Archive of Our Own

It was Seonghwa’s love for swimming that led him to an earth-shattering discovery.

Wooyoung’s dad was hot.

The concept of a dilf wasn’t a foreign one to him. He’d had friends who joked about it. He saw the expression used on social media, both as a term of sexual attraction and as one big joke. It was a thing that existed in the world around him, but one that had never made much of an impact on him.

Kim Hongjoong, though, made an impact.

It was his voice, first.

Seonghwa liked voices. Deep or smooth or tenored, it didn’t matter, as long as they had that certain something that compelled him to pay attention. He enjoyed ASMR. He loved music. It was a conscious decision to use earbuds when he watched porn.

That day, there was a frustrated edge to Hongjoong’s voice that Seonghwa’s consciousness helplessly grabbed tightly onto.

He hadn’t even known Wooyoung for very long at that point. They shared a class. They were paired up for a project. They clicked instantly. When Wooyoung said his family home had a large in-ground pool, Seonghwa was immediately snared.

And what a family home it was. Walking up the stone pathway up to the double front doors, Seonghwa understood why Wooyoung would constantly offer to pay for him to go out to lunch because, quote, “I’d look pathetic sitting there all by myself!”

Seonghwa would roll his eyes. Wooyoung was a bundle of energy and friendliness. He’d surely, easily, find someone to converse with whether Seonghwa went with him or not. But it was very clear that Wooyoung chose Seonghwa as his new best friend, and Seonghwa wasn’t about to complain. He liked Wooyoung a lot, especially because Wooyoung was inviting him to swim in his pool.

A code was punched into the keypad, and after a gentle click, Wooyoung pushed open the front door. It was absentminded, the way Seonghwa kicked off his shoes, craning his neck in a way fitting for taking in new surroundings. A closed room was to the left, before a staircase that led up to another landing. An open hallway created a pathway into another room and a living room was to the right. It was one of those living rooms that was so untouched Seonghwa highly doubted anyone even used it.

Then, he heard it. A voice, from another room, from the room he could only see part of at the end of the hallway. The cabinets he could see from where he stood led him to believe it was the kitchen.

Someone else was there, and they didn’t sound very happy.

Wooyoung, of course, noticed this too.

“Ah, dad must be on the phone,” Wooyoung said, his voice dropping low. He waltzed forward and turned around, holding a hand up. “Wait here. I’ll go snatch some towels and then we’ll sneak past?”

“Sure,” Seonghwa agreed. He played with the strap of his backpack as Wooyoung bounded up the stairs two at a time. The stairs were carpeted and hardly even made a noise. The floors of the college dorms could never.

“No, because the deadline is Friday, and I haven’t even heard from Yunho.”

Usually, Seonghwa wouldn’t take part in eavesdropping. But what else could he do, in this scenario? He was told to wait for towels and he certainly didn’t feel comfortable moseying around Wooyoung’s family home.

“That’s your responsibility,” the person – Wooyoung’s dad? - growled. Seonghwa’s immediate reaction was to straighten his shoulders. The authoritative tone had Seonghwa’s wide eyes staring at the entryway to the kitchen. “Stay until midnight if you need to. In fact, get a hold of Yunho, and tell his procrastinating ass to call me as soon as possible.”

It was curiosity that drove Seonghwa’s feet forward. A test to make sure everything was okay? An urge to put a face to Wooyoung’s dad, who, just by the sound of things, was very opposite of the happy-go-lucky guy Seonghwa had befriended? Come to think of it, Seonghwa hadn’t witnessed Wooyoung angry. There hadn’t been enough time; there hadn’t been a scenario worthy of it.

Something pulled at him, which was how he was able to move forward enough to peek around the edge of the wall.

A long bar and bar stools came into view, one of which was occupied by a man with a phone shoved against his ear and a frown marring his features. Seonghwa could only see the side profile of his face, with a sloped nose and prominent jawline. He was wearing clothes fit for an office, a button-down shirt over broad shoulders, a tie, a belt, and slacks, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.

“I am well aware your shift ends at six. This is a potential three-hundred-thousand-dollar deal that you’re dropping the ball on. I’m sure you can sacrifice some of your time,” the man said. The delivery was calmer, this time, but almost scarier with a clear underlying threat. The arm not occupied with a phone moved up to his neck. There was a wristwatch on the wrist that tugged at his tie in jerky but precise motions, loosening the fabric. Seonghwa found himself drawn to the smallest new area of skin it revealed. “Thank you. Don’t forget to call Yunho.”

It was sudden, the way the man ended the phone call and stood from the stool. The movement shocked Seonghwa out of his trance on that slither of skin, and his gaze shot back up to the man’s face, only to see he’d been spotted. Dark brown eyes were staring straight through those glasses and into his own, a question lining the edge of his lips, and Seonghwa had never felt so much like a deer caught in headlights

He nearly jumped at the hand suddenly brushing his arm.

“Oh, good, you’re off the phone,” Wooyoung said, standing next to Seonghwa with the promised towels folded up in his arms, completely unaware of any tension in the room. “Dad, this is Seonghwa. Seonghwa, Dad. We’re going to use the pool for awhile, kay?”

Wooyoung wasn’t waiting for an actual response, dragging Seonghwa through the kitchen and toward a sliding glass door at the back. Seonghwa felt rushed and, honestly, it felt a little rude, so he made sure to look over his shoulder and say, “Uh, nice to meet you!” and maybe get one more glance at that handsome face and those broad shoulders before Wooyoung pulled him outside.

“… was that really your dad?” Seonghwa asked, later, after they’d tired themselves out by running laps around the pool and fighting each other with pool noodles. They were lying on floats, the sun warming their skin and steadily drying up the moisture still clinging to every surface.

“Yeah. Why?” Wooyoung asked. Seonghwa squinted his eyes open, observing a cloud roaming overhead.

“He’s hot,” Seonghwa casually acknowledged. He heard Wooyoung scoff and flinched when a rush of water was suddenly splashed his way. After lying in the sun for a while, the water felt cold.

“Ew. Never say that again,” Wooyoung drawled. Seonghwa could hear squeaking from Wooyoung adjusting on his float. “He’s a workaholic and an insomniac and a pain in my ass.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but notice the words were laced with nothing but fondness, despite what was said.

“Then how’d he pull your mom?” Seonghwa asked with a smirk, turning Wooyoung’s way. The other was lying sideways on his float and already looking at Seonghwa.

“Alcohol and the cover of the night,” Wooyoung claimed. The straight-forwardness made Seonghwa laugh. “They didn’t even last two years, though. She lives on the other side of the city. Has a new family and everything. My half-sister is nine and still pretty adorable, though I can smell the drama coming her way. You got any siblings?”

The conversation continued from there. When his skin was fried enough, Seonghwa rolled himself out of the float and back into the coolness of the water, wishing he could experience days like this every day. He vowed that, once he had a stable income and bought a house of his own, it would come with a large pool just like this.

… maybe a small pool. Whatever he could afford.

He didn’t bother to swim over to the stairs, instead, hefting himself out of the water using the concrete edge of the pool. Water rushed off of him, splashing onto the warmed concrete as he stood. A quick glance behind him proved Wooyoung was tugging the floats over to the stairs and Seonghwa looked around for where Wooyoung had set the towels down. Two loungers were in the shade over by the sliding glass door they’d come out of. It was where Seonghwa had deposited his backpack and his clothes, and sure enough, fluffy white towels were hanging over the backs of the loungers. Seonghwa ran a hand through his wet hair, slicking back the locks (they were just starting to get a little long – Seonghwa wanted to grow his hair out for a change). The warmth of the concrete seeped through the bottoms of his feet until they found shade.

It was as he was reaching for a towel that movement caught his eye. He looked up at the sliding glass door just in time to see Wooyoung’s dad walking away from it, going further into the house.

Seonghwa wished the older man had joined them. Maybe he’d get a look at what was underneath those fitted office clothes.

Seonghwa huffed at the thought, willing away any inappropriate thoughts about Wooyoung’s dad, of all people, and dried himself off with the towel. He appreciated the softness on his skin, the smell of fresh laundry when he held it up to his nose. At the time, he’d hoped Wooyoung would be inviting him over to his family home more often.

His hopes were answered, as they ended up at the Kim residence more often than their own dorms when they weren’t swamped with schoolwork. The second, third, and even fourth time they visited, Wooyoung’s dad was nowhere to be found. It was a little secret Seonghwa kept to himself, the way his eyes would roam the place in hopes of getting another glance at the intriguing man with the nice voice. There was no harm in looking, after all.

The fifth time they visited, autumn had slammed the area with full force, bringing a chill to the air and color to the leaves. Seonghwa pouted at the sight of the covered pool. Even without swimming, though, Seonghwa was having fun utterly demolishing Wooyoung in racing games.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Wooyoung screeched. He’d almost won, this time, but Seonghwa’s car came spinning through the air in front of him right at the finish line. Seonghwa’s laughter was loud and unabashed, twinkling eyes watching Wooyoung let the controller fall to the hard wood beneath them. He clutched his head and had a meltdown from where he sat to the right of Seonghwa on the floor, adding to Seonghwa’s amusement.

“Get wrecked,” Seonghwa huffed, yanking himself sideways as Wooyoung’s hands suddenly bared down on him with halfhearted slaps.

“Again,” Wooyoung demanded, snatching up his controller. He stared at the screen as if it owed him a blood sacrifice and Seonghwa bit down another quip. They were both startled by a sudden knock on the door. “Come in.”

At the invitation, the door opened, and Seonghwa was greeted with the all-too-pleasant sight of Wooyoung’s dad peeking around the door. He was a little different, this time. Softer. The button-down and slacks were gone, replaced with a woolly sweater and light-washed jeans, and there were no signs of stress marring his features. The look was nice, but Seonghwa kind of missed the tie. Wooyoung’s dad’s dark brown eyes looked lighter in the sunlight that spilled from Wooyoung’s windows, uncovered by glasses this time, and they took him in before quickly darting over to Wooyoung. He held up what looked like grocery bags in his hands. The bags rustled with the movement.

“I got ingredients for hot chocolate,” Wooyoung’s dad said. A small, knowing smile quirked up the corner of his lips, squinted the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and all it did for Seonghwa was confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating.

Wooyoung’s dad was really hot.

“No way, really?!” Wooyoung exclaimed, practically vibrating with a burst of happiness that completely contradicted the mood he’d just been in. Seonghwa enjoyed hot chocolate, but he’d definitely never reached Wooyoung levels of excited for it. “Wait, we have enough for Hwa, right? He can join us?”

It was the humble way Seonghwa was raised that brought a protest flying up to his throat.

“Oh, no, that’s okay…” Seonghwa objected. He didn’t want to be a bother. Wooyoung’s dad had obviously shopped for the two of them, not knowing they’d have company. And in the time Seonghwa had known Wooyoung, he’d learned a little more about his dad. He worked for a tech firm and, while Wooyoung couldn’t think of his exact title, was pretty high up the ladder. That meant a lot of hours, though, which leaned into the ‘workaholic’ label Wooyoung had given him. Even when his dad was home, a lot of time was spent on the phone or on his laptop. If his dad actually had free time and wanted to spend it with Wooyoung, Seonghwa was certainly not going to be in the way.

“Do you not like hot chocolate?” Wooyoung asked.

“I like it, but-”

“Then you’ll love ours!” Wooyoung barreled on. “We make it from scratch. It’s not that fake powder stuff.”

Wooyoung cutely scrunched his nose as if the mere thought of hot chocolate mix was repulsive. Seonghwa had his doubts about how much different varieties of hot chocolate could be, but he’d never had anything but those little powder packs, so he guessed he couldn’t say anything.

“I bought plenty. You’re free to join us,” Wooyoung’s dad said, drawing Seonghwa’s attention back to him. He was giving Seonghwa a smile, now. Not the same one he’d given Wooyoung earlier – one that was cognizant of the inevitable positive reaction he’d receive from someone he knew well, but one that was encouraging. Inviting. It reminded him of the smile Wooyoung had given him when they first met. Wooyoung’s smile didn’t make his stomach swoop around like this, though. “As much as Wooyoung talks about you, I feel like I know you already.”

That made alarm bells ring in Seonghwa’s mind. But there was no way Wooyoung would casually tell his dad that his friend thought he was hot, right?

“Did you get the right kind of marshmallows?” Wooyoung asked, saving Seonghwa from a response. The smile on Wooyoung’s dad’s face faded into faux annoyance.

“You’re going to get whatever I have in this bag,” Wooyoung’s dad replied. He held out his arm and started rifling through the bag, digging around for the marshmallows. As he pulled them out, a can of whipped cream fell. There was a quiet curse, and then the can was clanging loudly against the floor and rolling toward the television stand. After the initial wince at the sudden, booming sound, Seonghwa moved, crawling on his knees to reach the rolling can. The metal was still cool to the touch. He sat back on his haunches and looked up at the same time he held the whipped cream out to Wooyoung’s dad.

Oh.

Seonghwa tried very hard to keep his expression neutral. It was quite a feat when he registered that he’d just crawled closer to Wooyoung’s dad, his face level with the belt looping around his waist in those jeans, with Wooyoung’s dad looking down at him like-

No, he was not going to go there. Absolutely not. He was just picking up the whipped cream he’d dropped. This was an entirely innocent position. His lustful thoughts could go straight to Hell – oh, God, this was not the kind of first impression he wanted to make on his best friend’s dad! Someone needed to take the can of whipped cream away from him immediately, so he could shuffle back into his much safer position-

But Wooyoung’s dad wasn’t making a move for the can of whipped cream.

He was staring at him. Their eyes were meeting for too long. Those swoops in Seonghwa’s stomach were raging into violent tornadoes.

“You’re safe. You got the right kind,” Wooyoung spoke. It shook whatever trance they were in, and Wooyoung’s dad finally dropped the marshmallows back in the bag before taking hold of the whipped cream can.

“Thanks,” Wooyoung’s dad said, with the slightest clearing of his throat. Seonghwa quietly slipped back into his cross-legged position, feeling oddly flushed and mildly confused. Wooyoung stood, though, making a show of bending his body to crack his back, a complaint about being too old on his lips. His dad scoffed at that, and they bickered as Seonghwa also stood, feeling a little out of place. He shuffled after them, out of Wooyoung’s room and into the hallway.

“Hey, I’m going to run to the restroom real quick. I’ll be right down!” Wooyoung announced at the top of the stairs. Panic rose swiftly through Seonghwa’s veins, but Wooyoung was already sprinting down the hallway toward the bathroom, unaware of Seonghwa’s inner turmoil at being left alone with his dad. The silence was deafening as they descended the first few steps. Or, it was probably just that way to Seonghwa, who was still on edge after certain dangerous thoughts about being on his knees in front of Wooyoung’s dad and who was very aware that they were alone together for the first time.

He needed to get a grip. There was no need to salivate over this man, hot or not.

“It’s a tradition. If you’re wondering,” Wooyoung’s dad spoke up. He lifted the bags to gesture at them. “Making hot chocolate when the weather gets cold. We started it when Wooyoung was a kid and it’s stuck ever since.”

Seonghwa cataloged the information in his own personal ‘Wooyoung knowledge’.

“I’ve never had hot chocolate from scratch,” Seonghwa replied. He stared at the back of the other man’s head, noticing stray lines of gray standing out in the auburn locks, especially around his ears. He was suddenly curious about how old he was, though he couldn’t just outright ask. Maybe Wooyoung would tell him.

“If you like it, we’ll show you how to make it,” Wooyoung’s dad offered. He looked back at Seonghwa over his shoulder, clearly comfortable navigating his own house without looking forward, and raised a brow. “If you’re any good in the kitchen. You live in the dorms, right? Do you live on fast food like Wooyoung does?”

Seonghwa felt the need to defend himself.

“I’m a good cook. I like to cook. But opportunities to cook don’t come often right now, no,” Seonghwa replied sheepishly. All the dorms allowed were microwaves.

Wooyoung’s dad set the bags on the bar and started rifling through them, pulling things out. Seonghwa wanted to help, but wasn’t sure what to do.

“You like to cook? Well then, feel free to come over and make something actually nutritious for my disaster child any day,” Wooyoung’s dad huffed. Seonghwa laughed. The tension he’d felt from being alone with the other man melted away. Despite the scary first impression, Wooyoung’s dad had been nothing but welcoming toward him.

“Disaster child?” Wooyoung’s voice came from somewhere they couldn’t see. It took a moment for him to appear in the kitchen archway. “Do I have some delinquent brother or sister hidden away somewhere?”

“Nope, just you. I don’t think I could handle another one,” his dad quipped.

“See how unloved I am?” Wooyoung spoke melodramatically, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa and doing a great job at pretending to faint against him.

“As I’m making you hot chocolate,” his dad huffs.

“I can make it! I’ll just share it with Seonghwa and not give you any.”

“Are you going to burn the pot again-”

“I haven’t done that in years! You’re just trying to make me look bad in front of him!” Wooyoung accused.

“You don’t come with a warning label, so I’m doing him a favor,” Wooyoung’s dad said gravely. He gestured to the cabinets. “Now get what we need.”

Wooyoung grumbled a few choice words under his breath and let go of Seonghwa to rifle through the cabinets. Seonghwa met Wooyoung’s dad’s gaze over where Wooyoung was bent down, and his entire body was practically exuding “I’m so sorry about him.” with a twinkle in his eyes.

Seonghwa had to bite down hard on his inner lip to keep his laughter in. He was quickly warming up to their witty and playful dynamic.

Making hot chocolate from scratch was a science, Seonghwa learned. He watched and listened as the two showed him step-by-step, fascinated by the little details. Yes, even though it’s hot chocolate, you do add salt. Yes, even though it’s a sweet drink, you have to use unsweetened and semi-sweet chocolate. If you don’t continually whisk, the chocolate will burn. Using brown sugar instead of regular sugar enhances the flavor and gives it sweet notes of caramel and molasses. Simmer, don’t boil.

The resulting concoction was thick and sweet and rich, even before whipped cream and marshmallows were added.

“This kind of feels illegal. Like I’m going to gain five pounds after drinking this one cup,” Seonghwa sighed, happily holding the mug close under his chin. The warmth of the mug radiated into the skin of his hands. His eyes were closed, blissfully enjoying the chocolatey, sugary taste lining his tongue.

He had been very wrong.

There were definitely stark differences in hot chocolates.

“Told you,” Wooyoung responded. Seonghwa could hear him take another happy slurp. When he opened his eyes to follow suit, they landed on Wooyoung’s dad, standing across from him over the counter. Their eyes met, for a split second, before Wooyoung’s dad looked away, down at his own cup. “Don’t think I forgot about demolishing you in a race, by the way. After this hot chocolate, we’re doing a rematch.”

Seonghwa tore his eyes away from Wooyoung’s dad to smirk at Wooyoung.

“Sure.”

It was after their cups were empty that Seonghwa attempted to volunteer to wash the dishes, but Wooyoung’s dad waved him off, saying he was a guest and he needed to go beat Wooyoung anyway. That got a dramatic protest from his son, and Seonghwa backed down.

He did end up beating Wooyoung, to the point they switched games.

“I’m staying the night here, so I’ll see you Monday morning,” Wooyoung explained as they descended the stairs. Seonghwa was slipping his coat on when Wooyoung’s dad appeared at the bottom of the stairs, once again holding a phone to his ear.

“It’s your mom,” Wooyoung’s dad said, gesturing to the phone.

“Oh, I’ll talk to her!” Wooyoung agreed. He smiled at Seonghwa when they reached the bottom of the steps. “Send me a text when you reach the dorms?”

“I will,” Seonghwa agreed. That was another thing Seonghwa really liked about Wooyoung. He was a ‘send a text when you get home, I’ll wait until I see you go inside when I drop you off’ kind of person. Caring.

Wooyoung’s dad handed Wooyoung the phone and Wooyoung started chatting, heading toward the kitchen. For a moment, Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s dad watched him walk away, and then turned toward each other.

“I’ll walk you out?” Wooyoung’s dad offered. Seonghwa chuckled. It was silly. The door was literally right there, but if Wooyoung was caring, that only meant he was raised to be that way, by the person standing in front of Seonghwa. The intimidating first impression he had of him seemed like a figment of his imagination now.

“Thanks again for the hot chocolate,” Seonghwa said, stopping in the entryway to slip on his shoes. When the second sole slipped in, he placed his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn it, looking back at Wooyoung’s dad. He’d noticed when they were in the kitchen together, but Wooyoung’s dad was shorter than him. It seemed like that was yet another thing Wooyoung got from him. “It would be nice if I wasn’t always calling you ‘Wooyoung’s dad’.”

The eyes in front of him widened.

“Shit, sorry,” Wooyoung’s dad said with a laugh, a hand reaching up to play with the nape of his neck. “See, Wooyoung brings you up so much that I forgot to properly introduce myself. Hongjoong.”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa repeated, testing out the name. He watched Hongjoong’s eyes flicker down to the purse of his lips as he said it and suddenly felt a little too warm in his coat. He finally turned the doorknob, stepping out onto the porch. It wasn’t dark, yet, but dusk was settling in. “Thank you for letting me in your home.”

“You’re welcome here any time,” Hongjoong said, leaning against the door-frame. It was a common nicety, but Seonghwa felt like he really meant it. “But, uh… do I have to give you the talk?”

Seonghwa froze. His eyebrows furrowed.

“The... talk?” Seonghwa repeated, wary. Hongjoong nodded, crossing his arms. Seonghwa fought with himself. He could continue to look at Hongjoong’s face. He didn’t need to drop his gaze and have it wander over his body-

“The whole ‘I’ll kill you if you hurt my son’ talk?” Hongjoong continued, with one raised eyebrow. Seonghwa allowed a moment for the statement to settle before shaking his head.

“Oh! No!” Seonghwa adamantly denied. He held his hands up, shaking them as well. It was very important to him that he shut down any ghost of a thought that he was interested in Wooyoung in that way. “We’re not like that. We’re just friends.”

Any panic that had risen up to Seonghwa’s throat fizzed out into nothingness at the grin Hongjoong was giving him. It was playful, not accusatory. It was warm, almost… shrewd? A whole new type of panic started bleeding through Seonghwa’s veins. The way Hongjoong was looking at him… had Wooyoung actually told him Seonghwa said he was hot? Maybe Seonghwa did need the ‘I’ll kill you if you hurt my son’ talk, because Seonghwa felt like he really would hurt Wooyoung if he had dared-

“Saves me a spiel,” Hongjoong chuckled, cutting through Seonghwa’s thoughts. Hongjoong looked past Seonghwa, then, taking in the time of day. “Do you want a ride back to the dorms?”

Oh. That would be nice, sitting in the passenger seat and watching Hongjoong drive him around, maybe with an arm over the headrest or a hand on his thigh-

“No, that’s fine,” Seonghwa declined, slipping his hands in his coat pockets and shrugging his shoulders up. “The light chill is pretty nice.”

Hongjoong nodded.

“Stay warm,” he bid good-bye.

“Night,” Seonghwa replied, flashing him a smile before turning around and descending the porch steps. He was tempted to look back, but he didn’t.

---

Wooyoung’s dorm room suddenly shook with the violent sound of a gurgling Cthulhu. Or, at least, that’s what Seonghwa likened the sound to.

“Have you eaten?” Seonghwa asked dubiously. He’d been a guest in Wooyoung’s dorm room for the last two hours. They’d spent very little of that time talking and a vast majority of that time with their noses shoved in textbooks. They were different textbooks – they both had exams coming up in classes that were not their shared one – but the comradery was appreciated none-the-less.

“Why does math exist?” Wooyoung whined in response, lowering his head with a thump on top of the open textbook. Seonghwa glanced over at the notebook Wooyoung had been making notes in, seeing that the formulas were quickly becoming little stick figures battling each other with swords. He huffed a laugh and closed his own textbook.

“I think we need a break,” Seonghwa declared. Wooyoung turned his head, his eye barely visible underneath the veil of his hair and forehead still smushed against the pages of the book.

“My test is tomorrow at one. I have less than twenty-four hours to memorize all this. I don’t have time for breaks,” Wooyoung groused. Seonghwa did feel for him. At least his own test was the day after tomorrow.

“Stick figures aren’t helping you memorize anything,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the notebook. “You need a break. And food. You’ll be able to focus better afterwards. I’ll even help quiz you.”

Wooyoung shoved his nose back into the pages and groaned. Seonghwa waited, patiently, until Wooyoung finally lifted his head and snatched his phone.

“I’ll order pizza,” Wooyoung said, fingers flying in a familiar pattern. Seonghwa leaned over and wrapped his hand around Wooyoung’s hand to stop him.

“Feel free to come over and make something actually nutritious for my disaster child any day.” That’s what Hongjoong had said. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“I don’t think pizza is the best choice. Besides, if you just order delivery, we’re still going to be trapped in here and you’re going to continue trying to study,” Seonghwa accused. Wooyoung’s face scrunched up into a pout.

“What do you want to do, then?” Wooyoung asked. Feeling like he’d won, Seonghwa released his grip on Wooyoung’s phone.

“The day you and your dad made the hot chocolate… your dad said I could come over and cook for you if I ever wanted to,” Seonghwa began. Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“You can cook?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t burn my house down?”

“Of course I won’t burn your house down-”

“What would you make?”

“Mm… bibimbop would be easy, if we stop at the store-”

“Can you load it with hanwoo!?”

“Sure-”

“No cucumbers. Or bell peppers.”

“Alright, but we have to substitute those for other vegetables so it’s actually a balanced meal-”

Seonghwa stopped talking when his cheeks were suddenly smushed together by Wooyoung’s hands. Wooyoung leaned close, his eyes intense.

“Seonghwa. I love you,” Wooyoung declared. Seonghwa grinned within Wooyoung’s hold.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes?” Seonghwa asked, voice slightly muffled by his pressed-in cheeks.

It was definitely a yes. Within the next twenty minutes, they were in a grocery store, grabbing ingredients. Wooyoung tried very hard to spend as little time near the vegetables as he could, but Seonghwa wouldn’t let him.

“Your dad said to feed you something nutritious,” Seonghwa emphasized.

“Yeah, well, my dad hates vegetables more than I do, so he can’t say anything,” Wooyoung revealed. The thought of Hongjoong refusing to eat his vegetables was very amusing. Seonghwa wondered if Wooyoung was exaggerating.

When they reached Wooyoung’s family home, Seonghwa was a little disappointed that the house was empty. Still, he rummaged around the kitchen, trying to make note of where he pulled things out of so he could put them back in their rightful places. Wooyoung helped him slice the vegetables, and there were a few carrots thrown at each other, but the majority of them ended up in the pot. The heat from the stove prompted Seonghwa to tie his hair up in a small ponytail. His hair wasn’t quite long enough, though, leaving loose strands framing his face. It was better than nothing, he supposed.

When they finally sat down to eat, Seonghwa was bombarded with praises. He burst out laughing when Wooyoung claimed he could write a song about how good Seonghwa’s cooking was, and shook his head, claiming it was only because Wooyoung was starving and needing comfort. Wooyoung wouldn’t let up, though, so Seonghwa just let him gush as he wiggled on the bar-stool, pleased with how happy Wooyoung was.

It was after they’d done most of the dishes and put things away that Seonghwa asked Wooyoung where the Tupperware was. He separated the remaining bibimbop into two containers and snapped them shut.

“Do you have post-it notes and a pen?” Seonghwa asked.

“Why?”

“Because this one is yours,” Seonghwa said, pressing one of the containers into Wooyoung’s hold. Wooyoung snatched it gratefully. “And this one is for your dad. I want to leave a post-it note so he knows.”

“I can just text him and let him know. But, wait, why are you giving it to him? I will very happily eat it all,” Wooyoung complained.

“He’s the one who gave me the idea and he’s the one who owns the house. It’s only fair,” Seonghwa protested. “And I feel like I need to label it. I’m not sure I trust you.”

Wooyoung teased that he was offended, but got the post-it note and pen anyway. Seonghwa wrote his name in large letters, including a ‘NOT Wooyoung’s’ underneath it, to which Wooyoung huffed.

“In all honesty, he’ll love it. It’ll be good for him, too. He doesn’t have the best diet,” Wooyoung confessed.

“Oh? He said the same thing about you,” Seonghwa teased.

“It’s different! I may rely on fast food and cafeteria food a lot, but at least I eat. He just shoves a protein bar down his throat and lives off energy drinks for the rest of the day,” Wooyoung said. Again, Seonghwa wondered if he was exaggerating about his dad – they clearly had a relationship where they would make fun of each other a lot – but when Seonghwa opened the refrigerator door, he realized that, no, Wooyoung was not exaggerating.

Boxes of energy drinks filled at least two shelves.

Hongjoong was insane.

He left the container of food on top of one of the boxes of energy drinks and shut the fridge.Bundling up, (the weather was especially cool today, and the sun had already gone down) they prepared to head back to the dorms and start fresh on their study session.

It startled Seonghwa when, as soon as he opened the front door, Hongjoong was standing there, hand raised as if he’d been about to punch the code in. He was in his work clothes again, much like he’d been wearing the first time Seonghwa laid eyes on him, only a suit jacket now draped his shoulders to ward off the cold. The front porch light cast him in a yellow glow, leaving a white line of glare across the lenses of his glasses. There was a small ledge separating the porch from the floor of the house, so Hongjoong had to crane his head up higher than he normally would to meet Seonghwa’s gaze.

“Oh,” Seonghwa managed, stopping short. Hongjoong’s eyes darted around his face, and Seonghwa realized his hair was still in the makeshift tiny ponytail. He was a little embarrassed by the fact, hoping it didn’t look too bad. Had he sweat while in the kitchen? Did he smell like meat? He certainly hoped not. Plagued by those thoughts, he could only think to say, “Welcome home.”

Hongjoong’s gaze settled straight on his at that, and Seonghwa felt his heart do a flip. Slowly, the arm suspended in the air lowered, and Hongjoong parted his lips-

“Hey. We were just on our way out,” Wooyoung stated. Seonghwa nearly jumped. It was like, for a second, he’d forgotten Wooyoung was even there, which was ridiculous. He’d specifically come over to cook for Wooyoung. Hongjoong seemed to realize the situation and he stepped to the side to allow them to cross the threshold. “Seonghwa made bibimbop. Oh my God, it’s so good. He left you some in the fridge, so you better eat it.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa wasn’t sure if the thank you was a response to ‘welcome home’ or a response to being gifted food. “I’m… really hungry, actually, so thank you.”

Seonghwa wondered if he was tired. He seemed a little caught off-guard.

“I hope you like it,” Seonghwa said. Hongjoong stepped up into the house and turned around. Their heights were almost at the same level this way. Hongjoong had sent him off just like this the other day, but Seonghwa hadn’t noticed it then. “And I hope you don’t mind… I just left some of the things I bought at the store here, because Wooyoung wants me to cook for him again sometime.”

A smile finally made its way to Hongjoong’s lips.

“No problem at all. I said, you’re welcome here any time,” Hongjoong responded. He glanced at Wooyoung. “You were grateful, I hope?”

“I said thank you like a hundred times! I told him I’d write a song about how good his cooking was!” Wooyoung exclaimed. A melody rang in the air at the last word, and Hongjoong looked down and took the phone out of his pocket.

“Be safe walking back,” Hongjoong said.

“Thanks,” Seonghwa replied sincerely, as Wooyoung gave a quiet “yeah, yeah”. He watched Hongjoong answer the call and put the phone to his ear before turning around and walking down the stone walkway that had become familiar by now. The urge to look back still clung to him. He gave in to it this time, throwing a glance over his shoulder as they reached the public sidewalk.

Hongjoong was still standing in the doorway, watching.

Seonghwa felt a little shiver run through his back, and he tugged his coat more tightly against himself in response.

---

“I GOT A HIGH B,” Wooyoung yelled. He held up his math test like Simba in the Lion King, kneeling down on one knee in front of the community fountain on campus. Seonghwa sat on the fountain’s ledge, amused but also self-conscious at the stares they were getting from passerbys.

“You deserve it,” Seonghwa commented, quietly hoping Wooyoung would get off the ground any second now. He didn’t. Instead, he decided to sit cross-legged on the concrete, stuffing the proof of his success in his backpack before looking up at Seonghwa with a certain determination that had Seonghwa stiffening.

“I do deserve it,” Wooyoung agreed. He latched onto Seonghwa’s pant leg, tugging. “And you know what I want as a reward? I want you to cook for me again! Pleeeease?!”

A startled laugh left Seonghwa’s mouth.

“I don’t know if my cooking is enough to be a reward, but I don’t mind cooking for you again,” Seonghwa replied.

“It is, though. My dad agrees,” Wooyoung said. That got Seonghwa’s attention. He leaned a little closer and waited for Wooyoung to elaborate. “He loved your bibimbop as much as I did. Actually, he said he wants to be home if you cook for me again, because he liked it so much.”

Seonghwa felt the heat rise to his cheeks. To be able to cook, to be able to bring happiness to his best friend, and to be in the presence of his best friend’s hot dad all at the same time? It felt more like a reward for him, but he wouldn’t say that.

Instead, he just agreed.

---

It was Saturday afternoon when Seonghwa and Wooyoung lugged groceries into the Kim household. Wooyoung had spent three full days complaining about having to wait for his dad to actually be off work to receive his hard-earned reward, but he had not perished, as Seonghwa pointed out with thinly veiled amusement, and for the first time since Seonghwa had met Hongjoong, the man was actively awaiting their arrival.

It was definitely not on purpose, the fact Seonghwa had worn a tighter pair of dark blue jeans and one of his nicer shirts. He had just been in a good mood that morning and wanted to dress up a bit.

“Let me mix the kimchi paste. Sorry I don’t have an apron,” Hongjoong commented. He placed a hand over the ingredients already laid out on the bar to stop Seonghwa from reaching them. Seonghwa wanted to be stubborn and smack his hand away. He also didn’t want to stain his shirt.

Even though it was Seonghwa cooking for them, Hongjoong had been insistent that he help. It was great, in the beginning, because Hongjoong knew exactly where everything was and things went faster with an extra pair of hands. However, Seonghwa was getting a little distracted. How could he not, when Hongjoong had to slide his glasses onto the bridge of his nose to read the recipe? How could he not, when Hongjoong was tugging up his sleeves and leaving his forearms bare? It only got worse when Wooyoung got bored, venturing into the living room to watch television instead of hanging out on a bar stool as they meandered about the kitchen. It was easier to keep himself in check knowing Wooyoung was behind them and could be watching every move.

Now, they were alone in the kitchen. Noodles were boiling in a pot on the stove and the range hood was busily sucking up the steam. All the vegetables had been chopped and were simmering in broth, while the cabbage soaked. Dak-kalguksu and geotjeori was what Wooyoung had settled on, and Seonghwa could have sworn some of the vegetables had mysteriously disappeared, because the amount in the broth seemed minuscule, but he had no incriminating evidence.

“Fine,” Seonghwa relented. Hongjoong could do the kimchi paste if he wanted to. “I should have thought to bring an apron myself. … then again, no, I’m glad I didn’t.”

Hongjoong busied himself with opening jars and packages. He paused when he saw a label for apricot preserves and held it up questioningly.

“In the paste?” Hongjoong checked.

“It’s good, I promise. We’ll add a little more than the recipe calls for because you two don’t handle spice well,” Seonghwa replied. Hongjoong hummed in response, working on the paste as Seonghwa stirred the noodles.

“Why are you glad you didn’t bring your apron?” Hongjoong asked belatedly.

“Ah, I actually only own one. My mom is the one who taught me to cook, and I only ever cooked with her, so when she bought an apron, she bought a set, and it’s… well, pink. With ruffles,” Seonghwa explained meekly. He actually loved that apron, even more so because it was a gift from his mom, but it would be embarrassing to wear in front of others.

When Hongjoong chuckled, it was light and warm, and void of any ridicule.

“Cute."

The hand stirring the noodles slowed. Seonghwa jerked his head to the side maybe a little too fast.

Cute?

Had Hongjoong just called him cute? Was the thought of him in a pink, ruffled apron cute? His gaze burned into the side of Hongjoong’s head. As if the other man could sense it, he glanced up. Their eyes met for milliseconds before Hongjoong quickly darted his eyes back to his task. If Seonghwa didn’t know any better, he’d say he looked just a little flushed.

“H- how much of this should I add? Because you said we should add more than what the recipe says,” Hongjoong quickly recovered, once again holding the jar of apricot preserves up.

Seonghwa took a deep breath and answered. He moved past the moment like it had never happened, but branded it in his mind.

Was he not… alone, in this?

Was the attraction mutual?

The question itched along his skin as they strained the noodles and added them to the broth. It tickled among his thoughts as they drained and rinsed the cabbage. It made his heart thump a little harder in his chest as Hongjoong mixed the cabbage and paste.

Seonghwa knew he should let it go. He wasn’t even sure Hongjoong had said it. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Even if he had said it, it didn’t necessarily mean Hongjoong thought Seonghwa was cute. Just the idea of a pink, ruffled apron was cute by itself. But the more Seonghwa spiraled, the more he couldn’t let it go.

It wasn’t just the comment he may or may not have heard.

It was other things. The way Hongjoong looked at him sometimes, or the way he’d already be looking at Seonghwa until Seonghwa looked at him, and then he’d put his attention elsewhere. There was… something there.

Or maybe there wasn’t, and Seonghwa was pathetic enough to conjure up ideals that fit a narrative he wanted.

He wanted to find out.

He wanted to push.

“Taste,” Seonghwa directed. Hongjoong was on the other side of the bar, getting ready to set the table. Seonghwa leaned his elbows on the smooth surface, his fingers holding on to a pair of chopsticks that were pinching a piece of geotjeori between them. The cabbage hovered in front of Hongjoong’s mouth as Seonghwa looked up at him expectantly. Hongjoong appeared taken aback by the gesture. If Seonghwa gave himself enough time to think about it, there were a ton of other, more socially acceptable ways to ask your best friend’s father to taste-test your food that didn’t involve leaning over a counter to personally feed it to him, but Seonghwa was too focused on Hongjoong’s reaction to ponder it.

Hongjoong swallowed before opening his mouth to take the offering. Seonghwa watched with a quiet fascination as those lips wrapped themselves around the food and dragged down the edge of the chopsticks.

“… it’s good,” Hongjoong confirmed. As he chewed, his eyes grew brighter and he perked up. “It’s really good. Kind of tangy. I like it.”

“More tangy than spicy. I told you apricot preserves were good,” Seonghwa grinned. There was still a little red sauce clinging to the chopsticks. Seonghwa stared at it.

He made a conscious decision to bring the chopsticks to his own mouth and run his tongue along that bit of sauce. His eyes didn’t leave Hongjoong.

He watched the way Hongjoong’s lips parted. Speechless. His gaze was unwavering, intense, on Seonghwa’s lips, on the chopsticks that were still hovering next to Seonghwa’s mouth.

Seonghwa let the taste of garlic, red pepper, and sesame – the taste of victory - melt on his tongue. No man who wasn’t interested would look at him like that. He allowed his lips to curl upwards, slowly, and simmered in the charged air between them for a few seconds too long.

He abruptly set the chopsticks down.

“You place the bowls, I’ll get the drinks?” Seonghwa asked, nonchalantly, as if the moment had never occurred.As if he hadn’t just licked the chopsticks Hongjoong had his mouth on.

Hongjoong’s shoulders straightened and his lips snapped shut.

“Yeah… sure,” Hongjoong agreed, his voice a tad strangled, his movements a little jittery as he scooped up the bowls he’d gotten out previously. Seonghwa watched him for a moment, trying not to smile too hard, willing his heart to calm down. He slid his gaze down to Hongjoong’s ass as the other man placed bowls on the table.

This was going to be fun, he decided.

Kind of like playing with fire.

“Wooyoung, what are you going to drink?” Seonghwa shouted.

“FINALLY!” Was Wooyoung’s very enthusiastic response.

---

The Kim residence became so familiar that Seonghwa started referring to it as his second home away from home. More often than not, visiting did not grant Seonghwa the pleasure of Hongjoong’s presence. When it did, however, Seonghwa would soak up the attention like a sponge, and if he purposefully moved in ways that brushed Hongjoong’s arms or spent a little extra time trying to catch his gaze, it was all in good fun.

It was all part of playing with fire. Harmless, really. He was a twenty-one-year-old in his prime who had an insignificant little crush on a forty-something-year-old business man who was downright sexy and incredibly kind and delightfully witty… and who was clearly attracted to him, but was too disciplined to do anything about it.

Sometimes, Seonghwa pouted about it.

Rationally, he knew his little crush would never see the light of day.

Recklessly, he wanted to see how Hongjoong would respond to being pushed against a wall for an all-intensive make-out session.

Seonghwa definitely pouted about it when San came into the picture.

They’d been in the same class the whole quarter, but had never talked to each other, until San’s pen dropped and rolled until it hit the side of Wooyoung’s foot. Or so Seonghwa heard. Over and over again. For days.

Wooyoung was absolutely smitten. Unlike Seonghwa, he was able to push San against a wall and make out with him with no repercussions. Seonghwa was happy for Wooyoung. Thrilled. But also a little jealous. And because Wooyoung started spending a lot of time with San, Seonghwa no longer saw the Kim residence as much as he wanted to.

He mourned the loss, truly. He tried to come up with excuses to visit without Wooyoung, but there was just no reason to. Life moved on with less Hongjoong and, just as it had been with Wooyoung waiting for Seonghwa to cook him his reward, Seonghwa did not perish.

He just pictured Hongjoong when he jerked off, is all.

---

“You’re not visiting family?” Wooyoung asked him, a week before winter break. He was looking at Seonghwa with sad eyes, guilty eyes, and Seonghwa had the urge to pat his head.

“Parents are busy. I’d mostly be by myself if I went home anyway,” Seonghwa explained. Not that he wouldn’t absolutely love to see his mom, but in her line of work, holidays were the busiest times of the year. It was better for Seonghwa to just stay in the dorms over the break. Wooyoung was upset by this, though, because he had arranged a little trip with San before he’d known Seonghwa was going to be left alone. It was perfectly fine, in Seonghwa’s eyes, but-

“Christmas, though! You shouldn’t spend Christmas alone!” Wooyoung exclaimed. Seonghwa rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I’ll give my parents a video call,” Seonghwa bargained.

“You’ll give me a video call!”

“You’ll be with San. Probably making out and stuff. Gross.”

“Yeah, but I’ll still make time for you.”

Seonghwa really did feel lucky that, out of anyone, Wooyoung had declared Seonghwa was the exclusive holder of the title ‘best friend’.

The first day of winter break, he bid Wooyoung and San a good-bye and settled on the bed in his dorm, determined to crack open a book that wasn’t a textbook. A book for fun. It felt like it’d been ages since he was able to do that.

Not even four hours had passed since Wooyoung and San had left when there was a knock on Seonghwa’s door. Their floor manager was there, looking apologetic, telling him that there had been an incident. Pipes had frozen under the dorm halls, and one had burst, so there was no running water in the building. Seonghwa had tested it by turning on the tap.

Nothing.

Without running water, they were going to need to shut down the dorm hall until further notice, leaving Seonghwa silently spiraling.

He could change his mind and go to his family home, but getting tickets so last minute was going to cost a small fortune, and he didn’t want to burden his family with the sudden change of plans.

He had enough money saved up to spend a couple nights at a hotel, but the floor manager couldn’t even give him an estimate of how long it would take to fix the problem. What if it took all winter break? He didn’t have enough money to spend two weeks at a hotel.

Those worries hung over his head as he texted Wooyoung to let him know the situation.

Wooyoung’s reply was instantaneous.

‘Stay at my family home! Duh!’

Seonghwa stared at the text. It hadn’t even crossed his mind-

‘I’ll text dad! He won’t mind at all. You can take my room. No one has used the guest room in forever and dad has definitely not been dusting in there. I promise my sheets are clean!’

Seonghwa’s fingers tapped frantically.

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to burden your dad.’

There was no immediate reply and Seonghwa sank down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It really was the best option. It wouldn’t cost him anything and he wouldn’t need to travel far. But-

His phone buzzed and Seonghwa held it up above his face.

‘Dad said it’s fine!’

Hongjoong said it was fine. Seonghwa had been upset about the lack of time he’d spent at Wooyoung’s family home recently and now he was going to be living there. Temporarily. But still.

Why did the thought of staying overnight for a couple days make him nervous?

Because you’re going to be alone with your crush for who knows how long, his treacherous mind reminded him. He groaned and shoved himself off the bed. It wasn’t all that. It wasn’t a big deal.

He had packing to do.

---

Of course, Hongjoong wasn’t going to be home when Seonghwa arrived. Wooyoung had told him as much over text, and Seonghwa let himself in using the code Wooyoung gave him.

It was different, being in the house all by himself. It was quiet, but at least it was warm. The universe was obviously determined to make sure everyone knew it was the start of winter break by bringing in chilling temperatures that had busted his dorm’s water pipes. The forecast had even predicted snow later in the evening.

Seonghwa brushed off his nervous energy and lugged his suitcase up the stairs. He flicked on the light in Wooyoung’s room and took in his surroundings, unsure what to do with himself. Should he spend time putting shirts on hangers or just live out of his suitcase? No decision seemed right when he wasn’t sure how long he’d be staying.

In the end, he shrugged off his jacket, pulled out his laptop, and left his suitcase alone. He could browse social media for a while, maybe listen to some music. The book he’d started lay bookmarked in his bag. He could get back to that, too.

There was no telling when Hongjoong would get home. Maybe he should have picked something up at the store before coming here? Some sort of offering as a thank you? The more he thought about it, especially when the flash of all those energy drinks came to his mind, the more he wished he’d thought of it. A quick look out the window revealed thick, dark gray clouds in the sky. As much as he wanted to run to the store, he also didn’t want to get caught in icy conditions.

He hoped Hongjoong didn’t get caught in any icy conditions either.

His restlessness brought him back to his suitcase. Gathering his toiletries, he decided to transport them to the bathroom, which was right next to Wooyoung’s room. His eyes lingered down the hallway as he flicked the bathroom light off. The room at the very end of the hall was Hongjoong’s. Seonghwa had seen him go into it before. Right now, the door was shut.

To say Seonghwa’s wasn’t curious was a lie, but he definitely would not go snooping around things that were none of his business.

A sound made his shoulders tense. The reaction itself was silly. He felt like he’d gotten caught doing something wrong when all he was doing was staring at Hongjoong’s bedroom door and wondering what his room was like. Annoyed with himself, he quietly walked toward the stairs until the front door came into view.

Hongjoong entered, shutting the door behind him and busying himself with taking off his shoes. His normal business attire draped his frame, though a burgundy and gray scarf was nestled around his neck this time, one that was being untucked and pulled off once his shoes were lined up with Seonghwa’s.

“Welcome home,” Seonghwa announced his presence. Hongjoong’s head whipped up, and the corner of his lips perked up.

“Welcome to my home,” Hongjoong greeted, hanging the scarf on the coat rack. Seonghwa projected himself down the stairs.

“Thank you, for this,” Seonghwa said sincerely, as he descended. “I’ll try not to be a bother. It should only be a few days-”

“You’re not a bother,” Hongjoong interrupted. Seonghwa took one last step and was on the same level. “Treat this place like it’s yours. Help yourself to anything.”

Hongjoong really was too kind. Seonghwa felt his nerves settle.

“Like, to one of the hundred energy drinks in your fridge?” Seonghwa had to tease.

“I may need to retract my statement. Anything but those,” Hongjoong was witty in his response and Seonghwa had to laugh. “Seriously, though, does the bathroom have towels? Are there blankets in Wooyoung’s room?”

The next few minutes were spent making sure Seonghwa was stocked up on anything he might need. It was as Seonghwa bent down to place a stack of folded towels under the sink in the bathroom that he saw a rubber duck in the way. Picking it up to move it to the side, he noticed the duck was wearing a baseball uniform. It looked old, some of the paint along the bill and the eyes chipped.

“That’s in here?” Hongjoong asked, noticing it in Seonghwa’s hand. He stood at the entrance to the bathroom, looking exasperated. “I’ve told him to put it somewhere safe.”

“The bathroom seems like the proper place for a rubber duck,” Seonghwa commented. Hongjoong took a step forward and held out his hand. Seonghwa placed the duck in that hand and then stood. Hongjoong turned the duck over, revealing a signature on the bottom.

“This is a real signature, from Jung Wooyoung. He was a player on a national league… not a hugely famous one, but seven-year-old Wooyoung was in love with baseball and fascinated that a baseball player shared his name,” Hongjoong explained. Seonghwa grinned.

“So he brought a rubber duck, of all things, to get an autograph?” Seonghwa asked.

“He went through a duck phase. It was pretty intense. I have pictures in an album somewhere.”

“An album? Like, an actual, physical album with polaroids?”

“Fuck, I just dated myself, didn’t I?” Hongjoong asked with a heavy sigh. “Don’t be cheeky. I’m not going to let you see it now.”

“Pleeease?” Seonghwa begged, folding his hands together, pouting his bottom lip, and mustering up the best puppy-dog eyes he could. He watched Hongjoong’s gaze flicker down to his lips, back to his eyes, and then dart away.

“Probably not,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa followed him out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

“Ah, it changed from a no to a ‘probably’. I’m okay with that,” Seonghwa chuckled. “What are you going to do with the duck?”

“Hide it. Let Wooyoung sweat over it when he gets home,” Hongjoong said without missing a beat.

“You’re mean,” Seonghwa huffed.

“Only sometimes,” Hongjoong grinned. Seonghwa worried at the inside of his lip. This kind of conversation would be so easy to turn around, so easy to slide into an innuendo, and Seonghwa was itching to tease. They stopped at the foot of the staircase and Hongjoong held his wrist up to check his watch. “Ah… I have some things that I need to take care of, but… later, do you want some hot chocolate?”

Seonghwa perked up.

“The homemade stuff?” Seonghwa asked.

“The homemade stuff,” Hongjoong repeated.

“And you’ll pull out those photo albums?”

“No promises there.”

“Hm. I guess I’m still sold on the hot chocolate.”

“Good. Oh, and I should give you my number, just in case you need to text me about anything while I’m out of the house.”

Seonghwa was ridiculously happy. He was getting hot chocolate, he was getting Hongjoong’s phone number, and they had plans to hang out again later. He’d held back any teasing, for now, but that was going to change.

That was going to change in the form of a pajama set with a form-fitting black tee and silky, silver shorts. It was absolutely not a set meant to be worn in the winter. Seonghwa was willing to brave goosebumps if it meant he’d have Hongjoong’s eyes on him.

Hongjoong did say to treat this place as if it were his own, so it was perfectly fine for him to waltz around in his pajamas.

The knock on his door came approximately at eight o’clock. Seonghwa placed a bookmark in his book.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to make the hot chocolate. You can come down a little later after it’s done, if you want,” Hongjoong said through the door. Seonghwa set the book down on the nightstand and grabbed his phone before opening the door. He was actually surprised that Hongjoong had not changed. The only thing different about his appearance was the absence of his tie.

“I want to come. I’ll watch you make it again, to see if I remember,” Seonghwa said.

“Alright,” Hongjoong agreed. He gave Seonghwa a once-over and then turned toward the stairs. Seonghwa was just a little miffed at the lack of reaction.

“You’re still in your work clothes?” Seonghwa asked as they walked down the stairs. Hongjoong’s eyebrows shot up and he looked down at himself.

“Oh. I didn’t even think about it.”

“Do you want to change before you make the hot chocolate?”

“Eh. These clothes are going in the laundry anyway,” Hongjoong denied. Seonghwa would not complain. He really liked the button-up shirts and slacks on Hongjoong.

“You need the milk, right?” Seonghwa asked as they entered the kitchen. He went straight for the fridge, opening it and bending down to reach the milk. The energy drink collection hadn’t dwindled in the least, and it made Seonghwa shake his head. Straightening, he shut the door and looked over at Hongjoong, who had walked past him and over to the cabinets. They were overhead cabinets. Tall cabinets. The kind that required people to look up into, especially shorter people like Hongjoong.

When Seonghwa laid his eyes on Hongjoong, though, he was looking down. Away from the cabinets. In Seonghwa’s direction.

Hongjoong snapped his head toward the cabinets, then, and opened them.

“Yeah, thanks. Do you remember the secret ingredient?” Hongjoong asked, getting things down. Seonghwa tried, and failed, to bite back a grin.

“Brown sugar,” Seonghwa recalled. It was highly amusing, to watch Hongjoong deliberately not look his way as they got out the rest of the items they’d need. It was like he was fighting with himself. When those eyes stubbornly stayed locked on melting the chocolate on the stove, though, Seonghwa felt the need to push again.

He shoved the bags of chocolate aside and hefted himself up to sit on the counter-top. The unexpected move finally forced Hongjoong to look at him, and he crossed one bare leg over the other, not caring how high the shorts rode up.

“… did you seriously just sit on the counter?” Hongjoong asked in disbelief.

“I get a birds-eye view of everything this way!” Seonghwa exclaimed, grinning.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” Seonghwa chirped. He leaned further in Hongjoong’s direction, feeling the heat rising from the stove. “How old are you?”

He still didn’t know, and he was really curious.

“Old enough to tell you to get off the counter,” Hongjoong drawled. Seonghwa planted his palms on the counter-top and leaned back against the upper cabinet, his chest puffed out a little in defiance.

“Make me,” Seonghwa suggested. If the words held a sliver of something provocative, well, Seonghwa would blame it on how attractive Hongjoong was. Their gazes locked and Seonghwa was immediately drawn to that flicker of something precarious he saw there… something dangerous and suggestive. He’d seen it before – fleeting moments of it, when Hongjoong would let his guard down enough to prove Seonghwa wasn’t the only one caught up in fascination. Those glimpses undid him. They made his yearning stronger. They whispered in his ear to just go for it, consequences be damned. They… well, they smelled like burning sugar. “… the chocolate-”

Hongjoong startled, cursed, and quickly started whisking the chocolate.

“Please get off the counter,” Hongjoong tried again. Seonghwa laughed and non-ceremoniously jumped off.

“Fine, fine,” Seonghwa exhaled, letting the moment pass. Maybe flirting with Hongjoong over an open flame wasn’t the brightest idea.

It was still exciting.

“Moments like these make me realize why your Wooyoung’s friend,” Hongjoong huffed. Seonghwa took no offense. If Wooyoung were here with them, he’d be proud. Hongjoong reached over the pot and turned off the stove. “You do realize I need to start over now?”

“What? Why?” Seonghwa asked.

“Even if the chocolate burns a little, the hot chocolate will taste bitter. This is trash,” Hongjoong explained. Seonghwa pouted and mourned the hot chocolate. Thankfully, they had enough to make a second batch. Watching him make it for a third time, Seonghwa was confident he could do it himself now.

The finished product, done the right way, was just as smooth and creamy as Seonghwa remembered. Flashes of white caught Seonghwa’s vision, and he walked over to the sliding glass door to watch snowflakes flutter down to the ground. Hongjoong joined him, and they stood there in silence for a while, sipping at their hot chocolates.

If Seonghwa caught Hongjoong sending glances his way in the reflection of the glass doors, he didn’t say anything.

---

The situation wasn’t an easy fix.

That’s what Seonghwa’s floor manager said over text, which probably meant his banishment from the dorm hall would be longer than he expected. He really didn’t mind it, not when he was in the comfort of the Kim household.

He enjoyed his time with Hongjoong, even if it wasn’t much. The urge to seek him out whenever he was home was strong, but some nights he looked rough and other nights he would still be on the phone talking about things that Seonghwa wasn’t even going to begin to understand. Seonghwa busied himself in the daytime cooking meals and neatly packaging them in individual servings for Hongjoong to have later. Hongjoong had protested, saying there was no form of rent for staying, but he always ate whatever Seonghwa made… although Seonghwa would sometimes find a container that’d been gotten into back in the fridge with most of the vegetables still in it.

Seonghwa stubbornly kept adding vegetables to every meal.

There was definite truth to what Wooyoung had said about Hongjoong being an insomniac. A handful of times when Seonghwa had gotten up in the middle of the night with his bladder complaining, a light would be on, either under Hongjoong’s bedroom door or down in the kitchen.

Christmas, his fifth day under new accommodations, was just another day. Seonghwa left the house to go into town, walking slowly to take in the decorations and lights. He bought a little something as a Christmas present to himself, and when he got back to the Kim household, he video-called his parents, chatting with them as he baked cookies. That was followed by a video-call to Wooyoung and San, who he yakked with for over an hour, despite telling them to go enjoy the holiday themselves.

Hongjoong came home very late that night. Seonghwa thought it was a little sad, but didn’t question it, knowing his workaholic tendencies. Seonghwa was already in bed, but when he heard the front door opening, he yanked the blankets off and rolled off the mattress. Opening the door, he walked over to the stairs, leaning his elbows on the banister.

“Welcome home,” Seonghwa called. It was something he’d done every day since he’d been here.

“Thank you. I thought you’d be sleeping by now,” Hongjoong commented, craning his neck up to look at him.

“I was in bed. I just wanted to let you know there’s a tin of cookies that I left on the bar,” Seonghwa said. He put a hand over his mouth when a yawned forced its way through. “Merry Christmas.”

Hongjoong’s smile was tired, but kind.

“Merry Christmas. You know, the pipes can take as long as they want to get fixed. I think I’m getting used to the greetings and the delicious food,” Hongjoong confessed. Warmth spread through Seonghwa’s chest. It settled on his cheeks. Thankfully, it was too dark to be noticed, and Seonghwa went back to bed.

It took a little while for him to fall asleep.

---

The next day, Hongjoong came home at a decent hour, but the eye-bags beneath his eyes were so pronounced you would have thought he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night. Maybe he hadn’t. Seonghwa hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night, this time, so he had no way of knowing how long the lights in the house stayed on.

Usually, when Hongjoong looked this worn down, Seonghwa would leave him alone. Tonight, though, he didn’t want to.

“… there are only two cookies left,” Seonghwa observed after opening the tin. He was seated on a bar stool with Hongjoong next to him. The older man’s briefcase was open, and he was looking through some papers, glasses perched on his nose. He set those papers down at Seonghwa’s comment, though.

“… were the cookies not mine?” Hongjoong asked with quiet panic.

“There were twenty cookies in here last night,” Seonghwa emphasized, pressing a finger against the tin.

“I- I was up late. I kept eating them,” Hongjoong groaned. He pressed fingers into the scrunch in the middle of his brows. “Sorry.”

Seonghwa’s laugh was light.

“That good, huh?” Seonghwa asked, taking a small bite out of one. The edges were golden and crumbly. The batch had come out nicely. “I’m flattered, but a diet of energy drinks and sugar cookies is very unsustainable.”

“Are you making a crack at my age again?”

“It’s unsustainable for anyone. Don’t jump me,” Seonghwa teased.

Or do jump me, his brain unhelpfully supplied.

“I eat other things,” Hongjoong protested.

“Other than granola bars, energy drinks, or anything I’ve made for you, tell me what else you’ve had recently.”

“… I went to a hot pot with some coworkers. Like… two weeks ago.”

“The epitome of health.”

Hongjoong grumbled something, and then rolled his shoulders. Seonghwa watched the movement, chewing on another bite of his cookie. He really did look like Hell today, yet he was determined enough to keep looking through the papers in front of him. Seonghwa finished up the two cookies and washed the tin out in the sink. When he was finished, he turned around to see Hongjoong in the exact same place, doing the exact same thing, rolling his shoulders again.

Seonghwa knew he should probably just leave him alone. Instead, he walked behind him.

“How many hours do you spend hunched over a desk?” Seonghwa asked. He rested his hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders from behind and felt Hongjoong go still beneath the touch. “Do you want a massage?”

He let the offer stand still in the air. His hands didn’t move, just rested on Hongjoong’s shoulders. Seonghwa pressed his lips together tightly to tamper down a smile. If anything, Hongjoong’s muscles were growing even tighter.

“I- I’m fine,” Hongjoong replied with a quick stutter. A hand came up to bat at Seonghwa’s, and Seonghwa laughed, retreating. “Just tired.”

Seonghwa sat back in the stool next to him, endeared by the pink hue creeping up his neck and the way he was, again, avoiding eye contact with him. He may have called Seonghwa cute, but Seonghwa couldn’t help but think he was cute in this moment. A forty-some-year-old dad was cute. Oh, he really was in trouble.

“Then stop working,” Seonghwa suggested. He thought he’d be ignored. To his surprise, Hongjoong sighed and took off his glasses, depositing them on the counter. He started piling the loose papers up until he had a stack, and placed them back in his briefcase.

“Probably for the best,” Hongjoong agreed, shutting the briefcase. He rested an elbow on the counter and propped his head up on his hand, facing Seonghwa. “Really, sorry about eating all of your cookies. I can’t believe I had eighteen of them.”

Seonghwa mirrored the pose, facing Hongjoong. He was thrilled that Hongjoong was choosing to put his work aside and focus on him.

“Did you even get any sleep last night?” Seonghwa questioned, and he watched Hongjoong shrug.

“Maybe a couple hours? Probably on a sugar high.”

“Don’t blame me for your lack of sleep,” Seonghwa mumbled. Hongjoong grinned. “Did Wooyoung text you the pictures of San and him on Nami Island?”

“Yeah. What kind of person goes on a two-week vacation with someone they’ve been dating like a month? My son.”

“It’s definitely a good way to get to know each other more.”

“It’s a good way to find out you don’t like something and then you’re stuck with them for the remainder of the vacation.”

Seonghwa snorted.

“San is a good catch. I don’t know how well you know him, but he is.”

“Oh, I like you sticking around here. Please don’t steal Wooyoung’s boyfriend.”

Seonghwa gasped as if he were offended, throwing a hand over his heart. He would catalog that ‘I like you sticking around here’ compliment for later.

“I would never,” Seonghwa aggrieved. He swerved in the bar stool, not so accidentally nudging Hongjoong’s leg with his own. The other startled, so gently that Seonghwa would have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. It was with a coy smile that he held Hongjoong’s gaze. “He’s not my type.”

Seonghwa waited, daring Hongjoong to take the bait and ask what his type was. He swore that if Hongjoong actually did that, if he took that little step, Seonghwa would make a move. A real move. Not just flirting. Not just teasing. Because he wanted to. So badly.

But Seonghwa could see Hongjoong retreating, like he always did, right before him.

“Good,” was all Hongjoong said, averting his eyes and straightening up. He rolled his shoulders once more before slipping off the bar stool. “I’m going to bid you a good-night here and go up to my bedroom.”

Seonghwa’s heart sank in disappointment. It rabbited in frustration.

“Aw, you’re going to leave me alone down here?” Seonghwa asked.

“You should go to bed too.”

“It’s winter vacation. I have nowhere to be.”

“Well, I have to work tomorrow.”

“We both know you run on like four hours of sleep, maximum,” Seonghwa responded. Truly, he wanted Hongjoong to get the sleep he needed. He wanted him to get rid of this dragged-down look. But he was also a little miffed.

“Are you trying to be a bad influence right now?” Hongjoong questioned.

“Maybe. I just want company. You’re good company,” Seonghwa confessed, and was rewarded a warm smile in return.

“Thank you for pitying this old man,” Hongjoong said with a wry chuckle. The words sat wrong in Seonghwa’s ears. He needed Hongjoong to understand-

“Please, you’re a total dilf,” Seonghwa said, watching Hongjoong carefully. “I still want to see those photo albums, by the way.”

It was a pathetic attempt at making Hongjoong stick around.

“A what?” Hongjoong asked, eyebrow raised. “Dilf?”

Seonghwa grinned. Even if it was unknowingly, Hongjoong had encouraged something, had given Seonghwa an in.

He was done with pushing.

He was going to shove.

“Yeah, dilf,” Seonghwa repeated. “It’s an acronym. Dad I’d like to fuck.”

To Seonghwa’s utter delight, Hongjoong’s lips parted before his entire face flushed red. He went to grab for the handle of his briefcase, failed, and tried again.

“… I’m definitely heading to bed now,” Hongjoong’s voice was strained as he spoke. Briefcase secured, he did a one-eighty and promptly left the room with a firm “good night.”

Seonghwa sat there on the bar stool for a while after his departure, feeling victorious. Giddy. It was all out there, now.

All there was left to do was to let it play out.

---

He should have known, with all previous interactions in mind, that Hongjoong would lean on what was reliable.

Avoidance.

Not in any kind of overt way. It wasn’t like Hongjoong stayed at work late to avoid him, or gave him the cold shoulder, or stopped accepting the food Seonghwa made. It happened in more subtle ways, like even less eye contact, lulls in conversations, and more holing himself up in his bedroom rather than other parts of the house where Seonghwa could follow. Seonghwa allowed the tension to fester for two days before bringing it up. Hongjoong wasn’t going to address it, not unless Seonghwa did.

“I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable with the dilf thing,” Seonghwa spoke. They were seated at the bar, Hongjoong nearly finished with the food Seonghwa had cooked for him. With Seonghwa at his side, he begrudgingly ate more of the vegetables than he normally would.

The chopsticks hesitated in mid-air before Hongjoong took the final bite and chewed. He then slid off the stool, taking his bowl and chopsticks to the sink.

“… it took me off guard, I’m not going to lie,” Hongjoong replied, rinsing the dishes. His back was turned to Seonghwa, and Seonghwa roamed his gaze down his body line. “Especially coming from you.”

“Why?” Seonghwa prompted. He hiked his elbows up on the bar and rested his chin in his palms. “I may be your son’s friend, but we’re both adults here, Hongjoong. No laws against being attracted to each other.”

Hongjoong turned the faucet off and practically snatched the dish towel off the ring. When he turned around, he was drying his hands ferociously, and he looked somewhat defeated.

“How- am I that transparent?” Hongjoong groaned, his nose turning a subtle shade of pink. Seonghwa snickered.

“Your looks haven’t exactly been subtle,” Seonghwa replied. Hongjoong hung the dish towel back up and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms in front of him as if to create a barrier between them.

“Sorry,” Hongjoong mumbled, casting his gaze to the side.

“Why are you apologizing? I like it,” Seonghwa spoke honestly. When Hongjoong finally met his gaze again, Seonghwa quirked an eyebrow. “Do you really think I normally wear short pajama bottoms in the winter?”

Hongjoong looked a little pained.

“… there should be a law,” Hongjoong grumbled, looking away again. Seonghwa’s smile widened.

“Oh? Well I broke it,” Seonghwa chirped happily. He slid his chin off his palms and pressed his fists together, extending them toward Hongjoong. “You wanna put me in handcuffs?”

It was fun to watch Hongjoong choke on nothing.

“… I’m going to go work in my room,” Hongjoong drawled, wary, giving Seonghwa a look and pushing himself off the counter to start walking toward the living room.

“Can I join?” Seonghwa asked as Hongjoong walked by.

“No,” Hongjoong said, determined steps guiding him forward. Seonghwa laughed.

“You’re cute,” Seonghwa commented, raising his voice because Hongjoong was already in another room. There was no response, just the faint sound of shuffling up the stairs and down the hall before a door shut.

---

The text from his floor manager came the next day.

‘We’re so sorry for the inconvenience, but the dorm will be open again on Friday.’ Seonghwa had snorted when he read it. He could go back to his dorm for a single day of winter break, then after a weekend, classes would start up again. He really was lucky to have the Kim residence at his fingertips.

He was not so lucky regarding Hongjoong.

Seonghwa had given him his normal ‘welcome home’ greeting before realizing he was on the phone. Hongjoong flashed him an apologetic smile and had gone straight to his bedroom. He was talking for what had to be hours – Seonghwa could hear his muffled voice down the hallway. Waking up the next morning and realizing he had fallen asleep without even talking with Hongjoong made him pout.

Winter break was coming to an end. His classes would start, Wooyoung would be back, and his nightly talks with Hongjoong were going to stop. He found himself grieving over something that hadn’t even happened yet.

On Thursday, Seonghwa met Hongjoong at the door. He’d clearly stopped by the store on the way home, bags hanging from his wrist.

“Wooyoung called me. He practically ordered me to tell you that he wants you to make gimbap before your classes start up,” Hongjoong explained.

“And you bought the ingredients for it before you even asked me?” Seonghwa asked. Hongjoong raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Were you going to say no?”

“Not if you want me to make it, too,” Seonghwa teased. He caught the little smile on the corner of Hongjoong’s lips as they entered the kitchen. The grocery bags were deposited on the counter and Hongjoong unpacked them. Seonghwa grabbed the items he was familiar with, helping to put them away. He noticed more chocolate, milk, marshmallows, and whipped cream and smiled to himself. He wondered just how many times they made hot chocolate in the winter. “When did you say Wooyoung was coming home?”

Seonghwa hadn’t told Hongjoong that his dorm hall would be accessible tomorrow.

“The fifth,” Hongjoong answered. Saturday, then. The day after tomorrow. He worried at the inside of his lip. He didn’t have to tell Hongjoong that he could leave tomorrow. He could just… omit that little piece of information and have one more day to spend with him. But it was selfish. He’d already imposed on Hongjoong too much.

He wouldn’t make that decision now.

“Do you want to watch a movie tonight?” Seonghwa asked, once all the groceries were put away.

“A movie?” Hongjoong parroted. Seonghwa didn’t blame him for being confused. The television hadn’t been turned on once since winter break had started.

“Yeah. You can pick. I don’t mind if it’s black and white,” Seonghwa snickered. Hongjoong sent him a withering glare. “Seriously, though, all you do is work, work, work. Even on Christmas! I say you should take the day off tomorrow. We can stay up late watching movies.” A sly grin took over his face. He nonchalantly patted at his silver shorts. “I’ll even let you rest your head on my lap. Run my fingers through your hair.”

He was trying to tempt Hongjoong, but he was only succeeding in tempting himself. He suddenly really wished they could do just that, even if it would be on the stiff couch that was hardly ever used in the living room.

He kind of expected Hongjoong to blush, or avert his eyes, or change the subject. Seonghwa was absolutely prepared to come back with other options, anything that allowed them to spend time together.

He didn’t expect Hongjoong to hold his gaze, contemplative. Seonghwa straightened a little.

“Stop teasing me,” Hongjoong said. The words were measured, resolute.

“I’m not,” Seonghwa immediately denied. At Hongjoong’s little scowl, Seonghwa caved. “Okay, I’m totally teasing you, but I’m not insincere.”

That was actually the problem. He was so sincere. At this point, he’d take anything Hongjoong was willing to give.

“Why are you doing this?” Hongjoong asked. He crossed his arms again, creating that barrier again. This time, though, there was a lack of banter. He was seriously asking. Seonghwa felt his heart sink a little, but tried to keep his mood light.

“Why? I told you, you’re a dilf-”

“Dad I’d like to fuck. Yeah,” Hongjoong interrupted. He shook his head a little. “I don’t think I’m ever going to forget that one. But that’s exactly what I’m saying. A dad. I’m Wooyoung’s dad. Doesn’t that weird you out a little?”

Seonghwa’s fingers fiddled with the ends of his shorts. He realized with wry hilarity that it was he, now, who wanted to avert his gaze.

“Not really,” Seonghwa rejected, though his mind was spiraling a bit. It should probably weird him out a bit. It obviously weirded Hongjoong out a little bit. His heart sank more, but his lips parted anyway. “Wooyoung already knows I think you’re hot.”

There was the blush, so pretty on Hongjoong’s cheeks. But it was accompanied with a look of disbelief.

“Jesus,” Hongjoong breathed out, bringing a hand up to cover his face. It felt like another barrier.

It felt like a last straw.

“… okay, I’ll stop,” Seonghwa said. Hongjoong took the hand away from his face and met his eyes.

“What?”

“At some point, it starts looking a little pathetic, trying so hard when you’re clearly uncomfortable. So I’ll stop,” Seonghwa pushed the words out, crossing his own arms. He felt awkward. Embarrassed. A little mortified.

He felt sad.

This was absolutely not how he wanted his last night with Hongjoong to go. This was not how he wanted anything with Hongjoong to go.

“Seonghwa-”

“Promise me you won’t like… be awkward around me when I hang out with Wooyoung in the future?” Seonghwa interrupted, pleadingly. Hongjoong blinked, a frown forming on his lips.

“Of course not-”

“I’ll hold you to that, then, Mr. Kim,” Seonghwa said, rather stiffly. He kept his arms tightly folded together and tried to offer a smile as he walked out of the kitchen. “Try to get some rest. Good night!”

He power-walked up the stairs for a quick get-away and into Wooyoung’s room. He shut the door, softly, and leaned against it for a moment.

He was so stupid. Hadn’t he been the one, early on, to chalk up this stupid little crush as something that would go nowhere? When had that changed? When he found out Hongjoong was attracted to him, too? Stupid. Just because Hongjoong found him attractive didn’t mean he wanted to fuck a twenty-one-year-old college student who was friends with his son. Hongjoong really was the mature one here, wasn’t he?

Pushing himself away from the door, he slid off his stupid little shorts and tee to replace them with proper winter attire, soft gray pajama bottoms and a shirt that was two sizes too big, before collapsing onto the mattress. It was what he should have done in the first place.

Ideally, he would sleep the rest of the night away, but his body and mind felt like live wires, not the least bit tired. He wondered if this was how Hongjoong felt, when he couldn’t sleep.

He really should stop thinking about Hongjoong.

That was a hard feat to accomplish, though. He tossed and turned for a while. Then, he slipped down to the floor and unpacked everything in his suitcase, only to fold it more neatly or tuck it in more securely as he put it all back. Living out of it had made it a mess, and organizing it would be good for when it came time to leave. He contemplated reading, but knew he didn’t have the attention span for it at the moment, so he settled for playing games on his phone.

He wondered when he should leave tomorrow. It didn’t feel right, leaving Hongjoong without a good-bye, despite everything, but it didn’t feel right to lounge around the house and wait for Hongjoong to get home from work to say good-bye, either.

Maybe he could just text him, now that he had his number.

There was a knock. It was soft, but it startled Seonghwa anyway. He lifted his head to stare at the door, taking a few seconds too long to respond.

“What?” Seonghwa called.

“Sorry, I just saw that your light was still on. I... thought I’d tell you that I’m making hot chocolate. If you want any,” Hongjoong’s voice flowed through the wood. Seonghwa felt a squeeze in his chest. He took a deep breath and let it out.

Hongjoong really was kind.

Seonghwa needed to stop being a brat about this. Being rejected wasn’t the end of the world, and this particular rejection made perfect sense. He didn’t want to make things awkward with Hongjoong or Wooyoung. They were good people, and Seonghwa didn’t want to lose them. He could swallow down his humiliation and act normal.

He hauled himself off the bed and opened the door. Hongjoong looked surprised and took a step back.

“I’ll make it,” Seonghwa declared. Hongjoong raised his eyebrows.

“You’re going to make hot chocolate?” Hongjoong clarified.

“I’ve seen you do it three times. I want to see if I can do it,” Seonghwa said. Hongjoong blinked and then huffed a small laugh.

“Be my guest,” Hongjoong replied, gesturing toward the stairs. Seonghwa smiled, happy that things weren’t too awkward, and led him down the stairs.

Seonghwa talked as he made the hot chocolate, checking in with Hongjoong every step of the way. Hongjoong hovered nearby, watching every move, and offered bits of advice here and there. He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t extremely honed in on how close Hongjoong was to him at all times. Still, he didn’t allow it to distract him. He puffed his chest out when the chocolatey concoction was finished and he really had remembered every step.

“Be prepared for Wooyoung to ask you to make it all year-around now,” Hongjoong warned.

“Bring it. I have so many things I’ll hold over his head for this,” Seonghwa commented, making Hongjoong laugh as he got mugs down from the cabinets. Seonghwa meandered to the fridge, pausing when he noticed two cans of whipped cream. One was already open and the other hadn’t had the plastic ring ripped off yet, so he grabbed the already opened one. He set it on the counter, noting Hongjoong had already gotten out the marshmallows and was pouring the hot chocolate into the mugs.

“I found the photo album. If you still want to see it,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa slid in place next to him, carefully dragging one of the filled mugs in front of him.

“You found it? Is that why you weren’t letting me see it? You didn’t even know where it was?” Seonghwa asked, pouring marshmallows into his cup. Hongjoong’s smile was sheepish and Seonghwa laughed.

He reached for the can of whipped cream.

The can was light, lighter than he’d noticed when he got it from the fridge, but that was only a vague thought as he shook it. When he pressed on the tip, though, expecting the cream to shoot out onto the chocolate in the mug, there was a hiss of air and spurts. The remnants of whipped cream left in the can shot out sporadically, splattering the counter and his shirt. He flinched when some even landed on his face, and he quickly stopped pressing the nozzle down. His lips parted in surprise. His eyes took in the mess.

Hongjoong started laughing beside him, which made the corners of Seonghwa’s own lips twitch upwards.

“Oh, man..” Seonghwa giggled, setting the can down on the counter so he could do no more damage. Hongjoong shuffled behind him, and then a paper towel was being offered. Seonghwa took it, the blush on his cheeks giving away his embarrassment as he dabbed at the white spots littering his shirt and the counter.

“Sorry. I didn’t know that one was so low. I bought another one today,” Hongjoong said, still looking incredibly amused. Something caught at the very edge of Seonghwa’s vision, and he made a distressed noise.

“Oh my God. Is it in my hair?” Seonghwa muttered. He tugged at a strand of hair to better see it. Sure enough, there was a white speck in the raven locks. He hastily used the paper towel to get it.

“And on your face,” Hongjoong noted. With another noise of unhappiness, Seonghwa folded the paper towel and used an unsoiled side to dab at his cheeks and nose. He wished there was a mirror in the kitchen. Maybe he should excuse himself to the restroom to make sure he didn’t look like a fool.

“Did I get it all?” Seonghwa asked, turning his body to face Hongjoong.

“Hm,” Hongjoong hummed, gaze roving over Seonghwa’s features. Seonghwa’s heart gave a treacherous lurch at the attention, at how close they were. He tried his best to shut it down. It was a little sickening, that he’d already severed those chances mere hours ago, had come to terms with the fact he was making Hongjoong uncomfortable, yet he couldn’t relinquish the pull that wanted him close to Hongjoong at all times. “A little here.”

A hand, warm and solid, sought Seonghwa’s cheek. Seonghwa stilled as Hongjoong’s thumb brushed over the skin.

It was only because of the whipped cream. He was trying to get it off. That was it.

But.

His hand wasn’t leaving. It lingered, and Seonghwa found himself trapped under a stare that was no longer playful, but something else entirely. Something that kick-started the butterflies in his stomach all over again and made heat crawl in his lower abdomen.

It was that look again – the one that got Seonghwa’s hopes up in the first place. It was the look that screamed Hongjoong found him just as attractive. Filled with desire, with yearning. Seonghwa could so easily crumble under that stare, and now it was right in front of him, clear as day.

But he wouldn’t crumble.

Even if they both found each other attractive, there were too many messy variables. Seonghwa understood. He swallowed and let out a small breath.

“Thanks,” Seonghwa replied. His voice was low between them, like a shared secret. He hoped the smile he was giving Hongjoong didn’t seem weird or strained. He was afraid to move, anticipating Hongjoong’s touch would disappear. The other man would walk to the fridge, offer Seonghwa the extra whipped cream, and they’d enjoy their hot chocolate. They’d sit at the kitchen’s bar, a respectable distance away, and talk about this and that until they grew too tired and veered to their separate rooms for the night. Tomorrow, Seonghwa would leave the comfort of this large, radiant house and make his way back to his comparatively small, rickety dorm-room. Wooyoung and San would be back home the day after that, and everything would go back to the way it’d always been.

Hongjoong just had to lean back.

He leaned forward, instead.

It was a shock to Seonghwa’s system. Frozen under the weight of disbelief, he gasped, his lips trembling beneath the gentle but firm way he was kissed. The hand was still at his cheek, burning through his skin. Seonghwa’s own hands slackened, the paper towel fluttering down to the floor. Every exploratory sweep of Hongjoong’s lips against his was soft, warm, electric.

A quiet admission.

A quiet surrender.

The wall Seonghwa had carefully constructed between them, to protect himself, to protect this family who so effortlessly allowed him into their orbit, shattered in an instant. His heart rabbited in his chest as Hongjoong parted their lips with the smallest audible sound, hovering close. His eyelids slid open and their gazes met again. Hongjoong’s pupils were dilated, shaky, as they dropped to Seonghwa’s lips and flicked back up again.

A question.

Maybe even an apology.

Seonghwa didn’t care. He didn’t allow himself to think. Hongjoong had given him the green light, and he wasn’t about to waste it.

His hand shot forward, fingers digging into the fabric of Hongjoong’s shirt to roughly pull him in. Their bodies melded together, Hongjoong’s pressing Seonghwa’s up against the counter, and their lips connected in a way that was frantic. Passionate. Seonghwa moaned into it, arched his back into it, loved the way Hongjoong gripped his hips and dipped his tongue into his mouth.

Finally.

He could finally taste, finally touch. He could finally dig his fingertips into those broad shoulders and scrape his teeth along that bottom lip. Every nerve lit up at the realization, arousal pooling dark and deep in his groin. The thought of hot chocolate was long gone, his mind playing a rendition of nothing but demands, wants, needs, to covet Hongjoong’s attention.

The kiss was a messy tangle of teeth and tongue and Seonghwa was relishing every second of it, especially when Hongjoong would let out little sounds, little sighs, of appreciation, of desire. Seonghwa smothered every one by tilting his head and slotting their lips in yet another way. A shiver shot up his spine as their tongues wetly slid together.

They were so close, body to body, yet Hongjoong pulled him in anyway. A gasp tore through Seonghwa’s parted lips when the movement jostled him, nestled their hips together. He whined, chasing the feeling again by rolling his hips, feeling himself grow hard. His eyelids fluttered at how good it felt. He heard Hongjoong groan, too, and tilted his head back, shamelessly continuing the movement of his hips. Hongjoong buried his face into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck, mouthing. Licking. Biting. Seonghwa lolled his head to the side and gave in to the treatment, breathy whines and rustling fabric filling the space between them.

Seonghwa’s stomach fluttered when Hongjoong’s hands dipped beneath his too-large t-shirt and ran up his sides, bundling the shirt at his ribs. With another kiss along the curve of the visible cord in his neck, Hongjoong pulled back just enough to rake his eyes over Seonghwa’s body and then continue his tug on the shirt. Seonghwa lifted his arms and let the other man pull it off of him. The shirt fluttered to the floor, immediately forgotten. Hongjoong’s hands were back on his skin, sliding down his sides, thumbs digging into the area below Seonghwa’s bellybutton and making his cock twitch pathetically in the confines of his pajama bottoms.

Hongjoong’s eyes were sweeping over him, over the newly exposed skin. Hungry. Heated.

Seonghwa felt so very wanted under that gaze. He thought back to their first meeting, when he’d caught Hongjoong walking away from the sliding glass door after he’d gotten out of the pool in search of a towel. Had Hongjoong looked at his body like this, then, too?

“You’re beautiful,” Hongjoong spoke reverently. His hands were still moving, like they wanted to seek every expanse of honeyed skin they could. Fingers toyed above the top of Seonghwa’s pajamas, but didn’t venture downward. Seonghwa’s cheeks warmed, and he offered a grin, biting at the bottom of his lip.

“You’re really fucking hot,” Seonghwa replied. Hongjoong smiled, and shook his head the tiniest bit, like he didn’t believe him. Or maybe he didn’t believe they were in this situation. Either way, Seonghwa welcomed the fact Hongjoong huddled back into his space again, breathing over his lips in search of another kiss. Seonghwa wrapped his arms around Hongjoong’s shoulders, caressing the shorter hair on the nape of his neck. He practically said the next words against Hongjoong’s lips. “There’s no need to flatter me, you know.”

It was true. Seonghwa didn’t need to be buttered up, not by this man. He was ready to do anything the other asked of him. He felt compelled to prove it, so he reached down to grab at one of Hongjoong’s wrists, shoving his hand down to make space between them. Stealing Hongjoong’s lips in a kiss, he pressed Hongjoong’s palm against the bulge in his pants in an act of assurance. Or maybe in greed. He’d been rutting up against Hongjoong; it was already clear that he was turned on. But the feeling of Hongjoong’s hand, even through the layers of clothing, cupping his dick and stroking- Seonghwa jerked his hips and whined into Hongjoong’s open mouth. The sound was swallowed by languid strokes of his tongue and Seonghwa was beginning to feel too hot, even though his shirt was lying in a heap on the floor next to him. The hard counter pressing into the small of his back was starting to sting a little, but the sensation was dulled by the delicious friction of Hongjoong’s hand. Seonghwa whimpered, panting into the kiss, tugging at the hair around his fingers at a flick of Hongjoong’s wrist that had his toes curling.

The kiss broke with a wet sound, and Seonghwa observed Hongjoong look down through bleary eyes. He followed the motion, roughly swallowing at the wet spot that had formed beneath Hongjoong’s ministrations. A little embarrassing. Hongjoong certainly didn’t agree, though, letting out a soft groan. His hand fell away and Seonghwa missed it immediately.

“I’m not flattering you. I’m being honest,” Hongjoong said. The change in timber, just a little wrecked, had another flood of arousal swirling in the bottom of Seonghwa’s stomach. Hongjoong moved with a purpose, then, sliding his hands to the soft flesh beneath Seonghwa’s ass and meeting his eyes. “Hold on to me.”

Seonghwa took a second to comprehend.

“Wha- seriously?” Seonghwa asked, startled and intrigued all the same. He tightened his hold on Hongjoong’s shoulders and felt his weight shift to the balls of his feet before he was lifted into Hongjoong’s arms. Their bodies slid together and Seonghwa wrapped his legs around Hongjoong’s waist. Hongjoong’s hands had a tight hold under his ass, and Seonghwa watched in awe as Hongjoong turned them around and started walking toward the living room. “I- I’m not too heavy?”

Seonghwa was skinny, but he had muscle, and he was taller than Hongjoong. He couldn’t help but fret, even as a part of him marveled over being manhandled like this.

“Are you saying I’m too old for this?” Hongjoong asked, flashing him a playful, but daring look. Amusement buzzed in Seonghwa’s chest and shook his shoulders.

“I never said that,” Seonghwa purred, running a finger teasingly down the shell of Hongjoong’s ear. To his delight, he could see the pale skin flush pink. Then, he realized they were turning another corner and about to ascend the stairs. Seonghwa turned wide eyes up the staircase, doubt prickling at the back of his mind, but Hongjoong was determined, and didn’t let up his grip as he started up the steps. “Up the stairs and everything?!”

Seonghwa was tickled. He kind of wanted to swing his legs, but for Hongjoong’s sake, and his own, he refrained. Hongjoong snorted, grinning. Seonghwa was drawn to the way his eyes twinkled with mirth, the way the lines at the corners of his eyes were more prominent with the big smile on his face.

He was so incredibly handsome.

“You look like you’re enjoying it,” Hongjoong noted. There was a bit of a huff to it, though. They were a little more than halfway up the stairs and he was breathing harder.

Seonghwa was endeared.

“Is there some strain in your voice, Mr. Kim?” Seonghwa asked, deciding to tease him. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to kiss him. He would have to wait until Hongjoong put him down.

“Don’t call me that,” Hongjoong protested. Finally, he lifted Seonghwa past the last step and started leading him down the hallway, past Wooyoung’s room. Seonghwa had never ventured this far down the hallway. He’d never had reason to enter Hongjoong’s room before. Anticipation buzzed along his skin.

“What should I call you? Handsome? Dilf?” Seonghwa bantered. He drew designs with his finger, dragging the tip behind Hongjoong’s ear and down his neck. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It quelled his restless hands until they could be used for a better purpose. He felt Hongjoong swallow as they passed the threshold of Hongjoong’s room. Curiosity led Seonghwa to look around, to take in sights he hadn’t seen before, but Hongjoong was suddenly dipping him onto the bed. It was a jerky, quick movement that had Seonghwa squealing as his lower back hit the mattress. He scrambled backwards on the sheets, making room for Hongjoong, who wasted no time crawling onto the mattress on all fours to cage Seonghwa in. Seonghwa felt that familiar heat wash over him as he opened his legs to allow Hongjoong to settle between them.

“Just Hongjoong,” Hongjoong responded, once again taking the time to drag his gaze up and down Seonghwa’s body. He treated the sight of Seonghwa like he’d been starved, like he’d only ever allowed himself to have a few quick glances that were never enough. Seonghwa understood. He felt the same way.

“Beautiful.”

That’s what he’d told Seonghwa he was.

Seonghwa wanted to be beautiful for him. He wanted those eyes to stay on him.

“Mm, alright,” Seonghwa relented. He played into that heavy gaze, tossing his arms above his head and splaying his body out. Submissive. Completely ready for anything Hongjoong was willing to give. It also felt… safe, letting Hongjoong call the shots. He would probably cry in frustration if Hongjoong backed out now. “Tell me what you want, Hongjoong.”

“There are... so many things I could say to that,” Hongjoong replied. There was a certain reverence to the way he drank Seonghwa in, to the way he cupped Seonghwa’s jaw and pressed his thumb just under Seonghwa’s bottom lip. Seonghwa leaned into the touch.

This one was intentional.

There was no whipped cream around to offer an excuse.

“Are there?” Seonghwa asked, deceptively coy. He loved this side of Hongjoong… honest with his admiration. This was exactly what Seonghwa had been trying to coax out of him for days. He lifted his arms to wrap them, once more, around Hongjoong’s shoulders. “We do have all night. I’m certainly open to suggestions.”

The thumb brushed the corner of his lips, stroking up and back down. Hongjoong’s eyes continued to dart, drinking him in. It made his heart race.

“… what about you?” Hongjoong asked. He tilted Seonghwa’s chin up, leaning down to shower Seonghwa’s jawline with feather-light kisses. Seonghwa’s eyelids fluttered shut, his hand cupping the back of Hongjoong’s head with splayed fingers. His skin flushed with tingles when those soft lips brushed against his earlobe, and then Hongjoong was pulling back again. The arms bracketing his shoulders didn’t let him go very far, but they allowed Hongjoong to look into his eyes again, allowed him to give Seonghwa a heart-stoppingly soft smile. “I feel like I’m getting the better end of the bargain here, so what do you want?”

Seonghwa could melt into the bed. He was sure of it. It was a little insane how much he needed this man to touch him-

He slipped his hands down to fit themselves around the curve of Hongjoong’s face.

“I really need you to understand I have wanted you to fuck me since I first saw you in the kitchen with your stupidly hot voice and your stupidly loose tie,” Seonghwa asserted. Every word seemed to make Hongjoong’s eyes grow a fraction wider, until he tucked his chin down and let out a small, breathless laugh.

“Fuck. Okay,” Hongjoong said, his voice deeper than usual. When he met Seonghwa’s eyes again, it was with a devilish smirk. “And my first thought was my son’s best friend is the hottest person I’ve ever seen.”

Seonghwa used his grip on Hongjoong’s face to pull him into another searing kiss. Hongjoong made a sound into his mouth, something husky and satisfied, that had Seonghwa arching his back and pressing in closer. Tilting his head, gliding his tongue along Hongjoong’s, sucking on his lower lip, it was all so satisfying yet not enough at the same time. He sought that mouth, again and again, until he could start to predict just how Hongjoong would press his tongue and turn his head, until a bead of saliva pooled at the corner of his mouth and his breathing was ragged.

Hongjoong was a really good kisser. Attentive and thorough and not afraid to press a little hard to make Seonghwa feel like he would be devoured. Seonghwa could kiss Hongjoong like this all day. Yet, Hongjoong above him like this, caging him in, between his legs, was reminding him that he wanted to do so much more than kissing. The kissing was just spurring him on, making him throb in his pants. Seonghwa trailed his hands down Hongjoong’s torso and grabbed at the hem of his shirt, sliding his fingertips along bare skin as he pulled it up. Hongjoong broke the kiss so he could shuck the shirt off.

Seonghwa hardly even got to appreciate the flood of newly revealed skin, though, before Hongjoong was burying his face in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck.

“What do you like?” Hongjoong asked against his skin. Seonghwa shivered as wet kisses were trailed along his neck and jaw. “Ears? Neck? Do you want me to play with your chest?”

Seonghwa jerked when Hongjoong’s thumbs brushed over his nipples. He let out a little whine, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“Anything. Just… your voice is really nice,” Seonghwa said, his own cheeks flushing. He wondered if that was a weird thing to say. Here Hongjoong was being incredibly generous by trying to gauge what turned him on the most and he brought up his little voice kink.

“My voice? You did mention that. My ‘stupidly hot voice’,” Hongjoong chuckled. The hair on Seonghwa’s arms stood on end. He was doing that on purpose, making his voice deeper, raspier. Seonghwa’s lips parted when Hongjoong’s nose nudged the side of his head, when lips brushed his ear. “Do you just want me to tell you how pretty you are?”

Hongjoong kissed his ear, then, trailing his top lip along the curve of it. Seonghwa dug his fingertips into Hongjoong’s back, whining again.

“Tell you how much of a tease you were in those short shorts? Drove me absolutely crazy,” Hongjoong whispers, heatedly, not sparing Seonghwa any relief, especially when a warm tongue laved his earlobe. Every nerve ending felt shot. It was embarrassing, how frazzled he felt from just this-

A curse spilled from his lips when Hongjoong rubbed his thumbs over his nipples again. He felt himself leak more into his already-messy underwear, and he knew if he let this continue, he was just going to turn into a needy mess. Part of him wanted to. He wanted to let Hongjoong break him down and take him apart. But-

Seonghwa slammed his feet against the mattress and used his legs to push Hongjoong to the side. It wasn’t an ideal angle. Hongjoong had the advantage, but he gave in anyway, letting Seonghwa roll them until Seonghwa was on top, bracketing Hongjoong’s thighs with his legs. He sat in Hongjoong’s lap, biting his lip at the feeling of the other man hard beneath him.

“If I would have known you were fantasizing about me in those short shorts, I would have kept them on for you,” Seonghwa teased. He rocked in Hongjoong’s lap, slowly, dragging their bulges together under the confines of their pants. Hongjoong groaned, wrapping his hands around the tops of Seonghwa’s thighs. “Should I go get them?”

The hands on his thighs squeezed harder.

“Stay here. They’d come off, anyway, just like these,” Hongjoong responded. He gave a playful tug to the strings on the front of the pants. Seonghwa felt the elastic snap back into place.

“Is that what you want? You want me to take these off?” Seonghwa asked, trembling at a particularly pleasurable drag of their hips. It felt so good, the leisurely back-and-forth motion. It was the fact Hongjoong was just letting him use his body, too, surrendering control even when it’d be so easy for him to grab Seonghwa’s hips and rut up into him-

Seonghwa swallowed at his own thoughts.

His attention snapped back to focus when he heard Hongjoong laugh.

“This whole ‘but what do you want’ thing could go back and forth all night. I think we’re both people-pleasers,” Hongjoong said, amused. Seonghwa felt laughter bubble out before he could think to stop it.

“I think you may be right,” Seonghwa chuckled. He paused his rocking to lean closer, using a hand to brush back some of the dark strands on Hongjoong’s forehead. “I want you to fuck me.” Seonghwa trailed his fingers down the side of Hongjoong’s face and down his chest. “As long as I get to feel you inside of me, you can do whatever you want with me.”

Hongjoong’s eyes grew dark. In a similar motion to Seonghwa’s own moments before, Hongjoong used his arms to push Seonghwa sideways. Seonghwa let himself be pushed, be rolled, until again, he was lying with his back against the mattress and looking up at Hongjoong. The rolling had moved them further up the bed, and Seonghwa’s shoulder was now digging into a pillow. More noticeable than that, though, was a crack that seemed too loud in the air around them during the roll. Seonghwa blinked up at him, registering that the crack could have only come from him, and there was a short moment of silence. Hongjoong looked pained.

“… don’t even-”

“Oh my God, was that your back? Your arm? Are you okay?” Seonghwa asked, the words huffed out around giggles that were absolutely impossible to stop.

“Yah,” Hongjoong grumbled. Seonghwa just laughed harder at his disgruntled face, knowing there was no real anger there. The corner’s of Hongjoong’s lips were twitching upwards. A gleam of something wicked flashed across his eyes, and Seonghwa choked on his laughter when one of Hongjoong’s hands slipped beneath his pants and underwear to wrap around his cock. Bare skin on bare skin, Hongjoong’s palm stroked it from base to tip and back, the glide easy with the amount of precum Seonghwa’d already leaked. He gasped, the laughter dying and giving way to stifled moans and hiked hips.

“Oh… please..” Seonghwa panted, clinging to Hongjoong’s shoulders. He didn’t even know what he was asking for. It just felt so good, to finally experience direct contact after so much teasing through his clothes. Hongjoong kept the strokes slow and sweet, dipping his head down to steal Seonghwa’s lips in a kiss. Parting his lips was instinctual, as was the whimper that came from Hongjoong’s tongue dipping into his mouth while his thumb flicked over the reddened head of his cock. He fought the urge to curl in on himself.

“You’re so wet,” Hongjoong marveled. They hovered close, panting into each other’s mouths. Seonghwa’s entire world was zoomed in on Hongjoong’s hand, on Hongjoong’s face centimeters away from his own. When Hongjoong offered him a smile, it was crooked. “Are all young people this easy, or just you?”

Another small giggle escaped Seonghwa, even as his body shuddered under Hongjoong’s ministrations.

“I felt you earlier. I’m not the only easy one,” Seonghwa taunted.

“I have someone that looks like you asking me to fuck him. I had no chance,” Hongjoong bantered. After another swipe at the head, Hongjoong’s hand lowered, palm cupping Seonghwa’s balls and two wet fingers sliding along the bumpy ridges of Seonghwa’s hole. Seonghwa took in a sharp breath, heat flooding his body. He wanted those fingers to sink into him, to stretch him open, to rub against that little spot that would have him seeing stars. They needed lube. Logically, Seonghwa knew that. Still, the thought alone was so desperate that he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his body into the touch, wanting to be closer. A pad of a finger pressed in, just a bit, and there was a deep rumble from Seonghwa’s chest.

“Off. I want them off,” Seonghwa muttered, hastily reaching down to pull at his own pants. Hongjoong retreated, crawling back until he was no longer hovering over Seonghwa. Seonghwa sat up and quickly removed his pants and underwear, tossing them over the side of the bed. He looked up and stilled.

Hongjoong had crawled off the bed and was standing beside it, thumbs tucked inside the waistband of his own pants and underwear. Seonghwa’s gaze was drawn to the V of his hips, to the dark hair of a happy trail, as he pulled the clothes down, and then to Hongjoong’s cock, hard and heavy between his legs as he kicked the pants off his feet. Seonghwa’s mouth salivated.

Fuck, how was he so devastatingly hot? And that cock… it was big, and it was about to be inside him.

Hongjoong had the absolutely audacity to look shy all of a sudden, flitting his eyes away from Seonghwa and leaning down to open the drawer of the nightstand. He produced lube from it, shutting the drawer and clicking the cap open. His free hand lifted in the air, twirling a finger.

“Turn around,” Hongjoong said. It was soft, like a suggestion, but Seonghwa’s body moved as if it were an order. He turned around on his knees, spreading his legs and looking back over his shoulder in anticipation of Hongjoong joining him again. The bed dipped, and Seonghwa leaned in to the familiar touch that hugged him from behind. Kisses played themselves along his shoulder and the back of his neck, until hot breath was against his ear. “You’re even prettier naked.”

Seonghwa bit back a grin. He tilted his head back, encouraging Hongjoong to keep whispering in his ear. Fingers rubbed along his hole again, this time with proper prep, and Seonghwa was counting the seconds in an antsy inner tirade, waiting. Wanting. Craving.

“And you naked, on my bed?” Hongjoong continued, speaking directly into his ear. Seonghwa was a little dizzy from the timber, a little shaky from the suspense. “Fuck, only in my wildest fantasies.”

Husky, hot, right in his ear. Seonghwa let out a shaky breath that melted into a startled moan. A finger slid inside him, twisting, testing, and Seonghwa clenched around it greedily. It dragged along his inner walls with purpose and Seonghwa wasn’t ashamed of the way he rocked back into it.

“S- so me in short shorts a-and me naked on your bed,” Seonghwa sighed, swallowing past a thick throat. “Any other fantasies?”

Maybe it was fishing for compliments. Truly, Seonghwa just needed Hongjoong to keep talking into his ear like that.

“Bending you over in the pool,” Hongjoong confessed. Seonghwa shuddered, his eyes slipping closed. So he was right, then. That first day he’d ventured into the Kim household and used their pool, Hongjoong had been looking at him through the glass doors.

A second finger joined the first, making Seonghwa gasp and jerk. The stretch burned, but Hongjoong’s motions were rhythmic, soothing, and the generous amount of lube was helping his muscles relax. Soft kisses were pressed against and around his ear as tiny apologies. Seonghwa loosened his shoulders and continued rocking back into Hongjoong’s fingers. The back-and-forth motion was erotic, and when the motion grew fast enough to induce tiny squelches in the air around them, Seonghwa’s toes curled in bliss.

“You can touch yourself,” Hongjoong murmured. He tried to growl it into Seonghwa’s ear, but the words were shaky. It was even hotter to know how affected Hongjoong was, and Seonghwa jerkily shook his head.

“Wanna ride this out,” Seonghwa sighed, jaw lax and head lolling forward as he enjoyed the way Hongjoong’s fingers undid him. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Hongjoong groaned. His fingers curled, didn’t go in as deep, as they plunged in and out. The squelching sounds were still fire against Seonghwa’s ears. “Pretty, you want this so badly.”

Seonghwa mewled, pushing his ass back, wanting to feel those fingers go deep again, scissor him open again, get him ready to take Hongjoong’s cock. Instead, those fingers brushed against a little spot inside him that made every nerve ending dance in one bright flash. He gasped, arching his spine at the wave of pleasure that ripped through his body. Hongjoong did it again, and again, and Seonghwa was on the verge of crying from his prostate being massaged, coaxing more precum to spurt pathetically from his cock and dribble down the length of it.

“F-fuck, that’s- ahn- uh- fuck me- fuck me, please,” Seonghwa spoke deliriously. The sensations shooting through his prostate were too overwhelmingly good. He didn’t want them to stop, but he also didn’t want to come without getting properly fucked.

Thankfully, blessedly, the fingers stopped their assault. Seonghwa nearly sank to the mattress, his body still buzzing. Despite begging for a break, his empty hole still clenched, wanting to be filled.

There was movement behind him. The sound of a drawer, the rip of plastic. Weakly, Seonghwa looked over his shoulder to see Hongjoong slipping on a condom. The implication alone had Seonghwa clenching the sheets.

“Come over here,” Hongjoong said. He had climbed on the bed closer to the foot of it. Seonghwa didn’t understand why, but didn’t really care, crawling over and meeting a sudden, electrifying kiss. His hand hovered over Seonghwa’s jaw when the kiss broke. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

Seonghwa nodded and fell to his hands and knees. Hongjoong was behind him in an instant, draping his lower body with a steady warmth. Seonghwa’s breath caught at the feeling of Hongjoong’s cock at his entrance, and then his mouth was falling open in a silent cry as it slowly pushed in.

Fuck.

Maybe two fingers hadn’t been enough… Seonghwa moaned as he was stretched, as he was filled. His fingers clenched the bed sheets. His chest heaved. He was afraid to move.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asked. His voice was strained. Seonghwa’s hands quavered. He took a deep breath in and let it out. He repeated that. “Seonghwa?” He heard his name again, said with more urgency. “I can pull out. We can prep you better-”

“No,” Seonghwa managed. He moved, just barely, the tiniest rock back and forth. It burned, but it was a good burn. He felt so full. “Just give me a second.”

Hongjoong didn’t reply, but he didn’t move. Seonghwa did another tiny rock, hearing Hongjoong mutter something under his breath. His nerve endings on fire, Seonghwa ever so slowly dragged Hongjoong’s cock along his walls until Hongjoong nearly slipped out of him and then pushed him back in. Hongjoong’s voice was louder at that, a strangled curse escaping his mouth. Seonghwa bit his lip and repeated the move one more time, this time rocking back until his ass met Hongjoong’s pelvis.

“You’re going to kill me,” Hongjoong groused, his hands gripping Seonghwa’s hips. Seonghwa wiggled for good measure, dragging another sound from Hongjoong’s chest.

“My name,” Seonghwa said. He fiddled with his hands among the sheets. “I like when you say my name. If you could maybe whisper that in my ear.”

He was sure the flush he felt on his face was wrapping around to the back of his neck, too. He wanted it, but it also felt a bit… intimate, to ask for? Would Hongjoong be unsettled by that?

He heard a soft chuckle. The sound instantly washed away his anxiety.

“I’m unloading my x-rated fantasies on you, and all you want to do is hear my voice say your name,” Hongjoong said. Arms wrapped around him, and Seonghwa allowed them to lift his upper half. He pursed his lips together to muffle a moan as the movement jostled them, moving Hongjoong inside of him. Familiar lips, familiar breath, bared down against his ear. “You’re cute, Seonghwa.”

Oh.

Something fiery and fond hit him like an arrow through the heart. While trying to process it, Hongjoong’s hand pressed against his chest and slid down to his stomach, a finger dipping into his belly button.

“Look how cute you are,” Hongjoong breathed. Seonghwa felt his other hand hovering by the side of his face, felt a finger poke at his cheek to turn his head. His eyes fell on… himself. Them. In a large mirror connected to a dresser. Seonghwa’s eyes widened, abashed as he took in his own naked body, the arm wrapped possessively around his torso, and Hongjoong’s face next to his head. He met Hongjoong’s gaze through the mirror and felt a shiver wrack down his spine. “You’re beautiful, Seonghwa.”

Hongjoong thrust into him, then, making him cry out. The hand splayed on his stomach kept him close as he fucked into him. Seonghwa’s limbs scrambled, one hand clutching at the hand on his stomach and the other reaching behind his head to thread his fingers in Hongjoong’s hair. His knees dug into the bed as his body arched, wave after wave of pleasure hitting him with each jostle. Smacks of skin deafened his ears. It was so much, so sudden, and Seonghwa felt lit up from the inside. The motion of Hongjoong’s hips was relentless, building up something white hot in his groin. It was enough to spill more precum, and Seonghwa felt his eyes grow wet from the stimulation. Their reflection in the mirror grew blurry.

His mouth stayed open but his mind was blissfully blank, only whimpers and moans and mixtures of the two accompanying every thrust. It was Hongjoong grabbing his hair that brought some clarity back to him.

“Your little ponytail,” Hongjoong said, dangerously low and breathless. A tear ran down Seonghwa’s cheek, and he tried to blink away the wetness. He watched through the mirror with half-lidded eyes. Hongjoong’s hand was gripping the back of Seonghwa’s hair like a ponytail holder. “With the loose strands around your face? Fuck, I loved that.”

Seonghwa’s thighs shook. His heart pounded. His winded laughter was drowned out by another moan. Hongjoong’s cock was still pushing into him, still building a fire in his lower stomach.

“Haah, a little cliché to- mm.. to love a ponytail, huh?” Seonghwa bantered. He tightened his hand in Hongjoong’s hair. “You want to- fuck, hold on to it while I go down on you? I’d do it. Un- under your desk at your office.”

It was the threat of an impending orgasm and the thought of Hongjoong in his suit and tie and glasses that forced the lewd words out into the open. There was a stutter in Hongjoong’s thrusts. There were fingers suddenly nudging the plushness of Seonghwa’s lower lip and an intense gaze meeting his through the mirror.

“Show me,” Hongjoong implored, his fingers prodding at the seam of Seonghwa’s lips. With a violent flutter in his chest, Seonghwa closed his mouth around two digits. He hollowed his cheeks and slowly sank down on them, moaning.

With a groan, Hongjoong pressed his forehead to the nape of Seonghwa’s neck. He ripped the fingers out of Seonghwa’s mouth.

“Down,” Hongjoong growled. Seonghwa’s trembling thighs were thankful for the reprieve, as he lowered his body forward, elbows digging into the mattress. Hongjoong followed close behind, forearms dipping beneath Seonghwa’s armpits as he lowered himself onto Seonghwa’s back. The position had Seonghwa pinned to the bed, and when Hongjoong started fucking into him again, Seonghwa almost cried. The angle was so good, was hitting so many spots that made Seonghwa see stars. His leaking cock was being rubbed against the sheets with every roll of Hongjoong’s hips and Seonghwa knew he wasn’t going to last long like this.

“There.. please, please, please, I’m so close,” Seonghwa whined. Hongjoong’s mouth was pressed against Seonghwa’s ear.

“Come for me, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong’s voice rumbled.

Seonghwa felt it overtake him in a blinding rush. A high-pitched whimper punched out of him, his entire body shaking as white ropes of cum shot from the head of his cock and onto the sheets he was still being rubbed against. With his skin prickling and beads of sweat clinging to his forehead, he pressed his cheek into the mattress, breathing erratically, still being jostled as Hongjoong chased his own end. The constant movement of the mattress against his spent cock was becoming too much, and he whined, helplessly trying to wiggle himself up into Hongjoong’s thrusts and away from the sheets. Those thrusts were become erratic, though, and Seonghwa felt Hongjoong press his nose and mouth between his shoulder blades. A heartfelt groan was murmured between them and Hongjoong buried himself deep and stilled, spilling into the condom.

Seonghwa felt his eyelids slip shut. Hongjoong was a solid, too-hot weight on top of him, but he relished in the contact all the same. That weight lifted, and Seonghwa felt a gentle hand on the small of his back before Hongjoong’s cock slowly slid out of him.

“Ah..” Seonghwa couldn’t stop the little gasp at the feeling. He felt the mattress move as Hongjoong climbed off the bed and took advantage of the situation by extending his legs, uncaring, for the moment, that he was still lying in his own mess. Basking in the afterglow, Seonghwa’s eyelids stayed shut even as the mattress moved again. He felt fingers comb through the damp locks on his forehead.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Hongjoong’s voice melted into his content state. Seonghwa gave a shake of his head.

“Mm not,” Seonghwa said, finally opening his eyes. Hongjoong was sitting on the bed next to him, still naked, observing Seonghwa with an affectionate gaze. Seonghwa couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his lips if he’d tried.

“Do you need anything?” Hongjoong asked. Seonghwa hummed, forcing his limp limbs to cooperate as he sat up. Evidence of his orgasm darkened the sheets and clung to his stomach, making his cheeks warm.

“A shower, probably,” Seonghwa chuckled. His gaze danced across Hongjoong’s features, charmed by the way his hair was in a bit of a mess. It made him think of his own hair, and he reached back to grasp the length of it. “Maybe a scrunchie, because I’m really hot now.”

He stuck his tongue out playfully.

“Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have admitted that,” Hongjoong huffed, pursing his lips to hold down an embarrassed smile. Seonghwa chuckled and let go of his hair.

“Are you going to be thinking about me at work now?” Seonghwa purred, leaning closer and lowering his eyelids. Hongjoong’s eyes tracked his face. He looked to be debating on a reply, but Seonghwa leaned forward and pressed their lips together before he could. There was a slight moment of hesitancy before Hongjoong responded to the kiss, and Seonghwa melted into the back-and-forth motions. It wasn’t charged, it wasn’t urgent. It was just warm, languid, and pulse-rocketing all the same. He pulled back with a sigh. “If I take that shower, will you come with me?”

“… you go first. I’m going to put these sheets in the washer,” Hongjoong replied. Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed.

“But you’ll come?” Seonghwa asked. He knew there were still elephants in the room that they needed to discuss, and he also knew of Hongjoong’s avoidant tendencies. He wasn’t going to let him chicken out.

“Just give me a bit,” Hongjoong assured with a smile.

“Okay,” Seonghwa said, still skeptical as he slid off the bed. “I’ve never used this bathroom, you know. I may not be able to figure out the shower.”

Hongjoong’s laughter flowed behind Seonghwa as he walked into the attached bathroom.

“You’ll be fine,” Hongjoong teased.

It was true. The shower was easy to figure out, and the warm spray felt heavenly. Seonghwa gratefully soaped down his body. What was absolutely not fine, however, was the bottle his eyes landed on. Two-in-one shampoo and conditioner?! Blasphemy.

He told Hongjoong so as soon as the man walked into the bathroom.

“You need to take care of yourself better. Look at this house. You obviously have money. Yet you have two-in-one?”

“What is so wrong with two-and-one?”

“Your hair suffers, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa bemoaned.

“You’re ridiculous. It’s all I have, so if you want to wash your hair-”

“I can wait to wash my hair. That stuff isn’t touching my head.”

“The horror. Is my soap fine?”

“It’s acceptable. Turn around. I’ll get your back.”

“I cannot believe a twenty-one-year-old is giving me a lecture and a bath,” Hongjoong groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“I invited you in the shower. Did you think I was going to keep my hands to myself?” Seonghwa asked. He lathered up his hands with soap and ran them over Hongjoong’s back, the shower head pounding into his own back. When finished, he briefly swapped places with Hongjoong so he could rinse it off. It was definitely greedy, the way Seonghwa was taking in everything he could. Hongjoong’s naked body under the water was stirring something up in his lower abdomen again. “Have your shoulders gotten any better?”

“What?”

“A couple nights ago, when you hardly got any sleep. I asked if you wanted a massage, but you turned it down,” Seonghwa explained. His hands found purchase on Hongjoong’s back again, this time with the intention of working the muscles.

“I don’t care for massages. They hurt,” Hongjoong grunted.

“They only hurt because of how tight your muscles are. Bear with me,” Seonghwa ordered, pressing his thumbs in. Hongjoong hissed and squirmed in response, but Seonghwa was determined, kneading along his shoulder blades and spine. Slowly, ultimately, the line of Hongjoong’s shoulders relaxed, and quiet sounds of discomfort became quiet sounds of relief.

“…the water is going to get cold soon,” Hongjoong eventually warned. Seonghwa smiled, massaging just a little while longer. Hongjoong wasn’t stopping it. He was clearly enjoying it now that his muscles were looser. Another little sigh from his mouth had Seonghwa squirming. He’d gotten hard again, with Hongjoong’s skin beneath his fingertips and the little sounds of appreciation. How could he not? He let his hands slide off Hongjoong’s back, wrapping his arms around his torso, instead, and resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Does that feel better?” Seonghwa asked, running his nose along the crook of Hongjoong’s neck.

“It was nice,” Hongjoong sighed. Seonghwa pulled him closer to his front, mouthing at his neck. “Yah. The water needs to get cold.”

Seonghwa smiled against his skin.

“Does it? You’re right here,” Seonghwa replied, running his thumbs along Hongjoong’s stomach.

“Seonghwa. We just had sex. I’m not an Energizer bunny like you,” Hongjoong drawled. His arms draped over Seonghwa’s.

“One more time?” Seonghwa asked in his best begging voice, right in Hongjoong’s ear. He bumped Hongjoong’s arms out of the way and looked down over his shoulder just to see- “… you’re not hard at all.”

It came out equal parts disbelieving and petulant. Hongjoong’s laugh was loud and seemed to echo on the bathroom tiles around them.

“God, you’re cute,” Hongjoong chuckled. He turned as best as he could in Seonghwa’s hold to try to see him. Seonghwa pouted at him. “I’m forty-four years old. You’ll understand when you reach this age.”

Seonghwa understood, alright.

He understood a challenge.

“We can work with this,” Seonghwa remarked. He let go of Hongjoong, reaching back to shut off the shower. Hongjoong turned around in confusion. With his hair dripping down his shoulders and back, Seonghwa got down on his knees. He saw the exact moment Hongjoong understood, his eyes widening.

“You-”

“I’ll get you hard again,” Seonghwa said with a wicked grin. He nuzzled his face against the V of Hongjoong’s abdomen before looking straight up at him. “It’s not under your desk at work, but it’ll do.”

He saw Hongjoong’s Adam’s apple bob, saw the indecision in his eyes.

“… your knees,” Hongjoong protested weakly. It was Seonghwa’s turn to laugh.

“My young body can handle it,” Seonghwa quipped, satisfied when Hongjoong rolled his eyes. He focused on the task at hand, though, wrapping his hands around Hongjoong’s hips and leaving a trail of kisses along the skin. He licked up Hongjoong’s happy trail until he could dip his tongue into his belly button before looking up again.

The pretty blush was back on Hongjoong’s cheeks. His eyes were half-lidded, and he brought a hand up to thread through Seonghwa’s wet locks. Just to rest there. Seonghwa took it as encouragement to go on.

He nosed at Hongjoong’s cock, breathing against it before taking the tip into his mouth. He pressed his tongue against the slit, rubbing it up and down, and heard a sound of appreciation that made him look up again.

“It’s unfair, how gorgeous you are,” Hongjoong groaned. Seonghwa preened at the praise, smiling around the tip before holding Hongjoong’s gaze and swallowing his cock as deep as he could. Hongjoong’s chest inflated as he took a deep breath. His hand pet at Seonghwa’s hair, and Seonghwa kept him there, languidly sliding his tongue against the soft skin while drawing absentminded circles with his fingertips along Hongjoong’s thighs. With a little wiggle, he adjusted his position, wincing just a bit when he moved his knees. He lowered a hand to his own erection, giving it a squeeze and moaning at the feeling. Hongjoong’s hand tightened in his hair at the noise, and Seonghwa could feel him grow heavier on his tongue. Triumphant, Seonghwa held Hongjoong’s cock at the base, bobbing his head to coax him to hardness. “Ah- fuck…”

Another glance up made Seonghwa’s dick twitch. Hongjoong was slightly hunched over, his eyes shut and his face screwed up in pleasure. With a soft slurp, Seonghwa let Hongjoong’s cock fall away from his mouth. It was standing at attention, pink and covered in spit. Seonghwa smoothed his palm over it, smirking up at Hongjoong as he opened his eyes.

“Told you I could get you hard,” Seonghwa goaded.

“You’re a little brat,” Hongjoong accused. Seonghwa chuckled, carefully moving to stand. He felt Hongjoong’s hand wrap around his arm to balance him.

“Aw, are you going to punish me, Daddy?” Seonghwa cooed, wrapping his arms around Hongjoong’s shoulders. Really, he meant it as a joke. They’d been ribbing each other about the age difference, about the ‘dilf’ term, all day. So it spilled out naturally, as part of their banter.

He didn’t expect Hongjoong’s breath to hitch or for his body to freeze the way it did. His pupils dilated as they stared up at Seonghwa, lips parted in wonder. Then, he swallowed and let out a small, shaky laugh.

“That’s… a bit much,” Hongjoong muttered. But Seonghwa had seen his reaction.

“Oh my God. You liked that,” Seonghwa accused, reeling at the thought. Hongjoong’s eyes darted away and he slid open the shower’s glass door.

“No. Let’s dry off,” Hongjoong tried to dismiss, slipping out of Seonghwa’s hold and stepping out onto the towel he’d already laid on the floor. He grabbed at other towels on the rack as Seonghwa had an inner field day.

“You did,” Seonghwa giggled, taking the towel that was passed with a little too much force. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hongjoong groaned, throwing the towel over his head and scrubbing at his hair. Seonghwa continued to snicker as he toweled himself down. He didn’t do it properly, rushing the towel across his skin. He would much rather have his hands all over the man in front of him. The urge was so great that he threw his towel back over the rack, uncaring that it was bunched up and wouldn’t dry properly that way, and then ripped Hongjoong’s towel out of his hands, despite his protests.

The stumble out of the bathroom and back to the bed was a flurry of grasping hands and stolen kisses.

“I just changed these sheets, too,” Hongjoong said, exasperated. Seonghwa laughed and pushed Hongjoong down on the bed.

“Things can be washed,” Seonghwa dismissed. He crawled on the bed, on top of Hongjoong, and pressed their still-damp bodies together, stealing another kiss. Hongjoong hummed into it, tilting his head and deepening it. Seonghwa pressed deeper into him, seeking body heat, his skin splattered with goosebumps after getting out of the shower. He rolled his hips, rubbing their erections together and moaning into Hongjoong’s mouth.

“… I don’t have the energy for you,” Hongjoong sighed, lamentingly, grasping the side of Seonghwa’s face with his hand. Seonghwa leaned into the touch.

“I know you do. I can feel it,” Seonghwa teased with another roll of his hips that made Hongjoong’s eyelids flutter. He leaned in to whisper against his lips, “Please, Daddy?”

There was a puff of air against his mouth.

“Stop,” Hongjoong protested, but it was half-hearted at best. Seonghwa felt a hand slide down his waist and settle on the curve of his hip. “Can you take me again?”

Seonghwa felt his knees go weak at the question. Just thinking about how good Hongjoong had felt inside him when he entered him, when he made him watch them through the mirror, when he pinned Seonghwa against the mattress… there was no world where he didn’t want that again.

“I’ll take you,” Seonghwa purred. He placed his hands on Hongjoong’s chest and used it to push himself up. Spreading his legs wider and arching his back, he grinned down at Hongjoong. “Just like this. You can let me do all the work since you don’t have the energy, old man.”

He could tell Hongjoong was trying to look annoyed, but the way those eyes were roaming over Seonghwa’s body was proving he was getting distracted. Seonghwa basked in the attention.

“Were you always this much of a brat?” Hongjoong settled on. There was definitely no rejection to the idea of Seonghwa riding him, and it only spurred Seonghwa on more.

“Maybe you just bring it out in me,” Seonghwa taunted. “The lube was here, yeah?”

He crawled off Hongjoong to shuffle over to the nightstand.

“Yeah, and the condoms. You’re taking three fingers this time.”

“What? But I’m already stretched now.”

“Then you should easily be able to take three fingers.”

“And you’ll be able to stay hard?” Seonghwa questioned, mirthful. He easily slid back into Hongjoong’s embrace and handed the lube over.

“You’re really pushing it, aren’t you?” Hongjoong muttered. Yet, he held Seonghwa close. He kissed him, eagerly, passionately, with strokes of his tongue and nips of his teeth. Seonghwa welcomed it, burned for it, and moaned into Hongjoong’s mouth when the sensation of wet fingers moving inside him made him quiver.

“I think you like it when I push,” Seonghwa sighed. His body was unconsciously pressing back into Hongjoong’s fingers, wanting more. As predicted, a third finger slid in with little resistance. Seonghwa’s head tilted back at the feeling regardless. Fuck, he loved being stretched open. He wanted more of it.

“I like when you make those pretty sounds,” Hongjoong answered, his breath more labored and his tone darker. Seonghwa loved that voice. He felt himself leak again over that voice. “Gonna keep making those pretty sounds while you ride me?”

The heat that rushed up to Seonghwa’s face made him a little dizzy. He grasped Hongjoong’s shoulders and rolled his hips back a little more frantically before burying one hand in the damp hair on the back of Hongjoong’s head and tugging his head backwards. Hongjoong followed the movement, and Seonghwa hovered over him with a lustful gaze.

“I will. Let me ride you, Daddy,” Seonghwa pleaded.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong groaned. Seonghwa gasped when Hongjoong’s fingers retreated. Overwhelmed with the urge to be filled again, Seonghwa pushed Hongjoong’s back against the mattress and swept a hand behind him until he had Hongjoong’s cock in his palm. He lined himself up- “Wait- condom- hnn..”

Seonghwa sank down on Hongjoong’s cock until he was seated in his lap. The sensation stole the air from his lungs for a moment, and his eyelids slipped shut as his body adjusted to the shock. He focused on breathing again, on letting himself feel every inch of Hongjoong inside of him, before languidly lifting his eyelids.

God, Hongjoong was sexy.

He was lying against the sheets, a red hue spreading up his chest and onto the bridge of his nose, chest steadily pulsating. His bottom lip was trapped under his teeth as he bit down hard, and his eyes were dark and drinking everything Seonghwa had to offer in with veneration.

“Didn’t… grab a condom, because I want to feel you,” Seonghwa spoke. He licked his lips and rotated his hips, lifting up and coming back down in a way that had him whimpering. Hongjoong’s hands brushed the tops of his thighs, kneading the skin encouragingly.

“Whatever you want, gorgeous,” Hongjoong complied, the words rough and labored – the words making Seonghwa feel powerful. Sparks flying all over his skin, Seonghwa grinded down, feeling the way Hongjoong shifted inside him with every motion. He worked on finding a rhythm, lifting himself and slamming back down, punching out little gasps and moans until he found a system he really liked. Chasing that feeling of pleasure, he dug his knees into the bed and urged his hips faster.

“Oh, that’s so good,” Seonghwa whined, throwing his head back.

“You feel incredible,” Hongjoong groaned in response. When Seonghwa looked down at him, Hongjoong had greedy eyes trained on where they were connected. Seonghwa trembled at the rapt attention. He slowed his hips, drunk at the drag of Hongjoong’s cock against his insides, loving the sounds it earned him as Hongjoong bit his lip and squeezed his thighs, until the itch to go harder, to chase that white-hot feeling in his gut, grew too great. He leaned back, finding leverage on Hongjoong’s legs, and bounced. It was messier, uncoordinated. Soft squelching sounds mixed with Hongjoong’s heavy breathing were drowning his ears and Seonghwa felt his thighs burning with the effort. Hongjoong must have noticed the desperate shift in his movements. “You’re doing so good, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa knew he was saying his name like that on purpose. That thought flew out the window, though, when Hongjoong wrapped a hand around Seonghwa’s cock.

“Oh-” Seonghwa cried, stuttering in his movements. That hand moved, up and down, the wet skin sliding so easily with it, and Seonghwa almost sobbed from the onslaught of pleasure. He tried to adjust his thighs, but it was too hard to roll his hips when his entire body was shaking from Hongjoong’s hand on him. “H-hongjoong-”

His throat felt thick around his name.

“I got you,” he heard Hongjoong say. Hongjoong’s legs bent behind him. The hands that were on his thighs grasped his hips. Seonghwa let it happen, let Hongjoong take control, back bowing at the first hard thrust up into him.

“Yes, please, yes,” Seonghwa moaned loudly. His body is jolted with every thrust, skin smacking skin as Hongjoong sets a brutal pace, pistoning up into Seonghwa’s body in a way that makes him see stars. He can feel his orgasm building. Any kind of rhythm Hongjoong was trying to set was gone before it’d even begun, and he knew Hongjoong was close to the edge, too. Even blinded by his own pleasure, he wanted to help bring Hongjoong to that edge. He made eye contact through dilated pupils and fisted his own cock, trying to look as desperate as he could for him. And then he started repeating, babbling, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy-”

There was something animalistic in the way Hongjoong’s gaze sharpened, in the way he grabbed Seonghwa’s hips and yanked him down into every thrust before stuttering and stilling, throwing his head back with a curse. Seonghwa felt him pulse inside and all it took was a few more strokes of his hand before his body shuddered. He came onto Hongjoong’s stomach and instantaneously felt his limbs give out on him. Sinking forward, uncaring of the sweat or the heat, Seonghwa buried his face against the side of Hongjoong’s head and tried to catch his breath.

“… I don’t think I can move,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa smiled and snorted against his hair.

“You didn’t even do much,” Seonghwa replied.

“Bringing you to orgasm, twice, wasn’t much?” Hongjoong asked incredulously. He whispered something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Energizer bunny’, and Seonghwa giggled.

“We can just… stay here for a while,” Seonghwa sighed. The bed, Hongjoong’s body warmth, it was all very cozy.

“I’d normally disagree, but...” Hongjoong trailed off, and Seonghwa felt hands on his hips again. He let out a little gasp, a shiver dancing along his spine when Hongjoong pulled out. They maneuvered, just a little, until Seonghwa’s head was lying on Hongjoong’s chest, and Hongjoong was able to pull a sheet over them both. “I need a break.”

“Old man,” Seonghwa quipped, squealing when Hongjoong pinched his arm.

“Just don’t fall asleep,” Hongjoong warned.

“I won’t,” Seonghwa denied, nuzzling into the warm skin of Hongjoong’s chest. An arm came up and wrapped securely around his waist. He felt his eyelids drooping to the sound of Hongjoong’s fluttering heartbeat, and couldn’t remember the last time he felt so sated and content.

---

Voices.

They were faint, but Seonghwa could hear them. They sounded familiar, but in his foggy state of mind, he couldn’t place them. Awareness seeped back into him like honey, the feeling of sheets against his naked body and a warm, comfortable presence next to him manifesting.

And voices.

Seonghwa blinked his bleary eyes open.

He was greeted with Hongjoong’s handsome, sleeping face. A rush of memories came back to him, making his heart swell.

Oops.

Looks like they had fallen asleep after all.

But… voices?

Unbidden, a disgruntled, confused noise sounded from deep in his throat, and he lifted his head.

The voices abruptly stopped. When Seonghwa found the source of the voices, it took him a moment to understand. Once he did, though, his heart lurched uncomfortably.

Wooyoung and San were standing in the doorway to Hongjoong’s bedroom. San looked like an embarrassed deer caught in headlights and Wooyoung… well, his face was terrifyingly blank, his arms crossed. Seonghwa felt his mouth drop open, and they stayed still in the silence for a moment, staring at each other. He almost, almost, shot out of bed, wanting to tug Wooyoung away to talk with him, but he remembered that he was still very naked, and still very… messy. They’d fallen asleep without cleaning anything up, and now Seonghwa was mortified. Thankfully, the sheet still covered them both.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa weakly called. He sat up, scooting away from Hongjoong. “I- I thought you were coming back on Saturday?”

“It was always Friday,” Wooyoung answered. Still stoic. Seonghwa couldn’t get a read on him at all, and it was kind of freaking Seonghwa out. He nearly jumped when the mattress stirred. The noise had clearly woken Hongjoong up too.

“Wooyoung?” Hongjoong asked. He sat up, looking between Wooyoung and Seonghwa, making sense of it. Finally, a frown made its way to Wooyoung’s face.

“Woo… just give me a second. I’ll put on some clothes and explain everything,” Seonghwa tried, but Wooyoung wasn’t looking at him. He was frowning at Hongjoong.

“My best friend?” Wooyoung asked Hongjoong. Hongjoong’s mind must have finally kicked online, because he groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“Get out,” Hongjoong ordered. That just made Wooyoung’s shoulders rise.

“This is MY house!” Wooyoung exclaimed.

“It’s MY house,” Hongjoong rebutted.

“And that’s MY best friend, who you defiled!” Wooyoung retaliated, pointing an accusing finger at Seonghwa. Seonghwa felt his face grow hot.

“Defiled is going a little far-”

“Why are you even here?” Hongjoong interrupted Seonghwa, looking frustrated as he ran his hand through his hair a second time.

“I told you I was coming back the fourth!” Wooyoung claimed. Hongjoong leaned over to snatch his cell phone from the bedside table, tapping the screen furiously. Finding what he was looking for, he held it up. Wooyoung glared at him and looked a little uncertain about walking any further into the bedroom, but did so anyway, getting close enough to the phone so he could see. “… so I accidentally hit the 5 instead of the 4 when I told you what day I’d be back.” He looked cutely disgruntled, and then launched into another tirade. “I was worried! There are two mugs of untouched hot chocolate downstairs and Seonghwa wasn’t in my room!” Again, Seonghwa’s heart sank. He hadn’t meant to scare Wooyoung. He definitely didn’t want to hurt Wooyoung. “But, clearly, the only thing I need to be worried about is getting into the habit of calling Seonghwa ‘mom’!”

There was a choked sound from the doorway.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened. He intensely scanned Wooyoung, from the tip of his hair to his shoes, trying to read his body language.

He was taken aback, for sure.

He was annoyed, definitely.

But… he didn’t look angry. Not truly.

In fact, there was a glint in his eye that Seonghwa would argue looked… amused?

Hongjoong tossed the cell phone on the bed, pressed his face into his hands, and looked about near ready to scream.

“Out,” Hongjoong repeated, the command muffled.

Wooyoung huffed. His eyes scanned the bed and his upper lip twitched.

“Gross. Straighten up and meet me downstairs. Drive me insane, both of you,” Wooyoung grumbled, the last part muttered. He shut the door on his way out, leaving the room in silence.

Seonghwa sat with a whirlwind of emotions making him dizzy.

“… you can shower,” Hongjoong said. He removed the hands from his face. “You should probably talk with him first.”

“I should?” Seonghwa asked, unsure.

“I’m his dad. That disaster of a kid is stuck with me no matter what,” Hongjoong replied. Seonghwa took a deep breath.

“… he didn’t seem upset. Not really,” Seonghwa hesitantly pointed out. Hongjoong gave the smallest nod, looking a little lost in his thoughts as he stared into nothingness. Anxiety came creeping back into Seonghwa’s mind. He bit at the inside of his lip and tightened his hold on the sheets. “… what about you? Are we okay?”

That snapped Hongjoong out of it. His eyes found Seonghwa’s right away.

“We’re okay,” Hongjoong confirmed, offering a smile that Seonghwa knew was meant to be reassuring. Doubts still plagued Seonghwa. Everything had happened so fast and they didn’t even get to talk and now Wooyoung was there… and it was Seonghwa’s fault. Seonghwa had pushed this. If he’d just kept his silly fantasies to himself instead of unloading them on Hongjoong and tempting him the way he did, they wouldn’t be in this awkward situation now. Yet, still… Seonghwa realized he wouldn’t change anything. There was something about Hongjoong that was absolutely magnetizing… something that extended far beyond the physical aspects.

“I don’t regret it,” Seonghwa said confidently. Hongjoong’s eyes softened.

“I don’t regret it, either,” Hongjoong assured. Seonghwa took another deep breath, his heartbeat loud in his own ears.

“I have another confession. They told me I could move back into my dorm today. I didn’t want to tell you because I wanted more time with you,” Seonghwa said, heat in his cheeks. Hongjoong looked a little lost for words. He put his hands over his face again, but this time, his face looked suspiciously pink.

“Damn it,” Hongjoong cursed into his hands. Then he ripped them away from his face and straightened. “Go take a shower. Talk with Wooyoung. Then we’ll talk about… us.”

Us.

Seonghwa liked the sound of ‘us’.

He smiled, somewhat giddy as he finally got out of bed and started picking up his clothes from the floor. A thought occurred to him that made him pause. He jerked his head to the clock.

“Wait… work?” Seonghwa asked. Hongjoong shook his head.

“I took today off,” Hongjoong responded. Seonghwa’s eyebrows shot upwards.

“What? Did you really? When?” Seonghwa asked, amazed.

“Before we made hot chocolate yesterday,” Hongjoong answered. “Rest in peace to that, by the way. I forgot all about it.”

“I wonder why,” Seonghwa said cheekily. He enjoyed the grin Hongjoong shot him and scampered into the bathroom to take a shower. Of course, it was when he was already wet and sudsed up that he remembered a very crucial thing. “Hongjoong!”

There was a moment before Hongjoong walked into the bathroom.

“Yeah?”

“You need to go get me the shampoo and conditioner from the other bathroom.”

“I am not stepping out of this room unshowered with my son and his boyfriend walking around.”

“But I need it!”

“You will not die using two-in-one once in your life, Seonghwa.”

“You don’t know that! My hair could fall out!”

“Does my hair look like it’s falling out?”

“I don’t know. Are you around the age where you start to go bald?”

“I can take your clothes right now. You realize that, right? You can go talk to Wooyoung naked.”

“No!! Ugh, this is cruel and unusual punishment. You could at least be in here with me as I suffer through this.”

“I’m not showering with you right now.”

“Then at least give me a kiss?” Seonghwa asked. With lathered hair, he cracked the sliding door open and gave Hongjoong a beseeching glance. The look he received was devastatingly fond. He’d use two-in-one again if it made Hongjoong look at him like that.

… maybe.

“You’re ridiculous,” Hongjoong sighed. Yet still, he shortened the distance between them and gave Seonghwa a quick peck on the lips.

“You liiiike me,” Seonghwa spoke in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong said with a grin. Seonghwa felt his heart do somersaults in his chest. “Against my better judgment.”

“Yah-”

Seonghwa jumped when there were sudden frantic knocks on the bedroom door. He slid the shower door until he could peek only an eye out through the crack.

“Dad!” Wooyoung’s voice traveled through the door. “Where is my duck?!”

There was a moment of silence.

“… I don’t know. Where’d you put your duck?” Seonghwa heard Hongjoong call back as he walked out of the bathroom. Seonghwa’s shoulders shook, but he held in his laughter.

There were still many things that needed to be said. That much was obvious. But there, standing in Hongjoong’s shower, with the abomination of two-in-one in his hair and his best friend yelling through the door about a missing duck, Seonghwa couldn’t help but think things were going to be okay.