Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Can you repeat that again?"

"Can you please cum.. in me?" 

"I'm— in you?" Johnny stared at Mark incredulously, ready to roll away and walk out on the sudden madness, but he is hindered by the younger man's reflexes, a leg swiftly hooked around Johnny's waist.

"Okay. All right no, we talked about this. We've already decided, I’m not fucking you. Not anytime soon."

"You mean you decided.."

But Johnny won't have it. This is absurd and he wouldn't know where to start about the utter impracticality of it, regardless of how is dick feels about this.

"No fucking for you," Johnny punctuated each word with a jab of his finger against the other boy's chest, going for the hardened nipples to make it more painful, "unless you want to go around hobbling all the fucking week during your schedules, recording, practice? Hello? For three groups, did you forget?”

Because the baby group can’t go on without the baby prodigy now, can it? So that will be another fixed unit Mark is now a part of. 

Mark scrunched up his nose but didn't let go of Johnny, straining his thighs to keep him as close as possible. He said nothing, twisting his puckered lips to the side and his own digits moving in circles around the birthmark on the older man's waist. 

"And wow unsafe sex, huh? You're dirty."

"Nah, I'm clean," Mark countered quickly to that, "you know like— clean, clean yeah, and dude I literally haven't done this before plus you can't knock me up anyway."

Johnny spluttered, mouth falling open. "Mark Lee."

"I have a point though, right?"

"That's so not the point," Johnny shook his head, a groan escaping him when Mark jostled his other leg— a slow, heavy drag of tight, heated flesh against Johnny's cock trying to burst out of his jeans, “you're making no points right now dude, shut up.” 

Fuck, this is obstructing his common sense or he would have been out of here by now.

"Then what is the point?" Mark prodded at him almost testily, obviously an attempt to get a rise out of him, "Why are you—dude, I'm not—"

Now, Johnny can't allow that.

"Mark, don't be dumb. Remember when you took three fingers that one time? You refused to sit down around people for a week."

"Well," Mark looked away at that, coughing slightly, "so yeah— I'm sensitive."

"I'm sensitive." Johnny mocks in a high pitched tone, rolling his eyes.

"But I don't mind, um you know, some pain," Mark mumbles out, digging the nail of his thumb in the flesh of Johnny's index finger, dragging it down to press it into the thick, throbbing veins running down the back of Johnny's hand.

"It won't be just some pain, stupid." Johnny hisses back, gaze still stuck on Mark's thumb, moving in tight little circles. He licks his lips, smacking them together, the urge to reach down and adjust himself becoming insistent. He grabs Mark's hand instead, clenching his fingers roughly.

“I could work you open for an hour before I break you in and you'll still need a few days off."

Johnny bites his lip when it hits him like a whack on the head. Mark was fingering himself. These fingers, they were shoved up his ass probably just minutes ago, and he was thinking about Johnny while he was at it.

"Add a few more days for yourself," he says, voice tight, "Since you're so sensitive."

"I've heard," Mark croaks out, his voice deepening with every passing word, "about that— I mean, uh..”

Oh, and isn't that just so convenient. Mark has heard, and will probably keep hearing a lot of things. After all he is always surrounded by, and is rather close to a bunch of people who must have a lot to say about Johnny.

"Right, you've heard," he nods, face blank, "of course."

He worries then, about what all they have been saying to Mark. What does he know about Johnny's... interests and habits, and how much of it aligns with what Mark wants.

"Dude, I didn't ask you to fuck me though".

Johnny breaks out of his reverie, blinking at the other in disbelief.

"Excuse you?"

"I said give me your cum, no fucking needed for that, yeah?"

Johnny stops thinking then, head going empty for real. He is not even going to try and process that in words with his mind already conjuring up senseless, obscene imageries to go all with whatever insanity the younger man is spewing.

The nasty voice in his head is just repeating, 'give me your cum' like a broken record, and he shifts, yielding, as his hand slides down by itself without his permission. He feels up the imprint of his girth on the ragged texture of the jeans, pulling it down slightly so that his balls would stop aching with the agonizing need to just unload at this point.  

But then the rational, cautious side of his senses protest, concerned about the purpose of it all even with want thrumming in his veins.

Mark has done a lot of things with many people. He is inquisitive, and stubborn. He always attracts interest, and doesn't mind requesting for some help here and there. But despite it all, getting properly fucked is something he hasn't undertaken just yet, due to reasons Johnny may or may not be aware of.

Which is very typical of them, because Johnny knows way more than he should when it comes to Mark. The older man is more than happy to scourge out every trivial detail about people around him, just in case he needs some fodder for future bargain but with the younger man, he doesn't even try.

He is always there, telling him everything he would need to pull some strings for, if it was anyone else but Mark.

He doesn't know if it's a good thing or not.

Johnny has never been any of Mark's firsts. Mark already had a hyung, friends, best friend, people he respected, and then colleagues too. He even ended up debuting before Johnny. 

All these years, Mark threw him around from one position to another depending on his age, situation and how he was feeling about the older man in the moment. Johnny let him. He never had much to say about it, opinion firmly kept under wraps and he was never asked about it either.

How Mark saw him had nothing to do with what Johnny felt about him anyway.

For his other firsts, it was a conscious decision on Johnny's part to not get dragged in those either and at some point in time, Mark figured it out. He never brought it up, and Johnny was grateful for that. 

He can't figure out how he will put it into coherent words that something about the younger man perceiving him as a safe place, and then hoping to experiment and try new things with him, regardless of weather Mark would end up liking it or not just didn’t sit right with him. Mark wanting to do something for the first time and approaching him for it doesn’t mean he wants to do it with the older man specifically, or wants him in general. 

That’s weirdly the deal breaker for Johnny, as far as sex goes.  

Mark just wants to try new things every week and the other man is a comfortable presence that is close by. Johnny wants to be wanted and can’t compromise on it.  

So later when Mark started checking out all other firsts on his list of stuff he was convinced that he should be done with before he is twenty, Johnny made himself scarce, walking backwards right out of every room and situation he could see going towards the twilight zone he refused to be a part of.

He was there for the aftermath though. He was there to listen to it all. He watched Mark internalize and process each experience before the younger moved on to other things he wanted to give a try.

Then came the whatever which led them here, when Mark jumped from casually aiming to gather new experiences to wanting be an expert on how all aspects of sex works. Johnny didn't escape it all unscathed in the end, but he is still disciplined enough to not ever be the one Mark tries new things with.

Of course, unless it is something totally silly and frivolous like showing him how not to look like an immature when he tries to flirt or the most subtle ways to get numbers from his crushes.

It gives everyone a laugh at Mark's expense, Johnny holds on to his restraint and no one gets hurt. 

So this is actually being sprung up on him without any warning, and his resistance has been folding under Mark's relentlessness to an unreasonable extent lately, especially since he came back from the tour.

One day, Johnny is going to sit Ten down and ask about whatever the fuck was happening during their stay in North America. 

"Why do you want that?" He whispers, stare heavy with the craving igniting in his guts. Mark peeks at him, lashes sweeping up and he smiles, just slightly when he thinks that the older man is considering giving into the lunacy. He wets his lips, digging the front teeth down into the thin flesh.

"Just— I'll tell you. But first," Mark digs the ball of his foot in the older man's back, and receives a reflex response with a thigh pushing into his sensitive dick. He already came twice by himself, which makes it borderline painful for him to have a heavy weight pressing down on it.

"Come on, just the head," Mark coaxed, "dude, lemme jerk you off and then, uh— or you can, no pressure but— just give me an inch," Mark begged, heavy breathing giving away his desperation. His eyes were wide; deer-like, so innocent. So sweet.

That's the look he put on when he wanted an extra serving of something he shouldn't have, when he wanted to do something but was too hesitant so he would ask one of them to do it first, when he jotted down something that could be used up in one of their songs, and came to Johnny to ask how it sounds, how it flows, if it was okay, as if Johnny is the one with the most writing and composing credits.

Mark has always been such a sweet, sweet boy. He is unbelievably competent at thawing away any kind of resistance thrown in his direction.

Johnny knows that from experience, he was the one Mark practiced it on the most, most likely just because it was a challenge for him.

If Johnny had given in from the very start, maybe Mark would have moved on by now. 

It's not something he is proud of, but Johnny selfishly doesn't want that. Never did. 

-•-

When Taeil joins them, Johnny had consciously settled into his role, the one which is constructed as a compromise between how he wants to be seen and what the company wants him to be marketed as.

It's fascinating to say the least, how they interact. One of the newest trainees and he is older than Johnny in age, which is rare at that time period.

Then there is Johnny, who feels ancient on his best days, like an immaculate castle looming over the continuously revamping configuration of the settlements around it, discarded and forgotten on the horrible ones, the abandoned ruins they build new cities on.

The way he takes to Taeil, somehow makes him think of how Haechan imprinted on Mark. After the initial hesitancy in their interactions, the older falls into the basic age hierarchy, and Johnny is more than happy to go along with it, except for the minor revolts here and there to keep things interesting. He speculates that they might end up in the same unit, which brings about a feeling of contentment knowing that there will be at least one person older than him.

It is not the expectations, the roles and responsibilities that he is worried about. He is more than capable to fill in every position, but the manner in which the oldest members in groups get stereotyped, the way they are perceived and how they are restricted to act a certain way troubles him. He would take being somewhere in between, but you can't have everything according to your own preferences.

It could have been worse, he tells himself. He could have debuted earlier, and end up being the youngest in a group. Now that's a nightmare he is more than happy to have avoided.

For now, he is fine with having Taeil around, who is adorable, kind of scrawny and loves to shout at Johnny with his fingers raised in the air, pointing at Johnny's nose as he tells him how disrespectful of a brat the younger is.

Much to his amusement, everyone loves to tease Taeil but the man never responds back by pulling the hyung card on them. That one is reserved for Johnny almost exclusively. It definitely makes him feel some type of way, to be honest. He likes feeling unique, the exception in something to someone. That’s a turn on.  

He wants to interrogate the older boy at times, but then he thinks that there is no point in making a big deal out of it. Johnny has an inkling to what it could be about, maybe he already knows to an extent. 

People tend to draw out the most significant superiority certificate available to them, when they have that instinctual, primitive need to curb someone who seems threatening to their position and authority. He has seen enough of it, but this is a more mellow and delicate version that makes Taeil appear so charming in his eyes.

"How do you do that? You're so loyal to your routine," the older boy asked him when Johnny came back from the gym one night, "you never miss a day. I need some motivation, I think."

"Well, I do it for myself. It's not for... you know. It's not because I want to be an idol."

Johnny shrugged, threading fingers through his wet hair. He got up from the couch, stretching his arms.

"Also, Hyung," he starts, twisting to his right to look down, meeting Taeil's curious gaze, "I have this severe need to be in absolute control, of everything. Since that's unreasonable, I divert all that desire towards controlling myself instead."

He bends down, getting a hold of his bag and doesn't break the eye contact, "Makes up for good self-discipline."

He ruffles the older man's hair, shirking away when he swats at him.

"Yah," squawks Taeil, "don't touch my head, you bastard." 

Johnny giggles behind his hand, "Goodnight, Hyung! See me in your dreams."

"Yeah, I'll punch you there."

"That's why it's called a dream, hyung."

"Fuck off, asshole."

How can you hold others in your grasp and implement your authority when you have no control over yourself. 

-•-

He makes up his mind, the switch in his head flicked on with only a nominal shift in body language to show for it. 

"Let go," he orders, but Mark wouldn't release him, tightening the hold of his leg around Johnny.

"Mark," he warns gruffly, grabbing the younger boy's calf to yank it away, "You can't keep me here but I can cause some major damage to get myself away."

Johnny tapped Mark's knee. 

"Or you can do as I say and let me go." 

Mark frowns, deep creases appearing between his eyebrows. He gives in eventually, worried eyes pinned on to Johnny's face.

He struggles to hold on to the older man, fingers slippery and hot against the back of his hand as Johnny gets up abruptly, walking away from the bed towards the door. 

"Johnny—" panic brims up in Mark's voice. "Dude—yo wait. I was just kidding, for real Johnny— Please," he whispers, voice giving up at the end.

"Johnny.”

Mark pleads, trailing off when Johnny gets his hand on the door knob. 

He opens the door once, shuts it back firmly, locks it from inside with a snick and shakes the knob, just to make sure.

He can't have someone walking in on them this time, and he wouldn't want someone to walk in on them like Johnny did once, when Mark was being enlightened with the wonders of having a few digits pushed inside his ass. 

He stands still and waits for the awareness to fill in, for it to sprinkle the space between them with the thrill, the presentiment of something that is about to happen. And it does, leaving Mark gasping and then it's just them, breathing in silence.

“Hyung...”

Johnny whips around then, hands reaching in his pockets to take out his watch and rings. He places them on Mark's table, sidestepping the baby blue towel on the floor that he had missed before, too caught up in the boy who threw it there most probably. After he came back from the bathroom where he got off while he thought of Johnny, to abate a meltdown that he was about to have due to him as well. And apparently it didn’t work, considering the state in which he found Mark. 

Mark sits there on the bed, and his lips quiver— shaken from the harsh emotions due to his presumption that Johnny was leaving him like this, or it could be the shock due to the sudden turn of events, always so easily affected by everything the older does.

He twists his head to the side, eyes lowered, all bravado abandoning him suddenly. Tugging anxiously at the dark bed cover is all that he can do. 

"Take out that bottle from under your pillow," Johnny monotones, and Mark startles violently. He doesn't ask why the other man knows where he keeps the lube for easy access, Johnny doesn't bother with an explaination either, “put it on the other side of the bed for Hyung."

Mark does what he says with an alarming urgency, fumbling hands dipping under his pillow to snatch it out, dropping it on his other side like his skin is set on fire. 

"Come here," Johnny beckons him closers, and Mark moves as if possessed by the deep cadence of it, lurching forward on his knees to be near him, face to face with the erection he gave Johnny in the first place. Now he can't even bring himself to look at it, “undo the rest of the buttons for me, will you? Quick."

Mark stares up, perplexed for an instant before he gets it. His fingers twitch, gaze avoiding his when he reaches out obediently to do what he is being told to. 

"Now, let's go back a little," Johnny swiftly unbuckles his belt, and Mark flinches away from the rattling noise of it, his expression still pervaded with disbelief at precisely getting what he was pushing for just a hot minute ago, “do you want to say that to me again?"

"What do you want your Hyung to do? Repeat it for me, go on."

A tense moment of absolute silence, when Mark chews on his lower lip and stays mum. 

"What do you want me to do?" Johnny pushed him some more, nearly apathetic for how delicate the circumstance is. 

"Go on, say it."

"Want you—, " Mark's voice cracks, disappearing in thin air, and he has to start all over again, "Hyung to cum inside me—" 

He stops when Johnny quirks up a brow.

"In my ass, I mean. Um, yeah."

He exhales, rectifying himself quickly, nearly jerking his hands away when he is done with the last button.

Johnny halts him halfway.

"And why should I?" The older man clasps Mark's wrists with one hand, gripping them firmly.

Mark's breath hitches, dark pupils dilating when he lifts his gaze up, a misty sheet of frantic want placed over his bashfulness.

"Don't you have people lined up to help you out with these things?" inquires Johnny, frowning in faux confusion and a protesting whine leaves the other boy.  

"Want me to call one of them?" He offers darkly, glancing at the closed door. The acidity in his inflection echoes, falling on his own ears as a warning.

Don't get too swept away. Don't give in more than you already have.

"You— no, hyung," Mark groans, shaking his head frantically, "I want, I mean it needs to be you, uh yours. I mean—"

Johnny raises the metallic buckle of his belt suddenly, brushing it against the other boy's wrist, observing the fine hairs on his skin stand up on ends, gradually spreading and breaking into a full-body shudder. A delicate, wounded noise slips out along with it, but Mark doesn't pull away from the older man's grasp.   

Johnny needs his straining cock out of the dumb, ridiculously tight jeans.

"Such a sweet, little freak," Johnny purrs, his face blank, "very specific about your kinks, aren't you?"

"So, you just really want my cum flooding your ass, and that's it?"

Johnny twists his wrist, wrapping the belt around it and reaches out, pressing the leathery texture against the apple of Mark's cheek, which makes him close his eyes with a sigh. 

"Yes,” the younger nods earnestly, though he flushes visibly, “please, Hyung.”

"Even though you are technically, in name at least, still a virgin?" Johnny knows, but he himself doesn't care much about the concept of it, and finds it overly dramatized beyond belief. Yet, he is reluctant to assume stuff on the other boy's behalf. Though he has his suspicions, but still.

Being Mark's first for anything is the kind of responsibility he might not be able to handle with enough emotional maturity, so he wonders what Mark is thinking.

He is well aware that this can't be an impulsive, in the moment kind of a deal. That's not how Mark does things. So he wants to dive in that head of his and understand why they are doing this.

They have never discussed it but Mark seems to be aware, at least to some extent, that Johnny hasn’t been evading this whole fucking a virgin thing just because Mark fits forty hours of work in a single day and can’t afford slacking off just because his asshole is left gaping and his already sensitive bones ache in all kinds of places that even twelve hours of going at a dance routine doesn’t inflict. 

"Yes." Mark says, firm about this even if he is shaking like a water droplet clinging to the edge of a leaf under heavy downpour. 

"And even though you're aware I don't really do it raw?”

"Yes, —" Mark agrees, before he catches himself. But it's too late, "I mean, uh I am not asking you to, like do me though, for real, real? Uhm. You don't gotta go in too deep so it's not really.. Uh actually fucking.. ?"

Deep red surges up the younger boy's neck, and he stares at Johnny, pleading slightly. 

"Right, yeah," Johnny shakes his head, "you're just asking me to make your ass all sloppy and wet with my cum, that's totally the safer alternative."

Mark's cheeks heat up more, and they glow, light gleaming off them. Johnny realizes with a start, that it's due to the tears from before and his little face is still dewy as a result.

At least he is not crying anymore, Johnny nods.

"Well, today is your lucky day. I’m willing to give you what you want, only because you weren't feeling well but still you endured it and went out with me," Johnny announces casually, playing along with Mark's lie, "So accommodating, aren’t you?"

Mark nibbles down on his lower lip, sucking on it harshly before he let's it go. 

"Your hands," Johnny grunts, "I'm gonna tie them up."

That gets Mark's attention, his lips parting slightly. He nods, a little too quickly and then stops, staring down onto his lap. 

"It's a weak knot, you can pull your hands out easily," Johnny instructs him, as he loops it around Mark's wrists, "If you get uncomfortable with whatever happens and want me to stop at any point, just free your hands. Understood?”

"Okay, yeah.”

Mark responds, in such a manner that it leaves him frowning, not sure if the other boy is processing what is being relayed. 

Johnny glances at him pointedly, waiting for him to meet his gaze.

"I'll quietly walk out of the room in that case and we will never talk about this again, everything will just be normal tomorrow and you don't need to worry that I'll get upset or whatever," Johnny explains, "Is that clear?"

Mark exhales, eyeing up the belt with fascination, "yeah, got it."

“What?” Johnny nods, encouraging him to go on. 

“I can stop you if I don’t like this,” elaborates Mark, and then he sneaks a quick glance at him, “I already know that though, I’m safe.”

The ‘safe’ is almost inaudible, and it makes Johnny feel odd, because he is about to do something a far cry from being safe. But what can he do now? Stop?

"Good. Now, move." He says, pushing Mark down when he just sits there quietly.

"Lie down, head on the pillow," Johnny instructs, a firm hand on Mark's body because he can't help it, "hands up, face the wall, on your side."

Mark arranges himself, twisting his upper body at last to keep Johnny in his view and maybe it's all the yoga and stretching, but the older man doesn't mind.

Appreciates it, even. He likes to be seen, and that's why he hardly ever gets himself off alone, if at all. He prefers saving up; his need for release, his pent up sexual frustration, the way he can just keep going on and on. He enjoys making a show out of it all, to unleash it in front of an interested audience, that's just how he likes it.

"Your shorts, I'll leave them half rolled down." He informs Mark, as he works open his own jeans. He waits for the younger man to give up and look like he has been wanting to. 

Mark can't help it in the end, when the sound of a zipper being dragged down fills up the room. He chokes audibly, his gaze latching on to the way the zipper opens up on top of the large tent the older man is sporting, "It will be difficult for you to move, is that okay with you?"

"Yeah." Mark nods dumbly, licking his lips as Johnny pushes down the jeans, bulge visibly massive in his briefs now, although he knows he can fill out way more with the right attention and enough time.  

His lips twitch out of reflex when Mark's hand clench around nothing. Johnny suspects that he is likely thinking back to the time when he had the chance to take Johnny in his hand, mouthing round his length frantically before he started choking himself on it like he had been starved for weeks.

That feels like something from ages ago now.

He slides closer to Mark, who moves away due to his abruptness for a moment, before he goes rigid when the older man gets his hands on him, digits gliding up to hook in the elastic waist of his shorts. He waits till Mark nods before he roughly pulls it down, almost ripping it in the process.

Mark yelps, eyes bugging out in shock but Johnny doesn't see it, caught up in all the flesh uncovered, pert and curvy, begging to be tormented. 

Johnny bites down on his lip harshly, cock twitching in clear interest.

It's not that he is weak but Mark does have a very attractive figure, a waist some would die for, an ass others would happily die on and he isn't unmoved. He is allowed to be swayed by it if nothing else, he thinks, hands gliding down the prominent swell of Mark's hips and the small of his back to frame the considerable amount of supple, tight flesh between his hands. 

"Pull your knee up some more for me, yeah," he parts Mark's thighs apart, nudging a leg up some more and takes in how the thin fabric pulls taut against the back of his thighs, "c'mon, show me how flexible you are."

His hips stutter unintended, a reaction coerced out of him due to the way the younger man looks like this. 

He eyes the throbbing, scraped mess of a hole, a deep scarlet in shade, shyly peeking at him from between Mark's parted ass cheeks and swears, "Fuck, god what the hell?"

Johnny glares at Mark who hides behind his arms, intentionally placed on his face just for that purpose, "What?" He exclaims, "I— hyung, there wasn't any lube in the washroom, and I— um, I like it — like that?" He finishes, blinking up at him innocently. 

Johnny scoffs, dragging his gaze down to watch closely. He places a thumb on the entrance, and it's throbs, the puffy edges ruddy and pitiful. It's slightly damp, but not slick enough when he dips his thumb in just barely. It makes his cock pulse in sympathy at the sweltering heat he knows he will find inside.  

"Oh, you really get off on torturing yourself, don't you?" He whispers, dragging his thumb to the side just to see the way it expands, closing in right after as it sucks on the tip of his thumb. Mark groans, pressing his arm on top of his mouth.

"Poor little thing,” Johnny murmurs softly, tapping the abused rim in comfort, and then looks up at Mark, "Is this how you want me to treat you? Rub it open forcefully and fill it up?"

He isn't surprised when Mark moves his head up and down, hiding his whole face now.

Johnny scratches the furled skin around the rim, his other hand leaving red trails on the firm swell of his ass that stays just for a few seconds. He kneads it harshly, wondering how hard he can dig in to leave visible impressions for tomorrow without drawing out blood. 

Mark pushes back with a miserable moan, hiding his face away, getting worked up over the bare minimum of rough treatment like an insatiable addict.

"You don't even need me, look what you have done," Johnny chastises him, spanking the abused skin with an audible smack, the tense, trembling flesh captivating him.

"Need you, you you you, hyung—please."

Desperation, he decides, is definitely beautiful on Mark. Johnny would love to know how he will deal with this later. How will the younger man intellectualize these emotions, implementing detachment the way he does, to keep up with the hurricane that is their professional life, Mark sitting right in the center of it recently. 

Will he tell himself at least they didn't have sex for real, will it be stacked up and away as a one night stand? Is he going to wish they had done more, will he think about Johnny when he let's someone else fuck him for real? In this bed, in someone else's bed, or perhaps in some hotel room, cities and oceans away.

"Look at me," Johnny commands, and Mark moves his arms down barely, meeting his eyes, but he keeps the rest of his face hidden from his view, "yeah, keep looking at me, and stay just like this. Don't move."

Will he look at them like this too, so ravenous and wanting, frowning with the ache of wishing to be taken. 

Johnny rises up on his knees and rolls his briefs down, satisfied with how Mark zeroes in on the heaviness of his cock, the girth of it fitting perfectly in the older man's large hand.

"I said look at me." Johnny snaps, thumbing at the wetness settling on top of the engorged head, and Mark whines in protest, dragging his gaze up as if it pains him to do so.

"You gotta keep your voice down too."

He tells Mark, before he climbs over him, placing his knees on the outer sides of Mark's legs. He lifts Mark's hips, hauling him down slightly and Mark gasps, eyes rolling back when he feels the heated, sticky head glide and tug against his entrance, suddenly leaving him worked up and thrashing.

Johnny grips his thigh, hoisting it up even more and presses down on the end of his spine.

"Now, you wanted me to get off, right?" He asks, and Mark nods urgently, his eyes watering and dazed, breath coming out in brief puffs.

"You gotta be still, then. So, so still," he informs Mark, stern and quiet, skimming his hand up Mark's back, shoving his hoodie away to get more warm, bare skin beneath his touch, "act like you're not even in the room."

"I'll pretend your voice is just in my head, and your hole is just my toy to play with and dump my load in, understood?"

Mark goes dead still under him then, studying him quietly from underneath his hooded eyelashes. Johnny can't tell if that is his way of giving consent, or if he's considering his words.

That can be dangerous, he speculates, as he looks for the lube behind him and it makes him frown when the younger stays silent even when he turns around, snapping up the cap of the tiny bottle. 

"Yes or no, you gotta answer me."

Mark glances down, where Johnny is dribbling the clear liquid on the head of his length, lazily gliding a hand up and down on it, thick veins visibly throbbing  He nods mechanically, almost absentminded.

Johnny shakes his head with a frown, clucking his tongue, "Mark, use your words when I am asking questions. "

"Yeah." Mark agrees, sounding wrecked, voice gone throaty and thick. 

"Do you need a safe word?" Johnny asks, still hesitant, "It's totally fine if you do."

"No," Mark's hand twitches, as if to remind him that he can just stop Johnny if he wants to, "uh, no need." He breaths out.

"Sure?"

"Man, I feel th— you know, you're like, um, I mean it's fine," Marks clears his throat, hips jerkin when Johnny puts a hand back on him, "I feel very safe, thanks. Johnny, please.. can you like..." He eyes his cock pointedly, not quite staying up due to it's weight.

Mark gets a funnly look on his face then, brows lifting, "Um, wait— Johnny?"

Johnny hums, gripping the base, and dragging his hand up firmly. He fucks into his own grip, abdomen muscles rippling beneath the skin on display, "Yeah?"

"Uh—" Mark chokes, "Fuck— hyung, do you like, um do you need it? A safe word?"

Johnny’s hand stutter, pausing in a curl around the pulsating head. He throws his chin up, jaw clenching tightly as he stares him down, "Why, do you think I need one?"

He asks tersely, while his psyche dips off for an instant, surveying his memories to find a single moment, of anyone who actually dared, who even bothered.  

"You'd know better. So— do you?" 

Johnny sighs, lips twitching, "No, I don't."

"Sure?"

Johnny reaches out in response, and inserts the tip of his glistening, index finger inside Mark, rolling it around. The younger boy nearly arches of the bet, biting down on the sleeve of his hoodie.

"I'm sure," Johnny says, a deadpan look on his face, "Go on, then. Speak."

-•-

That's the antimony of who he is and who he isn't, but the charade goes on for so long that suddenly even he can't recognize where the pretense begins and the reality ends. It is fitting, he believes. After all, he was born in the land of soaring highs and darkest of lows, but his place was in the middle, neither here nor there. 

His native tongue isn't his first language, he has two names that sound completely different. From a young age, he constantly makes the choice between picking up a pair of chopsticks or a set of knife and fork. His appearance is distinct in comparison to the kids he grew up and went to school with. He behaves in a way which is not expected or encouraged, when it comes to kids who look like him. It makes his hackles rise when people working in the school system, parents of other kids and just random people go and assume that he is from one of the more known countries in Asia. He finds himself firmly correcting others who are way too old to be so ignorant, from a very young age.

And that is the first, and very valid discovery he makes, back in elementary school. Outside of his home, he fits the physical criteria of someone people have limited expectations from, someone who fits in only certain corners, can take up a few positions but not all of them, is eligible to do this but not that, can make choices but can't have all the options. 

And Johnny announced, very loudly in his own head, that nope. No. Never. It's not happening. 

He is essentially the pride, the happiness of his family. He grew up with so much love, intense and overwhelming, that it made him shy at times. He was dotted on and always treated like a free soul who is allowed to choose, to make his own decisions, to ask questions and most importantly, he was allowed to say no, to disagree and have opinions that went against that of his parents.

Johnny was raised with love, like all kids should be but there was an undercurrent of respect which wasn't about their heritage, nationality or culture. It was specifically an indication of who his parents are as individuals, and he learnt to perceive paternal masculinity as subtle, gentle, kind and calm in the face of every peril and the maternal femininity as fierce, fearless, loyal and confident in everyday life.

Johnny took it all, from both and emulated it till the day he didn't need to and it all became aspects of who he was. And that's why he never shied away from announcing that his role models and heroes are his parents.

Back in school, his classmates snickered as he said it for the first time. But he continued, meeting their gazes. 

"I mean, I could have chosen superheroes, but they don't exist for a reason, it's too unrealistic and then you have people trying to be like them, which results in hospital visits. Historical figures are practically strangers, never met them, don't know how they were in real life. I wouldn't want to make role models out of people I only hear about from others."

He grind, the way his Mom did when she dropped him off to school in the morning, "Parents are definitely the safest bet if you need inspiration. You know your parents well, you learn the most from them too, and they wont make you think you can fly and walk through walls." 

He shrugs and nods at everyone casually. Most of them aren't even looking at him anymore, which is a win for him. If they can't meet your gaze, they are embarrassed, uncomfortable or conceding to you. 

He likes being submitted to, and making others fumble is slowly becoming his favorite hobby. 

Meanwhile, he himself was never the one to get awkward and be sheepish just because he was seen as odd. That could be his brand so he was looking forward to establishing his place as the eccentric one even more. It's a good look on him, he was practically born for it. 

Johnny is the single child of those parents who have instilled into him that he is the sun of their solar system, the best thing to have happened to them. They loved him like the planets revolving around one sole center, and he was it. If he can't be on top of the hierarchy, if he has to be in the middle, then he will not be just that. He will make more of it somehow, will always find himself in the center everywhere, he will find ways to stand out and will be in focus everywhere he is. 

-•-

But just like the sun, he burns with heat and fire in him too. It topples over into a horrible temper, flaring up at any kind of provocation, leaving him with physical pain with how much it takes to curb it all in at times. So even when he takes up various physical activities, releases the physical aggression out during taekwondo and kendo classes, Johnny still loses to the impulse, the need that flares up to just bite people's head off, at least verbally if nothing else.  

It's a very sensitive adjustment, going from elementary to middle school. Suddenly, the teachers aren't coaxing and gentle, they are authoritative, always commanding, hell bent on instilling their dominance. It grates on his nerves. 

He was more likely to say 'yes, sure' when he was convinced that he can also choose 'no, sorry'. When he is approached with that particularly oppressing attitude where he is expected to follow orders blindly, what comes out of his mouth is a blank, 'no' or more rebellious, 'no, I don't think I will' and apparently, that is controversial. 

It eventually leads to that one isolated incident, that ends up in his parents in school. Johnny is wise, for his age. He knows it's all just superficial, the praise for his intelligence and confidence, his parents being told that they have raised a very opinionated, self-sufficient child which all then leads to the, big flaw. 

He would do well to be more obedient, show more respect for the decisions that elders make, it's all for his own good.

-•-

Later, he tells his mom that he won't apologize. He explains, how he was not wrong and how unfair it was. She listens, and that's crucial. To be heard and taken seriously, it matters a lot to him. 

"I know I should've gotten the role. I was the best. I got the loudest cheers, even other teachers clapped for me. The kid she chose was fumbling the lines. Why? Because he looks more like the character?" He is incensed, nose burning. 

And that's nonsense, Johnny is better looking anyhow. He doesn't need blonde hair and green eyes to be handsome. 

His mom runs her fingers through his long hair, fringes framing his face.

"I wasn't even disrespectful, I said with all due respect before saying no to her decision and then I said I don't want to take part in the play. It's not the role I wanted so what's the point." he looks at her then, waiting for the verdict. "Do you think I did wrong?" 

His Mom, who is usually way too cheerful has been very quiet since they made their way back. It makes him nervous. Not because he's scared of being reprimanded, but the thought of her not being on his side, it bothers him, guts clenching whenever he looks at her and she looks like she is far, far away. Not there with him. 

"Mum?" 

"It's never wrong of you to say no," she said, pulling him close, "I wouldn't want you to be forced to do things you don't want to, and you should be able to disagree. It's your right to have opinions." 

He waits for her to continue, because that just can’t be it. She definitely has more to say, but she chooses her words with care. 

"I just think when you do say no or you disagree, you just have to be nicer about it. The world is more accommodating to people who are seen as nice." 

Johnny furrows his brows, because... isn't he? nice? 

Ahe smiles at him, as if reading his mind, "Of course you are the nicest," she coos, "you're the best boy, no one compares to you." 

She pinches his cheeks, and he let's her, for today. 

"But there's a different between being a nice person and acting nicely towards others. Sometimes, people aren't but they can pretend to be."

He listens, because she isn't just his mom, she is also someone who works in a very ruthless field, and has a lot of experience under her belt.

"And then there are people who don't act nice, even though they have a tender heart and they are essentially good people.” She smiles down at him, and there is something secretive about it. He can’t decipher the meaning behind it.

“Especially when you’re grown up and have to be in a professional setting, sometimes you need to put on an effort to appear a certain way. There’s nothing wrong with it. It makes things easier for everyone.”

-•-

Always be nice to others, even if you don't want to be, even if you are having a bad day and you feel like shit. That's how the business works. You sacrifice honesty to move forward sometimes, but it's okay till your intentions are good. 

-•-

"Last week, ah— oh, fuck— we, um—me and Jungwoo, we were watching something."

"Porn? You can say it." Johnny drawls, as he inserts another finger in, careful not to go even till the knuckles. He widens them, stretching as far as they'd go against the resistance.

"Well, yeah— " Mark's breathing speeds up, "it was very, um I mean there were some guys so—"

He breaks off, biting at his knuckles when the older man crooks his digits, the forced gape of his hole closing in on them with a loud squelch.  

Johnny sticks his tongue below the bottom row of teeth, mouth suddenly watering.

"It wasn't —well not really like fucking, they just kinda fingered this guy till he like, he just couldn't blow anymore and uh —then, they just spent it all inside him, and like it was so much, it kept running down his ass, because they just put in the— like just the tip so it was a whole mess on the outside, like it was dripping down the table dude."

Johnny grips Mark's hips tightly, and dives down without a warning.

It drags a yelp out of Mark, melting away in a groan, his body thrashing like a wounded animal. Good for him that if Johnny wants to hold someone down, the stay down.

He jabs his tongue inside and sucks before he pulls away with a wet, loud smack. The lube smells like cinnamon and mint, making his nostrils flare. 

"Hyu—"

"What was the name?" Johnny cuts him off, riding the potent, heady feeling of having someone so physically helpless under him. There is perspiration gathering all over his muscles and he is hot under the collar, so he rips the shirt down from his shoulders and takes it off, throwing it behind him. 

He jacks himself off with one hand, and hooks the digits of the other back in the glistening, contracting hole begging to be used, "what did you search up hm? I can think up a few words, Markie and all of them point at you being a nasty little slut."

Mark nods in approval with a loud groan, hips swiveling helplessly.

"It — I think it was something like nerd gets his boy cunt wrecked yeah— I, Hyung—"

"Was he wearing glasses?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Was his ass like yours too?" He circles his fingers around, rubbing his spit and cum on the swollen edges with care. 

".... Well.. it was okay I guess."

Johnny let's his fingers slide out gently, staring at the rosy opening squeezing itself shut without his intrusion.

"Was his little cunt tight and pretty like yours at least?" 

Mark whimpers, adam's apple bobbing. He sucks on his lower lip, tongue slipping out to lick at the seams. He doesn't seem to mind it, rutting against the bed covers. He must be hard by now, for the third time this night.   

He shakes his head, "Nah, don't think so. It wasn't little either. Uhm, not when they were done with it." 

Johnny moves closer, placing both his hands on Mark's ass. He drags the mounds apart with his thumbs, slotting his cock in the tight space and of course they fit perfectly. Mark moans, aggravated due to the frisson, the enormous length scraping against his throbbing entrance.

"So you thought," Johnny snarls, voice dark and menacing from the need stirring up in his guts, "let's recreate this with Johnny. He has the biggest cock around and you probably heard he blows enough load for a few dudes put together, huh?"

Mark arches his spine with a pathetic, needy sound, rocking back mindlessly, "Yeah no, no— ah I didn't. Hyung listen," he pushes back, desperate for more friction, "I actually— I kept thinking 'bout it and fuck. Awe shit, yes. Then, hyung I— 'bout you. A dream."

“Hyung, I had a dream.” Mark says hastily, like it’s a shameful confession. 

That makes Johnny tense, hands digging in the curves he was gripping on to, making Mark grunt from the sting. He carefully drags his gaze up, away from that one place that becomes his priority once he gets going— his cock, and a willing, tight hole, that's all he zeroes in on when the pre-orgasmic itch overpowers his senses.

But this is Mark, so he can't actually ignore him, even if he tried. He’s so horrible at ignoring him that it’s almost a weakness at this point. Perhaps if he could just pretend that Mark was nothing more than a tight, hot piece of ass, life wouldn’t be so complicated. "Yeah? About me?"

He asks, as though it is something new. So Mark has dreams sometimes, nothing new about that.

Mark heaves out a labored breath, nodding quickly. He wipes his mouth, spit clinging onto his lower lip. Just a little more and it will start dripping down. Mark is so turned on, all because of him. He will start drooling over him.

That’s kinda hot and it makes him want to do things.

Johnny could lick it all, he could suckle on those lips and feed him a few digits in there too.

He could also kiss Mark.

They haven't yet. 

Johnny has never initiated a kiss with him, which isn’t that important. They have kissed two times, courtesy of Mark putting in the effort and they never bring about those, partially because of the memories attached to them.

The second time in particular was scarring, because they kinda forgot that Johnny shares his room with Haechan.

"You were, oh it was dark—" Mark starts, voice going wobbly and airy. He concentrates on some spot behind Johnny without blinking, and the older has to smother the urge to twist his head around just to make sure no one is there. Because obviously, no one is there, "I was— I couldn't breathe."

Mark clenched his hole as if the thought of not being able to breathe spurred him on even more to get a dick inside him, and Johnny feels it against the pulsating vein under his cock. He drives up almost unintended, and Mark's eyes gleam, something vivid and reflective blazing through them even though his hips cant to accommodate Johnny. 

"You— I was alone, um— it was itchy, my body— like ants crawling up my skin and it felt like oxygen was gone you know. Then, you… you opened the door."

Mark's gaze centers on him then, pinning him there in an emulation of the way Johnny held him down with his body.

"You came in—" he gasped, as if getting his breath back in his lungs, "and then I could breathe again, you know?'

"You were like asking me what happened," Mark recalls, as if really stuck in his dream, there with him but not really, already floating away in the sweven corners of his mind and severing himself away from reality.

Again, that’s normal. Mark does that quite regularly. There’s nothing weird about it now. 

And even if it was, Johnny never delves too deep. There’s a lot of absurdity that plagues the people in the industry, and having dreams is hardly close to some stuff that goes on out there. 

"I told you, I said, — hyung, I am so empty." Mark whispers urgently, pleading. To him, the one who is right here. To the phantasmal version of him locked away in his dream perhaps. Who the fuck really knows. 

It doesn’t matter how indifferent he wants to be, damp, cold ice seeps down Johnny's spine. It raises shivers from his back, curling around his neck, climbing up his face and gradually spreads down the length of his limbs.

There is a tense, mute moment with the unsettled feeling stranded in his peripheral, the wraith-like ghost of his apprehension. He wills himself to shake off the weirdness away. It doesn’t affect his hard-on and he wants to get off, so really whatever. 

He hums casually, plugging a thumb inside Mark and takes in the dusky red blooming a fiery shade when he rolls it around. Mark sighs in relief when Johnny removes his thumb and replaces it with the head of his cock, smacking it down lightly with audible thuds.

"Then?"

"Then— Hyung, uhm—" He squeezes his eyes shut, when the older man pushes the head in lightly, not breaching but there, like a promise, "You said— ah, fuck. Yeah then, you were like asking if you can help—  I said, yes, please. Johnny, can you cum in me? Just the— the tip, that's it and th—”

The older man rubs the head around the swollen pucker, leaking against it and Mark bucks up when he feels the sticky heat drenching him, gasping sharply at the sensation.

Johnny has to pull back then, and while he does so he can’t help but imagine what would happen if he wouldn’t. Mark in his impatience and need to get things done, will he shove himself back and down on his cock till he had all of it in him? Will he cry out in pain and clench around the thickness of the base, uselessly attempting to squeeze himself shut because he can’t handle it. Will he realize he physically can’t do it and tug himself away? Most importantly, what would Johnny do in that situation?

Will he just let him go?

"And you— you were like, okay sure. And then,” he takes in labored breaths, muscles tensing whenever he thinks that Johnny would finally breach, just drive it in and let him have it already. 

"Johnny, you— you were, fuck dude— inside me," Mark whines impatiently, "inside, come on, please. Hyung, just do it."

Johnny relents, breaking in slowly, a deep growl leaving his lips at the resistance he meets. It makes the savage hiding in the back of his mind antsy, craving for the satisfaction of smashing his way in until there is nothing left to fill. 

But Mark hasn't done this with anyone else, he shouts in his head, vision blurring when he blinks. He slides in barely, encased in the velvet heat and the younger is now all plugged up prettily just like he wished. It's still a tight fit and he will regret it in the coming days when he carries the sourness around wherever he goes. 

The real struggle starts then, to not do what he usually would. For the life of him, Johnny can't remember the last time he had to hold back like this.

"Then—" Mark groans out, so deep that it halts, slipping into a purr.

Johnny's head snaps up, hair covering his stare and the younger man shudders when their eyes meet, clamping around him. Mark slides his clasped wrists in front of his mouth, peeking at him from behind. Johnny dreads that he looks just as unhinged as he feels when he takes in the way the younger is nibbling down on the leather of his belt, spit glistening on it’s ebony shade.

It doesn't bother him that he's going to leave teeth marks on it, because it makes his blood sing instead, a thrill filling him up to the brim. 

"Then?" He prompts, running a hand up and down Mark's thigh, sliding upwards and around to touch the other boy's cock but he protests with vehemence, shaking his head frantically with a whine. Johnny stops, fingers twitching in the air, head inclined in confusion. The younger man pointedly clenches around him instead, and Johnny bites down on his tongue.

His restraint, it's being put through a lot.

Mark flutters his lashes, voice muffled against his arm, "then I kept pushing you— to get you to fuck me all the way in."

Johnny grips himself, fingers tightening on the visibly darker flesh right under the head and squeezes the younger man's hip bone in warning, palm ghosting down damp skin, "Mark—"

He stabs his nails in the thigh pushed up for his convenience, the knee bent and quacking.

"If you do anything dumb," he swears softly, "I'll make you regret it everyday for the rest of your life."

Johnny can fantasize all he wants, but it’s not happening for real. Mark has no business throwing that in his face out of nowhere. 

Mark observes him quietly, trying and failing to be still, but the smile on his face keeps Johnny on the edge, standing on the verge of slipping into something he isn't going to handle too well right now.

"It's a dream, hyung. Not real, remember?"

Johnny swallows the nerves jammed in his throat and it glides down only to get lodged in his gut heavily. He looks down to where they are connected, musky heat emitting in between their bodies leaving everything moist and slippery, sex permeating the air around them.  

He tugs himself away and they both hiss but before Mark can complain, he nudges it back in. The tip is sheated in, snug inside the slippery flesh, and he grindes it around the opening, stretching it with just the head of his cock. He doesn’t push in further. 

Mark sobs silently, bound hands moving to the side so he can hit them against the pillow. The pleasure scorching his insides is almost too intense for it to not be painful but it's still not fast enough to shove him over the edge. He thinks back to how he rubbed himself off to completion twice in the bathroom, and that’s not what he wants now. It's just not enough. 

He pours his words out in desperation, like the hushed prayer he recites everyday, "and you — you did it, even though I didn't ask, and you just plunged all the way in, uhh, so fucking huge, in my guts, ah shit—"

Mark curses, hips lurching when Johnny wrenches his cock out roughly, leaving him to flutter around nothing. The older man clutches the base of his throbbing erection viciously, staring at Mark's entrance closing up, tightening with no weight and girth to keep it unfurled.

"Just a little more, just an inch yeah? Johnny— Hyung," Mark pleads roughly, and maybe Johnny can do that. Just an inch, right? A little more. That's what they had talked about anyway, so it's okay, right?

Johnny dives back in, the squelching of wet flesh filling up the gaps in the cacophony of their rapid, uneven breathing. It feels like he has been working out for hours, and his muscles visibly quiver under the damp skin. 

Mark slaps his hands on his mouth immediately when Johnny jabs in, slipping inside some more and the younger man constricts around him with a frown, cursing under his breath. 

"Hyung, in the dream, I mean. I was like— an inch, please, please—" Mark moans, suckling at he puffy lower lip wetly, and Johnny really can’t tell at this point. He doesn't know if Mark is here, or stuck in his fantasy. If he’s telling him what he wants of if he’s just recounting some vivid wet dream. He doesn't understand, but he still hopes that he gets what Mark isn't saying, what he wants to tell Johnny.

"You told me—" Mark's eyes squeeze shut when Johnny starts a slow, measured pace, a grip on his cock to ward himself off from going any deeper than he should. "Why just that much because, you think I can take more yeah, you said I want it all and then you pressed me down and kept going and I was, it was painful un, fuck—really hurt.”

Wait, what? 

“And I was screaming, and screaming, so loud my voice was an echo."

Johnny halts, eyes widening in horror, "You—"

"But I couldn't tell you—"

After a prolonged beat of odd silence, Mark moves up on an elbow shakily, stretching his neck to glance down where they were still connected before he meets his gaze, the cimmerian flicker in his eyes compelling Johnny with an almost ethereal force to do something insane. 

"What?" He inquiries loudly, winded up by the constant leaps and turns but still not discerning where this will lead them.  

Mark gnaws on his lips, glaring at Johnny's bare midriff, obviously fretting over his reaction. When the older man makes to pull away, he clamps down on him, refusing to let go without a fight. 

"It felt good, uhm — yes, exactly what I wanted— like it felt real good. The best. I was screaming, yeah— hyung, move please," he grunts, humming lightly.

"Because it felt so amazing, Johnny. I wasn't asking just for an inch. I was asking for an extra after you tore me apart on your huge cock, with the whole thing in, you know? I could like feel you in my throat, and I thought—"

Johnny pulls out, nodding slowly even though he’s still baffled and then he keeps plugging the engorged tip back in, again, again and again, as fast as he can, the primitive instinct to fill and own climbing over his senses. He wants it, he really does.

He hasn't felt this kind of rush in a while, with just the thought of it making his dick fill up even more, if that's even possible. He can picture himself wrecking Mark open, tearing him apart and creating a brand new space inside just meant to accommodate him. He would core right in to the depth, seep into the cracks and cavities to the point Mark wouldn't even remember how it felt to not have Johnny crammed inside his body.

After him, no one will ever quite fit in there properly, fill him up just right and it would be like a wound scratched open again and again whenever someone gives it a try and it will be a reminder of him to the younger man. So, Johnny does want it. Badly. Yes. 

And yet it’s nothing but a fantasy. Mark isn't the only one capable of having weird sex dreams. 

"I was so full, there was nothing left to fill inside and I thought that if you'd just fuck it in deeper— bet it'd be in my mouth. I could already taste you on my tongue."

Are you a mind reader now? He wants to scream.

You did taste me on your tongu, did you forget already? He wants to remind Mark suddenly but he iseps his mouth shut, reluctant to feel more exposed and seen.  

"Just—" Mark hesitates, gaze wavering, a glassy sheen eclipsing the lust smoking in them, "wanted you everywhere, you know? But, I couldn't say it, uh — you know, because I told you I'm okay with whatever you want to give me. "

-•-

Ten might have been right, about the whole life being a relentless cycle, the spiraling path and all that.

Years later, he is neither in the States not in Korea, out somewhere on a company tour with people he has grown watching on TV, from the audience and backstage, he covered their songs and learnt their choreography in practice. And now he is here. 

A few of them had gathered, to drink and suddenly it's not groups and idols, it's just a bunch of tired men and women who have all gone and still, are going through the same harrowing process of reaching a stage in their careers that would finally take away the insecurity of being in this industry, the fear of walking on thin ice knowing it could break any second now, but you have to put on a smile, hide the doubts and uncertainty behind makeup and wait. 

Either it cracks and you drone or you cross the distance, it's pure luck then.

A senior who is also on the board of directors of the company finds him when everyone is just sitting around, chatting, a pleasant state of languor pervading the space.

Johnny sits there and listens to him, one ear still focused on the rest because you would be surprised to know the amount of gossip a group of artists under the same label have to share when they get to gather like this only a few times every year.

Johnny likes to be kept updated. 

"They like to think it's like a family, a group of friends, hah, but when is it ever that simple when you have contracts, money and pride involved. It's more like a society, a community." said the senior.

"Can't blame them though. That's how effective marketing is." 

That intrigues Johnny. He hums, gaze wide and innocent, pinning the other man with interest. continue, he thinks, give me some insight on your rise to the corporate top.

You don't start with a slave contract and end up being the one with decision making powers in the company you were basically serving from the bottom of the hierarchy, without planning for it and strategizing your moves. You are constantly working towards it. 

The man sees his investment, so he sits up and continues.

"Oh, you know. There are the elites, the best jobs, privileges, then there are the ones at the bottom, struggling and waiting, almost hopeless. Then there's the mid, the commoners. The ones who are the closest to both sides, the safe stop for everyone. They don't have it the best or the worst, the ones who see it all from their place.”

He eyes Johnny with intent, nodding before he goes on. 

“They are the ones who keep the chain connected, keep the communication going. They become the center, quietly. You stay there and suddenly, you are the one keeping it all together, the one with the most influence on decisions, the one whose opinion is widely accepted from both sides, you're running the show, regardless of how it looks from outside."

Johnny sips on his wine, stone faced, his heart about to burst it's way out of the chest with how fast it's throbbing. 

"I see. That's a very interesting take on all of it, hyungnim." He comments, nodding a little with a smile they teach you to use in interviews, steady and neutral.  

"I trust you would find it of use."

The senior replies airily, patting his back before he stumbles away towards the center where a few of the guys are building a human pyramid, for whatever reasons. 

"And you might just be right.”

He whispers to himself, flopping back and resting his head on the couch.  

-•-

"That hyung, he's so scary." 

Johnny stops outside the practice room, hand going still on the handle. The door opens slightly and when he is sure that the five boys inside haven't noticed it, he simply stands there, head twisting to the side to keep an eye on the empty corridor. 

"Who?" asks Mark, still babyish and careful in his inflictions, a far cry from the casual fratboy energy he throws around when he uses his other language.

No one says anything, and it's like an answer in itself. 

"Ah, Youg— Johnny hyung?" 

Johnny smirks, threading a hand through his hair. 

"He walks in a room, smiles and suddenly everyone is on edge." 

"Even his smile sometimes, it is so... it's twisted. Even some older hyungs don't mess with him." 

"Well," says Mark, and he imagines a tiny frown on his face that makes him look like an angry, unimpressed puppy. 

“You have it wrong,” drawls out Donghyuck before the older boy could continue, “he’s just American. They're all like that apparently so he can't help it.” 

Mark barks out a brittle, surprised laugh before he continues.

"I mean.. he's intimidating— maybe. But older seniors all say he is adorable, I don't know. It could just be the age factor." 

"There are hyungs his age and a few older ones too, so it's just him." 

"Well, it's a good thing then, right?" bless Mark, and his protective little heart. 

There is nothing to defend, as far as Johnny is concerned, but he is still surprised, arching his eyebrows at the defensive tone.

The other three trainees break out with hasty protests, babbling all over each other. 

"What?"

"Why is it a good thing? Imagine being in a group with him."

"No, I am getting chills already."

Mark scoffs, "Really, hyung is actually very nice. So what if he is intimidating, good for us if we end up in the same group."

Mark's voice is casual, but can still make oit the tightness behind it. 

"If he is a little scary, and he is on my— on our side, can be nice, supportive and he is so funny? But others are still intimidated by him. Then I would feel. Safe. ha ha, no one would mess with us. Isn't that a good thing?" Mark finishes, tone all fake cheery by the end.

“Wow, wait you actually made sense there, hyung,” quips Donghyuck, “that’s right, to be honest. If I have Johnny hyung on my side, I'll be above all of you.”

“Uh, right.” 

“Anyway,” Donghyuck announces loudly, “it's not like you all are debuting anytime soon so why are you worried about him? Just leave him to me and Mark hyung.” 

Johnny cups his mouth, and slowly backs away, breaking into a run as he turns round the corridor. He strides inside the washroom, banging the door close behind him and then he stares at himself in the mirror. 

There's a feeling bubbling inside him, rising up and escaping his throat involuntarily and before he knows it, he’s giggling loudly with short pauses in between. The more he looks at himself, the more he laughs and his whole frame shakes with it.

The door opens behind him a minute later, and Ten walks in, his steps cautious. He surveys Johnny, who’s wiping the tears that escape from the sides of his eyes. The look on his face just sets Johnny off again. 

“What are you so worked up about?” asks Ten, coming closer, wrapping his arms around the older boy's waist, “share with me too, baby.”

“Tell me, Tennie. Do I make you feel safe?”

He grins at him in the mirror, before he turns around and Ten holds him by the back of his neck instead, hanging off him as he stares up, gaze narrowed in slits. 

“Depends,” the younger boy smirks, always matching up to him without any questions, “on which setting we are in and what we are up to.” 

“How are you feeling right now?” 

“Depends on what you will do to me next.” 

Someone kicks the door open a few minutes later, mutters a bland, ‘right, of course' which suspiciously sounds like Jaehyun and then shuts it back on them. 

-•-

His hand skids down the contours, the edges and grooves of Mark's lower body and he kneads the flesh harshly. His hole gushes out sticky flecks of lube, spit and precum with every push and Johnny can only imagine the agony he will be carrying around just in a few hours when lust isn't numbing the pain. Everywhere he goes, phantom imprints of the older man barely inside him will be a reminder of some wet dream he had, the dream itself a vestige of what Johnny refuses to give him.

Not yet, he had said. 

What's the point of it now, when he is an inch deep into something he is hesitant to explore in depth, all due to reasons related to his own set of moral compass which is malfunctioning at the moment. 

But still, he can't. If Mark wants to get dicked down, and has some fantasies he wants to play out along with it, Johnny isn't the person. Not when Mark has never done any of this before. 

Perhaps, years later when none of it would be new. When Mark won't come to him just because he has himself convinced that Johnny would never push him beyond what he can handle, would never really hurt him.

He feels warm at times, to have so much trust placed in him. But he doesn't trust himself with this. 

He claws at Mark's ass, his nails leaving deep crescent mars behind and slaps him on one cheek, making him convulse violently. 

"I won't." 

"Um, I know." 

"We are not— Mark, I wouldn't."

"Hyung... I know," Mark murmurs, but he rocks his hips, demanding attention. He groans thickly when Johnny delivers a few more tight slaps on the stinging skin, thick fingerprints almost searing, making his toes curl. He can imagine how they would turn purple, aching and very present on him in the morning. 

“Spill it in me, come on.” Mark implores, breath stuttering and laboured. 

“You're close yeah? it's throbbing like crazy— Johnny, give it to me." He sighs, wiping the sweat off his temple.

"One day," Johnny bites out, teeth clenching when he estimates how long he needs to keep Mark on his cock before it becomes impossible for him to clench, unable to squeeze himself shut. This is obviously not enough, but he wants to see that. Maybe, one day he will, “after you've fucked your way through your circle of admirers and crushes, taken all the dicks you can and some more to the point that you’re bored of it.”

He pulls out and slides in, stopping right where he should. That's enough for now, even as he stupidly offers things he probably shouldn't because his mouth is running ahead of him in heat of the moment. 

“Even after that, if you still want it,” he says, watching Mark's pupils dilate, eyes blown wide, “want me, my cock. Tell me.” 

Mark releases a strangled, needy purr that makes him ache, ready to burst out and make a mess. It might be the hottest thing that has ever come out of his mouth right next to the deep, quiet tone that he had used when he asked Johnny to fuck him all those weeks ago, early in the morning out of no fucking where. Johnny knows that it will haunt him at the most absurd moments from now on.  

"Find me," Johnny growls, and his hands shake, "I'll tie your hands and feet as far away as they'd go from your body. I'll strap you down. Then I'll properly open you up for my cock. I'll do it right and you'll get what you want."

Johnny spreads him, veins in his arms popping out from the force he exerts on gripping his ass cheeks and fuck, he wishes he could take pictures right now.

"I'll ruin you, dive in balls deep and break you apart on my dick like you're frothing for. Trust me, when I leave your cute, little hole gaping wide open after a few days of pounding your ass raw in every possible position I can twist your body in," he pulls out, grinding the head around the wrecked rim violently as he works a hand on his length, "it's gonna look just like a cunt and you'll be dripping my load for hours. You're gonna keep your thighs splayed open so I can watch, I like watching you know?”

He sounds insane, he thinks and Mark is trying hard not to breathe at all. 

“We can take videos, so you can get rid off all that shitty porn you waste your time on. We can watch the ones I make of you getting stuffed full of your favorite cock in the world, while you sit on it and keep it warm, okay?"

He is so, so close to blowing and Mark clenches around him knowingly, chanting his consent in an ending slew of yes, johnny and please. Tears spill out of his eyes, and he wipes them away quickly with his sleeves. He drags the back of his hand against his puffy lips, and there's saliva on his face. 

Johnny would tell him that's disgusting if he wasn't itching to bend down and run his tongue all across his face. 

"Then I will hook your thighs around me and press you down on your back,” He informs Mark, voice sliding down an octave as he gets caught up in his own fantasy, “I'll nail you to the bed on my cock, beneath me and it will be so painful. You'll be sour, sloppy and stretched open. You'll probably hate it, hate me. But you won't be able to push me away, Mark”

Mark shivers violently, nodding at him with fervor as he lets out a muffled sob. His fingers move, hands lifting up longingly to grab at him. He wants to pull Johnny closer, hold his face and claw at his shoulders but they can't in this position. 

“You’d try pushing me away because you are so tired of having a cock jammed in your guts, spilling cum in you again and again till you gush it all out like an open faucet.” Johnny palms his bloated balls, heavy gaze trained on Mark's ass, “But I’ll fuck you harder than everyone else who took you before me, till you scream so much that you'll lose your voice. You'll cry and claw at me, I'll watch you crying but I won't stop fucking you."

Mark slowly blinks up at him, the rawest of emotions cracked open on his face. He looks like he is in love. 

"You won't be able to stop me. I'll screw you till you forget how it feels to be you without having my cock lodged inside your body."

“Yeah,” Mark agrees, just the way he had agreed to going out for dinner, the way he says yes to everything Johnny suggests.

"And then I'll kiss you, and who knows, maybe you will kiss me back, right?"

“Okay, yeah," Mark groans, nodding like a doll on strings, "Yes. Yes I, um. All of that. Everything. Yes. Yes to all of it. Yes. Yes. Yes, please. 

Johnny studies him for a moment in silence, “Yeah? You want that, baby?”

The younger man whimpers, hiding his face away, “Hyung, yes. I want that. I want it so bad. Please hyung. I— you’re not kidding? You won't say it was a joke, later?”

Johnny quirks an eyebrow up, heart jumping up in his throat at how young and earnest Mark sounds, so small and lost behind all of this. It's like the last thing on earth he should be this way about. 

"You promise?" Mark whispers quietly, suddenly frowning up at him in suspicion, "You — dude you gotta sign an agreement though, you can't take this back now. Especially the, the crying thing like, yeah."

Maybe they both are just really sick in their heads, at least that's a comfort.

"Just come to me, or call me. It's up to you. It can be a joke," Johnny offers, rolling his eyes in exasperation, "or I can make your dreams come true. Your call."

"Oh,” Mark nods, still unconvinced by the looks of it, “you better. Still, you gotta sign the paper, we need it in written. Now, can you like— fuck, how long can you hold back, come on dude—"

-•-

His Father isn't the one to show his affection with words, it's always little actions, undivided attention to their needs and just silently making sure that his loved ones are comfortable, happy and enjoying themselves. His love is silent and comforting, Johnny looks up to it, learns from it a lot. 

But then, Fathers always know somehow. They can't be blind to it out of love, instead they acknowledge it because they want you to know that you are loved despite everything, even with everything going on inside you.  

"Just remember your heart with all of it too." 

He patted Johnny's head in farewell, back when they were on tour. 

"You would know one day, that just accelerates your growth. Gives substance to ambitions, a strong base to the power you achieve." 

Johnny doesn't know how to break it to him that he remembers his heart just fine. And that's the actual issue. He believes that he just has too much heart. There’s so much of it that he can fit many people inside it, and he can't give all of it to a single recipient because the weight of it would overwhelm them.

-•-

He'd pull out right now, just when every muscle in his body goes taut, all other sensations numbing except the way his cock pulses against his own fingers, the head throbbing inside the tight, sweltering heat desperate to swallow him all the way inside. He feels his high approaching, roaring against his chest, in the hot, whitening flash in front of his eyes. It's so bright that everything goes dark for an ephemeral second.

It's ripped out of him forcefully with all breaks slammed on abruptly, dragged right out of the back of his navel where it all gathers, leaving him a quacking mess above the boy staring up at him as if he hasn't seen a man falling over the edge before. 

Because Johnny knows he has and he doesn’t buy it. 

He wants to make it memorable, wants to pull out right when his balls tighten and just let it all out, make a mess all over Mark's thread-bare hoodie, on the visible full curve of his abused ass.

He is itching to turn him slightly, to properly put him on his back, and arrange himself in a way so he could spill some all over the strained arcs of Mark's neck, on the sharp lines of his face and the rosy, bitten lips. In a different world, an easier one where he did everything he wanted to do without giving a fuck about consequences, he would have marched right out to bring his polaroid camera just so he can pretend that he was capturing art.

He would have imagined the shine reflected in those eyes to be moonlight, and he'd say that it was gleaming, silver stardust sprinkled all across the bare skin beneath him. He could still do it, find his phone and snap away a few shots so he can dump them into that one, encrypted folder on his laptop that takes up way more storage space than it should. But he won't, not when he isn't even sure why they are doing this.

This wasn’t necessary. This was him being weak and Mark somehow knowing it at least subconsciously. He might believe that Johnny would deny him things but eventually he always relents. If Mark pushes enough, that is. 

Not that he minds it, considering the embarrassing amount of precum he has spilled in barely half an hour. But he had thought of something more—complete. With Mark. Maybe later in future, when he would be sure this wasn’t just a hoax. Maybe even a few years later. Isn't that funny though, because hates waiting. But for some reason, he really wanted to wait. Still wants to. 

He wants to see how far this can go, and if it eventually fizzles out with no immediate sexual incentive like these type of feelings usually do. Because if it doesn't, that would be something. Something worth protecting and preserving in the long run.

Maybe he is delusional, way too unrealistic about it. But something about crossing this line with Mark is daunting and the thought of this transforming into a real thing, beyond just a few sexual enouters, he isn't completely against it. He kinda looks forward to it. 

How very school school of him, he concludes.

It's not like he is the type to back out of some easy, mindless orgasms with someone, even better if it's someone familiar.

But to be fair to himself, he can't have or except the same things from every person in his life. Not when he isn’t even the same person that he used to be back when things got more complicated and less platonic with other people who he keeps close to himself. 

With Mark, he would have done all of this the way that seemed fit to him, and it wouldn't end like this. But then, it wouldn't have started like this either. 

So he holds Mark's trembling body down, by the jut of his exposed hipbone and a palm pressed to his sensitive lower back, and then just let's himself go with a low groan, muscles straining with the pure effort of having to hold himself back. All the patience he has accumulated over the years used up like nothing. It is a hardship to not snap and plow all the way in, fuck right up into the fluttering, slippery heat gripping on to a single inch of him like a lifeline.

Mark wants him. Wants his cock at least. Wants to be fucked, apparently by him in particular. He is squeezing so hard around the head of his dick, Johnny thinks that he can't even pull out without hurting them both. He can either stay right here like this till they both come down from the adrenalin pumping in their veins or Johnny could say fuck it, and shove his way in some more. Mark wants it, and he might not after getting a taste of it. For now at least, Johnny wants to give him everything he wants.

But Mark also has something to prove, so Johnny won't get in the way.  

"Fuck, there you go."

He grunts, watching the glistening redness throbbing around the tip of his spent cock, he spurts a few more times, working a hand lazily on his length.

"I haven't gotten off in a few weeks, that's a lot huh?" he asks, not really expecting an answer.

And he doesn't get one. Instead, there's a renewed ripple of tremors going through Mark's body as he sobs, voice croaky and hoarse. The younger moves away from him, and yet his hips arch back up, not ready to let him slip out of the sloppy, pouring mess.

The realization makes his hips stutter, and he finds himself thrown off-kilter all over again.

Mark just came untouched, quivering like he will vibrate out of existence just like this. 

Johnny's softening cock twitches violently, and Mark keens a little too loud, "Shut up. Mark, the others are still here."

He runs a hand up and down the younger man's arched spine, squeezes the back of his thigh and waits for the tremors to die down before he slowly pulls out, "Shh, it's okay. I'm just pulling out, Mark. Be quiet, baby."

He soothes, hooded gaze still fixed down below. It's filthy, the way Mark's entrance looks so tender and inviting, thick white cum spilling out as he backs away. For a moment, he stops and takes in the painfully taut stretch around the widest part of his cockhead and thinks about slipping right back in. 

But he is stronger than his baser impulses until truly provoked and he always feels like a new person after he comes down from a carnal high.

So he slips out reluctantly, and files away the loud pop, the squelching of heated flesh against flesh in the back of his head for later inspection. 

“Why is it so hard,” Mark rasps, groaning right after the way he does when his bones ache after a day of grueling practice, “It's not like this with others, dude. We're just complicating it I think.”

Johnny follows the slow trickling of his release that gushes out of Mark's body, and distractedly moves around to find that towel he had seen. It is Mark's obviously, he uses it all the time.

Johnny wipes himself with it, and tucks himself away.

“It’s others, not us. Not better or worse, but it's different, Mark,” he tries to explain, and wonders who all these others are. If it also includes the people Mark has had something with, or the ones he is in the process of creating more history with. 

“Different people, different me. You said yourself, remember? We aren’t who we were before. I might have done things differently with everyone too, if I was the person I am today. Who knows.”

Mark pulls his hands out of the belt hastily when Johnny brings the towel down on his ass. He wrenches his shorts up quickly and almost jumps off the bed.

Johnny eyes his own shirt then, thinking he has overstayed his welcome. 

“You didn't ask,” Mark starts, rubbing the red marks on his wrist.

“What?” Johnny ches him, hawk like gaze surveying the other boy from  top to bottom.

“How my dream ended.” Mark explains, not even letting the other man respond before he goes on, “You were— you kept going and going, um, yeah and I just. I took it all. I let you — because I wanted it so badly it just wasn’t enough.” 

Mark meets his gaze, a hand slowly sliding down his own abdomen, “I just felt so hungry— and you filled me up till there was nothing left to fill. Then...you tried to pull away.”

Mark claws the place below his navel, “But— I didn’t let you go. I wrapped myself around you, yanked you in me and I just — I just sucked you in, inside me till there was nothing left of you.”

Mark doesn't look so small like this, with the light hitting his back and illuminating his edges, almost looming over him with Johnny still sitting down on the bed. 

This is, for some irrational reason,  making his dick twitch in interest even though he thinks that should creep him out at least a little.

“And then I woke up, Johnny—” Mark isn't finished yet, “I woke up, right here on this bed and man, I'd never in my life had such an intense orgasm. It was so, so drawn out and just kept going.” 

Wait 

“But you know what's strange though?”

Mark came just minutes ago in front of his , and he definitely didn't clean himself. His shorts though, they are totally dry. Not even a little bit of stain, not a single wet spot. 

“I had a dry orgasm.”

Johnny splutters, dropping back on the bed with a loud thud, head hitting the pillow. He garbels out something unintelligent and then shuts his mouth.

Suddenly, he feels a touch away from getting hard again. 

But there is something else niggling at that back of his mind.

Dreams, yes. Dreams. Mark has those. 

Johnny swallows and covers his eyes with an elbow, thinking about that night under the moonlight, a drunk Mark sitting on his lap. 

“Dude, I wanna like — I was trying to see if I can have it again you know? For real, like the whole week. Yo, I think I can only have those with you. Maybe that’s why I had that dream.” 

“Right.” Johnny says, turning away from him to and curling in a ball. 

“Um, stay? I’ll just come back from the washroom? Okay, Johnny? Stay.” 

Johnny grunts an affirmation but refuses to look at Mark. He needs a minute to himself. 

-•-

Everything is built from stardust, mostly.

The stars burn and burn, they self-destruct, and then they become dust, spreading all over the space; the universes, the galaxies, all the worlds, every dimension and solar system, the planets, the clouds, the seas and soil, the greens and blues, the rocks and every organism; everything that was, is and will be. Everything around us— the land we stand on, the air we inhale, the blood in our veins, the calcium in our bones, the carbon in our souls, every organ, every cell and every atom is made up of the elements that can be found conserved in these twinkling tiny things, as we see it from here — as they used to be, and we could be staring up at a bright blip of light that has already disintegrated eons ago, sprinkled around the space we are breathing in, or can even be found in the nail of your left finger, the skin on your back, the layers of tissues around your heart. 

Are you listening, Johnny? We are literally stars. We even live like stars, always growing and self-destructing. We shed away thousands of dead cells every hour throughout our lives because they don't live for longer than like a decade maybe; the substance that makes up our body is naturally renewed every few years with the abundance of building blocks of life existing around us thanks to the stars, and we still continue to exist, and evolve— we kind of look the same because we generate new cells and tissues to make up for the dying ones, so we are all just a pattern in this transient loop of constant change.

So the person you were before, in past, it's truly fading away technically. You think you were there in the past, and you were in your conscience, but the rest of it, well mostly the rest of it, is truly gone an— 

"Are you," Johnny interrupts, swiping his tongue across his drying lower lips,"changing your major to philosophy because, wow, aren't you so passionate? That's some research you've been doing there, bud." 

Mark lets out distressed, tiny squeaks, rubbing his head against Johnny's bicep. He really is drunk, having chugged down alcohol generously during the mini party they held for him, now that he is about to turn twenty. It’s a huge deal for Mark, getting rid of that teen from his age.

"No Johnny— what? Bro, don't interrupt me," he whines, petulant and slurring his words. "you gotta listen carefully, man. I'm — I was trying to make a point here." 

"Is this, wait— you're not going through some religious crisis are you, Mark?"

"The fuck, dude. No. Honestly, stop distracting me. Take me seriously for like a second. I'm telling you something." 

"I mean, I am taking you seriously, considering how you do sound serious, and surprisingly eloquent too, for how much you drank earlier." 

Mark snorts, pulling away to hook his chin on Johnny's shoulder, staring up at him with heavy scrutiny, and there was this alertness present in the shining orbs that had Johnny on the edge suddenly.

If he moved a little closer, he would be able to make out his own reflection in those eyes, a little fazed, but still intrigued by the sudden turn this interaction was taking. He was very present. Very much there. On the balcony, sitting on the floor under the moonlight that seems to shine a little harder out of nowhere; because it's making him slightly dazed, how clearly he can see the younger boy, his cheekbones glowing cherry red against the hazy, bluish shimmer of the luminescence engulfing everything around them.

"Johnny." he felt the hot breath, so, so close to his lips. "I had a dream." 

Johnny blinked, but stayed completely still, "yeah?"

"You were there," and there it is, the sudden nothingness in Mark's eyes, so vacant even though he is so near, there is no way he can see anything else but Johnny in front of him. 

Johnny is afraid, not of the lack of space in between their bodies, but the distance he sees, so clearly reflected on Mark's face. It's appalling, how someone can be seas and time zones away, and you feel so close to them, carrying their scent in your memories, a catalogue of all their laughs locked away safely, echoing in an empty room in the corner of your mind. But then someone could be sitting half in your lap, holding you so close, too close and it's like he exists in another galaxy, situated in some universe on a different plain from yours.    

"Okay, I am glad I haunt your dreams." He tries to move away, ready to get up. But then their are fingers pawing on his face, holding him with a lot of force than you would expect from someone who is is supposedly drunk. 

"You were a star, hyung. You— are one, you were shining. Not like, light shining but the, sparkly shining you know? So, so bright I couldn't even look at you, it was so hard. You were, like a supernova, a furnace and it was so painful to get close, Johnny. I— I think I was gonna burn dude."

Mark turns, climbing on top of his thighs, still holding his face in clammy fingers. It felt ice cold, his touch against Johnny's cheeks, thumbs pulling at the sharp edges of his lips.

Johnny's fingers jerk, hesitant as they come up, warring between staying on the ground to keep himself steady and holding Mark's waist to keep him up. 

"Oh."

Mark's staring up at him even now, somehow still so small. "And then you just—  boom." he trails off, eyes glimmering for a hot second as if he is looking back on a real memory.

"You just— uh, blew up. All over the place, just sparkling dust and you were reaching all over, to everyone and everything." Mark frowns, eyes focusing back on Johnny's face. 

"I— I just, had to.. you, you were just slipping away, Johnny. I got so worried and, um. I tried to catch you, yeah? But, I think ... you were everywhere, and everyone and everything had some of you, but I was running all over the place and I, I—"

Mark blinked, gulping.

"I just, whatever I could... Icollected it, I mean you. Collected, uh, you? And it wasn't all, all of you? You know what I mean right, dude? That's impossible ha ha. It kept slipping away from my hands. But the stardust, um the you I was able to have, I thought this is more than enough? I mean, because the amount I had, it was already so, so pretty and warm, so uh— I thought that I'll keep it safe. I'll protect it. It's not the whole of you, but it's a part of you. It's still you, Johnny." 

He leans in, out of breath from all the rambling, and his eyes are heavy and drooping. 

Johnny's heart is trying to claw it's way out of his throat. 

"Johnny?" Mark asks, his breath reeks of beer and spices, caressing Johnny's lips. If he leans in, Johnny screams in his own head, just a little. 

"Do you... you get it, Hyung?" Mark moves in closer, his head tilting. 

It tickles his throat, the messy strands of Mark's hair when he leans down instead, hiding his face in the space between Johnny's neck and shoulder, snuggling in with a sigh. 

"Johnny?"

"Yeah," Johnny swallows the ball of emotion lodged in the cavity of his throat. "I get it." He can't bring himself to cough, to get rid of how strange his voice comes out. He is afraid to disturb. this. whatever. 

"And the other thing?" Mark mumbles, moist lips slightly parted, the heat from in between is sending goosebumps down Johnny's spine. 

"What other thing?" Johnny gives up, as he lifts up a hand, finally letting it snake around Mark's waist. His palm and fingers almost cover the whole expanse of Mark's lower back. 

He has to tell himself how horrible of an idea it would be to just dig his fingers in and squeeze, to pull the warm, yielding body closer to his own. 

"We are still who we were, but not really." Mark starts, and Johnny can tell how close he is to clocking out, right there in his lap. 

"So poetic, Mark Lee."

Mark jerks his head and whines, tip of his nose pressed against Johnny's throat. "Johnny, I— no, listen. I am Mark. I am who I have always been. But I am also not, not anymore." Mark whispers, scratching the skin on Johnny's elbow absentmindedly, so cautious and earnest because he wants to be heard, to be understood. "I am not who I was in past, it was Mark, um— me, but I am not him, not that Mark anymore."

Mark sighs, as if disappointed but Johnny doesn't know the reason. Perhaps, it's at himself or it's Johnny, or it's just the situation. 

"It's so hard. Why it gotta be so difficult, dude?" He huffed out, petulant. 

Johnny pats his back, and opens his eyes. It's only then that he notes how he has no idea when he closed them in the first place.

"But you get it though, right? You, you understand?" Mark's breath starts evening out, "It's so hard." He trails off, body going all lax and heavy. 

"Yeah." Johnny agrees, and sits there for a while, staring up at the sky. He waits for the storm wrecking havoc inside him to abate. If he has to hold Mark throughout it, that's a downside he is willing to accept for a while. 

-•-

After a while he hooks his arm around the younger man's shoulder and the back of his knees, lifting him up. He turns back, stopping dead when he sees Doyoung leaning against the door, gaze roaming all over them with the very recognizable, speculative sheen. 

"How long have you been standing there?" 

"You wouldn't want to know." 

He grips Mark closer to himself, feeling a tad stupid just after because it's literally just Doyoung. Doyoung. 

He shakes his head, "Whatever." 

"You need help?"

"Do I look like I need help?" Johnny could pick up three of Marks without breaking a sweat. 

"Yes, you look like you could use a lot of help, hyung." Doyoung says as Johnny passes by. 

Don't engage, Johnny tells himself. Don't do it. It's a trap. 

-•-

In hindsight, Mark is right. Always is, about important things. It is hard, Johnny is perfectly aware of it.

It's so fucking hard, somehow it has always been when it should be the easiest part of all this, this whole idol business, this life they are living. Any genuine, real aspect of this, that they can keep to and for themselves shouldn't be so complicated.

Especially the dynamics they all share, tied down together, growing and bonding with the knowledge that they all have to share the same fate, so either they have to keep each other afloat or else, eventually they all are going to drown.

What they have isn't blood ties and familial relations, it isn't as simple as friendship but it's not entirely heartless, diplomatic working relationship either. Perhaps it is a little bit of it all, out of necessity and personal benefit for sure, but it's there. There is so much raw emotions, a lot of heart in this, and it's pretty inconvenient at times. 

So it is hard, it's very fucking difficult. And it leaves Johnny with his conscience always being suffocated, wrapped up in the tendrils of raw irritation at himself and everyone else in his near vicinity. 

Like right now, as he sits between Taeyong and Taeil in the living room of his childhood home, house. He hadn't thought how warped it would leave him in the head, returning back, with a bunch of people who have been living in his personal space for years, way more than his family and friends ever did. 

Now they are trying to find him, him who used to be, only left to be remembered from time to time in captured pictures of a life that has escaped his grasp, and hid mind for the most part.

It didn't used to be like this. 

It shouldn't be like this, with him sneaking glances at Mark sitting right in front of him on the floor, right under the window. The sky outside appears as if it is projecting Mark's mood, dark and gloomy, so silent that it gets on his nerves. 

Mark is sitting close to the rest of them with a guitar in his hand, head bent low and a cap hiding his face from Johnny's view. They are sitting in a loose circle around the table with his pictures placed on the table and Johnny can't concentrate. To make up for the lack of words, Mark fills the place with mellow, soft music.

It sounds something like, I'm sad, confused, make it better. Make it go away. 

Johnny tells the rest about his high school shenanigans instead and if Mark acts like he isn't interested, then Johnny can also pretend that it's because he has already told him a lot about it so it's understandable. 

-•- 

He did tell Mark a lot about his time back at home, without consciously meaning to. It's not like he thinks, oh I want to tell Mark all these mundane, minute details about his life back in Northbrook. But he let's out bits and pieces from time to time, feeling nostalgic or not really feeling anything, because sometimes you have all these memories stored away in your head without any emotions attached to them. 

To no one's surprise Mark picks up on all kinds of anecdotes and mindless details, storing it all away safely. He remembers things that Johnny has no memory of even sharing with him or anyone in the last few years. 

Mark is physically vibrating with anticipation and excitement when they finally end up in Johnny's nice little suburban house, thin eyebrows almost touching his hairline as his gaze jumps from one corner to another like a child on his first field trip in some historically significant museum. He has little quips ready on the tip of his tongue for every conversation, constantly running commentary like a good, obedient student. One would think Mark is fondly looking back on his own memories, displaying the kind of softness and warmth that everyone must be expecting from Johnny in this moment. 

But Johnny has no clue, he can't decide how he should feel. The anxiety is eating away at him, clawing it's way up from his guts and taking over his head.

Shouldn't he feel like a proud teacher? He has taught Mark so, so well, hasn't he? The little overachiever, the most excellent student anyone could ask for. He is doing so well that Johnny's Mother gets that look on her face, again and again, and again every time Mark runs off his mouth. She darts quick glances towards Johnny whenever it happens, pleasantly surprised a few times but then it slowly transforms into this inquisitive, questioning gaze when Mark wouldn't stop. 

Johnny's knees are going numb with a very, very horrible feeling that something will go wrong.

In any other situation, he would attempt to stir the direction of this train wreck, manipulate it in a certain way so that it would do the least damage.

But Johnny isn't a fool, doesn't overestimate the stretch of his own reach. He knows when he can't curb a narrative, and when things are so out of his control, there's no point in even trying to stop it.

So he physically removes himself out of the situation and goes to find his Dad.  

-•-

Obviously that doesn't make the whole mess disappear because he comes back to Haechan and Yuta laughing over the watermelons meticulously cut in cubes, asking his mom if Johnny told her how Mark likes to inhale the fruit like oxygen. 

"Oh, I didn't know!" his mom exclaims, patting Mark's head, "I will cut some more for later." Mark grins, a little embarrassed and then it comes, the cat jumping out of the bag, the skeletons falling out of the cupboard, the moment that Johnny would have preferred to erase out of existence. 

"Honestly, Mark knows so much about Johnny, I was surprised. All these years, he never said much about about you, so I didn't realize you two were this close."

She smiles at Mark, whose mouth is frozen in a stretch appearing less and less like a smile as seconds tic by, eyebrows drooping in confusion as she continues, "I am happy you're staying back with Doyoung, tell me more about yourself later. I already know so much about him and Taeyong, Jaehyun, also Yuta, Taeil and oh, Ten. Ah, I am really sad he isn't here. Johnny used to say he might debut with Ten, I hope you all get to see him still?"

The silence that follows last for three whole seconds, because Johnny counts and then it's chaos.

Haechan's loud, shocked laugh hurts his ears. Doyoung and Taeyong tend to his Mother, wide, charming smiles in place as they start talking at the same time and she is easily distracted.

Taeil and Yuta converse loudly about how delicious the kimchi stew is. Jaehyun pulls Mark towards himself, and Jungwoo stuffs his open mouth with rice. "Chew your food, Mark." Jaehyun says, dimples out in full force.

Mark coughs, and Jaehyun is there to swiftly hand him a glass of water right away, not losing the pleasant expression on his face for a second.

Johnny places the platter of steak on the table and picks up a plate for himself. He turns to look at Haechan for a second, who swallows his next giggle fit and promptly shuts up. He raises two fingers up in salute, nodding at him with a dramatic sigh.  

Johnny avoids Mark's gaze, which is easy enough, considering how Mark refuses to acknowledge him too.

A first, for them. Mark can never ignore Johnny, not even when he's upset, not even when Johnny is upset, which means he is on the edge of tipping off into the chasm of his own anger.

People usually back off then, but Mark isn't built like that. He avoids him, runs off to clear his head and then reaches out without caring about his pride. He appreciates it, because it's not something Johnny himself can do in personal situations and he knows Mark wears his pride like a war armor, so to be able to discard it just to deal with Johnny, that takes a lot of psychological strength. 

And heart.

But right now Mark's mind has gone into shutdown mode, and his heart might not even be there, which Johnny can relate with. 

It's fine, he assures himself. 

That's why they say there's a first time for everything. 

-•-

It's not like they haven't had fights, silly arguments over stupid shit going in the deeper, unexplored depths of the ocean they aren't ready to dive into just yet, especially if it's together. 

The last time Johnny was truly close to blowing up, it was in Chile but before it could happen, Mark took a flight back with the kids, saying that Haechan must be feeling lonely and wine is not his thing anyway. 

The annoyance recedes a few hours later after he gets to know he is gone, when he wakes up to no Mark with his head held up high, chin drawn in to show how much he doesn't give a shit about Johnny's prissy mood drop. Good, he thinks viciously. He wasn't in the right state of mind to look at his stupid face and put up with his attitude anyway. It's perfect, totally fine with him. 

He spends the rest of the day carrying gloom in his surrounding, and smartly avoids the cameras recording them during their tour in the winery. He would ruin all the footage otherwise, no one wants to see him grounding his teeth and giving no reaction to anything, it doesn't make for good content. 

He spends the whole tour taking pictures with a lot of intensity instead, a thin shield to keep a slight distance between him and his turbulent thoughts from others. 

Haechan texts him, when he is sipping on wine, not even paying attention to the taste of it. 

what happened?

It makes him snort, and he shakes his head with a twisted parody of a smile.

take care of yourself. 

He texts back, not actually answering the question. 

Later, when they all are getting ready to leave for the airport, he gets another text but he doesn't bother with a reply. 

Yo when u come back, let’s go out and talk, okay dude?  

They do end up going out though. So Mark wins, as always. 

-•-

He finds Mark leaning on the window of his bedroom later, after everyone is done with the food and Mark had obediently finished his cup of watermelon cubes, ever so determined in the face of obvious chores. He inhaled it like air and then he had excused himself, saying he needs to use the washroom. 

Johnny took in the warm, if too loud and hyper atmosphere of the home, his childhood house which doesn't feel like his home anymore. But still, it's a home, a comfortable place which gets to witness the merging of his two lives right in front of his eyes. 

And so he backs away, let's it thrive and strengthen as he makes his way up the stairs. He passes by the washroom, finding it empty and his feet drag him towards the place that holds so much of him, who he used to be and the parts he had to discard along the way in the last few years. 

And there he was, elbows on top of the window-sill, staring up at the dull, grey clouds, still, so still he might as well not be breathing at all, a ghost haunting his bedroom. 

The déjà-vu washed over him, like the cold wind after a downpour, or a turbulent hailstorm he had woken up to in this very room, the last time he was here. 

"You know," he says, his tone low, closer to a chilly edge, like the memories swirling in his head. He takes in the sudden jerk of Mark's head, who almost but not quite turns around, stopping himself at the very last second. "I woke up to a hailstorm one sunday morning, in my last year of high school." The last year of his stay in this house, he doesn't need to say.

Johnny acutely traces Mark's fingers, scratching the white paint of the sill incessantly. He makes his way over, no sound of footsteps to be heard and halts a few inches away, staring at the side of Mark's face from over his shoulder. He leans in, bending his waist to bring their heads on the same level.

"I was standing right here." He whispers.

The light, furry hair strands below the younger man's ear and the back of his neck stand up from the shudder that passes through him and he steps back, startling when his shoulders crash on to Johnny's chest. 

"And I was thinking," Johnny pushes forward, trapping Mark against the window. Mark gives a feeble attempt to move, to pull away and probably run off like always, to cool his head, he'd say, to clear my mind dude but anyway so, whatever it's not a big deal yeah? ha-ha.

"I was thinking what Mark must be doing, now? Is he still in the practice room, skipping sleep for days because he has weird dreams that keep him distracted, not eating properly because he's down with perpetual anxiety and home sickness, which makes him throw up everything he eats and hinders his precious training time?" 

The tremors increase with every second that passes. Mark sucks in deep breaths, as if he could inhale all the oxygen pouring in from the open window if he just tried hard enough.

So typical of him. 

"I was thinking he must be feeling lonely, so desperate to belong, to be accepted and have friends, a group, a team of his own and yet.." Johnny grazed his fingers against the painfully tight fist being rubbed against the side jamb, watched the way it froze, "he can't stop feeling inadequate, like he doesn't fit and keeps trying so hard to accommodate everyone."

"Yeah, okay." Mark nods, voice betraying the rigid lines of his face. 

Everyone always mentioned Johnny, when it came to keeping a straight face but even he could never pull off the vacant, casual expression the way Mark did.

I just imagine I am on stage, Mark had admitted to him once, after spending weeks ignoring Haechan due to one of their bimonthly fights that got extended due to hormones, Johnny had theorized, though he never asked. 

He and Haechan had made a pact just a few weeks into their first meeting, that they won't shove their noses into each other's businesses, especially if it was Mark related. He had even offered assistance in torturing Mark, unless it was about something serious. Haechan never mentioned anything about that one argument they had, so Johnny chose not to pry either. 

"Hyung," says Mark, so restrained, but it couldn't hide the way his frame shook against Johnny, "Uh, so I don't thi—”

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you, that you were staying over. Gotta film some content. Hope you don't mind." 

Mark snaps his mouth shut, biting his lips harshly.

"Forgot.." He grinds out, the sarcasm finally pouring out after the rope of his patience snaps, "okayyy.. ha ha, guess what? Well I forgot to tell you, but I am not feel too well since this morning yeah, I think I'm gonna head out, hyung."

He moves around and clutches at Johnny's shirt, attempting to free himself and slip away. 

Johnny drapes an arm around his waist, pulling him close and backing him up against the wall. "Don't worry, stay here. I'll make you feel better."

Mark glares up, face reddening.

"Why, hyung— can't you ask Taeyong hyung, or Jaehyun hyung, hm? I'm sure no one would mind, now move."

Johnny grabs his chin and stares him down, studying the gleam in his eyes oscillating between anger and turmoil, and ah, there it is, that something else in between both that they don't ever bring up. 

"Don't ever talk to me like that, dongsaeng," the older man hisses, low and right in his face, "not while you're calling me hyung. Scratch that, don't even call me hyung with that tone. Understood?" 

Mark gulps audibly, lashes fluttering but he stays silent.

"You're staying." Johnny tells him, "and you're going to be on your best behavior, like the good boy that you are."

He declared, a hand tightening on the sharp hip bone digging into his palm. Mark snaps his eyes shut then, chest heaving.

He nods, "Okay. Got it. Um— Can I go?" 

Johnny pulls away then, and suddenly all the air pours in, light brightens the space, warmth is back in his blood and he smiles, sweet, and nice.

"Sure, Markie. Go, go don't let the others wait, Man." 

Mark doesn't move at first, gaping at him with parted lips, blinking in bemusement. 

He snorts, and Johnny hears the derision, the anger in it. The younger boy sidesteps him and walks away. 

Johnny lets his smile drop, glaring out of the window now. But he frowns when he doesn't hear the sound of the door opening. He turns his head around and sees Mark frozen, staring at the wall on the other side of the room instead. 

Mark's eyes are fixated on the pictures there, old, grainy polaroids stuck in a cluster or more specifically, on the right edge corner. 

Johnny curses in his head, mind reeling back to a grimy, almost dream-like memory. He had placed it there, the last time he was here. 

"Mark."

The boy jumps, head snapping back to stare at Johnny. He looks so, so confused, his eyebrows constantly moving up and down, as if he can't decide if he should be surprised or frown at him. 

"Fix your face," he tells the younger boy, who blinks at him in silence, "and don't act weird around my Mom, dude." 

Mark nods, soft and meek out of nowhere and the defiant, irritated demeanor has disappeared in thin air.

"Yeah." Mark mumbles, shooting another quick look at the wall before he is shuffling out of the door quietly. 

-•-