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Seongmo protests because it’s not true.
Seongmo protests because it’s annoying.
Seongmo protests because he’s supposed to.
Seongmo protests because he has to, because if he doesn’t they might think he likes it. Yechan might think he likes it, and Yechan is unbearable even when he doesn’t have leverage. Yechan would never let it go and Seongmo would never live it down.
He doesn’t make it very difficult besides the protests, though. He’ll deny it but, away from prying eyes, he doesn’t really mind being a bit feminine. It’s not like it’s a performance he puts on: just that he knows he has a small face that people think is pretty more than they think handsome; he doesn’t want to work out and bulk out like the rest of them, perfectly happy with a body that doesn’t show any evidence of exercise; being a man doesn’t mean you can’t like to smell nice, to use a perfume that’s a little floral.
And Seongmo is aware he’s a little shy and a lot picky and that sometimes he makes his eyes extra big when he pleads with the other members to try the food before him and tell him if it’s nice, or when he’s trying to wrangle another massage for his sore shoulders.
He doesn’t want to give that up, so he settles for cringing at physical touch and screwing his face up when the fans talk about kissing and arguing back when the rest of the group try to make a pun out of his family name.
Yechan is the worst culprit for all of this, of course. Always saying Seongmo is pretty, cute, would be the best girl of them all. Seongmo finds a video from a fansign one night, Yechan saying Seongmo is more feminine than anyone else, and he grits his teeth even as his cheeks flush red.
They’re boyfriends, is the thing. Kind of. It’s not something Seongmo ever says, but Yechan does. Seongmo doesn’t think he needs to say it if he’s showing it in other ways. Yechan is the only person he kisses, the only person he lets touch him. Yechan is the only person Seongmo touches and the first person he thinks of when he’s lonely.
He doesn’t say it. Yechan says, “I love you,” and Seongmo says, “I know”.
Making out in Seongmo’s bunk, curtain pulled hastily shut and everyone else out, Yechan pulls away from Seongmo’s mouth just to bite his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. He’s always been bite-y, even before they started doing this, and Seongmo likes it. He likes finding faded pink marks over the next few days, an imprint of Yechan’s teeth. He likes pressing the bruises and making himself shiver.
Yechan pulls Seongmo’s shirt out of the way so that he can suck a kiss over his collarbone.
“Just take it off,” Seongmo murmurs.
He’s not great at being instructive. He can be bossy when it comes to work but when it’s the two of them like this Seongmo finds a new hesitant side to himself. Not that Yechan is good at it either, but he’s eager and impulsive and they find a way.
Together they pull Seongmo’s football shirt over his head, messing up his permed curls and leaving him in a pair of baggy boxer shorts and white socks. Yechan is wearing sweats and a black tank top, the kind that shows off just how skinny and lean he is.
Instead of taking his own clothes off, Yechan kisses Seongmo on the sternum. He strays to the left, almost to Seongmo’s nipple but not quite. Seongmo resists the urge to push his chest into the touch, to encourage Yechan to go for it; it feels embarrassing, too needy and too selfish. He has no idea if his nipples are even sensitive.
Overthinking, Seongmo stays silent and Yechan moves down to his stomach. He kisses around Seongmo’s bellybutton, down to the waistband of his underwear, and then skips down to Seongmo’s thighs. Already spread because Yechan is kneeling between them, it’s easy for Yechan to get his mouth on the thin skin of Seongmo’s inner thigh and when he bites down here Seongmo gasps.
They never wear shorts for stages so Yechan can do as he pleases, sucking a mark into the skin that turns purple straight away. Broken blood vessels blossom and sting. He bites another, an inch higher up, then switches to the other leg.
“Are you done mauling me?” Seongmo says, doing his best to sound unaffected.
Yechan shrugs, pushing Seongmo’s boxers up so high it feels like he has a wedgie and kissing the crease of his thigh. So close to Seongmo’s dick that his hips jump.
They don’t exactly make plans before falling into bed together. They’re opportunists, making eye-contact across the room whenever the rest of the group say they’re going out and coming up with an excuse on the spot to stay in. If Yechan has something in particular in mind Seongmo doesn’t know it.
All Seongmo wants is to get off: it’s been almost two weeks since they’ve had time to do more than kiss, almost two weeks of jerking off in the shower and knowing everyone else knows you are, too. And now Yechan is here, warm and real, and he’s annoying but Seongmo always feels good with him. From the start, even when it was awkward it was good.
Another bite.
Seongmo knows he sounds whiny when he says, “Yechan, come on.”
But Yechan is right there, inches away from where Seongmo is straining in his boxers, and there’s no way of knowing exactly how long they have before everyone gets home. If he gets cockblocked he might die. They need to hurry up.
Blessedly, Yechan mutters, “yeah, okay,” and instead of biting again he pulls Seongmo’s boxers down his legs.
The embarrassment of being naked doesn’t ever quite fade.
Seongmo knows he’s blushing, but at least he doesn’t cover himself up with his hands anymore. He bites his lip and plants his feet on the mattress and leaves his legs spread; Yechan looks like he might start drooling any second now.
Even without a plan Seongmo thinks he knows what comes next. Yechan will suck him off and Seongmo will grab for handfuls of his newly-short, spiky hair, and Yechan will choke on him and swallow messily and then maybe Seongmo will return the favour if he’s feeling kind.
Standard fare for them. He’s got a box of tissues wedged between the wall and the bed frame for situations like this.
Yechan, kneeling between his legs, runs his hands up the length of Seongmo’s thighs and back down. He lingers on the bruises, then rests his palms on the underside and pushes gently.
Seongmo lets him because he has no reason not to. Hooking his legs over Yechan’s shoulders, Seongmo has his head on the pillow and he isn’t looking at what Yechan is doing because he knows, he’s so sure he knows.
It takes a second to register in his mind. Wet, warm, totally foreign.
“What the fuck,” Seongmo near-shouts, kicking Yechan in the side as he scrambles to get away from him. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
“Ouch,” Yechan complains, rubbing at his ribs and frowning up at Seongmo.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Calm down, yeah?” Yechan says, and he’s talking like it’s no big deal.
He must understand why Seongmo is freaking out. He just crossed a line. Anyone would agree with that, surely.
Seongmo feels more naked than he ever has and he grabs his discarded shirt, pulling it over his lap, unable to look Yechan in the eye. He should go. He should- But this is his bunk, actually, so Yechan should leave.
“You should leave,” Seongmo says, to make sure there’s no miscommunication on his part.
Yechan looks taken aback. Like he doesn’t get it. How can he not get it?
“Seongmo-yah,” he says, soft and imploring. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
It almost feels worse once Yechan has apologised. Seongmo wants to go back to one minute ago when he felt good and he wasn’t thinking so hard and his dick wasn’t going soft.
“Don’t,” Seongmo grits out.
Yechan looks uneasy, kneeling in the same spot, still fully-dressed. He reaches out like he’s going to touch Seongmo and then pulls his hand back.
Two deep breaths. Yechan didn’t mean anything by it. Yechan isn’t trying to trick him. There’s no one else home, Seongmo wants to come, Seongmo told Yechan to leave and he didn’t so he hasn’t been scared off just yet.
“I- What were you doing?” Seongmo asks hesitantly.
Matter-of-fact, Yechan says, “I was gonna eat you out.”
Seongmo’s jaw drops and he splutters, indignant.
“I’m not a- I don’t have-”
“Guys can do that, too,” Yechan cuts across him. He sounds so calm that it pisses Seongmo off. He hates when Yechan knows more than him.
But it seems like he does know more in this situation. Seongmo has never heard of that. Seongmo has never thought of that, not once, not of doing that or of someone doing that to him.
Seongmo’s next question trips off his tongue before he can think better:
“Does it feel good?”
He closes his eyes as the words are said, too embarrassed to look at Yechan. Seongmo jumps when he feels a hand on his leg, sliding up and underneath the shirt he’s still clutching over his groin, but it doesn’t go any further; just to soothe him, maybe.
“I dunno,” Yechan says after a moment. “We can find out.”
Seongmo doesn’t want to admit to being so easily swayed by a pronoun choice but, fuck, it does make him feel better to think that Yechan hasn’t done this before. That he isn’t the only one floundering out of his depth here.
He opens his eyes and drops his shirt to the side and lies back down. He spreads his legs again, too, like they were. His cock is half-soft and he has to grit his teeth and he wants to run away, he wants to say no, but he wants most of all to find out.
Thankfully Yechan doesn’t make him say it aloud, and doesn’t make him wait. He drops to his stomach, between Seongmo’s legs, and he puts his hands where they had been before on the backs of Seongmo’s thighs.
There’s less surprise this time but it still makes Seongmo jolt, the first tentative touch of Yechan’s tongue. It feels different to when it’s in Seongmo’s mouth or on his neck or around his cock. It feels bigger, strangely, and it makes Seongmo feel vulnerable. Worse is that it’s so wet, and he doesn’t understand why but even this is enough to make him feel looser down there.
“Yechan,” Seongmo breathes, no words to follow.
Yechan hums and Seongmo can feel that right through the centre of his body, making his fucking balls vibrate, and then Yechan licks over his asshole with a wide flat tongue and Seongmo doesn’t realise he’s moaning until he hears himself.
Encouraged, Yechan keeps going. He presses in so close his nose nudges against the thin skin just above Seongmo’s hole and there’s another thing Seongmo doesn’t understand - why that feels so good, why that makes his cock fatten up against his belly. Every lick is solid, hard, forceful.
Seongmo likes it and hates that.
He could come like this, that’s for sure. If he got a hand around himself, a couple of strokes and he’d be done. He’s considering that, considering the merits of letting it go on a little longer or ending it now.
Pulling back for a second, Yechan breathes deeply and points his tongue and ducks his head. Seongmo might yelp, might scream or might shout, the first time Yechan’s tongue actually fucks into him. Because that is what this is, as awful as it sounds. Seongmo is lying in his bunk, naked, while Yechan is fully-clothed and tonguefucking him.
“Oh, God,” Seongmo cries. His hand flies out and he tangles his fingers in what he can of Yechan’s hair. His other hand flaps in the air, useless, and then he brings it to his own head and tugs at strands of his own, longer hair. Thighs tensing, he doesn’t think before throwing them back over Yechan’s shoulders. It takes away all of his leverage, feet no longer on the bed, but it doesn’t matter. All Seongmo needs is for Yechan to keep going.
If he arches his back he can push into Yechan a little harder; Yechan groans, low in his throat, and works his tongue in deeper.
Seongmo has seen porn but he’s only ever watched videos with girls in. He’s seen them in this position, spread-eagle, someone’s head between their thighs. He’s seen them moan and shake and come from it. He’d just always figured he’d be the one making that happen.
The first time Yechan blew him Seongmo had been standing up while Yechan knelt. He’d felt better about it like that, above Yechan, in control. The first time he’d returned the favour Yechan had been lying down while Seongmo knelt, and he’d felt better about it like that, too, with all the power.
This is something else. This is no control, no power. This is Seongmo whining like a girl, on his back with a man between his legs like a girl, held and fucked open like a girl.
Yechan’s hands slide inwards, pushing Seongmo’s legs open wider, and his thumbs are so close to the crack of Seongmo’s ass that the need to fight back rises up in Seongmo again.
Rises up and is quashed instantly: Yechan lets his thumb stray to Seongmo’s rim and he presses it in, just the tip, hooking it inside his hole and making space for his tongue to get further in.
He has a big mouth and a big tongue and Seongmo has never been more aware of that than he is right now. Seongmo has never even touched himself there, never done more than clean himself in the shower, never tried a single finger, and now he feels fucking sloppy with just how much spit is dripping from Yechan’s lips.
Seongmo pulls Yechan’s hair and his own, digs his heels into Yechan’s back, and feels precome pour from the slit of his cock.
He’s not a girl but he wonders if he’ll come, without even touching himself. He’s not a girl but he’s wet between his legs and he knows Yechan wants to get his dick in him (because if it was him down there he’d want to). He’s not a girl but he wants that, suddenly and desperately, and it’s so humiliating that he sobs.
Seongmo doesn’t beg or plead. On principle, he never does. Yechan is the one who lets his voice slip into something aegyo-adjacent, asking for a favour or a hug or “one bite, go on.” Seongmo can’t - won’t - beg, won’t stoop that low, not when he’s already given up so much.
So he wants to come and he wants to be touched and he wants Yechan to get on top of him and fuck him properly, but he doesn’t say a word. He’d like if Yechan stroked him off, even if it was out of time with the messy way he thrusts his tongue into Seongmo, but he wraps his own fingers around himself.
When his thumb swipes over the head of his dick he feels the way his ass clenches, reflexively, around Yechan’s tongue. They both moan.
Is Yechan a mind-reader?
Because Seongmo didn’t ask for a thing, barely dared think about wanting this, but Yechan draws back just enough to speak and he says, rough and low, “you’re so fucking pretty.”
“Ah, ah, don’t- Don’t stop,” Seongmo pants. Don’t stop talking, don’t stop eating my ass, even Seongmo isn’t sure what his instruction is.
“Love you,” Yechan murmurs, so quiet it’s almost missed, before he goes back to fucking Seongmo on his tongue.
And his nose is still in the perfect place, rubbing Seongmo’s prostate from the outside. Seongmo comes and it doesn’t feel like it has anything to do with his hand on himself, all of the pleasure centred in on that one spot. Yechan keeps going, kissing wetly at the rim of Seongmo’s hole, and Seongmo comes for so long he thinks he must be empty by the end.
Yechan only stops when Seongmo manages to croak out a pained, “ouch,” and he looks up at Seongmo with the entire bottom-half of his face wet with his own drool and a dopey grin.
He catches sight of Seongmo’s come-streaked stomach and raises one eyebrow.
“That’s new.”
Seongmo doesn’t have a good retort. Yeah, it sure is. He’s never come that much, that hard before. So much that he’s worried if he moves it’ll spill onto his sheets, and he just washed them last week.
“Shut up,” Seongmo settles on, five seconds too late and delivered weakly.
The thing is that Yechan doesn’t look smug or triumphant the way he often does after he pulls a prank or makes a joke. He just looks pleased with himself, and when he sits back on his haunches Seongmo can see that he’s so hard his grey sweats are dark and damp at the crotch.
Seongmo doesn’t owe him, knows sex doesn’t work like that, except it only feels fair: he rolls his eyes and huffs as if he’s annoyed and gestures to his belly.
He says, “I’ll have to shower anyway.”
Yechan gets it and doesn’t make him explain what he means any further. He scrambles forwards, kneeling above Seongmo and hunching his shoulders to keep from hitting the underside of the top bunk, and shoves his pants down just enough to get a hand around his dick.
The plan wasn’t to help much more than that but Seongmo lifts his arm and rubs his fingers around the head of Yechan’s cock, playing with his foreskin while Yechan jerks off inelegant and rough like a teenager.
Groaning, Yechan rocks into his touch and says, breathless, “baby, ‘s good.”
Seongmo hates when Yechan calls him that.
“Whatever,” Seongmo says, putting on his most irritated voice.
Yechan comes on him, over his fingers and his tummy, adding to the mess and moaning like he’s dying all the while. Seongmo grimaces because it’s the right thing to do, his part to play.
“Can we shower together?” is the first thing Yechan asks when he’s done, when he’s flopped onto the single mattress and squished up against Seongmo’s side.
Seongmo is supposed to protest, for many reasons.
He says, “yeah, alright.”