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Just on the cusp of midnight, Hao would usually be strolling the rooftops, perching on a vantage point to search for a new find— a harder challenge, such as new diamonds, ruby jewellery sets, or fine china from an archaeological dig— anything to fit his liking. Sometimes he does it for the thrill, other times he does it to fill up his cabinets, already beginning to overflow. It’s far too easy. Even if he isn’t able to indulge in the exorbitant glamour whenever he opens his eyes, he’s able to feast on the pretty price they fetch with buyers. Either way, Hao wins.
However, he’s on a special mission today. Instead of glamorous mansions with their slanted roofs, weekly cleaned tiles and well-maintained gardens, he’s skirting an apartment complex for an opening. He easily navigates the fire exit and pulls himself over the railing of the rusty stairway that protests loudly at the additional weight. His gloves smear remnants of raindrops from the quiet afternoon drizzle. The window ledges have an overhang that allows him to dig the tip of his shoes into, which enables him to steadily cross the apartments until he finds the one he’s looking for. The preceding rain is a pain, especially when he’s balancing precariously on an overhang, left hand finding purchase on whatever groove he can find on the uneven brick walls while he pries a window open. It’s not the worst he’s had to deal with, but nevertheless, it is a hassle.
Hao lands in a bedroom, the only indicator of his presence being the rustle of the fabric curtains as he quietly shifts them aside on the way through. The room is illuminated by a stream of light from the open door, and the lighting reveals the well-maintained state of the room. The bed is recently made, miscellaneous clutter is isolated on the desk, and the office chair is neatly tucked in. Hao is well aware of how his wet shoes are forming puddles on the carpet and had the decency to take them off before quietly padding down the hallway.
The living room is brightened by lamps, golden and warm. There’s an open laptop on the wooden coffee table, a scrunched-up blanket hanging off the couch, stacked with red pillows, an assortment of houseplants splayed out next to the glass sliding door, with off-white curtains pulled aside to reveal the twinkling nighttime scene. The mismatch of beiges and browns, along with random accents of colour, gives the apartment a unique character - its own homely charm that Hao rarely sees in his nighttime excursions.
“You triggered every trip I set.” A voice calls from behind the divider. There’s a muted clink of cutlery being deposited into the sink. “And if you’re arriving uninvited, at least have the decency to close my window.”
There, in a tank top and hoodie, zipped halfway off his shoulders and an unflattering set of grey sweatpants to match, is one of the prettiest men he’s seen. Cast in an ethereal glow from the soft lamps, his skin is painted golden, a juxtaposition to the messily swept pale blonde of his hair. His collarbones and jawline are emphasised, sharp against the gentler sweep of his Cupid’s bow and fluttering eyelashes. He nurses a cup between his hands.
“Hello, Hao.” The man smiles, contradicting the attitude he had given just a brief moment earlier. His cheeks crease into whiskers, eyes crinkling in a way that hides the soft brown of his irises. “Would you like some tea?”
“Forget tea.” Hao snaps. There’s bone-deep mortification from being dressed in protective gear- a mixture of leather, spandex and kevlar- holding onto his puddle-soaked shoes in one hand and his goggles, too tight around his head, while the other gets to be all cozy and warm, without a care in the world. “Where have you been, Hanbin?”
“I have a presentation to finish,” he says after a tentative sip from his cup, seemingly not phased by his tone. Hao snorts in disbelief. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”
“The team put me on timeout.” Hanbin smiles wryly. “They said I looked uglier than the corpse they found last week. Although what are you doing here? Don’t tell me… did you miss me?”
“As if.” Hao sniffs, ignoring the shit-eating grin being sent his way. “I was stalking out my prize of the night. This place was convenient to shelter from the rain.”
Hanbin’s eyes flit to the sliding door, curtains drawn aside to reveal a mosaic of apartment lights. There’s no rain in sight. “Right.” He coughs, voice caught in an odd pitch like he’s trying to hold in a laugh. “Well, since I’m a good citizen, I should really stop you from doing that. Could I persuade you to stay a while for a cup of tea? I'll make one while you close my window. You can even steal some of my clothes.”
Hao acts like he’s considering it. Eventually, after the pause is long enough, he exaggerates a sigh. “Fine,” he says begrudgingly, dragging the syllables like it’s a chore as he pivots on his ankle, pretending he didn’t see Hanbin’s knowing smile. He traces his footsteps back to the bedroom, making quick work of stripping his gear and depositing it in the adjacent bathroom. He spends some time rummaging through Hanbin's wardrobe for an oversized hoodie and a comfy set of sweatpants. It’s muscle memory at this point, given how many times he’s done this before. Once Hao is successfully dry and much more comfortable than he was ten minutes ago, he settles back on the couch, tucking his legs under his knees as he takes a sip of tea from the cup on the coffee table. It’s pleasantly warm. Hanbin emerges from the kitchen a moment later with his own cup, a matching ceramic set.
The situation feels so painfully domestic that words spill from Hao’s lips before they even register in his brain. “You know where I live. Why didn’t you come?” Hao says petulantly, attempting to sound less bothered than he felt. “You made me look like a fool snooping around to see if you were dead.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve only been feeling better the past few days.” Hanbin’s eyes soften, rosy lips pursing in regret. He shuffles forward to set his cup down on the table, and the proximity reveals to Hao a necklace of faded black and blue around his neck, an ugly gradient of green smattering his collarbones, and a ring of indigo blotched around his wrist and trailing up his forearm. Hao barely has enough coherence to slam the cup down, tea spilling onto the wood as he leans forward and tugs at Hanbin’s arm.
“Ah!” Caught between surprise and pain, the noise Hanbin makes is on the cusp of a whimper, and Hao clenches his teeth to ignore the flush it sends low in his stomach. He murmurs a soft apology, rubbing a thumb over the bruises circling his wrist. It’s hard to imagine how bad it must’ve been if the remnants are still prominent against his fair skin after a week. It’s definitely the worst Hao’s ever seen him in the many years they’ve known each other. There’s more— dark, irregular shapes crawling all the way up his forearm, disappearing under his hoodie to peek around his tank top, a faint outline of fingertips around his neck. For someone to hurt one of the toughest heroes in the city this badly… for someone to lay their hands on Hanbin… wrap their fingers around his neck til he’s gasping for breath-
“Who.”
“Hm? Oh, I think it’s one of the new guys on the scene. I caught him at a drug bust. He called himself… Falcon?”
Hao snorts. “You’re getting jumped by a dude named Falcon.”
Hanbin rolls his eyes, “Sorry, next time I’ll ask him for his name before he beats me to next week.”
Now, he promises he’s normally an attentive listener, but there’s a voice in his head that tells him to test his grip, so he does- and the blonde lets out a pretty sound, a quiet breathy gasp that snaps at the inhibitions Hao has been desperately trying to keep at bay. He yanks at Hanbin’s arm with frightening speed, Hanbin slamming his hand against the coffee table to stop him from collapsing chest-first as Hao digs his fingers into his neck to keep him in place while he sinks his teeth into the plush of the hero’s lower lip. The punched out sound it elicits provides the perfect opportunity for him to slide his tongue along Hanbin’s teeth, the remnants of green tea in his mouth. There’s something intoxicating about getting Hanbin so helpless, pinned in place and desperate for breath as Hao explores every crevice, their slick-coated lips vulgar in the quiet of the apartment. Eventually, he decides it’s not enough and pulls away with a loud pop.
“Come here.” Hanbin nods shakily, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips as he stumbles like a fawn over to the couch. When he’s within arm's reach, Hao drags him onto the seat and presses him into the armrest, into another searing kiss, more tongue than mouth. Hanbin's thighs tremble from where they bracket Hao’s hips, feeling the hard press of the elder against his stomach. It’s only when there are teeth sinking into his clavicle, hands splayed over any possible bruise they can find, that Hanbin finally regains some coherence. He pulls at Hao’s hair weakly, desperately trying to catch his attention from where the man is biting a necklace of fresh bruises over the faded ones. “Hyung. Hao hyung. Hao. Ge.”
“Hm?” Teeth sink over his pulse point, and Hanbin hisses, tugging more insistently until he pulls off, with a dark gaze that sends goosebumps over his skin.
“Are we doing it here?” He asks quietly, cheeks burning as his gaze flits to the drawn curtains. The night draws deeper, and with it comes the fluttering of lights as the city falls asleep for the night. He’s terribly self-conscious of the various lamps illuminating his living room, undoubtedly bright in contrast to the rest of his apartment complex. Hao is unfazed at the concept, simply raising an eyebrow as he slides his fingers beneath Hanbin’s waistband and tapping impatiently until he lifts his hips. “Were you expecting other costumed men today?”
“Only you.”
Fuck.
“Fuck.” Hao curses. He's so hard it hurts to think. “Lube?”
In response, Hanbin opens his legs a little wider, a pretty red painting his cheeks. “You haven't seen me all week.” He says like it’s an answer, and maybe it is, because when Hao experimentally brushes a finger against the ring of muscle, it comes back wet. He looks at Hanbin in disbelief. People tend to call him the manipulative one, the con-man who takes advantage of anything he can to gain the upper hand, but it’s clear they haven’t met Hanbin, deceitful and cunning in his own right. He wonders when Hanbin expected him, whether he had been preparing himself for the last few nights without fail, or had waited patiently until today, when Hao became too impatient to wait.
He’ll think about it later, box it away so he can think about more important things like getting his dick into Hanbin, preferably in the next minute. He taps two fingers against his lips, watching as Hanbin widens his mouth without question, gaze half lidded yet trained on Hao as he wraps his tongue around the digits diligently. He thrusts his fingers deeper, knuckles knocking harshly against Hanbin’s top teeth. The blonde chokes, instinctively wrapping a hand around Hao’s wrist before he relaxes, pliant as Hao does whatever he pleases, adding another one, two fingers til he’s got four soaked.
He begins to pull away when he deems them wet enough, and placates Hanbin’s whines with his tongue while he roughly smears his saliva-coated fingers onto his cock, then the excess onto Hanbin’s thigh.
“Okay?” He asks gently as he teases the tip against the ring of muscle. Hanbin nods, shifting his hips to get him deeper. “Please.”
“So polite,” Hao mutters, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh of his hips with an intent to bruise as he finally pushes past the resistance of the rim. Hanbin is so, so warm and so impossibly tight and so, so loud that his neighbours will undoubtedly hear, but Hao doesn’t let him adjust, snapping his hips again and again. Really, it’s hard to remember the concept of self-control when Hanbin feels this inviting, taking his cock like he was made for it, walls spasming with every thrust. Hanbin can barely formulate a sentence with the way his breath is fucked out of him, pleading for him to slow down as Hao attempts to engrave himself both in and on Hanbin’s body.
Believe it or not, Hao wouldn’t consider himself a selfish lover. The satisfaction of his partners in bed rarely fell second to his own, because even know he’s determined and pragmatic to a fault, he wasn’t one to disregard others to achieve his goals, whether that be in his relationships or career. That’s why it’s startling that he’s like this, single-mindedly seeking his own pleasure with no regard to Hanbin. Perhaps because it’s Hanbin, with a hero complex long integrated into his identity before he even became one, who indulges Hao in his selfish whims. Even now, Hanbin is so terribly pliant as he takes it, letting Hao lean forward to sink his teeth down between the junction of his shoulder and neck, mottled blue and yellow as he drives his cock in again and again.
Hanbin’s got an arm around the couch to stop himself from careening off with the force of Hao’s thrusts, which makes the legs of the couch screech across the wooden floor. His other palm is wrapped around Hao’s wrist, weakly trying to pry it off when he gets too rough. The lack of hands means he doesn’t stifle his sounds like he normally would— punched out moans, incoherent protests, and sharp whines that spill from raw bitten lips that are addictive to hear. It’s a drug Hao would willingly take again and again.
When he adjusts to take both of Hanbin’s legs over his shoulders, folding the blonde in half as he grips his hips with an intent to bruise and a thrust so hard the couch scrapes against the wood, Hanbin can barely get a word out before he’s spilling over their stomachs without a warning, warm and sticky. Even then, the rogue is relentless in his pace. He can barely think with the prettiest boy crying from oversensitivity from his cock, with a fresh collar made out of Hao’s teeth and bruises in the shape of Hao’s fingers. It isn’t enough.
He pulls out, maneuvering until he gets Hanbin upright and seated back on Hao’s cock, thigh trembling from where they bracket Hao’s hips. He’s barely coherent, helpless to whatever he’s given, weakly grasping at his shoulders as Hao uses the new angle as an opportunity to suck under Hanbin’s jaw while he forces himself in a little deeper, carving himself a spot inside the hero’s insides so he’ll feel him even when he’s gone.
“You can’t let anyone else do this to you,” Hao says lowly as he pulls off Hanbin’s neck with a wet pop, punctuating his point with another harsh thrust and punching out a moan from Hanbin. He digs his fingernails into the back of his neck, not unlike scruffing a cat, forcing him to open his eyes blearily. “Hanbin.”
“Only you.” He agrees weakly.
Hao drives his hips in with ferocity he didn’t expect from himself and immediately spills into the warmth he’s sheathed around with a quiet groan. Hanbin clenches so tightly around him it’s almost painful, walls spasming with oversensitivity, and it’s difficult to think of anything but the heat of Hanbin, so homely he could stay forever, bracketed by muscled thighs and the warmest body. Sure, Falcon, or whatever their name was, can get their hands on Hanbin, but only Hao will have him like this– doe-eyed and plugged with his cock with tears running down his blotched red cheeks.
Hanbin whimpers when Hao shifts a little to mindlessly collect some of cum pooling around Hanbin’s thighs. The rogue rubs his flank in apology, examining the sheer gleam of it on his fingertips. There’s half a thought formulating in his brain that comes to fruition when the blonde leans forward to weakly lick at it, coating his fingers in saliva as he cleans it off, because if Hao getting all possessive over Hanbin getting bruised wasn’t enough, the latter feeds into it by making sure he gets the former in his mouth too, thoroughly marked inside and out.
“Hanbin,” Hao says breathlessly. His cock, in a moment of weakness, twitches.
“You heathen,” Hanbin rasps with a half-hearted glare, can feel it himself, “what about my presentation?”
Hao snorts and presses Hanbin down against the thoroughly ruined couch. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
(He avoided Hanbin a few days after that night. Hanbin’s pettiness is something even he’s afraid of.)