Work Text:
If you check the records, Hao never once claimed to be a good person.
A hard worker, yes. Naturally gifted and intelligent, of course. Wildly charismatic, funny, well-mannered, drop dead gorgeous, stunningly handsome, et cetera—essentially kitted out to be the perfect idol, absolutely for sure. But good? Morally upright? No, not necessarily.
Which is why he lets Yujin get away with more than he probably should.
It occurs to him as Yujin is pressing light bruises into Hao’s waist and sucking hungrily at Hao’s already swollen bottom lip.
It occurs as Hao is involuntarily smacking the back of his head into the arm of the couch every time Yujin’s knee catches a little too much friction between Hao’s legs. As there’s no ‘-hyung’ or ‘-gē’ attached to the ‘Hao’ that comes out of Yujin’s mouth between kisses—just ‘Hao,’ ‘Hao-ya,’ ‘Zhang Hao’.
That he lets Yujin get away with too much. It occurs.
They’re alone in Yujin’s dorm and being disgusting inconsiderate roommates (well, Yujin is, Hao’s just a guest so it’s none of his business); Taerae and Gunwook both took the rest day opportunity to crash at the Jellyfish dorms (or make a conjugal visit, whatever), meaning the second Hao made it through the apartment door Yujin was clawing at him until they ended up hot and stirred up and tangled together on the living room sofa instead of demurely and politely making out in Yujin’s bedroom like they normally would.
Hao’s already kicked his socks off and shoved two blankets onto the floor and is dangerously close to just taking the plunge and stripping himself completely. Like Yujin hasn’t been trying to get him to that point all afternoon, but god, he’s melting in here.
He shifts himself just enough for his shirt to ride up and expose a couple inches of skin to the AC, but, opportunistically, the rest of it gets pulled over Hao’s head before he even has the chance to react.
“You’re a bad boy,” Hao breathes, once the fabric is out of his face.
Yujin pulls back to blink at him, eyes big and dark and glittering with eagerness. “Liking you isn’t bad.”
“I think you’re doing more than just liking me.”
“You never told me to stop,” Yujin says, correctly, and goes back in for another kiss.
To be fair.
When they started this—whatever this is—Hao had not guessed Yujin would be quite so... ravenous.
At the time, he was used to his baby Yujin clinging to the back of his shirt, lifting him chivalrously over puddles and bumps in the stage, curling up into his side under the bedspread in hotel rooms when he’s too tired to even ask for affection. He was used to the silly, soft-spoken Yujin who always says yes when Hao whines at him to order dinner together, who listens so intently to Hao’s worries, whose eyes sparkle whenever Hao wears their matching clothes to practice.
He was used to the Yujin who plays devilishly hard-to-get with anyone besides Hao that tries coming onto him; he was used to Yujin teasing him and tickling him and testing the limits of how much of Hao he can get his hands on before Hao stops him with another ‘once you’re older’, ‘later’, ‘once you’re an adult’.
And then.
“You’re an adult now. To me,” Hao says out loud, at 12:27AM March 20th, in between gulps of room-temp water as they try not to pass out after another grueling late night dance lesson. “You’re 18... in China, so. You’re an adult. Happy birthday.”
He’s careful. Says it nonchalantly enough that noone else picks up on the extra breathiness in his tone, the bit of lip he worries in between his teeth as he meets Yujin’s gaze to check if he’s paying attention.
And he is. Yujin’s always paying attention even when you think he’s not. Always listening even when he’s not looking. But he’s looking at Hao, and Hao can tell beneath the sweat and pink flush and untrimmed bangs plastered to his forehead that he understands every questionable bit of nuance in Hao’s words.
God. Hao is such an enabler.
He never does tell Yujin to stop.
“You smell so good,” Yujin muffledly comments, face now buried in Hao’s hair, “is it...?”
“Mmhm,” Hao confirms with a sheepish bite of his tongue. The fancy little Replica tester Yujin left in his room after the brand event he attended with a note saying ‘this one was my favourite, I thought it would smell nice on hyung, it’s got coconut like hyung likes’. Always thinking of Hao, always remembering the little things Hao mentions offhand, always trying to make Hao happy. And the second Hao first spritzed himself with the tiny vial, realizing: leaving traces of himself on Hao.
“It smells yummy. Wanna eat you.”
He nips into a soft pink hickey he already left on Hao’s neck a couple minutes ago and Hao whines a little too loud.
Maybe it’s a bad thing Yujin’s learned everything he knows about physical intimacy from Hao—never something Hao thought could backfire until suddenly Yujin’s the leading scholar in the subtle nuances of Hao’s body chemistry and the many undisclosed and unexplored methods of making Hao squirm, and Hao gets to lie there while the boy seven years his junior turns every makeout session into a research lab studying the latest and greatest in Zhang Hao Turn-On Technology.
And he hates that he wants it so bad, too.
Is it kind of fucked up he thinks it’s hot Yujin wants Hao to be his first? Is it kind of fucked up he likes being the one to teach Yujin all of this, how to touch each other and feel good together, how to pleasure a man properly and make it so he never even considers girls again?
It can’t be that fucked up. After all, Yujin started it, and continued it, and kept pushing and pushing until Hao finally pushed back. And by that point Yujin certainly didn’t look like a kid anymore—all wide shoulders and bony hands and tight abs and veiny biceps and trails of hair in new places and. And.
So you can’t really blame Hao, right?
And so here this evil little adult boy is, doing exactly what Hao has been not-so-secretly wanting him to do, exploring and feeling up every inch of Hao’s skin, pressing his body that’s grown big and firm against Hao.
“Hao-ya,” he whines, breathy and quiet, and Hao can feel exactly what’s making him sound like that rutting up against Hao’s inner thigh.
He probably—no, definitely shouldn’t let Yujin get away with this.
“You said I’m an adult now.”
“I did say that.”
“I waited. Soooo long.” He nuzzles into the space below Hao’s ear like a puppy sniffing its owner.
“Yeah,” Hao breathes, shaky. “You did. Good boy.”
“I thought you said I was a bad boy.”
“I changed my mind. ‘Cause I love you too much.”
Yujin makes a weird choking noise and buries his face deeper into Hao’s shoulder. Hao knows that—even though Yujin’s too shy to ask for it—he’s so weak to romance. Like the cheesy drama dialogue he and Ricky practice on each other, or whatever pickup lines he sends to his fans on Plus Chat that Hao hears about later from Gunwook’s usual Yujin-related gushing.
And, transparently, it was the first thing Yujin asked after their very first kiss. Are we dating now?
(Hao had kissed him again and hoped it’d make him forget about getting an answer.)
“I’m gonna let you,” he says, curls a hand around the back of Yujin’s thigh, swallows down the lump of guilt in his throat, “show me how you’re an adult now.”
A long pause—thinking—and then: Yujin unsticks himself from Hao without a word and hops off toward his bedroom.
...?
There’s a bit of rustling, drawers being opened and shut, and two minutes later Yujin is peeking shyly around the hallway corner, like he’s checking if Hao is still there.
“I’m still here,” Hao says.
“...R-Right.”
He twists to face Yujin and stares. Yujin stares back.
“What.”
“That’s what I should be asking you. I thought I was being sexy and you just ran away? You’re not interested in fucking me anymore?” he pouts.
Yujin reddens visibly at the word choice, but inches out from the hallway and meekly shows Hao what’s clutched in his hands.
A box of condoms and a little bottle of lube.
Oh my god. He’s so stupid and pathetic and cute Hao might die.
“You...” Hao’s gaze pans up from the condoms to Yujin’s face, and he has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, “when did you even get these.”
Yujin collapses in embarrassed giggling and curls up on top of Hao again, dropping the goods on the coffee table. “Manager. I told him just in case a girl came over.”
“Yeah, all the girls you ask out, right,” Hao grins. “When you’re not making out with me. Or dreaming about making out with me. Or dreaming about doing other things with me.”
“...Mmm.”
Hao’s hand finds Yujin’s hot cheek and he tilts Yujin’s face up so they can look at each other properly.
He’s so handsome, Hao already knows, but it’s crazy how pretty his bare face is like this, all soft angelic angles, staring at Hao like he’s madly in love. Honestly, he’s lucky he’s a ten, because as a solid eleven Hao does have high standards.
Yujin kisses Hao’s palm, lets his lips drag on the skin, lets Hao slip a finger in his mouth. Crazy.
Hao can feel how hard he still is, and inconsolably, Hao wants it inside him. And painfully endearingly, Yujin wants it inside Hao too.
“...You really have been waiting for this, huh.”
“Mmmhm,” Yujin tries to reply and suck on Hao’s finger at the same time, mostly unsuccessfully.
That’s another reason Hao lets him get away with too much. He wants Hao so bad he’ll melt under anything Hao does to him.
He tickles under Yujin’s chin, scratches him like a kitten, and Yujin leans into it on instinct. That’s Hao’s baby.
“Take this off first,” he says, pinching the fabric of Yujin’s t-shirt, and it disappears in an instant (well, gets stuck around Yujin’s head and needs a couple hard tugs to come loose, but Hao will pretend it looked smooth and cool for Yujin’s sake). “And start taking notes, because I know you don’t know.”
“I know everything.”
“You know nothing,” Hao clicks his tongue and nudges Yujin with his leg a little so he can reposition himself on top. Yujin looks so goddamn excited it’s hard not to smile back. “You only know what I’ve taught you, so you try any funny business and I’ll catch it right away.”
“Yes, lăoshī,” Yujin says, mockingly, grabbing Hao’s waist and pressing his fingertips into the soft skin hard enough that Hao has to bite back a gasp. He may be thin, but he’s stronger than he looks.
Though he doesn’t exactly look weak, either, with those abs that’ve been for Hao’s eyes only for god knows how long. Hao kind of wishes it would stay that way; it wouldn't be the first thing he’s gotten to hold over their fans’ heads and gloat shamelessly about. He rakes his hand down Yujin’s chest and stomach, letting his fingers trace the shallow lines of muscle, fully relishing in how it makes Yujin shudder and jolt.
And then, it's just two thin layers of sweaty worn-out cotton between him and dick.
Literally doesn't matter that it's their beloved baby youngest’s dick. Whatever. Hao got here first with zero effort, they should be congratulating him if anything.
Again, he never claimed to be a good person.
Yujin is audibly panting, just staring unblinkingly. He wants Hao to touch him so bad, it's adorable.
“Oh, baby, you've been really patient,” Hao coos, tracing the outline in Yujin’s pants with a practiced feather-light touch, savouring the upper hand he has right now until Yujin regains his confidence and remembers he can easily pin Hao down and manhandle him however he wants and they’ll both thoroughly enjoy it. Let Hao have his moment.
He pulls down one layer, then another, kissing down Yujin’s thighs and nosing at the sensitive skin between his legs before finally, finally sinking his lips over the wet pink tip.
“Hao-hyung,” Yujin lets slip out weakly, all his stupid macho conviction towards roleplaying as same-aged dissipating in an instant.
It's such a sweet and innocent admission, Hao almost loses focus. Almost.
Yujin is actually a little bigger than he expected, but not so big that Hao can't fit most of it semi-comfortably. Yujin’s legs shake when Hao takes him deeper into his mouth, he clenches fists into the couch cushions when Hao bobs his head and moans around him.
Hao's done this so many times (which Yujin doesn't need to know, obviously) that it's incredibly easy to get a virgin off; a couple more strategic swipes of his tongue, the right twist of his hand at the base, and Yujin is spilling all over himself and whimpering out cute little sounds brand-new to his vocal repertoire. Wouldn't coach Taerae love to hear that.
Hao licks his lips. “Feels good? Everything you dreamed of?”
Yujin’s face is buried in his hands and his hair is splayed out on the throw pillow behind him, hay-dry and unstyled (because he thinks he looks best straight after a blowdry—Hao knows all his little idol grooming habits, saw right through it the moment he walked through the door).
“Better, a lot, lot, lot better,” he mumbles.
“I’m sure,” Hao replies, lightheaded.
Yujin grabs the pillow from under his head and buries his whole face in it. It's muffled, but it sounds like he says are we still gonna mow the hay.
“What? Get that pillow out of your face.”
He shifts it upwards just enough to expose his mouth. “Are we still gonna, um, go all the way.”
God, fucking, damn it, Hao wants to eat him alive right now.
Going in for a kiss, he grabs Yujin’s wrist, guides his hand to the bulge in Hao’s pants, groans into his mouth when Yujin makes an instinctive grope. “We better.”
“Ugh, you taste...”
“Like your dick, yeah. What did you think?”
Yujin flushes. “I just. Can't believe. I think I love you.”
Hao can’t think of any response besides my mouth tends to have that effect on people so he kisses Yujin again, and again and again until his head gets fuzzy and he’s being flipped onto his back and touched and squeezed and worshipped all over. It’s so good he doesn’t mind turning his brain off.
And it’s not like he doesn’t love Yujin back, it’s just. Complicated. Or something.
Yujin is so much more sheltered than he realizes, for one.
And Hao’s in his mid 20s begging for 18-year-old dick; that’s a complication he’d rather not spend too much time thinking about, for two.
“Want you inside,” Hao pants when Yujin is back kissing the bruises patterned down his neck. “Wanna teach you how to open me up.”
“I can do it for you,” Yujin says with a truly desperate amount of sincerity, and tugs at Hao’s waistband so he can finally shimmy out of his pants. And chokes on an inhale when Hao is finally laid bare in front of him, waiting to be devoured. They’ve seen each other naked before—they all have—in between showers, during dangerously quick outfit changes, just strolling around the dorm with their asses out, but not like this. Staring eye-to-eye hungry and wanting.
“I told you you’re going to take notes. Pass me the lube.”
He does. Hao uncaps it, warms some up in his hands, reaches down to press a finger against his hole—watching how Yujin’s gaze is locked onto his every motion. His diligent little student. Not that this is exactly the kind of teaching Hao’s trained for, but.
He bites his lip as he sinks the first digit in.
“Can I.”
“Mm-hm,” Hao exhales, and Yujin reaches over and thumbs gently over the head of his cock, spreading his precome down the shaft.
Hao can bet anything he looks gorgeous right now with the way Yujin’s big dark eyes are open wide and glossed over, watering so slightly from his refusal to blink while he takes in the sight of Hao.
“Am I the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
“Yeah,” Yujin breathes, completely unironically, and it makes Hao laugh. He’s already getting hard again, too—youth must be so wonderful.
He slips his hand over Hao’s, almost enveloping it. “Let me try. I can do it.”
“...Show me your nails.”
Yujin sticks out his hand for inspection, “I cut them every three days.”
It’s true, they’re neatly trimmed, as well as long and slim and veiny and hard to say no to.
“Yeah, fine, c’mon,” Hao says, and spreads himself, looking up at Yujin all sultry the way he knows works wonders on any man alive. Yujin’s cock twitches between his legs.
“I want to—together,” Yujin gulps. He grabs Hao’s hand and threads their fingers together.
God, he’s so ridiculously cute. How is Hao supposed to deny him anything.
With a little more lube, they slide in together, still interlocked.
Yujin touches him so reverently Hao almost starts feeling bad for sleeping around, even though nobody ever asked him not to. Maybe that's a mean loophole for Hao to have been exploiting. Maybe—depending on how good Yujin can fuck him—maybe he’ll let his little wannabe boyfriend finally get exclusive rights.
Their parallel knuckles rub up against his walls, so good and thick and rigid it knocks the breath out of him for a half second.
“Get a little deeper,” he urges, guiding them in the right direction, “and press, use your fingertips, yeah.”
“Like...?”
It tingles and a jolt of pleasure runs through Hao. He's usually sensitive like this, but his body feels more responsive than usual—maybe it's the naïve eyes drinking in the sight of him. Maybe it's the performer instinct. “Mm. Mhm. Just like that.”
“Oh.” Yujin looks thrilled, almost scared.
“You ever thought of trying this on yourself?”
“No. Um. I don’t know,” he stutters out nervously. Aha. That may be fun to experiment with later.
But right now Hao is tired of pretending he's not already ready for Yujin to finally rail him into the couch, so.
He reaches over with his free hand and feels blindly around for a condom.
Yujin fumbles three times tearing open the wrapper so Hao gently pries it from his hands and does it for him, rolls it onto his cock, pumps him a couple times for good measure—and then his tip is at Hao’s entrance, and then he’s pushing in, with his grip on Hao’s waist keeping him steady.
“Ah, Yujin, that’s—”
Yujin groans as he bottoms out, eyes squeezed shut, looking like he’s holding onto Hao for dear life. “Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god.”
He fills up Hao better than Hao ever imagined, which is unfortunately a lot as of recently, ever since their makeouts have gotten more frequent and more handsy and more uncontrollable, since Yujin’s looked more and more like he wants to bend Hao over any available surface, whether in the dorms or after practice or in the middle of goddamn schedules. Fucking hell. He’s pulsing thick and hot inside of Hao. Like for real now.
Yujin doesn’t look like he believes it either.
“You good?”
“Mm,” Yujin trembles a little and it drives him nearly imperceptibly deeper, “feels really good, really—”
“Feels even better if you actually move,” Hao teases with a breathy half-laugh. “Come on, baby.”
He tugs Yujin’s arm so they can meet in a kiss, sweet and tender until Yujin really does start moving, and.
Apparently all the stupid fuckboy hip thrusting tiktoks he filmed with Matthew weren’t for nothing. Or maybe Yujin just is a ridiculous instinctual prodigy at everything he tries. He fucks steady into Hao like it’s not his first time, kisses him open-mouthed, runs his hands up and down Hao’s sides, brushing against all the most sensitive parts on purpose because he’s a menace.
“Fuck, yes, more, that’s it—you’re so good for me, such a good listener—”
Yujin whines a little. He always did respond well to praise.
Like he’s petting a cat, Hao weaves his fingers through Yujin’s sweat-soaked hair, tucks it behind his ear, lets him know he’s doing such a good job.
“You can go harder,” he whispers, “hyung-ah can take it, promise.”
He likes it rough, likes it when his brain turns off, doesn’t want to think about the consequences of his actions, just wants to feel all of Yujin.
In that way, it’s kind of the same as when they cuddle—when Yujin is little spoon in Hao’s arms and they’re rookies again, finding each other in a quiet place, syncing their breath until the bad thoughts all fade into the background.
“I don’t know how,” Yujin gasps. “Feel like I can’t control myself. I might be crazy. I wanna get married.”
“You’re insane,” Hao says, hooking his ankles behind Yujin’s back, a little bit of leverage so he can rock his hips and fuck himself deeper onto Yujin’s cock, matching tempo with his thrusts, and—there—
“God, right there, Yujin-ah,” he moans, and suddenly there’s a muscled arm slipping behind his back and he’s being lifted and held tight in place while Yujin presses hard into him at that angle like a fucking animal.
They pant into each others mouths out of time with their bodies, something like a 7:4 polyrhythm, and a string of squeaky ah-ah-ahs tumble out from deep in Hao’s throat, wrapping one arm around Yujin and shoving the other desperately between the both of them to jerk himself off.
“Love you so much, love you, love you,” Yujin starts babbling mindlessly, gripping Hao so hard it hurts, and Hao knows he’s close—feels it in the way his hips begin stuttering and his voice trembling, sweet thing. “Love you, Hao, please, please—”
“Don’t need my permission,” Hao pants, “c’mon, you’re almost there, making hyung feel so good, gotta just. Yeah. Little more.”
That does it—he buries himself all the way, rammed up against Hao’s prostate and he doesn’t even know, just chasing his own release—and then collapses onto Hao like a sandbag, energy spent, face buried between Hao’s shoulder and the couch while he catches his breath.
“Fuck, gonna—”
Hao bites his lip and comes into his own hand with a choked-out moan. Guess he squeezes a little without realizing, too, because Yujin suddenly shivers and pulls out.
“Sorry,” Yujin whispers. “Um.”
“You’re good. Just don’t forget next time.”
“Next... oh.”
He flushes and covers his face like it’s some sort of scandalous suggestion, like he truly believed Hao would only grant him the privilege of letting him hit once. Like he was putting everything on the line on a random Tuesday, all for Hao.
“You’re so cute,” Hao blurts.
“Okay.”
“I lost count of how many times you confessed your love while you were fucking me, by the way.”
“Okay,” Yujin mumbles directly into the couch cushion. He’s come down from his confidence high and is perfectly susceptible to teasing; it’s impossible to not take advantage at least a little. Hao lands a smooch on his cheek.
“You should get some wipes and clean up before we stain the couch,” he says gently. “No chance those two won’t notice tomorrow if you mess something up.”
“I’ll tell them it was your fault,” Yujin jokes, and finally peels himself off Hao so he can pull his mildly dirty pants back on and search the dorm for something to wipe down with, leaving Hao to have a small mental breakdown about the implications of Yujin mentioning whatever’s going on between them to anyone.
It’s fine. It’s so fine. He finds his own clothes in a crumpled heap on the carpet, grabs a tissue off the coffee table and wipes the come off his stomach before it dries, dresses himself half-decently and stumbles over to the kitchen and gulps down a glass of tap water and takes some very deep breaths.
Yujin’s arms wrap around him from behind, and there’s a damp washcloth in his hand that he doesn’t let touch Hao’s body before getting permission.
Are you okay? and Can I?
He understands Yujin’s silent questions without trying. Leans into him, lets him so so tenderly and carefully clean Hao up.
“Listen,” he says tentatively, “You know we shouldn’t be—”
Knock knock knock.
Someone’s at the door and for a split second every progressively worsening scenario flashes through Hao’s mind—misdirected delivery food, their manager, a neighbour with a noise complaint, a roommate back too early, a stalker—
“Ah. Forgot my mom was coming.”
Yujin trots off to slip his t-shirt on and unlock the door like nothing’s happened. Except Hao can hear the tremble in his voice when he greets his mother, how he stumbles over his unnecessary explanation of why Hao is over and where his usual roommates are (quietly skipping past why are you so red, honey?), sees him wipe the sweat off his hands and onto his pants, which are failing miserably to conceal the fact he’s got nothing on underneath.
Turns out Ms. Han was dropping by to deliver some homemade food and snacks for her darling son, and is apparently overjoyed to get the unexpected chance to say hi to Hao as well.
“Hao-ssi, you’re such a good influence on our Yujinie, gosh,” Ms. Han gushes, clasping her hands together. “He’s always telling us how you take such good care of him. And he loves showing off his Chinese phrases.”
“Wŏmen dă xŭduō huíhé ba, lăoshī,” Yujin interjects happily.
“Mmhm.” Hao puts on his work smile and tries to kill Yujin with his mind as he very casually slides his hand to hide the marks on his neck.
Naturally, Yujin is snacking on the fresh warm bungeoppang without a care in the world, shit-eating grin on his face like he didn’t just tell Hao he wants to fuck all night right in front of his unwitting mother.
And who taught him that? Everything, in the end, boils down to being Hao’s fault.
Yujin laughs in that hiccupy windshield-wiper way of his, waiting for Hao to come up with something distracting to say before Mrs. Han thinks to ask for a translation.
“Um, well, the stew looks delicious, ma’am. I hope Yujin is nice enough to share some.”
“Please, you can call me eomma. I know you boys are all practically brothers, so you might as well be another son to me.”
Yujin, who has no tact, giggles hysterically again.
They chat for a few minutes longer until Ms. Han’s phone dings and she shakes her head in exasperation, saying I should get back, your brother is home all alone, kissing Yujin on the cheek while he squirms and pushes her away, and excusing herself out the door before Hao can give her a polite goodbye hug.
“She really likes you,” Yujin says after locking the door again.
Vertigo smacks Hao upside the head and the whole room rocks back and forth.
He is not the responsible adult Yujin’s parents trust him to be.
He is not the smart-decision-making second-in-command Hanbin needs him to be.
He’s not even the boyfriend Yujin so sweetly and heart-throbbingly wants him to be, although part of him gets softer and softer to the idea every day.
He might be a hedonist or something, though.
“I like you too.” Yujin’s hand slips into Hao’s and plays tamely with his fingers. “I really like you.”
He truly lets Yujin get away with so, so much.