Work Header


Work Text:


Chaemin put in her two weeks’ notice a week ago and maybe that’s why Woojin’s alarm goes off on a national holiday, a precious and rare free Saturday for sleeping in. Woojin sits up on his elbows, film still over his eyes, and pulls himself to his feet. He can hear his landlord’s daughter practicing piano downstairs, singing her scales as she plays them. The light through the slats of the blinds is halfway across the laminate wood floor and warms his bare feet. He paws his way to the closet, finding his collared shirts by touch alone, and he’s just pulled one off the hanger and started undoing the buttons when there’s stirring from the other side of the bed.

“Hyung?” a soft voice calls, confused. “It’s a national holiday.”

Woojin takes a moment, beats the sluggish paste he calls a brain to death until it spits out May 22, 2018. Buddha’s birthday. All government entities closed in observation of the national holiday. The email he had received last week, and again yesterday, just in case some anxious idiot decided to drag their ass out of bed and come to work despite the paper lanterns that had been lining the streets all week. And as soon as it had come, the work-dread washes out of his body like liquid over a watercolor canvas and he falls with it, back into the soft, cozy confines of his bed. Their bed.

Their bed. The covers are pulled up to Hyunjin’s chin, but his ear still pokes out and his eyes are slit open just enough that Woojin knows he’s being watched. Woojin’s eyes fall to Hyunjin’s delicate wrist and long fingers, curled into a cat paw and resting in front of his mouth.

“Hm,” Hyunjin sighs. “Your alarm scared me awake.” Too sleepy to be a full whine.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Woojin says. He tucks Hyunjin’s hair behind his one visible ear and Hyunjin's eyes close.

Woojin sighs and flops back. “Chaemin-ah quit,” he explains.

“Mhmm,” Hyunjin says. “Finals are soon.”

“I know, I know,” Woojin says. “I’m not mad at her, just with the few Blurays that have been swiped, I was hoping to have another eye around the place.”

Hyunjin snorts. “Who steals from a public library?”

“Really, really shitty anarchists,” Woojin says. “Or middle school students. Not that there’s much of a difference.”


Hyunjin’s still sleepy. Woojin slides his eyes from the water stain on the ceiling to Hyunjin. The light through the window paints bars of light and shadow across his dark hair and powder-light cheeks, the seafoam sheets. If Hyunjin would lower the covers a little, the light would dance across the dips and arches of his collarbone and the tendons in his neck. Woojin might kiss the curve of his shoulder just to hear Hyunjin hum warmly and maybe open one eye to peek at him and murmur what’re you up to, huh?

But as it stands, Woojin is content to watch him breathing evenly, his exhales making the tag on his pillow flutter. Hyunjin is the kind of beautiful that demands to be observed—not just stared at or admired. He’s the kind of beautiful you really had to take time to trace the lines and shapes of, every single detail, or you couldn’t fully appreciate him. Sure, Woojin dropped a fucking world atlas on his foot the first time he saw Hyunjin because he needed to do a double take and the book corner missed the shelf, but that’s because most of the hot library rats stuck to the university campus. It was also the second time he ever raised his voice in the library; once to tell off a bully who was making her classmate cry, when she wore down his customer-service-voice to his bitch-I-will-cut-you-voice, and once more to scream “FUCK!” at the top of his lungs as the spine of the four-kilo book nailed his pinky toe.

What a way to meet his now-boyfriend. At least Hyunjin had driven him to the hospital since Woojin had, you know, broken his toe over the prettiest boy on earth and couldn’t drive his sorry ass to the emergency room. And who has money for a taxi these days?

( “Uh, sorry,” Woojin said. “You didn’t have to offer to drive me.”

“No, it’s okay,” Critical Beauty said. “I, um, feel guilty.”

“What?” Woojin asked. “What for?”

“You were, uh. You were staring at me. You know when, when you.” Critical Beauty mimed dropping a book on the floor, one hand still on the wheel, and Woojin wished he’d somehow managed to drop a piano on his head instead. At least smears on concrete didn’t feel raw, 100% organic shame crawling up their neck when they got caught ogling a pretty boy.

“Um,” Woojin squeaked.

A long pause.

“Woojin,” Woojin said finally. “Kim Woojin.” Feel free to file for a restraining order. I am so sorry.

But Critical Beauty laughed instead. “Hwang Hyunjin,” he said. “Maybe next time I’m at the library you can help me find reference materials on kisaeng instead of breaking your foot.”

“Next time?” )

“You’re staring,” Hyunjin mumbles, eyes still closed.

“You can’t know that.”

“Really,” Hyunjin deadpans, cracking open an eye. “Me. Not being able to tell if someone’s staring at me. Sure thing, hyung.”

“Slow down, jeonha,” Woojin says. “I don’t always want to be staring at you.”


Woojin smiles. “Did you know I called you ‘Critical Beauty’ in my head before I knew your name?”

Hyunjin yawns. “The Pentagon song?”


“Cool. E’Dawn’s rap is really sexy in that one.”

“Thought your bias was Hui?”

“No, that’s Kino. I just want to blow Hui.” He pauses, opens both eyes. “Actually I’d blow any of them. But especially Hui.”

“I guess he’s okay.”

“Shut up, you only want Taemin to fuck you.”

“Oh? And you don’t?”

Hyunjin purses his lips and closes his eyes. “No,” he huffs. “I want to perform a blood sacrifice with him and absorb all his talent into my body. Maybe make out a little.”

“Before or after you sacrifice him to the elder gods?”

Hyunjin punches him in the shoulder. “Shut up.”

Woojin grins and closes his eyes. They fall silent, letting the sun warm the covers as the morning creeps to afternoon. Their AC clicked off a couple hours ago and in half an hour or so it’s going to be stifling, but for now, Woojin is right between warm and comfortable and he’s going to squeeze in at least another half hour before Hyunjin is whisper-chanting fried rice, fried rice in his ear and Woojin has to get up and make it. Not that Hyunjin couldn’t make it himself—Woojin had only let him move in because he could cook.

( Hyunjin pouted, eyebrows pulling together and lower lip stuck out in a way that just looked attractive instead of irritated. The sleeves of his blousy shirt slipped over his hands as he crossed his arms and cocked a hip out.

“Kidding!” Woojin said. “Kidding.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow.

“I also keep you for the free head.”

Hyunjin scowled and grabbed Woojin by the belt loops of his jeans, dragging him flush against Hyunjin’s chest. Hyunjin pressed their foreheads together and crowded Woojin around the tiled counter, the cool ceramic seeping through his clothes. Woojin’s heart jumped to his throat and his dick to his chest. Hyunjin trapped Woojin’s legs between his thighs and Woojin was quickly, quickly reminded that Hyunjin was bigger, taller, and stronger than him even if he looked like the pretty boy protagonist of a manhwa.

“Free head?” Hyunjin asked. “I’ll show you free head.”

When Hyunjin kissed Woojin, his tongue tasted like cherry tomatoes and the wasabi paste he had put on their sandwiches. And Woojin liked Hyunjin’s cooking, hell, he couldn’t eat a sandwich if it wasn’t on toasted multigrain anymore, but no food could compare to the feeling of Hyunjin’s cold tongue sucked between Woojin’s teeth.

Manhwa protagonists didn’t usually kiss men the way Hyunjin kissed men. And they certainly didn’t bend men over counters and sink their teeth into their partner’s earlobes the way Hyunjin did. )

Woojin thinks he’s getting there, the starbursts on the insides of his eyelids fading to blissful darkness, when he feels a hand sliding across the top of his thigh and then across the bump of his cock in his loose boxers. It might’ve been an accident, except the slide of fingers turns into a steady pawing at along his length and the scratch of a single nail from base to head that makes his cock twitch despite Woojin’s concentrated effort to try to fall back asleep.

“Hyunjin-ah,” Woojin warns.

Hyunjin doesn’t reply and continues to stroke Woojin through his boxers, just enough nails over fabric to keep Woojin from falling back asleep.

“I thought you were tired,” Woojin says.

“I’m never too tired to suck you off.”

Fuck. Woojin’s cock gives a significant twitch and he mentally scowls at it. Bastard. Thought we were on the same team.

“We have all day,” Woojin says. “Now?”

“So you don’t want your dick in my mouth?”

“I never said that,” Woojin mutters. “I am trying to be a good boyfriend and let you sleep in.”

“Why don’t you be a good boyfriend and kick off the covers?”

“Fuck,” Woojin sighs. Hyunjin moves his hand and Woojin gives the sheets and the comforter a couple good hard kicks to get them off his body. The cool air is welcome on his legs, about ready to start sweating. He thinks about kicking off his socks too, but his leg hair prickles and he decides not to let his nipples get hard from the temperature change as well.

Hyunjin slides closer, tucking his chin over the curve of Woojin’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to it in an eerily similar way to how Woojin had imagined doing so earlier. He doesn’t know who picked it up from whom—was it Woojin or Hyunjin who first started pressing chaste kisses to the other’s head and shoulders? Who stopped sleeping with a shirt on first? Who had gotten them started on tea instead of coffee? Who taught who how best to swallow the other down?

Woojin is pretty sure the tea thing was Hyunjin’s idea, but everything else is up in the air.

Hyunjin doesn’t move from where he’s cuddled close to Woojin, one leg hooked over Woojin’s thigh. He continues to feel Woojin up through his boxers, soothing enough that Woojin could honestly fall asleep to Hyunjin’s steady, slow ministrations, if Hyunjin would quit periodically pressing his thumb into the head of Woojin’s cock and making him hiss.

Woojin’s only half hard, really. Hyunjin isn’t putting effort into the handjob like he might if they were stuffed between the self-help and how-to shelves and Hyunjin had three minutes to get Woojin to come before he has to be on the subway and back to university. He’s focused on tracing the shape of Woojin’s cock, gently pinched between his fingers to measure the width as he strokes up and down. He thumbs the hood of Woojin’s cock and hums, almost a purr.

Woojin knows he doesn’t have a lot to show in the length department. It’s not something that particularly bothered him in university, because he had only one dedicated girlfriend on either side of the occasional-hook-up period, and he was her first time. He thinks women like his cock more than men, because he’s not long but he’s thick, and the tiny girls he slept with weren’t used to being filled. At least that’s what they told him in between tapping a cigarette against his roommate’s ashtray or sips of the piss-tier beer he kept in the fridge. You’re like…you know? The guys in my entrepreneurship class talk big but it’s only to cover up their disappointing dicks. You like guys, right, Woojin-ssi? You ever fucked a skinny penis?

The answer is yes, but Woojin doesn’t usually worry over the size of his partners’ dicks. They’re not going anywhere near his asshole. Usually.

Because Hyunjin is beautiful from his head to his toes, and everywhere in between.

( “If you want to see other people too, it’s okay,” Woojin blurted out.

Hyunjin’s eyes were the widest Woojin had ever seen. “What? Hyung—what?”

Woojin dragged a hand through his hair. “Like, not romantically, but sexually—like if you’re not satisfied—I get it, alright—”

Hyung!” Hyunjin said. “What?”

Woojin gestured helplessly at his the zipper of his jeans. “I know I’m not—and you are—”

“Stop,” Hyunjin said, taking his face in his hands. “Hyung. No. Stop.”

Hyunjin was the first man Woojin ever bottomed for, and that meant something. It still does. )

Hyunjin sighs, breath tickling Woojin’s ear. “I love your cock,” he says, not even in a sexy voice, just like it’s a fact Woojin should be aware of. “Short and thick. Remember when I struggled to take it?”

Does Woojin remember the first time they had—tried to have—penetrative sex? Of course he does, because he thought Hyunjin was going to leave him, if he didn’t die of mortification first. Hyunjin hadn’t even managed to seat himself fully on Woojin’s cock; he was biting his lip and struggling to rock himself onto the head, and when he finally started to press down, his mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back just a little bit and Woojin came from that sight alone. And could not get it up for the rest of the night because he had never planned on telling Hyunjin how much it turned him on that Hyunjin couldn’t do it, until his cock did the talking for him.

“Yeah,” Woojin croaks. “Yeah, shit, of course I do.”

“Never had any trouble blowing you though.”

“No,” Woojin says, swallowing. “Guess not.”

Hyunjin smiles into his skin. “What’re you thinking about, huh?”

How I’ve woken up multiple times to you under the covers mouthing at my dick like you can’t get enough of it. “How you said you were going to suck me off,” Woojin says instead, “but all you’re doing is trying to kill me slowly. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Sure,” Hyunjin says. “But I’m not going to stop. If you come in your sleep and miss me swallowing, that’s your loss.”

Fucking hell. Woojin finally cracks an eye open to peek at Hyunjin, who isn’t looking at him, but at his a-little-past-half-hard cock, finally taking shape against his boxers. Hyunjin’s lips are parted just a little and Woojin’s cock twitches hard again, because his shitty little whore brain reminded him of how Hyunjin’s pink mouth looks wrapped around the redness of his length after Hyunjin has teased him to the point of leaking. And then how Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over and the pink spreads to his cheeks when Woojin fists his hands in his hair and pushes him deeper.

Of course the twitch doesn’t go unnoticed by Hyunjin. He peers up at Woojin through his eyelashes. “Yes?”

Smug, sexy little shit. “I like your mouth as much as you like my cock,” Woojin admits.

“I know,” Hyunjin says.

“Humility is a virtue.”

“Is biting my lips until they’re even redder and puffier a virtue too, hyung? Because you seem to practice that quite a bit.”

“Will you fucking,” Woojin hisses, “suck my goddamn, motherfucking cock?”

The corner of Hyunjin’s mouth curls up in a half-smile, full-fucking-smirk and he kisses Woojin chastely. “Sure, hyung. How awfully nice of you to ask.”

Hyunjin stops touching him and rolls onto his back, kicking his own covers off to reveal his much tighter boxers that did absolutely nothing to hide the length of his own (gorgeous, magnificent, show-stopping—Woojin could go on) cock or his cute round ass. Woojin had his suspicions that his own loose boxers were disappearing one by one due to Hyunjin’s meddling. He wasn’t exactly quiet about his desire for Woojin to switch to tight-fitting underwear, but Woojin isn’t sure his poor balls would survive being squeezed all night, especially given how Hyunjin liked to blueball him when they were awake.

Hyunjin flips onto his stomach and wiggles down Woojin’s body with too much enthusiasm for someone who had only been awake for fifteen minutes, tops. Their bed is big enough that Hyunjin can curl up between Woojin’s legs if Woojin scoots up a little (which he does) and Hyunjin folds his legs to the side. It’s not the most comfortable position to be in, but it sure beats trying to figure out how to suck dick in Hyunjin’s suite without unintentionally 69-ing or using the shower, which, given how much sex had probably been had in that tiny cubicle over the years, Woojin had no desire to kneel down in.

Hyunjin is taller than Woojin, but he’s come up with several creative ways to get around the issue of his height, including pressing his erection into Woojin’s arm as he flips around to suck Woojin off, folding himself in a ball, draping himself half-on and half-off the bed, and cutting off all circulation in Woojin’s legs as he lies across them.

Or like he is now, pulling Woojin’s thighs apart with practiced fingers to slot his shoulders between them. And now, the playful, feisty Hyunjin melts away. Because Hyunjin likes to tease and he likes to press Woojin’s buttons and see him blush, but Hyunjin likes his cock so, so much more than that. Woojin thought he was being nice, after Woojin’s little breakdown, but you can’t fake that dedication. You can’t fake annoying your boyfriend out of a nap with half a blowjob and whining when he makes you stop. You can’t fake the way Hyunjin looks at him now.

Hyunjin props himself up on his elbows and tilts his head to eye the curve of Woojin’s cock. He runs a finger along the line of it again, lips falling open once more. He looks at Woojin like he’s forgotten the rest of Woojin even exists, and it’s that focused, dark look that makes Woojin believe him when Hyunjin says I love your cock, hyung. I love how fat it is when it fills my mouth.

Hey, my eyes are up here, Woojin has thought about saying, jokingly, but his throat dries up every time he tries. Shouldn’t Hyunjin be tired of doing this? Of looking at him like that? Woojin thinks the honeymoon shine has worn off their relationship—he doesn’t get distracted by Hyunjin walking around the house in nothing but one of Woojin’s T-shirts anymore, but he does find himself spacing out and staring at the creamy color of his thighs, so maybe he gets it.

Hyunjin holds Woojin’s cock in place so he can stick his tongue out and drag the tip along Woojin’s length. He’s uneven and lazy about it, but that’s almost hotter to Woojin, that he doesn’t give a shit about pleasing Woojin and making it clean. He drags his tongue over Woojin’s clothed cock because he wants to feel the slight bumpiness of his veins and his fingers weren’t getting the job done. He mouths a little at the base, bottom lip brushing against Woojin’s balls and almost (almost!) against skin. Woojin can feel wetness at the tip and well, there goes his plan to sleep in. He’s not doing it in soiled boxers and with Hyunjin around, it’s not safe to have his cock out and about.

Hyunjin notes the damp patch in Woojin’s boxers with hooded eyes. He almost hesitates, but drops his head to nose at the head of Woojin’s cock, and then presses his tongue flat against the wet patch and lathes his tongue against it over and over again, for all intents and purposes tonguing Woojin’s slit through his underwear. Woojin clamps down his desire to groan because their landlord’s daughter is still practicing and their window is open and sound carries. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip and holds on for dear life because when Hyunjin goes, he doesn’t stop.

Of course, squeezing at Woojin’s length while he tongues him through boxers isn’t the kind of satisfying Hyunjin is looking for, so he tugs down Woojin’s boxers and lets the cooler air hit Woojin’s now fully erect cock. A proud, somewhat pitiful four-and-a-half inches (Woojin had measured more accurately than that, but wasn’t about to admit that to anyone but Hyunjin and Minho, who was even smaller.)

Hyunjin guides Woojin’s cock past his lips and takes his whole length warm in his mouth. He bobs his head slow, up and down, until the tension leaves Woojin’s muscles and the hair standing up on his arms falls flat again. The first minute or so is always the most intense (aside from coming) and Hyunjin isn’t here to get Woojin to climax. He’s here to taste, to play, to please.

Once Woojin is relaxed he stops moving, wiggling his body lower against the bed and leaning his head against Woojin’s inner thigh. He lazily tongues Woojin’s length, rolling Woojin’s cock around in his mouth. He curls and flicks his tongue around it, tracing the shape of Woojin with his fingers, his tongue over clothes, and now his tongue over skin. Memorizing it.

He pushes Woojin into the silky pocket of his cheek and sucks a little harder and Woojin sighs, eyes falling closed. “That feels so good, baby,” he says. “Just like that.”

Hyunjin hums and doesn’t move from that position, alternating running the flat of his tongue up and down Woojin’s length and sucking on him. He drapes his arms over Woojin’s thighs, body heat keeping Woojin from catching a chill. The sun paints a warm square over his shoulder and stretches fingers across his bare chest. Woojin is warm, relaxed, and there’s the soft trickle of endorphins up and down his spine. Oxytocin. Adrenaline. Whatever, Woojin’s a librarian and his sexy boyfriend who blows him instead of napping is an Asian Studies major, they don’t need to know the name of brain chemicals to know they’re in love.

“I love you,” Woojin mumbles.

Woojin feels rather than hears Hyunjin’s laugh against his thatch of hair and Hyunjin slides off his cock. Woojin cracks one eye open.

“Aren’t you supposed to say some sexy, dirty shit?” Hyunjin asks, lips wet and sticky.


“‘Suck me harder, whore,’” Hyunjin says, lowering his voice in a mocking imitation of Woojin’s voice.

“Wow,” Woojin says. “I think I actually felt my dick go a little flaccid.”

“‘I love you’ isn’t sexy,” Hyunjin huffs, sticking out his tongue. His fingers still sliding up and down Woojin’s cock say he doesn’t mind though.

“But I love you,” Woojin protests. “Do I need a permit to tell you that?”

Hyunjin’s cheeks are a little pink. “Guess not.”

“We did that language of love quiz, remember?” Woojin asks. “You got ‘positive affirmations.’ Like, a fucking Buzzfeed quiz told you that you have praise kink.”

“I do not have—”

“Shh,” Woojin says, reaching out to stroke Hyunjin’s hair. He pets the soft strands, curling a piece behind Hyunjin’s ear again and giving it a playful yank. He cups Hyunjin’s cheek and Hyunjin turns his face into Woojin’s hand, pressing a wet kiss to his palm and brushing his nose against Woojin’s thumb. Woojin brushes his thumb down Hyunjin’s mouth and settles it there, Hyunjin’s soft breaths ghosting over the back of his hand. Woojin drags his thumb across Hyunjin’s slick bottom lip, pillowy soft and a lewd pink. Hyunjin’s lips after sucking cock feel as silky as the inside of his cheeks, even smoother than the 120,000 won lip gloss that Hyunjin applied looking in the side-mirror of Woojin’s car.

Woojin thumbs the corner of Hyunjin’s mouth, the gentle, almost catlike curl of the edge of his lips, and then back across his bottom lip and the soft but not quite hairless skin beneath his mouth, spreading the slick of saliva and precome over more than just the wet inside of Hyunjin’s mouth. He knows how Hyunjin looks with a white sheen of cum over his lips and spilling down his chin, and how Hyunjin looks with flecks of white caught in his eyelashes, but he thinks this is his favorite. Not too messy, but just enough mess that Hyunjin’s eyes are starting to go unfocused. It’s flattering and so, so cute that this is all it takes—a little manhandling and a little mess—before Hyunjin is turned on.

But Woojin is turned on too. He tugs a little on Hyunjin’s bottom lip, pulling his barely parted lips open just a little, and then, with a gentle push, guides Hyunjin’s face back to his cock.

Hyunjin’s eyes jump to Woojin’s and then down to his cock. He lets Woojin take careful hold of his face and then, curling a finger around the shell of his ear, pulling Hyunjin’s mouth down him. His head slips past the cushion of Hyunjin’s lips and Woojin sighs as he easily slides to the base of his cock.

“God,” Woojin says. “That’s the good shit. It really is.”

Hyunjin blinks slowly and looks up once more at Woojin. This time Woojin looks back at him, at his perfect mouth wrapped around Woojin’s width, how Hyunjin’s lips have to stretch tighter than he would sucking on a boba straw, or a popsicle, or even another man’s cock. Dark pink lips go light from the stretch, and against the healthy red of Woojin’s cock, swollen from the play, Woojin thinks he might be the prettiest thing in Seoul, in South Korea, dare he say the entirety of East Asia. Prettier than the first bloom of cherry blossoms, prettier than girls in hanbok during festival season, prettier than Gyeongbokgung Palace, prettier even than the kisaeng that Hyunjin spent long nights of thesis work on.

It’s okay if no one else knows, though. This kind of beautiful thing is a treasured heirloom. Hyunjin’s beauty belonged in a museum, but Woojin is too selfish to share it.

“Yeah,” Woojin says. “Just like that. You look so pretty just like that.”

Hyunjin’s cheeks get ruddier and Woojin can feel the saliva pooling in Hyunjin’s mouth around his cock so he curls his fingers in the hair at the back of Hyunjin’s head and pulls him up and down, slowly fucking his face on Woojin’s cock. Hyunjin is glassy-eyed and pliant in Woojin’s hold, the only pressure on Woojin his lips around Woojin’s width and his tongue trailing along the bottom of Woojin’s cock. Hyunjin’s eyelashes flutter and now he’s the one who looks like he could fall asleep.

Woojin thinks about that, about Hyunjin nodding off with Woojin’s cock cheeked and spit running down the corner of his mouth. He thinks about fucking Hyunjin’s mouth while Hyunjin naps and how comfortable with Woojin Hyunjin would have to be to let that happen. He thinks of Hyunjin waking up to a cock in his mouth and flushing, his own cock hardening in his tight boxers.

Dammit. Woojin feels a definite twitch at the image and he falters. Hyunjin’s eyes come back in to focus and he shakes free of Woojin’s grip to pull off and smile lazily.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“None of your business,” Woojin says.

“Hmm,” Hyunjin says. “I think it is, though. You were thinking something dirty about me.”


“Fucking my face?”

Yes, but not in the way Hyunjin was thinking of.

“Tell me,” Hyunjin says. He doesn’t take Woojin in his mouth again, but laps at him and runs his tongue over the veins on the bottom and it’s just enough to make Woojin frustrated, to start talking.

“I was thinking about how much you love doing this,” Woojin says. “So much that you could fall asleep with me still rocking into your mouth.”

“Mmm, I could.”

“It makes you hard.”

“It might.”

Woojin drags a hand down his face. “That’s so—I don’t know. Hot? Flattering? Amazing?”

“Me liking cock is amazing.” Hyunjin laughs. “Wait until you hear about Tinder.”

“No,” Woojin says, and his grip tightens enough in Hyunjin’s hair to make him gasp and look up. “No, not like that.”

“It’s because it’s you,” Woojin says. “Because you trust me and love me, and you like slow morning blowjobs and walking around my apartment in my clothes and fingering yourself in the shower because you’re nervous about messing up sex, like you could ever, ever mess up anything.”

Hyunjin swallows.

“I don’t like head because head feels nice,” Woojin says. “I like it because it’s you.”

“Hyung…” Hyunjin whispers.

“Your lazy enthusiasm, your honest compliments, your unabashed attraction to me.”

Hyunjin presses the back of his hand to his cheek. “Stop, don’t say that, I’m so—”

“I’m in love with you, Hwang Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin whines and rocks his hips into the mattress with his brows pulled together. “Sh-shit, hyung, you can’t just say that shit, okay? I’m really—” Hyunjin bites his lip and rolls his body helplessly once, twice, against the bed, a whine rumbling in his throat.

“C’mere,” Woojin says.

“B-but,” Hyunjin protests, throwing an agonized glance at Woojin’s cock. “I didn’t finish…”

“I’ll get us off.”

Hyunjin bites his lip harder, pink going white. “But I wanna be good for you…”

“Oh, baby,” Woojin sighs. “You are so, so good for me. You make me feel so good, every time. You’ve gotten me so hard and wet, don’t you want me to make you feel good too?”

Hyunjin nods shyly.

“C’mere,” Woojin repeats.

Hyunjin wiggles back up Woojin’s body and pressing himself into Woojin’s side. Hyunjin’s erection presses insistently against Woojin’s hip and Woojin smiles down at Hyunjin, who pouts.

“What?” he says.

“That hard, huh?” Woojin murmurs. “Just from pleasing me?”

Hyunjin’s Adam’s apple bobs. “It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” Woojin says. “It’s hot. You’re a good boy, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin whines into his neck.

“My baby boy,” Woojin whispers.

Hyung,” Hyunjin pleads. “I need it.”

Hyunjin slips his boxers to his ankles and Woojin turns on his side, spitting into his hand and wrapping it around both of them. Usually Hyunjin likes it slow, but he’s flustered and Woojin is closer than he’s letting on. Hyunjin’s fingers dig into Woojin’s skin and his breath is labored against the crook of Woojin’s neck and shoulder. Woojin sets a steady pace and gets faster as Hyunjin gets them wetter and wetter.

Hyunjin’s clench around Woojin’s arm becomes a death grip and he whimpers a few times when Woojin sucks in a breath as he comes, spilling all over his hand and Hyunjin’s cock and their sheets. He slows down, oversensitive, and Hyunjin begs against his skin please, please, hyung please. So Woojin takes his fistful of cum and squeezes Hyunjin tighter, fucking him into Woojin’s fist, and Hyunjin’s back goes tight as piano strings and then he falls apart in ragged gasps as he comes.

Woojin jerks him through the end of it, until the quaking of Hyunjin’s body becomes unsteady shudders and then, deciding fuck it, Woojin wipes his hand on the sheets between them. Gay mess lifestyle—high water bills, faded sheets, and a constant shortage of detergent. Hyunjin doesn’t care though, rolling right into the nasty puddle to cuddle Woojin, boxers still hooked around his ankles. He grabs Woojin’s hand and moves it towards his head.

“Oi,” Woojin says. “It’s messy.”

“Pet,” Hyunjin insists, so Woojin rolls his eyes and plays with Hyunjin’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Hyunjin’s breathing evens out and Woojin hums softly.

“We have to shower, Jinnie.”

“No,” Hyunjin mumbles.

“You’ll get crusty,” Woojin warns.

“’M twenty-two,” Hyunjin mumbles. “’M always crusty.”

Woojin rolls his eyes again but concedes to the hand holding his hip possessively.

“Alright,” he says. “We can shower after a nap. I’ll even draw you a bath. I’ll wash your hair and we can use that lavender bath bomb Minho pawned off on us and I’ll towel you dry and then we can curl up and watch reruns of Doraemon. Just a quick nap.”

Woojin smiles against the top of Hyunjin’s head. “Just a quick nap, and then the rest of the day, with you.”