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the virgin's sob story

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BREAKING: Mark Lee Fails To Produce New Novel On Time

BREAKING: Mark Lee And Kang Daniel Breakup

Is There Correlation Between Mark Lee’s Recent Breakup And His Failure To Publish A New Book?

Mark slams the tabloids down on the kitchen bar, and his head follows. He groans at both the headlines and the pain of the action.

Donghyuck, his best friend for what feels like eons, pats his head softly. “Don’t worry about it too much, Mark. All of this publicity will increase the anticipation for your next novel, whenever you get around to finishing it.”

It’s easy for Donghyuck to say not to worry about it. He’s a successful solo artist who has skillfully avoided the public eye until it’s time to release new music. He’s not Mark; wildly popular erotica novelist with a horrible case of writer’s block, freshly dumped by his now ex-boyfriend Kang Daniel, superstar hockey player, and the nation’s sweetheart.

Mark and Daniel met four years prior, when Mark was twenty and started dating two years after that. They went public about it almost immediately. Mark didn’t really mind the spotlight that came along with being Daniel’s boyfriend. He thought of it as a nice trade-off; his sizeable collection of bookworm followers becoming more interested in hockey, and Daniel’s millions of fans picking up copies of his works, books flying off of the shelves so often that they eventually demanded a reprint.

Given Mark’s line of work, it’s almost comical how issues in their relationship began to arise because of sex—or rather, the lack thereof. Daniel argued that two years was more than enough time for Mark to ready himself, and Mark refused all of his advances.

This time had been particularly hard to refuse; it was their anniversary, Mark’s apartment littered with flower petals and filled with the aroma of the dinner Daniel had prepared for them. The rose petals created a path to Mark’s bedroom, and as soon as he arrived home, Mark had a sinking feeling that he knew what was to be asked of him.

Still, he ate the meal and made conversation with his boyfriend. When Daniel popped the dreaded question, Mark turned him down yet again. He’d thought Daniel would understand like he always did, with a simple nod and an invitation for cuddling as an alternative.

Instead, Daniel blew up on him, asked him why he never put out. Mark could do nothing but stand there, bewildered at the reaction. In the deafening silence, Daniel took his leave, muttering a quick “we’re over” to Mark before slamming the door shut behind him.

They hadn’t broken up in public by any means, but they might as well have. Daniel took to Twitter almost immediately, describing the romantic evening he planned for the both of them, and the entire situation. He aired all the dirty laundry about their two year relationship in a five minute period, to his one and a half million followers.

Mark raises his head from his arms. “Finish it? I haven’t even started it.”

Donghyuck gasps theatrically, like anything else he does. Jisung, Mark’s actual roommate and the other occupant of the kitchen, rolls his eyes.

“You know, you don’t have to come out with a new book every year,” Jisung says.

Jisung is a science fiction author, spinning fascinating tales of otherworldly creatures with ease. He is extremely talented; while three years Mark’s junior and half the amount of books published, he’s more widely recognized for his work. He was even contacted about making his last novel into some kind of big budget movie.

Mark thinks he could have had that too, were he not so fixated on sex. It’s difficult to not be bitter.

“I do though,” Mark whines. “I’ve published at least one new book every year since I turned seventeen.”

Jisung blinks. “And?”

“I’m not an author like you, Jisung. The kind of books I write are the kind that can be completed in less than a year,” Mark says quietly. He’s not wrong; erotica novels are not the kind of projects that require years of tireless revision. The inspiration arrives in short bursts and disappears just as quickly, and enough of those bursts can produce a novel in a matter of months.

“You know what you need, Mark?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark already feels uneasy from the glint in the younger’s eye.

“Do I really want to hear what you have to say?”

“Probably not,” Jisung cuts in. “But I do.”

Donghyuck beams, eyes softening. “Thank you for your support, Jisung. It means the world to me.”

Strangely, Jisung’s cheeks color. Mark opens his mouth to comment, to question, but Donghyuck continues speaking before he can get the words out.

“You should sleep around to get some inspiration!” Donghyuck exclaims, in complete seriousness. Jisung cackles loudly.

“Hyuck...I don’t know about all that,” Mark responds nervously. Mark Lee, currently crippling under waves of self-consciousness, going out and fucking random people? It’s too far fetched for him to wrap his head around.

Donghyuck tips his head to the side quizzically. “Mark, you write about people having sex for a living. What do you mean you ‘don’t know about all that?’” he asks, voice dropping an octave to mock Mark’s voice.

“Donghyuck, that’s not necessary,” Jisung interjects. “I’m sure Daniel taught him some things, he can just call on those memories for inspiration.”

Mark feels his face heat up. “About that—Daniel and I never…” he trails off, letting his friends fill in the gap for themselves.

Donghyuck’s jaw just about hits the floor. “You dated Kang Daniel for two years and you never fucked him?”

Mark shakes his head no, and Donghyuck makes a strangled noise of frustration and disbelief before burying his head in his arms. A beat of silence passes, and Mark hears a muffled gasp. Donghyuck shoots up, pointing an accusing finger in Mark’s chest.

“We’ve known each other since we were five and you never were interested in anyone else. And if you never had sex with Daniel then…”

The words you’re a virgin linger in the air, not spoken, but they don’t need to be. The pieces slide into place for Jisung first, and the youngest of them spits his water out on the table in surprise. Laughing, he doubles over, and Mark would strangle him to death if he didn’t need someone to go half on the rent.

Donghyuck starts laughing too, and Mark kind of wants to die. Despite being friends with him for nearly twenty years, getting laughed at by Donghyuck is never fun, but this is significantly more embarrassing than any other time in the past.

Mark sits on the bar stool watching his two best friends laugh at his expense. His swivels his chair around, eyeing the extensive collection of alcohol on the counter. “I need a shot,” he murmurs, standing up and stretching.

Donghyuck, sobering up, lays a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back down in the chair. “No, you don’t. It’s 11 a.m.”

“All you guys are doing is laughing at me for being a virgin,” Mark whines. “Let me get my drink or get out.”

Jisung adjusts his glasses, which had become askew on his face during his laughing fit. “First of all, I live here. Second of all, we’re not laughing at you for being a virgin. We’re laughing at you because you’re a virgin despite everything that you write.”

“You’re not like,” Donghyuck starts, scratching his head, “a complete virgin, right?”

It takes a few seconds for Mark to wrap his head around the bizarre wording, but once he does, his cheeks tint pink. “No, I am not a complete virgin.”

“Okay, perfect! So this is what you do,” Donghyuck says, slipping back into serious mode. “I’m going to invite you to a party tonight. You are going to go, you are going to blink your big, pretty eyes at every man who looks your way until one of them takes you home, and you’re gonna get laid.”  

Mark just gapes at him. “I wanted it to be special though.”

Donghyuck laughs and grabs a banana before heading in the direction of the door. He slips on his shoes and grabs his keys from the rack near the door. “Silly Mark,” he says, jingling his keys in his hand, “It’s 2018. Nothing is ever special anymore, especially not sex.”

Mark frowns at that, and frowns deeper when he realizes Donghyuck isn’t wrong.

“I have vocal training with Taeil. I’ll call you later,” Donghyuck shouts the last part, already halfway down the hall outside. Jisung follows behind him and closes the door.

Mark flops forward onto the bar. “What do I do?”

Jisung looks bewildered. “What you do,” he replies, walking back into the kitchen, “is you go shopping for party clothes.”

Mark looks up. “You agree with this idea?”

Jisung tilts his head to the side slightly. “You want to publish a book, don’t you?”

When Mark doesn’t answer, Jisung claps his hands excitedly. “Go get dressed!”

And Mark does, foolishly, having no idea what the rest of the night or the next few weeks would entail.

 





Chapter Text

“Here are the rules,” Donghyuck says as he and Mark walk up to Huang Renjun’s front porch.

“Rules?” Mark questions, scratching at his neck. Jisung had dressed Mark in layers, a black bomber jacket on top of a baby blue cropped turtleneck that does great things for both Mark’s complexion and his waist. He’s never worn jeans quite this tight, but his legs are still functioning, so it’s not that terrible. Besides, people are turning their heads to look at him when he walks by.

A small part of him thinks it’s because it’s the first time he’s been in public since Daniel dumped him, but that’s disproven when they pass Donghyuck’s friend Heejin and she blushes when Donghyuck has to remind her to close her mouth.

“Yes. Rules,” Donghyuck confirms. “One, you tell me who you fuck after you fuck them.”

“Why?” Mark asks, eyebrows drawn close.

“Because I am your best friend and we are in this together,” Donghyuck explains. “Also it was my idea.”

“Fair enough. Anything else?” Mark says, the bass from the house beginning to thrum through his veins.

“Just text me if we go somewhere together and you’re leaving with someone else. I’m obligated to take care of you,” Donghyuck says, reaching up to pat Mark on the head.

Mark catches his wrist before he can. “I’m older than you.”

Donghyuck ignores that statement, continuing the trek to the door. Mark notes that this Renjun guy has a big ass piece of property, because they’d parked at the end of the street in his parking garage and are still walking. When they arrive at the front door, Mark’s feet suddenly stop working. He tugs on Donghyuck’s sleeve. “Wait, Hyuck, I don’t think I can do this.”

Donghyuck gently shrugs him off. “It’s just a party, Mark. Besides, Renjun told me there wouldn’t be any paps in here. It’s by invitation only.”

Mark sighs, taking a deep breath. Donghyuck’s right. It’s just a party. He thinks about what his best friend and laughs shortly. “The paparazzi wouldn’t be looking for me, Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck snorts and mutters something Mark can’t hear, then swings the door open. The bass almost makes Mark lose his balance. It’s powerful, disorienting even, but Donghyuck walks right in as if he belongs there. Mark supposes he does.

“Come on, I’m taking you to meet my friends,” Donghyuck exclaims, excited, taking Mark by the hand. He drags him into the house, through the throng of gyrating bodies, until they arrive in the kitchen. There’s a group of four standing around, and they all shout some kind of greeting when the see Donghyuck enter.

He crosses over to them, giving them each a kiss on the cheek, and stays lingering around the one with the pink hair, who for some reason looks oddly familiar. Mark decides to lean against the countertop so he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels.

“Mark, I want you to meet the loves of my life,” Donghyuck shouts over the music. He nods toward the guy with pink hair with his arm around his waist. “This is Na Jaemin, speed skater and Olympic gold medalist.”

Jaemin swats at Donghyuck’s chest. “You don’t have to list my credentials every time you introduce me to someone,” he whines.

So that’s why he looked familiar. The speed skaters sometimes shared arenas with hockey players. Mark bows respectfully at him, and Jaemin returns it.

Donghyuck gestures to the guy next to Jaemin, with lilac hair. “That’s Chenle, my precious dongsaeng and labelmate.”

Donghyuck reaches out to pinch Chenle’s cheek, but the younger swats his hand away. The action reminds Mark of Jisung, and he finds himself smiling.

Donghyuck points to the guy on the far right, short and with dark hair. “That’s Renjun, from my enemy label. This is his party.”

Even though Renjun is slight, he’s extremely intimidating. Mark fights back the urge to cower and bows at him. “Nice property. Your home is beautiful.”

Renjun’s cool expression gets ruined by the genuine smile that splits his face in half. “Thanks, man.”

“That loser clinging onto him is Renjun’s boyfriend Jeno,” Donghyuck says, and Mark laughs a little at his introduction.

“Not famous?” Mark questions. Jeno shakes his head.

“Nope, just the boyfriend,” he responds, not at all bothered by it.

Donghyuck gestures to Mark. “Guys, this is my best friend from way too long, Mark Lee. He’s very popular nowadays.”

Mark cuts his eyes at him, and Donghyuck holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. Jaemin gives Mark a once over, then turns to Donghyuck with a pout on his lips. “I thought you already introduced me to all of your hot ass friends!”

Mark’s cheeks flame, and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “God, Jaemin, you made him blush!” Donghyuck complains. “He’s not going to think about anything else for the rest of the night.”

“Who dressed him?” Chenle asks, looking Mark up and down as well. Were all celebrities this transparent?

“Jisungie did this,” Donghyuck comments offhandedly, but Jaemin nearly coughs up a lung.

Jisung dressed him like that?” he asks.

Donghyuck blows out a breath. “I was as surprised as you are. Baby was so proud of himself.”

There’s definitely something missing, because there isn’t any logical reason that explains why Jaemin and Jisung would know each other, but Mark ignores that. That’s not what he’s at this party for.

Donghyuck scoops something up from a container full of pink liquid and offers it to Mark. “Here. Take this and go mingle.”

Mark chokes on his own tongue. “Me?”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Yes, you. Who else?”

“Don’t be scared,” Renjun says. “They’re all my friends. Completely harmless.”

“People have been staring at you in the few minutes you’ve been in here,” Chenle points out, and his voice carries out into the main room. People immediately stop peeking into the kitchen.

“By the way,” Jeno adds, observant, “They’re not staring at you because you’re on the news, or on cover of tabloids. They’re staring at you because you’re hot as hell.”

Hearing this from someone as handsome as Jeno does wonders for Mark’s self esteem. He takes the drink from Donghyuck’s hand, and murmurs a quiet ‘thank you, it was nice to meet you all’ to Donghyuck’s friends, then makes his way back into the main room.

Mark is approached by women first, as usual, but for the first time, they seem more interested in fucking him now that he’s single instead of searching for a gay best friend. None of them get anywhere, of course, but Mark does exchange numbers with a pretty lesbian named Doyeon.

Somehow, Mark runs into his favorite ballad singer, Kim Doyoung, while he is on his way out. Mark spills his drink on the star's jacket, and hurriedly asks for his number so he can pay for the dry cleaning. Doyoung indulges him, but it's likely it's just because he was in a rush and Mark is persistent. He truly did plan on paying for the dry cleaning, but he can't help wondering if something else could come out of it. 

While all these interactions are happening, there is a handsome man watching Mark’s every move from the side of the room. Mark sits down on the couch after Doyoung leaves, and the man suddenly begins to walk over. Mark takes a sip of his drink, previously untouched, out of nervousness, and his vision momentarily becomes spotty from the amount of alcohol in it. When his vision returns to normal, the handsome guy has taken a seat next to Mark on the couch.

“You seem very popular,” Mark comments, taking in the many pairs of eyes that had followed him over to the couch. This guy seems to be a big deal.

“I guess you could say I’m pretty popular,” the man smiles, and it’s extremely charming.

Mark turns his torso to face the other. “And why is that?”

“You don’t know who I am?” the stranger asks. A slow smile spreads across his face when Mark shakes his head no. He extends his hand to shake.

“Jung Jaehyun, from Blue Beat,” the stranger, Jaehyun, introduces himself, and suddenly Mark wants to melt into the floor. How could he not recognize the face of the nation’s boy group?

“God,” Mark whines, face burning. He inclines his head in a makeshift bow. “I’m so sorry.”

Jaehyun laughs, eyes crinkling. “It’s no problem. It’s kind of refreshing actually.”

“I’m Mark,” Mark says, trying to create conversation and not make a complete ass of himself.

“I know who you are,” Jaehyun replies, waving his hand. “I’d be crazy not to. You’re all over the news.”

Mark winces. Jaehyun seems to notice, and his eyes turn soft. “Sorry, you’re probably here to forget about him.”

“Something like that,” Mark muses, then swallows a large gulp of his drink. His nose scrunches up. God, what do they put in this shit?

Apparently Mark said that last part aloud, because Jaehyun laughs again. He takes a moderate sip of his own drink. “Renjun’s pretty generous when putting alcohol in his drinks. Have you ever been to one of his parties before?”

Mark shakes his head. “I’m only here because Donghyuck dragged me here.”

He decides to omit the fact that he was actually on a dick hunt, fearing it would scare Jaehyun away. Jaehyun’s eyes widen when Mark finishes talking.

“Lee Donghyuck? Haechan? The indie singer?” Jaehyun asks, looking considerably less starstruck than others do when they find out who Mark’s best friend.

“The very one. We’ve been best friends since forever,” Mark explains.

Jaehyun whistles. “Wow. Can you introduce me sometime?”

Donghyuck’s beautiful, and Mark knows it well. He snorts, used to this kind of request. “Why? You interested?”

Jaehyun gives Mark a strange look. “Just in singing a song with him. He’s too young for me,” he says, then he leans close, like he’s telling Mark a secret about his own best friend. “I think he’s got something going on with that speed skater anyway. Na Jaemin, I think.”

Mark’s eyes widen a little. He hadn’t known that. “Holy shit, really?”

Jaehyun sips, then puts his index finger over his lips in a ‘hush’ motion. “You can’t tell anyone I told you. It’s just a suspicion anyway.”

Mark nods earnestly. He leans back against the couch lazily. “Got any other top secret musician suspicions worth my time?”

“That might take a while,” Jaehyun says, grin tugging at his lips. “How about we get out of here and I tell you all I know?”

Mark blinks. Is it really that easy?

He nods, standing up and stretching, smiling a little when he notices Jaehyun’s eyes trained on the tiny strip of stomach he’s showing. Jaehyun stands up too, and Mark gulps when he takes in Jaehyun’s full stature.

He’s taller and broader than Mark, not a significant amount, but enough to be noticeable, enough to make Mark feel a thrum of excitement pass through him, completely unrelated to the bass this time. He loves to feel tiny. It was part of Daniel’s appeal.

Mark frowns, annoyed with himself for thinking about him when he’s with large, handsome Jaehyun. The idol doesn’t seem to notice, securing a hand around Mark’s waist.

Jaehyun leans down and whispers into Mark’s ear. “I know somewhere we can go, come on.”

Mark shivers, and lets Jaehyun lead him out of the main room. On the way out, he catches Donghyuck’s eye, and his best friend’s mouth drops open in shock. Mark smiles at him, and Donghyuck returns it, shooting him an encouraging thumbs up before going back to his conversation with the person who’s lap he was sitting on, who just so happens to be Na Jaemin. Maybe Jaehyun had been onto something.

They take the elevator (elevator!) in Renjun’s house up to the fifth floor, which seems to be nothing but empty penthouses. Jaehyun drags Mark into a room and shuts and locks the door behind them. Mark swallows, shrugging off his jacket.

Jaehyun takes a seat in one of the armchairs, and motions for Mark to sit next to him. Mark, a little drunk and a lot bold, opts to situate himself into Jaehyun’s lap instead, legs hanging over the other side of the chair. He throws his weight backwards, and Jaehyun has to catch him before he topples to the floor. The elder rights him, and Mark starts giggling quietly. Eventually, Jaehyun joins in, though much louder.

Jaehyun squeezes Mark’s waist to get his attention. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Mark pets at his chest coyly. “Oh, of course. Do tell.”

The idol leans in close, lips brushing against the shell of Mark’s ear. “I don’t have any other suspicions. I just wanted to get you alone.”

Mark feigns surprise, batting Jaehyun’s biceps in mock offense. “Scoundrel!”

Jaehyun tosses his head back in laughter. “Who the hell even uses words like that?”

“I’m an author, Jung Jaehyun. I do,” Mark says, pouting slightly.

“Oooh,” Jaehyun laughs. “Bringing out the full name is a bold move from someone who didn’t even recognize me fifteen minutes ago.”

Mark pffts. “I’m not into idol shit,” he says.

Jaehyun pulls back to look at him carefully. “What are you into? Besides writing, I mean.”

Mark hadn’t been expecting such a genuine question. “Um,” he says intelligently.

The smile that Jaehyun mocks him with is stupidly radiant. “Take your time.”

“Shut up,” Mark hisses, sending an elbow into his chest. “The human body?”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at him. “I thought that was a given.”

Mark’s cheeks color for the nth time that night, and he waves his hands in front of him. “No, not like that. I mean anatomy and physiology. I wanted to be a doctor a while back. Even got my bachelor’s in biology two years ago.”

“Hadn’t you already been a published author by then?” Jaehyun asks. Mark vaguely wonders how he knows that.

“Yeah. Even applied for medical school, got a 520 on my MCAT, but didn’t get in anywhere. My name was too dirty to have on their rosters, apparently,” Mark says this last part quietly, but it doesn’t matter, because Jaehyun hears him clearly.

“A published, award winning author with a degree in a science. You are full of surprises, Mark Lee,” Jaehyun says, and Mark is not expecting how gentle it sounds. Dissatisfied with how down the conversation has become, he turns to eye Jaehyun.

“What about you, superstar? What are your passions?” Mark asks. He’s half expecting some kind of stupid flirtation, but once again, Jaehyun is genuine.

“I like to cook,” Jaehyun says. “I’m the leader and eldest of Blue Beat, so I feel obligated to take care of the younger ones.”

Mark isn’t really shocked by the fact that Jaehyun is so attentive to the needs of younger ones, so much so that he turns to Jaehyun in all seriousness, batting his eyelashes and says, “How would you feel about taking care of me?”

It’s inappropriate, considering the fact that they were just having an authentic, person-to-person conversation, but Mark knows he’s been shifting in Jaehyun’s lap quite a lot and he can feel what Jaehyun wants pressing into his backside.

Jaehyun gives him a long, searching look, then crushes their lips together.

It’s open mouthed from the jump, the both of them too needy to pretend that this wasn’t what they were both after all along. For all the years Mark never put out, he’s become an extremely good kisser, and he knows it. He cups Jaehyun’s face, tongue mapping out every inch of the elder’s mouth. Unable to take it anymore, Jaehyun hoists Mark into his arms and carries him over to the bed.

Mark’s heart leaps into his throat when Jaehyun plucks him off of his lap like he weighs nothing. He deposits Mark onto the bed and crawls between Mark’s legs, which he hadn’t even bothered to close.

Jaehyun breaks away from him for a moment, to take off his shoes, and Mark does the same. Jaehyun does away with his own shirt while he’s up, and Mark watches in unfiltered glee as the band t-shirt the elder had been wearing gives away to pale, unblemished skin and rippling muscles.

Mark pulls Jaehyun down to kiss him again. He groans into Mark’s mouth quietly when the younger drags blunt nails down his back. Jaehyun presses a kiss to Mark’s neck, but it gets lost in the thick fabric of his turtleneck. Annoyed, he runs his hands down Mark’s sides, searching for the hem of his shirt. His fingers dance there a for a few seconds before he pulls the item over Mark’s head, mussing his hair.

Jaehyun can properly kiss Mark’s neck the next time he tries, and it feels like the temperature in the room rises a few degrees. Hands finding their way back to Mark’s sides and mouth still attached to Mark’s neck, Jaehyun murmurs, “Your waist is so small.”

Mark squeaks at the feeling of Jaehyun’s lips against his Adam’s apple. “Thank you,” he manages to get out. Jaehyun looks at him, lips wet.

“No marks?” Jaehyun offers, hand undoing the button on Mark’s jeans, and Mark knows it’s not really an offer. Jaehyun is an idol, he can’t afford to show up to his next schedule with hickeys all over him. Mark knows his pale skin would take to the markings beautifully, and he can’t help but be a tiny bit disappointed.

“No marks,” Mark agrees. Jaehyun gets Mark’s jeans off with much difficulty, and sucks in a sharp breath at his choice of underwear, which just so happens to be none. He’s ridiculously hard already, but he can’t really be that embarrassed when the look Jaehyun is giving him is something akin to a starving man seeing food for the first time in years.

“How do you want to do this?” Mark asks, but Jaehyun’s already moving down the bed, taking Mark’s dick in his hand.

“I’m going to blow you, then I want you to fuck me. Is that okay?” Jaehyun asks, and Mark’s heart almost falls out of his ass. He nods quickly, and Jaehyun smiles at his eagerness.

“Perfect,” Jaehyun says, before sucking the head into his mouth. Mark dies and goes to heaven.

He’s never gotten a blowjob before, and Jaehyun seems like he’s given quite a few, based on the technique he’s using. He’s swallowing around Mark every time he slides down the length, fist twisting around what his lips can’t quite reach. Mark has half a mind to keep his hips still so Jaehyun can do his work, but any sanity he has left flies out of the fucking window when Jaehyun grabs Mark’s hands and guides them into his hair.

There’s something extremely hot about controlling Jaehyun like this, and Jaehyun just taking it when he could easily overpower Mark. He seems to like sucking dick, if the sloppy, wet sounds he’s making are any indicator. Jaehyun starts rubbing circles into the skin to the left of Mark’s hipbone, and the younger’s hips buck, suddenly much closer to an orgasm than he was before.

Jaehyun pulls away, satisfied with how hard Mark’s dick is. He lays back, shucking off his jeans at what seems like the speed of light. He spreads his legs, and Mark doesn’t know what he’s done in his life to deserve such a view. Jaehyun’s long arms reach back to free a packet of lube from the pocket of his jeans while Mark discovers a box of condoms in the bedside table.

Mark raises an eyebrow at him. “Was this something you were expecting?”

“Sex? Yeah,” Jaehyun nods. “With you? No.”

Mark runs on autopilot from here on out. He knows what to do, but he hasn’t done it to anyone other than himself. He’s generous is the lube application, and he prepares Jaehyun in a way that the elder would call maddeningly slow. He’s thorough though, fucking him with his fingers until Jaehyun is borderline sobbing and rolling his hips down, pleading for Mark to do something, anything. It’s immensely satisfying to have Jaehyun look at him with tears in his eyes, bottom lip trembling in pure need.

Jaehyun gasps when Mark pushes into him, knuckles going white from how hard he’s gripping the sheets. Mark can tell it’s been a long time since Jaehyun has bottomed, maybe even since he’s had sex at all, so he leans down and kisses Jaehyun until he relaxes.

Jaehyun is insatiable once he’s comfortable. His hands are everywhere; stroking his dick, playing with his nipples, holding onto Mark’s shoulders, but they don’t linger on any one place for long. He’s drowning in the feeling of feeling full after so long, and Mark has such a nice dick and he knows how to use it.

Mark is enthralled by the way Jaehyun’s hole sucks him in, but even that view cannot compare to the look on Jaehyun’s face as Mark pounds into him. The strokes are hard, deep, the slapping sounds echoing in the room adding to the enjoyment of the act.

Mark vaguely recalls that Jaehyun is a vocalist, but there isn’t any information in the world that could have prepared Mark for the sounds Jaehyun’s making. His moans are like honey to Mark’s ears, and they only make Mark want to fuck him harder, better, anything to make him sound like that. After a particularly hard thrust, Jaehyun lets out what can only be categorized as a squeak, and Mark’s hips still for a fraction of a second before resuming, aiming for that exact spot.

He seems to find it with little difficulty, because the stream of sounds in constant now. Jaehyun whines, one hand desperately clutching at Mark’s forearm while the other jerks himself off, and it’s not much longer before he comes. His body shudders, hole clenching and unclenching around Mark.

The image Jaehyun has given him along with the pressure around his dick makes Mark fuck into him harder, bed rocking dangerously. Jaehyun’s writhing around on the bed, trying to escape the oversensitivity. The thought that Mark, virgin Mark Lee, drove Jung Jaehyun to this point, chest heaving, tears brimming, is enough to have him collapse on top of Jaehyun and come right into the condom.

Jaehyun pets his hair softly before telling Mark they should get back to the party. Mark nods, pulling out and tying the condom, and he puts in the trash can in the bathroom.

They get dressed in comfortable silence. It isn’t until Jaehyun secures his dog tags around his neck that he asks, “You do that often?”

Mark looks up from wiggling his jeans up his legs. He blushes a little bit. “That was my first time actually.”

Jaehyun sits in a chair and watches Mark get dressed. “First one night stand?” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m honored.”

“Uh, no,” Mark says, but his response is muffled by his shirt, which has gotten stuck around his arms. He struggles for a second while Jaehyun watches on with a bemused smile. When he finally gets the damn thing over his head, he continues speaking. “First time having sex, actually.”

Jaehyun’s jaw hits the floor. “You’re fucking joking.”

Mark shakes his head, pulling his shoes back onto his feet. “I’m not.”

“I could have been less of a whore if I knew it was your first time,” Jaehyun whines, covering his face with his hands. Mark laughs at him.

“You were perfect, Jaehyun, don’t worry about it. I loved it,” Mark tells him, and for some reason, it’s this praise that makes him blush most, despite everything they’d done.

"For what it's worth," Jaehyun says, handing Mark back his jacket, "It definitely didn't feel like a first time."

They exchange numbers as a courtesy, but they both know they won’t be contacting each other other after they leave this room. Jaehyun leaves first, and Mark sinks down into a couch.

Donghyuck said sex wasn’t special, but Mark just lost his virginity to Jung Jaehyun, the star of the nation’s favorite idol group, and that sounds pretty damn special to him.

 

 

Chapter Text

Mark still doesn’t have any inspiration after his night with Jaehyun, and neither Jisung nor Donghyuck gets to hear the end of it. Mark whines for about three days before Donghyuck finally snaps at him and tells him to tag along to his recording session.

“Since you need inspiration so damn bad,” Donghyuck says, throwing back Mark’s covers at 9:30 AM on the fourth day AJ (After Jaehyun).

Mark’s not really that much of a morning person, so he grumbles the entire way through getting ready. He makes himself presentable though, because Daniel’s still got Mark’s name all in his mouth and there’s a camera pointed at him everywhere he goes.

They arrive at Donghyuck’s company building, and there are two men sitting in the lobby, both of them on their phones. They both raise their heads when they hear the door open, and Mark’s footsteps falter.

They’re handsome, the both of them. Mark leans in close so only Donghyuck can hear him. “You didn’t tell me your vocal trainer was hot,” he says, not knowing who is who.

Donghyuck scrunches up his nose. “God, Mark, are you really that desperate? He’s like, in his forties.”

Mark smiles. “Even better.”

Donghyuck sticks his finger in his mouth and fakes a gag. Mark ignores him, taking in Donghyuck’s co-workers once again. The taller one is dark haired, broad shouldered and thick with muscles, undeniably Mark’s ideal type. He’s unfairly handsome, with a structured face and full lips, and Mark has a difficult time drawing his eyes away.

The shorter of the two has a face that is handsome in a classic, 1940s romance film kind of way, but more modern. The sharp angles of his face are highlighted by his sleek black undercut. He’s wearing a too big sweater, and he looks gentle. Mark is taller than him by a little, but for some reason, he’s enjoying the height difference a little bit. There is something about him that feels familiar, but Mark can’t quite put his finger on it.

“You’re late,” Big Sweater bites out at Donghyuck when they come to a stop in front of the two of them. Mark’s heart stops at the sound, completely not expecting the sharp tone.

Big Muscles lets out a hearty laugh, shoving Big Sweater’s shoulder. “Go easy on him, Taeil. He pays your bills.”

Taeil, Mark echoes in his mind, filing it away for later.

Taeil didn’t seem to like the taller’s statement very much and pins him with a withering gaze. Mark shifts his weight between his feet.

Donghyuck offers a sheepish smile to the both of them, one that literally no person on the face of the earth can stay angry with. “Sorry, hyung. I had to go get this one,” he explains, jabbing his thumb in Mark’s direction. Mark heats up at the two new pairs of eyes giving him a once over.

“And who is this one?” Taeil asks, no longer sounding harsh.

“My best friend, Mark. Said he needed some inspiration for his new novel.”

Big Muscles extends his hand for Mark to shake, and Mark is in awe of how the other’s hand pretty much swallows up his own. “Mark, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Yukhei, Haechan’s social media manager.”

Mark goes cold at that. Yukhei has to know who he is if he’s constantly on social media.

“Hope you find that inspiration you’re looking for. There’s definitely some potential in Haechan’s new single,” he says. Donghyuck raises an eyebrow at him.

“Have you looked at your lyric sheet yet?” Yukhei asks, and Donghyuck shakes his head. “You’ll see. Anyway, don’t post anything until around 3-ish. The teaser pictures have to go first so you don’t fuck up your instagram.”

Donghyuck nods in understanding, and Yukhei gives a short wave before disappearing around the corner. “Bye, Mark! It was nice meeting you!”

That leaves them alone with Taeil, who leads them to the elevator. “Minho booked the studio for five hours, and we have three songs to get through. Sorry about that.”

Donghyuck waves him off, patting his own throat gently. “You said yourself I have golden pipes. It shouldn’t take that many takes.”

“I should have never told you that,” Taeil murmurs. “You’re too cocky.”

“For good reason,” Donghyuck replies. “It’s not like I’m untalented!”

Taeil turns his gaze on Mark, who had been quiet the entire time. “Is he always like this?”

Mark allows himself a small smile. “Cocky, overconfident, insufferable? Absolutely.”

“Overconfident!” Donghyuck echoes in mock rage. “I am reasonably confident.”

They get to the recording studio, and Taeil guides Donghyuck through vocal warm ups. They sound nice together, unintentionally harmonizing. The pretty sound gets ruined, however, when Donghyuck gets ahold of his lyric sheet and starts howling with laughter in the middle of his lip trills.

“What? What is it?” Taeil asks.

Donghyuck, face red from his laughter, passes the folded sheet off to Mark. He unfolds it, then turns the paper right side up so he can read it properly.

Drippin’, the title reads.

Mark must pull some kind of face because Donghyuck waves his hand at him. “Keep going.”

It’s too late to run away
You started this game first
Can you hear me can you see me
You excite me
I’ll go inside, I’ll start
When you least expect it

Mark blinks.

Tab tab without hesitation or prior notice
You take down and shake the borderline
I will pass, pass by
With every drip
I will soak into you
Soaked without you noticing

Mark can feel his face turning redder by the second. He hands Donghyuck the sheet back. “You’re singing that?”

Donghyuck ignores him, giving the sheet another once over. “God,” he giggles. “Yukhei is so funny.”

“Get in the studio, Haechan. We don’t have that much time,” Taeil orders. Donghyuck obeys, shuffling past the glass and putting the headphones over his ears. Mark pulls out his laptop.

Right after Taeil presses play on the demo track, he whirls around, eyes on Mark. Mark freezes for a split second, suddenly nervous. Taeil points his finger at him.

“You. No photos, no videos, no recording. Nothing you hear in this studio leaves this studio. Got it?” he asks, and Mark feels like he’s being scolded.

“Yes sir,” Mark says, hating himself for the way his voice shakes. Taeil’s eyes widen a fraction, then he turns back to face Donghyuck.

Yes sir? Mark wants to die.

Donghyuck seems off his game today. He’s not getting the inflection of the syllables right, or there’s no passion in his singing. Mark abandons his own work, watching Donghyuck become less and less confident as time passes.

Taeil presses the stop button on the panel, frustrated. “Don’t you fucking have someone to think about when you’re singing something like this?”

Donghyuck takes his headphones off, biting his lip nervously. “No?”

“Who’s that kid always coming around here?” Taeil questions, and Mark perks up. “Jisung? You seem pretty comfortable with him.”

Mark’s jaw hits the ground, and Donghyuck must see it because he comes barreling out of the studio with red cheeks. “Jisung and I aren’t like that,” Donghyuck explains, looking flustered as all hell.

Taeil squints at him. “What about that other one? With the pink hair and long body?”

“Jaemin?” Donghyuck chokes out. “He’s just a—”

“If you say ‘friend’ I’m going to kick your ass out of this studio,” Taeil warns. “Get one of them in your head, and sing this damn song.”

Donghyuck shoots Mark a look, one that says that they will talk later, but Mark doesn’t see it. He’s retreated into his own mind. Seeing Taeil so frustrated, so strict finally made Mark realize why exactly Taeil seemed so familiar in the first place and oh — this is not good.

Mark abruptly stands up, walking out into the hallway in hopes of finding the bathroom. It takes a few minutes, but he locates it and throws himself inside. He leans against the counter hopelessly.

Back in the beginning of his career, in his second ever published book, Mark had written about someone like Taeil.

The protagonist of Follow My Lead, Choi Seungcheol, had been a graduate student working towards his master’s in anthropology while teaching a course at the local university.  While there, he engages in an intense flirtmance with a music theory professor, Lee Jihoon, who was much smaller in stature.

As one of Mark’s first publications, most of the book is more sexual tension than actual sex. However, all of that culminates in the final scene of the book, where Jihoon pretty much destroys Seungcheol and makes him ache for days. It was the first book of Mark’s to garner a lot of attention, and he practically owes that book his career.

Now, he curses that book, because he’s thinking about himself as Seungcheol and Taeil as Jihoon and he’s made himself embarrassingly hard. Mark palms himself over his jeans, which turns out to be a mistake because he mewls quietly. He unbuttons his jeans, reaching down to stroke himself roughly, eyes falling shut.

Mark probably should not be masturbating in the sixth floor bathroom of SM Entertainment. He should go back in the studio, needs to go back out there, but there’s only one way to make his dick go down and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Taeil. And besides, Donghyuck would never let him live it down.

Mark doesn’t get the opportunity to even leave, because there is a breeze behind him, and the clearing of a throat a few seconds later. Mark’s eyes snap open, and dear god Taeil is standing there, watching with furrowed eyebrows as Mark jerks himself off.

Mark halts his motion, and Taeil leans back against the door. “You’ve been in here for forty five minutes. I thought I’d check on you, see if you were okay.”

Mark just stares at him in the mirror.

“You seem to be fine, so I’m just going to go,” Taeil says, and Mark whimpers quietly.

“No,” he whines, sounding pathetic to his own ears. “Please don’t go.”

“Mark,” Taeil tries with his authoritative voice, but it does nothing but send sparks of electricity shooting down Mark’s spine.

“Do something,” Mark pleads, desperate. “Anything.”

This is extremely bold on Mark’s part, but he knows it’s going to work. Any other normal person would have done a 180 as soon as he saw what was going on, but Taeil stayed. He stayed, walked inside, engaged in conversation, and was completely indiscreet about the way his eyes lingered on Mark’s ass. Mark is going to get what he wants.

Taeil comes up behind Mark and presses his front up against Mark’s back. “Haechan went out for lunch,” he says, voice quiet in the room but loud against Mark’s ear. “Can I fuck you over the sink before he comes back?”

Mark has never heard sweeter words.  “Please,” he begs.

He lets Taeil take his jacket off before using his size to his advantage. Mark pushes the elder up against the sink before falling down to his knees.

“Can I blow you?” Mark asks, blinking up at Taeil with innocent eyes.

Taeil swallows. “Yeah.”

Mark unbuckles Taeil’s pants and pulls them down until they pool around his ankles, briefs going along with them. The only dick Mark’s ever held in his life is his own, and he’s really liking the look of Taeil’s. He grips his half hard dick, frowning slightly. He looks up at Taeil again.

“I’ve never had a cock in my mouth before. Can you teach me?”

Technically, there was that time where Mark was fucking around and ended up with the tip of his own dick between his lips, but that doesn’t really count. No one needs to know about that either.

Taeil’s knees shake at the words. “Fuck, how do you manage to look so innocent while saying shit like that?”

Mark smiles at him. “It’s part of my charm, apparently. Looking like naive and impressionable. Malleable.”

He gives an experimental lick to the underside vein, and Taeil groans quietly. “I don’t even know what that last word means.”

“It means,” Mark pauses, tonguing the slit, “easily influenced.”

“Are you done giving me a vocabulary lesson?” Taeil asks, chest heaving. “We don’t have much time.”

Mark ignores his warning. He sucks on the head gently, careful to sheath his teeth behind his lips. “Donghyuck said you were in your forties. Is that true?”

Taeil looks at him in bewilderment, hands threading themselves in Mark’s hair. “You seem quite proficient in this. Do you even need lessons?”

Mark leans back, releasing him from his mouth with a small pop. “Not really. I’ve never done it though.”

“Here’s a tip,” Taeil says, instructor voice making a reappearance out of nowhere. Mark’s muscles lock up in anticipation. Taeil nonchalantly checks his fingernails. “Try talking a little less when you’re sucking someone off.”

Mark’s cheeks color in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t say sorry, just suck,” Taeil orders, and Mark cannot find it in himself to do anything but obey. He opens his mouth and guides Taeil’s dick back in. It’s admittedly very sloppy, because Mark is far too enamored by the feeling of dick in his mouth to worry about not making a mess. The weight of it on his tongue is pleasant, and in the back of Mark’s brain, where there is still cognitive process, Mark acknowledges that he really likes this.

Taeil doesn’t seem to mind the excess saliva, outright moaning at how wet it sounds. He stays put while Mark goes to work on him, recalling and copying what Jaehyun had done to him.

“Suck harder,” Taeil requests, and Mark furrows his eyebrows in confusion. He’s written that before, but it’s much different in practice. He has absolutely no idea what the fuck that means.

“Hollow your cheeks, baby,” Taeil says sweetly, guiding, and Mark’s skin pricks at the pet name. He does as asks, and is more than a little pleased when Taeil’s knuckles tighten on the counter. He keeps his cheeks that way, own hand reaching back down for him to rut against.

Mark seems to become very good at what Taeil likes. “Just like that,” the elder moans, and it’s so pretty that Mark almost stops blowing him. He wants to make him sound like that again.

He shifts his hands to grab Taeil’s hips, and he jumps back like he’s been shocked. He pulls Mark off of him.

“Okay, that’s...that’s enough,” he breathes. Mark just grins at him.

The grin drops from his face when Taeil hauls Mark up by his arm and bends him over the counter. He’s hard against the small of Mark’s back, and still a little wet, and Mark is incredibly proud of himself.  The elder pauses.

“What is it?” Mark asks. “Having second thoughts about fucking me?” he taunts, knowing Taeil would never. He pushes his ass out farther.

“We don’t have any lube,” Taeil murmurs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You don’t have any lube,” Mark says, emphasizing the ‘you,’ “Reach into my jacket pocket.”

Taeil does, and lo and behold, there is a condom and a packet of lube. Flavorless, scentless, but will still do its job. Taeil looks at him incredulously.

Mark shrugs at him. “I’m gay and newly single. Seem like necessities.”

Taeil doesn’t question it. He rips the packet open, spreading some of the substance over his fingers. He’s foolishly gentle while pushing the finger past Mark’s rim, and Mark sighs in contentment.

Mark has bottomed before, just never for a person. He blows out a breath, hair fanning against his forehead. “You can go faster, Taeil. You aren’t going to break me.”

“Do you always talk this fucking much?” Taeil asks him, adding another finger before curling them upwards. Mark’s body jerks, and he moans brokenly in lieu of an answer.

“Come on, Taeil, just fuck me,” Mark pleads, fucking back against the digits. “We haven’t got much time,” he says, parroting Taeil’s own words from earlier. Taeil narrows his eyes at him.

Taeil rolls the condom on and applies the rest of the lube onto himself. “I’m not going to ‘just fuck you,’ Taeil says. “You were so tight when I was fucking you with my fingers.”

Mark’s embarrassed. Instead of showing it, he asks coyly, “Did you like it?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Taeil wonders. He presses the tip against Mark’s hole, then pushes inside.

The first word that registers in Mark’s mind is thick. Sure, he’d spent a few good minutes with Taeil’s dick between his lips, but the girth was unexpected. Not unwelcome, because Mark lives to be stretched, but unexpected.

Taeil just sits there for a minute, letting Mark adjust to his size while looking extremely smug. He waits until the faraway look on Mark’s face fades away, the grinds his hips into Mark’s slowly, and the younger chokes on a gasp.

Taeil continues the motion, slow, infuriating, but Mark’s loving it. The grip he has on Mark is bruising. He runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of his hip appreciatively. “So tiny,” Taeil murmurs.

Mark’s cheeks flame and he whimpers. As soon as the sound comes out of his mouth, his phone, still on the counter, vibrates loudly. Mark checks it, and promptly decides he has the worst luck in the world.

“He’s on his way back,” Mark tells Taeil. “I’d suggest that you just fuck me now.”

To his shock, Taeil delivers a measured thrust, and Mark is forced to swallow his own moan. Taeil keeps fucking him like that, and heat crawls up Mark’s body and makes him dizzy.

“You wanted to be fucked this bad?” Taeil asks, pounding into him now.

“Yes,” Mark gasps, lightheaded. “More. Please.”

Taeil releases Mark’s hips, opting to pull Mark’s arms behind him. He threads one forearm through the space between Mark’s arms and his back, forcing Mark to rely on him to stay upright. This first deliberate display of power is doing something dangerous to Mark, and his stomach twists. If that weren’t enough, Taeil reaches his other arm around Mark to stroke him.

Taeil cannot keep up his previous pace, but Mark’s now stimulated in two places so he doesn’t really mind that much. Taeil’s thrusts are hard and calculated, echoing loudly in the marble of the restroom.

It feels odd to have his head droop down, so Mark looks up, and is greeted by his own image in the mirror. His hair looks fucking crazy, chest blotchy, but what turns Mark on the most is what he can’t see. Taeil has completely disappeared behind Mark’s shoulder, and the fact that Mark is completely covering the same man that’s doing such a number on him is hot as hell.

He cries out, humiliated, and the sound must surprise Taeil, because his hips jerk forward. Mark’s hip bones knock against the counter with surprising volume, but he doesn’t care. It’s a fantasy coming true for him.

“Are you gonna come for me?” Taeil murmurs, close to Mark’s ear.

Mark shudders, not anticipating him being so close. “Yes,” he moans. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m so close.”

“Fuck my fist until you come,” Taeil demands, and Mark’s eyes fall shut. He can barely move, but obeys the command. He ends up in direct opposition of Taeil, so whenever Taeil’s hand is around the base of his dick is also when Taeil is deepest inside him.

Mark comes in mere seconds of this, ripping his arms away from Taeil’s hold and resting his forearms against the counter. Taeil follows shortly after, pressing his chest to Mark’s back. His knees wobble, and Taeil is scarcely able to grab him before he hits the floor.

“Are you alright?” Taeil asks, tone unusually warm.

“Yeah, just give me a second,” Mark replies.

In the time it takes for Mark to collect himself, Taeil has gotten redressed and cleaned up the mess they made. He meticulously covers the used condom with the brown paper towels from the dispenser.

"I'm thirty two."

"What?"

"Your question from earlier," Taeil elaborates while Mark cleans himself up. "I'm thirty two, not forty."

Mark grins at that. "Good to know. I could have destroyed your rickety old bones."

"Would you not have let me fuck you if I were ten years older?" Taeil questions, leaning against the counter top.

"If you look how you do," Mark reaches past Taeil to retrieve his phone, laying next to the faucet, "You can fuck me any time."

Taeil scoffs, but the red tips of his ears give away how flustered the comment made him. Mark counts it as a win for himself. He emerges from the bathroom, Taeil right behind, which, in hindsight, is probably not the wisest idea.

Donghyuck is standing there with Jisung, Donghyuck sporting a look of disgust and disapproval, and Jisung’s tiny features are arranged in an expression that can only be described as embarrassment.

“We brought you back some food,” Jisung says, voice clipped, holding up a paper bag. Donghyuck pushes Jisung’s arms down with one of his own.

“Seems like you were already full of something else,” Donghyuck chimes in. He grabs Jisung’s hand and tugs him along. “Come on, you can have Mark’s bossam.”

 

(Donghyuck delivers a perfect run through of Drippin’ with Jisung sitting there in the studio, and Mark doesn’t wanna think about what that means.)

Chapter Text

Yukhei seems content to not kiss Mark on the lips, and Mark doesn’t mind either.

This particular meeting was not something Mark had planned. Instead of Mark making the first move, Yukhei texted him first.

First, there was a message on his phone from Yuta. His most popular book was going to be translated into Japanese soon, and Yuta was a member of the board of the Japanese publishing company. Minseok put the two of them in contact, hoping it would better the chances of the deal going through. The message is business related, so Mark swipes it away and goes to take a shower.

Mark’s laying out his favorite toy and getting ready to fuck himself while thinking about Taeil for a third time when the words is this mark lee pop up on his phone.

it’s yukhei by the way pops up mere seconds later, and the terror that initially seized Mark melts away. He thought Daniel had finally just given his number away to the public. Before Mark can even answer, the messages keep coming.

i took haechans phone while he was in the studio and i just assumed u were in his recent texts

did you know you’re saved in his phone as big fucking loser

at least there’s a heart next to it

anyway can you come over

That gets Mark’s attention. He types back ???? and just as he was expecting, Yukhei responds at the speed of light.

i need ur help planning haechans birthday party and I dont want him to find out about it this time

Mark looks at the calendar. It’s early May.

Donghyuck’s birthday is in a month

can u please jsut come to my house he receives back, with several sad looking emojis. i’ll make it worth ur while

Mark agrees and Yukhei sends him a plethora of heart emojis and kissy faces along with an address.

They do start planning Donghyuck’s birthday party, but it doesn’t last long. After being with Daniel so long, Mark has become an expert at picking up on tension, and it’s rolling off of Yukhei in waves.

He gets off the phone with a florist and stops pacing, and Yukhei almost has an aneurysm trying to act like he wasn’t staring at Mark’s legs. Mark goes and sits next to him, obnoxiously close, and Yukhei’s Adam's apple bobs dangerously as he swallows.

“What do you want?” Mark asks.

Yukhei looks perplexed. “What do you mean?”

Mark exhales through his nose. “You’ve been staring at me since I got here.”

“You just…” Yukhei begins, waving his hands around. “You look good. That’s all.”

That makes Mark smile a little bit. He turns to face Yukhei and says, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Yukhei’s big, big hand comes to wrap around Mark’s waist, and Mark shifts into his lap as if he were in a trance. His lips part automatically, preparing to be kissed, but to his surprise, Yukhei dips down to kiss the column of his throat. Mark lets out a shaky breath.

He doesn’t tell Yukhei not to mark him up, because he hasn’t been that way in a while and he kind of misses it. Yukhei listens to the unsaid request, teeth nipping over the skin and soothing it over with his tongue and lips. Mark has subtly started to rock back and forth in his lap, but Yukhei is so into his task that he doesn’t even notice. Mark takes it upon himself to get off of Yukhei’s lap and take off his shirt and shorts, leaving them on the floor in front of the couch.

“You know, when I said I’d make it worth your while, I meant that I’d buy you dinner or something,” Yukhei says, watching Mark undress. “Not whatever this is.”

“Do you not want to have sex?” Mark asks, biting his lip to hold in laughter when Yukhei waves his hands in front of him.

“Yes, I want to have sex with you,” Yukhei says. “Just pleasantly surprised at the change of plans.”

“Change of plans,” Mark parrots, mocking him. He deposits himself back into Yukhei’s lap and wraps his arms around his neck. “I think this was your plan all along.”

Yukhei’s hands come up to squeeze at Mark’s waist. “Maybe I thought about it.”

“Maybe,” Mark deadpans.

“I didn’t think it was going to happen,” Yukhei counters, and Mark finally gets tired of all the back and forth and pushes Yukhei’s head back into his neck.

Yukhei’s hands slip down to Mark’s ass, kneading it firmly while he presses kisses against the pale skin. “I love this so much,” he groans against Mark’s jugular. “You have a nice ass,” he says.

Mark doesn’t even blink, murmuring out a small ‘thank you’ in response. Yukhei seems to enjoy Mark’s manners, because he shifts his hands to get a firmer grip on Mark’s ass. With this new grip, Yukhei pushes Mark into himself while he thrusts upwards, their crotches grinding together.

Mark gasps, and Yukhei grins at him sunnily. “I want to eat you out.”

Mark does blush at that one. He is typically unphased by such straightforwardness, but this situation is different. Even as an erotica author, rimming is certainly not something he’s ever thought about, in writing or in practice. One thing he is certain of is that Yukhei’s tongue is hot and pleasant to have against his neck, and Mark sees no reason why it would be different anywhere else.

“I want you to eat me out,” is what Mark responds, breathless.

Yukhei lifts Mark off of his lap, using nothing but the strength of his arms, and gently places his down on the couch next to him. Mark’s breath catches. He’s never been picked up like that before. The action is minuscule, so irrelevant that Yukhei hardly even thought about it, but that’s what makes it hotter for Mark.

“Come on,” Yukhei says, standing up and offering his hand to Mark. He takes it, and Yukhei leads him to what Mark assumes is his bedroom, down a long hallway. Yukhei lays out on the bed, and Mark blatantly checks him out, eyes drinking in his long legs, long torso, long fingers. He thanks his lucky stars that he cleaned his ass this afternoon.

Yukhei strips him of his underwear and guides Mark to position his thighs around Yukhei’s head. He thanks his lucky stars again when Yukhei takes one look at him and says, “Wow, you’re so clean.”

“Are you sure about this, Yukhei?” Mark asks, knees resting on either side of Yukhei’s head, hovering his ass a few scant centimeters above the elder’s mouth. Yukhei’s eyes shine with mirth, silently mocking Mark’s nerves.

He can’t help it. It’s not every day where someone offers to eat him out, much less someone handsome like Yukhei is.

Yukhei takes one of Mark’s hands and entwines the fingers with his own. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Mark.”

“You’re putting your tongue in my ass, this isn’t supposed to be romantic,” Mark complains, weakly pulling his hand away, but Yukhei holds fast.

Yukhei’s responding grin is dazzling. “So you’re gonna let me do it?”

Mark blinks away the concoction of shame and arousal burning behind his eyelids. He tips his head back, muscles of his thighs relaxing as he sinks down and closes the distance between his hole and Yukhei’s mouth. “Do your worst,” he murmurs.

Yukhei nuzzles his face between Mark's cheeks for a moment, then leans up and opens his mouth. He runs his tongue along the crease, one long glide, all the way from the bottom to the top. He lets it drag back down, slower. Mark's impossibly warm against Yukhei's tongue, and he clenches just a little when instead of licking across it, Yukhei presses a deceptively soft kiss to the skin.

Yukhei moves his head a bit, beginning to lap at Mark's rim. Mark groans, soft, distracted, sounding pleased already. One hand goes to Yukhei’s hair, gently carding through it as Yukhei suctions his lips over Mark’s hole, the flat of his tongue stroking him. The sound of Mark’s other hand failing to find purchase on the bedding is audible, and the elder resists the urge to smile.

Yukhei lets go of Mark’s hand to spread his cheeks, thumbs drifting over the wet pink of his hole, where Yukhei has made it prettier than it already was, shiny with saliva.

"Oh, " Mark sobs, back arching, “that—feels so good,” he chokes out, breathing labored.

Yukhei finds Mark’s noises endearing, and decides he definitely needs to put his tongue back there. Mark is already sliding down further, a silent permission for Yukhei to keep going.

Yukhei doesn’t squander a second, gripping Mark’s ass cheeks, parting them and mouthing right up against his rim. All the air rushes from Mark’s lungs, his body going taut. “Oh my god, Yukhei, fuck—”

He sounds a little awed and a little surprised, and very happy, and that’s the truly important thing. Yukhei hums just to make him tremble and gets to work. “Yukhei, I—”

Again and again, the tender little opening contracts under his tongue until Yukhei coaxes it into opening for him. He’s slow about it, easing his way in, kissing there as if he’s done it countless times before.

Yukhei is completely shameless, groaning against the tight clench of Mark’s hole just to hear him gasp, thumbing him open and teasing at him as long as he can stand, giving hot quick little licks like he’s savouring him. When he can’t withstand the temptation another second, he drives his tongue deeper, only to ease back and tease lightly at him all over again.

Yukhei’s touching Mark everywhere he can. Huge palms splayed across the small of his back, down to the curve of his ass, squeezing the firm globes in bruising grip as he fucks his tongue inside his tight heat.

Mark, hovering over him, writhes and blushes and emits a noise that might very well be a whimper. Yukhei rewards him with a grin and a twist of his tongue. “This—” he starts, breath shuddering. “God, Yukhei, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“You’re so sensitive baby,” Yukhei murmurs, pitying and soothing all at once. A surge of heat passes through Mark’s chest at the tone, the name .

He turns his attention to Mark’s balls, perfect for Yukhei to take into his mouth, sucking and curling his tongue around each one, making Mark beg so sweetly, so pitifully for him to stop.

He passes the flat of his tongue against them, feeling a dizzying flare of triumph when Mark whines a broken sounding, “Yukhei—please.”

Mark is showing no sign of doing anything with his hands but clawing at the covers for dear life, his wrists fisting in the sheets. The evil side in Yukhei thrills at the idea of making him come from nothing but his tongue inside him, fluttering against his hole, lapping up each drop of his come when he releases into the bedsheets.

Mark’s practically hyperventilating when Yukhei pushes his tongue deeper, all the way in. Yukhei’s fingers are splayed hard over his ass and his jaw is starting to ache but Mark— Mark is quivering above him and Yukhei can hear every little moan, sob and whimper he tries, and fails, to choke down.

“Still with me?”

Mark whines high in his throat at the question and leans forward, braces his palms on the headboard. He doesn’t give a verbal answer.

Yukhei pauses, looking up at him through his lashes. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No—no—fuck no. Just...I thought you’d want me to reciprocate somehow.”

“Unnecessary,” is all Yukhei breathes in response, losing half the word when he curves up to mouth at Mark’s hole all over again, tongue pressing deep.

Slowly, Yukhei pushes his tongue back into him. Mark’s stupidly hot inside, indecently slick from earlier, opening right up for Yukhei’s tongue. “You’re so tight, so hot. Bet you’d feel amazing around my cock,” Yukhei can’t resist murmuring at him, and Mark’s hole gives a delightful spasm coupled with a breathy moan as Yukhei’s flickers his tongue against the rim.

Yukhei works his tongue in as deeply as he can manage, experimenting, and then keeps his lips tight as he slowly draws off. “Yes,” Mark hisses quietly, as if to himself, and Yukhei does it again.

Mark only whimpers and obligingly rocks down, legs parted wide, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Yukhei’s head.

“Ah,” Mark says, sounding quite serene as Yukhei fucks his tongue inside. “Fuck.”

Mark's thighs are twitching feverishly, where he’s balanced over Yukhei’s head, and he's making these low, breathy noises, half-smothered like he's trying not to. He mumbles something none too coherent to begin with that only slides further into inarticulacy when Yukhei slips a finger down lower and then between his cheeks to circle his hole.

Yukhei can't resist stroking there, slipping a finger inside all at once just to hear Mark’s startled gasp, just to feel the way that beautiful body clenches for him, hips rocking and hands clutching, trying to take more.

He fucks his finger up into Mark, slick and hot, pressing at his rim with the pad of a thumb to spread him open that much more.

“Yes, god, just like that,” Mark gasps, sounding increasingly desperate, and Yukhei pushes it in deeper; then there’s a soft cry escaping from Mark’s throat when his ass clenches around the digit.  

Yukhei knows who Mark is—the whole nation does, obviously, but Yukhei especially. Donghyuck talks about Mark a lot, and so does Kang Daniel, and it’s Yukhei’s job to stay on top of any and all hot gossip surfacing on the internet.

It hadn’t been difficult to imagine what kind of person Mark is from piecing together the bits and pieces of information he receives. What he manages to collect is that Mark is cool headed and in control of himself at all times.

So it’s a thing of beauty to have someone as typically composed as Mark gasping just from the smallest hint of penetration, the sort of thing that has Yukhei—horribly, disgustingly—imagining coming in him—no condom, no uncertainty—just being able to fuck him hard and come inside him. Yukhei laps the rim eagerly at the image, eases in a second finger, stretches him wider, forces his tongue back in alongside them.

Mark keeps gripping at his knees, at the sheets, at his own hair, cock full and reddened and untouched against his tummy. He tries to draw back, but Mark only squirms and directs his head back to where it previously was, and tries to drive himself down for more.

A few more probing touches with his tongue and one twist of his fingers and Mark is clutching at the sheets and whatever part of Yukhei he can. “Yukhei, it’s so much,” he gasps.

And then Mark is keening and shuddering and downright whining, “Yukhei, I’ll come, I’ll come, please don’t stop, I can’t—need—oh fuck, god, oh my god, please please please,” until Yukhei thrusts his tongue in as far as he can, slicks both fingers in along with it to seek and press.

Seconds later, Mark jerks like a livewire and climaxes with a shattered cry, come dripping down  on the bedsheets and Yukhei’s forehead, clenching tight and silken and perfect around Yukhei’s fingers.

Yukhei hears it before he feels it. One hand going to press against his own cock, which is throbbing at the realization of what’s just happened. “Fuck.”

Mark comes down from his high slowly. Yukhei purses his lips against his hole in an obscene kiss, sucking ever so lightly and Mark makes a noise that sounds helpless and broken, body jerking and shaking like Yukhei has left him in pieces.

Mark comes down from where he was sitting, and Yukhei meets him halfway for the kiss, all reservation from earlier shattered by the experience they just shared. When Mark begins to laugh, Yukhei pulls back, confused.

“What is it?”

Mark’s wheezing now. “I fucking came on your forehead, Yukhei.”

Yukhei doesn’t even hesitate before singing the song from The Lion King, and Mark laughs so hard he falls off the bed. It’s endearing, and Yukhei finds himself wondering why Daniel would ever dump someone like Mark.

When the younger pops up from the side of the bed, his eyes immediately catch on Yukhei’s dick, still very, very hard. He gasps, hand flying up to cover his mouth before clambering up onto the bed.

“Oh my god, I’m so rude,” Mark says, reaching for it through his sweatpants. “Let me help.”

“No, Mark, it’s okay,” Yukhei lies through his teeth. “Really.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Yukhei. Tell me what you want from me and you can have it,” Mark tells him, having absolutely no idea how powerful those words are. Yukhei takes a deep breath. 

“Can you just sit there and look pretty while I jack off?”

Mark sits back on his haunches, gawking at the elder. “Pardon?”

Yukhei feels his face start to burn. “It’s just,” he mumbles shyly, “You’re really hot. And you looked wrecked and I could one hundred percent just come from looking at you.”

“Okay,” Mark says, sitting back. “Okay, I can do that.”

“You can?”

“I can. Do you want me to do anything to myself?” Mark asks.

Yukhei looks starry eyed. “No. Just sit there.”

And god that’s so fucking hot it’s absurd. Yukhei pulls his shirt over his head, and a wave of embarrassment crashes over Mark as he watches. Yukhei had been fully clothed when eating him out, and the contrast is mortifying for Mark in a way that makes heat swirl in his stomach. Mark lays back against the bed, spreading his legs. Yukhei does the same, but he’s naked and he’s got his cock in his fist, fucking up into it with all the desperation of a ravenous man.

Mark supposes he makes for quite the image—hickeys lining his neck, hair a tousled mess, red bitten, spit slick lips, chest beginning to heave from arousal. Yukhei’s jacking himself off. While looking at Mark.

The sound of it is wet and indecent, and Mark is so so ashamed when his own dick starts to get hard again. Yukhei’s just so...attractive, and he’s focused, chasing his orgasm as fast as he possibly can. The way he’s whimpering is pathetic, and Mark decides to try something.

Yukhei’s getting lost in the feeling of his own fist, eyes keep fluttering shut despite several tries of keeping them open.

Mark coos, quietly, “Ah, ah, ah. Look at me.”

The effect it has on Yukhei is instantaneous. His eyes snap open, and he keeps stroking himself, but slower, even though it wasn’t part of Mark’s request. His lips part slightly as he pants, stuttered half breaths and throaty moans that turn Mark on way more than they should.

Yukhei is beginning to squirm now, the early beginnings of an orgasm beginning to unfurl in his abdomen. It feels so good, too good, and his eyes just won’t stay open.

Mark closes the gap between them, grabbing Yukhei’s face roughly. He leans in dangerously close, lips brushing against Yukhei’s in a barely there kiss.

“I said look at me.”

Yukhei whines, high in his throat, as he opens his eyes again. Mark’s close enough to be the only thing that Yukhei sees, and they make eye contact instantly. Mark’s eyes are really very pretty, and Yukhei would still look into them even if Mark’s hand wasn’t underneath his chin, holding him in place.

Mark breaks the eye contact for a split second, and in that second, he spits down between their bodies, directly onto Yukhei’s dick. It’s filthy and disgusting, but Yukhei’s dick spits pre-come. He can’t even process that fact that he likes it, because Mark’s unoccupied hand reaches down between them.

Yukhei moves his hand away, assuming Mark was going to take over, but the younger guides his hand back to where it was. Yukhei resumes stroking himself while Mark rubs the flat of his palm into the head, mixing his spit with Yukhei’s wetness. Yukhei tries to throw his head back in a moan, but Mark’s got him held fast.

“Feel good?” Mark smiles.

“Yes,” Yukhei gasps, hips bucking, “Feels good, feels so good.”

“Good boy,” Mark praises, and Yukhei nearly blacks out. “I need you to come for me baby, can you do that?”

Yukhei’s hyperaware of the role reversal. He does like being called baby though, so he nods eagerly. “Yes, please,” he begs. “I can come.”

“Then come,” Mark purrs, and Yukhei comes the hardest he’s ever come in his entire life. He maintains eye contact right up until he releases, an act of self preservation. Holding eye contact with the very reason for his orgasm didn’t seem that safe. Or possible for that matter, because the waves of pleasure coursing through him are powerful and all of his nerve cells are alight with energy, forcing him to shut his eyes tight as his body goes taut.

Mark drops his hand from Yukhei’s face. “How fast can you get hard again?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“You said I’d feel amazing around your cock. Don’t you wanna find out?” Mark asks, looking innocent.

Yukhei swallows thickly. He nods.

Mark presses a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He grabs Yukhei’s shirt and pulls it over his head. It’s big enough on him to be a dress, albeit a very short one. He wears nothing else, and wanders out into the kitchen, where he nearly has a fucking heart attack.

Ill be in the kitchen,” Donghyuck mocks him, sitting on the counter and tossing a cherry into his mouth. “Disgusting.”

“How did you get in here?” Mark asks, clutching at his chest in shock.

“Yukhei works for me, I have a key,” Donghyuck explains, “How did you get in here?”

Mark folds his arms. “Yukhei invited me over.”

Donghyuck gives Mark a once over. “Ugh, I knew all of my friends and acquaintances would think you’re hot,” he gripes. “Yukhei, Taeil, Jaehyun. Perverts.”

Mark has a stunning moment of clarity. Hearing the names one after another like that makes one thing imminently clear; they’re all close to Donghyuck. This foolish plan was hatched from Donghyuck’s brain. Mark starts to feel sick. He sits down on one of the chairs in Yukhei’s kitchen.

“Donghyuck,” Mark starts shakily, in a moment of crippling insecurity, “Are you asking people to have sex with me as some kind of personal favor?”

“What?”

“Why are all the people I fucked people I met through you?” he asks next. Donghyuck just stares at him.

This is so embarrassing. Here Mark was, thinking he was actually desirable when Donghyuck was probably paying his friends to have sex with him. Mark feels dirty, used.

“Mark,” Donghyuck says, quietly, almost like he’s trying not to laugh. “You fucking moron.”

The elder furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“Tell me, Mark,” his best friend taunts, walking over to sit in the chair next to him. “Have you attended events or made plans that weren’t through me?”

Mark, who met Jaehyun at a party Donghyuck invited him to. Mark, who met both Taeil and Yukhei when Donghyuck made him leave his own home.

Mark, who is just as much a moron as Donghyuck says.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck echoes, slapping Mark on the back of his head. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“Um,” Mark starts, “I’m sorry?”

“You’re fucking hot, Mark. You’re intelligent and you take good care of people. You’re the total package, and that buck toothed, brain dead bitch is stupid as hell for breaking up with you. It’shis loss. Stop feeling sorry for yourself all the time,” Donghyuck scolds Mark.

“And if my hook ups are making you doubt me or yourself, go one of your fucking nerd places and pick someone up,” Donghyuck suggests, not unkindly despite the harsh sounding words. Mark stands up, walking to the living room to put his clothes on, but then he remembers why he’s in a foreign residence in the first place.

“But Yukhei…” he trails off, unsure of what to do. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, putting the cherries back in the fridge.

“Go in there and fuck him, I’ll come back later,” he sighs, and Mark blows him a kiss.

“You’re a godsend, Hyuck,” Mark says, and Donghyuck gives him the middle finger in return before walking out of the door.

Mark comes back in Yukhei’s bedroom, and he’s exactly where Mark left him.

He positions himself on his knees between Yukhei’s thighs. He grabs the length and strokes it experimentally. Yukhei bucks, still sensitive, and Mark thinks about how much fun this is going to be.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

“Do you want me to blow you?” Mark asks. “Taeil taught me how.”

It’s not exactly the smartest thing to say; bringing up another hook up in front of Yukhei, one of Yukhei’s coworkers no less, but Mark is pleasantly surprised when Yukhei breathes out a tiny “fuck”, hips jolting.

He leans up to kiss Mark on the lips, using his distracted state as an opportunity to shift Mark into his lap fully. “I can’t wait that long,” he groans against Mark’s lips, “I’d come.”

“Isn’t that the goal?”

Yukhei pulls back to look at him. “I want to fuck you,” he deadpans.

Mark shivers, the intense look on Yukhei’s face suddenly turning him shy. “Okay. You can fuck me.”

“Brilliant,” Yukhei says. He makes a come hither motion with his hand, and Mark follows, straddling his lap.

"Promise you'll tell me if I do anything you don't like?" Yukhei says, and it sounds like a question. It's less than a question and more of a plea. Mark would have done it anyway, but he feels blessed to have found a hook up that seems to genuinely care about Mark's well being as much as his own.

"Promise," Mark agrees. 

“Do you want me to wear a condom?” Yukhei asks carefully.

Mark raised an eyebrow from above him. “Are you clean? Did you plan on coming inside of me?”

Yukhei looks only half sheepish. “Yes. And maybe I thought about it?” he says, parroting his words from earlier. Mark’s entire body floods with heat at the thought of Yukhei’s cum dripping out of him. He decides that it’s something that needs to happen.

He shoves his fingers into Yukhei’s mouth without any preamble, and the elder doesn’t waste any time wetting them with his saliva. For a brief moment, Mark imagines what Yukhei would look like sucking dick, but his own dick twitches in interest and it’s much too dangerous to think about. Not now. Later, in the confines of his bedroom.

When he is satisfied with the state of his fingers, he reaches back and circles his rim. He doesn’t take his time while pushing the digit in. Yukhei had done a lot of the preparation himself. This is more for show than anything, and Yukhei’s eyes widen when he realizes Mark is going to fuck himself on his fingers, right in Yukhei’s own lap.

“I—” Yukhei begins, but his words die in his throat when Mark rocks himself back on his fingers. “I have lube if you nee—”

With the hand that isn’t currently buried in himself, Mark presses his finger against Yukhei’s lips in a shushing gesture. Yukhei quiets down, and Mark feels a rush of something hot in his chest. He’s so obedient.

“My fingers are no good after yours,” Mark pouts, despite still fucking himself back onto them. Yukhei grins stupidly at the statement.

Yukhei’s fists are clenched at his sides while he watches the show Mark is putting on for him. He lets Mark pull at his wrist, opening his palm when prompted. Mark folds his ring and pinky fingers along with his thumb, leaving the index and middle fingers out. “Stay still,” he orders, and Yukhei just nods. Mark uses his own hands to spread his cheeks apart and pushes himself down onto Yukhei’s fingers.

The effect on Mark is instantaneous. His mouth drops open, back arching prettily. He pushes his chest into Yukhei’s face, and Yukhei takes advantage of it. He licks over a dusky nipple, and Mark’s moan gets cut off by another one. His head snaps down to Yukhei, who has started sucking diligently.

He stops rocking his hips, and one of his hands leaves his ass to caress the back of Yukhei’s head. The elder pulls away, lips shiny with saliva. “Ah ah ah. I need you to hold yourself open for me.”

Mark whines his discontent, both from the loss of sensation and the flagrant mockery,  but Yukhei doesn’t close his mouth around his nipple again until he resumes motion. He raises and drops his hips faster now, whines and whimpers leaving his mouth in a continuous loop.

“Are you gonna come?” Yukhei asks. Mark remains silent. Yukhei pulls out of Mark, even as the younger tries to clench around him to keep it in.

“Wow,” Yukhei wonders aloud while searching for the lube, which had become lost in the bed sheets. “I could make you come with only my fingers.”

“You made me come with your tongue alone, why would your fingers be any different?” Mark questions, hearing more than seeing Yukhei lube himself up.

Yukhei lifts Mark up by his waist and guides him down until Yukhei’s filling him up. The only sound Mark makes is a deep sigh, likely of relief. Yukhei frowns slightly.

The corners of his lips twitch downward. “I don’t think I could make you come with just my cock.”

Mark pushes at Yukhei’s chest until he lays down. “Wanna bet?”

“Sure. But bet what?” Yukhei challenges with a raised eyebrow.

Mark pauses, not expecting Yukhei to take him seriously. He takes a moment to think seriously about everything that has passed between them, and he suddenly gets an idea. “If I come untouched, I get to make a request of you.”

Yukhei’s eyebrows draw together. “That’s rather vague.”

Mark shrugs. “I like a surprise.”

“Fine,” Yukhei agrees. “And if you don’t, then I get to make a request from you. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mark confirms. It should be awkward—having a normal conversation, albeit homoerotic in nature, with Yukhei,  while sitting on his dick, but it’s not. The situation is comfortable as if they had known each other for years, or maybe know more about each other than they do.

It’s doubly comfortable because of the feeling of Yukhei’s dick inside of Mark, snug in his walls, and Mark cares less about this stupid bet and more about getting fucked until he can barely breathe.

Yukhei takes it upon himself not to say anything else. He raises himself up on his heels and delivers a measured, powerful thrust upwards. Mark nearly topples off of Yukhei’s lap, and he quickly realizes he isn’t going to last long at all.

He lets Yukhei spread him open for better access, way beyond feeling exposed. Yukhei, in what Mark supposes is mercy, begins slow, but it’s only a matter of time before he loses himself and starts to fuck him like he wanted to the entire time.

It’s hard, fast, and hot—Yukhei’s pulled Mark down to kiss him, but they aren’t quite there yet. Open mouthed and gasping, they breathe in each other’s air, Yukhei’s broad palms roaming the expanse of Mark’s back.

They keep coming back down to his ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. Suddenly, Yukhei lets his hands retreat, then come back and cup Mark’s ass, hard. It’s more of a slap than anything, and Mark borderline squeaks in response. He hadn’t even known he liked that.

Mark can only think of one thing that could make this better than it is now. He places his hands on Yukhei’s chest to signal him to stop. When he does, Mark grinds down slowly. Jackhammer fucking is nice, extremely pleasurable, but Mark wants that request, and the quickest way to make him to come is from a prostate orgasm.

Yukhei’s so big— Mark knows how fucking cliche it is, that the ripped, well built guy has a huge dick, but Yukhei has shown him nothing that strays from the stereotype. This includes the stereotype that they don’t last long, because it only takes a few slow rolls of Mark’s hips to have Yukhei gripping Mark’s waist with enough force to leave semi-permanent markings along the skin there.

Yukhei comes for the second time that evening, and Mark’s insides fill with an obscene, wet type of heat that he absolutely loves. He rides him through the orgasm, moaning quietly when Yukhei digs his fingers into his skin in an attempt to hold him tighter. Mark sits up, and he feels the come drip from his hole slowly. A shiver passes through his body and he would collapse if he weren’t so dead set on chasing his own orgasm.

He moves up to straddle Yukhei’s chest, probably make Yukhei suck on his dick until he comes all over that pretty face, but he feels something poking his back and looks back in shock and awe.

Mark’s mouth drops open. “How are you still hard?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Yukhei guides him back down, and Mark actually blushes when the first spurt of come leaks out of him. Even the sound is indecent, intensely wet, and it makes Mark want to hide his face in his hands. He can’t though, because his hands are braced on Yukhei’s chest, clutching for dear life as Yukhei fucks him, rough and reckless.

Mark has no fucking idea where Yukhei summoned this kind of stamina, but he’s not complaining.

He comes onto Yukhei’s chest with a strangled cry, body trembling. Yukhei’s right behind him, coming for the third time, albeit a little weaker than his previous orgasms. Mark finds himself almost jealous, but any other emotion is overshadowed by the feeling of being filled once again. Yukhei holds him close as he comes down from the high, cheeks pink when Mark looks down at him.

He releases his hold on Mark when he shifts to stand, laughing outright when Mark’s knees wobble. Mark shoots him a playfully icy glare that shuts him up nonetheless.

Mark takes two steps then turns back around to look at Yukhei, laying down with his arms behind his head, watching Mark carefully. Mark tilts his head to the side and smiles.

“I’m going to use your shower,” he states. When all he gets is a nod in response, he makes sure he is unsubtle in the way he swings his hips when he leaves the room.



 

( I came untouched Mark texts him later.

you win Yukhei replies. what’s your request? )

Chapter Text

The door to Mark’s apartment swings open before he can even get the key in the lock.

He jumps back, startled and confused the door would even open in the first place. His confusion increases tenfold when Na Jaemin opens the door, huge grin settling onto his face.

He begins to frown when he sees Mark. He juts his bottom lip out, “Oh, hey Mark. I thought you were Donghyuck.”

None of what Mark’s hearing makes any sense. “Can I...come in?”

“Oh, sure!” Jaemin says brightly, moving aside. “What brings you here anyway?”

Leave it to Jaemin to make Mark feel like a stranger in his own home. “I live here.”

There’s a small ‘o’ on Jaemin’s lips when he realizes. “Oh, you’re Jisung’s roommate. Small world.”

Mark walks into the living room, finding Jisung sprawled out on the couch with snacks around him. He sits up when he sees Mark.

“Oh, Mark, hi,” he says, sounding way too cheerful. “Wanna join us for movies?”

Mark’s eyes flicker between Jisung and Jaemin. “You’re expecting Donghyuck?”

“Yeah, he said he’d be here fifteen minutes ago,” Jisung pouts.

Mark is not completely oblivious to the soft looks that pass between his two best friends when they don’t think he’s watching. He doesn’t know how Jaemin even functions as such a third wheel.

He waves his hand. “I’m pretty exhausted. I’ll just see you in the morning,” he decides.

He takes off Yukhei’s borrowed clothes when he gets into his room and slips into bed, muscles in his backside aching. Mark, on the cusp of sleep, feels more than sees or hears Donghyuck arrive, because he swings open the door to Mark’s room and gives him a kiss on the forehead when he sees he is half asleep.

Donghyuck, Jisung and Jaemin make far too much noise in the living room, but it sounds like they’re having a good time, so Mark doesn’t nag them.






A few days after the dull ache in his ass subsides, Mark decides to take Donghyuck’s advice and go to one of his nerd places to pick someone up. There are two problems.

Problem number one; he’s not looking for a relationship. That’s been established from the beginning of this plan, and he plans to stick to it. For some reason, any nerd place Mark could think of isn’t really a hunting grounds for a quick fuck. History museums, art exhibitions; people who attend these kinds of events are typically not looking for sex.

There’s a disconnect in Mark’s brain, making it difficult for him to believe that there are actual nerds, attractive, gay ones, that are willing and ready and excited to get naked with a person they know very little about. That being said, Mark exists, not ugly and with a body count of three, doing what his mind will not allow him to imagine.

Problem number two; he doesn’t really have a nerd place. In the start of his career, he had been a homebody, holed up in his apartment starting novel after novel. After he got together with Daniel, he partied a little bit, but with the likes of people like Daniel, models and athletes and people with a social ranking much higher than he.

He tells all of this to Jisung, who merely rolls his eyes at him. “There’s that university library a five minute walk from here. Just go there.”

“University?” Mark echoes. “You want me to carry my twenty four year old ass onto a college campus to look for some dick? Some of us aren’t college age anymore, Jisung.”

“You still look like you’re twenty, no one will care,” Jisung says back. “I meet a friend there sometimes—”

“What’s this?” Mark asks, squeezing Jisung’s cheek. “Jisung meeting up with people, having secret rendezvous?”

Jisung turns bright red, swatting Mark’s hand away. “It’s not a rendezvous, he’s a literature major, so I go to talk to him and get a third opinion on my work sometimes.”

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Is he cute?”

Jisung blushes but ignores the question. “Not important. But what is important is the pretty hot librarian that works the front desk.”

Mark outright laughs at that one. “A hot librarian? What kind of bad 80s porn are you watching, Jisung?”

“Just go, trust me,” Jisung insists. Mark thinks about it briefly. In the four years Mark has known Jisung, he has never offered him attitude or anything other than playful disrespect, which is actually a pretty good resume. If anything went wrong, he could at least go to sleep know Jisung didn’t have any ill intent.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Mark agrees, and Jisung claps his hands excitedly.






Mark is eternally thankful for 24-hour libraries. He went there the previous night to scope it out when no one was around; no use in staggering around blind when he only came for one thing.

Jisung told Mark that the hot librarian works either the front desk or on the ominously named death floor , so Mark walks up to the front desk and clears his throat. He is more than surprised when the person turns around and Jeno’s there.

The younger’s eyes curve into crescents. “Hi, Mark! What are you doing here?”

Mark scratches his neck. “I’m kind of looking for someone.”

Jeno’s brows furrow. “Jisung usually doesn’t meet Jaemin on Thursdays, maybe I missed them. They usually sit over there,” he says, pointing over to a distant corner, hidden by a bookshelf.

So that makes Jaemin the mysterious literature major. Mark and Jaemin know each other a little bit. He briefly begins to wonder why Jisung is being so secretive, but his thoughts get interrupted by Jeno continuing on.

“I highly doubt they’re studying back there, but what can you do,” he whispers, shrugging.

Mark doesn’t want to think about that. He leans closer to Jeno. “I actually wasn’t looking for Jisung.”

Confusion etches itself onto Jeno’s features. “Then who?”

Mark can hardly tell Jeno that he’s looking for a hot librarian, so he racks his brain for the name Jisung had probably mentioned in passing.

“Someone named Jungwoo?”

Jeno nods in acknowledgment. “Oh, okay. He’s on the death floor today. Do you want me to take you?”

Mark thinks about it. Jeno is friendly, and would probably walk right up to Jungwoo and start a conversation, Mark in tow. That would ruin Mark’s ‘lurk in the shadows and observe until he musters up enough courage to talk to him’ plan, so he shakes his head.

“That’s okay,” he says. “Top floor right?”

Jeno gives him a thumbs up and sends him on his way. Once the elevator doors close behind him, Mark realizes he has no idea what Jungwoo looks like and promptly starts panicking.

He panics even more when there are not one, but two good-looking people at the desk on the death floor. Mark ducks his head, hiding his face and walking straight between the pillars and into the main area. At least he brought his bookbag, so he looks as much as an exhausted college student as the next person.

He feels eyes on him, so he turns around quickly. One of the people at the front desk, the taller one with flaming orange hair, is peering at him curiously over the rim of his spectacles. He turns his attention back to his work when he notices Mark looking back at him.

A few minutes later, Mark is looking at the mere 600 words of his long overdue novel when out of the corner of his eye, he sees the chair next to him get pulled out. He turns and sees the guy who was looking at him before.

“Can I help you?” Mark asks.

“Are you Mark Lee?” the guy whispers back, and his eyes widen when Mark nods. He claps his hands over his mouth, then holds one of them out or Mark to shake. “Oh my god, I’m such a fan!”

This is...new. No one has ever approached Mark like this, especially after Daniel broke up with him.

“Can you sign my book?” the guy asks, and Mark gets a good look at him. He looks nervous as hell.

Mark gives him what he hopes is a soothing smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Orange Hair practically leaps up to go get it, and Mark sinks back into his chair. The guy is really very good looking, with a button nose and a pretty lips. Mark pretends not to watch him walk back over.

His fan hands him something, and it takes a little a moment for Mark to realize it’s actually a book. The copy is tattered but when Mark looks at the cover, he sees the picture that was agreed upon for the very first printing. That makes this particular copy one of five hundred. Mark is kind of impressed.

A large majority of the pages are dog-eared and thin, the spine is cracked, and there are multicolored sticky notes protruding from the edges. Mark looks up at the guy for a split second before feeling around in his bag for a pen.

“Sorry about the state of the book,” he apologizes. “I’m a graduate student, and I’m using this book for my final thesis. I have to read it often and make a lot of notations, and I don’t like writing in books.”

Mark’s hand freezes. “Your degree is riding on this?”

Orange Hair nods, sitting back down next to Mark. “Yeah.  It’s about the importance of erotic literature in modern society and the criticism it faces when placed side by side with its traditional romance and science fiction counterparts.”

Mark honestly hadn’t even thought one of his books could be used for something like this. His cheeks color. “Well, thank you for using my novel, and I hope your paper turns out well.

“Who do I make this out to?” Mark asks when he opens the front cover.

“Jungwoo,” the stranger says, and Mark drops his pen.

“Is...is there something wrong?”

Mark hadn’t been expecting to see him like this so soon. He barely has time to don his confident persona and turn his charm on. “No, you’re just who I was looking for.”

Jungwoo looks stunned. “You were looking for me?”

Mark nods. “Mhm,” he says, resting his chin on his palm and blinking up at him, “I heard something about you.”

“Oh god,” Jungwoo groans. “Who told you what about me?”

Mark decides to omit Jisung’s name because thinking of that little twerp is going to kill his mood and ruin his momentum, “Who told me doesn’t matter. But he told me there was a hot librarian and that was enough for me to come down and try and find you.”

Jungwoo looks like he’s thinking really hard about what to say next, and Mark almost teases him about it. Jungwoo cuts him off, and what he says makes Mark get hot all over.

“You’d think you’d be a little more careful when releasing information like that.”

Mark’s best-selling novel, Fifty Four Steps, had been about Bang Chan, the director of the FBI, and his struggles to capture the elusive last member of a long dismantled gang. They’d run into each other several times on missions, but Chan had never managed to get his hands on him. The culmination of the story is about three quarters of the way through, when said criminal Lee Minho is arrested and taken in for questioning. Through a lot of reverse psychology that Mark had struggled to write, Minho gets Chan to reveal the whereabouts of his gang members. He delivers that line, then proceeds to fuck Chan against the walls of the interrogation room.

It’s Mark’s roughest, raunchiest scene to date, and just thinking about it makes his cheeks flame. Having it said directly to him is something else entirely. He feels like a hormonal teenager again when he feels his cock stiffen in his sweats.

“How do you know about that?” he says after swallowing several times.

Jungwoo gives him a blank look. “I’m a librarian, Mark. And a fan. That book is my favorite,” Jungwoo leans closer, and Mark wonders where all of this confidence came from. “The way you write sexual tension is very...palpable. I’ve always wanted to say that sentence. I never thought I’d get to say it to the author himself.”

Mark, not to be outdone, gives a small smile. “Is that your way of telling me that you want to fuck me against a wall?”

“That depends,” Jungwoo responds, without missing a beat.

“On what?”

“If you would let me,” Jungwoo says, leaning back in his chair.

Mark takes a minute to think about it. He was still a little sore from the number Yukhei had done on him, and he really did not plan to bottom for a librarian, but the recitation of his own filth back to him had kind of jumbled his thoughts. Mark would take anything he was given.

In this moment, the smug grin falls off of Jungwoo’s face. He starts fidgeting with his hands, and Mark can tell that he’s wondering if he got it all wrong.

“Only if you want to, of course,” Jungwoo rushes out. “Oh my god, I was so forward,” he whines to himself, covering his face with his hands. “What’s wrong with me?”

Mark takes one of Jungwoo’s bright yellow sweater paws and brings it down so his face is partially showing. “It was kind of hot,” he says.

“It was?” Jungwoo asks, sounding shy. Mark nearly gets whiplash by how quickly Jungwoo snaps back and forth.

“Yes,” Mark confirms. “Now, if I do recall correctly, you said you wanted to fuck me.”

“Come on,” Jungwoo says, standing up. Mark leaves his bookbag at the table, taking the librarian’s outstretched hand. It’s a university; no one is going to risk a scholarship just to steal a bag, so Mark feels safe leaving it there.

Jungwoo flashes all ten of his fingers in the direction of the other person at the front desk—the amount of minutes he’ll be gone, Mark supposes—and he shows Jungwoo two thumbs up in return. He leads him to a room marked Personnel Only, then Mark’s back is pressed against the closed door and they’re kissing.

Jungwoo’s lips are about as soft and the rest of him looks, and Mark sighs in contentment. Even though Jungwoo is already taller than him, he runs a hand over the column of Mark’s throat, tipping his head back even further. Mark lets him, baring his neck, and his hands go to grab at the yellow fabric of Jungwoo’s sweater when he presses tiny, barely there kisses against Mark’s jugular.

“Take it off,” Mark whines, tugging gently. “Off.”

“How am I supposed to say no to that?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling away to get rid of his clothes. He gets rid of Mark’s shirt as well, and he presses his chest right up against Mark’s own. The younger lets out a breathy moan when there’s friction against his nipples. Jungwoo tries to suppress his laughter.

“You’re so cute,” he says, leaving Mark to walk further into the room. Mark follows, but stops his movements to watch Jungwoo undressed. While he’s not a huge, muscled beefcake like the Yukhei, or the guy at the desk (or Daniel, his mind unhelpfully supplies), Jungwoo is tall and lean, easy on the eyes.

Mark looks around the room. The fluorescent lights above them are dim, but he can still see Jungwoo so it doesn’t matter too much. It seems to be a storage room, filled with several bookshelves. He picks up one of them and cringes when it’s one of Jisung’s novels.

Even among all the organization, there seems to be a book on every surface in the room. So when Mark sees a counter suspiciously empty, he walks over and leans against it.

When Mark starts to take off his own pants, something falls out of his pocket and onto the floor. He reaches his hand out to retrieve it, but Jungwoo gets there first. He snatches the packet of lube and tears it open for himself.

Mark gives him a bewildered look. “I thought you were going to fuck me?”

“Oh, believe me, I am,” Jungwoo says, bracing himself against the wall before entering a lubed finger into himself. He sighs prettily, and Mark doesn’t do anything but stare. Jungwoo’s rolling his hips forward, tantalizing and teasing, and Mark watches as one finger becomes two, and two becomes three.

Jungwoo doesn’t even bother blowing Mark; he’s still on shift, and this is supposed to be quick and fast. Mark doesn’t particularly mind, especially when Jungwoo spits in his own hand and uses it to stroke him to full hardness.  

“Get on the counter,” Jungwoo commands, and Mark side eyes it. It is large enough to fit both of them, yes, but it looks aged and maybe a little unstable.

“What if we break it?” Mark asks, considering all outcomes.

“Then we pay for it,” Jungwoo replies, pushing Mark back until his waist hits the edge. “But it won’t break. It’s been in here for almost two hundred years and has lived through three earthquakes and a tsunami.”

Mark has more than enough money from his last book, so he decides to risk it. He shrugs, hopping up onto the counter. The marble is a little on the cooler side, and Mark gasps loudly when the skin of his back comes in contact with it.

Jungwoo climbs up right after him, knees caging Mark’s naked hips. He leans down to give Mark a kiss, and the writer takes it and returns it in earnest. Their lips make a wet sound when they part, and Jungwoo smiles against Mark’s mouth.

“You make pretty sounds,” Jungwoo says, breath fanning over Mark’s lips. “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

“How about you do something now?” Mark says, raising his hips to grind his hardness against the small of Jungwoo’s back.

Jungwoo puts his weight on Mark’s hips so they fall back down to the countertop. “Stay still,” he says, demands, and Mark is ashamed of how he whimpers at the steely voice.

Even though they’re in a secluded room, they’re still on the silent floor. Any kind of sound will travel. Jungwoo seems to know this, because he the way he rides Mark is slow and torturous, clearly in an effort to prevent any loud slapping noises. Mark watches the flexion of muscle in Jungwoo’s thighs in a state of awe, running his fingers all over them while Jungwoo raises and drops his hips.

Mark wants to do something, wants to grind up and make himself useful, but Jungwoo said to stay put so he’s going to stay put.

Of course, until Jungwoo runs his thumbs over Mark’s nipples.

Mark, caught completely off guard, moans loud and thrusts his hips up. The sound of their skin colliding seems to echo in the room and down the hall. Mark must have done something right, because Jungwoo clenches around him, features in his face going soft. The look is only there for half a second before his face hardens again, and there is a spike of real terror in Mark’s chest.

“You know, for someone so sexually sentient, you are extremely sensitive,” Jungwoo comments in a whisper. When Mark starts to answer, Jungwoo slots a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t tell you to speak.”

Mark quiets down, blinking owlishly. Jungwoo coos, stroking his fingers over Mark’s cheekbone.

“Can’t have you making any more noises like that. Someone will find us,” Jungwoo says. He’s close enough to see the younger’s pupils dilate in interest. He’s almost positive Mark wasn’t aware of how his body reacted.

Jungwoo’s unoccupied hand comes up to Mark’s chest, flicking a nipple harshly. “Is that what you like? Being found? Being watched?”

Mark sobs beneath Jungwoo’s hand, back arching. It hadn’t been something he’d thought about, not to this degree. The few times Donghyuck had walked in on him making out with Daniel on the couch had been exhilarating, sending pinpricks of something electric up his spine. It suddenly makes sense.

His mind drifts to the other handsome guy at the death floor desk, round eyes, rippling pectorals and all, walking in on Mark and Jungwoo when he so clearly saw them leave together. The thought makes his chest burn with shame.

“Look at you, Mark. You’re a fucking mess,” Jungwoo murmurs. Instead of lifting up like he previously had been, Jungwoo rolls his hips forward, and the muscles in Mark’s thighs tighten. Jungwoo runs his palm over them experimentally and is extremely pleased when they spasm under his touch.

“So responsive. It’s almost like you’ve never fucked someone before,” Jungwoo says, and Mark puts up a hell of a fight to not let his true reaction to that statement show up on his face. Apparently, he does a good job, because Jungwoo doesn’t make a snarky follow up statement.

Mark is wholly unsatisfied with the pace. All of his previous hookups had been hard and fast at some point, and the fact that this one isn’t is making him feel like his skin is twelve sizes too small. He’s so needy, but he doesn’t know how to express how much he wants without sounding embarrassingly whiny.

That kind of care ceases to exist when Jungwoo does something. Maybe he hits something in himself that he hadn’t touched before, but suddenly he’s moaning loudly and clenching around Mark. The squeeze takes the air out of Mark’s lungs and he gasps, reaching up to pull Jungwoo closer to his chest.

“Kiss me,” Mark rasps out, still struggling to breathe as long as Jungwoo’s hole flutters around him. “We can’t make noise so just—kiss me. Please.”

It’s hardly an offer Jungwoo can say no to. He tries, he really tries to kiss Mark, but they just end up panting into each other’s mouths while Jungwoo uses him to have his orgasm. He’s close, the steady motion of his hips targeting his prostate time and time again, and he’s getting sloppier by the second.

It’s Mark who reaches up to cover Jungwoo’s mouth this time, muffling his cry as he comes between their chests. If the clench before was maddening, this one was unbearable. Unrelenting too, like contractions, and Mark barely has time to pull out before he’s coming as well, covering Jungwoo’s ass and lower back.

There is an old cloth in the back room that Mark doesn’t entirely trust, but he uses it anyway because it was better than leaving all sticky and gross. Jungwoo cleans himself up as well, telling Mark to leave first so no one would be suspicious.

“Oh,” Jungwoo calls while Mark’s hand is on the doorknob, “Good luck on your next novel!” he says, making a ‘fighting!’ motion with his hand.

Mark blushes and inclines his head in a bow, something he had failed to do when they first met. “I’ll see you around Jungwoo.”





(When Mark is passing the desk on his way back downstairs, he catches the tail end of a conversation between Jungwoo and the other guy at the desk.

“You were gone for half an hour,” he sulks. “You owe me lunch.”)

Chapter Text

“Catch me up,” Donghyuck says. They’re sitting in some kind of sleazy bar-restaurant fusion called Wet Horse that Donghyuck said he frequented in college. Mark doesn’t really mind the atmosphere all that much, because it’s for good reason. Kim Doyoung, just finishing up promotions in the States, is returning back to Seoul for an ‘underground performance’ before the official start of his tour. Doyoung is a ballad singer, so it’s a little strange for him to be here, but no one complains.

Mark and Doyoung have been texting for weeks now, since Renjun’s party, but Mark thinks it’s better to lay low. He might still be a little starstruck by Doyoung.

“I took your advice,” he says. “Had sex with a nerd in the library.”

Donghyuck sips his beer, giving Mark a disapproving look. “Just any nerd?”

“Nope,” Mark replies, cleaning off one of the chicken bones. “With a librarian, a big fan. On the silent floor .”

Donghyuck laughs at that. “You bookworms are so lucky. Imagine the shit storm if I slept with a fan.”

Mark scoffs and takes a sip of his own cola. “You wouldn’t even want to. You’re like...on reserve.”

The younger’s eyes widen. “Wha—?”

“Good evening Seoul!” the MC greets the crowd. “Who is ready to see Doyoung?”

The crowd goes crazy, and the MC laughs out loud.

“You’re going to have to wait a little longer. Now wait a minute,” he says when the audience starts to groan, “We have a ten minute set from a brand new artist! It’s his first ever live performance, so we really have to uplift him and make him feel at home in Wet Horse. Can we do that?”

The audience perks up at the mention of new talent. “Yes!” they collectively yell back.

The MC smiles. “Perfect. Give it up for Zhong Chenle!”

“Huh?” Donghyuck says.

Chenle walks out, his hair now a pale blond. He’s wearing a huge black jacket and metallic pants, looking so different from the first version Mark saw of him. The most jarring thing is that he has an electric guitar in his hand.

“What the hell is he doing?” Donghyuck hisses.

Mark doesn’t understand his reaction. Chenle is an up and coming artist. Wouldn’t publicity be good for him until he officially debuts?

He voices this, and Donghyuck shakes his head at him. “Publicity is good, yes. But this is technically busking, and all busking has to be on the authority of SM. He could get in trouble with the company,” he explains.

“Maybe there was an exception,” Mark tries.

“Lee Sooman doesn’t make exceptions, especially not for trainees. I learned that the hard way,” Donghyuck says, voice hard, and it makes Mark wonder what the hell Donghyuck has gone through in that company.

Mark lays a palm on Donghyuck’s arm. “Let’s just see what he does. He might surprise you.”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes. “I don’t get surprised. I—” he gets cut off by the first strum of Chenle’s guitar.

It’s one of Donghyuck’s songs. His first hit, actually. Mark can see the exact moment where Donghyuck eyes soften and he becomes touched.

It’s a more rock-oriented rendition, but Chenle’s voice is clear and sweet to juxtapose it. A lot of the audience is singing along, and it’s times like these where Mark feels the gravity of Donghyuck’s popularity, his impact.

He feels it increase tenfold when Donghyuck, in a fit of passion, stands up on the fucking table and belts out the next line. He doesn’t have a microphone, but he doesn’t need one—he’s always been exceptionally good at projecting his voice.

The table they are sitting at is towards the back, skewed to the right, but everyone in the venue turns in their direction. There’s a surprised squeak of “Haechan!”, then his name is being chanted by everyone in the restaurant. Someone offers Donghyuck his hand, and he walks all the way up to the stage to where a stunned Chenle is. Donghyuck whispers something in his ear, and the trainee starts singing again, a small smile playing on his lips.

He doesn’t really seem to mind that his spotlight has dimmed a little next to Donghyuck, who grins brightly and waves to his fans as he sings back up. Mark will never get tired of seeing Donghyuck perform. His voice is beautiful and melodic, and he sings and dances with so much surety. This has been his dream for so long, and to see him fulfill it makes Mark exceptionally proud.

Mark’s eyes sweep around the restaurant to gauge the reactions of the people inside, and he nearly inhales his chicken bone when he sees Jisung at a table in the very back, sitting with a now dark-haired Jaemin. Almost recognizable, but not quite. Mark could see that megawatt smile from kilometers away.

They don’t seem to notice him, which is good because Mark hadn’t anticipated third wheeling or small talk. He turns his attention back to the stage, where Chenle and Donghyuck finish up the song, and the restaurant vibrates with the uproarious applause.

Donghyuck sneaks back to his seat just in time to hear Chenle spoil a little bit of his debut track. Mark doesn’t alert him of Jisung and Jaemin’s presence because he’s not really in the mood to be deserted.

Chenle finishes up his set with a bright smile and a bow, and Donghyuck breathes a sigh of relief. “That could have gone way worse.”

“Okay!” The MC says, taking the stage again. The audience begins buzzing because they know what time it is. “Now who’s ready for Doyoung?”

The bar resumes it’s shaking, and the MC cowers away from the noise. “I won’t keep you any longer. Wet Horse, give it up for Kim Doyoung!”

Doyoung walks onto the stage and Mark’s jaw drops open.

The last time he had seen Doyoung, he had on a t-shirt, leather jacket and loose trousers, and his hair was purple. Mark gulps as this Doyoung before him presents himself in an entirely different manner.

This Doyoung had on skin tight jeans and a form-fitting turtleneck, showing off how thick and sculpted his chest really is. He’s wearing a knee-length trench coat, and there’s a small silver chain hanging from his ear. And above all, his hair was black.

A Korean person having black hair isn’t exactly special, but Kim Doyoung is the person in question. The same artist who insisted on dying his hair like idols did in order to stand out among other ballad singers. He hasn’t had dark hair in about five years, and by the looks of it, no one was prepared. Mark wants to laugh when a girl faints to his left, but he’s honestly not that much better off.

Donghyuck whistles, low and quiet. “Talk about a transformation.”

Doyoung shyly adjusts the mic stand to his height as the whooping continues on, but they cease to a halt when he holds his palm up. A hush falls over the crowd, and Mark admires how poised Doyoung is, how much control he has.

“Why is my applause so loud? I’m just a ballad singer,” Doyoung murmurs into the microphone, and words of encouragement that Mark cannot make out are yelled at the artist.

Doyoung gestures to the side of the stage where he came in. “Give it up one more time for Zhong Chenle everyone. He’s a gem isn’t he?”

More screams, more applause. Doyoung sighs. “You guys are just going to agree with everything I say right?”

The audience confirms his statement with more cheers and Doyoung laughs, putting his hands on his hips.

“I did some experimenting in the States. Musical experimenting,” he emphasizes when people in the crowd start whistling. “You guys know I don’t like women.”

That...was not something Mark had been expecting. Despite a gay couple being the country’s favorite, Korea is still very conservative and making statements like that in the open was unheard of. Wet Horse must be some kind of safe haven.

“Between me and the sixty of you in here right now, the song you’re about to hear is something unheard by anyone else but the producers I worked with. I played around with the style a little bit so Haechan,” Doyoung says, looking for him in the crowd, “You are not the only pop singer in here tonight.”

Doyoung finds him and Donghyuck inclines his beer in his direction when they make eye contact. Mark is looking at his phone, so he doesn’t see the smile that spreads over Doyoung’s face when his eyes slide over to him.

“This is What We Talkin Bout, ” Doyoung says, and the instrumental flows out of the speakers. Even though Doyoung’s voice is lovely, it sounds like traditional American pop music, nothing particularly special, but it’s the lyrics that make Mark look up.

I know that you’re classy, baby, oh, I know that you’re nasty, baby, oh,” Doyoung says, voice like velvet. Mark feels a little dumbstruck when he sees Doyoung looking directly at him as he sings. It’s a little bit strange, because out of all the people in the restaurant, Doyoung is looking at him, some pesky fan who ruined his leather jacket.

The crowd, who had just reacted positively to Donghyuck’s performance, starts to wail when Doyoung starts rapping and manages to stay on beat. Everyone’s on their feet, bodies swaying to the beat, and they stay that way until the last few bars of the song plays and Doyoung sings his soulful adlibs.

Doyoung watches the crowd in awe as they applaud him loudly. He presses a hand to his heart in a show of gratitude. “I didn’t expect you all to react so positively. Is the song good?”

He is met by another wave of loud hollering. He holds his hands up in front of himself to quiet them down. “That’s all I have for you guys today. Goodnight Wet Horse!”

Doyoung exits the stage, and the lights go back to normal. Donghyuck, as observant as ever, turns to Mark with a grin playing at his lips. “You seem to have acquired a new hookup?”

Mark laughs nervously. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Donghyuck says pointedly, swatting his arm. “Doyoung was watching you the entire time.”

“Me?” Mark squeaks. He had known about Doyoung looking at him for those two lines, but he hadn’t noticed for the rest of the song.

“Yes, you. He—Junmyeon,” Donghyuck cuts himself off, greeting the man who he recognizes as Doyoung’s bodyguard. Mark whips around and greets the tall, handsome man who had come up behind the two of them while they were talking.

“Hey, Haechan,” Junmyeon says. He turns his gaze to Mark, “Doyoung would like to see you in his room.”

Donghyuck makes some kind of noise akin to laughter, shoving at Mark’s shoulder. “Oh, you’re so gonna get fucked,” he giggles, ignoring Junmyeon’s look of alarm.

“Uh, sure,” Mark says awkwardly in response to Junmyeon. Wordlessly he stands, giving Donghyuck the middle finger before following Junmyeon. The guard opens a door for him, ushering him inside. Mark flinches when the door slams shut behind him.

Doyoung is standing on the other side of the room, pouring what Mark recognizes as scotch into a short glass full of ice. He swirls the liquid around in the cup.

“Mark, hello,” Doyoung greets.

“Hi,” Mark says, nervous out of his mind.

“Come sit,” Doyoung requests, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “It has been quite a while since we have seen each other in person,” the singer comments once Mark has sat down.

“I’ve taken care of the dry cleaning,” Mark blurts, mouth with a mind of his own. He wants to bury his head in his hands when Doyoung laughs at his response.

“I’m not that concerned about that jacket. I’m concerned about the revelation I have made,” Doyoung tells him.

Mark twists his torso so that it faces Doyoung. “And what revelation is that?”

“You’re Haechan’s friend. The Virgin,” Doyoung tells him.

Mark’s face goes to fire. He wonders how many people Donghyuck has told about this.

He scratches the back of his head. “Not exactly a virgin anymore but...I guess?”

Doyoung lowers his glass so that it rests on his thigh. Mark forces his eyes not to follow the motion. “Have you ever been submissive, Mark?”

“Uh,” is all Mark’s brain can come up with.

“The whole nation seemed to be obsessed with you, so I bought one of your novels to read on the plane,” Doyoung explains. He brings his glass back up to his mouth, speaking again before he drinks. “Close, but no cigar. I could teach you some things.”

Mark swallows thickly, hyperaware of the way Doyoung drags his eyes up and down his frame. “You...want to teach me? About being submissive?”

Doyoung nods shortly, and Mark twitches in his seat, beginning to fidget at the mere idea. He can feel it, he can feel himself giving in, but any small amount of resistance goes out of the window when Doyoung says, very calmly, “Stop moving.”

Mark muscles freeze in place, obedient as ever. Doyoung chuckles, murmuring under his breath, “Looks like you want to be taught almost as much as I want to teach you.

“Can I touch you?” Doyoung asks, raising his hand to Mark’s face when the writer consents. Doyoung uses his index finger to tilt Mark’s chin up. He slowly turns Mark’s head to the side, perusing all of the angles and planes of his face. “Oh,” Doyoung breathes, “You’re so pretty. I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Mark promptly feels all the air leave his lungs at the compliment. Doyoung wraps a hand around Mark’s waist and pulls him into his lap. He breathes the air Mark exhales before leaning forward and slotting their lips together.

Mark thought this is the one part that he would be familiar with, but even kissing Doyoung feels different. It’s slow, hot, like molten lava. Mark is a whole new type of affected, and he starts to rut his hips against Doyoung’s, looking for friction.

Doyoung isn’t having it. He digs his fingers into Mark’s waist, hard. “Stay put. Greedy little thing,” he chides.

Mark can do nothing but whimper, feeling the temperature in the room rise about ten degrees. He does as he’s told, watching as Doyoung’s features arrange themselves in a way that looks extremely pleased.

Doyoung is just looking at Mark sit there, hands folded in his lap, not making eye contact. Mark’s so cute.

“Get up,” Doyoung says.

Mark obeys, but a crease forms between his eyebrows. He wonders if he figured out a way to fuck this up for himself. “Why?”

Doyoung stands up to refill his glass. “Go find Haechan and tell him you’ll be going home with me tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

Mark swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay with me.”

Doyoung nods, taking a long swig of his drink. Mark just watches.

Doyoung cocks an eyebrow at him. “Why are you still standing here?”

The younger blinks then turns to head back into the main area. He looks at the table he had been sitting at when he arrives, but it’s been vacated. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist for Mark to figure out where Donghyuck’s gone.

His best friend is sitting on Jaemin’s lap at Jisung and Jaemin’s table. He pouts when Mark approaches. “That was fast. Did you really finish in ten minutes?”

Mark waves to Jisung and bows to Jaemin before pulling Donghyuck aside. “I’m...um…”

Donghyuck pats him on the back. “Come on, spit it out.”

“You can head out without me. I’m gonna be staying with Doyoung for the night,” Mark says shyly.

Donghyuck smiles real slow-like, and he claps Mark on the back. “Go get him!”

Mark punches him on the arm. “Would you lower your voice please?”

“Sorry!” Donghyuck says. He then stage whispers, “Go get him!”

Mark rolls his eyes and turns to walk away before Donghyuck catches him by the sleeve of his floral patterned shirt. “Do you have a way to get home tomorrow?”

Mark shakes his phone at Donghyuck. “I can just call a taxi if Doyoung doesn’t take me home,” he says.

Donghyuck relaxes and ruffles Mark’s hair. “Okay then. Have fun!”

Junmyeon, who has followed Mark, is right there when he turns around. Mark startles, letting out a little yelp that makes Donghyuck laugh at him and pat his ass reassuringly.

“Doyoung is waiting for you in his car. I will guide you there,” Junmyeon says, stiff and formal.

Mark follows him out to the car, and he slides into the backseat. Doyoung slides the partition up, and Mark feels himself start to sweat.

Doyoung seems to notice this, because he huffs a laugh. “Calm down, Mark. We are just going to talk about what you like.”

“What I like?” Mark echoes.

“Yes,” Doyoung says. “Or do you not know?”

Mark shakes his head, suddenly feeling extremely childish. “I mean I have a vague idea, but I have only tried one thing.”

“And what thing is that?” Doyoung asks, leaning back.

“Overstimulation,” Mark murmurs near silently, embarrassed.

“Speak up,” Doyoung says, firm.

“Overstimulation,” Mark repeats, louder. He can’t meet Doyoung’s eyes, but he does get a good look at his face. Doyoung does a terrible job concealing his surprise.

“And how did you like that?” he asks, voice measured.

“I loved it,” Mark tells him. “I’ve only done it once though. I knocked out for like twelve hours afterwards.”

Doyoung hums. “Do you like being hit?”

Mark wrinkles his nose. “On my ass sure, but not anywhere else.”

“Edged?”

“Yes.”

“Tied up?”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Praise? Pet names?”

Mark goes hot under the collar. “Um. Yes.”

Doyoung, ever observant, picks up on the change right away. “Oh, that’s what you like the most.”

Mark refuses to acknowledge it, and Doyoung continues on.

“What about degradation? Do you like being called a whore? A filthy little cock slut? A—”

Mark shivers despite the warmth in the car. “Please. Stop. I’ll implode.”

Doyoung shrugs his shoulders. “Is there anything you absolutely do not want? Hard no’s?”

Mark takes a moment to think about it. “Other than being beaten, no. Do whatever you want to me.”

“Choose your words carefully, Mark,” Doyoung warns, but is cut off by the clearing of a throat.

“We are here,” Doyoung announces. They exit the car, but not before Mark can utter a cheery “thank you, Mister Junmyeon!” before Doyoung puts a hand on his waist and guides him into the apartment.

It’s a studio, but spacious than most. There are vinyl records hanging up all over the walls, even with no record player in sight. Doyoung pushes at Mark’s shoulder until he falls onto the bed.

“Don’t look at my apartment,” he says. “Just look at me.”

Mark swallows the lump that forms in his throat. “Okay.”

Doyoung rights himself, giving Mark some room to breathe. Mark doesn’t want it, and his arms shoot out to grasp at the fabric of Doyoung’s shirt. Doyoung comes forward willingly, but leans in close to whisper a warning against Mark’s lips.

“Do not touch me without permission.”

Mark recoils so fast he nearly sprains his neck. “Yes, sir.”

Again with the ‘yes sir’. Mark wonders why ‘sir’ is his go-to word whenever he feels intimidated.

“That’s not necessary,” Doyoung chuckles as he rids Mark of his shirt.

“Is there anything you want me to call you?” Mark asks, eyes bright.

“Doyoung is fine,” the artist murmurs. “Anything you would like to call me is fine as well. This night is all about you.”

Mark heats up at that. He’s always been more about service, more about giving than receiving. Doyoung’s statement feels foreign.

“You said being restricted was a yes? Edging as well?” Doyoung asks.

Mark knows Doyoung heard him the first time. He is almost certain that this is Doyoung’s way of asking if Mark is a hundred percent, absolutely sure he wants to do this, and the answer is a resounding, unwavering yes.

“Yes, both of those,” Mark says, making sure he is making eye contact with Doyoung when he says, “I trust you to take care of me.”

The corner of Doyoung’s mouth lifts up. “Well isn’t that something?”

Mark lets himself get stripped naked, watching with a small smile as Doyoung struggles to peel Mark’s jeans down his legs. Once they are off and on the floor across the room somewhere, Doyoung stands up and takes off his belt. He snaps the leather together, laughing when Mark startles.

“I’m just kidding, Mark. Relax. I can see your nerves,” he says. He bends down over to rummage around in one of the side drawers.

“You can?” Mark asks.

“Mhm,” Doyoung hums, then shouts an “aha!” when he comes across what he was looking for. He stands up, brandishing—

A vibrator. He’s holding a hitachi massage wand in one hand and his belt in the other, looking at Mark with a devious smile.

“Bring it on,” Mark says, doing a bad job at pretending that he’s wholly unphased. He’s never used a vibrator on himself before, never working up enough courage to buy one.

Doyoung just shakes his head. “You’re insane, kid,” he says. He rests the head of the toy right up against the head of Mark’s dick, then wraps the belt around his thighs, holing them tightly together. Mark notices, a little delayed, that there are far more holes on this belt than any other he’s ever seen or owned.

“Try to move,” Doyoung requests, and his smile widens when Mark tries and is unsuccessful. He pulls a silky rope from his dresser as well, and ties Mark’s hands above his head, registering him completely immobile.

Mark feels embarrassed from being on display like this. Doyoung looks him up and down, gaze predatory, and Mark feels his heart begin to beat faster in his chest.

The beating increases tenfold when Doyoung gets right in Mark’s face and says, “Should we get started?”

The whole playful banter they had going on; it hadn’t been apart of the scene. Doyoung had made himself personable to make Mark relax, and it had worked. Now, Mark realizes, Doyoung is going to take on his dominant character and make him want to submit.

The ‘making him want to submit’ part isn’t entirely accurate. Mark usually wants to submit to tall, well built men anyway.

Mark is admiring the baby blue vibrator and how it’s wireless to prevent tangled situations when it suddenly turns on. Mark’s back arches and his eyes flicker up to Doyoung, who is sitting next to the bed. There’s a remote in his hand, likely controlling the toy, resting near his thigh. Mark is pleased to see that Doyoung is hard, his tight jeans doing nothing to hide his erection.

“I can see you looking at my dick, baby,” Doyoung says. “How about we make you focus on something else, hm?”

Doyoung presses a button on the remote, and the vibrations are suddenly much, much more intense. Mark squirms around aimlessly, moaning out loud at the sensation. He’s absolutely restless; even with his thighs held together by Doyoung’s belt, he continues to twist and turn away from the onslaught of feelings. The tip of his cute little cock spits precome, and Doyoung stands, walking over to Mark before sweeps up the mess with the pad of a single index finger, lapping at the mess.

“You’re so cute,” Doyoung says, moving Mark’s hair out of his face so he can see him better. Despite Mark’s current position, everything he had ever done, there is something so condescending, so embarrassing about that word that makes Mark’s face inflame.

Doyoung shoves his middle and ring fingers in Mark's mouth, cutting off his speech. "You're being too loud, sweetheart. Shut up and suck."

Mark's eyes widen, and he tries to speak around the digits. "But Doyoung—"

"I said," Doyoung singsongs, leaning in closer, " suck. "

Mark whimpers but does as he's told. It makes Doyoung smile a little.

"Good boy. Keep being a quiet little baby for me. We don't want Junmyeon to hear, now do we?"

So he had caught on to how Mark was observing the other man. Mark, who was previously holding eye contact, very, very slowly lowers his eyes and Doyoung is so terribly amused. "You do want him to hear, don't you baby?"

Mark's shoulders are ridiculously broad, so how he manages to cave in on himself is beyond Doyoung's mental capacity.

"Say it, Mark."

The demand lacks the sweet lexicon of virtually all of Doyoung’s other statements, and it is especially condescending here; Mark with his thighs belted together, a smattering of red staining his cheeks, head hanging low in an obvious display of shame, being forced to admit that he feels sexual attraction to someone who has looked at him no more than three times.

Mark is completely and utterly humiliated as he opens his mouth to say, "I want Junmyeon to hear how desperate I am."

“How precious. Such a cute little baby,” Doyoung coos, tracing his fingertips up Mark’s side lightly. The younger shivers at both the words themselves and at Doyoung’s tone, and tries to move away from the touch. Doyoung’s fingers continue their path upwards to Mark’s nipples, where he runs the pad of his thumb over the hardened bud. Mark’s back arches and he throws his head back in a tiny little whimper, and he can’t help but feel like his body has betrayed him.

"Doyoung, it's too much,” he gasps out, chest heaving.

Mark’s eyes are closed but he can hear the smile in Doyoung’s voice when he answers. "Of course it's too much sweetheart, that's the whole point."

He punctuates the sentence with an adjustment of the vibrations, increasing the intensity. Mark’s thighs spasm on their own accord, an action Doyoung has learned signifies and impending orgasm, and he has to roll his lips into his mouth to prevent his smile from splitting his face.

"Already?" Doyoung muses, entertained by Mark's neediness so early.

Mark doesn’t answer, preoccupied with trying not to come. Doyoung walks to the other side of the room, and Mark watches him pour himself another glass of scotch. He swirls the liquid in the glass before walking back over to the bed to stand over Mark.

"Are you going to come?" Doyoung tries again, ever patient.

"Maybe,” is what Mark is able to choke out.

"No, you won't," Doyoung says, turning the vibrations off completely. The pathetic noise that pushes its way through Mark's lips is music to the artist’s ears.

“Doyoung, please.

The elder sits back against the foot of his bed, taking a sip of his drink. Mark doesn’t really know why he gets so worked up over the image of Doyoung drinking his scotch, but it’s not really that hard to figure out. It’s the nonchalance, the casualness of the behavior while Mark falls apart on the bed. It says, Your struggle amuses me. It says, My drink holds my attention longer than you do. But most of all, it says, clear as day, You are beneath me.

“Please, what?” Doyoung asks, cocky and obnoxious. Mark wants to roll his eyes, but he doubts that would bend Doyoung to his will, so he refrains.

“Please let me come,” Mark says, putting on his best pair of puppy dog eyes.

Doyoung scoffs at him. “Did you think that would work on me?”

“It was worth a shot,” Mark mumbles dejectedly. “What do you want?”

“What I really want,” Doyoung begins, leaning forward, “is to hold you here in this exact position all night long, teetering on the edge of an orgasm, but not let you come.”

Mark suddenly regrets asking.

“But I don’t think you have that kind of stamina,” Doyoung continues on, and Mark has to clamp his lips shut from protesting, saying he, in fact, does have that kind of stamina. He doesn’t, and would end up sobbing after being edged just once, and they both are aware of it.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. It seems like he was expecting Mark to say something. “What, no comment?” he taunts.

“No argument,” Mark says. “No use in trying to refute it when we both know I’d come if you looked at me for too long.”

The singer tilts his head to the side in amusement. “Is that so?”

“It’s an...exaggeration, but not that far off from the truth,” Mark says, cheeks heating up.

“How long do you think it would take you to come if I decided to blow you?” Doyoung asks, voice light.

Mark’s thigh muscles constrict. “I don’t know,” he chokes out. “Not long.”

“What if I fingered you while I did it?”

Mark laughs nervously. “I’m starting to think these aren’t rhetorical questions.”

“Smart cookie,” Doyoung coos. He places his glass on the bedside table, then quickly undoes the buckle on the belt around Mark’s thighs. They automatically spread apart, accommodating for Doyoung to get between them, and the vibrator falls to the bed.

Doyoung unties Mark’s hands and presses the vibrator into them. “I want you to hold this to your nipples.”

Mark hums his acknowledgement, and Doyoung throws the belt onto the floor. He reaches past Mark to grab the lube from a drawer next to his bed, and proceeds to wet his fingers. Mark was never aware of how beautiful Doyoung’s hands are, and the sight of them makes him shake in anticipation.

One of Doyoung’s fingers circles his rim, and he’s used to the whole ‘relax your muscles and don’t panic’ routine, so Doyoung’s first two fingers enter with no fanfare. The third makes him gasp, and he so badly wants to push his hips down on it, but he remembers how Doyoung reacted at the bar and stops himself.

Torturously slow, Doyoung takes the tip of Mark’s cock into his mouth. This tiniest of actions makes Mark whine and grab the bed sheets. He hadn’t realized how sensitive the vibrator made him, but he’s not going to last very long. It kind of makes him sad, because Doyoung’s mouth is hot and wet and feels like heaven around him.

Be still, be still, be still Mark chants to himself as Doyoung sucks him off, but it’s so difficult. Doyoung isn’t even using his hands, the blowjob he’s giving Mark all tongue and throat and lips. He reaches to his side to grab the vibrator’s discarded remote, turning the toy back on. The feeling makes Mark arch his back and spread his legs wider, whimpering pathetically, but he holds it against his chest like Doyoung told him to.

Doyoung tosses the remote on the floor, pulling back off of Mark to suckle around the head. He finally brings his unoccupied hand up to stroke his dick, curling his fingers inside of him, and the look he gives Mark is absolutely sinful.

“You’re...good at multitasking,” Mark breathes, chest heaving and voice throaty.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Doyoung whispers, speaking into Mark’s dick. It’s stupid, but the way Mark moans is even stupider.

“I’ve wanted to have you exactly like this for me since the first moment I saw you,” Doyoung reveals. Mark gasps in disbelief, but also because of the tip of Doyoung’s middle finger rubbing against his prostate.

“Since the party?” Mark asks.

Doyoung has to change the angle of his arm in order to mouth against Mark’s sac, but he manages, sucking one into his mouth while he draws his fingers back. He released it with a pop. “Nope. Since I saw you parading around on my TV with your asshole ex. I wanted you for myself. I wanted to fuck you and ruin you exactly like this.”

Oh,” Mark says. Everything Doyoung is saying to him, every feeling he is subjecting Mark to is entirely too much, and not even the mention of Daniel can make Mark’s dick wane. He sobs, throat closing up.

“Doyoung I can’t—” Mark cries.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to come, I can’t hold it,” Mark admits, full of shame.

Doyoung clicks his tongue at Mark. “Did I ever tell you to hold it, baby boy?”

Mark takes a few seconds to process that statement, but it doesn’t seem to be fast enough for Doyoung. He pulls his fingers from Mark’s hole and holds his hand out for the vibrator, which Mark mindlessly hands to him. Doyoung presses it into the base of Mark’s dick this time, using his other hand to stroke the length. He presses kisses to Mark’s sac, tongue coming to swipe over it hotly.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Doyoung says, and that’s all it takes. Mark’s muscles lock up as he comes, and halfway through his orgasm they unfreeze and he starts shaking. Doyoung strokes him through it, milking him dry, and Mark is fairly sure he blacks out.

By the time he focuses on anything again, Doyoung is wiping him down and helping him sit up against the headboard. When he sees Mark’s eyes flutter open, he sits back, giving him a gentle smile.

“You came a lot,” he says lightly, and Mark somehow summons the energy to laugh.

“Are you going home or staying here?” Doyoung asks him next.

Mark thinks about it. He doesn’t want to sleep on the sheets he dirtied up himself. “I would like to go home. I’m not sure if I can stand though.”

“Can I trust you around Junmyeon?” Doyoung jokes, and Mark’s cheeks color. “He can drive you home and help you to your door. You just have to ask him.”

Ask the hot security guard to help me to my door after he knows I just fucked his boss? No thanks.

“Of course,” Mark says, smiling. He staggers to his knees and starts to redress himself. Before he walks out of the door, he turns around to look at Doyoung, who is sitting on his bed, watching Mark dress in silence.

“Thank you for tonight, Doyoung,” Mark says sincerely.

Doyoung, still dressed in clothes that Mark notices he never even took off, lifts his glass of scotch in farewell.

“Don’t mention it.”

 

 

 

 

(Jisung isn't there when Mark arrives home, but he's not surprised anymore.)

Chapter Text

A week and a half later, Mark waddles home after his meeting with Yukhei and Taeil, neck painted with bruises that were already fading. He hadn’t really expected either of them to go along with his suggestion, but it works out in his favor and Mark can officially say he’s had a threesome.

It’s around 1 AM when he gets up to his apartment, and he’s not even surprised to find Donghyuck sitting in there on the couch. He’s wrapped himself around Jisung, and that leads Mark to believe that he’s asleep, because Jisung would never let anyone that close in full consciousness.

Donghyuck nods a greeting at him. “Mission Un-Virgin?” he asks, and the peculiar nickname makes Mark smile.

He sits down on the other couch. “Yeah,” he confirms, untying his shoelaces.

Donghyuck cocks his head to the side. “Who was it this time?”

Mark freezes where he was untying the second knot, head still down. “Promise you won’t kill me?”

“Oh no, ” Donghyuck wails dramatically, but it’s quiet, so he doesn’t wake Jisung. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I met with Yukhei—”

“Again? Is it really that goo—”

“—and Taeil,” Mark finishes, blushing faintly.

Donghyuck gags. “I literally hate you, Mark.”

Jisung begins to stir at the retching sound so close to his ear. He blinks his eyes open slowly. Mark comes into vision first, and he raises his hand in a half wave. “Hi, Mark hyung,” he greets, voice gravelly from slumber.

Mark pats his head softly. Jisung groans, turning over and burying his head into Donghyuck’s chest. Donghyuck appears shocked, and he strokes Jisung’s hair absentmindedly as the younger’s breath slows down as he falls back asleep.

“Guess he’s too tired to remember that we’re supposed to be hiding this,” Donghyuck murmurs.

Mark had more or less known that the two of them were romantically involved, but now he has confirmation. He tries and fails to keep his face carefully blank.

“Hiding what?”

Donhyuck sucks his teeth. “Don’t play dumb, Mark. We’re not exactly subtle.”

“Okay,” Mark relents, holding his palms up. “But why would you hide whatever you have going on?” he asks, completely lost.

“He thought you’d be mad at us. For liking each other, I mean,” Donghyuck says quietly. “He said he wouldn’t go out with me unless we had your blessing.”

Mark’s neck draws back. “Jisung said that? The very same Jisung who makes fun of me for his own enjoyment? He wants my blessing?”

Donghyuck looks between the two of them fondly. “You’re very important to the both of us, Mark.”

There’s a strange warmth blossoming in Mark’s chest. After a short moment, he realizes it’s love.

Mark didn’t really have the most pleasant experience with his parents in his adolescence. All of the love he ever experienced came from an outside source; Donghyuck, Jisung, maybe Daniel for a little bit. Mark has an older brother, but he fled back to Canada for college, leaving Mark to navigate his mid-to-late teenage years by himself.

Coming out had ended horribly, with Donghyuck acting as Mark’s anchor while he struggled to accept the rejection from his parents. It had been quite the bonding experience, and it hardened Mark against anything his parents had to say about him. So hardened, in fact, that he barely blinked when his father shouted at him over the phone once Underneath the Stars, Mark’s first adult novel, hit the shelves. When both of his parents blocked his phone number, it was almost like there was a huge weight lifted off of his shoulders, and he could finally be himself, unapologetically this time.

Mark meets Jisung in his last year of college, and they click beautifully. They become inseparable, Mark taking freshman Jisung under his wing. They stay in contact even after Mark graduates and hits it big, and it just seems natural to reconnect when Jisung enters the world as a working adult.

Mark doesn’t care that the two people most important to him like each other. He would never care. If the two of them show each other even a fraction of the love they have shown him, they will be happy, and that’s all Mark can really ask for.

He ruffles Donghyuck’s hair like he did when Mark became taller than him for the first time. “You have my blessing. I know you’ll take care of him.”

Donghyuck suppresses a snort. “Why do I feel like I’m talking to his father?”

“Because you are,” Mark says, standing up and cracking his knuckles. “I’m going to bed, see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” Donghyuck calls after him.

Mark takes a hot shower and flops onto his bed. He puts his phone on the charger and checks his messages before he falls asleep. There’s two from Yukhei, a few from his manager Minseok, and one from Yuta.

It takes a minute for Mark to recall who Yuta is, but he clicks the message as soon as he remembers.

hey mark, it’s yuta. do you think it’s possible to meet tomorrow? I wanna teach you some japanese phrases to impress the board

Mark smiles at the warm gesture. Sure, just send me the time and place and I’ll be there he sends back, then finally lets himself collapse from exhaustion.




 

Mark tries really hard to focus on the foreign language, but it’s so difficult when the words are coming out of such a pretty mouth.

It’s not Mark’s fault that Yuta is impossibly handsome, all sharp, angular face and wide eyes. He’s very patient too, gently correcting Mark’s mistakes on even the most simple of phrases. He’s had to have noticed Mark staring at him, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

After the fifth time Mark stumbles over the pronunciation of It’s an honor, Yuta runs a hand through his hair and puts his pencil down. “Mark, do you want to just call it a day? You seem a little distracted.”

“No, I’m okay,” Mark denies. “I’m fine. I can get this.”

Mark’s never been the kind of person to just give up, especially not on something as basic as foreign language. He flips to a new page in his notebook, starting to write the Japanese syllables in Hangul so they are a little easier to understand and practice.

“We’ll go through these phrases until you get them all correct, then we’ll go,” Yuta decides. He picks up his pencil and tucks it behind his ear. “Now, what does I am grateful for this opportunity mean?”




 

Mark arrives home to an empty apartment, but Donghyuck has cooked and packaged a meal for him. He smiles at the note they left, full of hearts and smiley faces and little stars.

Mark heats up his food and pulls his notebook out of his bag, beginning to practice his phrases. It’s a lot of writing, in hiragana, katakana, and kanji as well as Hangul, but Mark is determined to get this right and impress the board members. They might give him a bigger advance if he charms them enough.

After a few hours of tedious studying, Mark cannot remember the inflection of the syllables of It’s nice to meet you for the life of him, so he types it into an online translation machine.

It gives him an entirely different phrase.

This makes a bomb of question marks go off in Mark’s head. He thinks that maybe Yuta taught him some kind of dialect, to make him seem more cultured. He takes the Japanese phrase that Yuta gave him and googles it instead. He nearly falls out of his fucking chair when all of the results are links to porn sites.

One by one, Mark goes down his list of neatly written Japanese “greetings”, typing them into google. Every single one of them is something obscene and not entry level Japanese.

Mark takes off his glasses buries his head in his hands. Images of his twinky, gay ass walking into a room full of old Japanese men and saying “ I look pretty on my knees ” instead of “good morning, it is nice to meet you ” flash in his head and he whines out loud. The shame. The shame.

Mark rips the pages out of his notebook and opens the translation machine tab. He will impress this board with his Japanese skills, even if he has to teach it to himself.

He doesn’t sleep that night, staying up learning and perfecting everything he thought Yuta taught him and more. He’s awake when Jisung comes creeping back in, looking a little shocked to find Mark still awake at 7am, staring at the wall and mumbling to himself in Japanese.

Jisung freaks out and scolds Mark when he finds out that he didn’t sleep on such an important day, but makes him breakfast and coffee before sending him out of the door.

Mark’s dressed in a nice, dark blue suit with his hair slicked back when he arrives at the publication company. He takes a deep breath and walks into the room.

All the board members are there already and so is Yuta, whose eyes widen to the size of saucers when Mark greets everyone in the room with a big smile and a correct, perfectly pronounced Japanese greeting.

Yuta only sinks further into his chair as the meeting goes on. The board speaks to Mark in Korean, but he answers all of their questions in Japanese, leaving the native speakers completely awed. Minseok, Mark’s manager seems to be shocked as well.

The meeting is a hit, and the advance they agree on is far larger than Mark would have ever imagined. He is in fairly high spirits leaving the room, but said high spirits go flying out of the window when he hears Yuta’s voice from behind him.

“Mark, wait!”

Mark knows he doesn’t really owe it to Yuta to stop walking, but they are still inside the building. The men he just met with are still nearby, and Yuta is one of the darlings of this company. Ignoring him or worse, snapping at him would only serve to cancel this deal he just worked so hard for.

He grits his teeth, then turns around to give the other a charming smile. “Yuta,” he forces out, “What’s up?”

Yuta jogs up to him and throws an arm around his shoulder. “You just nailed that! Wow, you’re so fluent in Japanese.”

Mark waits until they turn a corner to shrug the foreigner’s arm off. “Yeah, no thanks to you. I stayed up all fucking night learning all of that.”

Yuta’s eyes are sparkling when he speaks. “Did you like what I taught you?”

Mark grabs Yuta’s forearm and drags them into an empty conference room. “What do you want from me?”

Yuta tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Mark starts, exasperated, “What do you want from me? I’m sure you just don’t try to sabotage someone’s meeting for no reason.”

“Is that what you thought that was?” Yuta asks, sitting down in one of the swivel chairs. “Sabotage?”

“What else would it be?” Mark questions back.

“A bit of fun,” Yuta says, in such complete seriousness that it blows Mark’s mind.

“So setting me up to come off as some kind of sexually ambiguous slut with no manners or respect for elders was just a bit of fun for you?”

Yuts swallows, suddenly nervous. “Uh. Yes?”

Mark put a hand on the doorknob, absolutely furious. “Text me when my check goes through.”

Yuta springs up, closing the door as soon as Mark opens it. “Wait, Mark.”

“What?” Mark grits out. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” Yuta apologizes. He looks down at the carpet, sheepish. “I just...wanted to hear you say those things.”

Mark folds his arms over his chest. “Really?”

“Maybe...do those things with you,” Yuta mumbles.

Mark is thrown for a loop, still a little bit annoyed, but now a lot flattered. He does a good job in concealing it from his voice. “So instead of approaching me like an adult, you decided to clown around and beat around the bush.”

“Well when you say it like that….” Yuta trails off.

Mark snaps the clasp of his watch, taking it off of his wrist nonchalantly. “You want to fuck? Then let’s fuck.”

“Huh?”

Mark shrugs off his suit jacket. “I said let’s fuck. Do you need me to say it Japanese?”

Yuta flinches at how harsh Mark sounds. “But we don’t have any stuff! I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ll take care of that part,” Mark says, pulling a lube packet from an inner pocket of his suit jacket. Yuta looks at him in awe before starting to get rid of his own clothes.

Mark takes a condom out of his wallet, putting it on the table alongside the lube. When he looks up, Yuta is seated in one of the swivel chairs, already naked and already hard. Mark takes his pants off and straddles Yuta’s lap, sliding the aforementioned items over to where they are.

Mark wets his fingers and reaches behind himself to stretch himself open. He’s become an expert at this over the years so he doesn’t really have to take it slow, but he does anyway because Yuta is looking at him with so much unfiltered want and it makes Mark blush a little bit. He drags it out, pushing his hips back on his fingers and consequently making his erection brush against Yuta’s.

Yuta had yet to touch him, probably sensing that Mark wasn’t too keen on that quite yet. He keeps his hands on the arms of the chair, trying to remain poised while the beautiful man rocks back and forth on his lap.

Mark is surprised when Yuta offers no protest to Mark rolling the condom on for him, insistent on redeeming himself in Mark’s eyes. The younger sinks down onto the length, muscles in his thighs flexing and contracting, whining quietly at both the feeling of fullness that he is quickly becoming accustomed to and the soreness still lingering in his backside.

Mark wraps both of his arms around Yuta’s neck, the inner crease of his elbows locking the older in tight. Slowly, carefully, Mark rolls his hips in a circle. He is very, very pleased when Yuta moans, hands tightening on the armrests. He picks up speed, grinding back and forth in Yuta’s lap so there is constant pressure on his prostate.

Yuta isn’t blind to the fact that he’s being used, essentially reduced to a warm dildo, but it’s Mark Lee writhing around in his lap, whining and panting things like “so good”, “so big”, and “so full”, and Yuta cannot really bring himself to mind. It’s hot, Mark’s hot, and it’s making his head spin.

It’s a bit funny that someone as articulate as Mark is driven to speaking half-baked sentences, and the thought makes Yuta smile. Mark sees it immediately and arches his spine so his lips rest just beneath Yuta’s ear.

Is it good? Is it everything you’ve dreamed of?”

The sound of his mother tongue coming out of Mark’s mouth makes a shiver run down Yuta’s spine. He opens his mouth to respond but Mark beats him to it.

You feel so good, Yuta. You are so good to me,” Mark moans sweetly, and for a hot second, Yuta wonders if Mark watched any of the adult films his searches took him to. He sounds much too fluent to not have. Maybe Mark just oozes sex appeal, like a hentai character.    

There is something extremely intimate about their position, but it is offset by Yuta’s refusal to touch him. Wordlessly, Mark guides Yuta’s hands to his waist, granting him permission. It seems like permission is what Yuta was waiting for because he gives Mark a small squeeze and slides his hands down to cup the younger’s ass.

He raises Mark up and drops him down on his lap, loud slapping sound echoing through the room. Instead of constant pressure on his prostate, it now comes in short bursts that make Mark gasp and writhe. He moves around so much that his nipple brushes against Yuta’s lips, and he starts the tremble in the translator’s lap.

Is this what you like?” Yuta asks before flattening his tongue against the dusky little bud. Mark arches, pushing more of his chest into Yuta’s face in response. The other chuckles, wrapping his lips around Mark’s nipple more firmly, and sucks gently.

The sounds Mark is making are so infuriatingly pretty, and they’re driving Yuta up a wall. HE digs his fingers into the flesh of Mark’s ass in a way bound to leave marks imprinted into his skin, pressing Mark’s hips both forward and down.

Fuck, just like that,” Mark whines out. “Your cock is so big, it stretches me out so good.”

Mark’s choice to say one of the original things Yuta taught him is one hundred percent intentional. Yuta’s mouth falls away from Mark’s nipple, and he just breathes against the damp skin as he grips Mark tighter, thrusting his hips up to meet the writer halfway. Mark sobs at the impact, clutching tighter at the back of Yuta’s head.

“Please,” Mark whimpers in Korean this time. “Please, harder.”

Yuta uses one hand to hold Mark by the hip and starts to pound into him with purpose. Mark hiccups, clenching around him involuntarily. His fingers come up to roll his nipples between his fingers, and his spine curves toward Yuta in response to the touch.

Yuta’s other hand comes up to wrap around Mark’s dick, stroking it in time with his thrusts, and Mark comes in an amount of time that would almost be embarrassing if Yuta didn’t follow him right after. He slumps against Yuta, smearing his own come, but he’s exhausted so he doesn’t really care.

He’s still alert enough to answer Yuta’s question of “Are we okay now?” with a short, clipped “no”. He throws the condom in Yuta’s face and dresses and leaves the room while the other splutters around the mess.






 

(“I hate fucked Yuta today,” Mark tells Jisung and Donghyuck as soon as he arrives home. Ironically, Donghyuck is emerging from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn when Mark makes the announcement.

“This should be good,” he says, taking a seat next to his boyfriend on the couch.

Mark tells them about the study session yesterday, about how he stayed up all night studying, about how he aced the meeting, and about the sex itself, but in very minor detail for Jisung’s sake.

“It was hot but I’m still angry with him,” Mark concludes, sitting back.

“God, Mark, you’re so angry,” Donghyuck tells him.

“You need to relax, hyung,” Jisung agrees. “Go take a yoga or dance class or something. You’ve been so stressed lately.”

“Huh, a dance class,” Mark echoes. “I can do that.”

 

Chapter Text

“No, Mark. You have to move your hips like this,” the instructor says, demonstrating the calculated swivel that Mark just cannot get correct.

Donghyuck has many connections, and one of his friends owns a dance studio. Mark had allowed Donghyuck to enroll him in one of the courses, and he was actually kind of excited to participate.

Donghyuck hadn’t told him that the class was a latin ballroom course. Mark had been made to change into figure-hugging pants and a sheer blue top with a very low v-neck. He doesn’t really mind the clothes and thinks he looks kind of hot in them, all things considered.

Donghyuck also hadn’t told him that Donghyuck had enrolled himself as Mark’s partner for the class. He’s more amused than annoyed though; Mark hasn’t gone out and done anything with his best friend in a few months, and he’s forgotten how fun the younger can be.

The classes come a month and a half after the extraordinary festival that is Donghyuck’s twenty fourth birthday party. It goes off without a hitch, and Mark tells everyone the childhood stories he has of Donghyuck while the younger gets drunk to curb his embarrassment. It really is a great party and Mark’s proud of both the decoration and the turnout. It’s a little strange being in the room with four people he’s had sex with, but Mark stays close to Donghyuck the entire night so none of them can approach him about it.

Donghyuck insists that signing up for the classes with him was actually Jisung’s idea, and Mark doesn’t even doubt it.

Much to Mark’s surprise, they’re not the only same sex couple in the room. It’s also a beginner’s class, which is good because their initially horrible technique doesn’t stand out. Even if the two of them as a pair don’t stand out, Ten, the owner, instructor, and Donghyuck’s friend, pays special attention to Donghyuck, shouting out praises for his form and passion.

Ten takes notice of Mark’s rigid hips whenever he passes by. “Mark, you have to relax a little,” he says, eyeing him up and down.

Donghyuck snickers at the statement while Mark’s cheeks turn pink. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Ten continues on, voice loud in a way that is likely unintentional. “You’re too stiff. You are the follower. You are the bottom. You must exude sex appeal.”

Donghyuck is doing a poor job of hiding his laughter now. Ten pointedly ignores it, projecting his voice so the whole class can hear. “Everyone, look at Mark and I.”

Mark squeaks when Ten grabs his waist. Gently, he guides Mark’s hips to the left. Mark follows as best as he can, poking his hip out to the side. Ten pushes down harder, guiding him to the other side.

“You have the basic movement down,” Ten comments in his ear. “Now try to be a little more fluid.”

“Like this?” Mark says, bending down. His knees crack loudly in the silence of the studio.

Donghyuck bursts out laughing, letting go of Mark’s hands and doubling over. The rest of the class joins in, and Mark can’t even blame them. When the rest of the students quiet down, Ten moves from behind Mark.

“Donghyuck, may I?” Ten asks, gesturing to Mark’s now empty hands.

“Go ahead,” Donghyuck says, and Mark is suddenly face to face with Ten.

“Follow my lead,” Ten says, gripping Mark’s hand tighter. Mark nods jerkily.

As soon as Ten takes a step, Mark’s body follows. The instructor keeps the steps simple, assuming that Mark is having trouble with the technique. On the contrary, the steps are the easiest part. It’s the fluidity and feeling that Mark had been struggling with.

All evidence of that disappears, though, when Mark starts to dance with Ten. Maybe it’s the intensity that Ten is staring at him with, but Mark is suddenly overcome with the need to perform, a need he only feels during sex, which was probably a dead giveaway of what the rest of the afternoon was going to look like.

Even though Mark is taller, he is still following. He bends to Ten’s whims, pressing their chests together and extending his legs when Ten’s choreography calls for it. They do not break eye contact, and they are so close that Mark is inhaling every breath that Ten exhales. After about two minutes, Ten releases him, leaving him with a soft, encouraging pat on his shoulder.

“One final run through is all we will be able to fit in for today,” Ten says. “Everyone take your places!”

Mark curses himself for having an observant best friend when Donghyuck gets back into position. “I’m assuming I will be leaving here by myself.”

“No,” Mark tries to deny. “I doubt he’s even into me.”

“Maybe not,” Donghyuck counters, body reacting to the music Ten resumed play on. “But you are definitely into him, and you were blessed with the uncanny ability to make all of my friends want to fuck you.”

Mark gives him a sideways look. “May I remind you that you’re dating my other best friend, who I introduced you to in the first place.”

Donghyuck extends his leg elegantly. “I haven’t fucked Jisung.”

Mark makes a squawking noise, muted so he doesn’t get scolded by the instructor. “No! I don’t care about that. I don’t want to hear about that.”

“This is how I feel whenever you come to me with a new tale about one of my friends. You breathe in their general direction, and they all fall to their feet for you.”

Mark shrugs, letting Donghyuck turn him around. “It’s a gift.”

“A disgusting one,” Donghyuck complains, groaning when Mark accidentally steps on his foot. “Ow! Where’s all that grace now? Did it leave your body along with Ten’s hands?”

Mark steps on his foot purposely this time. “You’re talking too loud,” Mark says, casting a wary glance to the corner of the room, where Ten was indeed looking at them.

“It was intentional,” Donghyuck sings at him. At the clap of Ten’s hands, he releases his hold on Mark’s hips. “Go get your dick.”

Mark shakes his head and turns to leave with everyone else, but he freezes when Ten calls his name.

“Mark,” the instructor calls. “I’d like to see you for a moment, please.”

Donghyuck snickers, ignoring the pleading look Mark sends him. Ten waits until the room clears out until he begins to speak.

“I noticed you’re a little stiff with Haechan. I have some extra exercises for you to try to loosen up if you’re willing to try,” Ten says.

Mark blinks. That’s not what he had been expecting. “Oh. Okay, I don’t have anything else to do today.”

Donghyuck may have been correct about Mark’s attraction to the handsome dance teacher, and he’s a little disappointed about the outcome of their one on one meeting. Mark’s aware that he has many weapons of seduction, but there’s one that he hasn’t used yet that seems perfect for the present moment; his flexibility.

“Sit with your legs out to the side,” Ten instructs and Mark listens. When Ten begins to push on his back to make him lay down, Mark goes willingly. Ten pushes until Mark’s legs are spread wide, hips rotated, chest pressed flush against the floor. Mark cannot see Ten’s face directly, but he can see the shocked expression in the mirror.

Mark, smugly satisfied, watches Ten swallow thickly. “Your hips clearly aren’t the problem,” he says. “What about your back?”

The writer dutifully performs the cobra pose, pigeon pose, and a standing forward bend with ease, and pretends like he can’t feel Ten’s eyes burning into his backside or see Ten's poorly hidden half erection. He hadn’t stretched like this in a long time, so when he stands, he moans, quiet and completely unintentional. Ten’s composure seems to unravel, and he folds his arms over his chest.

“Mark—”

“Ten,” Mark cuts him off, mirroring his pose. “I’m an erotica novelist. I’m the king of cliches. Let’s not pretend like you actually kept me in here just to see me stretch.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean if you want to fuck, you should just say so,” Mark presses on, emboldened by the way Ten looks him up and down.

Ten waits a sinfully long moment before he descends on Mark, lips parted slightly. He kisses sloppily, without finesse, like Daniel had. Mark exhales in half contentment half irritation when their lips meet, but the sound quickly veers into a squeak when Ten’s cold, cold hands uproot the hem of his shirt and slide up Mark’s torso. One of the dark nipples catches on the in-between of Ten’s fingers and the instructor chuckles when Mark startles beneath his hands.

“How are we going to do this?” Ten questions. “I mean I have lube in here, but I don't have any condoms on me.”

Mark pulls away to look at Ten from a distance. His lips quirk into a smile. “Is this something you do often? Hook up with your students?”

Ten tilts his head sideways. “No. I have three roommates. Gets a little hectic at home and this is a great place to have some privacy once everyone leaves.”

“You’ve…” Mark begins, eyes widening. “You’ve fucked yourself in here?”

Ten merely nods, and Mark groans at the image that surfaces in his brain; Ten, sweating profusely after a long day of teaching, spread out on the couches in the corner of the room and fucking into himself with his fingers. It’s too much to handle. Mark buries his head into Ten’s neck.

“I don’t care about a condom if you don’t. I’m clean, just,” he pauses, making sure to look Ten in the eyes while he makes his request, “Please just fuck me.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to say no to that?” Ten asks rhetorically. He leans up to kiss Mark again, hands cupping the younger’s ass. Mark whines pitifully and pushes back into his palms.

“You don’t,” he says against Ten’s lips.

Ten laughs at that, walking Mark over to the mirror. He rids Mark of the borrowed shirt first, then takes ahold of Mark’s wrists. He extends Mark’s arms high above his head, settling his palm on the mirror. Finally, Ten nudges his feet until he’s standing shoulder width apart, and Mark feels more like a criminal than someone who’s about to get fucked.

Ten pulls the pants down to Mark’s knees, not even bothering to take them all the way off. He leaves Mark in that position while he goes to retrieve the lube from wherever he keeps it. Mark, so used to the sound of a packet ripping, jumps when he hears the flick of a cap.

Mark hears a surprised noise from behind him when Ten sinks his index finger in with little resistance. He bites back a smile.

“I can sometimes be a little condescending,” Ten says quietly. “And I’m not really a safe word kind of person. You say stop and I stop.”

“That’s a relief,” Mark says, pushing back on the slow moving digit. “I’m okay with condescension. It gets me off.”

“Of course it does,” Mark hears Ten say, squirting more lube onto his fingers. “I should have scolded you in front of everyone.”

“That would have gotten me off too,” the writer responds. “And if we’re disclosing information, I’m extremely well behaved,” he says, sticking his ass out and shaking it a little.

Ten delivers a small slap to the flesh. “Stop moving. Let me prep you,” he demands, and Mark can’t say no to that. Ten is quick and efficient with his fingers, and is lubing himself up in no time. He enters Mark slowly, waits for him to adjust, then delivers a fatal blow.

“Fuck yourself back on me,” Ten orders.

Mark whimpers quietly but obeys. He moves his hips forwards then sends them back, impaling himself on Ten’s dick. It’s a lot thicker than he would have thought, but it feels good to have inside of him, giving him a proper stretching.

Mark tries his damnedest to work up a steady rhythm but it’s impossible to, given his position. It’s erratic and disorganized, and Mark feels the frustration build up in him as he continues to fuck himself back. Ten does nothing but watch him struggle with a small smile on his face. Tears prick Mark’s eyes and he feels helpless, pathetic in the best kind of way.

“Please, Ten, do something,” Mark begs, voice diluted with tears. “Fuck me.”

Ten just shakes his head. “Well behaved boys do what they’re told and take what they’re given, right baby?”

Mark suddenly hates his own choice of words from earlier. His bottom lip starts to quiver, and the tears in his eyes spill over onto his cheeks. Ten immediately leans forward in interest.

“Are these tears for me?” Ten says, voice saturated in awe. “Look how pretty you are, Mark,  crying for me and taking my cock like that.”

Mark feels his chest flush and he slams his ass back harder. There’s a brief touch of his prostate, and his knees wobble because of it. Ten reaches down, grabbing Mark to steady him.

“You’re so tight,” Ten grunts, his grip on Mark’s waist tightening.

Mark’s body immediately floods with heat. “Am I really?” he asks, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“No,” Ten says. “But I just felt you clench around me. Is that what you like?”

“I—”

Ten reaches up to grab a handful of Mark’s hair, yanking his head back and forcing his spine in a pretty arch. “Do you like being told how tight your pussy is?”

That….That’s—

Mark sobs, body shuddering. Even if he could think of any words, he wouldn’t be able to string them together into a sentence. His mind has gone absolutely, completely fucking blank, unable to process anything but the push of Ten’s cock into his ass, Ten’s fingers in his hair, and that….that word.

“Hm?” Ten asks, beginning to fuck into Mark. “Do you like it, baby?”

Mark’s knees turn to jelly, and he’s sure he would have collapsed had Ten not had him so firmly pressed against the mirror.

“Please,” he begs, halfway gone. “Say it again.”

“Baby?” Ten questions, taunting, and he grinds into Mark’s ass slowly when he whines. “Come on, tell me what you want me to say.”

“Can’t,” Mark chokes out. “Too embarrassing.”

Ten releases Mark’s hair. He pulls away from Mark entirely, and Mark whips around so fast he nearly breaks his neck. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Ten says nonchalantly. “Since you cannot be bothered to listen and obey, I cannot be bothered to fuck you.”

There’s something—subspace, his brain supplies helpfully—niggling in the back of his head that’s making Mark extremely desperate. He reaches out and grabs Ten’s arm before he can pull up his pants. “If I obey, can we continue?”

Ten raises an eyebrow. “Can you even obey?”

Yes,” Mark nods vigorously. “I can be good. I’m a good boy.”

Something dangerous flashes in Ten’s irises. He closes the distance between them and pushes Mark back against the mirror. He gasps when the cool surface meets his nipples.

Ten lays his palm on the small of Mark’s back, right above his ass. “Tell me what you want.”

Mark takes a deep breath, summoning courage. “I want you to fuck me. Need you to fuck me,” he says.

“Go on,” Ten prompts.

Mark swallows. “Need you to tell me how tight and hot my pussy is,” he says, quieter than his other statements, but Ten still hears him.

“You’re shy, that’s so cute,” Ten coos. He enters Mark with one smooth thrust of his hips, holding Mark’s waist in a bruising grip.

“You’re so small right here,” Ten wonders, holding tighter as he fucks him. “Such a tiny little waist.”

Mark moans, head falling forward against the mirror. He can’t even bear to look at himself.

Until Ten makes him, grabbing him by the hair again and tilting his head up so he can see his reflection properly. Mark is suddenly reminded of how Taeil fucked him in front of a mirror.

Similar to Taeil, Ten has disappeared behind Mark’s broad shoulders, but unlike Taeil, Ten is fucking him in front of a full body mirror. Mark can see his own cock, hanging full and red and aching to be touched. He reaches down and curls his fingers around himself, but his hand remains stationary.

“Go on,” Ten encourages. “Make yourself feel good while I take care of your pussy.”

The whine that rips itself from Mark’s mouth is high pitched and embarrassingly needy. He leans his forehead back against the mirror while he strokes himself faster than Ten is fucking him. His breath is coming in short little pants, fogging up the mirror temporarily.

“Your pussy is so good baby, so tight. Loves my cock so much,” Ten breathes against Mark’s ear. Heat travels up and down Mark’s spine and he pumps his hand faster in response. Ten leaves his lips right up against Mark’s ear, pressing his chest into his back.  

Mark comes hard all over the mirror and his own hand, but there is still much left to do. He turns around and makes eye contact with Ten while sinking down to the floor.

“Can I please suck you off? Please?” Mark pleads, eyes shining. He places a hand on the instructor’s thigh, rubbing up and down. “I’m really good at it, I promise.”

Still shaking from his own orgasm, being down on his knees and looking up at Ten, begging to suck his cock is something new for Mark. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this casually submissive in his life.

“Of course, baby,” Ten coos, petting Mark’s hair. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

Mark preens at the offhand compliment and leans into his hand. He brings his own hand up, still covered in his own come, and uses it as lubricant, making the slide of his hand much more slick.

Mark really was not interested in prolonging this anymore. His jaw hinges wide and he guides the majority of Ten’s engorged cock into his mouth, fist holding the base steady. He wraps his lips around the length, hollowing out his cheeks as best as he can.

He bobs his head back and forth, lips dragging. His wrist is moving, curling around the base as he sucks sloppily. Mark’s mouth is stuffed full of cock and he loves it, slurping diligently and making way more noise than is necessary just to show how much he likes it.

Mark removes his hand from the bottom of Ten’s cock, using it to play with his balls instead. Very, very slowly he goes down further, relaxing his throat and taking the final few inches of dick in his mouth.

The writer has deepthroated his toys before, but never an actual human person. Ten seems to love it, breath catching and becoming ragged. Mark is so content that he almost forgets to breathe.

He inhales deeply, swallowing around the saliva pooling in his mouth. Ten whimpers, fingernails scratching Mark’s scalp. The younger looks up with innocent eyes, blinking owlishly.

“Fuck,” Ten swears, throwing his head back. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Mark hums his appreciation around Ten’s dick, and a tiny squeak is all the warning he gets before Ten comes right down his throat. He swallows it all, but his inner slut is reluctant to take the cock out of his mouth. Mark sucks gently on the head, bathing it with wet little licks that Ten cannot get enough of.

Ten first pull up his pants, then yanks Mark up by the arm to kiss him, tasting his own come on his tongue. Ten is in control and Mark lets himself get pushed against the mirror, gasping wetly when Ten shoves his hand back inside Mark’s pants.

Ten squeezes his dick, and he laughs when Mark cries out. “Look how fucking hard you got just from sucking me off,” he comments.

Mark looks down, and he’s straining against his pants. He had been so focused on pleasing Ten that he hadn’t even noticed his own erection.

“A textbook slut if I’ve ever seen one,” Ten continues. He pushes Mark’s hips back when they jerk forward, desperately seeking release.

“Yes, I’m a slut,” Mark cries, eyes watering again. His voice cracks. “I’m a slut, I’m a slut that loves to come.”

“Shut up,” Ten says, kissing the hollow of Mark’s throat. Mark nods, reduced to pitiful whines before he comes once again, but into Ten’s hand this time.

Mark’s knees are so weak that Ten has to walk him back to the dressing room to make sure he doesn’t fall. He stays in there while Mark gets dressed. He’s folding his borrowed clothes when Ten wrinkles his nose at him.

“You can keep the clothes,” he tells Mark, who gives him a sweet smile.

“Thanks, Ten,” Mark says back. “For the dance lessons, I mean.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “Go home,” he says.

Mark walks outside into the cold night air and promptly remembers that Donghyuck drove him there.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Mark has two more dance classes in his three-class package, and he and Ten fuck after each one.

He takes a little break from his dick hunt after that. Ten is a rough partner and Mark aches all over after he leaves. He spends weeks afterward hanging out with his best friends and Jaemin. Mark isn’t quite comfortable with Jaemin yet, but he’s getting there. He doesn’t know how the speed skater feels about him either, but if Donghyuck and Jisung consider him a friend, then he is a friend to Mark.

Mark is playing Monopoly with the three of them in the last full week of July when Jisung asks the question, “Mark hyung, what are you doing for your birthday?”

Mark pauses in the middle of picking up a Chance card, “I don’t know? Nothing, probably.”

Donghyuck gawks at him. “What? Come on, it’s your birthday! The big two-five!”

Mark gives his childhood best friend a blank look. “Twenty five isn’t exactly a landmark.”

“You have to do something or you’ll just look like a loser still suffering from your months-old break up,” Jaemin adds in, though not unkindly. Mark supposes there is a teaspoon of truth to that.

“Jaemin’s right,” Donghyuck says. “Didn’t Daniel throw you parties for the last two years? You have to outdo him.”

“Let us plan it!” Jisung exclaims, rubbing his big ass hands together.

“Oh god.”

“Don’t say that, Mark,” Jaemin scolds. “The three of us together are a force to be reckoned with.”

“I make more money than Daniel does,” Donghyuck offers, looking smug. “We are going to throw you the best birthday bash ever!”







Mark has never seen either of his best friends quite this determined. They are always rushing around, making phone calls and whispering together in hushed tones. He supposes it is difficult to plan a huge, off the wall birthday party in a little over a week, so he excuses it for the time being.

He starts to see a lot more of Jaemin, who is seen with a little blue notebook everywhere he goes. Mark will emerge from his room after jerking off to take a shower, only to find that Jaemin’s in the bathroom; he will come home from the store to see the younger spread out on his couch with his head in Donghyuck’s lap—which isn’t even the slightest bit odd anymore, despite the fact that neither of them live there.

If having him around leads to a party like this, Jaemin can come around any time, as far as Mark is concerned.

They’re in the stupidly large penthouse of one of Jaemin’s friends, Hwang Hyunjin. The main room is dark, only lit by blue lightbulbs and a spotlight hanging from the ceiling. The music is booming, something you can afford to do when the nearest person is half a kilometer away, and it seems to shake the walls of the house. The screams of “Surprise!” when Mark finally enters join in on the noise and Mark is shocked that the walls don’t collapse in on them.

The house is packed —that had been the one thing Mark had been worried about. Sure, he had acquaintances and work friends, same as everyone else, but Mark is only really close with Donghyuck and Jisung. Somehow, the three of them have managed to round up a crowd of nearly one hundred people, including Donghyuck’s friends (Renjun, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Yukhei), Mark’s old college friends (Changbin, Sicheng, and Hongjoong), and a ton of friends Mark had met through Daniel, most have which tell Mark that they’ve cut off contact with him because of the immature way he handled their break up.

Donghyuck has made himself the honorary MC of the night, and he carries a microphone around with him wherever he goes. Mark’s hand is never empty, as Jisung keeps pushing drinks (mostly waters) into his hand as soon as he finishes one, but Mark doesn’t really mind. He’s having a good time, a much better time than he would have been having at home by himself like he had planned.

(Some twenty minutes after he gets there, there’s a small panic when Mark goes missing, but it’s just because he disappears into the bathroom to get a handjob from Yukhei. He emerges minutes later, and Donghyuck gives him the most unimpressed look before dragging him back onto the dance floor.)

After two hours of dancing and drinking, Jaemin, who Mark had not seen up until this point, appears out of thin air and grabs Mark arm while he is dancing with Renjun. “Come on,” he urges, “it’s time for your present.”

Ah, Jaemin’s surprise. Jisung had warned him about this while Mark was getting ready.

“Jaemin hyung planned something for you,” Jisung said, sitting on the bathroom sink and watching Donghyuck contour Mark’s face.

Mark heard more than saw Donghyuck’s pout. “Yeah, and he won’t tell either of us what it is. I tried to charm him and it didn’t work.”

Jisung snorted. “No, he told me.”

Donghyuck gaped at him, mouth wide. “ You? How?”

Jisung gave his boyfriend a knowing smile. “I said ‘please’, and then he told me.”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes at him. “I think you said a little more than that,” he murmured, “That’s not fair.”

The youngest of them ignored him and turned his attention back to Mark. “He said it’s very special, so you have to look as hot as possible.”

“I will handle that part,” Donghyuck said.

And Donghyuck, true to his word, dressed Mark in a sheer black shirt patterned with flowers, black jeans, heeled boots, and a choker. Jaehyun had scarcely taken his eyes off of him since he got there.

Jaemin leads Mark up to a huge, throne-like seat that sits above everyone else at the end of a long runway. Once he’s seated and all eyes are on him, one of the aforementioned spotlights shines down onto Jaemin and follows him to Donghyuck’s side, where he promptly snatches the mic away. He ignores Donghyuck’s whine of protest.

“Hyunjin!” Jaemin calls, and a second spotlight shines down onto the owner of the house, who also has a microphone. Mark feels himself smiling at the theatrics of it all.

“Thank you for letting us use your house for this party,” Jaemin continues on, “I feel bad about breaking something during set up.”

Mark’s eyebrows pinch together. He wonders what they’re getting at.

“It’s no problem,” Hyunjin says with a big smile. “To fix it, we’re going to have to call a construction worker.

Before Mark has time to question what’s going on, all the lights in the room darken. The first note of Pony by Genuine booms from the speakers and Mark nearly has a heart attack as what’s about to happen sets in.

Jisung has his phone pointed straight at Mark, capturing his reaction, but Donghyuck has his trained on the hallway, where a very tall, very handsome man emerges.

He’s wearing loose jeans, a neon yellow vest with nothing underneath, and a cheap looking yellow plastic hardhat. His skin shines under the light. He poses against the door frame before gyrating in place, and the house erupts into stupid cheers.

“Give it up for Johnny!” Jaemin says before phasing back into the crowd.

Even from the distance he’s sitting at, Mark can see the broad shoulders, bulging pectoral muscles, how the nipples are small and stiff against the fabric of the vest. Mark swallows thickly as Johnny comes closer and closer, rolling his body in a way that Mark can only find one word in his vocabulary to describe: sexy.

About halfway down the walkway, Johnny stops and lets the vest fall down to his elbows, exposing his back muscles. A girl in the crowd screams louder than anyone else, and Mark laughs out loud at the sheer volume. He makes a no-no motion with his finger and slides it up to cover himself again.

He’s working the crowd, Mark realizes a little too late, making sure they pay attention. Everyone is for sure going to see how hard he already is over a tall, oiled man with muscles.

Johnny reaches the bottom of the stairs, and Mark can really see how handsome he really is for the first time. With big doe eyes, strong eyebrows and pouty lips, Johnny has a well structured face to go along with his well structured body.

Mark watches, heart in his throat, as Johnny crawls up the stairs, hips swaying tauntingly. They make eye contact and Mark couldn’t even break it if he wanted to. He has to crane his neck as Johnny stands up to his full height on the platform.

In a quick motion, Johnny grabs the front of his jeans and rips them clean off. Mark should have known they were going to come off at some point. What kind of stripper would Johnny be if he didn’t take at least some of his clothes off?

Johnny is left in tiny black shorts, loose enough to leave some to the imagination, but only just. The fit is more snug around the back, and Mark is greeted with firm cheeks when Johnny turns around. Mark gently smacks him on the ass, and there is more jiggle than he was anticipating.

Johnny shakes his ass at Mark a little more, almost as if to taunt him. Mark plays along and pats his lap playfully, but gets the shock of his life when Johnny actually sits there.

Mark’s hands fly up to hold his waist on instinct, and Johnny lets Mark keep them there when he grinds down on his lap. Despite the obvious differences in size, Johnny not only manages to stay on top of Mark, but he also stays on beat.

The flexion of Johnny’s sculpted thighs is mesmerizing to Mark. He releases his hold on his waist to run his hands over them in wonder. The muscles are firm and solid, and feeling of so much power underneath his fingertips makes Mark moan quietly. Johnny’s close enough that he hears it, and he gives Mark a close lipped smile.

Johnny proceeds to stand, pick him up and wrap Mark’s legs around his waist with the intent of carrying him out of the room. It would have worked, but Johnny manages to trip over one of the three steps that the throne had been elevated on. He and Mark go crashing down onto the floor, and Donghyuck’s loud laughter stands out among everyone else’s, familiar even if a little hysteric. He’s doubled over, clinging onto Renjun for support, but his phone is still angled at them. Mark instantly knows he’s going to end up on Donghyuck’s snapchat—and consequently, all of twitter—by tomorrow morning.

Mark supposes it is pretty funny, so he brushes it off and allows himself to be picked up again, this time on flat ground. The partygoers begin to cheer loudly as Johnny takes him down the hall.

Johnny carries him all the way to what Mark assumes is one of many spare rooms and sets him down gently on the floor. “How was my performance?”

“Phenomenal,” Mark laughs, leaning against the closed door.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Johnny says. He scratches his neck awkwardly. “Um. I was just instructed to take you in here. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Mark looks at him quizzically. “Do you usually fuck your customers?”

“Not unless I want to,” Johnny replies, giving Mark an unsubtle once over. Mark knows he’s won.

“Do you want to?”

Johnny chokes on his own tongue, even though Mark’s question was extremely predictable. “What?”

“Do you want to fuck me?” Mark asks, speaking slowly and clearly, so there would be no room for miscommunication or error.

Johnny swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah,” he says, barely heard over the thump of the music, “Yeah, I do.”

“Perfect,” Mark says. He starts to unbutton his shirt. It’s completely undone by the time Johnny gets over to him, and he lifts Mark exactly like he had before.

“Do you enjoy holding me like this?” Mark asks into Johnny’s hair.

“Maybe,” Johnny says before placing Mark on the bed. Mark doesn’t relax the muscles in his thighs, and they stay wrapped around Johnny’s waist. He reaches up to push the flimsy vest off of his shoulders, and Johhny pulls away slightly to let it slide down his arms before he throws it across the room.

Johnny leans down and licks across the seam of Mark’s lips and he parts them easily. He keeps their mouths pressed together while he works Mark’s jeans button open and his zipper down. He pries Mark’s legs away from his waist and makes quick work of pulling his jeans down his legs and landing them in a pile with his vest, smiling when he sees Mark’s absence of underwear.

Johnny gets down onto his knees between Mark’s thighs and lifts them so his knees hook over his shoulders. Mark, enjoying the feel of Johnny’s hand on his inner thigh, does not notice him looking into the nightstand in the room until he brandishes a condom and some lube and lays them by Mark’s hip. He doesn’t even bother to think about why they’re in the room.

Johnny coats his fingers generously and pushes his index finger in slowly. It’s been a while, but Mark tries to relax as best as he can.

“Wow,” Johnny says, unoccupied hand rubbing at Mark’s hip, “you’re a natural.”

Mark bites his lip to hold in a giggle. “I’ve had a bit of practice, but thank you.”

Silence consumes the two of them as Johnny works in another finger. Mark, embarrassingly, is much needier than he expected himself to be. He rolls his hips down against the digits, and he’s moving so much that Johnny has to splay one of his hands against Mark’s stomach to get him to stop moving.

By the time he adds a third finger, Mark is delirious with impatience. He whines frequently, twisting his torso until Johnny presses a palm to his chest and tells him to stop moving.

Mark watches, enthralled, as Johnny peels his shorts off of his thick frame. His thighs flex prettily, and Mark wants so badly to reach out and touch. He can’t, so Johnny is uninterrupted as he rolls the condom on and wets his dick with the lube. Mark could probably stay there and watch him jerk off for hours. He licks his lips, eyes shining.

“Come on, Johnny, fuck me,” Mark pleads, tired of waiting. He might actually die if he doesn’t have Johnny’s dick in him in the next few seconds.

Johnny delivers, and Mark has to take a second to breathe when he pushes in. Johnny’s cock is so big, making Mark feel like he’s been split open. He gives himself time to adjust to the girth before he squeaks out a tiny little “move”, to give Johnny the okay.

All of the stripper’s prior relaxation is gone and it’s all lust, all haste when Johnny fucks into Mark. The writer moans brokenly, legs winding tight around Johnny’s waist immediately. Johnny smiles gently despite the momentum of his hips, and he runs a hand over the junction of Mark’s hip and thigh. The touch is deceptively innocent and directly juxtaposes the rest of Johnny, and the contrast is so pleasurably dizzying that Mark’s hand shoots out to grip Johnny’s forearm.

Johnny pauses to lift Mark’s legs, angling his hips upward to give him better leverage. The backs of Mark’s thighs press against Johnny’s chest, and his feet hang over his shoulder. This angle is much better, and Mark grabs back onto that beautifully muscled forearm to keep himself grounded and in the moment.

Johnny’s balls are fucking huge, and Mark can feel them slapping against his ass with every thrust. The sound of their bodies colliding is rhythmic and enticing, not to mention physically hot, and Mark thinks that this is the textbook one night stand he has been looking for.

Mark gets his second shock of the night when Johnny scoops his hands underneath his ass and hoists him up. He lets out an undignified squeak and arms automatically tighten around Johnny’s neck. Johnny holds him close and begins to pound into Mark while standing.

“Fuck,” Johnny borderline growls, and Mark is taken aback by how rough it sounds, “How are you tighter like this?”

Mark cannot even form words, mouth hanging open as he pants helplessly. The angle is not the most practical for either of them; Johnny’s cock isn’t touching Mark’s prostate at all, but the drag against his walls and the feeling of fullness are more than enough for Mark. He bucks his hips up, and Johnny makes a sound of dissent.

He slams Mark back down on the bed. “Stay put,” he orders, and Mark immediately pouts. He tries to sit up for a kiss but Johnny pushes him back down, focused on making them come.

Mark’s eyes flicker down to Johnny’s hand, and he catches it before it can leave his chest. Slowly, he guides Johnny’s hand up to his throat.

He sees the question in Johnny’s eyes immediately, and he’s relieved it’s not fear or disgust. Mark positions Johnny’s hand in the spot to choke him properly without killing him, breath hitching from the constant press of dick into his ass.

“Squeeze,” Mark says, eyes fluttering shut, “Just a little bit.”

Johnny can’t be all that new that this, because he starts softly, hand tightening into a bruising grip as he continues on. It’s a tight hold, but Mark can tell that Johnny’s not even using all of his strength. Mark arches his back and his eyes snap open. “Fuck,” he rasps out drily, and his mouth continues to hang open even after he speaks.

The stripper leans down to kiss Mark but ends up breathing against his lips instead. With this proximity, he slows his strokes down, now slow and deep instead of choppy and hard. He adjusts the pressure of his hand too, operating like a blood pressure machine— squeezesqueezesqueeze release. They’re in time with the way he’s fucking Mark, and the writer finds it extremely fucking hot.

He’s squirming around on the bed, and he doesn’t even hesitate to obey when Johnny tells him to touch himself. His whole body is hot all over, and he jerks himself off as fast as his hand will allow him. Johnny fucks him without mercy, the bed jerking with every thrust and Mark cries out when he comes.

Johnny follows right behind, and Mark is filled with an artificial warmth that he really likes. He scoots over to make room for Johnny to fall next to him on the bed, and they spend a few minutes just catching their breath.

Adult Ceremony by Park Jiyoon starts to play from the living room, and Mark springs up like he’s been electrocuted. Johnny gives him a confused look.

“Where’s the fire?”

“That’s my favorite song,” Mark explains, wiggling his ass into his jeans, “I have to go dance.”

Johnny just nods and watches him refasten the buttons on his shirt. He accepts the kiss of thanks that Mark leans down to give him.

“Stay. Enjoy the party,” Mark tells him. He takes Johnny’s hardhat and puts it on his own head before rushing back out into the throng of bodies.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

About four hours in, the guests at Mark’s party have gathered in some kind of circle where they flaunt their dancing skills. It gives Mark time to escape for a break. He’s never been this sociable or had this much attention on him for this long before, and he’s just a tiny bit exhausted.

He slips past the tight ring and goes to the kitchen for a drink. To his surprise, there’s already someone in there, sipping on his own drink, but Mark doesn’t recognize the stranger until he looks up from his phone.

“Mark?” The not-so-stranger asks.

“Dong Sicheng,” Mark replies, smile growing on his face as he digs in one of the many coolers for a bottle of water. He’s shocked when Sicheng opens his arms for a hug, but walks right into them anyway.

Mark vividly remembers the infatuation he had with Sicheng in his last three semesters at college. It was passionate and admittedly lust driven, but at the end of Mark’s junior year, Sicheng had been Mark’s on campus best friend. The one time they got into a big argument, it was about skinship and how Sicheng didn’t want to be touched, and they scarcely saw each other after that. So it’s alarming when after two years of not seeing each other face to face, the first thing Sicheng does to greet Mark is to give him a hug.

(Sicheng is still as handsome as he was in college, Mark notes pitifully. He swallows against Sicheng’s shoulder.)

“I thought you hated skinship,” Mark blurts out, instead of starting with a traditional greeting like a normal person.

Sicheng releases him and laughs. “I’ve evolved,” he shrugs, “How have you been?”

“Pretty great actually. I live a decent life these days,” Mark says, deciding to be humble.

“Did you ever get around to writing those books like you said you wanted to?” Sicheng questions, leaning against the counter.

When they’d met, Mark had been three years deep in his erotica career, but Sicheng hadn’t known that. Instead of letting him find out, Mark had told him that he wanted to try writing historical fiction novels.

He had, eventually; Inferiority Complex had explored the relationship between two men in the apogee of the Qing Dynasty—the emperor’s son, Xu Minghao, and his foreign servant, Kim Mingyu. The book wasn’t very popular in China, which Mark had been expecting when he started tampering with their history, but Korean readers ate it up. All of the sex scenes are extremely gentle, loving, and Mark has never thoroughly enjoyed writing something that much.

“Something like that,” is what Mark decides to say.

“Don’t be so modest!” Sicheng explains, nudging his arm, “When I got here yesterday, your book were all over the little shops at the airport.”

There are two things about that statement that Mark could focus on; the fact that his books have migrated to airports now, and—

“What do you mean ‘got here’?” Mark says, eyebrows raising.

“Jisung didn’t tell you?” Sicheng asks, and looks shocked when Mark shakes his head, “I moved back to Zhejiang after graduation.”

Mark just gapes at him. “And you came back? For me?”

Sicheng just gives him a dazzling smile. “Yeah. I missed Korea. And you, I guess. But mostly Korea.”

Mark is stunned, for lack of a better word. Sicheng missed him. Sicheng thought about him after their fight. Twenty one year old Mark would be elated right now.

“Which reminds me,” Sicheng continues on, “I brought you something for your birthday. Something special from Zhejiang.”

Mark knows his eyes start to sparkle in excitement. “Where is it?”

“In my car,” Sicheng tells him, then finishes off his drink. “You gonna come down with me to get it?”

“Sure,” Mark agrees, putting his own unfinished drink in the sink. “Let’s go.”

They walk in relative silence down to Hyunjin’s garage. Sicheng drives a gorgeous, large black BMW, and he pulls a cream colored envelope out of the visor before Mark can get a good look at the interior.

“Here,” Sicheng says as he hands him the envelope.

Mark takes the envelope and opens it cautiously. There’s three vouchers in it, two for plane tickets and one for a million won. Mark holds the papers up. “What’s this?”

Sicheng bites his lip. “Jisung told me you were having a bit of a rough patch, I figured you could use a vacation.”

The writer’s jaw drops open. “What?”

“Wherever you want to go, whenever you want to go, just give me a call and I’ll get you the tickets. I’ll convert the currency to the place you’re traveling to,” Sicheng says, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s a lot, but I never got to thank you for everything you did for me in college and I figured now would be a good time to do it.”

Mark barrels into Sicheng’s arms without warning. “Thank you, Sicheng. Really.”

Sicheng just laughs and receives the embrace. “It’s no problem, Mark. I work at a travel agency.

“Can we talk about something important?” Sicheng asks, and Mark’s heart immediately plummets to his stomach. He didn’t do anything, but that’s never a phrase someone wants to hear.

“Sure,” he says uneasily and climbs into the backseat when Sicheng opens the door for him. The car is spacious inside to match its outside appearance, and Mark sinks into the material of the seat.

It’s dark inside, but Sicheng flicks on a light above him and illuminates their faces. Sicheng’s long ass limbs take up a lot of space in the car, and suddenly Mark’s a little bit nervous.

Sicheng doesn’t beat around the bush. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a crush on me?”

Mark freezes. “Uh.”

“We were so close, Mark. You could have told me anything,” Sicheng says, sounding...betrayed? Wounded?

“That’s not the kind of thing you say to someone without knowing how they’re going to react,” Mark says nervously. “I wouldn’t, at least.”

Sicheng heaves a sigh. “It’s gone now, right?”

With Sicheng looking so good in the low light, Mark’s not one hundred percent sure, but he nods jerkily anyway. Sicheng scoots closer to him.

“Good. Now I can kiss you without guilt.”

Mark’s eyes widen. “Kiss…?”

“I wanted to for a while,” Sicheng confesses. “I just didn’t want to corrupt you when you seemed so focused on your studies.”

How considerate.

“We can do a lot more than kiss,” Mark says, full bold and half foolish.

Sicheng cracks a smile at that and he leans his head on his arm. “Yeah? How much more?”

Mark’s breath hitches at the proximity. “As much as you want.”

“So if I told you,” Sicheng says, fingertips trailing up Mark’s thigh, “that I wanted to kiss you, then blow you, then let you fuck me,” his fingers pause on Mark’s belt buckle, “you would agree?”

Mark swallows, throat suddenly feeling dry. “With enthusiasm.”

Sicheng’s smile barely disappears to let his lips meet Mark’s. He’s grinning so much, and it makes Mark suspicious.

“People usually aren’t this happy to kiss me,” Mark says once they break apart.

“I haven’t seen you in two years and you’re hotter now than you were before,” Sicheng deadpans, and Mark feels every syllable brush between their lips. Sicheng pulls Mark’s belt free of the buckle, “I will probably never come back to Korea after this. It’s as much a treat for you as it is for me.”

Mark lets Sicheng lick into his mouth hungrily. “Something special from Zhejiang,” Mark parrots the elder’s words from earlier, voice like warm honey.

He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s like Mark’s libido will just not quit today. It’s the easiest thing in the world for Mark to get hard when Sicheng creeps his hand into his boxers and strokes with a wrist made of liquid gold. He’s still sensitive from his previous two orgasms, and he pants openly into Sicheng’s mouth.

“Are you always this responsive?” Sicheng says as he pulls away. He doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling away to rummage around in the front seat. Mark takes the opportunity to shuck his jeans down past his knees. His dick hits his stomach way too hard, and he cringes at the feeling.

With the stretch of Sicheng’s long torso over the center console, Mark becomes privy to a strip of paneled stomach, and his toes curl in excitement. Mark loves abs.

Sicheng comes back with a condom and a packet of lube, brandishing both with a glint in his eye. “Oh. Hello,” he says when he realizes Mark’s thighs are now bare. He strips his shirt off and throws it onto the dashboard behind him.

Then begins the struggle of trying to get Mark’s dick into Sicheng’s mouth. They try a couple things—Sicheng sits next to him and tries to lean over, only giving himself pain in his ribs, he tries lunging on the floor behind the passenger side, only nearly giving himself a leg cramp—but none of it works.

Mark can’t help but giggle when Sicheng sits on the center console and tries to lean down, jaw working, but there’s so much distance between his mouth and what it wants and it’s just a little bit ridiculous. Sicheng looks at him incredulously.

“This isn’t working,” Mark says, scooting back against the door and widening his legs. “Come here,” he beckons, making a come hither motion with his hand. Sicheng slots himself between his thighs with ease, and he smiles at the turn of events.

“Finally,” he says before sinking his mouth down on Mark’s cock with absolutely no warning. He’s merciful in just sucking on the tip at first, and Mark tries to keep his hips planted firmly down.

It’s not like anyone would be able to tell from the way Sicheng is sucking him down. He’s ravenous but still somehow neat. He pushes Mark’s dick so far into his mouth, tongue flat and addicting, choking on it like he loves it and would be content to do it for the rest of his life.

If Sicheng’s mouth is amazing, his plush lips only make it better. They trap the heat around Mark, keeping him consistently on edge, and Sicheng sucks so wetly it’s audible.

“Sicheng,” Mark whines in warning, but the elder doesn’t stop. “Sicheng, do you want me to fuck you or not?”

That gets Sicheng’s attention. He pulls off of Mark seemingly at the speed of light, lips glistening under the dim light of the car. Mark could come from the image alone, but he has self control, so he doesn’t.

Sicheng rolls the condom on for him, and Mark is reaching for the lube so he can do his part but Sicheng just shakes his head at him. He reaches behind himself, and when his hand is back in front of Mark’s face, there is a pink glass butt plug between his thin fingers.

Mark’s eyes nearly pop out. “You wore a plug to my birthday party?”

Sicheng shrugs, straddling Mark’s thighs and taking the lube for himself. “What can I say? I know what I want.”

He squirts a generous amount of lube onto Mark’s cock and very slowly sinks down onto him. Mark feels every wisp of air get snatched out of his lungs.

Sicheng is tight, almost deceptively so, and Mark needs the time to adjust as much as Sicheng does. The elder looks shaken, and though Sicheng is likely far more experienced than Mark is—one does not just walk around with a face like that and not get hit on—Mark feels the need to care for him. He uses his thumbs to rub small circles into the skin of Sicheng’s hips, and the elder gives him a grateful smile.

He sits for a few minutes, getting accustomed to the stretch before leaning forward and putting his hands on either side of Mark’s head, balancing a majority of his weight there. He swivels his hips once, experimental and unsure, but the both of them let out twin gasps and Sicheng does it again.

Sicheng always hated skinship, but now, in the backseat of his car, he begs Mark to put his hands all over him.

Mark complies, of course, palms running all over Sicheng’s chest, roaming the skin of his back, holding the cheeks of his ass. He lets Sicheng do most of the work, hips circling broadly and grinding down with purpose. Holding him close is all Mark can do, because letting Sicheng away from him for even a few seconds feels like torture.

Sicheng begins to raise and drop his hips in slow, patient intervals, the sound of their skin meeting completely inaudible. It’s the opposite of what Mark would have imagined. They haven’t seen each other in two years; Mark had expected something hard and fast, lust driven, messy and hasty. Not...whatever this is. It feels emotionally charged, like goodbye sex, but Mark doesn’t really mind when Sicheng’s hole in taking him so well.

Mark closes his eyes and imagines what it would have been like if he just confessed to Sicheng in college. If Sicheng had taken his virginity. If he’d be as soft and loving as he’s being right now.

It makes him oddly overwhelmed, thinking about everything he could have had while feeling it simultaneously. He could have this beautiful man all to himself, could feel the tight, velvet heat whenever either of them so desired, could swallow his shaky half moans with kisses. Mark gets so caught up in memories that he almost forgets the moment.

Almost. Sicheng makes it impossible to forget his presence when he throws his face into the crook of Mark’s neck and rocks his hips forward and back.

Mark takes it upon himself to cup Sicheng’s ass and guide him in his ministrations. The elder squeaks as soon as the calloused skin of Mark’s palms meet his sweat dampened skin, and Mark feels the sound reverberate down his spine.

Sicheng begins to kiss along the salty skin of Mark’s neck, motion of his hips steadfast despite his quickly approaching orgasm. Mark can tell; they’ve shared a room too many times for him to not be able to tell what Sicheng sounds like when he’s right on the edge. His hands leave Sicheng’s ass, one going to his dick and the other going to the back of his neck.

Mark uses the hand on the back of Sicheng’s neck to pull them until they are face to face. Sicheng is so damn stubborn— he refuses to show any signs of orgasm on his features, but Mark can hear it in the barely there whimpers, can feel it in the way Sicheng clenches around his dick, and it’s ultimately useless.

“Kiss me,” Mark mumbles, voice throaty and unintentionally deep, “Kiss me while you come.”

Sicheng’s eyes soften before he slams their lips together, perhaps the first of his actions the entire night that lacked finesse. It’s a sloppy kiss; Mark’s started pumping the length of Sicheng’s cock in his hand, and in turn, Sicheng begins to pant into his mouth. He moans Mark’s name, a plea for something neither of them is quite sure of.

He starts sucking on Mark’s tongue as he comes, hips slowing down the tiniest bit. This makes Mark smile, but he doesn’t move to change him at all. He just allows Sicheng to clench around him in millisecond intervals, pulling Mark’s own orgasm out of him within seconds.

Sicheng collapses against Mark’s chest, nosing against the line of his jaw, and Mark figures he could stay there forever.

(He can’t; he has to go back to the party, and he finds out firsthand how hard it is to get dressed when you’re slick with sweat.)



 

Chapter Text

Mark cashes in on Sicheng’s gift quicker than he was expecting. He waits a little over two months, until the beginning of October, then asked Jaemin if he wanted to go on vacation with him during his fall break so they could bond.

Both Jisung and Donghyuck are in the room when Mark asks, and they both start sputtering when Jaemin answers, “yes”.

“Why do you need to bond with Jaemin?” Donghyuck asks from his spot on the floor.

Mark laughs while Jaemin tries not to look offended. “Jaemin probably spends more time in my apartment than I do. I just want to get him to know him better.”

“You can get to know him better right here in this apartment, you know that right?” Jisung chimes in from next to Donghyuck.

“Yes, I know,” Mark says while rolling his eyes, “but you two twerps could walk in at any time and take him away from me. We are gonna go to a non-Jisung non-Donghyuck zone.”

“Don’t worry,” Jaemin says to Mark, “They’re just going to miss me.”

“Miss you?” Donghyuck scoffs. “Never.”

Jaemin throws himself over both of their laps and leans up to plant a kiss on the edge of Donghyuck’s jaw. “You’re allowed to miss me, you know. If Mark hyung wants to do something nice for me, then let him. You can survive a weekend without me.”

Mark loves the fact that Jaemin calls him hyung, and he loves Jaemin’s ability to silence Donghyuck even more. Jaemin smiles when Donghyuck doesn’t offer any other arguments. He sits up and pets the back of Jisung’s neck to keep him quiet too. “So where are we going?”

Mark lets Jaemin pick the destination and he decides to go to Sardinia, one of Italy’s islands. They leave Incheon at 7AM on Friday, leaving a teary eyed Jisung and an amused Donghyuck behind. They have a great time exploring the island, going to beaches and hiking in the mountains. Jaemin even insists that they go wine tasting, and Mark can hardly say no when he has money to spare.

On the morning before they fly back to Seoul, the two of them go to some fancy restaurant to squander the rest of Mark’s money. Jaemin finishes his food first and sits and waits for Mark to finish. After a small silence, he downs the rest of his espresso and heaves a big sigh.

“Mark, is this,” Jaemin starts, looking troubled, “is this a date?”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow. “What? N—”

Jaemin continues on, ignoring Mark’s denial. “I mean, I’m totally flattered, but the two of us can’t date. I like Jisung.”

Mark feels a sudden surge of pity. He wonders if Jaemin knows about Jisung’s relationship with Donghyuck.

“I hope that works out for you,” Mark says.

“Oh it will,” Jaemin giggles, and Mark’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, “We kissed at the airport before we left.”

The first thing Mark feels is confusion. The second thing he feels is a fierce need to protect Donghyuck from any kind of harm. He can’t help it, but he knows it’s kind of stupid. Jisung isn’t a cheater—it was his own mother’s infidelity that destroyed his family and made his adolescent years excruciating. He’d never do something like that.

Mark doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but they are all adults who are more than capable of figuring shit out themselves.

“Can I tell you something else, Mark?” Jaemin asks, and he looks nervous in a way that Jaemin never is.

Mark leans in closer. “Sure.”

“I also...like Donghyuck,” Jaemin says, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Mark at least has the decency to pretend to be surprised. He leans back and folds his arms across his chest. “Huh.”

Jaemin holds his palms out to Mark. “Please don’t kill me! I like the both of them a lot…” he trails off, batting his eyelashes at Mark, “You know I’ll take good care of them right?”

“What?” Mark says out of instinct. “Jaemin, are you asking for permission?”

Jaemin hangs his head and pulls his hands back into his lap. “Maybe.”

“You are an adult,” Mark reminds him.

“I know ,” Jaemin whines, “But you are so prevalent in their lives and I don’t ever want it to be awkward with you if we end up dating or something.”

Mark lays a hand over Jaemin’s on the top of the table. “I’m not going to hate you. I know you will treat them well.”

Jaemin excuses himself to the bathroom while Mark goes to pay. While the cashier rings him up, Mark thinks about what the three of them dating would look like, and it’s not very different from how they already act.

He’s smiling when Jaemin comes out and stands above him in the restaurant’s foyer. “What’s with the face?” Jaemin teases, poking Mark’s knee through his jeans.

“Nothing,” Mark replies, grin terribly concealed. “You ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin says, “Let’s go home.”






 

“Are you sure you’re fine going alone?” Minseok asks Mark, straightening his jacket as the car pulls up the red carpet drop off.

“I’m sure. I just hope Donghyuck can forgive me,” Mark answers, smoothing out his eyebrows.

It’s a month after Mark and Jaemin return, the night of the Korean National Book Awards. It’s not really a huge deal, not anything like music shows or anything, but they’ve become increasingly more popular because of Mark—or rather, because of Daniel.

Despite their relationship, Mark never took Daniel to the awards show with him. Donghyuck was always his date and attended with Mark every year, before either of them hit it big in their respective careers. The same would have been said for tonight, but it is also the night of Donghyuck’s album launch party, and he has to be in attendance. Mark understands, would never ask him to miss it, and decides to go by himself this year.

When they’d initially compared schedules together and found out about the overlap, Donghyuck suggested asking Jisung. Mark thinks it’d be bizarre to have anyone but Donghyuck there, and Jisung is taking Jaemin as his date anyway. It’s going to be their first appearance in public together and Mark is proud of them for stepping out so soon.

Honestly, in past years, Mark dutifully attended the awards even if he didn’t need to. This year, the one year he wants to skip, he’s nominated for the most awards in his career thus far, and for the most awards of any author that will be in attendance; four. He’s nominated for the awards despite the fact that he released his last novel a little over a year ago. He didn’t even know it was still eligible.

“He’s not even mad at you, Mark. Don’t be dramatic,” Minseok says. “Go get ‘em.”

Mark will never entirely be used to the camera flashes and calls of his name. He can barely see faces, but he smiles at everyone anyway. When he gets to the end of the carpet, they begin throw questions at him and he does his best to keep up with the steady influx of them.

“Mark! You’re alone! Where’s Haechan?”

“Over here, Mark! Do you know about Jisung’s date tonight?”

“Hey Mark, when’s that next book coming out?”

He does pretty well at answering them—flawlessly promoting Donghyuck’s album, confirming that yes, he does know who Jaemin is and states that they are friends, refusing to give a date for the last one—but there’s one question that makes his blood turn hot.

“What do you have to say about Daniel?”

It’s been six months since their break up now, and Mark hasn’t thought about him in five. He smiles tightly, about to give an answer, but another question comes from a different direction.

“You never gave a statement, were the allegations true?”

Mark tries not to scoff at the use of the word allegations; something as simplistic as sex is never that serious. He does find truth in the reporter’s statements though, so he clears his throat and tells everyone the truth.

“Yes, I never had sex with Daniel because I never felt like I was completely ready for it. He dumped me and behaved childishly when I didn’t ‘put out’, Mark says, raising his hands to make air quotes, “as you all read. We have not spoken since then, and I have no desire to speak with him again.”

He sees people rushing to scribble down to write down his words. “Anything else?”

“Are you still a virgin?” comes from the back, strained, but everyone hears it and looks back at Mark with curiosity.

Mark gives his most charismatic smile. “The show is starting soon,” he says, then walks inside of the venue.

It’s not, but he needs an excuse to get away. He slips into his front row seat next to Jaemin and pretends not to notice that he and Jisung are holding hands. Jaemin turns his kilowatt smile away from Jisung for a second to speak to Mark.

“Hey, big fella. Paps bother you?”

“As always,” Mark answers, rubbing his forehead, “They asked me about Daniel.”

Jisung cringes. “ Ew. God, why?”

“I never made a statement and they felt like having one from me was imperative. The poor girl behind me was probably waiting so long for them to finish,” Mark whines.

The three of them continue to make small talk until the show starts and the host walks on the stage. Mark grins brightly and immediately sits up.

Qian Kun has hosted every KNBA since Mark was sixteen, and this night is no different. The awards are broadcasted in both South Korea and China, so they needed someone who can switch between languages easily. He and Mark became friends because Mark wins so many awards, and the walk between backstage and the main seating area is excruciatingly long. Silence was awkward, so they filled it and Mark thoroughly enjoys Kun’s company.

He only sees Kun like six times a year, seeing as Kun mostly works from China, but they make sure to hang out every time he comes. The last time Kun had visited Korea, his hair was light brown, but now he’s blond and smilingly brightly down at the crowd. They cheer politely while Kun starts reading from the teleprompter to present the first award of the night.

Mark and Jaemin make a big deal out of cheering for Jisung when he wins the award, and Kun smiles at them fondly. He sends Mark a little wave before disappearing into the back with Jisung.

Honestly, the award show isn’t terribly interesting. It only becomes fun when one of them goes up to get an award. When Mark goes up to collect his first, he gives Kun a tight hug before giving a thank you speech.

It’s Mark that speaks first when they’re on the walk back. “Hey, Kun. You look good,” he says, trying to convey how much he means it.

Kun laughs and swats his arm. “Thank you, so do you. How have you been?”

Mark shifts his award into his other hand. “I’ve been great honestly.”

“Even without Daniel?” Kun asks, knowing how much Mark liked him.

Mark only scoffs. “ Especially without Daniel.”

Kun hums, hugging Mark closer by the waist. “That’s good then. Why are you all alone tonight?”

Mark tries to calm himself and remember that Kun is always this affectionate. He’s like Donghyuck or Jaemin, only older and hotter and—

He’s so fucked.

“Donghyuck’s album comes out tonight and his management is throwing a party for him,” Mark explains, “it’s a big deal for him. I can’t wait to have the house all to myself tonight.”

Kun gives him a confused look. “No Jisung?”

“I doubt it,” Mark shrugs, “He probably wants to do something with Jaemin.”

“Why don’t I come over and hang out?” Kun suggests. “I don’t go back to China for two more days.”

“Okay but be warned; I’m going to murder your ass at Mario Kart,” Mark agrees.

Kun chuckles and pulls Mark in for another embrace before they part ways. “Somehow I doubt that you could destroy my ass at anything.”

Mark chooses not to comment on that one.







Mark, like the embarrassing hyung he is, insists that Jisung joins him for pictures of their haul before he leaves. Between the two of them, they win seven awards: Most Original Book, Best Science Fiction, Best Thriller, and Young People’s Literature for Jisung and Best Erotica, Best Fiction, and the Screenplay Grant for Mark.

The Screenplay Grant is kind of a big fucking deal. The International Board of Literature chooses one author from all over the world and gives fifty billion won to the winner to turn their novel into a huge blockbuster movie. The award and honor itself are already huge, but characteristics of the novel chosen make his win absolutely earth shattering.

Mark’s last release, A Servant’s Tears, is about Choi Chanhee, a young musician who summons a demon to help save his sick mother. He summons the demon of lust by accident, who possesses him and drives him to seduce his best friend Changmin. Towards the book’s end, there is an extraction process, an exorcism, and there’s an unreasonably vague threesome scene that made Jisung run away in terror once he read it.

The book is everything the mainstream media hates; a gay couple, explicit sex, blatant rejection of Christianity and its themes. And it’s going to be a big budget movie. Mark can hardly wait.

Once Mark finishes pestering Jisung, he goes back into the venue where Kun said he’d be waiting. He turns around when he hears the door open. “Ready to go?”

Mark nods his head, gripping his awards a little tighter when Kun rests his hand on the small of his back and guides him outside. Kun’s valet arrives quickly, and the driver doesn’t even look at the owner of the car when he tosses the keys to him. His eyes are on Mark, a shocked expression on his face.

Kun says something in Chinese, a word of thanks most likely, and Mark stares right back at ‘Zeren’ before the driver bows at him and scurries away.

The drive to Mark’s place is short but very...tense. There’s something electric in the air between them, and Mark almost fools himself into thinking it’s normal.

When he thinks about it, it probably is normal. Kun had been close to Mark before and during the time he was dating Daniel. Mark has been told by several people, hookups included, that he looks better now than he ever has, and this is the first time he’s been completely available in three years. Mark had always regarded Kun as just a friend—a handsome, affectionate friend, but a friend nonetheless. Had he been missing all of the signs? Did Kun... like him?

Did he like Kun?

He gets ripped from his thoughts by the parking of the car and the sound of the person in question clearing his throat. Mark turns to look at him curiously and notices that Kun’s drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. That’s only something he does out of nervousness, and Mark immediately knows he hadn’t been imagining the intensity in the car.

When Kun reaches across the center console to pull Mark into a kiss, he goes willingly. It’s as soft as Mark had been expecting, and it’s almost like he can taste Kun’s trepidation.

Mark presses himself into Kun, tongue darting out to seek and envelop, and Kun only whines at the sudden change of pace. As if not to be left behind, he parts his lips and lets Mark do what he wants. Mark latches onto the opportunity, body moving on autopilot as he goes to straddle Kun’s lap. The elder stops him with a gentle hand on his waist.

“Shouldn’t we go inside?” he asks, eyes flickering down to Mark’s mouth like it pained him to separate for even a second.

Mark licks his lips, resisting the urge to smile when Kun follows the movement. “Yeah, let’s,” he says, breathing slightly labored, “let’s go inside.”

He can barely keep his hands to himself in the elevator, but Mark would be damned before he let his neighbor Yanjun see him in a compromising position again. Kun stands so close to Mark and it makes him stupidly nervous. His hands shake as he tries to get the key in the lock.

When they finally get inside, Kun slams him on a wall adjacent to the door. Mark’s breath stutters at the action alone, but it halts all together when Kun leans in close and whispers, “I have wanted to do this with you for such a long time.”

Mark bares his neck and Kun gets the message, inclining his head down to kiss along the skin roughly. His hips are jutting forward, pressing into Kun’s, and Kun pushes them back against the wall with so much force that Mark feels like his tailbone will bruise. The mere thought of it makes him excited.

“I have to have you,” Kun says, candid and frank in a way Mark adores, “I need it.”

If this is going where Mark thinks it is, he’s shocked by how much he reciprocates. It’s like Daniel had blocked any other man from Mark’s view; Mark had never even considered being with another man while they were dating. But now with Daniel out of the picture for good, Mark’s overwhelmed by his attraction to Kun, mentally, emotionally, and most prominent right now, physically.

Mark is just looking at him with his chest heaving, taken aback because Kun, calm, collected, kind Kun wants to fuck Mark right there in his living room.

“Please,” Mark says.

Despite them being relatively the same size, Kun bends his knees a little bit to pick Mark up and carry him further into the living room. He deposits him on the edge of one of the couches, and Mark spreads his thighs to let Kun between them.

They start kissing again, and while grinding his hips upward into Kun, Mark can’t help but acknowledge that there’s been way more kisses now than there were between Mark and any previous hookup. He only stops thinking about it when Kun unbuckles his belt, mind going carefully blank.

Mark nearly whines when Kun separates from him, but it’s worth it when Kun begins to take his clothes off. He watches with keen, interested eyes but he notices that his chest is looking suspiciously...pink? Kun is blushing?

“Hey,” Mark says softly, reaching out to caress Kun’s cheek, “Why are you shy? It’s just me.”

“You’ve never been just you,” Kun says before leaning in to kiss him with insistence. He seems to juxtapose all of his sweet words with rough actions, but Mark doesn’t care at all. If Kun was going to fuck him hard, Mark would adore him all the more for it.

“The lube is in your room?” Kun asks, and continues on when Mark nods, “I want you undressed and bent over the couch when I come back.”

Mark has never gotten undressed so quickly in his life. He throws himself over the arm of the couch, even going as far to spread his cheeks apart for Kun.

The only warning Mark gets before Kun slips a finger into him is the drizzling of lube directly onto his hole. One finger doesn't make Mark react and it enters him with relative ease. Even though Mark cannot see anything that’s going on, his spine pricks with heat and he can just feel Kun’s eyes on him. Mark wonders what he looks like, if his eyes are blown wide or if he’s licking his lips.

The thought of Kun enjoying the view of Mark’s ass expanding around his finger makes Mark shift his hips a little. Kun takes that as his a sign to continue, adding another finger to Mark's ass. The younger moans, soft and distracted, burying his face in the couch cushion.

Kun scissors his fingers to make room for another, simultaneously thrusting his fingers in. Mark cries out, muffled by the cushion, and he pushes his hips back without much thought. It’s Mark’s actions that send Kun’s fingers straight to his prostate, and Kun is startled by how loud Mark moans.

Mark’s muscles commit mutiny and refuse to hold him up and he’s boneless against the arm of the couch, cock so frustratingly hard between his thighs and Kun just wants to be done with this part so he can fuck Mark until he cries. Mark’s breathing is labored and raggedy, but he jumps when Kun twists his wrist and presses the pads of his fingers against the upper wall.

"Please," Mark whimpers, “I can’t take it.”

Kun reacts quickly, lubing himself up for entry. He holds a hand steady against Mark’s hip as he pushes in, and Mark’s hole sucks him in beautifully.

Mark raises up onto his elbows, “Fuck,” he whispers, head hanging, “Shit.”

Maybe he’s gone too long without being fucked, but Kun feels like magic inside him, especially when he starts to move. Kun has this fluid way of moving his hips that’s making Mark insane, mouth falling open to pant against the cushions.

Mark is so loud , vocal cords healthy as he moans without a care in the world. Kun is unbearably thick, pressing into him in all the right ways, and it feels so good he couldn’t even imagine trying to restrain himself. Kun pounds into Mark at a steady rhythm, and he holds Mark’s waist in a tight grip for leverage.

One of Kun’s hands slides from Mark’s waist, up his spine and to the base of his neck. He presses Mark’s head down into the pillow he’s grabbed onto, smothering him slightly. Mark turns his head to the side so he can breathe, but otherwise, he lets Kun fuck him and handle him how he wants.

Kum notices this, of course, and stutter fucks Mark momentarily. “Fuck, you are so perfect,” he moans, “like a dream come true.”

Mark blushes darkly at the words, but hopes Kun’s far enough away to not see it.

“Please,” Mark begs, “Please, please, please,” he repeats like a mantra.

“What do you want, baby?” Kun asks him, “Tell me what you want and you can have it.”

“I want— fuck— I want to come,” Mark pleads, voice scratchy and trembling like he hasn’t used it in years.

“Oh,” Kun says, sounding so falsely pitying that Mark gets chills, “I was going to let you do that anyway, baby boy.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, Kun winds his arm back and smacks the curve of Mark’s ass hard. The sound of it echoes through the room.

Kun‘s slap hurts like hell, but it feels so fucking good and Mark blindly reaches out to ground himself. In this reach, he accidentally brushes his hand over the remote control and turns the TV on. This wouldn’t be such a big deal, but the screen comes to life and—

It’s Mark. Mark is on the TV.

It’s a picture of him and Jaemin leaving the airport, laughing and looking like the friends they are. It’s really not an incriminating photo, but the anchors continue speaking and Mark can hardly believe his ears.

“Mark Lee has been seen with several different men recently,” the woman says, swiping at her tablet. A screenshot from Donghyuck’s snapchat on Mark’s birthday appears next, Johnny sitting on Mark’s lap, mid strip performance, “and it has fans wondering.”

“The young writer has been spotted several times leaving buildings at late hours by himself,” the male anchor interjects. Then there’s a really unnecessary slideshow of grainy photos of vaguely Mark-shaped people, “As someone outed as celibate by his previous boyfriend Kang Daniel, this doesn’t seem to be the most celibate behavior, Nayoung.”

Mark wants to be angry at the hyper fixation on his sex life, wants to be annoyed by the fact that Daniel’s fans followed him around and submitted this weak ass article, but at the moment, all he feels is shame.

Mark feels abysmally ashamed at how much he’s been acting like a whore, but it’s not the sorrowful kind of shame; it’s the dizzying, erotic kind that makes heat burn through his body. It’s only doubled by the fact that Kun starts fucking him harder, faster while listening to the anchors.

Kun grabs a fistful of Mark’s hair and pulls him up so Mark’s back is to his chest. “Look, baby, the whole of Korea knows how indecent you are.”

Mark whines, head dropping back to rest against Kun’s shoulder, “Please.”

The elder grinds up into Mark dips his head to whisper into his neck, “That wasn’t enough? Do you need me to tell you how much of a slut you are too?”

And Mark just comes, dick standing proud and his thighs shaking as the feeling takes over him. Kun fucks him through it, a little more gentle than he was previously. Mark tries to fall forward, but Kun secures an arm around his midsection and keeps him standing.

Mark’s little dick doesn’t even wane at all after he comes. Kun doesn’t stop fucking him either, spitting in his hand and wrapping it around the length. “You’re still hard? You like being told you’re a fucking whore? Do you like that everyone else knows it too?”

He can barely even answer, hips fucking back onto Kun with a mind of their own. Mark realizes, quite belatedly, that he probably seems so insatiable to Kun and his cheeks get hot.

“You gonna come for me again?” Kun asks, stroking Mark faster. He’s given up on trying to maintain the same pace of hip and hand, now only fucking into Mark in hard, short bursts.

Mark doesn’t answer, eyes falling shut as he waits for his second orgasm to hit, but Kun isn’t having it. The forearm that was wrapped securely around Mark’s torso disappears and manifests around his neck, and Mark’s eyes fly open in surprise.

“I asked you a question,” Kun says, voice still as sweet as always, and Mark is only able to get out “Ye—” before he comes again, dirtying Kun’s hand and whining from oversensitivity.

He collapses forward and this time Kun lets him slump over the arm of the chair. Kun follows his lead right after, pulling out to jerk off over the curve of Mark’s ass, and Mark cannot help but be a tiny bit disappointed that Kun didn’t come inside of him.

Mark flops over to his back and drags Kun down for a slow kiss, and there’s something about it that feels right , despite his own come smeared and cooling between his back and the couch.

He breaks the kiss and runs his hand up and down Kun’s right bicep. “You can stay the night if you want,” Mark offers timidly.

Kun just grins at him. “I’d like that.”

“We need to take a shower first. We’re not getting into my bed like this,” Mark says, and untangles their limbs so he can walk down the hallway to the bathroom.

He knows Kun is right on his heels without having to look back.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Text

The day after the award show, Mark has to go get photographed with his awards for a literature magazine. He’s due there by 9:30 and the shooting is supposed to start at 10, which Minseok deems too early for himself to be awake. He sends Mark a text to tell him he’s on his own just this once, and Mark’s surprised to say the least. Minseok never misses a schedule.

That’s not to say he isn’t excited about it. Mark and Kun eat breakfast together, and Kun drives Mark to the photography center. There’s a slow, lingering kiss before Mark leaves, and Kun looks at Mark so fondly he thinks he might burst.

They didn’t talk about feelings, nothing was made official, but they didn’t really need to do any of that. When they are ready to date officially, they will discuss it. Deep down, Mark thinks it’s hilarious that sex with Kun was all it took to put a stop to his whorish tirade.

That is, of course, until he walks to the designated studio and lays eyes on Lee Taeyong in person.   

In his excitement, Mark arrives closer to 9 than 9:30, when the popular model’s shoot is still going on. He tries to make a u-turn, go and get some coffee, come back when it is appropriate, but the photographer doesn’t let him.

He lowers the camera and it’s Leeteuk, the same person who will be photographing Mark. He motions for Mark to come over, and it’s not like Mark can say no.

He can barely get through the small talk with Leeteuk, not when Taeyong is laying on set looking like the perfect representation of masculine beauty. Taeyong is shirtless, very near naked actually, and just seeing him out of the corner of his eye makes Mark’s little gay heart jump.

His little gay heart jumps again when Taeyong stands up with a whine on his lips, “I want to meet him too!”

One of the staff rushes to get Taeyong his robe so he is a little more decent, and the model accepts it with a sweet smile and a bow. It’s fluffy and pink with his name embroidered on the back, and it looks like something that would belong to someone like Taeyong. Mark peeks out of the corner of his eye, and is half relieved half disappointed that he isn’t privy to the smooth skin and lean muscle anymore.

“I’m Taeyong,” Taeyong says, like anyone in Korea doesn’t know his face. Apart from being one of the most objectively handsome people ever born, Taeyong is also a spokesperson and advocate for a popular youth group. Mark couldn’t go a day without seeing his face; it’s on billboards, in magazines, in the media.

Mark takes the offered hand, giving it a nice strong shake. “Mark Lee,” he responds.

Leeteuk steps away to let them speak, and Taeyong is completely unsubtle in the way he looks Mark up and down. Mark is having a difficult time discerning whether that was intentional or not. “Oh I know you,” Taeyong says, and Mark’s heart nearly stops, “you’ve set the media ablaze.”

“That’s mildly terrifying,” Mark blurts, and Taeyong lets out a hiccuping laugh.

“It is, isn’t it? They’ve been especially terrible to you,” is Taeyong’s sad sounding response. He suddenly raises his head, “I can give you some pointers on how to manage it if you want!”

Mark looks perplexed. “Aren’t you always busy?”

“Nope, this is my only schedule today. How about it?”

“Sure,” Mark agrees. “My shoot shouldn’t last that long and we can talk afterward.”

“Excellent,” Taeyong says, “I’ll wait for you in the dressing room when I’m finished.”

“I’m on my way there now. Can you show me?” Mark asks, adjusting the strap on his bookbag.

Taeyong murmurs a quick word to Leeteuk then walks Mark in the direction of the hallway. They would have gotten to the room faster, but Mark kept stopping to look at the photographs on the walls. Taeyong waits patiently while he takes it in, smiling when Mark comes to a complete halt at a picture of him.

When they finally get to the dressing room, there’s a vibration in Mark’s back pocket. He pulls his phone out and reads the text from Leeteuk out loud.

“Wherever you and Taeyong went, you don’t have to come back for a while,” he reads, eyes flickering up to Taeyong, “Our system shut down and it will take a while to get it up and running again.”

Taeyong sighs and folds his arms over his chest. “Mid-shoot?”

“That’s got to suck,” Mark says, putting his bag down, “does that happen often?”

“Not during Leeteuk’s shoots,” Taeyong says. He plops down next to Mark and knocks their knees together, “you sure you didn’t tamper with the equipment to get me alone?”

Taeyong’s joking, obviously, and Mark didn’t tamper with anything, which is also obvious. That doesn’t stop Mark from feeling nervous at the small accusation.

The more immediate issue is that Taeyong has seen the way Mark has been looking at him. Or maybe he’s just so used to people wanting him that it doesn’t alarm him anymore. Either way, Taeyong doesn’t seem to mind being desired, and if the way he’s leaning into Mark is any indication, reciprocates at least a little.

Of course, Mark’s mind glosses over all of that and only focuses on the prospect of Taeyong thinking he’s some kind of pervert, a scoundrel.

“Tamper? No,” Mark exclaims, voice reedy and anxious.

Taeyong laughs at him. “I’m joking, Mark. You know what that is, right?”

Mark nods stiffly, the playful tone going right over his head once again, “Yes.”

Taeyong leans in close, peering at Mark carefully. The author leans back, but his eyes remain trained on the model, eyes glazed over and starry. Taeyong merely chuckles and pulls back to give Mark a little breathing room.

“Can I kiss you?” Taeyong asks, completely enjoying the way Mark swallows nervously.

“Yes,” Mark repeats, like it’s the only word he knows.

Taeyong smiles brightly before leaning in. He kisses Mark softly, seeing if he will actually reciprocate, and deepens the kiss once he does. He licks into Mark’s mouth carefully but Mark is having none of it, pressing into him with insistence. He crawls into Taeyong’s lap, cupping his face and kissing him until his own lungs start to burn from oxygen deprivation.

Taeyong presses a steadying hand to Mark’s chest and they part, Mark settling back down on the couch like nothing had happened. He is momentarily embarrassed by his forwardness, and he folds his hands into his lap and stares forward at the wall until Taeyong clears his throat.

“Well,” Mark says, shifting so his torso is facing Taeyong, “What do we do now?”

“Now I give you those pointers I was talking about,” Taeyong replies. Mark is half disappointed at the change in atmosphere, but any of that feeling goes out of the window when Taeyong slides down to his knees in front of Mark.

“What are you doing?” Mark asks as Taeyong begins to undo the button on his jeans. Despite the question, he shifts his hips upwards so Taeyong can pull them down to his knees. Taeyong smirks handsomely at this.

“Pointers to managing social media,” Taeyong begins, rubbing a stupidly soft hand over Mark’s dick in his boxers, “Don’t think about it.”

He licks a broad stripe over one the palm of one hand and uses the other pull Mark’s dick out of his underwear. Mark’s only half hard, but that changes as soon as Taeyong gets his hands on him. His body responds before his mind does, hips arching into Taeyong’s grip.

“Are you thinking about it?” Taeyong asks before pressing a kiss to the tip. Mark sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Thinking about what?” is Mark’s response, genuinely confused, but to Taeyong it sounds witty. He gives Mark a killer smile.

“Good,” he purrs, taking the tip of Mark’s dick in his mouth right after.

Taeyong is a youth ambassador, a role model, so he must be able to speak well to maintain that image. Right then, Mark learns that talking is not the only brilliant thing Taeyong does with his mouth.

Unintended, a moan escapes Mark’s lips and as one hand comes to grapple onto Taeyong's hair for dear life, the other comes to cover his mouth.

A hot, swirling tongue encases the head of his cock before Taeyong starts to suck, tongue lapping briefly at the slit. Mark mewls, muffled behind his hand. A hand rises up to caress his sac as Taeyong takes him even further into his mouth, and Mark’s hips jerk dangerously.

Mark begins whimpering out stuttered cries of Taeyong’s name, among the word 'please' and other incoherent noises. They way Mark moans is sweet and pretty, and Taeyong loves them so much that he dips his hands into his briefs and strokes himself to them.

Taeyong continues to take him further, tongue running in patterns up the underside of his erection as he hollows out his cheeks. He bobs his head rhythmically, tongue easily creating complex patterns with the tip of his tongue as he sucks.

Mark’s hand leaves Taeyong as he scrambles to get his bag. His hand bypasses all of his awards to grab a condom and bottle of lube. He puts the condom next to him on the couch, but keeps the lube in his hand, unsure of what to do with it.

Taeyong holds his fingers out for Mark to squirt the lube out onto, and reaches behind himself to fuck himself open right after. Mark had been expecting that. Taeyong looks every bit like a bottom; his sinewy arms and lean stomach are offset by his gentle features. He’s undeniably pretty, like a porcelain doll, and Mark wants to fuck him until he shatters like one too.

Taeyong seems to be great at multitasking. He’s prepping himself while giving Mark the blowjob of his life (sorry Jaehyun), relying only on his lips and tongue to do the work. It’s sloppy without the use of hands, but Mark likes it that way.

There’s heat spreading into the tips of Mark’s toes, his whole body tensing as his other hand comes to rest in Taeyong's hair, pulling lightly in warning. Taeyong doesn’t pull back, instead bobbing his head harder, deeper, taking as much of Mark into his mouth as possible. Mark’s vision goes spotty, but Taeyong holds the base tightly, ensuring that nothing happens. Mark can’t help but loathe the dry orgasm.

Taeyong steps out of his robe, kicks off his briefs completely and kneels on one of the couch cushions, sticking his little butt out. Mark gets the message, taking his clothes off at lightning speed. He rolls the condom onto himself and coats it with a good amount of lube. He’s about to push in but Taeyong stops him with a delicate hand on his wrist.

“Let me do it,” he says, and Mark allows it. He juts his hips forward to make it easier for the both of them. Taeyong grips his length firmly and guides it to his puckered hole, sighing contentedly when the he rubs the tip against his rim.

“Pointers to managing social media lesson two,” Taeyong says, pushing his hips back to meet Mark’s in one smooth motion, “Tune it out.”

This pointer seems a little similar to the first, but Mark can barely register that when Taeyong starts to fuck himself back. “Are you tuning it out?” he asks.

The only thing besides Taeyong’s voice that Mark can hear is white noise—no clicking of cameras, no hurries footsteps, no frantic voices—and he nods jerkily before he realizes Taeyong can’t see him.

“Yes, I’m tuning it out,” Mark confirms. He rocks his hips forward, but he accidentally does it too hard and sends Taeyong sprawling over the arm of the couch, “the only thing I can feel is you.”

Taeyong’s ears turn suspiciously pink after Mark’s comment. He drapes himself over the arm properly, sticking his hips out. “Good. Now fuck me.”

Mark lets out a sigh, leaning over to kiss Taeyong’s shoulder blade before beginning to work himself in and out of the soaking hole. The movement is enough to pull a brittle moan from his lips.

Bracing a hand next to Taeyong’s head, Mark rests his forehead in between his shoulder blades. He starts slow, steady, building a rhythm. Even with a condom on, the pleasure is maddening. Mark wraps his free arm around Taeyong’s waist to pull his body closer. Mark wanted to feel every inch.

Mark adjusts his knees to press in closer, his large hands squeezing at Taeyong’s hips. Taeyong arches his spine, using the enticingly erotic curve it creates to push back against Mark, willing him to go harder, faster. Mark obliges, the sound of their skin meeting rising in volume, completely swallowing their moans and sighs.

As the far too familiar build up of orgasm begins to burn inside Mark’s belly, he grips onto Taeyong’s hips tighter and picked up the pace of his thrusts. Taeyong’s mouth hung open, moaning audibly with every thrust inside of him.

“You’re getting sloppy,” Taeyong pants, breathless, shifting away from Mark to position himself in a different way. He lays on his back, legs spread, and Mark is about to ask why before Taeyong finishes his statement, “I want to see you when you come.”

The notion of Lee Taeyong wanting to look at him as he comes apart makes Mark a tiny bit nervous, and he shakes so bad he misses the hole when he tries to guide himself back into him. Taeyong watches on, amused by his sudden clumsiness.

“You’re trembling,” he comments when Mark finally bottoms out once again. “Do I frighten you?”

“A little bit,” Mark admits.

Taeyong reaches an arm up and hooks it around Mark shoulder, pulling him down so that his ear is next to Taeyong’s shoulder. “Pointers to managing social media lesson three,” he begins, pausing to rake his nails down Mark’s bare back hard , “toughen up.”

Mark moans so loud that Taeyong has to clap a hand over his mouth. If the shaking had subsided before, it’s definitely back now, so much so that Mark nearly collapses on top of Taeyong. The sensation felt odd, burning in the moment but cool afterward, and much hotter than Mark would have ever imagined.

He tries to right himself so he can have more leverage, but Taeyong isn’t having any of it. He holds Mark close, limiting his motion to only an unbearable rotation of his hips. Taeyong uses this close proximity to dig his nails into Mark’s back and leave temporary scratches along the skin.

He chuckles to himself about the tiny whimpering sounds Mark is making, but he mirrors them with his own when Mark reaches a hand between them to jerk him off. Immediately afterwards, Mark seems to angle himself in just the right way, and he brushes against Taeyong’s prostate.

Taeyong whines, hips bucking up frantically. Mark pushes them back down, holding him in the place where he wants him. Despite all the squirming around he is doing, Taeyong just cannot dislodge Mark’s hand. This unprecedented show of strength makes Taeyong feel especially helpless, and he throws his head back in half arousal half despair. Mark takes advantage of this exposure, pressing close mouthed kisses against his neck.

This final bit of stimulation proves to be too much for Taeyong, and Mark raises his head from Taeyong’s neck just in time to see him come. He looks like some kind of otherworldly, sinful angel (a demon, Mark’s Christian mind helpfully supplies), and just the image is going to be something Mark conjures up in his brain when he needs a quick orgasm.

Mark breaks free of Taeyong’s arms to right himself and finish himself properly. He hooks his arms around Taeyong’s small hips, pulling them forward as he pounds into him. Some of Taeyong’s come still lingers on his hand, and he sweeps it up with his fingers and brings them to his mouth to taste himself. He licks his fingers clean, successfully creating another memory for Mark to cling onto until he dies.

Taeyong is overstimulated, making these little “ah ah ah” sounds with every thrust, and he sounds so wrecked that Mark can’t take it anymore. He comes with his head thrown back, hips still stuttering through the motions. Mark feels slim fingers tracing the creases of his muscles, and he distinctly hears something that sounds suspiciously like the word ‘pretty’ as he empties himself into the condom.

About a minute of just breathing, Taeyong receives a text from Leeteuk and reads it out loud.

You can come back now

It’s timed a little too well, and Mark is seized by fear when he realizes that all of the staff probably knew what they got up to in there. He groans and rolls off of Taeyong to clean up, ears turning pink.

Taeyong looks every bit as perfect as he did when he left the set, only with redder lips. Mark, on the other hand, looks like a fucking disaster, and Taeyong laughs at him as he whines this into the mirror.

He stands up on shaky legs and pulls his briefs and robe back on. On his way out, Taeyong pats Mark on his bare ass and says, “Hair and makeup, Mark. They are magical.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says as he searches for his shirt.

“See you out there,” Taeyong purrs, shutting the door behind him. Mark almost faints when the reality of the past half hour sets in.

He fucked Lee Taeyong. Lee Taeyong said he was pretty. Mark feels like he can die happy.





(“Guess who just fucked Lee fucking Taeyo—oh my god,” Mark announces when he arrives home, only to cut himself off when he sees the nonsense happening in his living room.

Jaemin and Donghyuck are making out on the couch, the other actual occupant of the apartment nowhere in sight. Mark cringes when he realizes that Jaemin is pressed up against the arm that he was bent over the night prior.

Mark slaps a hand over his eyes. “Where is my actual roommate?”

The two of them don’t even have the decency to spring apart and be sheepish. Mark hears their lips separating, and it only comes after he’s asked the question.

“Taking a nap,” Jaemin answers, connecting their lips again immediately afterward. Mark rolls his eyes behind his hand, beginning to walk back to his room with only spatial intelligence as his guide. He refuses to see any more of that.

“We’re going to talk about that story later!” Donghyuck calls after him.)

Chapter Text

The day Neo Culture Technology has its first premier is hectic from start to finish.

After 18 months of writing, casting, filming, re-filming, editing and negotiating, there is a finished product ready to be shown on the big screen. Movie critics are buzzing and so is the general population, even though the movie doesn’t get released to them for another week.

Of course, Jisung stays in bed pretty much the entire day. It’s a film adaptation of his book, but he refuses to make his legs work.

“Cancel all of my press conferences,” Mark hears Jisung tell his agent Hoya over the phone the night before. “Tomorrow is special.”

The home phone Jisung had insisted they get has been blowing up all day long, call after call, and the mailbox is full of news and media outlets trying to hear Jisung’s final thoughts. It’s so extreme that Mark has to unplug the damn thing from the wall to make it stop.

Jisung’s not doing anything really important. He’s laying in his bed with Donghyuck and Jaemin, getting spoiled like a baby. Soon after they confessed to Mark that the three of them were dating, Jisung had gone and invested in a king sized bed to accommodate all of them after making sure their relationship didn’t bother Mark. Mark could never be bothered by his best friends being happy and probably in love. Dealing with how childishly noisy they are at night is a small price to pay to be able to see Donghyuck shine brighter than he has in any of the almost twenty years Mark has known him.

Tonight, Mark and Jisung’s apartment squeals to accommodate so many. Besides the four people who are typically in the apartment anyway, Jeno and Renju show up as well. Mark becomes oddly fond of Jeno, and with Jeno comes Renjun. Jisung and Chenle make fast friends as well. They’re all each other’s friends now. Even if it’s hard to hang out all together, they cleared their schedules for this day. This is important. Jisung is important.

They are waiting for Chenle to arrive so they can all leave together. Mark leans against the bar in the kitchen, because there is a different man on literally every other surface besides the floor, and Mark refuses to sit on the floor in his own apartment.

Jeno gets up from the couch and saunters over to him. “Hi, Mark hyung,” he greets.

One reason among many that Mark loves Jeno--he actually calls him hyung like he is supposed to. “Hey Jeno, what’s up?”

Jeno starts digging in his pocket and after a bit of struggle, he digs out a small black object. A flashdrive,  Mark realizes when Jeno drops it into his palm. “What’s this?”

“A copy of Jungwoo hyung’s dissertation,” Jeno explains, “he did really well on it and thought you’d like to read it.”

Mark is flattered that Jungwoo even remembered him. Then he starts thinking about how hot Jungwoo had been, how condescending, and his cheeks turn pink. He takes a sip of his ice water, willing the thoughts away. They’re dangerous to have when all of his relentless dongsaengs are lingering around.

Mark closes his hand around the flashdrive. “I’ll read it tomorrow, thanks Jeno,” he says. He walks back to his room to put it next to his laptop, and he hears the doorbell ring. Right as Mark leaves his room, he hears Donghyuck’s voice clear as day:

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Mark rushes out to see Yukhei standing in the doorway, looking completely overwhelmed. He walks over to him and grabs his hand, dragging him inside and past Jisung, who had answered the door.

“Yukhei is my date ,” Mark hisses at Donghyuck after pushing said date behind him, “be nice.”

Mark watches as his best friend processes the words, resisting the urge to smile when he grimaces like he is in agonizing pain. Donghyuck groans out loud and throws himself at Jaemin, burrowing into his side.

“That is literally the worst fucking sentence I have ever heard,” he complains.

Mark sticks his tongue out immaturely. “You’re dating my friend and now I’m dating yours. How does it feel?”

“Awful,” Donghyuck says, even if there is a tiny smile playing at his lips.

Mark ends the conversation and tugs Yukhei into the kitchen, and he follows without complaint. He sits on one of the stools, resting a chin on his palm. “Haechan is taking it really hard,” he jokes.

“A drama queen, that one is,’ Mark says. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“No thanks,” Yukhei responds. He turns one of the stools around. “I just realized I’ve never been to your apartment before.”

Once Kun had sat Mark down and told him that long distance wouldn’t work for him, Mark had let go. They still hung out the last time Kun came around, but that was months ago. Mark sincerely hopes that he’s doing well, and he suspects that he is. A few days ago when he was on instagram, he’d scrolled past a picture of Kun kissing Sicheng of all people . After recovering from the out of body experience that caused him, Mark concludes that the both of them are doing just fine.

Mark and Yukhei started dating a few days ago. There was months of sex and courtship, in that order, but they officially became boyfriends recently. Mark had conveniently forgotten to tell Donghyuck that he would be seeing more of Yukhei than he probably wanted, but at the same time, he was not given that luxury when Jisung’s boyfriends began setting up camp in his home every weekend.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Mark apologizes sheepishly. “It’s always kind of full because Jisung doesn’t leave the house and Jaemin never leaves Jisung.”

Yukhei pulls Mark closer by the waist. “And there’s more privacy in my apartment. I get it. I like your place though.”

Mark hums and gives his boyfriend a kiss on the forehead. “Mmm, thank you.”

Yukhei tilts his head up, silently asking for another kiss but on the lips this time. Mark leans in to oblige but gets stopped by Jisung shouting from the living room.

“Chenle’s already at the theater,” he says. “He thought we were meeting there.”

Renjun stands up with a frustrated groan. “He better have saved us seats.”

No one tells him that they’re coming in with the literal author of the book the movie is based on, so their seats are pretty much guaranteed, but they get ready to leave anyway. Mark grabs Yukhei’s hand and leads him to the congregation near the door.

“Let’s go watch a movie!” Jaemin shouts as they pile into the elevator, and the rest of the group, much to Jisung’s embarrassment, give a resounding cheer as the doors close.







After an intense game of rock, paper, scissors, Mark, Donghyuck and Yukhei are chosen to go get the movie snacks for all eight of them. They get through the ridiculous order and are standing and watching the popcorn being made when there’s a clearing of a throat behind them.

Mark turns around, and his world kind just...freezes.

It’s Daniel. Daniel is there, in the movie theater, standing in front of him.

Mark should have known he would be here. Seongwoo, Daniel’s new boyfriend, is the male lead of the movie. That completely slipped Mark’s mind, and he wasn’t really prepared to see him. Mark’s brain goes blank.

It’s not like he still has any feelings for Daniel, or Daniel traumatized him or something like that. He had just anticipated never having to see him again. Mark feels kind of disarmed, and he just stares for a few seconds.

Donghyuck and Yukhei, however, become defensive immediately. Donghyuck shifts to stand in front of him a little bit, and Mark’s heart warms.

“Hi, Mark,” Daniel says. “Can we talk?”

“No,” Yukhei snaps.

Daniel gives him a quick once over. “Who is this?” he asks, jabbing a thumb in Yukhei’s direction, “Your guard dog?”

Mark has to drag both Yukhei and Donghyuck back at the same time. “We are here for Jisung, ” Mark hisses at them, “You two are going to carry that food back in to our friends, and I’m going to talk to him and see what he has to say. I’ll be back before the movie begins.”

“Mark,” Yukhei pleads, quiet. Mark squeezes his arm lightly.

“I’ll be fine. He’s not important to me anymore,” Mark replies.  He pivots on his heel, facing Daniel, “lead the way.”

Daniel starts walking in the direction of the old staircase, and Mark immediately knows where they’re going. There used to be a theater on the second floor of the building, but it’s more of a storage room now. The owner of the theater, a big hockey fan, gave Daniel clearance to the room a few years ago. They used to sneak up there to make out all the time, and Mark absolutely despises the influx of emotions he feels as soon as he steps through the door.

“Is there a particular reason you decided to show up here, ask to speak to me, and then insult my boyfriend?” Mark asks, leaning against the wall.

Daniel blanches. “That was your boyfriend? Shit, I am so sorry.”

Mark waves his hand at him. “I’d tell you to give your apology straight to him, but he might punch you or something, so I’ll just pass the message along.”

“I didn’t know you like them violent,” Daniel jokes, but he mutters a quick “sorry” right after when he sees the blank look Mark gives him.

“Did you bring me in here to waste my time?” Mark asks, sounding a lot harsher than he meant to. He decides he doesn’t care when Daniel flinched away from him. “I’m here to support one of my best friends. If you don’t have anything of substance to say, I’m just going to go.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel blurts out before Mark can swing the door open.

Mark’s muscles lock up. He turns around slowly. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel repeats, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. Mark knows he does that when he’s nervous. “I’m sorry for always begging you to have sex with me, I’m sorry for that whole night, and I’m sorry for talking about you for so long afterward. I sincerely apologize.”

“I’ll be the judge of the sincerity,” Mark says, even though he can tell Daniel means it. If this was just a publicity stunt, Daniel could have made a big show out of apologizing downstairs in the lobby. Instead, he chose a straightforward approach in somewhere that holds significance to them. Mark is certain it’s genuine.

“I forgive you,” he says, and Daniel looks like a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. He breaks into a huge smile.

“Seongwoo was a virgin too,” Daniel tells him, “Ha. I sure do know how to pick them.”

Mark gives him that blank stare again. “I’m really not interested in your sex life with your boyfriend.”

Daniel’s smile disappears. “Right. Sorry.”

“Just...don't think about me, or talk about me, or try to talk to me again,” Mark says next, “I’m not interested in being friends with you.”

“Why?” Daniel asks, “You’ve forgiven me right?”

“Don’t question it,” Mark deadpans. “And in case you happen to do any of the aforementioned things, you’re not the only one with lots of information and a large following on Twitter.”

Mark would never do something like that; he’s not that juvenile or vengeful, and he also doesn’t really care about Daniel anymore. It was meant to be a joke, but Daniel tilts his head to the side in confusion.

Daniel cracks a bewildered half smile. That very same grin used to make Mark’s heart race and his thoughts scattered. Now, Mark feels absolutely nothing.

“Is that a threat, Mark Lee? Are you threatening me?” the athlete asks.

“No, it’s a warning,” Mark clarifies, “Now let’s go downstairs and support the people close to us.”

Daniel follows Mark down the old staircase and back to the lobby. Emphasis on old, because one of the stairs shifts under Mark’s feet and has him slipping down the stairs. Daniel reaches for Mark’s waist to steady him, but snatches his hands away like he’s been burnt once Mark has righted himself. It makes Mark want to laugh, how cautious Daniel is suddenly being. He guessed he took the warning seriously.

They walk together to the theater, and part ways to their respective parties. Quietly, peacefully, like they should have done in the first place.






The next afternoon when Jaemin comes back from the store, Mark is sitting in the kitchen drinking some coffee. Jaemin, laughter barely contained, throws a tabloid on the counter.

Mark picks it up carefully. It’s a picture of himself and Daniel from last night, emerging from the staircase after their talk. It’s a harmless picture, but the caption, in bold, bright red letters, is meant to kill.

BREAKING: Mark Lee and Kang Daniel getting back together?

Mark slams his head down on the kitchen bar.