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Jooyeon has a problem. Perhaps more accurately five problems, if one were to be pedantic about it. The main problem comes to light in the shape of a hand, fingers long and slim, knuckles knobby, black nail polish chipped. For the longest time, Jooyeon has been capable of dealing with this problem without incident. He's proud of his own resolve, that he has managed to pack anything remotely untoward into a compact box and stowed it away in the deep, dark outskirts of his mind where it belongs. Conceal, don't feel. Or whatever.
But then…
Then Hyeongjun had decided to go and get his fucking fingers tattooed. The line art is simple and delicate, just as pretty as his fingers are, suits him perfectly. He had come back from the appointment and showed off his newly acquired tattoos with the corners of his lips curled up in a cute, pleased smile, and they had all ooh’ed and ah’ed about it, and Jooyeon had tried his best to do the same with an appropriate amount of enthusiasm while actively fighting not to have a meltdown on the spot. The compact box in Jooyeon’s mind had been almost violently shredded to pieces from within. He had realized, then, with the kind of clarity that accompanies finally coming to terms with your own emotions that neither concealing nor not feeling was going to work out for him in the long run.
“You're staring.”
Jooyeon blinks. Becomes aware that he maybe sort of hasn't blinked for a while when his eyes start to sting from it. “Hm?”
Hyeongjun’s phone moves to the side and his face appears instead, looking down at where Jooyeon is resting his head in his lap. “You're staring,” Hyeongjun repeats, tone mild. Jooyeon can't even say anything to defend himself. He definitely was staring. There had been no ulterior motives when he had first cuddled up to Hyeongjun on the couch – nothing other than the usual plea for affection, at least – but then he had looked up and seen Hyeongjun's fucking hands, fingers curled around his phone, and Jooyeon just… kind of couldn't look away.
“No,” Jooyeon says smartly. Maybe if he comes across as petulant enough about it, Hyeongjun will be convinced.
“Okay,” Hyeongjun says, sounding very much unconvinced. He pokes Jooyeon in the forehead, right between the eyebrows, the spot that always creases when he's frowning. Jooyeon does his best to smooth out that crease, features molded easily under Hyeongjun's touch. Hyeongjun turns his attention back to his phone again, and Jooyeon tries to breathe a normal, adequate amount.
Hyeongjun's hands shift their hold. Fingers change position, fold over each other in a different manner. The tattooed hand comes into clear view. Jooyeon swallows. He's staring again, and he needs to stop doing it lest he incriminate himself. He looks past Hyeongjun's hands to regard what little of his face is visible from this position. The downturned corner of his eye crinkled just so. The barely-there curl of his lips, that expression he makes when he's trying to suppress a smile. Except instead of cute and pleased, it looks more smug. A smirk. The audacity. Jooyeon exhales a huff through his nose, and his eyebrows jump in inquiry. “What?”
“Still staring,” Hyeongjun says. He swipes at the screen of his phone, hand flexing with the motion of his thumb. Jooyeon presses his lips together hard enough to taste iron. Hyeongjun doesn't say anything else. He just fucking sits there like he isn't the leading cause of Jooyeon’s heart palpitations on a daily basis. When Jooyeon presses a hand to his own chest, he can feel the heavy thump against his palm, reminiscent of the kick of a bass drum, as if his heart is attempting to burst out straight through his sternum. Hyeongjun shifts his leg slightly to jostle Jooyeon back to attention. “Come on. Use your words. You're usually good at that.” The edges of his lips twitch, his smile growing more obvious, though not unkind. Jooyeon feels like he's going insane. He should look away. He should look away. He needs to look away so he doesn't do or say something stupid such as–
“I can't stop thinking about having your fingers in my mouth.”
Hyeongjun nearly drops his phone directly onto Jooyeon's face. He manages to save it from falling at the last second but chooses to set it aside nonetheless. “Oh,” Hyeongjun says after a breathless moment, voice not giving anything away. Finally, Jooyeon is able to stop staring as he seeks refuge in the shelter of his palms. Perhaps actually having the phone dropped on his face would've been preferable. He could have hoped to be knocked unconscious instead of having to own up to whatever the fuck he just said.
“Shit,” Jooyeon mumbles. His face feels uncharacteristically hot. He's not the type to fucking blush, yet there he goes. He lets out a weak chuckle. “Nevermind. I'm tired, I don't even know what I'm saying.” Hyeongjun remains silent. Usually Jooyeon doesn't mind that silence. Usually it's pleasant. Easy. Familiar. Lived-in. The kind of silence that exists between two people who have grown exceedingly comfortable in each other's presence, who are capable of sitting in it rather than feeling the need to break it somehow. Right now, however, Jooyeon feels anything but comfortable. Hyeongjun still isn't fucking speaking, which only makes everything worse. Shaky, Jooyeon sits upright on the couch. He feels a bit like he’s going to throw up. “W-well, I should probably go… go to bed, I need–” He cuts off abruptly when he finally manages to make himself look at Hyeongjun again. He has turned his body towards Jooyeon, and he's holding out his hand. In offering? As a joke? Trying to see if Jooyeon is bluffing? Jooyeon’s throat feels like sandpaper when he gulps. “Jun…”
“Okay,” Hyeongjun says. He pulls his shoulders up to his ears like attempting a shrug, but the way he keeps them tensely raised belies his nonchalance, and when Jooyeon takes his proffered hand into his own, he can feel it trembling the slightest bit. Jooyeon lets out a long, slow breath through his nose. He spends a moment regarding Hyeongjun’s face. The dusting of pink across his cheeks, the way he’s chewing anxiously on the inside of his bottom lip, the way he seems to be looking anywhere other than into Jooyeon’s eyes. At least until Jooyeon gives his hand a squeeze. Then, Hyeongjun finally meets his gaze. Jooyeon tries to wordlessly convey everything he wants to say because he doesn’t trust his voice to cooperate right now. It seems to be enough to convince Hyeongjun, anyway. He nods, and he sounds much more certain when he repeats: “Okay.”
Jooyeon starts by kissing the back of Hyeongjun’s hand. A brush of his lips more than anything, just to feel things out. The first contact has Hyeongjun breathing in sharply, but he doesn't seem intent on pulling away, so Jooyeon keeps going. He lands a slew of kisses on Hyeongjun’s knuckles, across the tattoos wrapped like rings around the base of several of his fingers, along the lines spanning the length of his pointer, the diamond shape on his middle. The whole time, Hyeongjun is watching him without saying anything at all. Jooyeon pauses with his mouth hovering over Hyeongjun’s black-painted nails. He raises his eyes to glance at Hyeongjun once more, trying to gauge his reaction with little success. It scares him a bit. Hyeongjun has always been difficult to read, but Jooyeon was convinced he had long learned how to interpret his expressions. This is new, though. This whole situation is new. Jooyeon exhales another shaky breath. “Let me know if this is weird,” he mutters.
“It’s weird,” Hyeongjun says immediately, but he still makes no move to retract his hand, and his eyes only seem to grow darker when Jooyeon laps an experimental kitten lick at Hyeongjun’s pointer finger, then takes the very tip of it past his lips. Hyeongjun’s skin tastes like the salt of sweat and that one expensive hand cream he forgets to use most days. Jooyeon pauses again. He's kind of losing it already, but he makes himself wait. A test. Another opportunity to give Hyeongjun the chance to back out of this while knowing full well they’re probably past the point of no return. Hyeongjun’s eyes are blown completely black now, fastened on Jooyeon’s mouth with honed in intensity. He shakes his head. “Don’t stop.”
When Jooyeon slides Hyeongjun’s finger in deeper, he feels the callouses on the tip of it sliding against the flat of his tongue. He can’t help himself from thinking about what those calloused hands would feel like on other parts of his body, even though he knows that’s a dangerous train of thought to jump aboard. It makes him feel like a pervert. It’s these kinds of thoughts he had previously banished to that box in his mind, but now there's no way for him to ever close that box again. It has been destroyed, and all of the secrets Jooyeon had tucked away for so long are in danger of being exposed. There’s nowhere for Jooyeon to hide anymore. They're beyond that.
So, Jooyeon figures he might as well dive in with reckless abandon. He hollows his cheeks around Hyeongjun’s finger when he pulls off slowly, and the lewd action makes Hyeongjun gasp. The tiniest little sound yanked out of him that somehow still goes straight to the heat swirling in Jooyeon’s belly like a swarm of crackling sparks. It sets something off in his brain. Something dark, something needy. Maybe he should be embarrassed of his own zealousness, but he can’t find it within himself to be. All he can focus on is the feeling of Hyeongjun’s fingers in his mouth – one, two, three – and the quiet little sounds he makes whenever Jooyeon’s teeth graze his knuckles, first by accident, then on purpose just because he wants to hear those sounds again and again and again.
Jooyeon can feel saliva dripping down his chin and coating Hyeongjun’s fingers as they fill up his mouth. He takes them in even deeper, enough to hit his soft palate, to bump against the back of his throat. Enough to make him gag around them. Hyeongjun’s jaw drops, and he lets out the most devastating sound yet, and, fuck, Jooyeon is fucking hard. He's hard and aching from nothing but sucking on Hyeongjun's fingers. Somehow this is simultaneously exactly what he wanted and more than he could have ever hoped for. He doesn't know what the fuck they're even doing or where the fuck they go from here. It doesn't matter. He doesn't care. That is to say he cares very much, but he doesn't have the wherewithal to consider it at the moment. Not when Hyeongjun is looking at him like that.
At last, Hyeongjun does make a motion to retract his fingers. Jooyeon almost thinks he's finally fed up with all of this, that Jooyeon crossed an invisible line that he wasn't aware of. Instead Hyeongjun wipes at the drool on Jooyeon’s chin with his thumb, then hooks it into Jooyeon's mouth, pad suppressing his tongue. The rest of his fingers curl under Jooyeon’s jaw to cradle it and tilt his head back just so. Jooyeon goes willingly, baring his neck, letting himself be moved however Hyeongjun wants him. Always so easily molded. His breathing comes out heavy, ragged, unsteady. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Hyeongjun’s face. Jooyeon's own trembling hand comes up to wrap around Hyeongjun's wrist to ground himself, and he can feel Hyeongjun's pulse thrumming right beneath the skin, quick like a rabbit’s heartbeat. “Jun,” Jooyeon garbles around the finger in his mouth.
“You're insane,” Hyeongjun whispers. Has he leaned in closer, or is the sudden lack of space between them Jooyeon's doing alone? Hyeongjun’s thumb catches at the corner of Jooyeon's lips when he moves to cup Jooyeon's cheek in the palm of his hand. Hyeongjun’s skin is tacky with saliva. It should be gross, to have that pressed against the side of his face, but for some reason it only makes Jooyeon's dick twitch in his pants. God, he's so fucked.
“Jun,” Jooyeon says again. He doesn't even really know what he's trying to ask for. He doesn't know how to ask for what he really wants. Hyeongjun's small mouth hangs slightly open to show a peek of his cute front teeth. Jooyeon gets a sudden, unhinged urge to lick them. He wonders what kind of noises Hyeongjun would make with Jooyeon's tongue sliding between his lips.
“I’m…” Hyeongjun begins hoarsely. “I want…” It jerks Jooyeon back into full focus. He has a habit of clinging on to Hyeongjun's every word with purpose, but as usual the attention only seems to make Hyeongjun more nervous, makes him shrink into himself a little. A prey animal hiding itself from a perceived threat. In a fit of foolish boldness, Jooyeon turns his head just enough that he can press his lips to the inside of Hyeongjun's wrist in what he hopes comes across as a comforting gesture. Hyeongjun gasps. His hand twitches against the side of Jooyeon's face, and as if the words are startled out of him, he whispers: “Kiss me?”
Despite his vigilance, Jooyeon still believes he must have misheard. “Yeah?” he asks, just to make sure. Just to be certain that he's not fucking things up even more between them.
“Mhm,” Hyeongjun says with a nod. His cheeks are deliciously pink again. “Yeah.” It's all Jooyeon needs.
Their first kiss is soft, gentle, almost tame. Jooyeon leaning in the rest of the way (and this time he knows for sure that it's his doing) to press their lips together. Nothing more than a peck, really. They part with a slick little sound, but Jooyeon doesn't back up very far. He remains close enough for their noses to brush, close enough to feel Hyeongjun's elevated breathing against his upper lip. Hyeongjun still has his eyes shut. Jooyeon has to bite back a lovesick grin at how cute he looks. Tenderly, he brushes a lock of Hyeongjun's hair back behind his ear. “Yeah?” Jooyeon whispers again. Mostly to confirm once and for all that this is real, that they're really doing this. Partially to be a tease.
Either way, it has the desired effect. Hyeongjun lets out a strangled sort of whine from somewhere in the back of his throat. The hand that had previously been cradling Jooyeon's cheek moves up further, fingers sliding into Jooyeon's long hair and cupping the back of his head to drag him in for another kiss. Jooyeon doesn't fight it. He kisses Hyeongjun harder, deeper, tilting his head slightly to the side to keep their noses from bumping each other. His hands find their way to Hyeongjun's body, one on the side of his neck, the other kneading his thigh, gripping the fabric of his sweatpants like a lifeline. In a way, Jooyeon fears Hyeongjun might drift away if he doesn't hold on to him tight enough. A mirage. A vivid daydream. A figment of Jooyeon's imagination. The press of Hyeongjun's knees against his own certainly seems real, though, and the muffled moans he keeps emitting sound very much real as well.
When Jooyeon feels the tentative swipe of Hyeongjun's tongue over his bottom lip, he opens for him easily. Parts his lips and allows Hyeongjun to lick his way into his mouth. Shudders as heat rushes down his spine to settle at the base of it. Jooyeon feels dizzy already. From lack of breathing, probably, but also from how eager and reciprocative Hyeongjun seems about all of this. He kisses like he's been starving for it, and Jooyeon is trying his best to keep up when his brain is lagging behind so severely, short-circuiting entirely when Hyeongjun curls his hand into a fist and tugs on Jooyeon's hair.
Before Jooyeon even realizes what he's doing, he has maneuvered both of them, and he has Hyeongjun pinned to the couch. They're both panting. Hyeongjun is blinking up at him with dark eyes, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen, long hair fanned out on the armrest. He looks so fucking beautiful. Oh, all the things Jooyeon would love to do to him. Enticed, he dips down to kiss Hyeongjun again and simultaneously lets one hand slip under Hyeongjun's oversized shirt to settle on his tiny waist, skin soft and warm under his touch, belly fluttering. He makes sure to hold himself gingerly off Hyeongjun's body to keep from revealing the embarrassing predicament in his pants. Jooyeon doesn't want things to become too overwhelming.
Hyeongjun doesn't seem to have similar qualms, though. He still has his fingers clutching Jooyeon's hair in an almost desperate grip, and the palm of his other hand presses to the small of Jooyeon's back, pulling him closer, pulling him in. It doesn't take a lot of coaxing for Jooyeon’s resolve to break and for him to stop holding himself back. He goes. Hyeongjun's parted thighs bracket his hips, and then they're fully connected, body to body. Jooyeon emits a startled moan, swallowed up by Hyeongjun's greedy lips. Hyeongjun is hard too. Even through several layers of clothing, Jooyeon can feel him. Of their own accord, Jooyeon's hips kick forward. Hyeongjun lets out a choked sob. He accidentally bites down on Jooyeon's bottom lip a bit too hard, causing Jooyeon to jerk back in shock. “Fuck,” Hyeongjun croaks. “Sorry, I'm…”
“‘s okay.” Jooyeon runs his tongue over the sting and tastes blood. Mostly he's just surprised by the unexpected effect the pain had on his arousal. He swallows thickly. “Are you…? Do you want to stop?” He has barely completed the sentence before Hyeongjun is shaking his head fervently.
“Hell no,” Hyeongjun says. He hooks his leg around Jooyeon's waist as if to keep him from going anywhere. On the contrary, the motion only presses their bodies closer together, and Hyeongjun throws his head back with a moan when Jooyeon grinds down against him again, this time on purpose. Jooyeon feels like he's losing his mind. Like his brain has been replaced by cotton candy. He buries his face in the side of Hyeongjun's neck, lips and teeth finding that sensitive spot under the hinge of his jaw to suck a pretty, crimson mark. Jooyeon sprinkles kisses across Hyeongjun's throat, down the tendon connecting to his shoulder, along the flash of collarbone where his shirt is pushed askew. All the while he keeps rolling his hips to the best of his ability. There's not much rhyme or reason to his motions, he's too worked up and needy for that. He just does whatever feels good, and aligning himself so he can rut against the hard line of Hyeongjun's dick definitely does.
It feels a little too good, perhaps. It's unfortunate. Jooyeon doesn't want this to be over so fast, but he can already feel the familiar signs of his climax approaching. He shudders. Slows down the motions of his hips, despite Hyeongjun's whine of protest. “Fuck,” Jooyeon moans, breathing heavily against the side of Hyeongjun's neck. He pulls back when Hyeongjun tries to continue rutting against him. “Fuck, Jun, I can't–”
“Please,” Hyeongjun whispers. He slips a hand under Jooyeon's shirt so he can drag his blunt nails down Jooyeon's back. The sensation makes Jooyeon shudder again, brain going haywire from being bombarded by unbidden mental images of scratches left behind on his skin.
Jooyeon groans. “I'm gonna come in my fucking pants.”
It startles a laugh out of Hyeongjun, breathy and light but genuine. “Good,” he says. He lifts his hips off the couch so he can grind on Jooyeon's thigh instead, and Jooyeon is becoming more and more convinced that this whole thing really is a figment of his imagination after all. He takes a much needed moment to gather his wits about him before he shifts, realigning himself once more, crotch to crotch. Then, he picks back up where he left off. Hyeongjun moans. His thighs are quivering on either side of Jooyeon's waist. Jooyeon fucking swears he can feel Hyeongjun's dick twitching. Maybe it's his own. Maybe both.
This time, Jooyeon holds himself up on trembling arms so he can watch Hyeongjun's face. He looks a little out of it, eyes glassy, expression slack with pleasure. The hickey Jooyeon sucked under his jaw is turning dark, and Jooyeon would feel bad about the scolding Hyeongjun is inevitably going to get from the stylists, but the possessive warmth coiling in his belly tells him to be proud of leaving his mark behind. “You're so pretty,” Jooyeon praises. He thumbs at the bruise on Hyeongjun's skin, and the warmth seems to coil even tighter, pleased. “Fuck. You make me go insane.”
“Jooyeon,” Hyeongjun moans. His hands are grasping at the back of Jooyeon's shirt, desperate for purchase.
The sound of his name falling from Hyeongjun's lips has Jooyeon's breath catching in his burning lungs. “Again,” he says. He wants it to come across as a demand while knowing full well it sounds more like a needy plea.
“Jooyeon,” Hyeongjun repeats nonetheless, voice cracking on the latter half of the name, and somehow that is what pushes Jooyeon over the edge. His hips lose all semblance of the rhythm that was barely there to begin with. His vision goes blurry for a moment, galaxies dancing on the backs of his eyelids when he blinks back into focus. His climax overtakes him, and he comes with a moan that feels like it was wretched out from the very bottom of his core. He can't recall a time prior to this where he actually came in his pants, not even when he was an inexperienced teenager fooling around for the first time. It's a sticky, uncomfortable feeling, but getting to watch Hyeongjun trembling through an orgasm of his own is enough to make Jooyeon forget all about the mess in his underwear. Just like in a lot of other instances, Hyeongjun is quiet when he comes as well. Not much more than a gasped inhale and a shuddery exhale. Jooyeon decides to make it his new personal mission to discover how to make Hyeongjun be loud.
Spent, Jooyeon lets himself collapse on top of Hyeongjun with his full weight. It’s not an unusual position for them. Jooyeon likes to do this when he’s in the mood to tease Hyeongjun, or when he’s feeling emotionally raw and needs a cuddle. Sometimes the latter disguised as the former. This time feels different, though. Usually, Hyeongjun will pretend-protest and try to wrestle Jooyeon off. Occasionally he ignores it because he knows what Jooyeon really wants is to get a rise out of him. Maybe because he secretly needs a cuddle too.
This time, however, Hyeongjun does neither. Instead he caresses the back of Jooyeon’s head, like petting a puppy. Even when Jooyeon nuzzles his face into the side of Hyeongjun’s neck, a space he has become very familiar with at this point, Hyeongjun doesn’t shy away. It’s a little unreal. A little unbelievable. Jooyeon’s heart begins to feel too big for his chest, and he gets the overwhelming urge to break the silence, even if it’s not an uncomfortable one. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I love your tattoos,” he mumbles into Hyeongjun’s skin. I love you.
Hyeongjun huffs. “Right. Kind of figured as much.” He’s running his fingers through Jooyeon’s hair now. It feels as if he’s untangling all the knots he put in it himself from pulling on it so much. It’s incredibly soothing. Jooyeon swears he could fall asleep just like this, but he knows it’s a terrible idea. He should definitely wash up and change his underwear first. Hopefully he can convince Hyeongjun to cuddle again afterwards. Hopefully in one of their beds. Hyeongjun hums pensively. “Maybe I should get a tattoo on my dick next.”
It takes a moment for the words to register. Then Jooyeon sits up abruptly so he can gawk at Hyeongjun’s face, trying to decipher his tone. Hyeongjun merely blinks back at him for a few seconds. Then, his facade cracks into a smile. Jooyeon groans. He buries his face in Hyeongjun’s shoulder again and feels it shaking with a laugh when Jooyeon mumbles: “What the fuck?” He doesn’t tell Hyeongjun that he would happily suck his dick, with or without tattoos. That’s a conversation for another time.