Work Text:
A final string of compulsive taps to his keyboard, triple-checking the project is saved, and Jihoon breaks his hours-long stint of asceticism to finally reach for the can of coke taunting him in his periphery.
He’d been fucking around with the drum equalisers for this track for an eternity, never quite reaching a point of satisfaction with the mix’s state; a prolonged experiment to decide whether harkening back to the tone of Light a Flame for one of Joshua’s songs would be the right direction, as of yet still uncertain. Of course, this sisyphean spiral would be a little less so if he actually had all of Joshua’s vocals to work with, instead of the current frankenstein of exploratory chorus samples laid over Jihoon’s rough demo to have some semblance of cohesive melody and pitch to work with.
Apparently, scheduled recording sessions for a rapidly looming mini album debut aren’t the highest on the priority list for some people.
The last dregs of sugar in the can drain away too fast for comfort, taking with it a lot of his prior haze of frustrated concentration. He spins his chair around just enough to be able to dispose of the crushed can with one easy throw, and on the turn back pointedly ignores the well-dressed figure that has been hovering in the doorway for a few minutes, now; the faint sound of the passcode and door clicking shut had blended in nicely with the sound clips filling the studio.
Now, the clicking around on the project becomes performative, adding in a surplus bass guitar sample that will not outlast the evening, just for the sake of it. The bulk of his attention is on the tensing hairs on the back of his neck, knowing without really knowing that careful feet are padding closer.
He cranks the reverb high on the sample, percentage selected blindly.
The mix for this part of the hook clashes dreadfully on the next playthrough.
One arm abruptly snakes itself around Jihoon’s shoulders. The chair creaks as Joshua leans into its side, pulling Jihoon into an only somewhat stiff side hug.
“Jihoon-ah, hyung is sorry. The kids just wouldn’t let me go.” To his credit, Joshua had cracked his KakaoTalk drought to specifically send a direct message of apology to that effect, complete with an appropriate amount of ㅠㅠs. Jihoon had finally seen it when he’d thought to double check his phone out of lightly irritated suspicion, enough time passing for him to wonder whether he’d mixed up his diary with a completely different day instead.
And he gets it—it’d be a tall ask for any of them to brush off the maknaes even when they aren’t seeking out serious advice or support from their hyungs. It just would have been a little helpful to know ahead of time, so he could actually successfully switch gears to one of the countless other non-Joshua, in-progress projects in his pocket instead. The whole evening had just become a waste of time, no appreciable developments saved to any file he had half-heartedly clicked to.
Leaving the message read but otherwise ignored was just an uncharacteristically petty way of assuaging his little flare of disappointment, as was doing the same to the obliquely probing questions waiting in their chat come morning.
“I know—it’s done now.” Jihoon shrugs into the weight of Joshua’s arm. “We can make up for the delay now, seeing as you’re here.”
“Ah, on that.” When Joshua tries to swing Jihoon’s chair around, he only tenses his feet against the floor for a few moments before relenting. Joshua’s face looks appropriately rueful.
“You set the bar too high with your guide track, so trying to match your pitch felt—intimidating. How about you give me a chance to warm up first?”
It’s mostly bullshit; Jihoon had spent some time nailing down what would be a very comfortable place in Joshua’s lower register, one that he has easily tapped into for songs, before. But Joshua’s eyes are gleaming down at him in a very familiar way, undeterred by Jihoon’s unimpressed face. It’s only punctuated by how he begins to kneel down, demonstratively.
“Really, it won't hurt—and it’s been a while for you, no?” Tacit knowledge of Joshua’s recent jaunts overseas and Jihoon’s recent efforts to pad out his track backlog hangs between them.
Jihoon eyes his place on the floor warily, fighting off the bemused smile threatening to creep up. “If you’re going to stay there, get a cushion from—”
“I don’t think I’ll be here that long,” Joshua interrupts him with a snort.
The sting is grounded in truth; it has been a while.
Although Jihoon keeps his body stiff, he doesn’t resist the way Joshua tugs him closer to the edge of his seat for improved accessibility, hands running up from his calves to massage clothed thighs. His slow arousal is just starting to make itself known not too far away from where Joshua’s fingers are kneading at him encouragingly, and he finally abandons all pretense of trying to stay above it all in favour of shoving his hand into his pants—pulling his half-hard dick out and embracing the light sting of his waistbands with the motion, the resistance from his boxers and pants both.
It says it all that Joshua doesn’t bother with shuffling them both back around to even pretend at trying to stay hidden under Jihoon’s desk, instead leaning in as Jihoon spreads his legs as best he can in welcome. The very memorable discovery that Jihoon keeps his studio chair at the right height for Joshua to comfortably cockwarm him is something that neither of them have forgotten, but Joshua was right—they won’t be in this position for long at all.
Joshua nestles his face between Jihoon’s thighs without hesitation, glancing up coyly as he drags his tongue up Jihoon’s dick from its base up to the tip, letting out a hum of pleasure at the tang that must have naturally collected from a day that had comprised of a gym workout and studio work and precious little else.
For his part, Jihoon grips tightly onto his seat’s arm rests and breathes, determined not to embarrass himself as Joshua’s wet mouth closes over him, head bobbing once, twice before sinking down to the base. A quick under-the-desk wank to unfog his mind is a pale shadow of sensation compared to the very hot and very real feeling of Joshua’s throat working around the head of his dick—the lingering dregs of his gag reflex showing itself in brief, involuntary spasms before they’re overcome. Even that is enough for his muscles to squeeze almost too perfectly around him in a series of welcoming flutters.
Jihoon hisses wordlessly as his dick throbs in response, only bucking up into Joshua’s mouth once before he manages to restrain himself. It’s enough to elicit another flex of muscle from an aborted swallow and the first glimmers of reflexive tears in Joshua’s eyes as he stares up at him, and with a hasty curse Jihoon tears his gaze away to stare at the ceiling.
He breathes in, and out, and manages to run his mind through the unfinished song’s melody all the way to the last chorus before he feels himself start to break.
Jihoon’s efforts had earned him a hummed laugh from Joshua, taking pity and pulling back just enough to tongue teasingly at his slit. One hand shifts to stroking him languidly as the other braces against his leg, leaving Joshua well placed to react when Jihoon finally chokes out a warning.
The crest of pleasure almost catches him by surprise, small and hasty, and it shows in the modest spurt of come that spills over Joshua’s lips and tongue. The next lands over his nose when he pulls off completely, hand tightening almost painfully as he wrings Jihoon’s dick dry—dribbles of translucent white spilling down over his knuckles.
Jihoon allows his body to bask in its shallow soup of endorphins for a few seconds, eyes locked on the sight of the pearlescent accessories temporarily adorning Joshua’s face, the satisfaction glowing in his cheeks. Once the moment grows taut, though, he’s quick to grope around his desk for some tissues to gently scrub at Joshua’s face, tossing a few more at Joshua’s still-loosely-clenched hand.
“Clean up before you do an actual warm-up, please?” He mutters, feeling a blush worm its way from his own cheeks to his ears.
In all honesty, there really hadn’t been a lot for Joshua to record in the first place, but it’s the principle of the matter. Jihoon generously estimates that he’ll even be able to spend a good ten minutes playing around with the updated vocals in the project before Joshua ropes him into a more intensive round two—citing his own deliberately neglected arousal throughout the recording process, or some such.
His hyung is a terrible influence when it comes to studio sex, after all.