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Heeseung and Riki are asleep on the sofa. The recliner setting activated, so they're slumped into each other, knees knocking together and Riki's forehead resting on Heeseung's shoulder. Their cheeks are squished, lips pouting, and theres a shiny trail of spit in the corner of Riki's mouth.
Jake feels sort of like a creep staring at them, but he can't seem to stop. He's supposed to be waking them up to eat dinner, but they look so peaceful that the idea of waking them makes him feel physically ill. The tv is still on, the theme music for the Mario Kart main menu playing on a loop that should be annoying, but in this moment it feels more like a lullaby. Jake knows that Riki has been struggling with homesickness lately, and because of that he's been more sensitive, prone to outbursts of sass followed by long periods of sulking. He needles at the other members, pushing and pushing until they snap, like he needs someone to yell at him so that he has an excuse to hole up in his room and cry. But right now, curled up into Heeseung's side, one hand clutching at the throw blanket tossed over both of them, he looks peaceful. He also looks years younger, like he's a five year old kid cuddled up with his dad instead of a seventeen year old young-adult hanging with his bandmate.
And Heeseung, with one arm curled around Riki's shoulder, hand loose over his ear like he was playing with his hair - petting him to sleep, probably - looks every bit the dad that Riki jokingly calls him. There's an air of protectiveness in the way he's curled around Riki, like he's trying to shield him from the world even when he's asleep.
And Jake...Jake feels like a mother that has come in from making dinner to find her two boys asleep. Which is fucking weird, so he's just going to keep that to himself.
"Hey!" Jay shouts from the kitchen. He's speaking English, which is how Jake knows that he's in the shit with him. "What's the hold up. I can't hold the kids back anymore."
Jake's stomach flips, but it's not the unpleasant 'I'm about to be sick' sort of flip. It's hotter, more liquid, the kind of flip that he also feels in his balls. It's the kind of flip he feels when he catches a sight of underboob or when he starts scrolling through porn on his phone. The kind of flip that means he's one wrong (or right) word away from popping a boner.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth and holds it, hoping that by not breathing he can will the fluttering in his gut away. He opens his mouth to say something, but then changes his mind, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick photo. He doesn't think he'll be able to share it on the socials - it's a bit too intimate - but he can drop it in the group chat once Riki gets to a point where he can handle the teasing and cooing of the members again.
Jake sits down on the other side of Riki and tucks his long hair behind his ear, taking a moment to once again admire how cute the scene is, before poking his cheek with a pointed finger. Riki groans and tries to swat his hand away, but Jake continues, poking his cheek and then his side, and then leaning over to press a wet kiss to his cheek before blowing a raspberry.
"Hyung!" Riki whines, finally opening his eyes. He places his whole hand on Jake's face and shoves him away, but he's laughing, which makes Jake laugh too. Heeseung is quiet but Jake can see him shifting, stretching his legs and then his arms.
"Dinner's ready," Jake says. "You boys hungry?"
Jake is pretty sure he's heard the same exact turn of phrase from his mom at one point in his life, but he shoves that thought to the side. Riki groans and collapses back onto Heeseung, landing heavily on his stomach. Heeseung groans, but he doesn't push Riki off. Instead he pats the back of Riki's head, smoothing down his bed-head frizz. Heeseung meets Jake's gaze; his eyes are dark and his smile is soft and Jake's heart starts pounding in his throat.
"What's for dinner?" Heeseung asks, his voice raspy with sleep. Jake's stomach does that uncomfortable flip again. He feels a tingle of heat along his inner thighs and so he crosses his legs.
"Chicken, I think? Lotta fried junk honestly."
That gets Riki's attention. He bounds up and is across the room before Jake can blink. The blanket trails after him, still tangled around one of his legs.
"Slow down!" Heeseung calls, "and make sure you wash your hands!"
"Yeah, yeah, dad," Riki says, and it's so easy, the way he just throws that around. Even to Jake "yes mom, stop worrying mom, look mom," like he has no idea what that shit does to him.
Jake has been straight for most of his life. He's been a bro's bro, a dude's dude. And then he did a survival show and got used to feeling small under Heeseung's arm and felt this urge to mother literally everyone and now he's having kind of a crisis because he keeps staring at the way Heeseung's legs are spread and how he should drop to his knees between them to thank him for being a great dad to Riki.
Heeseung shifts, his legs spreading even more, and Jake swallows heavily. He knows that he's blushing, but there's nothing for him to do about it, so he just meets Heeseung's gaze head-on.
"You alright?" Heeseung asks. "You look feverish."
"I'm fine."
Except he doesn't sound fine. He sounds guilty as hell, and from the way Heeseung arches an eyebrow he can hear it.
"Are-aren't you hungry?"
Heeseung shakes his head. "Nah," he says. He stretches, and when he does his shirt rides up, revealing a pale sliver of tummy and some fine dark hairs. Jake swallows heavily; he should look away, he knows he should, but he can't quite bring himself to do it until Heeseung lowers his arms and he's sufficiently covered again.
"Hey," he says softly. "Come with me to my room."
Jake nods and follows without question, but not before stopping in the kitchen to let them know that they don't need to wait up. (Not that anyone is; they all look up at him with chicken-stuffed cheeks and sauce-stained lips.)
Heeseung is waiting by the door when Jake walks in, and as soon as the door is closed his large, cool hands are on Jake's cheeks and neck. Jake can feel himself flushing even more. He squeaks and backs up, but he hits the wall and has to just deal with Heeseung's hands on him. Heeseung's hands on his neck.
"Talk to me," Heeseung says, his eyes wide and searching. "Are you feeling sick?"
"No," Jake says, pushing Heeseung's hands off of him. Heeseung doesn't give up easily though, instead holding onto Jake by his shoulders. Jake feels like he's going to die. "No, it's nothing like that."
"So what is it?"
"It's stupid."
"Jake, you're clearly bothered by something. That's not stupid."
Jake wants to melt into the floor. He also wants to melt into Heeseung's stupidly large chest. And therein lies the problem.
He sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face (even though they flop right back in his eyes).
"Thank you," he finally says. "For being there for Riki. You're...you're such a great father figure for him, you know? And I don't know if anyone else has said it but I see it and I just...yeah."
Heeseung is quiet for a long moment, and when Jake finally gets the courage to look at him, he sees that he's smiling.
"Thanks," he says. "But it's not just me. You mother him, too, you know? It's a group effort."
Jake feels like his knees are going to buckle, and maybe they do because Heeseung adjust his hands to Jake's waist like he's afraid he's going to crumple.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Except he's not. He's so not. He feels five seconds away from either getting hard or spontaneously combusting. Heeseung stares at him with his dark, dark eyes, holds him up with his big, big hands, and Jake can't breathe. He fidgets, legs rubbing together, and then Heeseung glances down and it's all over.
"You're hard," he says, completely tactless, and Jake lets out a strangled noise while his head thunks back against the wall. Maybe if he brains himself, he won't have to deal with this mortifying embarrassment.
"From what?" Heeseung continues, like his sole purpose in life now is to see how embarrassed Jake can get before he catches fire. "All I said was that you help parent Riki too and..."
He trails off, slowly lifting his gaze back up to Jake's face. Jake hates how perceptive Heeseung is, hates how he can't hide anything from him. Heeseung watches him for a moment, and then the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.
"You like it," he says. "Playing house."
"It's not playing," Jake says automatically, defensive. "You really care about him like he's your kid. I like that."
Heeseung hums. He steps in closer so that they're pressed together, close enough so that Jake can feel the heat of him, can feel the pounding of his heart, to feel the way they line up.
"I like it too," he says, pressing their foreheads together. "I like when you go all mom mode."
Jake resists rolling his eyes. "That doesn't get you hard though. This is embarrassing."
"Who says it doesn't?"
Jake wants to scoff, wants to shove at Heeseung's chest and tell him to stop playing, but the look on his face is so genuine that it makes Jake pause. He tilts his head, contemplating how much of a risk he wants to take. It'd be better to just laugh everything off and make an escape, except...
Except he doesn't want to do that.
"Does it?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Heeseung shrugs.
"Sometimes," he says. "Like...when we're traveling and you make sure everyone has everything, and then you always get really close, you know, looking over everyone's shoulder, patting our pockets to make sure we have our wallets and stuff. Or when you lean over me in the car so that you can wipe Riki's face?"
Jake swallows heavily, but Heeseung isn't done. He leans in so that his nose brushes against the shell of Jake's ear, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of his neck.
"Sometimes when we're done playing with the kids and you cuddle next to me, you'll say shit like 'I love our kids' and it drives me insane."
"Me too," Jake whines. "You drive me insane too."
Heeseung is smiling when he pulls back, grin wide, teeth gleaming in the low light from the lava lamp on the dresser. Then it falters, and he clears his throat.
"I'm not reading this wrong, right? We're talking about the same thing, right?"
"Can I suck your dick?" Jake blurts out in lieu of an answer, and the way Heeseung's eyes immediately darken is answer enough. His cheeks blaze bright red, but he still nods and steps back until he flops onto his bed, legs spread. Jake immediately drops to his knees, then realizes that he's still too far away. He debates getting back up, but then decides fuck it and crawls across the floor until he can place his hands on Heeseung's thighs. He nuzzles into Heeseung's crotch, reveling in the way that Heeseung groans and gently cups the back of his head. Heeseung smells like laundry detergent and body wash mixed with sweat. Jake's spit suddenly gets thick in his mouth, and he has to press his cheek against Heeseung's thigh and take deep breaths so he doesn't drool.
"Take your time," Heeseung murmurs. "The kids are eating and then it's bath time and bed, so you've got plenty of time."
Jake groans, thankful that he has the foresight to muffle it with Heeseung's sweatpants. He presses the flat of his palm against the warmth of Heeseung's crotch, his breath catching at the feel of him. Heeseung is big, even though he's only half-hard, and there's a strange sort of power that he feels, knowing that every sound Heeseung makes, the steady firmness of his dick getting harder, his tiny aborted thrusts, are all because of Jake.
When Jake finally does pull his sweats down (not without some wiggling and shared giggles at how awkward the act of undressing is), he does start drooling. His spit wells up hot and thick under his tongue, so he drops his mouth open and wraps his lips around the tip. Heeseung sucks in a sharp breath, his hips jumping and accidentally forcing more into Jake's mouth.
"Ah, shit, dude," he groans. Jake snorts, which causes him to gag, which makes him pull off of Heeseung so quickly that thick globs of spit run down his chin and neck.
"Dude," he whines, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, "don't call me dude when I'm blowing you."
Heeseung laughs, but it sounds breathless and a little hoarse. His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are flushed.
"Sorry," he says, sheepish. Jake levels a glare at him, but he can't hold it. Heeseung's cock is shiny with spit and precum, and as much as Jake would like to drag this out, his own cock is throbbing in his jeans. He drags his tongue along the slit, reveling in the way Heeseung's head flops back. He repeats the motion a few times, then takes him into his mouth again, this time sliding down almost halfway.
Jake doesn't know if Heeseung is particularly thick or if his mouth is particularly small, but he already feels the stretch in the corners of his lips. His skin feels pulled taut, feels like it's bruising with every slide up and down Heeseung's cock. He can't quite get the rhythm of suck, move, swallow, so it's messy and loud - the slick sounds of Jake's hand moving over what he can't fit into his mouth, the sudden loss of suction, Jake sniffling because for some reason his nose won't stop running. It should be gross, but the weight of Heeseung on his tongue, and the way he's got his fingers tangled in Jake's hair, guiding his head to a pace that he needs, makes it all worth it. If Heeseung doesn't mind the way Jake's spit pools around his fist, then Jake won't think about how gross it is.
And, sounds aside, it's not gross. It feels right to be doing this, like he's meant to be on his knees for Heeseung, worshipping him like this. Jake has never sucked a dick in his life, hadn't even thought about it before, but everything he does makes Heeseung whine, makes him shake, makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, and it's honestly the hottest thing Jake has ever experienced. His own cock aches where it's pressed up against the zipper of his jeans, and he lets go of Heeseung's hip so that he can undo his pants and get some relief.
"Fuck," Heeseung moans, thrusting into Jake's mouth so hard that it makes him gag. "Sorry, sorry - just, fuck are you touching yourself?"
Jake hums, sliding up so that he's just suckling the tip. Now that he's got a hand around himself, he doesn't think he can stop. Everything feels so good; the sting in his lips and the burn in his throat and the sticky glide of his hand over his cock. He can already feel a sizzling deep in the put of his stomach, little sparks that shoot out to his fingers and toes and the tips of his eyelashes.
"That's so hot," Heeseung whines. His fingers tighten in Jake's hair, and he tugs, pulling Jake off so that he's left with his mouth hanging open, tongue pressed against the tip of his cock. "Fuck baby, are you getting off on this?"
Jake nods, hyper aware of how loud his breathing is. He feels like a dog, tongue out and begging for a chance to be good. God, what's wrong with him.
"Jake," Heeseung says, letting go of his hair and instead dragging his hand down so that he can press his thumb against Jake's tongue. "Fuck. Fuck, let me, I wanna do you, too."
Jake doesn't know what Heeseung wants to do to him exactly, but it doesn't matter. He falls back onto his butt, kicking his pants off and pausing his furious jerk-off session so that he can rub some feeling back into his knees and calves. (They're bruised and there are red, irritated patches of skin from where he'd rubbed against the floor through the holes in his jeans. He prays for cool weather because he won't be able to wear shorts for at least a week.
Heeseung gently pushes Jake back until he's laying on the floor, draping himself over Jake until their cocks rub together. It's a little too dry, too tacky with spit and sweat, but it doesn't matter. Jake wraps his arms around Heeseung's neck and his legs around his waist and pulls him close, pulls him in until their mouths meet, desperate, all teeth and tongue and spit and breath. There is no finesse in what they are doing, but it works because they both chase what feels good. Jake wonders if Heeseung is thinking what he is, that in this position, Heeseung on top and Jake spread beneath him, it's almost like they're making love, like they're married and this is their one chance to come together before the kids interrupt them.
Heeseung ruts against him and Jake bites Heeseung's bottom lip in an attempt to hold back a moan. Heeseung groans instead, right into his mouth, and then he kisses him hard and wet, tongue in his mouth and across his lips.
"We-" Jake pants out, his lips constantly knocking against Heeseung's teeth. "we gotta be quiet. Don't wanna...the kids..."
"Okay," Heeseung says; maybe he tries to whisper and fails, or maybe he's really too far gone to care. He nips at Jake's lips, bites down his jaw, then sucks hard on pulse point. Jake cries out, unable to even cover his mouth because his hands are clutching at Heeseung's shoulders. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. He can feel his orgasm building scarily fast, and there's a part of him that wants to stop it before it gets too overwhelming. His breath catches in his chest, making him hiccup every time Heeseung thrusts against him.
"So pretty," Heeseung groans, one hand reaching down to grope and pull at Jake's ass. His grip is bruising, and Jake feels the coil wind even tighter.
"C-close," he whines, moving his hands to instead grip and pull at Heeseung's hair. Heeseung responds by kissing him again, though at the pace that they are moving, Jake grinding against him with a force that's almost painful, it's less kissing and more sharing breath, panting and whining against each other's lips.
Jake isn't able to give another warning before he comes; the string snaps suddenly and his entire body floods with pleasure. His back arches so much that his head slams against the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He shakes through it, dimly aware of Heeseung still moving against him, Heeseung's mouth on his neck, Heeseung's voice murmuring something over and over like a mantra. A noise rips out of his throat, something he has absolutely no control over, something ragged and sobbing. And then Heeseung is biting hard on his shoulder and Jake can feel warmth hit his abdomen, can feel Heeseung trembling above him, and he knows that the experience was just as intense for him.
Jake doesn't know how long they lay there, Heeseung's teeth still dug into his shoulder and their jizz steadily cooling between their stomachs, but it's long enough that Jake's feet and hands fall asleep. Still he doesn't move; even though there are pins and needles in his fingertips, he runs them through Heeseung's sweat damp hair.
"Think the kids heard us?" Heeseung finally asks, his voice barely above a grumble against Jake's bruised shoulder. Jake laughs, chokes on his spit, laughs harder. Heeseung also snorts, propping himself up on his elbows so he can look down at Jake. He trails a hand down Jake's neck, so gentle in comparison to earlier. It makes Jake shiver.
"Sorry," he says. "I think you're going to have to wear turtlenecks for a few days."
"I'll just say I got into a biting match with Riki," Jake mumbles. "No one will question it."
"You're going to use our son to cover up our devious activity? Nice."
Jake laughs again, then pushes at Heeseung's chest until he rolls onto his side. They lay there, arms touching, jizz steadily cooling on their t-shirts and stomachs.
"I think you rubbed my dick raw," Jake mumbles.
"Want me to kiss it better?"
Heat floods Jake's cheeks, and he absently swats his hand until he makes satisfying contact with Heeseung's chest. Heeseung groans, but he takes Jake's hand in his, pressing it to the center of his chest so that he can feel his heartbeat. It's an uncomfortable position, but Jake likes feeling the steady rhythm, likes knowing that he's the reason why it's pounding so hard.
"We should take a shower," Heeseung says. Jake nods.
"Carry me," he demands (he absolutely does not whine). Heeseung rolls back over on top of him and rubs their noses together.
"Whatever mommy wants," he murmurs against Jake's lips, then laughs when Jake swats him again. Still; they kiss, and they kiss, and if Jake's dick twitches every time Heeseung jokingly calls him mommy, that's something he can keep to himself.
For now.