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Unsaid tension weighs heavy in the air all around the both of them as the doors of the elevator close shut with a soft ding, and Guanheng silently anticipates the pops in his ears as the elevator takes them up to their shared dormitory twenty floors up.
Sure, post-performance high probably did play a part, but most of that had cleared out with the celebratory barbeque dinner and one-too-many drinks to go with, earlier on with the rest of their members. But there was also something else, a nagging urge Guanheng had so well suppressed for the entire day, really, it’d all started when Dejun had walked out of his bedroom with a full head of sleep-ruffled pink hair—Guanheng knew Dejun was out late the previous night because he had an appointment, but Dejun hadn’t mentioned anything about bleaching or dyeing his hair for that matter—and there wasn’t much time at all to sort anything out so he’d left it at that.
And after a full day, it’s where he is, right now.
Still hot, hard, and heavy in his pants.
And the alcohol they just had isn’t helping. Guanheng’s head feels light and his brain feels like it’s long since melted into useless mush, because one glance over at Dejun beside is enough to make Guanheng’s skin crawl with a crushing need to have Dejun right now, right here. The fact that Dejun still has a full face of make-up on, pretty shimmers around his eyes which had drawn the attention of so, so many others on stage—and Guanheng knew this for sure, because he’d stayed close by Dejun throughout, some uncalled-for protective shit or whatever—, curious eyes which lingered for a tad too long and subtle second glances, heads turned in secret.
Now - Dejun isn’t his, no, not nearly. He didn’t have the right to want the boy all to himself in that sort of way, but it didn’t matter. The fact was that he still did, regardless, and his jaw had clenched so intensely with envy each time he’d spotted Dejun all radiantly-flushed and sparkly-eyed with… men that weren’t him, so much so his muscles still ached in the aftermath.
The elevator dings again so Guanheng knows they’ve arrived at their floor. He glances to Dejun again, and as the doors open, the lights outside cast moving shadows onto Dejun’s pretty face, and Guanheng catches a glimpse of his blown-out pupils, the ruddy flush on his cheeks. And then Dejun looks up at him, bits of fluffy pink strands fallen across his eyes, and it's how Guanheng knows Dejun wants it, too.
So it doesn’t come as much of a surprise when the door clicks shut, and Dejun just lets Guanheng immediately pin him to the wall beside, no time wasted. Dejun’s always so pliant and pretty. It’s one of the many reasons Guanheng can come up with to explain the many men Dejun’s got, helplessly curled about his little fingers. Men just like… Guanheng himself. Dejun sighs, keens into the touch as Guanheng mouths hotly at his neck, gently tonguing over faint healing marks not left by himself, and before Guanheng even feels the desperate fingers creeping up the back of his oversized tee, he knows he’s far gone.
There’s a fond, soft laugh in Guanheng’s ear as Dejun so gently palms at the bulge he just knew he’d find, and Guanheng hisses, hips needily bucking into the touch. He’s too far gone, when Dejun sinks to his knees and looks up with pink stars in his glassy, glassy eyes. Then Dejun leans in so the soft flesh of his cheek nuzzles up to Guanheng’s warm crotch through his pants. Rubs slow circles to Guanheng’s painfully hard erection as a wide smile grows on his still cherry-glossed lips.
And fuck, Guanheng’s beyond saving, really.
“Open up,” Guanheng says—in a poor attempt to re-establish some sort of control, though it’s clear as fuck the one with the upper hand is the boy in his knees—as he laces his fingers through Dejun’s hair, riddled with glittered hairspray which has now mostly lost its effect, the strands are now mostly lax and soft in Guanheng’s hands. Dejun plays into it, as always. Allows Guanheng that semblance of control. Gazes up with wet eyes wide, those fuck-me ones he does so fucking well—Guanheng doesn’t want to think about the many other helpless victims who’ve fallen prey to this—, drops his mouth open, soft tongue falling flat in an open, lewd invitation.
It’s a fresh pink, just like his hair, his cheeks. And the other parts of him Guanheng so badly wished were solely for his viewing pleasure.
Unfortunately, he knows that is not the case, and as a surge of sheer anger and jealousy all at once courses through the veins in his arms and down the curve of his spine, Guanheng delivers his cock into Dejun’s open mouth with a snapping thrust. Of such force, even the skin of his knuckles has turned white where they’re buried inside of the darker-pink hairs on Dejun’s nape.
If Dejun had still been delirious with the need to please and the promise of getting fucked just seconds ago, he’s definitely more-than-aware now, eyes so wide Guanheng can see the clear borders of the pretty aqua-blue lenses his stylist had made him put on for the concert, just as his throat makes an unhealthy gurgling sound. Because it had been without warning, Guanheng had managed to sheath himself inside of Dejun’s unsuspecting throat as well—Dejun takes it, anyway, he always does—and the tight squeeze of Dejun’s helplessly spasming throat is enough to throw Guanheng over the edge. Nearly, not just yet - Guanheng chokes and grasps at Dejun’s head to hold himself together, and relishes in the way Dejun’s entire face has started to turn pink, the first beads of fresh tears squeezed out the corners of Dejun’s eyes when he blinks up at Guanheng.
Still no resistance, nor complaint. No desperate tapping out on his hips, just the quick shallow breaths against his groin, and the meek clawing of Dejun’s blunt nails against his skin, almost soothing the area there.
He’s unbelievable.
So Guanheng pulls out, and Dejun coughs out thick globs of mucus and saliva which drenches his swollen lips and chin in dirty shimmer. He’s barely given a second to even choke out a—Guanheng presumes—confused “why?”, when Guanheng again grabs at the back of Dejun’s head to shove his hard cock back inside of his now-open throat. There’s a bit of teeth involved this time, sharp edges scraping against the sensitive underside of his cock. Guanheng groans, pushing a finger to Dejun’s sweaty forehead in a wordless warning, and Dejun blinks his pretty eyes shut as he lets out a drawn-out, heavy breath, hot against the freshly-shaven skin of Guanheng’s groin, trying to collect himself.
When Dejun is sufficiently lax again, Guanheng begins fucking into his throat in earnest. There’s no holding back this time, not the sharp pain of nails in his hips or the glittery-pink streams down Dejun’s ruddy face, not the sickly-gurgling sounds in Dejun’s throat or the bubbles of mucus frothed up around Dejun’s nose, his chin. Each stroke is calculated and brutal enough. It’s so much Dejun starts to lose his balance, clumsily falling back on his haunches, and Guanheng only backs them up further against the wall behind so there’s some support for the openly-crying boy’s head as he’s face-fucked without an ounce of mercy. Perhaps it’s the alcohol still buzzing in Guanheng’s system, perhaps the hours-on-end of sexual frustration built up over the entire fucking day. Perhaps it’s how pretty Dejun looks getting absolutely ruined like this…
Perhaps it’s just the desire to fuck open the parts of Dejun’s throat no one else has touched.
When he pulls out this time, Dejun is a boneless mess against the wall, wetly gasping for air as he clutches at his throat and whispers out breathy, incomprehensible things. Dejun looks up at Guanheng almost like he feels betrayed, like that was completely unwarranted—and it frankly was—blurry tears in his eyes. Most of all, he looks absolutely filthy – just like how Guanheng likes it, all kinds of moisture on his dangerously flushed face, his thoroughly messed-up hair.
“Heng,” Dejun’s voice is all but a pitiful, scratchy whimper, but he offers no resistance when Guanheng rips the sweatpants off of his hips and pulls him up to his feet by the wrist, drags Dejun into his room and tosses him onto his own bed. Stoic-faced, like Dejun isn’t even worth dirtying his own sheets for, like he’s nothing.
Guanheng’s angry, he makes it clear enough.
And Dejun’s throat still hurts as hell, and he knows it’s fucked up, but all of it really just makes him want to rile Guanheng up even more.
“Underwear.” Guanheng squeezes at Dejun’s knees, and he doesn’t miss out the fresh litter of purple blotches scattered across the creamy skin of his left inner thigh. They look like they’ve barely healed, so he must’ve gotten them in between breaks during their otherwise hectic-as-hell preparations for the concert, the little slut. “Off.” He watches as Dejun—is that a fucking smile growing on his face?—slowly slips off his underwear, and drops them by his side.
Guanheng doesn’t miss the dark wet spot where his hole would have been. Dejun’s wide eyes follow him, cautious, like he knows what is to come. And of course, he knows. Of course he fucking does.
With a growing smile on his face—still glistening with fluids from the rough throat-fucking just prior—Dejun spreads his legs to show off his hole.
A hole so recently used it’s still a raw-pink and puffy around the rim, helplessly squeezing out a filthy mix of lube and cum as it gapes along with each soft breath he takes.
A blinding white light is all Guanheng sees when he touches his fingers to Dejun’s entrance, and the liquid it oozes out is still fucking warm, almost hot. When Guanheng presses in, he’s met with no resistance. Dejun’s loose. Stretched out real fucking thoroughly, and it wasn’t Guanheng who’d done it.
It also probably happened during the fucking concert itself.
“Slut.” Guanheng isn’t trying to contain the venom in his voice. But he also doesn’t miss out how Dejun bites his lip and shivers just a little, with excitement. His cock is hard, and his soft walls clench… barely. “Did you fuck yourself open before the concert so anyone who laid eyes on your pretty ass could fuck you there and then?”
Dejun whines and shakes his head, so Guanheng presses in a third finger, putting pressure on Dejun’s prostate. He knows this, because Dejun’s toes curl and he arches violently, blunt nails dug into his own sheets. It only takes a moment for Dejun to collect himself, though, and the unassuming smile is again back on his prettily flushed face when he says,
“Raiden-hyung made me do it.”
Yeah. Guanheng knows Dejun’s been fucking a number of people. But who else could it have been, really.
That fucking bastard… the one Dejun’s been all over recently, all careless touches and starry-eyed and breathy whispers, tucked away in the unlit corners of their practice room where Dejun thinks no one sees. The bastard whose studio Dejun’s been frequenting for nights on end, only to return the day after, straight to their dorms’ shared shower.
That married bastard, with the obnoxiously large diamond ring on his finger to show.
The loaded bastard, the one who’s showered Dejun with nothing but countless opportunities and promises of more to come…
And just how is Guanheng supposed to stand against that?
The reality is that it isn’t possible, and it makes Guanheng angry. It’s evident on his face, and in the strength in his fingers when he curls them brutally inside of Dejun’s warm body and asks, “Did he?”
Dejun squeezes his thighs together on instinct, but Guanheng eases them back apart with his knees. Dejun chokes out a “yeah”, but the smile on his lips falls when Guanheng pulls his fingers out with a wet pop, leaving his hole stinging and empty. Still leaking bits of cum, but already begging to be filled once again. Not just yet. His fingers shine with slick, Guanheng notes with disdain, as they shimmer where they’re bathed in the soft lilac glow of Dejun’s room. He watches with dark eyes as he pushes them past Dejun’s swollen mouth, and it’s filthy, but Dejun closes his tear-filled eyes and lets Guanheng rub the pads of his fingers against his tongue and suckles them clean nonetheless, trying not to mind the taste.
When that’s done, Guanheng leans down to bury his head within the lewd spread of Dejun’s legs and closes his mouth over the exact same patch of silken skin where Raiden had sucked bruises into, just a few days prior. Dejun reaches for Guanheng’s hair, and as he feels the oddly gentle scrape of teeth on his skin, feels the sudden urge to run his mouth, detail things that Guanheng neither needs to, nor wants to hear.
Dejun whispers that the precise shade of pink his hair was dyed, had been personally picked out by Raiden, who ordered the stylist to give Dejun exactly that, just how he liked it – and immediately Dejun feels the sharp sinking of teeth in his flesh, a muffled groan. It keeps him going. Dejun tells that a worked-up Raiden had pulled them into one of the cramped up stalls during the half-hour delay just before their shared special stage, without a single care that the adjacent ones were still occupied—hell, even Guanheng himself might’ve been unsuspectingly been in there when it happened—just bent Dejun over the toilet and fucked him open on his big cock, with a big arm curled about his waist and a fist stuffed into his mouth, whispered filthy nothings into his ear before emptying his load inside of Dejun’s ass – and Dejun feels Guanheng squeezing at his hips in unsaid anger, as the same pattern of bruises is mirrored onto his other still-unmarked thigh.
Then Guanheng learns that the bastard had pulled up Dejun’s underwear without having even bothered to use a tissue to at least wipe off the spill of cum that had escaped his little gape right after, just patted Dejun’s ass well done and despite it all, still received a sweet peck on the lips because Dejun liked them filthy like that – and it's enough. It’s the last straw, now. Guanheng feeds the head of his cock into that greedy hole, and it sucks him in almost instantly.
Dejun is warm and soft and loose, and his walls offer nothing but a pathetically weak squeeze around Guanheng. Despite it all, Dejun’s still fucking pretty like that – long pink strands strewn across the pillow supporting his head and more fallen across his eyes as he chokes out something which sounds like a plea for more, and uselessly scrambles at the muscle of Guanheng’s arms as he rolls his hips on his own accord and gasps. “Fuck,” Guanheng mutters as he leans down on his elbows to grip at Dejun’s jaw, hard, and takes in the sight of Dejun’s face up-close. He’s gotten messy pink shimmer smeared all across his face, from his lids to his wet lashes and down his temples and scarlet cheeks; and Dejun’s eyes are heavy-lidded and so barely-focused, he looks so dizzy it’s like even the simple task of keeping his eyes open is proving difficult.
But his bitten-red mouth is still curled into a small, satisfied smile as he whines and tries to move his hips to get Guanheng in deeper. Guanheng puts his anger away—temporarily—to kiss Dejun on the mouth. Gently swirls his tongue inside, and moans when Dejun sucks softly at his tongue, teasing. When Guanheng pulls away, he tastes of sweet cherries and traces of bitter cum, and all Dejun has to say, with the sweetest laugh, is “do better”.
It sets him off, definitely. Makes him want to prove his worth. Guanheng sits back up and takes Dejun’s bony hips in a bruising grip, pulls the smaller boy up onto his cock in such a sudden, swift movement it has the entire lower half of Dejun’s back up on his thighs, unsupported, suspended in the air. Dejun can do nothing but lock his ankles around the small of Guanheng’s back, hands fumbling back into the sheets near his head, knuckles white as Guanheng starts to fuck him proper.
Proper, meaning brutally. Meaning, pulling out completely to enjoy the dizzying sight of Dejun’s helpless gape and his tender insides, and not giving it barely enough time to squeeze shut before invading that space, thrusting right back in again. Meaning, each stroke is as complete as it is forceful, each stroke impaling Dejun fully to the root, each stroke an accurate blow to his abused prostate. The compromised position Dejun’s put in, only serves to accentuate the small peaks of his pink nipples and the brutal jut in the thin patch of skin above his navel each time Guanheng sinks in fully. And while it’s a sick sight, no doubt, it only makes hot blood pulse in Guanheng’s temples, as he rubs two fingers to that poor spot, and presses down in coordination with his thrusts.
At this point, Guanheng’s mind betrays him, and wanders. There’s a sudden intrusive thought in his head, if Raiden—or any others who fuck Dejun on the regular, for that matter—enjoy this sight too. Dejun’s small body, clearly taking more than it’s supposed to bear…
And crying. He cries so darned easily while getting railed every single time, it makes Guanheng wonder again, if the many others in question, also like Dejun better with tears streaming down his pretty cheeks like this, swollen mouth trembling around pitiful sobs. They probably do. It makes their hearts swell in their chests, Guanheng knows.
Because best of all, Dejun isn’t even crying for mercy, for Guanheng to stop, to please be more gentle. He’s crying for more. And harder.
“Yeah?” Guanheng grunts, and he frankly doesn’t know what comes over when he unintentionally spouts the next line, “Raiden doesn’t fuck you this good, does he?”
He’d just carelessly vocalised it that he actually gets jealous at the thought of Dejun with others that aren’t him, and as the question lingers unanswered in the sex-stenched air and the smile is back on Dejun’s mouth, Guanheng knows he’s made a mistake, and his pride will pay for it, soon.
“Have you seen Raiden-hyung?” Dejun asks, laughing, dizzy. “He’s a good fuck because he’s so fucking big, Heng-ah.”
There’s no doubt in that, and it’s why Guanheng regrets ever saying anything. His head pounds with anger, his fingers tighten on Dejun’s waist. Raiden’s a huge guy, bigger and taller and broader than the both of them in all aspects, frankly - so it wouldn’t come as a surprise if he had a huge cock to go with. And Dejun’s a fucking slut for big men, right? There must be a reason Dejun keeps on going back (looking past the even bigger things like money and career opportunities, but yeah). Suddenly, there’s an oddly specific picture in his head: Dejun’s petite body completely covered as he’s fucked, each consecutive thrust slamming his helpless body deeper into the already permanently-dented mattress, and he’s writhing so violently it’s almost like he’s trying to escape, but the look on his pretty face is that of pure bliss.
His own darned imagination makes Guanheng’s head spin and his blood boil, and it only translates into even wilder thrusting into Dejun’s body, the clap of his balls on the reddened skin of Dejun’s ass so loud it drowns out the obscene squelches coming from Dejun’s ruined hole. And each time Dejun smiles and opens his mouth like he wants to elaborate on something Guanheng definitely doesn’t want to hear, not right now, Guanheng just grips harder and thrusts to watch as Dejun’s face crumbles and he forgets everything he’d planned on saying to rile Guanheng up. He’s essentially getting fucked-stupid, and Guanheng watches with an odd sense of accomplishment as Dejun gradually, visibly slips into pleasured madness.
And he actually looks kind of adorable. It’s adorable, Dejun’s furrowed brows and crossed eyes—which he keeps on trying to focus, and occasionally succeeds but then fails miserably again once Guanheng delivers a blow to his prostate—and shiny pink tongue lolled uselessly out of his mouth.
Until it isn’t. Because Guanheng is reminded again of how this isn’t a sight exclusive to himself, of others who’ve seen Dejun in this same plight and had their hearts melted, and he feels sick. He’s so sick he feels like he’s about to explode any time with the unbearable heat in his belly, and so Guanheng leans in to kiss Dejun once more, muffling his own sounds with Dejun’s mouth as his cock pulses and spills a hot, thick load inside of Dejun’s used body.
It’s only when Guanheng feels a weirdly hot splatter on his chest and hears a series of pitched sobs, that he realises Dejun’s coming, untouched, with Guanheng’s spent cock still buried deep. Guanheng gathers up the strength to push himself off Dejun’s chest so he can fully enjoy the sight of Dejun losing himself, pale body twitching with aftershocks and squeezing involuntarily each time, stimulating Guanheng unintentionally.
And it’s been a good half-a-minute, but the volume of cum still occasionally squirting out the head of Dejun’s poor cock is honestly alarming, and just… very fucking telling.
Dejun could try to pretend as much as he wanted, about what a good lay his daddy-Raiden was, but now Guanheng is able to see right through it. It makes him dizzy as hell, seeing Dejun’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as he covers his own mouth and cries and cums and shakes uncontrollably all over, flushed chest drenched in his own dirty semen. Because all Raiden, that selfish bastard, could do was to rile him up, and it was Guanheng who’d actually finished the job. Pushed pretty Dejun to orgasm.
When it’s finally done, Guanheng pulls out, and Dejun isn’t able to close his legs, or tighten his hole. He’s spent. He’s… passed out. Guanheng clicks his tongue as he gets off the bed himself, stumbles into their shared bathroom to clean himself up. Then he finds a washcloth and rinses it in warm water and mild soap because… he’s a better man.
Dejun’s still unconscious when Guanheng emerges from the bathroom, and Guanheng’s cum has now seeped a giant wet spot into Dejun’s sheets where his hole is still lax and doing absolutely nothing to stop the fluid escape.
And Guanheng will eventually get to cleaning Dejun up, because he’s a better man. But for now, as he spots Dejun’s phone by the table and sees a notification pop up, there’s something he wants to do, to spite a certain someone.
“Back safe? You did so well today. Check your account, there’s a generous surprise waiting for you in there.”
Guanheng rolls his eyes, and sends three images in response.
The first is of Dejun’s soundly sleeping face - a glitter, cum and tear-stained mess. The next is of Dejun’s pale chest, glistening in a pool his own drying cum. The final is of Dejun’s spread, freshly marked thighs… but the highlight is clearly his gaping, cum-stained hole peeking out between his cheeks, with Guanheng’s thumb gently pressed into the edge of his puffy rim.
“Back safe. Resting well.”