Daesung doesn’t miss the way Seunghyun’s eyes drop. It’s nothing new; he’s used to the feel of his hyung’s stare catching and holding there.
“You—" Seunghyun stops. Stares some more.
“You like?” Daesung puffs his chest out dramatically and sways from side to side, showing off his goods.
A funny sound finds its way up and out of Seunghyun—a rush of air out his nose, a kind of choked laugh, his lips quirking up unevenly on one side.
Daesung mirrors his lopsided grin with one of his own. He knows how he must look, standing at Seunghyun’s door holding up a hefty pair of—what else?—his favorite fruit. Two fully ripe, impeccably round melons, so fragrant and sweet through their virgin rinds that his stomach clenches at the thought of sinking teeth into them, the fire of hunger burning in him. As far as melons go, they’re a little on the small side, but he’s not self-conscious about it—they’re a perfect handful, just the right size to fill his palms.
As soon as Seunghyun lets him inside and lends him a knife, they’ll fill his belly too.
“You got a boob job?” Seunghyun says at last. True to form, he reaches out to squeeze one. “For me?”
“All for you,” Daesung purrs, dipping his chin and peering up at him through his lashes. “Just kidding. One for me, one for you.”
Seunghyun snorts in amusement again... and in recognition. This isn’t the first time those words have passed between them.
Daesung rolls the melons in his palms enticingly, inviting his hyung to feel them up some more—and when that doesn’t work, pumps his chest in that way that makes his fans lose their minds. Seunghyun likes it too; after all, there’s that game they play onstage where he pretends, for as long as Daesung will let him, that he wields some peculiar power over him—a rope tethered to his physical heart, tugging Daesung bodily to him without ever the two of them ever truly touching.
In the beginning Daesung was only playing along. As Seunghyun’s self-proclaimed babysitter, the whole world knows by now that Big Bang’s baby hyung is his responsibility. To amuse and delight him is a sworn duty of sorts, his gift to the group, a favor among friends… and his burden to bear. Literally. Seunghyun has never been shy about climbing up his back, wanting a ride. But somewhere along the way, after making countless stages their playground, Daesung had a revelation—that what started as just some innocent fun now gives him such a thrill.
That power and pull they imagined Seunghyun had over him? It’s real. Better yet, it’s reciprocal.
So he can’t resist hamming it up—eyes and nose scrunched, mouth thrown wide open in a sort of silent, smiling shout. Jiggling his melons, two seconds away from losing it himself.
Stupid. Silly. But… stupid and silly is a surefire way to see Seunghyun smile, and that much, at least, Daesung is serious about.
Seunghyun bites his lip, eyes lighting up with mirth. That’s it. He’s got him. He waits for it, can imagine it clearly, knows the sound of it well, the laughter that’s coming—
“Wait—hey!” he cries when Seunghyun steps back and… swings the door shut in his face.
Daesung sighs, head thunking against the door, his melons drooping along with his spirits. “Hyuuung,” he whines softly into the wood, knowing he’ll be heard. No doubt Seunghyun is on the other side of it, listening in.
Seconds tick by in silence.
“Fine, lock me out, but at least let me give you one of these.”
“Don’t make me eat them both all by myself,” he threatens as a last resort. Not that it would be such a hardship, but he really shouldn’t... and he doesn’t want to, anyway. He came here to share . Not be shut out.
He bites back a sigh and straightens up, shifting his weight to turn and—what, go home?
“You’re missing out. If you don’t want to share in this delicacy, then maybe Seungri—"
Daesung isn’t the slightest bit surprised at the hands that hooks over his shoulder and drags him backward through the now open doorway. Unless there’s art involved, gentle has never been his way of doing things.
He stumbles inside, off-balance, and it’s up to Seunghyun to save him and his melons from meeting the floor in a bad way.
“Going somewhere?” he says, wrapping Daesung up in a tight hug.
“You locked me out,” Daesung accuses.
“I was just messing with you.” Seunghyun slips away, and with a firm, guiding grip on both arms, turns him around and ushers him in. “Come on in, weirdo.”
“Takes one to know one,” Daesung fires back, but there’s no heat in it, only humor. He lets himself be steered through the front room toward Seunghyun’s spacious kitchen. He knows the way, of course, but if Seunghyun wants to give him the tour, he doesn’t mind. Hyung’s house, hyung’s rules.
Probably just wants to make sure he doesn’t bump into any of his precious paintings along the way.
Shifting the melons to one arm, Daesung shrugs a hand free and reaches for his phone in the pocket of his pants. “I told you I was coming.” The screen lights up. “Oh... you didn't see it, my message.”
“You know I keep my phone off on my days off.”
“...right.” He knew that. He just got a little excited is all.
“I’m glad you’re here, actually,” Seunghyun says once they’re in the kitchen, releasing him to hurry over to—what else? Wine. An elegant, ink-black bottle atop a pale marble slab. Unopened. Pristine. Alone... Neglected.
But not for long. Seunghyun reaches for a corkscrew, and that’s when Daesung makes his move.
“Catch,” he says, tossing him a melon—underhanded, and with plenty of warning. He came here to split these with him, not assault him with them.
Seunghyun catches it easily enough, but…
“You would really do that?” he says, wide-eyed with disbelief. “With the wine right here? The contents of this bottle are older than you and me both.”
“I knew you would catch it.” Daesung flashes him a playful grin, emboldened by the way he looks at him. “Just like you caught me.”
The smile Seunghyun gives him then is a contradiction—one part shy, one part self-satisfied. His eyes drop to the melon cradled comfortably in one large hand. For Daesung it was a handful, but inside the cage of Seunghyun’s long, lovely fingers it presents as bashfully small. And the way he holds it as he looks it over is sophisticated in a way only a true connoisseur can pull off, the gracefulness of his grip turning an ordinary fruit into something distinguished.
Daesung spares the melon in his own hand a glance. It’s modest in size compared to his usual fare, it’s no cantaloupe or honedew, but even so, from above, his fingers can barely be seen cradling the base. He is not envious of his hyung’s fingers, of all things, it’s just...
“What kind this time?”
“Sugar Kiss.” Daesung puckers his lips for effect. “You’ve never had one, right?”
“Daesung,” Seunghyun says, setting his sugar kiss melon on the counter with care, “you know I’m a peach guy. The only melons I’ve ever sampled are those you’ve shoved down my throat.”
Daesung chokes on a laugh. “What? I’ve never shoved anything down your—”
Seunghyun’s eyesbrows lift suggestively, tongue poking at his cheek in a too-familiar way.
He sets his melon next to Seunghyun’s and snaps a quick pic of the pair, sending it to Seungri privately. Since their joint adventure on the melon farm in Japan—and their shared discovery at the hotel after—they’ve developed a kind of running joke involving Daesung’s favorite fruit. Swapping pics of melons as if they’re hot women, complete with dirty captions and all. It’s harmless fun, hurting no one and helping chip away at the years of unease between them.
Seungri’s reply today is short and sweet: nice melons
Daesung frowns at the lackluster response. That one’s been overdone and he expected better. He must be busy.
But then, this is Seungri. When isn’t he?
“Who are you texting?”
Daesung doesn’t say, but he knows his guilty smile must give him away.
The look Seunghyun gives him is probing. “You two’ve been spending an awful lot of time together lately.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Daesung mumbles, fingers hovering over his phone’s onscreen keyboard in uncertainty. Should he say something? Or just leave him be?
“He’s a bad influence, you know.”
“You think so?” He has no idea. “We, uh... bonded in Japan, that’s all. Turns out, we have more in common than we thought.”
“Is that so,” Seunghyun hums, sounding distracted.
Resting his phone on the countertop, the screen gone dark, Daesung purses his lips and keeps his secrets. Seunghyun will know just how bad he’s become soon enough.
That’s when he hears its: the telltale pop of a cork leaving its bottle.
“Hyung, it’s still early,” he complains in a mild tone, because of course Seunghyun’s already gone and forgotten the melons altogether, setting his sights again on fruit in a different form—the kind that’s stains your lips scarlet and comes with a cork.
“It’s never too early for a good red,” Seunghyun tells him, presenting two glasses with a flourish.
“But...” Daesung reaches for the melons, nudging one in Seunghyun’s direction. “The melons...” He’s honored to be his favorite drinking buddy and all, but that malbec he just opened isn’t going to pair well with the sweet meat of the Sugar Kiss.
“Your turn.” A knife is laid before him—a chef’s knife, with a broad, heavy blade well suited for slicing.
“Oh, that’s too big. Do you have something smaller,” Daesung wonders, eyeing the knife block nearby. “Something... thinner.” He considers taking a paring knife but ultimately passes it up. Too short.
“That puny little thing?” Seunghyun questions when he settles on a utility blade. Tucking a melon under his arm and snagging a hand towel as an afterthought, Daesung curbs the urge to twirl the blade en route to the living room. He’s good with his hands, but that particular skill of his is reserved for safe objects like mics, not stabby ones like knives.
“Why?” Seunghyun follows him, a glass of wine in each hand. “Aren’t you just gonna slice it?”
Two minutes and half a glass of wine later, Seunghyun does.
“You’re shitting me.”
He’s in a recliner on Daesung’s right. Daesung has the whole couch to himself, but they’re close enough that their knees are brushing. He’s hollowed out a hole in the melon, using the knife to puncture the soft skin and carving an imperfect circle—small at first, but gradually widening with every pass. Seunghyun seems to have caught on, hanging off the edge of his seat as he watches Daesung prepare the melon for... well.
“No fucking way.”
“Whatever do you mean, hyung?” Daesung sings, using his work as an excuse to avoid meeting Seunghyun’s eyes. If he has to face him, his calm facade will surely crack.
“I always knew you were a freak,” Seunghyun says slyly when Daesung turns the melon over and shows him his work. It may not be pretty but hey, it’s a hole. It’ll get the job done.
Seunghyun reaches for his glass and sucks down the rest of what’s in it in one great, greedy gulp. “Daesung,” he says, voice scratchy and deep, eyes dark as the wine he’s just downed. “If you were this desperate, why didn’t you just come to me?”
Daesung nearly drops the knife. “I’m not!”
“No?” Senghyun laughs. Leans in. “One day on a melon farm, and this is what happens. Does Seungri know your little secret?”
“It was Seungri’s secret first,” Daesung blurts out.
Shit. That reveal could have gone better.
Seunghyun nearly chokes, on laughter or surprise Daesung isn’t sure.
“He showed me how.” He wipes the knife’s edge clean against the leg of his jeans, tossing it on the coffee table before him when he’s done. “It was his idea, I couldn’t believe it either but then he showed me and, well, you know how he is…”
Something flashes in Seunghyun’s eyes, something dangerous.
“Are you two fucking now?”
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean,” Seunghyun snorts, making a grab for the melon.
“Does it count as fucking if there’s a melon between us?” Daesung laughs, pulling away and taking his precious Sugar Kiss with him.
“When were you gonna tell me you’ve been hooking up with the maknae? Jiyong’s gonna flip his shit when he finds out.”
“Why, because we didn’t invite him?”
Seunghyun’s grin is positively lecherous. “Something like that.”
“He probably already knows. Or at least suspects something’s up.” Keeping secrets was never one of Seungri’s strong points.
“It’s not like we’ve never done it before, me and Seungri.”
“Oh, I know,” Seunghyun says, settling back in his chair and sending his empty glass a woeful look. “I just thought... I don’t know. Things are so different now than back then. Thought the two of you would never find your way back to each other.”
Daesung falls back against the couch cushion behind him in dramatic fashion, making a face.
“That sounds so...” Cheesy? Romantic? Flowery? “Ugh, it’s not like that. Not at all. This is just for fun.”
Seunghyun shakes his head in mock disbelief. “My dongsaengs, sexual deviants. What to do?”
“Join us?” Daesung peers down at the melon in thought, one finger absently tracing the rim of the hole he’s painstakingly carved. “I’m buying them to eat anyway. This is just me being...”
“A sex fiend,” Seunghyun finishes for him.
“I believe the term Seungri used was ‘resourceful’.”
“I think a part of me always knew,” Seunghyun continues, “that there was something off about you.”
“I come here to share something nice with you and all you do is make fun of me?” Daesung grumps.
Seunghyun ignores him. “Your obsession with melons was never something I would call normal.” His eyes leave Daesung’s and crawl down his neck and chest, coming to rest on the melon in his lap... though he seems to be looking past it. To what lies behind, Daesung realizes, desire blowing his dark eyes wide.
“But not even in my wildest dreams did I see you sticking your dick in one,” he finishes bluntly—crudely—and Daesung can’t help but laugh.
“You’ve been dreaming about me?”
“Is that so hard to believe? As many nights as I’ve had you in my bed?”
Daesung’s face heats, to his complete and utter dismay. He came here prepared to fuck a melon in front of this man, but what finally gets him heated is a little friendly flirting? Maybe Seunghyun is right: this new fixation has got him all kinds of fucked up.
“Hyung, you just don’t get it.” Feeling around the melon’s surface for the hole he made, he dips his thumb inside, collecting a little wetness. His pulse picks up at the smooth, slick glide, imagining—no, remembering the feel of it around himself, past pleasures. He pulls it closer, fights not to push back against the pressure, his heart rate not the only thing rising. “But you will. You’ll see.”
“You want me to watch?”
“I want you to do more than just watch.” Daesung discards the knife on the low glass table before him with a clatter, trading it for a spoon he’d snuck out of the kitchen on the way over. “You’re going to partake.”
“You can’t make me,” Seunghyun declares, lifting his chin in defiance.
“Don’t think I’ll have to. All you need is a taste,” Daesung says softly, turning his attention to the hole he’s hollowing out. The spoon comes back up loaded with meat from the melon’s core—the best part, tender and sweet. Pale tangerine in color and dotted with a few stray seeds, it glistens in the afternoon light streaming in through the room’s massive floor-to-ceiling windows.
This melon is a Sugar Kiss. Daesung could never forgive himself for wasting any of it. So he takes the first taste himself, slips the cool spoon between his parted lips, seeds and all, savoring the burst of sweet, sugary bliss before it melts away in the heat of his mouth, gone in seconds. It is the most succulent treat he’s allowed himself in recent memory, the best thing he’s put in his mouth in weeks, and the sigh that escapes him... well. Now is not the time to be shy about letting Seunghyun know just how much he likes it.
Why would he be, when he’s pulled the same sounds out of him countless times already?
Years of fooling around in secret have shown that they are just the right flavor of weird for each other. More than friends, they found each other in a time when Daesung needed a distraction from the world bearing down on him, needed to feel as vibrant and alive as the album he’d returned to the music scene to help create. Pressured to go but persuaded to stay, the condemnation of the public was tempered by the comfort of close friends. They all stood by him in the wake of his accident, but none more than Seunghyun. And in the years since, they’ve come back to each other for seconds, thirds, more times than Daesung cares to think about. Probably more times than he can count. They’re perfect complements, compatible both inside the bedroom and out.
The next spoonful he offers to Seunghyun.
“Mmmm, that’s… wow.” Seunghyun accepts the offering graciously. “That’s amazing.”
“Right? Hard to believe it’s not artificially sweetened. It’s like...” Daesung sneaks another sinfully sweet mouthful, well aware that he’s being watched. “Like a little bit of melon flavor drizzled over a spoonful of pure sugar. It’s almost too much.”
It hits him then—the last time he spoke those words, and who he spoke them to.
“It’s almost too much,” he managed, “but, god , don’t stop.”
His cheeks burn red hot at the memory.
“Here, let me.” Seunghyun abandons his seat to join him there on the couch, taking the spoon from him.
He scrapes it over the melon’s soft insides with a slushy sound, drawing out another dripping spoonful, and just when Daesung thinks he’s about to indulge in a second tasting he turns the spoon around and touches its tip to Daesung’s bottom lip.
Daesung opens up without a thought and Seunghyun sneaks it in, the underside of the spoon cool against his tongue, and again there’s the sensation of sweet, sweet, sweet. Daesung swallows it effortlessly, as easily as anything Seunghyun has ever given him. Say what you will about Seunghyun’s rough play, but when things between them get heavy, he always makes sure Daesung is good and ready.
Seunghyun scoops out another spoonful and offers it to him again. And again. The third time is a little hurried and the metal clips his teeth on the way out. And is that—is his hand shaking?
“Hyung,” Daesung whines softly. He would love to keep going, but... “I didn’t bring this here just for you to feed it to me.”
“I’m having a good time, aren’t you?” Seunghyun says, aiming for smooth but falling short, his breathing quick and eager, his words clipped. He jams the spoon in again and this time Daesung has to stop him.
“Hyung, the hole.” His hand around Seunghyun’s tightens in warning. “We don’t want to make it too big. You know?”
“Too big for who? You?” Seunghyun bops him on the nose with the backside of the spoon. “You’ll be fine.”
Daesung huffs out a laugh. “Okay, but I really wanna—” He rolls his hips, sending the melon up just as Seunghyun is bringing the spoon down again. The stabbing motion sends the Sugar Kiss back onto his cock, and when Daesung groans Seunghyun just grins and keeps digging.
Heat fans out low in his hips, sparks skittering up his spine and down his thighs and—fuck it, this is too much foreplay for him. Seunghyun loves to torment him but Daesung came here with a purpose, damnit.
“Okay, that’s—that’s enough,” he says, staggering to his feet and stealing away to the kitchen with the melon crushed between his hands, microwave in his sights. Struggling there and back again in pants that are now, thanks to Seunghyun’s teasing, painfully tight.
The timer beeps at him, the light inside goes off, the rotating plate slows to a stop.
No explosions this time. That’s an improvement.
When he makes it back to the couch, the melon now pleasantly warm between his palms, Seunghyun is still there, exactly as he left him—except that with his own glass of wine long gone, he’s moved on to Daesung’s. Sipping leisurely like it was his all along, without a shred of remorse.
That’s fine, Daesung decides. The wine can wait. This Sugar Kiss, however, has been sweetly calling his name all day.
He reclaims his spot on the couch, but not before throwing down a towel. This could get sticky very quickly, and to ruin his hyungs’ precious furniture would be a real boner killer. Hell, Seunghyun might take it a step further and kill him.
“Right, so... first things first.”
He pokes a finger inside the melon to test its temperature.
“You’re really gonna do it?”
“If you still think this is some elaborate prank...” Daesung doesn’t finish, popping the button on his too-tight fly instead. Swift and efficient, he unzips. Fishes out his plumped-up dick, flush against his hip. He can’t be bothered to make a show of it. The melon didn’t explode this time, but he might if he doesn’t get some relief soon.
With Seunghyun watching him over the rim of his glass, Daesung works his pants down to his knees, giving himself room to work with. Plays with himself a moment to ensure he’s good and ready—a long, slow stroke from base to tip, a thumb teasing at the stretched-thin skin under the head, each touch a tiny, tantalizing electric shock. His thighs tense, taut muscles jumping with each pass. It doesn’t take long, not with those heavy eyes trained on him. He tries to hold Seunghyun’s fierce gaze as he lowers the melon, really gives it his best effort, but he can’t—his eyes slip shut the moment the rind slips over him. He lets gravity do the rest, the melon sucking him into itself as it crawls its way down his length, a stream of juice squeezing out the side and smoothing the way, as warm and wet and wonderful as any willing body.
Some days he still can’t believe he let Seungri talk him into trying this. Other days he’s so fucking glad he did.
He starts out slow, half to savor the experience and half for Seunghyun’s benefit, keenly aware of his audience but trading sight for sound and sensation, the slippery squeeze of the melon’s velvety flesh around his cock every bit as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be. He knows this hyung is a connoisseur of visual pleasures but he hopes he’ll do more than just observe. Daesung wants him to suffer exquisitely in tandem. To feel, as if it was his own, his need swelling and surging with every drag of the melon up his straining, aching shaft—the immense pressure as it engulfs him and the suction as he pries it up and off, loathe to let him go.
He sighs, head tipping back to hit the couch, cool leather a relief against his heated skin.
Yeah, alright, now he’s putting on a show. He’s a bit short on shame these days. Seunghyun’s seen everything anyway. Having fucked the embarrassment out of each other ages ago, they are long past the point of shy smiles and averted eyes.
This silence though.
Daesung opens his eyes open to check on his hyung and comes face to face with the little camera lens on the back of Seunghyun’s phone.
“Hyung!” he shrieks, launching himself at the other man and swatting the phone out of his hands—or desperately trying to. They crash onto the couch together, Daesung on top, the melon popping off his cock and fleeing across the hardwood floor.
He stops struggling only when he’s got Seunghyun good and pinned, glaring down into eyes that shine with mischief and mirth—and a hint of something heavier.
His effort to swipe the phone from his hands has brought them crotch to crotch, cock to cock. He arches his back and stretches, steadying himself with one hand on the arm of the couch and reaching over his hyung’s head with the other... and can’t suppress the breathy sound he makes when the motion sends his hips squarely into Seunghyun’s, the hypersensitive head of his bare cock scraping over Seunghyun’s slacks.
“Your phone,” he gasps when on his next attempt Seunghyun rises to meet him. “Hand it over.”
“Can’t make me.” In retaliation, Seunghyun pushes up again, sending another jolt of pleasure through him. Crippling him on purpose.
Daesung buries his face in Seunghyun’s shoulder to staunch his frustrated, frightened laughter. The phone, the phone! It’s just out of reach for him, Seunghyun’s arms dangling over the side of the couch, high over his head where Daesung can’t have it. For all he knows the damn thing’s probably still recording.
He sags against him, giving in.
“Too good to pass up. Don’t worry, it’s just for me.”
“Delete it. You have to.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Seunghun sasses back. “But I might consider giving you what you want if you ask nicely.”
“Please,” Daesung doesn’t hesitate to beg. He just wanted to show his hyung a good time. He was hoping that maybe, just this once, Seunghyun wouldn’t give him a hard time.
Seunghyun cranes his head back and seems to fiddle with the phone, falling silent. Daesung waits anxiously for an announcement that the cursed video is no more.
“Are you deleting it?”
“Sending to the group chat.”
“No you’re not! ” Daesung half-laughs, half-cries, pushing up onto his knees and slapping at his wrists again. Seungri wouldn’t give a shit, he’s half to blame for his newfound perversion, but what would Jiyong think? Or Youngbae?
“What’s the big deal? I bet Jiyong will request a private showing.” Seunghyun hums in thought, seeming pleased. “Youngbae will drag you to church.”
Daesung glares down at him, hardly amused.
“Hyung, I’m not playing around. I mean it, you have to get rid of it.”
Seunghyun pouts up at him, feigning hurt.
“You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust your late night drunken shitposting.” Daesung presses his face into Seunghyun’s flannel top. The shirt is soft and smells like him, but the buttons dig in. “And you left your phone on a plane! Without a password or anything!”
“One time,” Seunghyun says defensively.
Daesung presses on, “No protection. None whatsoever.” He knows he has a solid case. He just has to make Seunghyun see it.
“I got it back.”
“There could be videos of us out there right now, just waiting to be released.”
“I’ve never filmed you before.”
“That I know of,” Daesung bites back.
Seunghyun toys with his phone and still says nothing, his face a mask of misbehavior, complete with shifty eyes and guilty grin.
Fine, Daesung thinks, pushing up and off the couch. If that’s how he’s going to be, then they’re done here.
“Sabotage, that’s what this is,” Daesung mutters, moving to tug his pants up his thighs. “And to think, all I wanted to do was share something nice with you.”
Seunghyun nearly breaks his neck when he yanks him back down by it.
“I’ll delete it later,” Seunghyun says gruffly. “But first...” and Daesung’s whole body seizes up when long fingers find his length and wrap around it, a closed fist pulling on him purposefully from root to tip.
“Fuck,” he pants, toes curling in helpless pleasure.
“Exactly. Don’t you have a melon to finish fucking?”
Daesung huffs out a breath, crushing his forehead to Seunghyun’s chest again, breathing him in as he follows that hand, caught somewhere between peeved and pleased. He hadn’t gone soft, not quite, but the shock of being filmed against his will along with Seunghyun’s refusal to erase the evidence left him flagging.
Now, though, he’s back in business. Seunghyun’s touch has always had that effect on him.
“You can’t just do it now?”
“Hands are full.” And they are; one on his cock and one on his neck and both give a simultaneous squeeze, playful and promising—and knowing Seunghyun, a touch threatening.
“Mm, yeah they are.” This time Daesung doesn’t fight it, he fucks it, frowning when his cock slides a little less smoothly through Seunghyun’s fingers than he likes. The juice is turning tacky as it dries. He’ll need another dip soon.
Seunghyun drops him as if burned.
“Nuh-uh. You didn’t come here for a handy.”
“But I could come from a handy,” Daesung whines, past the point of caring.
“Nope, it’s the melon or nothing.”
“Oh my god, fine.”
So Daesung gets up to retrieve their wayward melon, because of course it’s gone and rolled itself all the way across the room, shucking his pants off as he goes. This time Seunghyun lets him go—but Daesung feels his ravenous eyes following him all the way there and back.
He settles between Seunghyun’s open legs when he rejoins him on the couch. Seunghyun reaches for the melon with hands outstretched, ready to receive.
Daesung hands it over eagerly. “Gonna help me out this time?”
“In a minute.” Seunghyun presses the melon to his own still-clothed cock, rubbing it up and down the seam of his tented slacks with a deep moan, as if gauging the fruit’s size by feel alone.
“Here?” he teases Daesung, turning the melon around until the hole faces him, dark and wet and a raw red-orange in the low light between them.
A pang of need hits him hard.
He suspends himself over Seunghyun with both arms outstretched and finds his way in by feel, staring, captivated, at the prominent veins across the backs of Seunghyun’s large hands. At the focused manner with which he grips the melon, tipping it down to meet him when it takes him a few tries to find his way in.
And then, with Seunghyun holding it good and steady for him, Daesung does what he came here to do: he fucks a melon.
The force of his thrusts send the melon into his crotch again and again and Seunghyun’s grip tightens, knuckles white, short but sharp nails digging in. The harder Daesung goes the quieter he gets—no more banter, no more jokes, just parted lips and shallow breaths and softly panted encouragements. The loudest thing between them is the melon squelching out a complaint with every thrust, the squish of his hard dick reaching in deep, the gooey, smacking kiss when he retreats. The wet sounds fill up the silence and soon he can’t stand it, a sheepish smile breaking out on his face and he looks to Seunghyun to laugh along with him... and finds that Seunghyun’s eyes aren’t on the melon. They’re locked on him.
Seunghyun always did like to watch. Years on the stage and countless nights under bright lights pale in comparison to the rush he gets when he’s under the gaze of his greatest admirer. Since the day they met, this hyung has always been his most captivated audience. Seunghyun savors the sight of him.
He is not alone in his attraction. Daesung feels the pull too.
He is just beginning to lean in, pitching his body down and into Seunghyun’s when Seunghyun gets the same idea; he frees up one hand to welcome Daesung into a scorching kiss. Daesung grins then, wet sounds at both ends. He tries to time his thrusts to each kiss, just for kicks—the drummer in him demands it—but it’s hard to keep the rhythm when Seunghyun’s going at him like this, all enthusiasm and no finesse.
There is no sweetness left in him, his earlier sampling of the Sugar Kiss overpowered by the bitter tang of dark wine, fermented berries, and aged oak barrels.
Seunghyun combs fingers through the cropped hair at the base of his skull, trimmed nails teasing at the sensitive skin there. Goosebumps race across Daesung’s chest and down his arms, the fine hairs there standing on end—along with other parts of him.
Bastard. Seunghyun knows what that touch there does to him.
Sure enough, the hand from his neck and clips a quick path around front, holding flush to his throat, sweating palm against his racing pulse.
Seunghyun shoves the melon at him and Daesung jerks into it like a reflex.
“Again,” he says, breaking the kiss to watch for his reaction. Daesung’s chest and hips heave, plunging in as far as he can go. His cockhead strikes the other end and it’s a split-second shock, pleasure mixed with pain, and his face contorts in confusion.
But Seunghyun seems to like it. Hot breath hits his chin, hungry eyes devour him.
Daesung looks away, needing a moment to collect himself. It’s a lot to take in, how effortlessly Seunghyun overwhelms him.
“You know,” he gasps, hips swinging to a shallow, steady tempo in and out of the Sugar Kiss. “I could cut another hole. We could both... at the same time...”
Seunghyun gives the fruit in his hands a dubious look.
“This little thing?”
“I could widen it,” Daesung offers, thinking up other possibilities. “The hole, I mean. We can share. Maybe squeeze in there together.”
Seunghyun touches his tongue to his lip, considering.
“Aren’t you close already?”
“I can...” I can wait, he was going to say, but Seunghyun twists the melon atop him in a sneaky move and suddenly he isn’t so sure.
“That’s what I thought.”
Daesung huffs out a laugh, but in a way, he’s relieved. Just because he can stop doesn’t mean he wants to.
“One thing I still don’t get,” Seunghyun says, squinting at him in suspicion, “is how Seungri, of all people, was the first to try this. I know he has those creepy friends of his but I’d have put money on you.”
“Oh thanks.” Daesung “I guess I was always too busy eating them to even think of...” He stops short, something catching his eye.
“Dicking them?” Seunghyun finishes for him. Then, when he doesn’t answer, “What? What is it?” He tosses his head back, hanging over the arm of the couch until he’s upside down, trying to see what’s got Daesung so spooked.
“It’s that damn deer,” Daesung says at last, scrunching his nose up at the sculpture in the corner. It’s one of Seunghyun’s favorites: an antlered beast covered head to hoof in artsy glass orbs. Has that been there all this time?
Seunghyun grins up at him. “Does it bother you?”
“It’s staring right at us,” Daesung complains.
Seunghyun laughs at him. Laughs! Daesung can feel it through the melon.
“Can we put a towel over its eyes or something?”
“Or we could...” Seunghyun tugs on the melon, disconnecting it from him. “...move this to the bedroom.”
“Nnn—no,” Daesung gasps at the rush of cool air around his wet cock.
“I thought you liked having an audience,” Seunghyun says, poking fun at him. “You didn’t mind me watching.”
“Just feels like it’s judging me.”
“Oh good, you still have some shame left. You’re not a complete degenerate. Yet.”
Daesung scoffs. “Yeah, well, working on that.”
“Seungri thinks he can corrupt you, huh?” Seunghyun feigns surprise—or tries to. The effect is ruined when he fits the melon back over him, deciding that the couch is fine after all. “If only he knew I was here first.”
And with that, he covers Daesung with the melon again and all thoughts of the bubble deer disappear.
“Fuuuck, hyung. ”
Daesung moans long and low when the melon pops off his cock, Seunghyun giving it a little surprise twist just as it’s leaving the tip. Grabs Seunghyun’s thighs to keep himself from snatching it away from him and finishing himself off. He’s close and Seunghyun is cruel.
“Give it back,” Daesung whines, hating himself for begging, but the time for games has passed. He wants to be done with this, he wants to come. And Seunghyun seems to sense this, obliging him and setting the Sugar Kiss low between his legs in a position that would be natural for him were he fucking anything but a melon. Lining himself up and nudging his hips forward just enough to prod the rim, his frenulum catching on firm skin with a burst of heat that fans out inside him, Daesung knows he doesn’t have long.
Dropping his head low, Daesung decides to just go for it, to finish this, chasing that feeling, arms trembling at the sweet, sweet torture. Thrusting wildly, he’s lost his rhythm and the drummer in him doesn’t give a damn. Seunghyun wants him to lose control and wants to be the cause of it. He’ll take Daesung apart bit by bit and cherish every second.
And with Seunghyun watching him work himself into a frenzy, he’s under the spotlight again. There’s no microphone at his lips or music to move to, but he doesn’t need it. This is a familiar dance, one he’s quite practiced at, and sprawled out beenath him is his favorite partner. Even if the object between them is new.
And just like when he’s on stage, Daesung becomes someone else, someone other than himself. Someone fearless, who swivels his hips and showcases his sexuality without shame. There are no lights or cameras here, no screams from sweating, frenzied fans… but Seunghyun’s rapt attention is as powerful as any bass drum. It beats through him, a spotlight blinding him, fireworks dazzling him. It’s all he needs to reach his peak.
Finally, sweet release.
His arms give out. Dick slipping free of the melon with a slick sound, he slumps onto Seunghyun in a puddle of contentment.
“Up, up here,” Seunghyun says, taking him by the head and connecting them in another kiss. This time it’s all Seunghyun; Daesung doesn’t have the presence of mind to do much more than let him in.
“Your turn?” he manages between Seunghyun’s machine gun kisses.
“Don’t wann’ share?” he slurs, and the melon hits the floor for the second time that day. Hole end up, he hopes, otherwise he’ll be scrubbing cum from the floor later.
“I brought two.” He mumbles, mental faculties still slowly coming back to him. “So if you want the other one...”
“To be honest, I’m not really in the mood for melon. This though,” He taps a finger on Daesung’s kiss-reddened lips. “This looks juicy and delicious.”
For a second Daesung is flung back in time, to one sweltering summer afternoon in a Japanese hotel room, reeking of scorched melon and sex. Seungri had said the same thing. Sort of.
“Your mouth. No melon in the world comes close.”
“Oh.” Daesung closes his lips around the invading fingertip, suckling lightly. “Okay.”
He sinks back and down, fitting his broad shoulders snugly between Seunghyun’s thighs while Seunghyun grapples with his fly.
“How do I look?” Seunghyun asks, taking his cock in hand and propping himself upright for Daesung’s viewing pleasure. Showoff, Daesung thinks fondly. His cock is as handsome as the rest of him, resembling the fingers that hold it: proud in its length, uniform in width from base to tip, not so tapered as other dicks Daesung has played with. And best of all? Every inch of him always leaves him feeling fucking fantastic.
“Good enough to eat,” Daesung says, opens wide and invites it inside.
Like sipping a smoothie from a straw, he coaxes the flavor up and out of him—just enough to see Seunghyun drop his head back against the couch arm and squirm, hips rocking gently under his face, hands in his hair holding him in place.
From its lonely place in the corner, the bubble deer looks on. But this time, with his head down and mouth full, Daesung takes no notice of its glassy gaze. It’s hard to care about sculptures spying on them when all he can see, taste, and smell is Seunghyun’s sex.
“Is this okay?” There’s a steady pressure across his scalp, Seunghyun gathering his hair in fistfuls, tugging, testing.
A sharp sting shoots across his scalp.
“Talking with your mouth full?” Seunghyun pets the pain away. “Thought I taught you better.”
Daesung would laugh if he could. His lips pull back in a grin and a line of saliva slips free, dribbling down Seunghyun’s shaft like it’s got somewhere to be.
“I said go ahead,” he clarifies, lifting up and off so he’s understood this time. “But don’t leave me with bald spots. Taehyun would have your head.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Seunghyun sighs as Daesung’s sweet heat returns to his cock, the hands in his hair easing up and turning less corrective, more appreciative. Daesung knows he’s good, but a little grateful petting to let him know just how good doesn’t hurt. Usually.
“You shouldn’t make fun of me when I’m down here,” Daesung threatens lightly. “You don’t know what I might do.”
“I know I’m safe with you.”
Daesung hums in agreement, because he can talk shit all he likes but when it comes down to it, Seunghyun is right. This hyung he always handles with the utmost care. He gets back down to business, tongue scraping the underside, licking at his slit, flicking against his frenulum, that little ridge under the head that always gets his hips going... and huffs out a hot breath through his nose when Seunghyun’s thighs clamp down around his ears. He’s so close to coming Daesung can taste it.
Easing up and off, he lays a loving kiss on his leaking tip.
“Tell me when you’re about to come.”
“Why?” Seunghyun pants, difficult as always.
“Because I don’t want you surprising me.” Seunghyun has this sneaky habit of “forgetting” to warn him and shooting all over his face, which Daesung hates. He’s meticulous about what he lets touch his skin. A complexion this clear doesn’t happen by accident.
Really though, all skincare concerns aside, he wants it in his mouth. And he isn’t about to let Seunghyun deprive him of his reward.
Seunghyun slides his hands down Daesung’s ears to his jaw, cupping it at the corners and guiding him back in wordlessly, onto himself, expertly placing him right where he wants him.
So Daesung licks his lips to wet them and goes down on him again, angling his head to one side, helping Seunghyun’s cock to paint a wet trail over the inside of one cheek where the skin is spongy and silky soft. Seunghyun exhales hard, thumbs pressing into the sides of his face painfully, and Daesung knows he’s seconds away from having his prize. He’s just flattened his tongue to Seunghyun’s shaft, holding fast to its heat and hardness and dropping low, as low as he can go, the end of his nose touching hair, when Seunghyun surges under him with a sharp grunt, and that’s all the notice Daesung gets before a stream of scalding hot cum is flowing up and over the back of his tongue.
So much for that heads-up he was promised.
Unlike with Seungri, he swallows all he’s given readily. Even cleans him up, mouthing lazily at his slit to catch any delayed drops. Seunghyun has this funny habit of finding more just when Daesung thinks he’s all done.
And even if there’s nothing more on the way, it’s fun, feeling him tense and twitch under his care, his flawless face wrecked by sweet torment.
A hand smacks him in the face, shoving him away.
“No more,” Seunghyun protests weakly, voice as spent as his softening cock. “The fuck are you trying to do, suck the life out of me?”
“Just making sure,” Daesung says, feeling rather pleased with himself. He sits up languidly, clearing the last traces of him from his lips. It’s no melon flavor, but he worked hard for it.
“Did you tell him?” Seunghyun slurs, still recovering. “Does he know?”
“Who? Know what?”
“About us.” Seunghyun’s head rolls to one side, half-lidded eyes connecting lazily with his. “You know who.”
“No. Your secret’s safe,” Daesung assures him, getting comfortable in the space between his hyung’s warm body and the back of the couch. Seunghyun scoffs and Daesung pretends he didn’t hear it; it isn’t Seunghyun who insists they keep this thing between them quiet. If it were up to him, everyone in the band would have known years ago.
“Our secret,” Seunghyun corrects him.
“But I think he suspects something’s up,” Daesung continues. Seungri is too astute for his own good sometimes.
“Because you gobbled up his cock so quick?”
“Because I gobbled up his cock so good.”
Eyes closed, Seunghyun hums in contentment.
“How do I taste? Sweet?”
“Liar,” Seunghyun laughs.
“Yeah, it’s no Sugar Kiss,” Daesung admits. “But I like it. Because it’s, you know... you.”
That was harder to say than it should have been. Like some long overdue confession, strangely, embarrassingly intimate.
Seunghyun sways into him, nipping at his earlobe and surprising a laugh out of him.
“You don’t like sweet stuff anyway.”
He’s right, melon being one notable exception.
“So how do we compare?”
“You and the melon?” A breath of hot air dusts over his ear, Seunghyun shaking with silent laughter. “Oh, you and Seungri.”
Stuffing his face into his shoulder, Seunghyun nods.
“No contest,” he says, grinning. “Must be all that wine you drink. It’s grapes, right?”
“Wine is a fruit,” Seunghyun muses. “Today I learned.”
“You learned a few things today.”
“Yeah,” Seunghyun rumbles, walking a few frisky fingers down the crease of his hip, his destination clear.
Daesung lets him, legs falling open in invitation. Runs his tongue over the insides of his mouth, scouring his teeth and cheeks clean.
“I could go for a glass right now. You know, to wash it down.” He leans over Seunghyun and reaches for his empty glass. Sets it on the other man’s chest with a long look of lament. “If you hadn’t drank mine…”
“Don’t be mad. I love you.”
Daesung smiles sweetly. He wasn’t upset to begin with, wasn’t about to chew him out. But those three little words…
Time to put that declaration to the test.
“How much is left?”
“One glass, maybe. A full one,” Seunghyun hazards a guess.
“If you really love me, you’ll let me have it,” Daesung murmurs, transferring the cool glass to Seunghyun’s waiting hand. “And I’ll let you have me.”
Seunghyun’s eyes change then, from sheepish to searing, a burgeoning heat that Daesung only ever sees when he’s thinking about one thing.
He scrambles up on shaky legs, clutching the glass to his heart with a sense of purpose.
Daesung hangs over the side of the couch and pulls his pants to him by one leg, fishes out his boxer-briefs and is just about to step into them when in the kitchen, the bottle meets the countertop with a panicked clink, glass on granite.
Daesung drops them.
Okay. Guess he’s going without for the rest of the day.
While Seunghyun pours, Daesung scoops the Sugar Kiss up off the floor. He balances it on the table and snaps another pic, making sure the used end is upturned and on display, a splash of juice and a smear of cum floating up around the rim. It isn’t until the picture’s been sent and he’s turning to go that he notices something familiar in the background: the glint of light on hundreds of hollow glass bubbles.
Oh no. Oh shit.
Seungri doesn’t miss it.
Wait, hold up. I know that bubble-encrusted deer, he writes.
Daesung grimaces, kicking himself for his carelessness.
Are you at TOP-hyung’s? DOES HE KNOW?
He stares at the flood of messages filling up his screen, at a loss for words.
OMG. DAESUNG-HYUNG HELLO?
Should he tell him? It would be cruel to leave him hanging…
Before he can make up his mind, a glass of fragrant wine, freshly-poured, blocks his view.
“Here.” Seunghyun steals a look at their chat. “Seungri again?”
“He knows where I am. And who I’m with. And... the melon.” Daesung chuckles, fingers flying across the keys. “He’s freaking out.”
“Because the secret’s out.”
“Maybe he’s excited?” Daesung guesses. That’s the trouble with text: can’t always tell tone.
“I told you, it’s not like that.”
Daesung lowers his phone, distracted, when a hot hand curls under one ass cheek and squeezes him possessively. The cool rim of the glass bumps against his lips.
“Drink your wine.”
Talk later, is all Seungri gets from him before he’s throwing his phone on the couch, throwing back the wine, and letting himself be led from the room.
“Hyung,” he laughs when he’s ushered into Seunghyun’s room and pointed toward the bed, something coming back to him. Something important. “The video though—”
“You’re thinking about that now? I said I’ll do it later.” He lets out an oof when Daesung socks him in the shoulder. “Later!”
Daesung flops onto the bed, legs splayed wide so Seunghyun has plenty of room. “The things I let you get away with.”
“Do you want to get fucked or not?”
In reply, Daesung slides a hand down his front until he’s reaching under his balls, down his perineum, dipping beneath and diving in, a heavy breath escaping him as he locks eyes with his wide-eyed, red-faced hyung. Seunghyun can’t quite see, but where his fingers disappear to is no mystery.
“How’s that for an answer.”
Seunghyun can’t get on him fast enough—or get what's left of their clothes off. Shirts and pants hit the carpet and it’s all skin on skin from there. Settling back and accepting him between his knees, Daesung scribbles a mental note to update their fretting maknae on the melon situation later. Right now he’s the one with urgent business to attend to, ready and waiting for a little of that same loving he put the melon through.
Daesung already had his sugar. He'll make sure Seunghyun gets his too.