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They’re doing a mukbang V-live, eating bowls of warm manduguk and talking about their upcoming comeback. Jeongin has been quiet, seated towards the end of the table in between Seungmin and Changbin, tired from practice and if he’s being honest, a little on edge, the warm press of Seungmin’s shoulder against his just distracting enough to steal his focus. He’s dressed comfortable, in sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt, nothing special, but Jeongin recognizes it as the one he wore two nights ago, when he was tired and a little grumpy and Jeongin had tried extra hard, with lots of tongue and head bobbing and looking up through his eyelashes, to give him a blowjob that would make him forget everything else.
He isn’t paying much attention, the other members chatting amongst themselves about the “new image” they were showing in their comeback (they always say this, but Jeongin thinks they look pretty much the same no matter what fancy clothes the stylists put them in.) No one is paying much mind to him either, until his elbow bumps into Seungmin’s soup bowl, sending broth splashing onto the table.
It earns a couple laughs from his hyungs, and he feels his cheeks pink up as he laughs along, sopping up what he can with his napkin. “Sorry, hyung,” he says sheepishly, and Seungmin turns to face him, feigning annoyance.
“Yah, Innie is so clumsy. Our maknae really can’t do anything by himself,” he teases, getting a couple more chuckles from the rest of the group. It gets a little quiet, clearly waiting for Jeongin’s reaction to such an embarrassing comment.
He feels a flush creep up his neck, frozen silent as Seungmin watches him, an eyebrow twitching upward in amusement. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, blood rushing to his head, mind replaying Seungmin’s words over and over, how much of a baby, how useless he is.
Jeongin realizes with a panic that he’s hard.
The group moves on, turning their attention to reading some comments, but Jeongin is paying even less attention to before, hyper-aware of the hand Seungmin slipped under the table, resting on the top of his thigh, soft fingers grazing the denim, friction barely there on his skin.
He sneaks a glance to the side, but Seungmin isn’t looking at him, is nodding along with the conversation and jumping in every now and then, his warm fingertips pressing into the inseam of Jeongin’s jeans.
Heat flashes in little sparks in his gut every time Seungmin shifts his hand, unyielding in its grip. Jeongin barely notices as the rest of them finish the live, cleaning up the containers of soup. Seungmin carefully takes Jeongin’s half-full bowl and packs up the leftovers before someone else can notice and make a fuss about him not eating enough. The rest of the group is getting ready to go home, packing up backpacks and donning jackets and hats, and Jeongin realizes with a slow wave of nausea that he can’t get up from the table without everyone seeing his problem.
“Yah, Innie, wanna stay back and work on the bridge part?” Seungmin asks nonchalantly, loud enough for the rest of the group to hear. It takes Jeongin a few seconds to realize he’s supposed to answer.
“Oh, yeah. Sure,” he says, proud that his voice only wavers the tiniest bit.
Chan frowns, zipping up his bag. “Don’t stay up too late. We need to be back here at seven tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah,” Minho chimes in, fixing the pair with a vicious stare. “Especially when you two have already had so much trouble sleeping.”
Chan looks concerned for a moment, as if he’s about to stick around to lecture them on taking care of their health again, but luckily, Felix distracts him with something on his phone and the two trail out the door, calling out see you soons and don’t work too hard.
And then suddenly the room is far too empty, Jeongin stuck to his seat under the long table and Seungmin clearing off food and trash from the surface. Jeongin clears his throat.
“You wanted to work on something, hyung?”
Seungmin’s eyebrows shoot up, one corner of his mouth tilting up. “No, Jeongin, I don’t want to practice.”
“Oh,” is all Jeongin can say.
Seungmin stops for a moment, straightening up and fixing Jeongin with an incredulous stare. “Are you trying to say that you’re not hard right now?”
The sound that comes out of Jeongin’s mouth is embarrassingly high and strangled, but Seungmin just grins at his slowly flushing face. “I’m sorry, hyung.”
“Don’t be,” he says, sliding onto the bench next to him. “It’s cute.”
Jeongin gulps, eyes trained on Seungmin’s grey sweatshirt. He thinks if he looks at his face he might combust on the spot.
“Let me take care of you, Innie,” he hears Seungmin say, and before he realizes what he’s doing, Jeongin’s sitting on the floor, a sharp intake of breath coming from above. “Innie?”
Jeongin whines then, knees stinging from the impact of sliding off his seat. He lifts his hands, second away from placing them on Seungmin’s knees before he comes to his senses and they fall back into his lap. “I’m sorry,” he says instinctually again, the inscrutable look that passes over Seungmin’s face twisting his stomach into a knot.
“Stop apologizing,” he replies, a note of softness in his voice. “Do you wanna suck me off?”
Jeongin nods, eyes closing in shame, relief flooding his veins that the older boy decided to take pity, and not, as he usually does, tease Jeongin until he admits to exactly what he wants.
Seungmin shifts in his seat, enough to pull his sweatpants down over his erection, and Jeongin tries not to keen, desperately trying to remember when he had stopped wanting Seungmin to get him off and started wanting Seungmin.
The practice room they were streaming in feels unbelievably exposed, Jeongin’s vulnerable position on the floor making his head spin. He has to put his hands on Seungmin’s thighs to lean forward and reach his dick, the muscle hard and hot underneath his fingertips. A bead of precome drips from the head of his cock and Jeongin ducks his head to kiss it away, lips pursed around the sensitive tip. Seungmin’s thighs shake when he eases his way down, lips tight around the unyielding shaft.
Jeongin can’t suppress the moan that escapes his throat. If the fractured groan that bubbles up from Seungmin’s lips is any indication, the vibrations don’t feel bad either.
It doesn’t really make sense, for this to feel as good as it does, when the only friction on his own dick is his own heel digging gently into his crotch, when he can hear the occasional set of footsteps heading down the hallway outside, mere feet away. And yet, Jeongin thinks he would choose this over receiving a hand job any day. Seungmin, he thinks, has totally ruined him.
The hot weight of Seungmin’s cock on his tongue is obscene, the stretch of his lips around the shaft making him imagine with a blush what he must look like, like this. What his hyung must see when he looks down, little Innie choking on his cock.
The thought spurs Jeongin on, head hitching down to take more of Seungmin in his mouth, the tiniest cough coming when the head hits the back of his throat. Seungmin moans, low and guttural, and Jeongin peeks up at him, at his hands balled awkwardly at his sides.
He pulls off before he loses courage, sitting back a little on his haunches, but the way Seungmin cracks open an eye to stare at him, as if asking why Jeongin stopped, makes his stomach swoop and the words crumple in his throat.
“Yes?” Seungmin asks impatiently.
“Um,” Jeongin says lamely, finding it difficult all of a sudden to look the other boy in the eye. “You can touch me, you know.”
It’s Seungmin’s turn to look embarrassed, cheeks flushed. It takes him more than a few seconds to collect himself.
“What?”
“Like,” Jeongin makes a little frustrated sound. Why was this so hard? “If you want to hold my head or my shoulders or something. That’s okay.”
Seungmin fixes him with a blank look, and Jeongin is just about to tell him to forget it when he sees Seungmin’s fist uncurling at his side, hesitantly lifting to card through Jeongin’s hair. His chest shakes a little when he exhales.
Jeongin leans into the touch a little before ducking his head back down, swirling his tongue around the slit of his cock. The weight of his hyung’s fingers on his scalp travels through his skin like an electric shock, eliciting a shiver. It’s so intimate, Seungmin had played with his hair so many times, watching a movie or relaxing on the couch, and yet it feels dirtier than the blowjob, viscerally sexual, extraneous, borne not from convenience but from lust.
Seungmin isn’t saying anything, it isn’t like how Jeongin can hear Minho and Jisung gently whispering to each other in the dark, but his fingers tighten when Jeongin sinks down further, hollowing his cheeks and nudging himself forward. It’s better, somehow, like this, better than the previous times, where Seungmin looked like he was holding back so hard he might snap. Jeongin doubles his efforts, a burning in his gut settling as he tries to swallow around the head of Seungmin’s cock, choking out a wet cough.
When he looks up, Seungmin is watching, lips parted and gaze dark until his lidded eyes. And it’s not quite what Jeongin wants, but that idea, too, makes his stomach heat up in shame, cock twitching in his boxers.
“You’re doing good, Jeongin,” he says, words a little forced, as if he could read Jeongin’s mind, but Jeongin melts into the praise anyway, barely conscious of how Seungmin now has both his hands resting near the base of his skull.
When Seungmin tugs his head forward, it’s hesitant, slow, but it still sends the head of his cock inching down Jeongin’s throat.
Realistically, Jeongin knows that his hyung is trying to make sure he’s okay. That this is okay. He’s giving Jeongin an out.
Jeongin has never wanted an out less in his life.
An embarrassingly loud groan tears from his throat, already scratchy from his own carelessness, and Seungmin exhales, a shaky breath, before gripping Jeongin’s hair with more force, and pulling his head down until his lips wrap around the base of his cock. Jeongin nearly blacks out, the throbbing in his pants and the heat of Seungmin against his tongue and the pinpricks of pain itching at his scalp and the lack of oxygen to his brain too much in the best possible way.
He forces his eyes open when Seungmin starts building a rhythm, tugging Jeongin back and forth along his length, slowly. It’s that look he loves so much, when Seungmin’s eyebrows wrinkle in the middle and his mouth falls open, mouthing silent words. A trail of spit leaks out the corner of Jeongin’s mouth and Seungmin immediately moves to wipe it away haltingly, as if he surprised himself.
“You look so pretty like this, Innie. You’re doing such a good job.”
He tugs at the hair at the base of Jeongin’s skull, pulling him off his cock to take a few gasping breaths. Jeongin feels his eyes screw shut, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes at the praise and the discomfort, the boiling hot humiliation of gagging on his hyung’s dick.
Seungmin’s grip turns soft in his hair, petting down the back of his neck. “You okay?” Through the careful evenness of his voice Jeongin detects a note of worry, and he pries his eyes open, to gaze up at him, eyebrows pinched and chest heaving, the physical evidence of how good Jeongin is making him feel sending a new streak of heat through this veins.
“I’m okay. Harder, hyung?”
Seungmin mutters a curse, nails digging into his scalp as he leads Jeongin’s face back towards his dripping member. “Jesus, I still don’t know how you can’t talk like that.”
Jeongin answers by wrapping his lips around the swollen tip of his cock, running his tongue over the slit before stilling, waiting for Seungmin to tug his head all the way back down.
The pressure doesn’t come, and before he can register the movement Seungmin’s hips kick up off the seat, shaft sliding deliciously between Jeongin’s lips, head hitting him square in the back of the throat.
If the choked gag that's muffled in his mouth isn’t embarrassing, the moan that vibrates around the dick in his throat certainly is.
Seungmin’s groan sounds distant in his ears, the buzz of arousal deafening. Jeongin’s throat constricts as he thrusts up again, shaking gasps falling from his lips, mouth open and eyes more desperate than Jeongin has ever seen them.
He lets his eyes fall shut, one hand pressing into the bulge in his jeans, Seungmin hitting a steady rhythm. He’s still sputtering, can only imagine how gross and spit-slick his entire face is by now, but it just adds gasoline to the fire in his gut, humiliation and shame licking up his insides.
As if Seungmin can hear his thoughts, his grip tightens painfully in Jeongin’s hair. “Aw, Innie, taking dick is a little harder than it looks, huh?” The next thrust is particularly hard, and Jeongin coughs violently, vision blurring a little. “You’ll get there, baby, just takes some practice,” Seungmin coos, voice entirely dripping in condescension.
Jeongin presses his palm down into his crotch so hard little spots of black fleck at the edges of his vision, but he can’t stop the surge of pleasure burning through his skin, a white ringing in his ears.
Seungmin tuts lowly, but Jeongin can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His thrusts stop suddenly, and Jeongin whines, lips still wrapped halfway down his shaft. “What is it Innie? Can’t even choke on a cock without hyung’s help?” His voice is dangerous, taunting, and something in Jeongin’s gut snaps, and he’s moaning, falling further down onto Seungmin’s dick as his orgasm courses through him, hands shaking and slipping off of his thighs.
Seungmin laughs. “That’s so cute, baby. Gonna pay hyung back now, let him fill up your throat?”
Jeongin lurches forward, gagging again around the head of his cock, but Seungmin only hisses. He’s close, Jeongin can tell, from the tight pinch of his eyebrows and the slight downturn of his lips. He bobs his head down again, drool slipping out from his lips as he splutters. He swallows as best he can, lightheaded and boneless after his orgasm, and before he can register Seungmin’s whispered warnings, hot liquid is filling his throat, salty and bitter and Jeongin nearly comes a second time. He tries to retreat, but Seungmin’s hand comes back to cup the back of his skull, breathing shallowly as his orgasm abates, his length twitching on Jeongin’s tongue.
Jeongin isn’t sure what possesses him in that moment, when he finally draws back with his face slick with spit and his eyes tearful and half closed, to open his mouth, displaying the thick pool of come on his tongue before swallowing it down, but he doesn’t miss the way Seungmin’s breath stops entirely, a wheezing gasp escaping his lungs.
“Jesus, Innie, what the fuck,” he breaths, sounding pained, and when Jeongin opens his eyes fully Seungmin is looking at him with equal parts disbelief and awe. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”
Jeongin shrugs, a red blush burning up his neck and cheeks. “Sorry, hyung,” he apologizes quietly, the shame returning in full force.
Seungmin shakes his head incredulously. “Stop apologizing, I swear to god I thought I was gonna come a second time.” His lips shape into a breathless smile. “You did good, Innie.”
Jeongin can’t help how his cheeks flush at the praise, chest warming up again, not trusting himself to reply.
“We could’ve gotten caught, hyung,” he complains instead, and Seungmin glances at the door, looking sheepish.
“Ah, yeah. Not my best plan, I suppose.”
Jeongin giggles, coughing through the slight rasp in his voice. Lucky he had said he and Seungmin had been practicing, so he wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse for the roughness in his voice.
“Let’s do that again sometime.”
The way Seungmin smiles at him, his Seungmin, soft, with his eyes full of mischief, makes Jeongin’s heart warm.
“Yeah, let’s.”