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Dongmin keeps getting too close.
He’s always like this when he’s drunk, so Woonhak should be used to it by now. He should come to expect the arms around his shoulders, and the face pressed into his neck, and the leg tossed over his own, he should. But he’s not.
He’s been frozen stiff ever since they piled back into the company van. They’re both shoved into the very back seat along with Donghyun, but Donghyun has his headphones on and his eyes closed, so Dongmin has decided that all his neediness just has to be projected at Woonhak and Woonhak alone.
How annoying. Woonhak would complain, if Dongmin were sober enough to actually process anything he says.
Dongmin smells like liquor and his usual perfume, warm and flowery with a hint of spice. He’s breathing, uneven and hot, right into Woonhak’s ear, and his fingers grasp at the fabric of Woonhak’s shirt tightly. He’s too close, too warm, smells far too good for Woonhak to do anything but clench his jaw and pray for the drive back to the hotel to be over.
Even when it is, he’s not off the hook though. No. Because he and Dongmin are roommates tonight, confined to a small hotel room, alone. Woonhak is miserable, and Dongmin clings to him the entire elevator ride. He giggles when he stumbles, pinching Woonhak’s cheek when the younger stabilizes him with an arm around the waist. He speaks, slurred and slow, “So sweet, Woonhakkie.”
Woonhak didn’t drink tonight, obviously. He had a feeling, when he saw Dongmin take his first shot, that his roommate might overdo it a bit. He was right. At least he’s here to take care of him.
When he needs to dig their room card out of his pocket, he has to carefully maneuver Dongmin against the wall. He’s so out of it he can barely hold himself up. The handle beeps and Woonhak pushes it open, gaining a hold back on Dongmin as he tries to guide him through the doorway.
He somehow manages to get Dongmin on the bed, but it’s the wrong one. It’s Woonhak’s, with his things already piled around it, except now Dongmin is on his back, legs draped off the mattress.
Woonhak sighs to himself. He kicks off his own shoes and then kneels down so he can unlace Dongmin’s sneakers. He pulls off one, and then the other, and he intends for that to be it. He’s helped enough, he thinks, he can let Dongmin do the rest.
“Woonhakkie,” Dongmin stammers from his place on the bed. “Help hyung?”
He’s shifting against the mattress, thumbs hooking in the band of his jeans. He tugs, but they don’t move. Woonhak blinks at him slowly.
“Hyung, you didn’t even-“ He pauses. Dongmin is barely even looking at him, his eyes hooded and unfocused. “Damn it.”
He shakes his head and gives in. He knows he shouldn’t — there’s this feeling blooming in the back of his skull… dread? Apprehension? Whatever it is, he’s keenly aware of how his own heart jumps when he settles a knee on the bed, right between Dongmin’s parted legs.
He lightly bats Dongmin’s hands away from his waistband so he can unbutton his jeans. He’s careful—so careful—as he unzips them, but even so Dongmin’s breath hitches, stutters like a scratched vinyl.
“Can you lift your hips?” Woonhak asks, swallowing. It sounds a bit lewd even to his own ears, but Dongmin is hardly alert enough to notice. His response is a barely audible ‘Hmmng.’
“Dongmin-hyung,” Woonhak tries again. Firmer. “Lift.”
Still nothing. Just lazy, drifting eyes and rosy cheeks. Woonhak huffs in annoyance before he starts to tug on the fabric, attempting to force it down Dongmin’s legs. Unfortunately, the band seems to somehow snag on Dongmin’s boxers, and they end up being yanked down to Dongmin’s knees along with his jeans.
Woonhak doesn’t mean to, really. It just happens. And now Dongmin’s eyes are fully closed, and his cock is out, and Woonhak doesn’t know where to look. Getting Dongmin’s boxers back on seems like an impossible feat. Instead, he tugs them down over his calves and off his ankles.
He stares at Dongmin, after. Knee still on the bed, jeans still in his hands, heart still in his throat.
He’s pretty. Which, obviously. Woonhak has always known this, for as long as he’s known him, but it’s especially present right now, all glowy and flushed under the hotel lights. “Hyung,” Woonhak tries, setting the bundle of fabric aside. Dongmin doesn’t stir.
His shirt is rucked up, exposing his middle, and Woonhak’s eyes drift naturally down his thin waist to his exposed cock again. It’s soft, tinged pink at the tip, which Woonhak finds cute. His own isn’t like that. He wants to touch it. Doubts Dongmin could object if he did.
“Hyung,” he repeats, a last ditch effort to stop himself from doing something he can’t take back. Still, Dongmin is silent.
He slides his hands up each long, milky thigh, fingers pressing hard enough to dimple the flesh. Something dark eats away at him, something raw. Something irresistible.
Woonhak pushes Dongmin’s legs further apart, presses them up until they’re bending naturally, until Woonhak can see his hole.
He stares again. Longer. Harder. His eyes trace every curve of his body and every edge that leads to here, between his legs, to the place Woonhak has dreamed of sinking into. He feels himself start to harden at just the sight of it, at just the mere idea of pressing past that ring of muscle. He stares, and he wants, and he wonders…
Woonhak lowers one of Dongmin’s legs carefully and sticks his pointer finger in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it a few times before he deems it ready enough. He nearly curses when his fingertip breeches Dongmin’s entrance — his hole is eager to swallow up the digit, fluttering around his knuckles as he presses it inside to hilt.
“Good,” Woonhak praises. He knows Dongmin can’t hear him, it’s just the principle of it all. He curls his finger and rubs his thumb over the puffy skin of his hole. Dongmin’s breath catches and he shifts, but not much, just a barely-there jerk of his muscles and nothing more.
Woonhak adds a second when he feels brave enough. It’s quite the stretch, with no lube, so Woonhak spits downward to make it a bit easier. It works, enough— Dongmin still doesn’t stir more than a small change in his breathing and these twitches of his limbs that could so easily be ignored.
He stretches him open. He could be more thorough, more careful, but he’s so consumed by his own desires that he hardly even cares. Even if Dongmin did wake up, he doubts he’d remember a thing. Not when he drank as much as he did tonight. Woonhak’s almost sure of it.
When the preparation feels like enough Woonhak’s fingers slip out of him. His hole flutters around nothing, and Woonhak is so hard it physically aches. He doesn’t really bother taking any of his own clothes off, he hardly thinks it’s worth it. He just undoes his pants and pulls his cock out, down into his hand again, spreads it down until that and his precum feels wet enough for a nice glide.
Dongmin still hasn’t moved, even as Woonhak holds one of his legs up and presses the blunt head of his dick right against his hole. Dongmin’s body gives in so easily; his breath catches when the swell of his cockhead catches on his rim but then it’s smoother for Woonhak to push in further. He’s still tight — so tight it makes his jaw clench and his hands tighten on Dongmin’s thighs. Tight and hot and just wet enough to slide, but just dry enough to burn.
He doesn’t even get the chance to adjust to the sensation of being inside Dongmin until he’s waking up.
“Mmm?” Dongmin blinks his eyes open. They’re still hazy, unfocused, still without a coherent thought in his pretty little head. “Wh—what?”
He immediately starts to panic, squirming, pushing away. Dongmin makes these little noises of discomfort that Woonhak tragically finds more cute than anything.
“Calm down, Dongminnie,” Woonhak mumbles. He shifts forward, burying himself deeper, and grasps harder at Dongmin’s legs to keep them still. “It’s just me.”
Dongmin blinks hard a few times deliriously, as if he’s trying to clear the clouds in his eyes. “Woonhakkie..?”
“Just me,” Woonhak repeats. He shifts his hips again, an experimental thing, and Dongmin yelps softly, his eyes getting wider.
“Oh—wha, ah!” Dongmin squirms again, wincing as Woonhak starts to actually fuck into him. His nose wrinkles, and his eyebrows furrow, and his pretty-pink mouth falls open. He tries to grab Woonhak's arms, but it’s like he doesn’t have the same control over his limbs, and they fail to make any impact.
“Just relax, okay Dongmin? You can close your eyes again if you want, hyung,” Woonhak doesn’t stop moving while he talks. It feels too good, and from the looks of it, it must be good Dongmin too, because he’s hard now, cock drooling onto his belly. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Hurts,” Dongmin whimpers. Wetness pools in the corners of his eyes. He looks pitiful.
“You’re fine,” Woonhak answers. “You can take it.”
Dongmin hiccups. His hand limply shoves at Woonhak’s arm, a pathetic attempt really. “Can’t—I can’t-“
“You can,” Woonhak snaps his hips, shoves himself deeper into Dongmin’s heat, merciless. “You will.”
Dongmin tries to push at him again, this one barely a tap to his chest. Woonhak grabs at his arm and pushes it down onto the mattress. He does the same with the other one, both wrists above his head. “Be good, Dongminnie, I don’t want to have to tie your arms together. Do you want that?”
“No,” Dongmin huffs out, and his fingers reach under him to grasp at the loose sheets below him, clinging to the fabric like a vice. The tears start to fall as Woonhak grinds his hips, wetness rolling slowly down Dongmin’s cheeks. “Wo—Hakkie..”
“It’s okay, baby,” Woonhak tells him. He wraps a hand around his cock and Dongmin sobs, hips bucking into his fist. “Just take it.”
Dongmin is noisy. Woonhak supposes he should’ve expected it. But even when he stops fighting it, when he lets his muscles go lax, when he lets himself be used, he’s letting all these whiny pants and moans slip from his mouth. They’re beautiful, and Woonhak likes hearing them, but he does worry a bit. Hotel walls aren’t necessarily notorious for being thick, and their leader is in the next room over.
“You need to be quiet, Dongmin,” Woonhak grabs his jaw with his free hand. His head had begun to fall to the side, so Woonhak tilts it himself, forcing his watery eyes back to meet his gaze. “Hear me? You’re being too loud.”
He’s speaking in a low tone — firm, but almost soft, a whisper through the tense air. Dongmin nods once, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He bites down hard.
“Good,” Woonhak praises. “So good, look at you.”
Dongmin whimpers and his cock reacts in Woonhak’s grip, weeping more precum onto his fingers. Woonhak fucks him harder, faster. The deep pink blush has creeped down Dongmin’s neck, spreading across his skin as Woonhak takes him apart thrust by thrust.
He’s biting so hard at his lower lip now that Woonhak can see them start to turn red, scarlet beading against his teeth. “Oh no, hyung,” he rubs his thumb over Dongmin’s lips and his jaw relaxes naturally against Woonhak’s gentle hold.
Woonhak kisses him then, which he realizes too late that he hadn’t done this yet. He tastes like metal, mostly, even if his lip isn’t necessarily bleeding that much. Dongmin doesn’t really kiss him back; He opens his mouth further, hiccups and whines when Woonhak’s tongue pushes in. He mostly just lays there and trembles as Woonhak fucks him.
He starts stroking him again as they kiss, thumb rubbing wide circles on his cockhead. Dongmin gets noisy once more, even muffled by Woonhak’s mouth.
“Ah ah, Dongmin hyung,” Woonhak breaks away. He grabs a handful of Dongmin’s shirt and pulls it further up, talking lightly at his lips. “Open up,” he orders, feeding the fabric into his mouth. Dongmin lets it happen, but his eyes wrench shut again. His tears track down his face like waterfalls.
His next moan is much more quiet, muffled by his shirt, and with that problem solved Woonhak is able to grab hold of him again with his free hand, pressing his hip down. He shifts his knees on the mattress until he’s at the perfect angle to start fucking him harder, ruthless. Dongmin tugs at the sheets and whimpers quietly around the fabric in his mouth and he takes it, just like Woonhak told him to.
He never expected Dongmin to be quite this pliant and willing. He always thought he’d have to work a bit more to get him like this, but here he is, soft and warm for Woonhak to sink into again and again and again. He feels far better than he ever expected, he doubts he could have predicted just how eagerly his body takes him even when he was insisting otherwise.
Woonhak touches him, and he rocks his hips, and tries to savor every hot sensation that sparks at his fingertips.
Dongmin shakes when he cums — his back curves off the bed and his legs clamp around Woonhak’s hips. White ropes land on his tummy and Woonhak’s knuckles and he clenches around his cock so tightly that it almost hurts.
“Fuck-“ Woonhak’s fingers tense against his hip, dropping his cock with his other hand so he can hold him with both. He thrusts into Dongmin’s oversensitive hole one, two, three more times before he’s cumming himself, spilling as deep inside him as he can bury himself.
His thrusts slow down and Dongmin goes limp, his body spent, sweat clinging to the surface of his skin. Even when Woonhak pulls out of him, he barely moves, just hisses softly and wrenches his eyes further shut.
Woonhak helps slide the now wet fabric out of Dongmin’s mouth. His own breath is ragged and uneven, his head buzzing from his orgasm, but Woonhak still leans down to press his lips to Dongmin’s damp cheek. “You did so well, hyung,” he whispers, and it feels important to do so, even if Dongmin doesn’t remember it. Even if he doesn’t remember any of it.
He helps Dongmin’s half-conscious body maneuver up the mattress and somehow manages to drape the blanket over him. He's still in Woonhak's bed, but he doesn’t feel like getting him to move. Dongmin will make a mess of the sheets either way, he’s sure, with the evidence of Woonhak’s deeds likely already seeping from his hole.
He doesn’t really consider the things that fact will lead to in the morning. Not now. Not when he’s still riding the high of having finally gotten something he’s wanted.
Woonhak flicks the lights off and goes to lay himself in Dongmin’s bed when he hears a sniffle and the rustling of fabric from the other side of the room.
“Woonhakkie?”
Woonhak pauses. It’s too dark now to tell, but he thinks Dongmin is looking at him. “Yes?”
He steps over when Dongmin is silent for a minute. When he’s close enough, he can make out the sparkle of Dongmin’s glassy eyes. Dongmin still doesn’t speak, but he reaches out, frail fingers wrapping around Woonhak’s wrist and tugging.
“Do you… want me to sleep with you?”
Dongmin sniffles again and makes a vaguely affirmative noise. Woonhak is surprised, but he’s not against the idea. He climbs into bed beside Dongmin, pulling the covers over himself, and Dongmin immediately clings to him. He didn’t expect that either.
Dongmin buries his face in Woonhak’s neck and silently, to the point where Woonhak might not have noticed if it weren’t for the slight shake of his shoulders, he cries. Woonhak can’t tell if it’s guilt that claws at his skin as he rubs Dongmin’s back and lulls him to sleep or something else entirely, but it’s heavy, and it’s sharp.
There’s a sudden moment of clarity that strikes him when Woonhak is sure Dongmin’s dozed off. It’s a sudden jolt to his nervous system, the reality that he’s just done something he can never undo, something he will have always done. He took something, and he can’t give it back, and he’s not quite sure he really wants to.
He just holds Dongmin a little tighter.