Archive of Our Own ^beta

Korean cuisine is loaded with spicy food. Everyone knows this—everyone and their mothers. Soondubu jjigae, budae jjigae, buldak, jjamppong, tteokbeokki, and they’re all foods that the Ateez members have regularly, being Korean themselves. It’s become such a natural part of food consumption, nobody ever bats an eye at whether something is spicy or not when they make lunch and dinner plans.

Hongjoong remembers watching an episode of Hot Ones back during the early days of his career and thinking, ‘how on earth can anyone eat something that spicy?’ He had thought about all the food he’s ever had and wondered if any of them were ever hot enough like that to bother him. The effects always appeared as a gentle tingling on his tongue and at the back of his throat, and nowhere enough for him to need to fan himself or rush to the fridge, seeking for milk—anything to get rid of the burn.

Perhaps the level of spiciness found commonly in most Korean foods is mild to medium, enough for them to know it’ll sting, but not enough for it to bring forth any pain, which is fine—it’s great, it’s how it always has been and it’s not like Hongjoong has anything against spicy food. In fact, he loves it too.

But fuck, he does not love it like Park Seonghwa.

Hongjoong would never have been so concerned about the entirety of Korean cuisine and its level of spiciness if Seonghwa’s love for spice did not extend further than what even the limitless cognition of a human brain can comprehend.

It really was never like this in the beginning. The first time he had taken notice of it had been when Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Wooyoung had gone out to get ramen. It was a spot they often frequented as trainees because it was rather cheap for the amount of chump change they had in their pockets, and they opened pretty late.

Despite the fact that it had been two in the morning, it was packed with people, and they were the last group to fill out the restaurant’s maximum capacity for the next fifteen minutes.

Everyone always ordered their usual here, too tired from their day as hardworking idols to bother with finding excitement in a new menu item especially since they had just had their recent comeback, but Seonghwa had spent a suspiciously long time eyeing the words on the poster behind Hongjoong’s head. It read, in bright, bold red letters, ‘Spice it up! Take it from a spice level one to a spice level five!’

When Seonghwa went to order, he had asked for a spice level three.

“Isn’t that too spicy?” Wooyoung had asked after their server had left.

Seonghwa shrugged, head tilted down with his bangs falling flat over his forehead. “I kind of want to try it.”

“It’s already pretty spicy as is, why didn’t you just try spice level two?”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa answered, and the way he had said it sounded so genuine nobody really knew what to say after. “I guess I’m just craving something really spicy right now.”

He had eaten it well, at least.

A couple of months after that, Hongjoong had walked into the kitchen to see a bottle of tabasco in Seonghwa’s hands being shaken vigorously into a dipping plate, a variety of banchan laid out on the counter next to a steaming bowl of rice.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong had asked, feet feeling as though they’ve been cemented into the ground.

Seonghwa had looked up in surprise, pouty lips pink as he set the bottle down with a sigh. “Why do they make the hole so freaking small? Took me forever to get it out,” he grumbled, hands on his hips before directing his attention back onto Hongjoong. “Sorry. Did you need something?”

Hongjoong blinked as his body started to work normally again. His hands closed over the fridge door handle before pulling it open for a bottle of water. “Uh, no. I was just… When did you get that?”

“Get what?” Seonghwa asked, confusion spread across his features.

“The… hot sauce.”

“Oh!” Seonghwa picked it back up and stared at it in contemplation. “I got it earlier today. I saw a Tiktok saying it was really good with bean sprouts, so I wanted to try it.”

From where Hongjoong was standing, he could see the red sauce in the dipping plate, filled nearly to the brim. The tiny bottle of tabasco in Seonghwa’s hands looked almost half used already.

“Isn’t that too much?” he asked, closing the door gently to step closer. He’s had tabasco before. He doesn’t remember it being exactly super spicy—really, really good with raw oysters, though, but that’s all he’s had of it.

Seonghwa had shrugged, surprising Hongjoong. “It’s fine. I think I can finish it.”

In about four days, the bottle of tabasco was empty.

“Is your spice tolerance growing?” Hongjoong asked one day when they were out for pho. It had just been the two of them, and he couldn’t help his growing curiosity about it because in the past few months, Hongjoong has seen Seonghwa consume more spicy food than he’s ever had in the past, and that’s saying quite a bit, considering they’ve known each other for so long.

They’ve both already placed their orders, and the kind, half-Korean, half-Vietnamese lady that ran the noodle place had just brought out a plate of bean sprouts, basil leaves, limes—and two, tiny Thai chilis.

Seonghwa had asked right away if Hongjoong wanted his.

“I don’t think so,” Seonghwa responded, lips wet after running his tongue over it. “I’ve just been really enjoying spicy food lately.”

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it, silly,” Hongjoong said, leaning back into his chair. “As long as you like it, then it’s cool. But those are really spicy, you know? Are you sure?”

“Mm,” Seomghwa hummed, nodding. “I like it. I don’t know where it came from, but lately, I just wanna feel the burn.” He spoke animatedly, hands coming up to a gesture in front of his face, like he was about to tell Hongjoong a big, startling secret about himself. “I want it so spicy it hurts.”

From the corner of his eye, Hongjoong saw the little lady bring out two bowls of pho on a tray much larger than her own torso. “Well, if that’s what you like,” he said, surrendering. He never thought he’d hear Seonghwa say it with his own mouth, but even after he did, it was still so hard to wrap his head around. He liked the burn? The pain? The kind that brought tears down his face like how all the celebrities looked on that chicken wing and hot sauce eating show on YouTube?

Seonghwa had bit into the pepper before he even took a sip of the broth. In less than a minute, Hongjoong was staring at a red-faced, panting Seonghwa. He shoveled noodles into his mouth, then swallowed them only to take a deep breath and an even deeper exhale, lips turning plump and almost crimson from all the heat he had taken. Then, he bit into the chili again.

Hongjoong had to force his eyes off the other man because he didn’t know what to think. He’s never known another person in his life who liked spice to the point that it hurts, but he had figured it can’t be that uncommon. Could it be unhealthy? Maybe, but he knew Seonghwa to not be someone who didn’t take care of his own health.

It started like that. These days, Hongjoong has the visual of Seonghwa with his lips parted and red and glistening with saliva imprinted into the forefront of his brain when he falls asleep.

Even worse, it’s all he thinks about when he’s in the shower, fisting his dick into his hand as he pumps himself to an orgasm. It’s gotten so bad to the point where he’s thought about giving up on ordering Korean takeout altogether, but even fucking fried chicken comes with spicy options. If they get McDonald’s that one time in a few months, Seonghwa will mix sriracha into his dipping sauce for his french fries. When they go to a Korean barbecue restaurant together, Seonghwa will ask for spicy dipping sauce.

No matter where they eat or where they go, Seonghwa will end up looking like he’s been fed an ungodly amount of aphrodisiacs with the way his cheeks grow pink, eyes teary, and mouth wet for more.

And Hongjoong feels like a fucking dog, because every time he masturbates, that Seonghwa is all his mind can conjure up as he comes, and he can’t help but think he’s been fucking trained to respond to Seonghwa’s spicy-eating habits by shoving a hand down his pants and stroking it until it’s sore to the thought of Seonghwa on his knees, mouth open and pretty like he’s ready to take a cumshot all over those red lips and wet lashes.

It’s getting to a point where Hongjoong cannot stop thinking about it. He can’t be in his studio without falling prey to his own daydreams. He can’t look at the Buldak ramen in their shared pantry without thinking about that one time he watched Seonghwa’s livestream from start to finish of him eating the noodles.

Everyone in the comments had asked him about which tinted lip balm he used for his lips to be that colour when Hongjoong knows the reality of it is just fucking capsaicin. And Seonghwa had the audacity to consider a spicy lip balm as a natural lip plumper while he was live, too—Hongjoong had crumbled right then and there.

It meant that Seonghwa knew what all the spiciness was doing to him; he knew it made him flush beautifully, he knew his lips turned such a kissable shade of red, and he knew how swollen his lips got. What he doesn’t know is the effect he has on Hongjoong, and it’s terrible.

He feels like he shouldn’t even be watching the way he is right now, sitting across from Seonghwa with the rest of the members around them. The spiciness is beginning to take its effects on his pretty features. They’ve all agreed on hot pot tonight, and Seonghwa had been so ecstatic about it, rambling on about how delicious the extra spicy Sichuan broth is going to be. When they brought it out, he couldn’t help the way his eyes had widened to saucers upon viewing the immense amount of Sichuan peppers bobbing and sloshing around in the broth as they set it down in front of him. It was such a dark shade of red, Hongjoong hadn’t known what to make of it.

Was it even edible? Was it not going to hurt his tummy?

Hongjoong had passed by the sauce bar earlier and internally groaned when he saw the chili oil, sate, and XO sauce, because he already knew they were going to go right into Seonghwa’s sauce bowl.

Now, he’s watching Seonghwa dip a puffed tofu into the sauce, and it comes out drenched in a soy sauce, vinegar and chili oil mix, cilantro, green onion, and minced garlic hanging off it before putting it into his mouth. The noise he makes is one Hongjoong is never going to forget until he’s popping daisies from the earth.

Why did he choose to sit here again? It had been impulsive, the way his hand shot out to grip the back of the chair when he had seen Seonghwa sliding into the booth, all the way to the other end of the table. Nobody really cared where they sat except for Wooyoung and San, who had squeezed themselves into the booth after Seonghwa.

Yunho nudges Hongjoong from next to him. “I think your beef’s gonna be overcooked.”

And shit, it is, but it still tastes better than he thought it would have because the way Seonghwa eats food always seems to whet his appetite like nothing else ever has. It’s like Seonghwa and his mukbangs. Hongjoong had asked Seonghwa about it once when he’d taken notice of how often Seonghwa watches them on his phone when he eats his meals alone at their little dining table at home.

“It’s appetizing,” Seonghwa had said so casually like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Hongjoong never understood the appeal until lately—well, as much as lately extends, because he suddenly can’t remember the last time he didn’t watch Seonghwa eat whenever they eat together.

Seonghwa sucks in a sharp inhale from across him.

“Can I try it?” Wooyoung asks from next to him, then dips his soup spoon into Seonghwa’s broth. The oily liquid fills it up, and a Sichuan pepper, almost black in colour, flows into the spoon, but Wooyoung dumps it out and tries again. It’s clear they all know he won’t be able to eat it.

Hongjoong watches curiously as Wooyoung sips it down, then pulls the biggest grimace his face can manage before coughing into his arm like it had gone down the wrong pipe.

Seonghwa sets his chopsticks down with a bang and turns to pour concern over Wooyoung, who hasn’t stopped coughing. “Are you okay? I didn’t think it would be that bad,” he says, a frown marring his face as he lifts a napkin up to dab at the corners of Wooyoung’s lips.

“Nothing’s spicy to you anymore, hyung,” San comments like he isn’t at all surprised by the outcome.

Actually, why isn’t anyone surprised? A glance around the table shows that no one except Hongjoong, really, is paying much attention to how Seonghwa’s soup broth compares to their own. No one has mentioned the fact that Seonghwa is the only one sitting here with a face so flushed it might be cause for concern had none of them known better.

Is it just Hongjoong? Is it his fixation? Has Seonghwa’s obsession with spiciness been such a gradual realization that no one else except him is bothered by it? Well, it’s not like Hongjoong is bothered, per se, but does no one else really not feel that chains around their neck, leading to wickedly slender fingers of the man breathing fire across from him?

Hongjoong’s eyes flicker back and forth between Wooyoung’s face and Seonghwa’s lips. When Wooyoung’s face is red and lips wet, it has no effect on him. When Seonghwa’s tongue swipes across his lower lip, Hongjoong feels his electricity zap through his veins. Wooyoung looks like he had just choked on a piece of food, but Seonghwa looks like he’s been teased with something he’s been so desperately yearning for, he’ll do anything for it.

“Joong?”

He jolts, blinking out of his thoughts as one of his chopsticks falls from his loose hold and clatters against the table. “Huh?” he asks, trying to regain his composure. He doesn’t know what he looked like when he had been deep in thought. Had he been zoning out? Was he staring?

“You were staring.”

Shit.

“Sorry,” he says, and he doesn’t really feel like lying, “I zoned out a bit.” Although, that isn’t exactly the truth, either. Seonghwa eyes him a little bit longer, but he doesn’t concern himself too much with it because Hongjoong refuses to make himself seem any less normal than how he actually feels.

Seonghwa uses his chopsticks to pick up half a bunch of enoki mushrooms, red soup broth dripping off the ends of it and back into the pot. Hongjoong tears his eyes away and down into his own pot just as the other man lifts it to his lips, unwilling to watch any longer.

He can’t continue living like this. Every day, he feels closer and closer to becoming like a madman because he can’t control his own thoughts around Park Seonghwa, and it feels like he’s in both heaven and hell when he squeezes his eyes shut at night and fall victim to what he thinks the other man will look like underneath him, what he’ll taste of when Hongjoong drags his tongue along his skin.

At some point, Hongjoong does stop enjoying his meal. He’s finished most of what’s in his broth, and he knows he can eat a little more than this despite how slow he usually eats, but he’s so distracted.

He’s so distracted, even as the phone in his face lights up with his Instagram open, as if whatever posts that are on his explore page can help take his mind off of the noises Seonghwa is making. He sucks in air through his teeth as though the cooling sensation will help with the burn of the heat, tongue heavy in his mouth as his eyes well up with tears.

That night, in the confines of his room, Hongjoong lays in his bed with his cock in his hands, red and angry about how it’s been teased the entire evening by a man who literally sleeps in the room across from his own. What else can he do besides running his thumb over the tip of his dick and pretending like it’s Seonghwa’s tongue gliding over it instead? He squeezes his eyes shut as he chokes out a broken moan half resembling the other man’s name, coming all over his hand and stomach.

It takes Hongjoong another week to finally say something to him. Well, he tries to, but dinner had Seonghwa inviting Wooyoung and San over, and they were past the threshold of the entrance seconds after a quick succession of knuckles rapping against the front door—and Hongjoong’s words had died on his tongue.

“I brought soju and beer!” Wooyoung exclaims at the dinner table, just big enough for the four of them, and sets them to cool in the fridge. He leaves one soju and two bottles of Cass on the table, where Seonghwa already has a burner set up for the buldak that he’s made.

“I told him not to,” San says with a pout while slipping into the seat next to Wooyoung’s. That leaves Hongjoong next to Seonghwa, and their knees bump as the longer-haired man scoots forward to fidget with the burner. It lights up in a rim of flames, and Hongjoong feels his blood ignite with it.

Wooyoung gives San a look as they’ve now gathered around. “But we want to drink. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, ‘cause I know you suck at drinking.”

“I don’t!” San exclaims, sitting up straighter to reach for the soju bottle, but Wooyoung beats him to it. “I’ll drink. I’ve gotten better at it.”

Their soju glasses sit together as Wooyoung pours clear liquid into them, and then they all take their first drink just as the sauce from the buldak has started to bubble from the heat.

Seonghwa leaves his chair to grab something from the fridge, and as he makes his way back to the table, Hongjoong finds he can’t stop looking at it. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen that in there before. His jaw drops, the darkness of his eyes tracking the bottle all the way back to the dining table.

“What is that?” he asks warily, and he doesn’t know if he sounds appalled, curious, or both. The solution is so dark, when he swallows his spit, he can imagine how it’d feel sliding down his throat.

Seonghwa seems excited to answer, holding up the brand new bottle of something and showcasing it like he’s about to speak poetry about what bottle of red wine they’ll be having tonight.

“This is pure capsaicin,” he says giddily, lip curling between his teeth to stop his smile from spreading too wide.

Hongjoong chokes on his own spit.

“It’s supposed to be really spicy, so I’m only going to use a little.” Everyone stares at him, unmoving and wordless until Seonghwa rolls his eyes and pulls his dipping plate closer to him with two fingers on the edge. “In my own plate, obviously.”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says with a tremble, “I don’t think… Isn’t that—isn’t that too much? Aren’t you going to get a stomachache after?”

Seonghwa is a monster. He must be, because he says, “Yeah, probably, but I don’t care. It’ll probably taste so good,” and proceeds to pop the bright red lid off to remove the seal before popping it back on to squeeze one, two, and three drops, and then some more out onto his sauce plate. “The burn is worth it.”

“Oh my god,” Wooyoung breathes out, eyes wide. “No—there needs to be an intervention.” He grabs the bottle out of Seonghwa’s hands to inspect the ingredients on the back, then cringing when he catches a whiff of the smell. “It’s stinging my eyes!”

“I know,” Seonghwa says with little remorse. “I think I have a problem.”

Huh. He admits it just like that, before Hongjoong even gets to say anything, and he had made such a big, grand scenario of a deal about it in his own mind, when he could have just walked up to Seonghwa and asked him what the fuck has been going on. He swears he’s the only one who’s made it into something more significant than it really is, but it’s not like he can help it.

“This is more than a problem,” Hongjoong says, determined to finally be able to speak his mind. “You’re obsessed with it.”

“I know,” Seonghwa whines, pouting into his so-maek mix that San has made everyone. “I didn’t want it to become like this, but I swear nothing tastes good anymore unless it’s spicy.”

“Really spicy,” Hongjoong corrects, and he bites his tongue because he’s afraid he’ll say more than what he should if he continues like this.

Seonghwa picks at a piece of chicken, coated in mozzarella cheese and sprinkled with dried parsley flakes, and dips it slowly into the darker-than-blood goop of a ‘hot sauce’ (Hongjoong doesn’t even know if anyone can call it that, solely because it’s a straight fucking irritant to the human body, probably) before bring it up to his mouth to pop the entire thing in his mouth.

It’s hot. It’s got to be. It’s spicy and hot and fresh off the cast iron pan. It must burn, Hongjoong thinks, watching as Seonghwa eats through it with quick consecutive exhales through his mouth. His eyes have teared up immediately, and Hongjoong’s own refuse to look away from him.

Wooyoung and San have already started digging in, and Hongjoong’s partially working brain supplies him with the bare minimum of information needed to not feel lost in conversation—something about increased metabolism, and something about cardiovascular disease.

“Really?” Seonghwa asks. “Maybe it’s not—” he sucks in sharply through his teeth, “not such a bad thing after all.”

There’s that part of Seonghwa’s spice consumption that he’s forgotten to mention as well. He slurs his words. He fucking slurs his words like he’s drunk, tongue not working the same way as when he’s almost down two bottles of soju. His eyes grow lidded, head dizzy like he can’t think about anything except the numbing at the back of his throat and haziness in his brain.

“Yeah, says here,” Wooyoung says and turns his phone around for everyone to see. ‘Top Five Benefits of Spicy Foods’ or whatever, because Hongjoong had barely caught a glimpse of it before his gaze is dragged back onto the chopsticks in Seonghwa’s hands, reaching for the dakgalbi again.

“Eat,” he says passively, setting chicken, radish, and potato onto Hongjoong’s bowl of rice. It’s been sitting untouched for long enough that the starch from the rice have started to form a film overtop all the grains. “But aren’t I eating…” he sucks in a breath sharply here, “too much of it?”

Yes, Hongjoong wants to say, not that he actually knows if there really is any likelihood of danger, but for his own sake, he really wishes Seonghwa can consider him and stop eating it so much. That will mean that Seonghwa will have to know why, for his sake.

“Um… for risk factors…? Well—cramping? Vomiting? Diarrhea?”

Hongjoong forces his eyes closed, finally tuning into the conversation. Why are they talking about diarrhea? “Let’s not, you guys.”

“Stomach ulcers?” San reads, surprised at at all the risks. Concern seeps through his voice. “That’s really serious, right?”

Hongjoong knows Seonghwa has a problem, but at least he isn’t eating like this every day and for every meal. It exists for a reason, and he doesn’t think Seonghwa’s problem has more to do with his health than it does with his sanity.

“Okay,” Hongjoong says, putting a pause on the discussion. “That’s enough. Too much alcohol can kill you too, but I don’t see anyone complaining.”

Wooyoung blinks, shot glass in hand, then purses his lips into a straight line. He sniffs, then exclaims, “Okay! Cheers,” fully ignoring what Hongjoong had said, but at least he takes note of the edge in Hongjoong’s words, and their conversation heads in a different, much more courteous direction. One that’s suitable for a meal.

Kind of.

“You know what I found in Yunho’s room yesterday?” Wooyoung says suddenly, beer glass hitting the table harder than he probably means to. Seonghwa’s listening as he chews, cheek puffed out from the foot in his mouth. His lips are still very red and very wet, glistening with a mixture of spit and oils. It should be gross, but it isn’t, and there’s so many things wrong with that.

Again, he feels like a dog.

“I found porn.”

Everyone stills because no one had expected Wooyoung to outright say something like that. Seonghwa stops chewing and swallows everything that had been in his mouth. “So?” he asks, unsure of what the big deal is. “Isn’t that normal?”

“What? No way! I mean, I watch it, but it’s not like I have a physical stash of it. Do you have a stash?”

“No. Hongjoong might.”

“What?” Hongjoong cuts in, appalled. “Why would I have something like that?”

Seonghwa sucks in another long breath, and Hongjoong can see moisture gathering at his nostrils. “I don’t know. You seem like the type that would keep porn magazines.”

Hongjoong doesn’t need porn magazines. He has all the porn he needs in his head. He looks at Seonghwa pointedly, as though he’s unimpressed with the older man’s comments. “Well, I don’t. I don’t watch porn either.” He pauses, breath held as his mind buffers. “Wait, what do you mean I ‘seem like that type of person?’ What do I seem like?” he asks, taking slight offense to it.

“Why are we talking about this?” San asks timidly, cheeks flushed. It could be from the alcohol or their topic of conversation, there’s really no way of telling because San probably has the worst Asian flush out of all of them, and they’re already a few drinks in.

Much to Hongjoong’s dismay, everyone passes over San’s question, and Seonghwa doesn’t seem interested in replying either.

“Don’t lie!” Wooyoung exclaims like he’s somehow been personally attacked. “Everybody watches porn! There’s some really good stuff out there if you look, you know?”

“Stop,” Hongjoong says, waving his hand in front of his face as if that’ll dismiss their entire discussion. “I am not going to start watching porn.” He distracts himself with the chicken that Seonghwa has just added to the small dent in his bowl of rice. Why is he always feeding him?

Wooyoung continues speaking while also dropping food into San’s bowl, already almost empty. “Anyways, as I was saying, I found a stash of pornos on Yunho hyung’s bed,” he says, giggling with a hand over his mouth. Hongjoong can’t imagine it’s that funny, but Wooyoung is the type to find humour in everything, so he says nothing. “It was just sitting right there on his bed! It’s hard to not see it passing by. It didn’t seem like he was trying to hide it or anything either. And guess what?”

Nobody says a word. Hongjoong peeks over at Seonghwa to see if he’s maybe still listening, but he can’t really tell with the way the other man’s head hangs low, mouth open like he’s conscious of the way he’s breathing—like he has to manually suck a breath in and release it back out—strands of his long hair clinging  to the back of his neck from working up a sweat.

“There were also condoms.”

Seonghwa exhales through the little opening his mouth has created, and then he opens wide like he can attempt to cool it like that. His eyes are half-lidded as he rolls his pupils from one spot on the table to another. He looks like he’s fucking high.

“It’s really… really spicy,” he slurs suddenly, interrupting the conversation like he had forgotten they were in the middle of one, and then he swallows so hard, Hongjoong sees his throat bob. Seonghwa’s mouth falls open again, chest heaving while panting as he desperately looks around for something, and then his hand is suddenly clasping around his glass of cold soju and beer mix. Hongjoong grimaces while watching Seonghwa drink it down because he can’t imagine the carbonation would feel really nice when your mouth is on fire.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa curses, eyes watering as the burn hasn’t gone away. His lips are swollen and his mouth hangs open like his tongue is too big for it. He rests his elbows on the table to support the weight of his head, fingers against his temples and thumbs resting under his jaw. He looks… debauched —eyes rolling up while blinking slowly, lashes wet with tears, and…

“Y-you’re drooling,” Hongjoong stammers out, and he has no idea what the fuck comes over him because he’s suddenly reaching out to swipe the back of his fingers under Seonghwa’s lips, and as he pulls away it pulls with him sticky saliva, the strand snapping back onto the other man’s lower lip.

Wooyoung and San are looking at him, Hongjoong knows; he can feel their stares on him even though he hasn’t taken his eyes off Seonghwa for even a split fucking second, and he quickly wipes his hand on his napkin. The spot where saliva had just been coating his finger tingles, and Hongjoong is not too sure anymore if it’s actually from the capsaicin.

Seonghwa opens his eyes and looks straight at Hongjoong, who fears for a moment that all his deepest and dirtiest secrets are written all over his face from the way those inky, sultry eyes pin him down in his place. He’s frozen, heart thumping so hard in his ribcage it’s all he hears in his ears.

Why is he looking at him like that? Like he’s tugging on those chains, fingers luring him closer, and Hongjoong fucking swears he sees the corners of Seonghwa’s lips twitch upward, but they’re gone in the next second as Wooyoung is rushing to lift a glass of water to that sinful mouth.

It takes a few moments for Seonghwa to come back to himself, but the effects of the capsaicin hasn’t gone away, not even a little bit. The tips of his ears are red, and his nose and cheeks and lips are red—he’s red like the all the goddamn hot sauce he eats. There’s a sheen of sweat over his skin, and it glistens under the glow of the yellow light illuminating the dining and kitchen area.

He gets up with a scrape of his chair against the floor and moves to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, but not before swaying from a slight stumble, like he can’t even walk properly.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks, legs tense from not knowing whether he should get up to help him or stay rooted to his seat.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa responds with a cough into his arm. He sniffles and exhales through his mouth. “Just dizzy.” He sips the water before making his way back to his spot at the dining table, then picks up his chopsticks.

“You’re going to eat more?” Hongjoong asks even though he should have known by now. Seonghwa loves it. Nothing else probably compares to what he just felt, the firecrackers at the back of his head, explosions on his tongue and his mouth, that full body reaction like he’s just taken the strongest aphrodisiac known to humankind—it’s all that he’s ever wanted.

It’s disgusting, and Hongjoong is obsessed with him, to the point where he feels like he’s fighting the biggest battle of his life inside of him. He can’t stop Seonghwa from finishing his dinner like this; he can’t say anything without letting himself go, but he also doesn’t know if he wants to.

Not when Seonghwa looks this good, right in front of him, right in their own apartment. Hongjoong glances over at Wooyoung and San, who’ve been conversing about something he put zero percent of his consciousness into. He’s really fucking lost it. He’s so consumed by his own thoughts he feels disconnected from reality, like he’s completely forgotten how to act like a human being.

The rest of dinner is of both misery and torture. At least the conversation about porn has died down. Seonghwa cries through it though, his napkin all wrinkly from constantly patting his cheeks dry. At some point, it’s more wet with salted tears than from buldak sauce, and Hongjoong uses all the strength he has left in his mind and body to not watch him as he eats through the burn. It hurts and he’s still eating, he’s sniffling and he’s still chewing, and he imagines Seonghwa’s skin is so hot to the touch considering the sweat that has gathered on his neck and his temples.

Hongjoong doesn’t even know when they’ve finished their dinner. When he looks down, his bowl of rice is empty, gochujang sauce coating the sides of it, and it reminds him so intensely of how spicy it already is on its own.

Seonghwa leans into the back of his chair, head lolled backwards to rest on top of the top rail, and he closes his eyes. He looks like he’s drunk too much, head rolling side to side slowly like it’ll help rid the tingling sensation from the spice. He brings the back of his hand up to his cheeks, pressing it there to feel the heat, and then to his forehead to brush his hair out of his face.

There’s a stinging on Hongjoong’s tongue that persists as they all get up to drop everything in the sink and clear the table to move to the living room instead. Seonghwa loiters a little, hands on the counter as he’s leaned over, head hung low. He looks like he’s battling something Hongjoong wants no part of, but at the same time, the flush on his cheeks and shoulders are an invitation to him on their own.

“I’m dizzy,” Seonghwa slurs quietly. Wooyoung and San have already moved, leaving them alone in the kitchen. He breathes heavily and shakes his head slowly. Hongjoong still can’t believe Seonghwa enjoys this.

“Maybe it’s too much?” Hongjoong offers, not entirely sure what to say. He knows the other man won’t listen anyway, because he’s pushing himself off and stumbling a little, hands now rested on his hips.

“No, no. It’s good. I like it like this. Spicy—” he coughs a little, fist raised to his mouth as his eyes tear up from how he’s squinting, “it’s best when it’s like this.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrow. He’s never had spicy food to the point of being dizzy before. “It makes you dizzy?”

Seonghwa swallows wetly and gestures to his face unenthusiastically—or maybe he’s too loopy to focus. “Yeah, like, my brain feels fuzzy. My hands are numb.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Feels like… I can’t really think.”

“And you… like that?”

Seonghwa straightens out and blinks a few times to correct his vision, then nods furiously. “Yeah. It feels good.”

What he means is that he likes feeling high and disoriented, at least it’s what Hongjoong is getting from it, and it’s really doing things to his brain. If Seonghwa likes his brain chemistry altered with spicy food, then Hongjoong might indulge in how Seonghwa alters his brain chemistry.

“How?” he asks anyways.

“It’s the endorphins,” Seonghwa replies, stepping past Hongjoong, and Hongjoong follows him like a dog. “It also releases dopamine. Isn’t that crazy? It hurts, but it feels so good too.”

He supposes if there’s a scientific explanation for it, but it’s still difficult to accept. Maybe Hongjoong just won’t get it because he’s not interested in the pleasure that comes with the pain of burning his mouth off. He eyes the back of Seonghwa’s head as he leads them towards the living room. Bottles of soju and beer sit on their coffee table. Seonghwa sits next to Hongjoong on the couch while Wooyoung and San sit on floor cushions on the other side, facing them.

San’s humming along to a song that Seonghwa has put on from Spotify on TV, body swaying with the slow beat, and it’s clear which of the four of them have succumbed quickest to the liquid toxin. Seonghwa seems to act with a little more clarity now that he’s had time to cool off, but the flush from all their drinking hasn’t gone away. His skin is still warm when Hongjoong’s knee accidentally bumps into him, the touch sending sparks flying up his thigh all the way to his neck, and pink paints his cheeks so deliciously beautifully, he has to bite the insides of his mouth to try to rid the dirty thoughts from his mind.

“Don’t be mad,” Seonghwa suddenly says, big doe eyes growing serious enough for concern to slowly swell up in Hongjoong’s chest, but it deflates as realization settles in after the waterfall of words from the older man’s lips. “But I’ve been seeing this spicy shot trend on Tiktok.”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says, voice laced with an edge. There’s a fear that sits heavy in the pit of his stomach, threatening to spill as his understanding of Seonghwa’s obsession has full sinked in. Maybe it will spill with whatever Seonghwa might say next, so Hongjoong doesn’t give him the chance. “That’s too much.”

Wooyoung cuts in with a shrug and a, “I’ve seen it too. It’s supposed to taste pretty good depending on what you put in it. Wait—is it the kimchi one that you saw? I kinda wanna try it too! Should we try it?”

And it’s like Seonghwa hadn’t heard Hongjoong at all, hopping up from his seat to step over Hongjoong’s legs, and Hongjoong exhales shakily as an ass clad in grey, loose sweatpants crosses his vision. He can’t believe they’re serious about this.

It isn’t like he hasn’t seen the trend before either, it’s all over his Tiktok and Instagram. Actually, Seonghwa sent it to him two weeks ago, when Hongjoong had his cheek pressed into his pillow one night, half asleep. It’s obvious he didn’t feel as tired as he had just a minute before, which, fuck Park Seonghwa for that, really.

“Why?” Hongjoong asks when the older man returns, hot sauce and a tiny plate holding a few pieces of kimchi and its juice in hand. Is he the only one who thinks this is really weird? He looks at San, but he’s so lost in his own damn world, eyes to the lyrics on the screen rather than the major event that’s about to unfold behind his back.

“What?” Seonghwa retorts, settling down on the floor, right in front of Hongjoong between his legs as he tosses a glance of raised eyebrows and an invitation to elaborate over his shoulder. “Do you want to try too?”

“No, I don’t wanna fuckin’ try that,” says Hongjoong, arms crossed over his shoulder as Seonghwa has started to make his concoction. “Are we going to talk about this addiction of yours?”

“Isn’t it usually made with whiskey?” Wooyoung asks, and Hongjoong suddenly feels like he doesn’t exist.

“Yeah, but I don’t have whiskey. Soju should be fine, right?”

“Will it still be good, you think?”

“If it’s spicy, it’s good.”

Hongjoong begs, “Please. This is too much.”

“Wait! Isn’t that the hot sauce that fucking killed you earlier? Don’t give me that!”

“Young-ah, it’s fine. I’ll put the tiniest drop in yours.”

See? At least Wooyoung has some semblance of rationality. Hongjoong can understand using a tiny bit of that hot sauce to add some spice to something, but it’s not right for Seonghwa to be using it as a dip, never mind in alcohol! He actually thinks he’s losing his mind.

“Okay, ready?”

Hongjoong has to close his eyes, the sound of glassware clinking against each other reverberating in his mind, and he peeks open just in time to see the gulp down Seonghwa’s throat, body half turned so he can still see his face as he sets the soju glass on the coffee table.

The silence is terrible. Heat simmers deep in Hongjoong’s gut just as Seonghwa’s eyes fall shut to succumb to the feeling of the burn in his mouth. Clearly, he’s the only going through it, because Wooyoung’s eyebrows lift in surprise, like the shot they’d taken had actually been good.

“That wasn’t bad! It’s spicy, though.” Wooyoung sucks sharply against his teeth, then blows out air. “I can’t believe that was a drop,” he adds, and then bursts out in giggles at Seonghwa’s expression.

But there’s absolutely nothing funny about it, and it’s like dinner all over again. Seonghwa has to focus on his breathing, eyes so lidded Hongjoong doubts he’s seeing much of anything, and his head falls back onto Hongjoong’s thigh. His skin scorches him where it’s pressed to bare skin, lips red as the swell comes back to it, cheeks flushed as blood rushes to the surface, corners of his eyes wetting long, pretty lashes—and Hongjoong can see it all way too well from this angle above.

He bites down on the insides of his cheeks, fingers digging into the arm of the couch as something disgusting curls inside of him, a mixture of fear, anger, and lust threatening to erupt as it boils and bubbles over.

And suddenly Hongjoong is scoffing, words waterfalling from his lips as pins and needles take over every inch of his skin. “This is fucking insane. You have a problem, Park Seonghwa.”

He needs to shut the fuck up right now.

“Does no one else see this?” Even San has grown quiet at Hongjoong’s sudden outburst, shoulders curling in on himself as he’s half-turned to digest what’s going on.

Seonghwa’s eyes peek open, eyes rolling to the back of his head to meet Hongjoong’s heated stare. He says nothing, mind probably too fucked and cloudy from the numbness that has consumed him, and Hongjoong has to suck a sharp breath at the way his cock twitches in his shorts.

“This is ridiculous,” he breathes out, attention directed to the now very interesting bottle of soju. “Have you realized you refuse to eat unless it’s spicy? You don’t crave anything unless it’s spicy. Even very normal, very good food already, you have to go and ruin it by drenching it in hot sauce, and even when it is spicy, it’s not good enough until… until you’re like—like this!” Hongjoong exclaims, gesturing wildly at Seonghwa’s state.

“There’s something wrong with you if you need it so spicy you’re fucking drooling, Seonghwa. Are you even listening?” He leans over Seonghwa and can’t help the condescending expression on his face as his hand reaches down to run a thumb over the wet spot at the corner of plump lips. “Or are you so fucking out of it you can’t even use your brain?”

Seonghwa lets out a whimper at the touch, eyelids drooping even more, and the look he gives him—god, it’s so fucking erotic, Hongjoong wants to shove two fingers down on his tongue. He might as well, if Seonghwa’s tongue refuses to slip back inside that mouth.

“Okay,” Wooyoung whispers meekly, “I think we’re gonna go.”

Hongjoong hardly registers the door opening, hushed giggling in the hallways cutting out as it clicks shut with the automatic lock whirring to life.

“What are you doing to me?” Hongjoong asks quietly even though he knows Seonghwa probably won’t answer. Never mind the fact that the spice has him feeling like he’s lost in fog, but he’s been drinking too, and it makes him so fucking pliant like putty under Hongjoong’s touch that’s lingering on his jaw and neck, Seonghwa needs to say something now before Hongjoong does something he might regret.

“What am I doing to you?” he echoes back, voice laced with something sick and sweet, a nasty combination of both sin and innocence, and Hongjoong’s vision almost goes black when the tip of Seonghwa’s tongue grazes his thumb.

Hongjoong leans closer, head tilting to the side to really finally admire the other man in between his legs like this. The universe had crafted Park Seonghwa’s strong features with such gentle hands, and in their fingertips they had left behind the talents of seduction and temptation, and Hongjoong knows when to take a hint if it’s handed to him in the inky pools of come-hither eyes and magnetic touches.

“You look filthy, you know that?” he asks with a lilt, his thumb tracing along Seonghwa’s bottom lip, pressing into its plushness and letting go to watch it bounce back, redder than it had been before. Then, he slips it inside, the pad of his thumb tracing along a line of hard, white teeth, then deeper to meet the resistance of a hot, wet tongue.

Seonghwa’s reaction is immediate, eyes falling shut and lips closing around the intrusion. It’s disgusting, the way saliva pools at the back of his mouth and under his tongue, like it has nowhere to go except to gather around Hongjoong’s skin, and he’s enchanted.

“Hong—” and he’s pressing down harder into Seonghwa’s tongue, not letting him speak.

“I think you know exactly what you do to me,” he breathes out as his other hand comes to rest at Seonghwa’s neck, stretched with the tilt of his head, and he swears the other man knocks back harder into Hongjoong’s thigh, enticed by the touch.

He continues berating him, “Do you enjoy it? Teasing me like this?”

This time, Seonghwa turns his head to the side to pop Hongjoong’s thumb out of his mouth, and a trail of saliva connects to his lips, wetting it until it reflects pearls from the overhead lighting of their living room.

“Teasing you?” he repeats, a hint of defiance in his tone as he turns to face Hongjoong. Despite how he sounds, it completely betrays the way he looks, fully flushed from the neckline of his favourite black tank top up to his face. Even his shoulders are rosy, and Hongjoong wants to bite a mark into them. God, does he look debauched, like he’s been deprived of something for so long and it’s finally right in front of him. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Really?” Hongjoong asks, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe Seonghwa even a little bit. He’s bent at his waist, elbows resting on his thighs as he lifts a hand to drag fingernails up the side of Seonghwa’s neck, strands of black hair that have grown even longer over the months tickling his skin. Hongjoong has always loved how beautifully it frames his face.

“R-really,” he speaks, but Hongjoong doesn’t think it sounds convincing even to the other man.

“I don’t believe you,” Hongjoong says with a click of his tongue before suddenly retracting his touch. He can’t help how deliciously his stomach twists at the way Seonghwa’s expression falls, body leaning forward to chase the lingering coolness of Hongjoong’s palm.

Hands crawl up Hongjoong’s thighs and they’re not his because he has his arms crossed over his chest, fingernails digging into his own bicep as Seonghwa leans his head down on Hongjoong’s knee. His touch is light and tentative, like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to touch him despite the fact that he had just fucked his mouth with his thumb.

“What?” Hongjoong asks, tone chilly. “I said I didn’t believe you, but if that’s what you say.” He shrugs casually, gaze drifting off to the side, but Seonghwa’s hands don’t stop, heated fingertips dancing up his skin until they reach the hem of his shorts.

“Hongjoong.” A hot breath on his knee, and Hongjoong’s head snaps back towards Seonghwa’s direction only to feel before he even sees a wet tongue dragging flat across the goosebump skin on Hongjoong’s thigh.

“What are you doing now?” Hongjoong asks, breath catching at the back of his throat. He can’t disguise the way he feels, and he doesn’t even really need to because he’s right, Seonghwa has been doing it on purpose. Asking him on lunch dates and dinner dates only to make the most erotic faces in front of him, the need to send him every fucking video so long as it has hot chili peppers as an ingredient for the recipe, and vixen eyes holding him down when the heat festers just enough to get him blissed out, high from all the endorphins his brain releases.

It almost feels like a game, the way they stare at each other as Seonghwa’s fingers have started to caress the part of his thigh hidden underneath his shorts, Hongjoong’s cock coming to a tent right in front of the other man’s face.

Nobody makes a move further than that, Hongjoong’s shaky breaths and Seonghwa’s little kissing noises are the only sounds accompanying the slow music that’s still playing on the TV.

“Tell me what you want,” Hongjoong croaks out when Seonghwa gives a particularly hard bite over the red hickey he had just finished sucking into the milkiness of Hongjoong’s thigh.

“I’m sorry for teasing you,” Seonghwa says, voice dangerously low and it’s music to Hongjoong’s ears. He has always loved when the other man spoke in this octave. It’s shy and seductive at the same time, and he has never known what to do with himself.

Except now, he does. Hongjoong sits back and straightens out, hand reaching forward to guide Seonghwa up and onto his lap with a gentle touch under his chin, and it had been so easy, the way he barely needed to pressure him; the way Seonghwa just followed as if there were an invisible chain pulling on him.

“Kiss me,” Seonghwa whispers, hands resting on Hongjoong’s shoulders. He’s even taller like this, having to tilt his head down to meet the apple of Hongjoong’s cheek with the tip of his nose.

The kiss is messy right from the get-go, as Seonghwa pants into his mouth and Hongjoong sucks onto his lip. He doesn’t know what it is about the older male when he’s in a state like this, desperate for the smallest of touches, letting Hongjoong take full control like he’s nothing but a limp ragdoll for him to manoeuver.

It’s not like he’s sober either, but god, he is nothing like Seonghwa, whimpering wetly into him with Hongjoong’s hands on his face because he’s sure the other man might melt into him if he lets go now.

And maybe it’s fucked up that Hongjoong thinks it’s hot as fuck that Seonghwa is so dizzy with heat and spice and liquor that it renders him to this desperate mess of a man, but he cannot give a fuck about it because all he wants is to rolls his hips up into Seonghwa’s ass.

Hongjoong pulls away and Seonghwa’s forehead leans into the dip where his neck meets his shoulder. “Look at you,” Hongjoong says, hand coming up to cup Seonghwa’s cheek to tilt him back upright. “You’re a mess.”

Seonghwa watches him through glossy vision and clumpy lashes, eyes too lidded to really focus on the expression Hongjoong wears on his face, but he’s clearly mindful enough of the hardness underneath the swell of his ass as he grinds down onto the shorter man, and the shaky moan that comes out of him would have been embarrassing if he isn’t so horny.

The tongue that comes out to lick a stripe up the side of Hongjoong’s face is coated in wetness, and it ignites a memory from earlier, when Seonghwa had drooled into Hongjoong’s hand. He’s so fucking out of it, and it’s so fucking hot.

“You like it,” Seonghwa slurs into his ear, teeth nibbling gently on the skin over his jaw. He rolls his hips down again and Hongjoong lets him such a hickey into his neck because he now lacks the self-control he had for the past year. Now that he’s thinking about it, he doesn’t even know how the fuck he survived through it.

And he’d be lying if he disagreed, but Hongjoong doesn’t really feel like giving in now that he knows Seonghwa has been purposely putting him through hell for so long, so he moves the hand that had been caressing his face to rest his index and middle finger on Seonghwa’s lips, and god is he eager to take them into his mouth.

Instead, Hongjoong presses those two fingers right onto his tongue and he watches, amazed how Seonghwa melts under his touch, mouth slack and open for Hongjoong to do as he pleases.

He meets no resistance, wetness gathering between his fingers as he prods around and plays with his tongue, pressing deeper to watch Seonghwa choke around them a little before pulling out to wipe all the spit on his lips and chin.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whines, arms looping around Hongjoong’s neck. It feels like his name is the only thing the older man knows how to say, and he says it so well, with the flush high on his cheeks and skin glistening with his own saliva like he had been drooling all over himself.

“Take another shot,” Hongjoong whispers, cock aching under him. He wants so bad to just press the older man down and fuck him until he speaks nothing but nonsense and broken echoes of his name, but he wants to live out this fucked up fantasy just a little bit longer.

Seonghwa refuses to move, however, and plants his ass down on the stiffness underneath him, rolling forward and backward while littering wet kisses onto Hongjoong’s face. “Why?” he mumbles against his skin.

“Cause you’re so fucking hot like this,” Hongjoong tells him, finally giving in, because how can he not? When Seonghwa’s rutting against him like that, so pretty and pliant—so sweet and docile and obedient. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

At his words, Seonghwa leans back, swollen lip taken between teeth, and Hongjoong inhales sharply through his nose when he watches the other man let go of it slowly, the redness rushing back into his lip so fast he might’ve missed if he hadn’t been staring so intently.

It’s clear Seonghwa knows the effect he has on Hongjoong like this, because Hongjoong swears he sees the curl at the corners of his lips as he turns to reach backward, blindly looking for his shot glass without moving an inch from where he’s seated. He presses the shot glass, slightly wet and slightly red with whatever was leftover, into Hongjoong’s hands for him to hold before reaching for the opened bottle of soju and the freakishly dark hot sauce. Hongjoong finds he doesn’t bear too much hatred against it anymore.

Not when Seonghwa puts on a show for him, knocking the drink back with a backwards tilt of his head, throat bobbing as he swallows. Not when he crashes his lips against Hongjoong’s, the sound of the shot glass clinking as it lands somewhere on the rugged floor next to Hongjoong’s feet.

The kiss is hot. Hongjoong’s mouth tingles and burns as Seonghwa’s tongue presses up against his, and he’s so fucking hard from all the little whimpers and whines and breathy moans coming from the other man. It’s spicy, and if this is what Hongjoong feels just from the residual, he can’t imagine how Seonghwa is doing.

Seonghwa breaks away to suck air through his teeth, chest heaving with his breaths. “It’s hot,” he slurs, reaching for the bottom of his tank top, and it happens so fast Hongjoong’s mind barely has the time to comprehend the sudden skin on display, but his hands fall naturally on Seonghwa’s waist as if they’ve always belonged there.

Immediately, Seonghwa is leaning into Hongjoong’s space, mouth on mouth, mouth on cheek, spit on skin, and Hongjoong is known to take a hint when he’s given one—right on his lap, pretty and seductive. He kisses down Seonghwa’s neck, tilted easily to give him more access, and sucks little red marks into tan skin like it’s the only thing he can focus on.

Well, it is the only thing he can focus on, because Seonghwa deserves it. He deserves to be marked up by Hongjoong, somewhere where everyone can see; somewhere their makeup artists will have to struggle to hide with concealer. And when he sweats and it comes off? Let the whole fucking world see.

His skin is flushed all the way down to his chest where Hongjoong grazes his teeth against and indulges himself in the way Seonghwa shivers and tightens his grip over Hongjoong’s shoulders, like he doesn’t know whether he wants to push him away or pull him closer.

Seonghwa’s back arches beautifully when Hongjoong closes his mouth over one nipple, tongue pressed flat before biting down over his chest to leave faint teeth marks around the brown bud, and he grips Seonghwa tighter over the hip to stop him from squirming.

Hands claw against Hongjoong’s shirt, tugging gently like he wants it off but lacks the power to do so, and it’s so hot because he could easily pull it over his head but chooses not to, as though he’s asking for permission.

Hongjoong leans back, lips red and slightly swollen from the art he’s created out of Seonghwa, and slips his shirt off, tossing it somewhere to the side to deal with later, and the other man is instantly dragging nails over his chest, fingers dancing over the tattoo he has on his arm, from one end to the other, then down to the waistband of Hongjoong’s shorts.

“You wanna suck it?” Hongjoong asks casually and feels like his heart might explode at the obscene look of desperation that Seonghwa gives him, eyebrows furrowed like he needs it, lips quivering like they can’t wait to get him in his mouth.

“Please,” Seonghwa whimpers, rolling his hips forward and pressing both hands against Hongjoong’s naked chest.

The sound of the coffee table slipping off the rug and scraping against hardwood is loud when Hongjoong toes it forward and Seonghwa is immediately slinking back down onto the floor, knees digging into plush and hands pulling the rest of Hongjoong’s clothes off. They pool around his ankles before slipping one foot out, and it’s all that he can get done before Seonghwa is wrapping a hand around his leaking cock and leaning forward, tongue out and ready to give the sloppiest top of Hongjoong’s life.

But Hongjoong knocks his hand away and cups Seonghwa’s face, and he’s not as gentle as he intended to be. “No,” he says and watches with a disgusting satisfaction as Seonghwa’s eyes widen in surprise, saliva pooling under his tongue and mouth empty when he could have had a cock in it by now.

“Why?” he asks pathetically, the word coming out slightly distorted from the grip Hongjoong has against his cheek.

Slowly, Hongjoong jerks himself off, a simmering feeling of delight sitting deep in his gut at the image in front of him. Seonghwa can’t take his eyes off the movement of his hand, going cross-eyed as he watches Hongjoong’s hand stroke upward to the tip and then back down to his balls. So, so close, yet he can do nothing but watch and salivate.

“Trust me, baby,” Hongjoong coos sweetly, “I wanna mess you up so bad like this, but you’re gonna burn my dick off.”

Seonghwa shakes his head despite Hongjoong’s hold on him, eyes watering like he’s about to cry. Wetness gathers on his tongue when he sticks it out, spit coming forward to drip off the tip, and Hongjoong collects it easily with his thumb to spread across his lips and chin. Before Seonghwa can speak another word—he looks like he’s about to start begging —Hongjoong dips his thumb into the warm cavern and presses it into the side of his mouth.

“Stay there,” he whispers sinisterly, jerking Seonghwa’s head forward until the tip of his cock brushes against his cheek, smearing precum onto golden skin. It hits the corner of his mouth with every upward jerk of his cock, and every time, Seonghwa tries to catch it with his tongue even though he’s not allowed, and it’s such a delicious sight Hongjoong is worried he’ll come too fast.

He breathes deep through his nose, strokes slowing down as he focuses more on the little wet noises coming from Seonghwa’s mouth. He removes his thumb and slips two of his fingers inside, deep enough to make Seonghwa choke, but the other man recovers quickly as though he doesn’t want them to leave his mouth, lips closing down around them and sucking hard.

Hongjoong hisses, imagines it’s his cock inside the heat of Seonghwa’s mouth, so wet and so soft, and fists himself harder to the thought. His eyes are lidded as he watches, enchanted by the way Seonghwa sucks his fingers like he’s sucking dick, eyes falling shut every time he pulls his fingers out, then going doe-eyed wide when he reaches far enough to the back of his throat.

He looks filthy, saliva finding its way through the openings and dripping down Hongjoong’s wrist, bubbly and slick as Seonghwa gags but sucks deeper like Hongjoong’s fingers are his oxygen.

It comes so out of nowhere, but Hongjoong can almost pinpoint when exactly that moment is—Seonghwa presses forward, the pads of Hongjoong’s fingers digging down his throat as he sticks his tongue out all the way, and tears spill out the corners of his eyes and down his flushed cheeks. His breath is hot on Hongjoong’s cock, and he comes so suddenly, the first splatter lands across Seonghwa’s forehead to cause him to flinch, the rest of it coating long lashes, a tall nose, and pooling right over his tongue and Hongjoong’s fingers.

“Holy fuck,” Hongjoong curses under his breath, jerking himself slowly through his orgasm right up against the cum on Seonghwa’s cheek. The older male turns his head and tries to catch it between his lips, but Hongjoong jerks him back, pulling his cock away.

“Pl…ease,” Seonghwa begs through a gargle, hands clawing at Hongjoong’s calves while humping upwards to nothing. He lets out a choked sob, strained with Hongjoong’s fingers still fucking his own cum around in his mouth. And god, Hongjoong loves seeing him ruined.

“What were you saying?” he taunts, still unwilling to remove his fingers. Strands of black hair catch near the corners of his mouth, stuck to the mixture of all the different fluids. “Please?” Hongjoong echoes back sweetly—quietly, spoken words only for the two of them to hear.

Seonghwa pulls back just enough for the fingers to slip out, and he swallows down everything messily despite the dribble of spit and cum still on his chin. “I need you,” he says, humping his hardness into one of Hongjoong’s legs.

“Need me, how?” Hongjoong challenges, but he’s surprised when Seonghwa stands up and tries to straddle him. It isn’t his fault when the other man trembles from kneeling for so long, stumbling forward to collapse on the spot next to Hongjoong on the couch. Immediately, Hongjoong has hands on him to try to soften the fall for him, but it turns out Seonghwa is alright after all, because he’s digging his fingers into the plush of the cushion, face pressed into the back of the couch, and back arched into Hongjoong’s touch.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks, fingers brushing along the hot skin of Seonghwa’s waist.

Seonghwa must have mistaken the honey in his voice for sincerity, because he blinks out of his haziness for a moment to stutter out, “Y-yeah? I’m—”

“I don’t think so,” Hongjoong cuts in, voice dangerously low as his hand reaches up to the back of Seonghwa’s neck. He hears his breath hitch, not expecting the touch there, and the quaking in his legs come back. He puts pressure on one side and feels something dark in the pit of his stomach curl and twist when Seonghwa gives way too easily, letting himself fall onto his side instead, head landing on the pillow on the other end of the couch. Hongjoong gets up on his knees, seat cushions dipping with his weight, and looks down at Seonghwa.

Immediately, the look in Seonghwa’s eyes change, like they seem to lose focus under Hongjoong’s heavy stare and dominating presence. He grows pliant again, and Hongjoong just loves him like this. His hands rest on top of Seonghwa’s bent knees, feeling the heat radiate from underneath his jeans, and pushes them aside just enough for the man underneath him to whimper with anticipation.

“Turn around,” Hongjoong says, but Seonghwa is too responsive in the wrong way, quivering at the words rather than listening and following them, so Hongjoong reaches forward to close his grip over Seonghwa’s bicep, pulling him up with an arm for support around his waist, and Seonghwa comes out of the deep end, head lolling to the side, and he smirks like he enjoys how he’s manhandled.

“You’re hot when you’re mad,” Seonghwa drawls quietly, finger dragging teasingly up and down Hongjoong’s sternum. His voice is deep and seductive, and despite the many times Hongjoong jacks off every week, he still feels his dick stir, and the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Seonghwa, who lets out a laugh. “I think you liked that.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches. “I think I know what you like too. Turn around,” he repeats through his teeth, pushing Seonghwa backwards again. He lands backwards onto his arms, propping the top half of his body up, and looks up at Hongjoong through his lashes. He looks pretty like this, but the arrogance in his eyes makes Hongjoong really want to see that glint turn into something more submissive instead.

He’s a little too slow to move but Hongjoong waits for him patiently anyway—this is a game he’s not willing to lose, and he’s going to make sure Seonghwa is aware of that with a hand on the small of his back, right above the waistband of his sweatpants. He presses down and spreads his fingers over the expanse of smooth, golden skin, swallowing thickly when Seonghwa arches into his touch.

“You like when I tell you what to do,” Hongjoong says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. There’s a visible shudder from the man beneath him, who tries to turn his head to catch a glimpse. “Don’t turn around.”

And Seonghwa obeys, head snapping forward.

“See? Just like that,” Hongjoong hums, rubbing his palms sensually up the spine and back down to his waist. “I think you like to tease, and I think you like being punished for it.”

Hongjoong’s fingers finally hook under the elastic stretch of the fabric, and his eyebrows shoot upward when he pulls because he had expected layers. A large, wet spot has formed inside, darkening the light grey sweatpants to an inky grey.

So Seonghwa wanted this. He knew, after all these months of fucking with Hongjoong’s brain, his senses —to the point where he didn’t even know if he recognized himself anymore after coming to all the filthy images his mind conjured up from Seonghwa’s intake of spice.

And tonight, Seonghwa had hoped, and he had gotten it. Somewhere in the back of Hongjoong’s mind, he wonders how many fucking opportunities he had missed by going back to his room with a curse falling from his lips when he should’ve just shoved Seonghwa down to his knees and watched him drool all over his cock.

Like he’s lost all common sense, Hongjoong grips one asscheek open while a loud, resounding smack sounds in the quietness of their living room, handprint left behind in red on milky skin. The yelp that Seonghwa lets out is one that’s so satisfying to Hongjoong’s ears. There’s something about it that strokes his ego in the most perfect way, and he doesn’t think anyone else aside from Seonghwa can ignite this type of flame inside him.

Another one, and Hongjoong watches with crazed intent as the impact ripples through supple flesh, Seonghwa’s thighs jolting. He feels like a goddamn animal when he spreads Seonghwa open with his thumbs, grip tight enough to leave an imprint behind, and he swears his brain isn’t working when the first thing he does is spit on his hole.

There’s an audible gasp from the man underneath him, and Hongjoong’s eyes zero in on the way he clenches, slick saliva dripping down his perineum to his balls.

“H-Hongjoong! I—”

“What?” Hongjoong whispers, pressing his asscheeks together and then spreading them apart again to watch the wetness spread. It’s enchanting—it’s disgusting, and Hongjoong can’t look away. “You don’t want me to?”

“No! No, no, I do—I do, please…”

“Then shut up,” and it’s all Hongjoong says before he’s leaning down to drag his tongue over Seonghwa’s hole, and the noise the other makes has him realizing how fucking hard he is again, especially having come not too long ago. Seonghwa cries out and it’s music to Hongjoong’s ears, mixed with his humming and sucking and licking noises.

It’s the effect Seonghwa has on him. Hongjoong’s hard from just the mere thought of eating him out, but he can’t even find it in himself to give a fuck because Seonghwa whimpering and trembling under him consumes him so wholly there’s no room in his thoughts for himself.

A hand slides upward to press into Seonghwa’s back, and the other man drops to his shoulders, ass propped up on shaky knees and moans muffled into the cushion. He’s so perfect for him like this, willing to make a mess of himself at the slightest of Hongjoong’s touches.

Hongjoong turns his head just slightly to bite at the fleshy part of his ass, other hand trailing down his thigh and back up to wrap his hand around Seonghwa’s aching cock to give it a few slow strokes. The sounds of his moans grow louder and more strained, and when Hongjoong lifts his gaze, he can see Seonghwa gripping onto the arm of the couch like his life is depending on it, muscles in his arms strained.

Seonghwa doesn’t know whether he wants to push back onto Hongjoong’s tongue or roll his hips forward into his hand, but he probably doesn’t think about it too hard because Hongjoong gives him both, creating a mess of spit between his cheeks and a mess of the couch from the way precum dribbles down from the tip of his cock.

What Hongjoong would give to see Seonghwa’s face right now. He closes his eyes and imagines snot mixing with tears and spit, the same way he looks when he bites into a chili pepper and his brain shuts down from the high. He thinks about Seonghwa just five minutes ago, down on his knees with Hongjoong’s fingers spread across his tongue.

It takes a few moments for him to come back down, and he’s realizing Seonghwa’s incessant moaning has turned into begging—his voice shakes as he pleads, knuckles having turned white from how hard he’s fisting at the tension of the couch’s fabric, and he’s crying.

“Please, please, Hongjoong, I’m gonna come— please,” and it sounds desperate, like he’s fighting a battle against time, and Hongjoong’s brain blanks suddenly at the realization—Seonghwa is asking for permission.

If Hongjoong isn’t so fucking blissed out by that fact, he would have been meaner. He pulls back just a little to catch his breath, and through the wetness coating his lips, he tells Seonghwa to come now or don’t come at all, and as if on command, Seonghwa’s choked little sobs turn higher-pitched, caught between the feeling of being jerked off and eaten out as he comes all over the couch and Hongjoong’s hand.

He releases his hold around Seonghwa’s cock, but his mouth hasn’t stopped moving, so obsessed with the pathetic whimpers from the other man who squirms out of overstimulation but still, does nothing to stop him.

But Hongjoong isn’t done yet, because he’s grazing a finger over Seonghwa’s rim as he sucks a hickey into his asscheek, the same spot he bit before. It’s coated in Seonghwa’s own cum and the plenty of saliva Hongjoong left behind, and it’s enough for him to easily insert inside.

Honestly, he’s impressed by how well Seonghwa takes it. Not just this, but everything that Hongjoong is willing to give him. His thighs tremble with how long he’s been in that position but he keeps at it, and it makes Hongjoong so, so proud.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises, middle finger pressed deep inside him.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa moans around a pillow. He turns his head to the side and glances back at him, and Hongjoong feels like someone’s just punched him in the lungs. He looks so fucked out already, eyebrows knitted from overstimulation and the newness of the intrusion.

“Did you think we were done?” Hongjoong asks, then rolls his hips forward into the back of one of Seonghwa’s thighs, hardness pressed into his body heat. “You put me through all your bullshit and you expect me to be done like that?”

“But…” Seonghwa manages to get out between breaths, body rocking forward when Hongjoong gives a particularly hard thrust, “I just—I just came.”

“What, you can’t take it?” he responds callously, crooking his finger downward to rub against his walls. He stops his movements to spit down at his hole again, then collects the wetness with a second finger before pushing it inside.

Seonghwa braces himself on his hands before resting his forearms against the arm of the couch, twisting his torso to throw Hongjoong a cold look over his shoulder, to which he responds to with another hard slap to the back of his thigh, watching him jolt forward.

“I put up with you for months, but you can’t take this?” He punctuates his last couple of words with a tightened grip on Seonghwa’s asscheek, fingers prodding around inside, spreading to watch the hole open and contract around his digits. He pauses, stilling his hand still inside Seonghwa. “Tell me to stop if you really want me to, then.”

When silence greets him back, Hongjoong cocks an eyebrow and pulls his fingers out, only for Seonghwa to clench tightly over him, a pitiful cry escaping past his lips as he thrusts himself back on them. “No, no, I didn’t—I didn’t say stop, fuck.”

“You didn’t say anything at all,” Hongjoong spits out, his gaze dropping to the way Seonghwa’s cock twitches before sliding it back up to the noticeable tremble in the man’s shoulders. He plunges his fingers back inside, all the way down to the knuckles, and it punches a choked moan from the other.

Hongjoong drags the pads of his fingers along Seonghwa’s walls as he pulls them out to the tip, and then back in again, only to rub ceaselessly at his prostate. “You probably like the overstimulation,” he says as he wraps his other hand around his own cock to jerk it slowly. He taps the head of his cock against Seonghwa’s ass cheek in time to the thrusting of his hand and listens in amazement at the way the other man’s breathing hitches, moans drawing sharper and sharper. He slows down, pulls his fingers out, and before Seonghwa can make another noise, he’s nudging a third finger in alongside the other two.

It’s a bigger stretch for sure, Hongjoong’s fingers being on the thicker side, but Seonghwa can take it. He leans over the bend of Seonghwa’s ass, letting go of his own cock to press a clammy palm up his spine and to the back of his neck, pushing him down.

“You can take it, can’t you?” he asks sweetly, although venom seeps through the honey.

“Y-yes,” Seonghwa vocalizes, like he’s determined to make Hongjoong hear his words. “You… you don’t think I can? I’ll take it so fucking well that—that you won’t fuck anyone else again,” he grits out through his teeth.

The laugh that Hongjoong lets out is evil and possessive, like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. He can imagine the look on the older man’s face—eyebrows knitted with defiance, fire in his eyes, and swollen lips between teeth to try and counter the trembling in them. He has his own words he wants to say—that he hasn’t been fucking anyone at all lately because Seonghwa has been the one who consumes all of his mind, all of the time—but he chooses to hum around them for now as he fucks Seonghwa slowly and languidly with his fingers, and only starts to pick up its pace when the other man is meeting his thrusts with his own humping.

He spits into his own hand to lather up his cock, enough times for the glide to feel delicious and velvety over the calloused rubbing of his palm, and then he spits again, right onto where they connect, and gazes down with a shiver as Seonghwa’s hole just seems to suck it in.

He’s lining his cock up before he even removes his fingers, head of his cock dragging along the skin just beneath his abused hole. There isn’t a second wasted after he does finally pull out, the tip catching right away around him, and he doesn’t give a fuck about whether or not Seonghwa’s sob is from pain or pleasure when he presses forward haltingly.

Both, maybe, but he’s probably enough of a freak to enjoy it like that. Hongjoong massages the globes of his ass, red with defilement, and he hisses through his teeth as he drags his cock out just enough to see it sink back inside Seonghwa.

“Please,” Seonghwa begs, and it’s quiet, muffled by the cushion that’s been drenched with all the fluids from his crying and drooling. He clambers up onto shaky hands while saying, “If you’re gonna fuck me, at least make it good— ah!”

They’re fire words, Hongjoong knows. He knows and he still falls for it, hips snapping hard enough to cause Seonghwa to exhaust back onto his chest. He doesn’t give him time to recover, hands gripping Seonghwa’s hips hard enough to leave bruises as he’s immediately setting a brutal pace. “Yeah?” he asks, and his words are bitter from the moment they’ve left his mouth. “Well if you’re gonna be a bitch, I’m gonna fuck you like one. How’s that?”

Seonghwa doesn’t even get much of a chance to say anything in response because Hongjoong is finding he’s really enjoying fucking him until he’s senseless, attempts at speaking turning into a nonsensical mix of moans punched from his lungs and babbling stupidity. His thrusts are hard and ruthless, propelled by the determination to see Seonghwa’s knees give out.

They do eventually and very quickly, knees sliding backward as the arch of his back lessens. He slips his cock out suddenly, watching with sick delight as Seonghwa collapses completely, arms twitching out of fatigue. His face is still half planted into the pillow, beautiful black locks messy and wet across his nose to shield his vision.

“Turn around,” Hongjoong demands while towering over him, but Seonghwa’s thighs are quivering from exhaustion, breaths shaky as he moves like he’s treading through water, so Hongjoong helps him, reaching to clasp a hand over Seonghwa’s shoulders to flip him around on his butt.

God, Hongjoong should’ve done this sooner. He should’ve laid Seonghwa down on his back and watched how his pretty face twisted and contorted and crumbled to this. Tear tracks sit beautifully on his cheeks, fresh ones bedding the rim of his wide eyes until they’re ready to fall for him, and the ends of his straight hair stick to wherever they had dried on his skin. He looks a gorgeous mess, and it’s all for Hongjoong.

“Lay back,” he speaks softly, adding gentle pressure to Seonghwa’s bitten chest, and down he goes, knees bent and feet planted to cradle Hongjoong between his legs. “You look beautiful like this, you know?”

The flush that heats Seonghwa’s cheeks comes immediately, and the other man is suddenly shy, hands coming up to rest over his mouth, but Hongjoong sees the way his throat bobs with a dry swallow. Degradation and praise—oh, he is absolutely perfect for Hongjoong.

Another hand comes forward to seize Seonghwa by his wrists, lifting them up and off his face, and Hongjoong presses his hands into the empty spot above his head, lips catching Seonghwa’s in a slow, gentle, and passionate kiss. He lets Seonghwa feel him—explore everything the younger has to give him. He kisses like he can tell Seonghwa how bewitched he’s become just by the language of teeth and tongue, thumb rubbing over the soft skin of his wrists like he’ll know the desperation Hongjoong has to want to make him his —make his heart whole.

Long legs wrap around Hongjoong’s waist to pull him closer, and his cock drags enticingly against Seonghwa’s when he rolls his hips to grind down against him. When Hongjoong pulls away from the kiss, Seonghwa still has his mouth open and tongue out, lips covered in their combined spit like he’s trying to seduce him. He can’t help it when Seonghwa looks so full of filthy eroticism, fingers slipping into his hot mouth to let him suck on them again.

“Spit on them,” Hongjoong whispers, words coming out so quickly he hardly registers what he even says, and Seonghwa does, swirling the digits around in his mouth until they’re coated wetly.

The thing is, Hongjoong has lube, but he’d be damned to leave Seonghwa alone for even a second to go get it, not when he feels so completely trapped in the other man’s presence, gaze heavy and grip tight on him like he’s unwilling to let Hongjoong out of his sights too.

He shoves his fingers back inside of Seonghwa’s hole, already loose and relaxed for him, and then he’s leaning back up to line the head of his cock up again. He spits down, watches as it lands where they’re connected before spreading it with his thumb and pressing inside.

Seonghwa is stunning like this, legs spread and head lowered to take in the way Hongjoong’s hips roll as his cock slides deeper. A furious blush rests on his cheeks, eyes lidded and lashes so dark and long from where Hongjoong views him from, and then they roll back when Hongjoong’s buried so deep, his balls are pressed right against him.

“Feel good?” Hongjoong asks around the tightness in his chest. Seonghwa’s head knocks back when he nods, eyebrows furrowed and red lips open and spread to create the most beautiful face of ecstasy when Hongjoong begins moving again.

It’s impossible for Hongjoong to take his time with Seonghwa—at least, not today. Not when Seonghwa adds pressure to Hongjoong’s behind with the foot he has still hooked around him, and not when the tightness and heat around his cock feels this fucking good.

His hips snap forward quicker, skin slapping sounds the only thing they hear besides the mingling of Seonghwa’s whimpering moans and Hongjoong’s rapid breaths. Seonghwa slides up and down the couch with every drag of his cock and thrust of his hips, black hair creating an alluring halo around his head. A few strands stick to his lips and Hongjoong reaches forward to brush them away, but Seonghwa catches his wrist there with two hands before he can retract it.

He watches in amazement as Seonghwa kisses his fingers, slightly pruned from how much they’ve been dipped in the wetness of his mouth, and then slowly guides Hongjoong’s hands down his chin, and then to his neck where he holds it against his throat.

A shaky breath leaves Hongjoong’s lips at the realization, brain foggy as a wave of heat crashes into his temples. “Fuck,” he curses, grip tightening over Seonghwa’s neck as his pace picks up to fuck into him hard.

Seonghwa’s eyes are rolling back again, throat constricting as the web between Hongjoong’s thumb and index presses harder into him. It probably feels so fucking good for him, Hongjoong thinks as Seonghwa’s face pales and his grip on Hongjoong’s wrist weakens, legs drooping just the slightest. He loosens his grip to watch Seonghwa come back to himself, chest heaving as he lays there for Hongjoong to take.

One of Hongjoong’s hands squeezes into the back of Seonghwa’s knee, lifting his leg up for better leverage, and Seonghwa just bends and follows so easily, like a doll.

“Again,” Seonghwa says with a gasp, back arching off the couch as he reaches forward for Hongjoong’s free hand.

And how can he say no? He leans forward, his hand back at Seonghwa’s throat, and presses a kiss to his temple, sweet and chaste, a blinding contrast to the way he slams his cock into the older man.

“What’s it like being used?” he provokes, lips hovering right above Seonghwa’s ear. His grip tightens slowly, and his bangs, damp with sweat, graze against the slope of his own nose with every thrust of his hips. “You like it, don’t you, Seonghwa? You like being reduced to nothing but a ragdoll, yeah? You and your fucking spice tolerance,” Hongjoong grits out, hand pressing down earnestly to constrict Seonghwa’s airways now. “You like feeling high when I fuck you like this? Tell me.”

He lets go to watch Seonghwa cough around tears, trying to catch his breath, and he sobs to the ceiling, “Yes! Yes, Hongjoong, I l-love it!” And he sounds so animalistic when he says it, desperation so heavy on his tongue Hongjoong can taste it on his own, like they’re the only words he can think of in a brain so fucked out from the degradation and being put in his place.

“I’m gonna come,” Hongjoong says, voice seeping with urgency. He presses Seonghwa’s legs to his chest, hips slamming into Seonghwa so hard his ass cheeks have turned red from its abuse, and he looks straight down at the older man as he says, “And I’m gonna come inside you. I don’t give a fuck what you want. You probably like that, yeah?”

Seonghwa chokes out a sob, hand reaching between himself to jerk himself off, but his movements are so slow and his coordination is all over the place, Hongjoong ends up knocking his hand away to do it himself instead.

“Gonna come too?” he asks, breaths coming out ragged as he strokes Seonghwa quickly, grip tight over his cock as he glides his hand all the way down to his balls and back up.

“Yes, yes— yes! D-don’t stop,” Seonghwa babbles, head tossing back into the cushion as his eyes fall shut.

Without really thinking about it, Hongjoong extends his hand back out and doesn’t miss the way Seonghwa’s legs stay propped up, feet shaking with every thrust that has Hongjoong’s thighs slapping against the curve of Seonghwa’s ass. He only adds a little pressure to Seonghwa’s throat before a shaky, compressed moan leaves his lips, and he comes silently but so violently Hongjoong has to let go of his hold on him to grip the back of Seonghwa’s thighs properly, chasing his own orgasm.

Seonghwa shakes and trembles underneath him, tears gliding down his face as his head lolls to one side, taking every brutal in and out of Hongjoong’s cock as it penetrates deeper and deeper—so deep he slides up enough for the top of his head to bump the end of the couch.

In the next moment, Hongjoong is bending him so far he’s in awe of his flexibility, knees pressed to his shoulders as he thrusts his hips once, twice and then a third time to come deep inside the wet hole he’s made out of Seonghwa, hot semen spreading warmth around his twitching cock, and as he’s coming down, he’s hissing while slipping his spent cock out of Seonghwa’s gaping hole.

Seonghwa mewls, clenching down on nothing while Hongjoong watches the cum seep out almost immediately after, dripping down the curve of his crack and soaking into the couch. It’s disgusting—it’s hot as fuck, Seonghwa laying there unmoving and letting it happen.

Hongjoong grazes the back of his fingers along the red skin there, then scoops up the cum before pressing them back inside to hear the prettiest whimper from the older man. “You’re greedy, you know that?” he asks, thrusting his fingers in and out slowly. God, he’s so fucking wet. Hongjoong wishes he can stuff his dick back inside just to feel how warm and slick he’d be, if only he isn’t literally incapable of getting hard for another good hour.

Seonghwa’s chest heaves for the moments that follow, trying to recollect himself after such an intense orgasm. Hongjoong only realizes he’s back to his usual self when Seonghwa slowly lifts his head to look down at the hand that’s between his legs, then back up at Hongjoong with a suspicious sultriness.

Hongjoong’s eyes narrow at the coyish expression the other man wears, fingers stilling for just a moment. “What are you doing?”

“Can we go again?” Seonghwa pushes himself down onto his fingers, clenching with purpose while dragging the toes of one foot up and down Hongjoong’s thigh, and the kittenish smile dancing across his lips makes Hongjoong feel lightheaded enough to have to close his eyes and draw in a deep inhale.

“I fuck you once and you’re suddenly not shy anymore,” he states while retracting his fingers, pulling an upset pout from Seonghwa. “Do you remember when you said you weren’t teasing me on purpose?”

Seonghwa swings his legs off the couch and stands up, uncaring for the way Hongjoong’s cum drips down the back of his thighs. Hongjoong finds he’s unable to look away,  “Yeah, well, whatever I did worked, didn’t it? Now I know you’re a freak.” 

“A freak?” Hongjoong gawks, head turning to follow the way Seonghwa’s bare ass jiggles with every step he takes. He gets off the couch and immediately follows after him to the washroom. “Wait, why am I the freak?”

Seonghwa shrugs while cranking the handle in the shower. “You get off to me eating spicy food.”

Hongjoong’s jaw drops, eyebrows furrowed as disbelief colours his face. “That’s—that doesn’t make me a freak,” he defends and steps a little closer. “You just make these, like, erotic fucking expressions after eating spicy food, and I really don’t think it’s that weird that I’m turned on by them! And what about you? Doesn’t that make you a freak too? Normal people get fucked up from alcohol, or drugs, or whatever, but you —you like getting fucked up from capsaicin. ”

The other man turns to look at him with crossed arms, eyes squinting a little as though he’s observing Hongjoong carefully.

Hongjoong blinks, unsure of why he suddenly has heavy attention on him. “What?” he scoffs, then gestures for Seonghwa to continue. “Why? Why? What do you wanna say?”

A smile cracks across Seonghwa’s face, and he looks breathtaking. Hongjoong swallows dryly and feels the determination he had been building slip through the cracks. “Nothing,” he says, then turns around to check on the temperature of the spray of the water. “I just think you’re cute. I should eat spicy food more.”

“You really should not,” Hongjoong tells him, then turns on his heels, but a hand reaches out to clasp around his wrist.

“Where are you going?” Seonghwa asks, one foot already in the shower.

When Hongjoong turns back to look at him, he’s a little stunned by the mixture of alarm and panic evident in those pretty dark irises. “I’m—”

“You’re not going to shower with me?” Seonghwa continues, then gives Hongjoong’s wrist a gentle tug, and Hongjoong surprises himself by how easily he goes with the force, feet picking up lightly because he never really had any reservations about it in the first place.

Hongjoong sucks in a sharp breath and his expression tightens, jerking away when hot water touches his back. “What the fuck? Why is it so hot?”

“You’re hot,” Seonghwa says, and then Hongjoong’s vision goes white when Seonghwa suddenly drops to his knees.

Hongjoong isn’t getting his dick sucked with water from hell touching him, so he reaches back for the handle just as Seonghwa closes a hand around his cock, still soft.

The older man jerks it gently in a loose hold, but then he leans forward and takes the whole thing in his mouth, all the way down until the tip of his nose is pressing into the curly hairs at the base of Hongjoong’s cock, and then he sucks— hard.

Hongjoong can feel his cock fill out almost immediately, and it would have been slightly embarrassing if he wasn’t so fucking turned on, the way Seonghwa has his fingertips digging into Hongjoong’s hips, pulling him in so assertively, he has to brace himself on the shower tiles behind Seonghwa.

This is newness to Hongjoong—this Seonghwa doesn’t seem like the Seonghwa that had just been crying and begging for cock, acting like the world was going to end if he couldn’t get Hongjoong’s cock in his mouth. This Seonghwa has Hongjoong wanting to roll his eyes back. This Seonghwa is eager to take from Hongjoong.

“You’re a fucking demon,” Hongjoong curses, mouth open as moans and grunts waterfall from his lips. He reaches down with his other hand to push his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, bringing his bangs back and out of his face, then yanks to pull him off his dick, now fully hard.

Seonghwa sticks his tongue out suggestively, and it takes all of Hongjoong’s self control to not shove his cock back into his mouth. “And you take demon showers.”

“When are you going to get over that and fuck my mouth?” Seonghwa asks, miffed.

A thought crosses Hongjoong’s mind as he’s pulling Seonghwa back further and taking half a step forward to make the older man fall onto his ass, and it’s that he kind of likes that Seonghwa enjoys being a provocative little piece of shit when he fucks, because Hongjoong is discovering he might have a thing for putting bitches their place.

His cock slips past pretty lips, and he presses deeper and deeper, until Seonghwa backs up into the tiles, head resting against the cold surface. The tip of his dick taps Seonghwa gently in the back of his throat, and he’s surprised when he meets little resistance.

“Do you suck dick a lot, Hwa?” Hongjoong asks him quietly, like it isn’t a loaded question to have to answer. It isn’t like Seonghwa can give him an answer anyway, lips stretched over Hongjoong’s length. He makes a little gurgling noise like he has something to say, but how can he pull away when he has nowhere to go?

Hongjoong’s grip in his hair softens just a touch, but then he rolls his hips forward, knocking Seonghwa’s head back into the tiles, and he thrusts like that for a few seconds, eager to make him gag, so when he does, a lopsided grin cracks across his lips, devilish and arrogant.

“I just came inside you ten minutes ago,” Hongjoong says, satisfaction spreading across his chest at the way Seonghwa garbles, a glob of white, bubbly spit dripping from Seonghwa’s lip and landing on his thigh, “but you want it in your mouth too?”

The view is fucking stunning, the way Seonghwa blinks up at him with pretty eyes, squinting with wetness every time Hongjoong’s dick hits him where it contstricts. “Who’s the freak now?”

The first of tears glide down flushed cheeks when Hongjoong pushes deeper than he’s ever had, choking him, and suddenly Seonghwa’s hands are on his hips, driving the heels of his palms into him as he forcibly turns his head to the side to catch some air. He coughs harshly, and the sound is brilliant to Hongjoong’s ears.

Fuck, he is the freak after all.

“Was that too much?” he asks, only a little bit concerned.

Seonghwa glares up at him while sniffling, back of his hand raised to wipe aggressively at his eyes. “No. Do you think I’m a bitch?”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow cocks upward, surprised he’s being challenged, especially when Seonghwa looks the way he currently does—seated against the shower tiles, lips swollen and puffy, eyes wet and glossy, and with Hongjoong’s cum leaking out his fucking hole.

He can’t help it when he sucks in an urgent breath through his teeth, his hand back in Seonghwa’s moist hair. “You sure fucking look like one,” is all he gives before he’s pulling at the black strands and slipping his cock back inside that hot, wet cavern of his mouth.

This time, Seonghwa prepares himself well. His throat relaxes as Hongjoong penetrates deeper and deeper every time, his jaw slack open as he fully submits to the abuse Hongjoong gives. He can only take about thirty seconds of it before he’s squeezing his eyes shut and gagging.

Hongjoong pulls out with a trembling breath, even though he really doesn’t want to, but then Seonghwa is shaking his head no and reaching out with warm fingers. “Don’t stop,” he chokes out, then takes Hongjoong’s cock back in his hand and guides it onto his tongue like it had never left in the first place.

Oh, it’s disgusting, the way Seonghwa sputters wetly with his head hitting the tiles hard enough for Hongjoong to slide his fingers back there, resting his hand between the solid surface and his head. He coughs, and Hongjoong feels the saliva pooling at the back of his mouth and down the sides of his cock before dribbling downwards. It slides down Hongjoong’s balls, coating his entire cock wet and messy, and it’s so fucking hot his head spins trying to make himself last.

Seonghwa’s little whimpers and cries don’t help either—it’s all so filthy, and Hongjoong has been dreaming of having Seonghwa crying around his dick like this, his cheeks and the tip of his nose red, salty tears blending into everything. He looks just the way he does after biting into a Thai chili, like how he had looked back when they were in the living room with San and Wooyoung. It’s so, so much better than everything he imagined, and his imaginations are disgusting.

“Fuck, you’re nasty,” Hongjoong grits out, then pushes his hips so far, Seonghwa’s throat suddenly constricts like he’s trying to swallow, and he watches with sick gratification as the older male tries to pull away—except he can’t. Not when he’s backed into a wall, and not when Hongjoong has a hand in his hair, jostling his head slightly.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. Open your fuckin’ mouth, yeah,” Hongjoong curses out, more to himself than to the other man, and he pulls out just in time for the first spurt of cum to splash across Seonghwa’s eye, causing him to flinch. He yanks at his hair despite Seonghwa’s attempts to cough, and he looks so erotic looking up at Hongjoong like this. Drool coats his chin and his eyes are wet, lashes clumpy, eyebrows scrunched as he cries, and Hongjoong’s cum just looks so fucking good all over his face.

He moans, abdomen tense as he jerks himself through the last of his orgasm. Seonghwa’s long, pretty tongue rests still as Hongjoong’s cum pools over it, and then he drags the tip of his cock in it before pushing in again despite the overstimulation, just to watch Seonghwa swallow it down.

“Fuck, okay,” Hongjoong gasps out, pulling out quickly and taking a shaky step back. “I’m done. I can’t do another.”

Seonghwa’s hands come up to wipe from the middle of his face out, collecting everything in his palms as he stands up on shaky legs. Hongjoong has his hand around his arm to support him, and Seonghwa rinses his hands under the spray of the water, now cold.

“What about later?”

“Later?” Hongjoong gawks, then sputters when Seonghwa randomly pokes a finger into his mouth. “I already came three time!”

“Why? You can’t again?” Seonghwa asks casually as if it’s normal for the average guy to come three times in one night. He presses Hongjoong to the back to turn the water temperature back up, and Hongjoong is suddenly a sticker to the wall as steam begins to fill the enclosed space very quickly.

He clears his throat, watching Seonghwa thoroughly clean himself with his shampoo and face washes. “You really are a fucking demon,” he says as Seonghwa tilts his head back to let water catch onto his hairline. Fuck, he’s so pretty. Hongjoong has always thought Seonghwa looked so sexy with his hair slicked back.

He doesn’t realize at first what Seonghwa is doing handing him the bottle of body wash, but then the other man is turning around and leaning his forearms into the wall, ass sticking out with a little wiggle.

“It’s your responsibility to clean me out,” he says, tossing a look over his shoulder, and Hongjoong has to make a conscious effort to breathe properly before he’s lathering Seonghwa’s back with the rose scented body wash, peach in colour. The soap suds slip off his naked skin easily, the glide under Hongjoong’s hands so deliciously smooth he can’t help but to knead at the meat of his ass. Water washes it off quickly, but Hongjoong isn’t done yet. He rinses his hand clean under the water before spreading Seonghwa’s legs a little wider with a gentle nudge to the inside of his thigh, then presses a finger in.

Seonghwa reacts immediately to it, hips thrusting back until he engulfs him down to the fucking knuckle, and Hongjoong has to press his hand into the back of his thigh to stop him. “What is wrong with you?” he asks, hissing, then drags his finger out slowly to pull cum out with it.

“Put another finger in,” Seonghwa demands, pushing despite Hongjoong’s restriction. “I just sucked your dick and now you can’t fuck me with your fingers right?”

“Did you fucking forget how long I fucked you for earlier? How the fuck are you still horny?” Despite what he says, Hongjoong complies and slips another finger in before twisting them and curling them, drawing little moans from Seonghwa. Even though Hongjoong just came, he really cannot get enough of the sounds the other man makes, and his fingers pick up their pace sooner than he intends.

He loops an arm around Seonghwa’s middle to close his fingers over his cock, unsurprised to find he’s fucking hard, and presses his chest to the other man’s back as he fucks him with rough fingers and a bruising pace. His hand jerks in time to the thrusting—water doesn’t really help much with the glide, but it doesn’t really seem like Seonghwa cares too much as he’s suddenly arching his back, hole clenching over Hongjoong’s fingers.

“R-right there,” he gasps out, fingers curling to scratch nails into the shower tiles. “D-don’t stop—don’t stop!” His head drops, wet hair taped to the curves of his neck and jaw, and when his knees shake and thighs quiver, Hongjoong knows he’s close.

He whispers, voice gruff in Seonghwa’s ear, “All you wanna do is fuck. Horny bitch. You gonna come from my fingers?”

“Oh my god, please,” Seonghwa begs, giving in, and Hongjoong presses his fingers downward and rubs, right into the good spot.

“That’s not my name,” he tells him, slowing his movements.

“H-Hongjoong— ah, please! I’m close, I—I’m so close, please,” Seonghwa babbles, and it doesn’t take long for Hongjoong to be pulling his second orgasm from him as cum shoots along the shower tiles and dribbles out of the head of his cock, down to Hongjoong’s fingers and his wrists.

Hongjoong pulls his fingers out slowly and watches as Seonghwa clenches over nothing, then gives his ass a spank before rubbing it soothingly. “You okay?” he asks, arm still looped around Seonghwa’s waist. He pulls Seonghwa upright, then turns him around slowly to inspect his face closely.

The other man is clearly still coming down from his orgasm, but he looks alright. He looks good, actually, and Hongjoong suddenly feels an intensity spreading like electricity through his entire body. He doesn’t know what compels him to do it, but he’s leaning in and kissing Seonghwa deeply, tongue swiping over his lips and teeth grazing softly afterward, only to sink down to bite tenderly.

It takes a couple of seconds for Seonghwa to kiss him back, but it’s relieving nonetheless. They kiss for so long it should be concerning, and water is hitting Hongjoong in the face and it’s awkward but kind of hot trying to breathe through his mouth in moments between their heated kissing, but he makes it work. He needs to make it work.

The question ‘why’ is for another time when neither of aren’t so fucked out from each other. Hongjoong pulls away to Seonghwa with his eyes closed, and when they open slowly, he’s blinking water droplets out of them.

“Sorry,” Hongjoong mutters but doesn’t look away. He doesn’t actually feel sorry, either.

“Why?” Seonghwa asks quietly. “We kissed earlier.”

“I know, just—I dunno, it was different this time.”

Seonghwa blinks, then takes Hongjoong by the shoulders before turning them around. “Let’s get you washed too.”

There isn’t much exchange between them afterwards—not until they’re dried and dressed and back in the living room to clean up. Hongjoong picks up the partly-drunken bottle of soju on the table, then turns to hold it up for Seonghwa to see. “Are you finishing this tonight?”

Seonghwa has two other empty bottles in between his long fingers when he looks up. “Sure, I can have a little more. Will you finish it with me?”

It’s hardly enough to get them even the slightest bit tipsy, but having a drink together now that they’re alone is good nonetheless—needed, perhaps. Everything is cleaned by the time they’re sitting by the coffee table, knees bumping into each other as they sit cross-legged on the floor because they both shared a silent consensus of not sitting on the couch they had just fucked on.

“Do you actually like spicy food that much?” Hongjoong asks, breaking the silence as he’s pouring the clear liquid into two shot glasses.

“I do,” Seonghwa speaks with a hum, pretty fingers closing around his shot glass. “I wasn’t lying when I said it’s actually a problem.”

“But you’ve been eating it around me because you knew what you were doing to me, right?” Hongjoong clinks his glass against Seonghwa’s gently, then knocks the shot back.

Seonghwa drinks half of it, then swallows down the other half. When he sets it down, the sound is stark in the silence of their apartment. “I didn’t do it on purpose at first, but you started having these, like, little responses. Like sometimes you just kept staring at me. I think you zone out so hard you don’t realize I’m looking at you.”

Well, shit. Hongjoong gulps down his second shot, then reaches to pour another one for them. “And then?” he asks without looking at the older man, too resigned to really care anymore about what Seonghwa might say.

“Well,” Seonghwa starts, turning his shot glass left, then right, then left again, “I just kind of knew. So I purposely ate hot—like really hot food around you.”

Hongjoong finally looks up at him. “‘Cause you wanted me to fuck you?”

Seonghwa’s smile looks a little cheeky as he readjusts the way he sits to face Hongjoong properly, and there’s also a devious glint in his eyes. “I knew you’d break sooner or later. Honestly, best sex I’ll ever have. Can we do it again?”

“Tomorrow,” Hongjoong says with a promise, then laughs at the pout on Seonghwa’s face. “There’s no way you can go for another round. I swear my dick is going to fall off.”

“Should I prepare a spicy dinner again?”

Hongjoong’s lips curl, and it matches the enthusiasm on Seonghwa’s face. “Only if you don’t invite Wooyoung and San, but you do know I can make you look like that without having to feed you spicy food, right?”

Seonghwa raises his glass. “Freak,” he says with a little giggle, and this time, Hongjoong grins and says nothing in retaliation as he clinks his glass gently into Seonghwa’s.