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“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Sunoo swallows the lump down his throat, eyes fixed on the glass doors before them.
He feels the grip on his right hand tighten followed by a soft stroke on his knuckles and it makes him look up at the person beside him.
Sunghoon stands tall and handsome, strands of platinum hair framing his face and resting prettily on his cheekbones. He turns Sunoo’s way, eyes soft and kind. It was a stark contrast to the sharpness the rest of his features hold.
The softness spreads Sunghoon’s lips, corners tugging upwards to give the younger boy a reassuring smile.
“I know, baby,” His voice is just as warm when he speaks. “But I know how much this means to you, so I want to do it too.”
Sunoo is stunned into silence, completely in awe of the boy before him. The words work to settle the nausea stirring in his stomach, and for a minute he can pretend like he’s not about to bring Sunghoon head first into the lion’s den.
They’re standing a few feet away from one of the country club’s many dining halls. The frosted glass doors act as a barrier that separates them from what’s waiting inside, and while they can’t see exactly who is on the other side, the shadows give it away.
The thought prompts another lump to form in Sunoo’s throat.
Before he could get lost in his thoughts again, Sunghoon gives their intertwined hands another gentle squeeze.
“Don’t worry about me, baby,” He starts, ever observant of the way his boyfriend’s mind works.
“I can handle them. Plus, if it doesn’t end well,” Sunghoon’s voice lowers when he says this. He looks at Sunoo in the eye when he lets go of the younger boy’s hand.
It almost makes him whine, words forming at the tip of his tongue about how it was the only thing keeping him from freaking out at the moment, but it never makes it past his lips.
The words die in his throat when he feels the same hand travel to his back, moving low, low, low, until it rests just above his ass. The placement serves its purpose — memories of what his boyfriend placed inside him before they left their apartment flashing in his mind.
Sunghoon leans into his space, lips a breath away from his ear.
“We can always take it somewhere else.”
When they crossed the glass doors, they were immediately greeted by two men in black suits. They bow to the two boys briefly before taking their belongings and setting them to the side. Sunoo and Sunghoon smile and whisper their thanks to the servers, one of which motioning towards the long table situated in the middle of the vast dining hall.
Sitting on one end of the table is a man in his mid-forties. His hair is pushed up and his lips are pursed thin, eyes void of emotion as he looks at the two.
He does not spare the two a smile; doesn’t even bother to stand in greeting.
“You’re late.” Sunoo figures this is his father’s way of acknowledging their presence.
He bites down the scoff threatening to escape his lips. Instead, he paints a sickeningly sweet smile — the same kind he gives to those who get a little too close to Sunghoon when he comes to watch him race.
“There was an incident in the intersection,” Sunoo explains as they make their way to him. “It can’t be helped.”
His father smirks and shakes his head. He folds the table cloth neatly on top of his lap, pressing down on every crease that he comes across. “All that racing and he can’t even make it on time.”
The old man is making it harder for Sunoo to keep the smile on his face, but he focuses instead on the hand that slips into his palm. When he looks up at the taller boy, he watches him put on a mask of politeness.
He bends to give Sunoo’s father a low bow. “My apologies, Sir. I should have known better.” He rises to stand straight once more.
Sunghoon extends his arm towards him. “I’m Park Sunghoon, Kim Sunoo’s boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”
The old man remains seated, hands flat on his lap. He merely gives the boy a once-over, blatantly ignoring his outstretched hand, and nods at the empty chairs before him. “Take your seats. The food is getting cold. You know how it makes me lose my appetite.”
Sunoo takes a deep breath, clenches the fist hidden in the pink cardigan he’s wearing, and straightens his shoulders.
It’s going to be a really long lunch.
The coldness of the dining hall could match the atmosphere surrounding the three. It’s been thirty minutes since they started eating, and yet none of them have uttered a single word.
Sunghoon and Sunoo are seated beside each other, much to the latter’s relief, because he’s unsure how to handle his father all on his own. The silence is unnerving, if Sunoo is being honest, but it’s nothing new, either. This is how all his meals go when shared with his father. This is how it’s always been since his mother left.
It does not get any easier, though. The tension makes a prickling sensation form in the bottom of Sunoo’s spine and leaves him with no choice but to sit as straight as he can. The only sounds that bounce through the walls of the room are the clashing of silverware and porcelain.
It almost feels like waiting for the pin to drop, and it does when Sunoo’s father speaks.
“What do you do for a living, Sowon?”
Sunghoon places his chopsticks down. “It’s Sunghoon, sir.” He corrects the old man, the polite smile from a while ago coming back.
“Okay, Sunghoon, ” Sunoo’s father raises a glass of wine to his lips. He takes an excruciatingly long sip before setting it down. “What do you do for a living?”
“I was a professional race car driver for five years. I was in the national team for two, but now—”
“--you take it to the streets.” Sunghoon’s father cuts him off without even meeting his gaze. Pats his lips gently with the tablecloth laid on his lap.
He folds it neatly once more. “You were a professional, and now you use these skills for something that can get you behind bars.”
“Father—”
“What? Did I not get it right?” The old man chuckles, amused and nonchalant. It only infuriates Sunoo.
“He’s no longer in the race tracks, Sunoo. The profession stops when he takes it to empty highways in the middle of the night. Anyone in their right mind would agree with me.”
“Sunghoon is good at what he does. He hasn’t lost a single race since I’ve known him—”
“ Illegal races, Sunoo,” His father emphasizes with raised eyebrows. “Races backed by ridiculous amounts of money that come from God knows where—”
“— from companies like yours.”
Whatever retort Sunoo was planning to say in retaliation disappears immediately when Sunghoon rests his hand on his thigh, palm covering the expanse and fingers caressing the inner seam of his jeans softly.
Don’t worry, baby, Sunoo hears Sunghoon’s voice replay in his mind, I can handle them.
Sunghoon continues from where he interrupted the old man’s little rant. “Street races are backed by under-the-table deals with some of the biggest conglomerates in the world.”
“I’ve seen these discussions myself — participated in them firsthand — and the money they spend on these illegal races is no joke. But you know what is?”
The polite smile forms into a smirk, grip on Sunoo’s thigh tightening as he gives the old man a taunting gaze, almost like he’s challenging him.
The platinum-haired boy does not wait for a response. He gives the man the same once-over he received a while ago, and says, “The fact that you’re acting all high and mighty, like the Kim Group of Companies isn’t our biggest funder.”
Sunoo knows Sunghoon. He knows the older’s words can bite if he wants it to. He will form it in a way that hurts, and he’ll do it without mercy, not when the love of his life is involved. Especially when the love of his life is involved.
They talked about this back in their shared apartment, voicing out his concerns to the older after getting out of the shower.
“My father’s not nice,” He warned, hands on Sunghoon’s chest sliding up to fix the collar of his leather jacket. “He knows about you and what you do. He will attack you for it, but just ignore what he’ll say.” Sunoo had scoffed and added, “God knows it’s what I’ve been doing all my life.”
He patted the older’s shoulders and looked up at him. His expression was serious, and Sunghoon could see the weight of his boyfriend’s worries in the way his eyebrows furrowed.
Sunghoon knows Sunoo, too. He knows he worries just as much as he tries to hide it.
He pressed a soft kiss to the younger’s cheek, left an upward trail to the shell of his ear, and said, “I’ll be on my best behavior, baby,” He stood back straight and cupped the side of his boyfriend’s neck with his hand, thumb grazing his jaw.
“But you know how I am when people cross the line. I don’t like letting them be.”
Sunoo smiled. He loved that about the older boy, and if he’s being honest, imagining his boyfriend shutting his father up delighted him. “I know that, and I know you can handle yourself, but I just don’t want to see you on the receiving end of his quips.”
“I’ll make sure you won’t have to look, then.”
Sunoo opened his eyes at the older boy’s words. He gave him a questioning look, head tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”
Sunghoon had given him a fond smile then, eyes flitting towards a small, white box sitting at the edge of their bed. Sunoo followed his gaze, eyes widening at the obvious implication.
“I have a little distraction in mind.”
Sunghoon closed the distance between their lips. They left for the country club shortly after, distraction sitting prettily in his boyfriend’s hole and a thin, silver remote hidden in the pocket of his jeans.
It’s precisely this distraction — and Sunghoon’s hand caressing his thigh in repeated motions — that prevents him from losing his cool. Instead, he focuses on the look in his father’s face.
It’s a minute change in expression, but Sunoo sees it: the slightest twitch in his father’s eye, the subtle tremble in the man’s lips.
But his father is nothing if not prideful. He wouldn’t be who he is today — chairman of one of South Korea’s largest trading companies — if he didn’t know how to play this game.
Sunghoon just knows it better.
Still, the old man refuses to be silenced without a fight, so he laughs. He leans back against the velvet chair and tips his chin up. “Careful with your words, Sunghoon .” He warns, eyes squinting.
“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” The old man adds. “Say one wrong thing, and I’ll make sure you’ll never see my son again.”
Sunoo nearly bolts out of his seat upon hearing this, but is stopped by the firm grip on his thigh. He opts to bite back with words instead, but that comes to a halt too the moment he hears — no, feels — a soft, whirring sound.
When he turns to the side, he notices Sunghoon’s other hand is placed in the pocket of his jeans. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back the moan that’s quickly forming.
The sensation is overwhelming and it has him clinging to the sides of his seat. This is the distraction Sunghoon offered. This is the distraction they agreed on.
He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t working.
He almost misses the way Sunghoon scoffs at his father’s threat.
“You have ears everywhere, sir?” The hand on his thigh inches upwards, fingertips grazing just above the zipper of his jeans, and it makes him shudder.
Without warning, the hand that was on him moves back to his own hand. Enclosed in a tight grip, Sunghoon stands up from his seat and pulls Sunoo with him, the latter on shaky legs.
The vibrating sensation is still there, making it almost impossible for him to walk, but Sunghoon places a hand on his back. He keeps it there as he takes a few steps closer to where his boyfriend’s father is sitting, and crouches down to look him in the eye.
With an amused smile, he whispers—
“Then you should hear how good he sounds when he screams my name.”
They’re out of the hall and inside the country club’s restroom within seconds. Sunoo places his palms on the marble countertop, all of his weight resting on his arms.
The intimidating exterior Sunghoon carried in the dining hall immediately disappeared the moment they were alone. He moves close to his boyfriend, concern etched all over his features.
Not that Sunoo could see it. He’s too busy catching his breath.
“Baby,” Sunghoon’s voice is back to being warm and gentle. Sunoo hears the sound of a button clicking and then the sensation is gone. “Are you okay?”
Sunoo whimpers at the loss and falls forward. It alarms Sunghoon, prompting him to rub soothing circles on his back.
“Why?”
“Hm?”
He turns his head to look Sunghoon in the eye. His cheeks are painted pink, bottom lip glistening cherry red from how hard he was biting down on it. Then, “Why did you turn it off?”
The older boy blinks back at him. Confusion and concern blend together in the way he’s looking at Sunoo. Caring, Sunoo concludes. Sunghoon has always been attentive and caring. It’s part of why he’s madly in love with him.
But if Sunghoon gives him that look one more time, he might just lose his mind.
“Turn it back on.” Sunoo pleads, eyes shining from unshed tears.
“ Please,” He begs, “I need you to turn it back on right now.”
Before Sunghoon could respond, lips collided with his. He takes Sunoo into his arms and steadies him, large hands covering almost the entirety of the younger boy’s small waist.
It stirs something hot in his stomach.
Sunoo places his hands on the older’s shoulders and uses it to pull himself up on the counter. He spreads his legs open, right hand traveling to the back of Sunghoon’s neck to pull him closer.
Sunghoon grips Sunoo’s thigh with his left hand, the other slipping into his pocket to fiddle with the remote. Just like that, they hear the beginnings of a familiar whirring sound — along with it, an unbridled moan.
The sensation makes Sunoo break their lips apart. His head falls to the crook of Sunghoon’s neck where he plants open-mouthed kisses all over his jaw.
The younger’s hands move to Sunghoon’s back, nails scratching down until his fingers hook onto his belt. “You’re right,” Sunoo says after leaving a mark just under the shell of his ear.
He leans back to watch it bloom purple, a satisfied smile on his face. When he presses a thumb on it, his eyes sparkle at the way Sunghoon shivers. Then, he finishes his train of thought.
“It was a good distraction.”
For all the words Sunghoon said to his boyfriend’s father, he’s rendered completely speechless at this moment.
He tries his best to process how quickly things have progressed in the past hour and it leaves his mind in a haze. It no longer surprises him when he hears the first words to come out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry the lunch sucked.”
Sunoo is clearly taken aback, but it only makes him burst into laughter, all bright and loud. He throws his head back as he laughs and returns to look at Sunghoon with the fondest smile.
He kisses Sunghoon softly — a contrast to how heated things were just seconds ago — and presses their foreheads together. He scrunches his nose. When his boyfriend mimics this, he giggles softly before leaving a kiss on Sunghoon’s nose.
“You don’t have to apologize, baby,” He assures the older, hands trailing up and down the sides of Sunghoon’s chest. “He acted just as I knew he would.”
Sunghoon moves closer until his waist hits the edge of the counter, which also hits the remote in his pocket. The whirring grows louder.
Sunoo moans automatically, body falling forward on his. He cradles the back of the younger’s head upward to meet him in a feverish kiss, tongues spreading heat all over their mouths.
He swallows the sounds that come out of Sunoo and the younger does the same when Sunghoon groans at the sensation of his hair being pulled with a tight grip.
It’s messy — more clashing of teeth than anything — but it sends flames up their spines. Sunghoon’s hands never leave Sunoo’s thighs. He slips his fingers through the slits in the younger’s ripped jeans, nails leaving angry red marks on pale skin.
He sucks on Sunoo’s bottom lip, eliciting another wrecked moan from the younger. He gives his thighs another squeeze before removing one of his hands. He moves it to Sunoo’s back, follows the vibrations to its source, and presses his fingers against the fabric.
The pressure makes Sunoo’s back arch prettily, head thrown back and baring his neck. It makes Sunghoon go feral.
He latches onto the younger’s neck, lips placed right where his pressure point lies, and sucks hard at the same time he pushes the plug further inside him.
“Hyung,” Sunoo whines, voice breaking at the end of his plea. Sunghoon knows this like the back of his hand.
It’s a perfectly choreographed dance; a routine of their own divided into parts.
The prelude goes like this—
Lips on lips, the clashing of teeth, hands roaming the expanse of fabric until they reach skin. The start of a hunger that steadily grows.
—which leads them to—
Clothes thrown haphazardly on marble floors, cold liquid trickling down where their bodies are about to connect, sounds that bounce off walls, and the purple-red marks left by the tight grip of hands and nails.
—and then the pace builds up—
The slap of skin on skin, sweat trickling down their backs, heat starting to pool in the pits of their stomachs.
—until they reach the climax; the focal point of every masterpiece—
Whines that turn to whimpers that turn to broken moans. The loud and shaky exhales, the tremors that escape their body, and the white heat that blankets them.
They’ve done this dance before — more than they can count — and yet it still leaves Sunghoon speechless when Sunoo reaches a crescendo.
Hyung.
He never calls Sunghoon that, only ever in bed, only when—
“I’m close,” Sunoo says it like a prayer, like he’s begging for repentance.
“Then go ahead, baby,” He whispers it to the shell of the younger’s ear, teeth grazing his neck until their lips are a breath away, and just before they meet for a kiss—
“Come for me.”
When Sunoo releases, he screams Sunghoon’s name into the older’s mouth. The sound tastes like sin.
When the heat passes, Sunoo falls into Sunghoon’s arms like dead weight. The only sound that could be heard is their heavy breathing.
Sunghoon raises his head up and his eyes land on the mirror in front of him.
His hair is a tangled mess, lips bruised and shining, and his neck bears a constellation of purple and red. He moves to click the remote button again and watches the way Sunoo’s back shakes from the sudden loss.
A smile tugs at the corners of Sunghoon’s lips. He presses a kiss to Sunoo’s shoulder — the fabric of his white button-up all wrinkled from what they’ve done.
This is the only time he takes his hand away from the younger’s thigh. He moves it to Sunoo’s back — rubs soothing circles all over the expanse — and kisses the top of his head comfortingly.
“Are you okay, baby?”
His other hand cups the side of Sunoo’s cheek and lifts his head slowly. He does this every time— a visual confirmation that the younger is in a good state.
Sunoo can only manage to nod, but the expression on his face is one of unadulterated bliss. His lips — as bitten and red as Sunghoon’s — pucker into a pout, seemingly asking for a kiss.
The older laughs but gives in anyway. It’s soft and tender, miles away from the ones they shared minutes ago, and it makes Sunghoon’s heart soar with warmth.
“Do you want to go home?” He continues to run his hands down Sunoo’s back.
Sunoo smiles up at him lazily and nods. Sunghoon places his hands on the younger’s small waist to help him down the counter. His legs seem to have turned to jelly, almost collapsing on the ground if it weren’t for the arms holding him up.
The younger drapes himself around one of Sunghoon’s arms and rests his head on his shoulder. He closes his eyes and tries to let some words out, voice spent and throat scratchy.
“Let’s go home, baby.”
Sunghoon gladly ushers them out of the restroom, relieved that no one else entered this whole time (though he thinks it wouldn’t have stopped his boyfriend anyway).
“I like hearing you scream my name,” He says, inches away from the restroom door, and then, with a smirk on his face, he adds—
“But I like it better when I can taste it.”