damp with sweat. “Breathe,” Daehyun says gently. “I’m here, and I love you. I can still fuck you if that’s what you want.”
Youngjae chuckles underneath him, and Daehyun smiles, kissing the back of Youngjae’s shoulder this time.
“You did really well, baby,” Daehyun says. “Always so impressed with what you can handle.”
“Can you just hold me for a little bit?” Youngjae asks in a small voice.
“Yes,” Daehyun says, rearranging them, knowing exactly what Youngjae wants. To be facing each other, Youngjae’s ear on Daehyun’s chest, Daehyun’s arms tight around Youngjae’s body, so tight Youngjae can hardly breathe. Daehyun drops a kiss to the top of Youngjae’s head every once in a while, just to remind Youngjae he’s there and can do whatever Youngjae needs.
“I love you,” Youngjae says after a couple of minutes have passed. His voice sounds like he’s been swallowing sandpaper. “That was really fun.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, especially when you slapped me around. You know I can never get enough of that.”
“Yeah, but you have to deserve it,” Daehyun says.
Youngjae laughs softly and curls up more in Daehyun’s arms. “Never a problem for me.”
“You want me to take the plug out?”
“Nah,” Youngjae sighs. “Maybe you can fuck me tonight while I’m sleeping, Sargeant Jung.”
Daehyun’s dick jumps at the idea, and his face warms, because how did Youngjae see right through him? “Yeah…maybe…”
They clean up a little, as much as their exhausted bodies allow them to. Daehyun makes Youngjae gargle warm salt water to soothe his throat and promises him free face massages on demand for the next month. Then they fall asleep tangled together, warm under the blankets.
.
“Daehyunnie! Daehyunnie, Daehyunnie! Daehyunnie!”
Youngjae’s voice rises above the hustle and bustle of their backstage concert preparations like that of a yowling cat. Daehyun sighs in the makeup chair where his stylist has just finished clipping and setting his hair with hairspray. “Does he think we can’t hear him, or something?” he asks his stylist. She laughs and says, “Better go see what he wants.”
He finds Youngjae on the couch in the break room, dressed in the first white outfit for their show. Jongup sits beside him, engrossed in something on his phone.
“What?” Daehyun asks, approaching the couch.
“My face hurts,” Youngjae says, pouting up at Daehyun and fluttering his lashes. “Massage!”
“Here?” Daehyun’s eyes dart around the small room. Their staff mill about, focused on their tasks outside of this room, but there"s one staff inside with a camera. “You’ll ruin your makeup,” Daehyun tries.
“It’s not finished yet anyway,” Youngjae says with a smirk. “You think this is my face with makeup on?”
Now that Daehyun is looking more closely, he can see a few blemishes on Youngjae’s jawline. But wow, shouldn’t he get points for not really being able to tell? “You’re just so pretty,” Daehyun says through bared teeth. Jongup’s eyes flick toward them, but whatever game he’s playing on his phone must be way more interesting, because he just says, “Just don’t start making out please.”
“Jongup! Not in front of the cameras!” Youngjae laughs.
“What? They’ll edit it out. Look—” he finds the camera and stares straight into it, and the staff person behind the lens giggles “—do you see what we have to put up with? It’s worse when we’re in private.”
“Not true, we’re so considerate,” Youngjae says.
“ ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten meat Daehyunnie grilled,’ ” Jongup mocks, referring back to one of the first dinners they had together after Youngjae’s return.
“But it had been a long time!” Youngjae points out.
“You guys were in the bathroom for like twenty minutes after that,” Jongup says. “It’s gross. I mean—the bathroom ?”
“You think that’s gross? Let me tell you why Daehyunnie owes me a face massage whenever—”
“Okay, time to be quiet,” Daehyun interrupts, feeling his ears start to heat up. Youngjae’s eyes glitter in silent laughter as Daehyun manhandles him to sit with his back against the armrest so that Daehyun can stand behind him. He cups Youngjae’s cheeks in his palms, tilting his face up.
“Ugh, I don’t want to know,” Jongup grumbles, standing up to leave. “I’m going to find Yongguk hyung.” The staff person with the camera follows Jongup out of the room, leaving Daehyun and Youngjae alone.
“You’re horrible,” Daehyun says to Youngjae. He smoothes his fingers up the sides of Youngjae’s jaw, applying gentle pressure.
Youngjae relaxes into the touch, a faint smile on his lips. “Yeah, maybe you should do something about it,” he suggests.
.