Chapter Text
words: 4524
jongho is curious.
it’s taken him weeks— no, months— to admit that. after watching san and wooyoung kiss, he’s been unable to get the image out of his head, replaying the scene continuously, raising more questions each time the memory is triggered back to the front of his mind. he finds himself watching the two out of the corner of his eye more often than he’s willing to admit. he can’t place why he’s suddenly interested in them, until it clicks. after hearing the two behind uncomfortably thin walls one unlucky night, he finally recognizes the feeling. it’s not discomfort. it never was. the disgust he’s been expressing at the others’ outward affection is simply a mask to avoid what it really brews inside of him.
“are you going to actually say something, or just keep staring like you always do?” wooyoung comments, not looking up from his phone. jongho stiffens, caught off guard by the sudden directness, and forces himself to look away. wooyoung sighs and places the phone in his lap. “why are you acting so weird lately?”
“i’m not acting weird,” jongho defends, though his quiet and avoidant tone says otherwise. he’s always been one to speak his mind, especially when confronted, and this sudden change in demeanor almost leaves wooyoung with more questions than jongho.
“you’re avoiding me— more than you usually do— but you keep looking at me. jjong, did i do something wrong?”
“…no.”
“you hesitated.” wooyoung stands, approaching the maknae, and isn’t ignorant to how he stiffens, still avoiding eye contact. “if there’s something on your mind, please just tell me, alright? i don’t like all this tension. whatever it is, we can fix this.”
jongho’s eyes dart about the room, ensuring that it’s only the two of them, but somehow the realization makes him sink deeper into his skin. now would be the optimal time to express that curiosity taking over his train of thought, but how to frame it in a way that’s non-offensive, non-confrontational, in a way that wouldn’t jeopardize their relationship, he’s at a loss.
“jjong.”
he blurts it out. “what’s it like to kiss a man?”
wooyoung is silent for a moment, brows furrowed as he attempts to process the sudden, unexpected question. “i, uh… it’s just like kissing a woman. except… it’s a man. i-i don’t… is that why you’ve been so weird lately?”
there’s really no turning back now. “sorry, that was… probably not an appropriate question. i just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and san.”
“o-oh.” wooyoung inhales and presses his lips together. “if it makes you uncomfortable, i can—“
“no. no, it doesn’t. i’m not homophobic or anything, really. you’re cute together.”
“well, that’s good, i guess,” wooyoung chuckles. “then… why’d you bring it up?”
jongho shrugs lazily. “you just seem really confident in your sexuality. i’ve never really given mine much thought.”
“so that’s what this is about.” wooyoung smirks knowingly and takes a seat beside jongho. “you think you might be into guys?”
“w-well, i don’t know. i guess i was wondering how you knew. and… what it’s like.”
wooyoung shrugs as well, though his is with energy. his body language has a teasing nature about it, as if he finds jongho’s apprehension amusing. “i experimented. kissed a couple girls, kissed a couple guys, realized i get more of a rush from guys.”
“and… you just knew? just from that?”
“well, i didn’t know for sure until i did a little more than just kissing. but yeah, most people? they just try it out and see how they feel.”
jongho considers the sentiment for a moment, then finally looks at wooyoung. the smirk tugging at his lips, the glint in his eye, make jongho’s stomach twist into knots. he can’t identify the exact feeling, but he knows the curiosity has never been stronger.
“there’s, uh… e-even if i did want to try it out, there aren’t really any guys that would… you know.”
“hey, i get it. i got really lucky having san around.” he pats jongho’s thigh, grinning at how he tenses up yet again. “just letting you know, we’re not exclusive. no pressure if you’re not up for it, but i’m always here to test the waters.”
“you’re… are you sure?”
“hundred percent.” wooyoung gingerly places his pointer finger beneath jongho’s chin, tilting his face up to look him in the eye more directly. “think you’re up to experiment?”
jongho is stuttering over his words for an embarrassingly long time, and wooyoung makes the choice for him. he slides his hand forward, taking jongho’s cheek fully into his palm as he leans forward; “if it’s too much, or you decide you don’t like it after all, you tell me and we’ll never bring it up again. how does that sound?”
he nods wordlessly and allows the older to close the gap. wooyoung’s lips are soft, and yet somehow simultaneously firm. they’re much larger than his own as jongho shuts his eyes, focused in on the sensation, on how it feels. it’s warm in an almost comforting manner, and he nearly forgets who it is on the other end as he finds himself craving more. he leans in, now holding wooyoung’s face in both of his hands, as wooyoung’s touch falls to his shoulders. the push and pull is gentle, but it’s there, and jongho never fully pulls away.
he finds himself lost in the rhythm as he gently navigates himself into wooyoung’s lap, as if on instinct. it’s been so long since he’s kissed someone, let alone felt any sort of touch on his skin, and any sliver of apprehension is out the window. that is, until wooyoung sighs, and it brings jongho back to reality. recognizing the sound and who it belongs to is second nature, and jongho freezes up again, quickly pulling away.
“i, uh… sorry.”
once again, wooyoung is fighting back a teasing grin. “you seem like you liked it. what do you think?”
“it’s… alright. b-but it’s not the same,” he lies through his teeth, staggering to his feet. “not my thing.”
“alright, if that’s how you feel.” he sees right through him, but accepts the sentiment at face value. he watches jongho exit the room, almost amused by his anxious posture.
a few weeks pass, and the two act as if it had never happened. it’s not as it was before jongho had developed this curiosity; he’s still rather quiet, eyeing wooyoung a noticeable amount, but neither express any recollection of the event, and it’s as if it’s lost to time. wooyoung gives jongho the space to think about it, and jongho takes advantage of that space. but it doesn’t last; night falls, and as the dorm finally recedes into silence, jongho finds himself unable to sleep.
he’s leaned up against the wall and, admittedly, hoping to hear the two lovebirds again. no such sound comes, and jongho remembers san mentioning spending the night out. wooyoung is alone in his room, and jongho won’t get lucky enough to hear anything further than quiet typing and an occasional chuckle as the boy stays up, scrolling through social media. he’s fighting an internal battle with himself, to stay put and go to sleep, but the racing thoughts keep him awake.
his fingers brush over his lips, pressing gently, remembering the fleeting sensation of wooyoung’s against his. he succumbs to the desire and silently drags himself out of bed, every move calculated and cautious to avoid waking anyone else. he doesn’t bother to knock as he tiptoes into the room, his voice at a whisper.
“you’re still up?”
wooyoung turns. “yeah, you okay?”
“i, um…” jongho bites his lip, hands tense at his sides. he shifts awkwardly and shoves them into his pockets. “i was just… thinking about… you know. what we did.”
“oh, i know. you’re not exactly subtle.” wooyoung grins. “but it wasn’t your thing , right?”
if there were any light on in the room, wooyoung would get a satisfied rush from seeing the way heat rises to jongho’s face, his eyes flickering away in embarrassment. but he can see nothing more than his silhouette in the middle of the room. “i-i mean… i don’t think so. i think. you just said it took more than kissing for you to know for sure. s-so i thought… um…”
“use your words,” wooyoung drawls, “come on, jjong. spit it out.”
he must know what he’s doing to him. jongho’s knees nearly buckle under him at the condescending, disrespectful tone, his breath hitching. he forces himself to regulate his breathing, to not allow wooyoung the satisfaction of knowing he might have been right.
“i was just wondering if you wanted to try something else.”
“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re asking for, little bear.”
“i, uh… i-i just thought… you know, if you wanted to…”
“come on…” he chuckles, reaching a hand out to gesture jongho to the bed. “spit it out.”
jongho shakily approaches the bed, and he’s left wondering why he’s so responsive and obedient out of nowhere. usually, his relationship with wooyoung is similar to siblings; that teasing disrespect, love-hate, refusal to listen or show affection. but now, he’s willing to follow every command without a second thought.
his voice is hushed, nothing more than a breath. “i want you to touch me.”
“aw, good boy,” wooyoung coos, blindly reaching for jongho’s waist in the dark and guiding him onto the bed. jongho stumbles forward, nearly falling, as he struggles to accurately dictate the distance to the mattress and avoid kneeing wooyoung in the process. this position, so similar to the last time, leaves him nervous, shaking, full of fear and doubt. he, the only completely straight member, is now straddling one of his best friends, their faces close enough to feel one another’s breath.
“where do you want me to touch you, exactly?” wooyoung teases, allowing his hands to ghost along jongho’s frame. he never applies enough pressure, wanting to leave jongho craving more. but as his hands brush up his chest, jongho inhales sharply, instinctively jolting away.
wooyoung is quick to apologize and relocate his hands, but the reaction is misunderstood. shakily, jongho takes his wrists and places them back. “n-no, it’s… it’s good.”
“so that’s why you never let us touch your chest… it’s sensitive, isn’t it?”
wooyoung’s hands grip at jongho’s ribs, his thumbs pressing gently against his nipples, and jongho has to grit his teeth to stay composed. “y… yeah.”
his hands continue to work slowly, gingerly, as jongho cautiously leans forward to connect their lips. it feels just as natural as it did last time, allowing him to easily fade into the contact, his anxiety slipping away. it feels so foreign, so wrong, but the satisfaction outweighs the negative feelings until jongho is nearly unaware that he’s at the mercy of a man. all that matters is that this man knows exactly where to touch him and how to kiss him. all that matters is that he’s anticipating the emotional release he’s been craving for ages.
it’s when wooyoung’s hands slip beneath the fabric of jongho’s shirt that his shame really starts to deplete. his teeth close over wooyoung’s bottom lip, hot breath fanning over his skin, and he’s hardly aware that he’s rocking back and forth in his lap.
he’s so easy.
or maybe he just really is that pent up.
wooyoung smirks smugly as he slowly allows his right hand to glide down jongho’s torso, stopping at his waistband. he fingers at the hem, sensitive to any cues that jongho is uncomfortable, and there’s nothing. in fact, he moves closer, and wooyoung takes it as a sign to slip beneath the fabric. jongho isn’t wearing anything beneath his shorts, allowing for wooyoung’s touch to be direct immediately, and it’s now that he reacts. jongho’s hands tangle themselves in wooyoung’s hair as he bites down on his lip.
“you’re so cute,” he chuckles. he shies away from the kiss, instead his lips travelling across his chin, jaw, and down his neck. “you were so nervous. now look at you, can’t even sit still.”
jongho shudders, stilling his hips. “sorry.”
“i didn’t tell you to stop.”
“o-oh.” he nervously picks his pace back up again, allowing wooyoung’s hand to slide over his shaft in a steady, enticing rhythm. it’s so much more tantalizing when it’s someone else; he’s never felt so good from something so simple on his own, and he can’t help but crave more.
“how do, um…” he shudders out, “how does… how does sex work? what do you and san do?”
“well…” wooyoung chuckles, his mouth pressed against the shell of jongho’s ear, “i get on my hands and knees… he slathers his hands in lube, pushes his fingers inside me… it’s so cold and intrusive at first. but then i relax more and more every time i breathe out, until he’s fucking me with his hand… and god ,” he hisses, “there’s this spot he always finds so easily, that always has me screaming his name. then i’m so open and ready for him, and he lays on his back… pulls me in his lap… i bounce on his cock until he fills me to the brim. he feels so big, and… his cum drips out of me, and i feel so full and so satisfied…”
jongho shudders at the obscene imagery. as wooyoung continues to describe their experiences in graphic detail, it’s as if jongho can feel it. he can imagine what it would be like to ride san, or anyone, really — he’s trying to grasp onto that idea of being full, satisfied. of that spot that wooyoung recounts, the sights and sounds. he’s grinding down over wooyoung’s growing bulge, attempting to mimic the foreign sensation.
wooyoung grins. his hand slowly brushes along the underside of jongho’s shaft, the heel of his palm pressing against his balls, until his fingertips find their way against his rim, and jongho inhales sharply. he’s leaning back, trying to push wooyoung in, but the boy offers nothing more than a gentle, non invasive massage.
“it’ll hurt like hell without enough lube,” he reminds, “i wouldn’t want to hurt such a beautiful boy on his first time.”
“where’s the lube,” jongho breathes. wooyoung tilts his head back so that he’s peering at him down his nose, eyes resting on his lips. he reaches behind his head and withdraws a small bottle from beneath the pillow.
“we always fuck in my bed,” he grins, flicking the bottle open. “how does it feel to know he’s rearranged my guts on several occasions, right where you’re sitting?”
jongho doesn’t respond. his breathing is labored as he watches wooyoung’s hands move tentatively, fingers swirling together to warm up the liquid to avoid the uncomfortable temperature shock. his fingers become slick, coated, reflecting the little moonlight dancing through the mostly shut curtains. it’s tantalizing to watch, so much so that jongho almost feels lost as wooyoung’s hands retreat out of view. but the feeling of desire is quickly fulfilled once again as the touch returns to his hole. this time, wooyoung gently presses inside, and jongho feels himself tense and stretch around his finger.
“shhh…” he coos, pulling jongho forward to lay against his chest. his free hand gently pets his hair in an attempt to soothe him. “relax. it’ll feel so much better when you do.”
he’s betting on it. right now, it feels foreign, invasive, somewhat uncomfortable, as his body attempts to reason with the new sensation. it’s confusing, and it feels wrong, but it’s somehow still so enticing. each gentle thrust is ever so slightly deeper than the last until wooyoung has pushed in all he has to offer. the moment jongho has completely relaxed around him, he pulls out, only to force in a second finger.
jongho groans at the stretch, his teeth gritted tensely. quiet huffs of discomfort leave his chest rhythmically.
“you’re doing so well… you just tell me if it starts to hurt, baby.”
“mhm. i-it doesn’t.”
“you know,” he whispers, “sometimes san hurts me on purpose. sometimes he doesn’t even bother to warm me up. he loves making me cry. but you… you’re so sensitive. so fragile. so vulnerable for the first time. i would absolutely hate to see you hurting.”
“i’m not…” jongho sharply huffs through his nose in protest. “i’m not fragile.”
“is that so?” with little warning, wooyoung pulls his two fingers out, only to slam three in at a vigorous and sudden pace. an audible sound leaves jongho’s chest this time as he cries out uncontrollably, jolting forward and shoving his face into wooyoung’s shirt in any attempt to be silent, but he reacts too slowly. if anyone else is awake, they surely heard that.
“sh-shit,” he stutters, his hips shaking. “shit, i need a second.”
“that’s your prostate, baby,” wooyoung smirks, allowing his movements to slow considerably, nearly to an undetectably lethargic speed. “you feel okay?”
jongho’s voice is shaky as he attempts to recuperate. “yeah. yeah, i’m okay. you can keep going.”
“good boy.”
“d-don’t call me that,” jongho grits. “i’m hardly hanging on as it is.”
“aww, you like praise, don’t you?” wooyoung teases, his hand returning to jongho’s neglected but craving chest. “you’re always so distant, so defensive… but you secretly just want to be my good boy, don’t you?”
jongho catches him halfway through a hum of agreement and quickly swallows the sound. any shred of dignity he has left, he has to clasp onto. he’s already embarrassing himself enough by riding wooyoung’s hand, and he can’t let himself further jeopardize this cold image he’s worked so hard to build.
but the things it’s doing to his head… there’s too much distance between their bodies. wooyoung’s arm, swiveled beneath his weight, is in the way, he needs it gone. he needs something else. his hands close around wooyoung’s boxers in a silent request to see them on the floor. wooyoung chuckles as he complies, struggling to kick them off with his hand still occupied.
“you want to ride me, baby?” he teases. “want to bounce in my lap until you can’t hold it anymore?”
“y— i-i, um…” he’s fighting with himself. he can’t fold completely, not now. “if y-you want that. i’m just doing what you w… ah… w-what you want.”
wooyoung’s voice drops to a low growl. “use your words. tell me what you want, or you get nothing.”
he takes in a stuttering breath. “…f-fine. yeah. i want to ride you. j-just to know if i like it.”
“oh, i already know you will.”
wooyoung pours a generous amount of lube over his cock, which, admittedly, has grown rock hard just watching jongho. he lines it up alongside his fingers, the opposite movements not leaving him empty for a moment.
“oh, fuck,” jongho grumbles, completely unprepared for wooyoung’s size. it’s not that he’s big — in fact, he’s a little on the small side — but it’s still a considerable stretch compared to his fingers, and wooyoung gives him a moment to just be still and adjust. he takes in the stretch, every minute movement his body makes betraying him. he’s so tight, and the smallest twitch leaves wooyoung’s cock head teasing against his prostate.
“okay?”
jongho’s head is spinning. he’s struggling to breathe against the strain. he’s never felt anything like this and can’t make sense of all the signals mixing in his foggy mind. “y-yeah. i think s-so.”
“okay if i start moving?”
“please.” his voice is no more than a strained whisper, and wooyoung can’t help but swoon. he’s so lost, so confused, unable to determine how he feels, relying on wooyoung to take the lead. once so bold and independent, now at his every command. and chances are, he’ll deny it all in the morning, as if nothing ever happened.
he slowly, cautiously, guides jongho’s hips, lifting and sinking him over his cock in a painstakingly leisurely manner, as if time doesn’t exist. there’s no rush for orgasm, simply soaking in every bit of pain and pleasure they both derive from the position. it’s so deep, it’s so invasive, and jongho’s legs turn to jelly beneath him. if it weren’t for wooyoung supporting his weight, he’d surely have fallen forward by now.
so wooyoung gives him that grace. he gently pushes him onto his side, climbing on top of him, reversing their positions without ever pulling out. as jongho’s back rests against the mattress, he can finally breathe, letting his head fall back and lull to the side.
“isn’t that more comfortable?” wooyoung teases. he lifts jongho’s legs, challenging the limits of his flexibility, and the angle… jongho’s eyes really do roll back this time, a shiver rolling up his spine. he inhales sharply as his body falls limp for a moment, hands lazily grabbing for anything they can reach. they settle in wooyoung’s hair, and jongho pulls him in to satiate another kiss.
“harder,” he mumbles into his mouth. “please.”
“hm…” wooyoung pretends to weigh his options, despite having no intention to comply. he’s going to take his sweet time, let jongho’s orgasm chase him for as long as he can make it, force it to wash over him so gently yet so intensely. he grins, leaning further forward until his breath is tickling the inside of jongho’s ear. “i don’t want to hurt you, little bear. you’ll have to just be patient.”
other than his shaky breathing pattern and the occasional quiet hum when wooyoung gives the perfect thrust, jongho is surprisingly silent. rather than his pleasure being audible, like wooyoung’s tends to be, it’s visual. his brows are sewn together, his expression tense, muscles taught, and his hands hold a death grip in wooyoung’s hair. it hurts, but it’s the bit of affirmation he’s craving to know that he’s doing a good job.
he’s never topped before, but he’s not about to admit that.
the pleasure, for wooyoung, is so direct. it’s a war with himself to suppress his orgasm, to not cum too quickly, to not overwhelm jongho too soon. but the pressure is building up, the self control becoming harder to maintain. wooyoung, known by everyone — likely neighbors too — for being obscenely loud underneath san, is fighting so hard to stay quiet and composed, that he’s hardly able to breathe. this is why san never lets him top; he can’t imagine ever going back. not when jongho’s weight around him is so tight, so hot, so heavy. it’s as if his body is begging for him to fill it up.
wooyoung tenses. he forgot to grab a condom. the cleanup won’t be subtle, nor will it be easy, but he can’t risk stopping now. not when jongho is finally so relaxed, so shameless and open. something he’ll likely never get again, astounded by the miracle of even receiving it in the first place.
the anxiety it instills in him is a double edged sword, only turning him on further. and jongho can feel it, too, even if ignorant to the reason; he clenches further around wooyoung’s sudden tenseness, his breathing growing more obstructed and labored as well.
without thinking, jongho wraps his legs around wooyoung’s back, only pushing him in deeper and limiting his ability to pull away. each move thuds against his prostate, his head spinning, stars clouding his blackening vision. if he could speak, make any sound at all, he’d be begging, but nothing more than strangled gasps escapes his throat. his nails dig into wooyoung’s skin and he turns his head to bury his face in the pillow.
he’s so close. he’s so, so close. his body spasms at every touch as it climbs, preparing to reach the high approaching him so quickly. the involuntary movement is too much for wooyoung, and he’s spilling over the edge, slapping a hand over his mouth to avoid crying out in pleasure. as he fills jongho’s hole with heavy spurts of cum, it further tightens the available space, applying further pressure on every last nerve, until jongho can’t handle it either.
his nails dig deep enough to draw blood as he finally gives wooyoung what he’s been silently begging for: a desperate, audible sound. a heavy moan wracks through his body as he lurches forward, his cock twitching angrily against his stomach, spilling the contents of his balls all over the two of their bodies.
he doesn’t let wooyoung slow down. not now, not when his head is so far in the clouds. he rocks back onto him, fucking himself on wooyoung’s cock, using him like a toy. the bed shifts quietly against the wall with every push and pull, until jongho is far too exhausted to continue. he lets his muscles fall weak against the bed, panting heavily. his eyes are half lidded, struggling to open, struggling to look wooyoung in the eye. if he could, he would only fold in on himself anyway.
“holy shit, jongho,” wooyoung pants in return. he falls back onto the mattress, slowly sliding out on his way down. “holy shit.”
jongho is dazed, his energy depleted, as hormones continue to run wild among his psyche. he’s never felt more relaxed, less grounded before. the world is slipping away around him and nothing is real anymore. nothing exists except the warmth of wooyoung’s skin brushing up against him and the sound of his heavy breathing.
wooyoung notices the lack of response. “you okay?”
“uh-huh.”
“did you like it?”
jongho gulps, this time his sound of approval muffled through pressed lips and clenched teeth. he needs water. that’s the only thought on his mind; his throat is uncomfortably dry. wooyoung smiles wearily, brushing jongho’s hair out of his face as he presses a gentle kiss to his lips before pushing himself back up.
“just relax. i’ll get you cleaned up.”
“yeah.”
the last thing wooyoung expects to see as he staggers to his feet is san, sat poise on the opposite bed, watching the two of them with an inquisitive expression. wooyoung’s breath catches in his throat.
“how… how long have you been watching?”
jongho bolts upright as san uncrosses his legs.
“i heard you say my name so i came in. saw this… decided i wanted to see the whole performance. never thought it would be… jongho… you were dirty talking.”
panicked inhales begin to wrack jongho’s chest. “please don’t tell anyone.”
“who, me?” he laughs teasingly. “of course i won’t, baby... well, as long as i get a turn. eventually.”
wooyoung turns back to jongho, threading a relaxing touch through his hair. “is that okay?”
“give me some time,” he pants, “i-i’ll think about it.”
“it’s going to be a yes, isn’t it?” wooyoung lowers his voice, his eyes narrowed in a playful, lustful manner, with no sense of pressure or urgency. “you should have seen yourself, little bear.”
“don’t keep your hopes up,” jongho retorts a sudden cold snap to his voice, but it’s empty. it’s clear in his, rather unserious tone, that he will be back for more, sooner or later.