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Gyuvin likes to share a lot with the fans. He offers himself up freely for them to see. There’s not much he feels the need to hide, beyond obvious idol-appropriate etiquette.
If something happens, then Gyuvin will tell everyone about it on Bubble. He knows fans enjoy the episodes he shares with the members, that they find it cute.
Ricky was sulking as of right now. Gyuvin almost cackles out loud. There was something odd in the pure unadulterated joy Gyuvin received from riling Ricky up, watching Ricky pout and whine and sulk in response to Gyuvin toying with him.
Maybe he liked how he could force out such a wide spectrum of emotions from the otherwise quiet Ricky, who has resting neutral expression that comes off as cold or standoffish in public. It’s frustrating though. Gyuvin wants people to know Ricky isn’t like that, that he’s Lovelicky, cute and adorable. Simultaneously, Gyuvin also wants to gatekeep this side of Ricky and have it all for himself.
Gyuvin liked to push him though. He likes it when he sees Ricky’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and frustration, when he slowly processes that Gyuvin is in fact teasing him. When Ricky starts to berate him, his Korean fluency suddenly native when it’s time to argue, spitting out words like he’s rapping.
Ricky’s so cute like that. Gyuvin rolls around on his bed. Ricky’s on scrolling on his phone on the top bunk. Gyuvin likes it more than his own bed. There’s always the scent of Ricky’s aftershave and his perfume but best of all just Ricky-smell. Gyuvin sometimes presses his face into Ricky’s pillow and inhales like a drowning man gasping for air. There’s just something addictive about his scent.
Gyuvin had tried to cheer Ricky up and he’s typing a summary onto Bubble of how he’d been, well, love bombing Ricky in the most literal sense. He was too happy to keep it to himself.
The satisfying thrill that had raced up his spine when Ricky had reciprocated.
The quiet ‘me, too’. Gyuvin clutches his phone to his chest and rolls around giddily again. He’d wanted to squeeze Ricky till his head exploded and his brains went everywhere when he said that. The urge to hold Ricky and squeeze ridiculously hard like a boa constrictor suffocating its prey.
Ricky Ricky Ricky Ricky Ricky Ricky Ricky
Kim Ricky.
Satisfied, Gyuvin had released Ricky and here he is now.
Rick-butt is so pretty, he types out.
Confirm message? He taps his way impatiently through the three message confirmations on Bubble before his mind wanders gleefully to the photo of Ricky’s butt in his gallery.
What if…?
Did he dare?
Gyuvin indeed dares. Ricky is going to kill him. It would be glorious. It isn’t anything that bad. Ricky’s face isn’t even in the photo. It isn’t an obscene or racy pic.
Yeah, it’ll be fine. The only victim would be Ricky’s pride.
Gyuvin confirms the upload three times and watches the image load onto his Bubble. Heh. Almost instantly his Bubble notifications began to go wild with confused reactions from the fans.
I will now run away, he sends, giggling to himself.
Three, two, one.
There was a shout of outrage from the bunk above, the springs of the mattress groaning as Ricky sits up. Gyuvin slips out his bed and out the room quickly, trying to muffle his laugh.
“KIM GYUVIN!” A muffled yell comes through the walls.
Gyuvin dashes to Hanbin’s room without looking behind him, throwing the door open. Taerae’s at the desk, strumming his guitar, a notebook next to him. He looks mildly irritated at the interruption.
“What happened to knocking, Gyuvin??” Taerae says, raising his eyebrows. The page on his notebook is full of scribbles and crossed out words.
“Yo!” Gyuvin greets, already clambering onto the lower bunk and stretching his limbs out. “What’re you doing?”
Taerae purses his lips, colouring slightly.
“Just finishing up the song I’m working on.”
“The one about Seok Mattchu?” Gyuvin says, the smirk evident from his tone of voice.
“That one,” Taerae agrees, sounding a tad weary. He goes back to composing, evidently in the zone.
Gyuvin doesn’t disturb him and lets Taerae hum and sing softly to himself, occasionally stopping to jot something down.
He can hear Ricky go down to the kitchen and that’s his cue to head back to his room. The Versace slippers have a distinct slap-shuffle that marks the footsteps out as Ricky. It’s not weird. Gyuvin can identify every member by their footsteps and the sound of their breathing. He’s not that obsessed with Ricky.
A few minutes after Gyuvin stealthily creeps back into his room, taking care to avoid making the door creak, Ricky bursts through the door anyway, with a face like thunder. On the scale of how mad he is, Gyuvin reckons he’s still safe. He won’t be taking critical damage, at least.
“YA!!”
Gyuvin peeks at Ricky innocently, pretending to scroll on his phone. His screen isn’t even powered on. Ricky’s hair is un—styled, as messy as it gets, and he’s in his black silk pyjamas; arms crossed; brows furrowed. His glare bores straight into Gyuvin’s soul.
“Oh?” Gyuvin says, putting his phone down. “Why did you come in so late? We need to sleep soon.”
Ricky ignores him. He marches up to Gyuvin and shoves his phone in Gyuvin’s face, making him go cross-eyed. Gyuvin winces at the full brightness of the screen, highlighting Ricky’s butt.
“Why did you post this?” Ricky yells, as loud as yelling gets for him. Cats can’t roar, after all.
Gyuvin pushes his arm away and gets out of bed to stand up and pout at Ricky shamelessly. The words roll of his tongue like butter.
“Hey, why are you being like this?”
Ricky’s eyes narrow even further.
“I’m asking you why you posted this!” he demands. Gyuvin delights in his dulcet tone. He’s holding back laughter, but interestingly heat also flares in his stomach. Simmering under the surface is white-hot desire, too far down for Gyuvin to be consciously aware of it.
“Eh, why?” Gyuvin says, shaking with mirth. “What’s wrong, Ricky-yah?”
Ricky stalks closer, barely a foot apart from Gyuvin.
“My image!” he spits, petulant and despairing. Ricky’s still holding the phone out, knuckles white with the force he’s gripping it with, then the hand slowly lowers itself back down. A deep exhale. “You’re ruining my image!”
“You have no image,” Gyuvin replies, calming himself enough to present a straight face. For some reason, he pokes Ricky’s collarbone as he says this, with enough force for Ricky to take a step back.
Ricky is thrown off by that for a second and he seems to be genuinely considering Gyuvin’s words.
“Still, this isn’t right!” he protests, flaming up again. You can pinpoint the second Ricky came up with a response. “You can’t just do stuff like this!” He pushes at Gyuvin’s chest this time, much more ineffectually. Gyuvin sways but isn’t unbalanced by it.
Gyuvin fakes an apologetic expression.
“Ah, is that so?” Gyuvin beams at Ricky, eyes twinkling. “I’m sorry.”
He tries to make his escape again but this time, Ricky blocks the door.
“Why are you always blabbering about me on Bubble anyway?” Ricky says, more quietly. Gyuvin shrugs, still playing dumb. “Do you really not care about your image?”
“I ask myself that every day,” Gyuvin sighs, dodging the question like a pro. He just can’t help it; he needs everyone to know how cute Ricky can get when he’s specifically with Gyuvin. “I don’t like you, so why do I always end up doing that?”
“Oh?” Ricky says, raising an eyebrow cynically. “I thought you loved me?” Subconsciously, he leans into Gyuvin’s space. Gyuvin can feel his warmth and smell Ricky and it makes him feel kind of insane. His heart picks up its pace, the rush of blood echoing in his ears and eyes.
“I can still dislike you,” Gyuvin insists but even he can tell he’s losing the battle. Ricky cages Gyuvin in, both palms on the door beside Gyuvin’s head. Just a little closer, Gyuvin thinks dizzily. His hands clench into fists in an effort to stop himself throwing himself at Ricky.
“I think you’re obsessed with me.”
Ricky looks incredibly pleased with himself for thinking of that comeback. So, it’s no wonder Gyuvin disarms him so easily with his next remark.
“I am,” Gyuvin admits, staring back at Ricky guilelessly. Ricky is so close to him. His makeup’s all off but he looks just as alluring, if not more. Natural Ricky, Ricky in the wild. The fans don’t get to see that very often.
“You-” Ricky starts but is cut off as Gyuvin reverses their positions, grabbing Ricky’s waist and spinning them, so Ricky’s the one pressed up against the door instead, his back hitting the wood with a thump.
He presses his face into the divots of Ricky’s collarbones and inhales deeply, letting out a satisfied sigh.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ricky chokes out but he doesn’t move a muscle, letting Gyuvin nose around.
“Be quiet,” Gyuvin says, drunk on their proximity. He squeezes harshly on Ricky’s waist and Ricky does the opposite, letting out a sharp inhale that turns into a squeak.
“You’re the one that posted a picture of my butt onto Bubble!” Gyuvin’s hands slip down from Ricky’s waist to the butt in question, large palms enveloping his cheeks easily. He squeezes.
“Gyuvin,” Ricky hisses and Gyuvin lifts his head to stare him in the eyes. Ricky’s pupils are wide, cheeks slightly flushed. “Stop right now.”
“You have a nice butt, Ricky,” Gyuvin says, squeezing again and Ricky gasps. “You were fine with showing it off before.”
All the fight seems to evaporate from Ricky’s body, and he slumps forward limply, his forehead resting on Gyuvin’s shoulder.
“Are you finally admitting I’m right?” Gyuvin teases and then cries out, because what the fuck, Ricky’s just bitten down on him. His right shoulder starts stinging.
“Are you a cat?” Gyuvin says but he takes his hands off Ricky’s ass. Ouch, it hurts like a little bitch. Ricky looks entirely unapologetic. A ring of teeth marks is on his shoulders, some of the skin broken. Jesus, Ricky has fangs. How did his teeth cut Gyuvin through his shirt?
“You’re a horn dog,” Ricky points out, gesturing at Gyuvin. Gyuvin hadn’t even realised that he was rock-hard, his own pyjama pants tenting extremely obviously. Oh well.
“And you?” Gyuvin flattens a hand over Ricky’s crotch. He smirks as he feels the bulge against Ricky’s thigh. He’s not the only one.
Ricky rips his hand off, looking murderous.
“Don’t touch me after you posted that.”
“I didn’t touch you,” Gyuvin says pedantically. “I touched your clothes.”
“I’m not even gonna reply to that.”
“You just did.”
Ricky whirls around, his eyes blazing. Gyuvin’s gaze goes straight to his lips.
“Why are you so-?”
Gyuvin doesn’t wait for Ricky to finish his sentence. He’s not thinking straight anymore, actions guided by pure instinct. The thinking part of his brain has shut down fully.
His hands find their way around Ricky’s waist, yanking Ricky close to him – close enough for Gyuvin to grind his hips and finally get the friction his dick desperately needs. It’s so good that Gyuvin’s mind short-circuits briefly. But once he’s got a taste of it, his appetite is whet. He wants to devour Ricky whole, make Ricky feel like he’s in heaven, till he’s crying and begging for Gyuvin.
Nails are clawing hard into the flesh of his shoulders. Ricky’s holding onto him for dear life, trembling. Gyuvin feels like he’s got all of Ricky’s weight on him, as if the other boy’s legs have turned to jelly.
“You like that, babe?” Gyuvin says, using Ricky’s waist as leverage to grind against him again.
“Fuck-you,” Ricky gasps in one breath but his hands relax, retracting from Gyuvin’s abused shoulders to link around his neck. Gyuvin’s not sure if Ricky’s even aware, but he’s the one with his hips canting forwards, chasing more stimulation.
Gyuvin tests this theory by pushing Ricky away from him and sure enough, Ricky’s hips rock upwards.
“Are you sure you’re mad at me?” Ricky doesn’t respond to the teasing or simply pretends not to hear it. By now, the neck of Gyuvin’s shirt is wet with condensation from Ricky’s hot breath fanning over it.
He pulls Ricky onto the chair by the desk, so Ricky’s facing him. Ricky lets himself be manhandled into the new position with little resistance. Gyuvin finds himself with a lapful of Ricky, who stares at him blankly, as if waiting for Gyuvin to tell him what comes next. His own shoulder throbs with the reminder of Ricky’s bite so Gyuvin pulls at the collar of Ricky’s shirt, tugging some of the buttons open to return the favour, sucking the pale skin at the base of Ricky’s throat till it colours.
Ricky bares his neck to Gyuvin obediently. His lips trace up the column of Ricky’s neck, along his tattoo, licking his Adam’s apple.
“You really go along with everything,” Gyuvin says in wonder. He cups Ricky’s cheek and lets out a low whistle as Ricky leans into the warmth of his hand. Low-autonomy-Ricky. Look at him. He’d burst in, full of anger and indignance but as soon as Gyuvin pushes him around a little, he crumples like a wet tissue. Speaking of wet, there’s damp patch growing over the front of Ricky’s pyjama bottoms, barely visible in the dim light.
Gyuvin’s not doing any better and he palms himself, letting out a groan. His thigh is starting to go numb with Ricky’s weight. Short whimpers fill the room as Gyuvin’s thigh gets damp, burning with friction as Ricky moves against him, resting on Gyuvin for leverage. There’s no denying the desperate way he’s rutting against Gyuvin’s leg, humping away like he’s in heat.
Unbidden, Gyuvin’s hands sneak under Ricky’s shirt to thumb over his nipples, causing him to tremble violently. Gyuvin pinches at them and Ricky thrashes, almost losing his balance and falling off Gyuvin.
“What do you want, love?” Gyuvin says, cupping Ricky’s chin and forcing him to look Gyuvin in the eyes.
Ricky closes his eyes, a random act of defiance. He’s still humping Gyuvin’s leg though.
“Mm,” he says, choosing now of all times to be taciturn. Just earlier he’d been a whirlwind of words.
“Well, I want to apologise. Let me make up for posting the pic without your permission.” Gyuvin’s also going to rip all his skin off he doesn’t actually do something. No way is he letting Ricky cum in his pants just like this.
Ricky is thrown unceremoniously onto the bottom bunk, lying sideways so he’s perpendicular to the pillow. His head narrowly avoids smacking on the wall. He looks a mess, pupils blown and mouth hanging open, chest heaving and flushed. The sigh is mouthwatering and Gyuvin wipes his chin, literally drooling. Ricky’s so good. Good enough to eat.
Gyuvin pulls his pyjama bottoms down past his ankles, flinging the article of clothing behind him, only to find no underwear. That would explain how Ricky had soaked through his pants so fast.
Gyuvin wonders if Ricky had left his underwear off on purpose. If even subconsciously he’d known that things would end up this way. It’s not the first time they’ve fucked around like this. Sometimes the only way to settle the rising tension is physically. Neither of them is violent or angry enough to exchange blows, so essentially this is the next best way to blow off steam. It’s certainly unconventional, Gyuvin supposes, but it works for them.
Ricky is still pissed but not genuinely angry, Gyuvin can tell as Ricky kicks at him feebly. A truly angry Ricky is indifferent. He doesn’t engage, doesn’t rise to any of Gyuvin’s bait and will give a cold shoulder.
He catches both of Ricky’s feet in one hand to stop his flailing. Who is Ricky trying to fool? Now freed from the confines of his pyjamas, Ricky’s cock is flush against his stomach, curved to the left and leaking steadily.
“I need you a bit closer,” Gyuvin declares, tugging Ricky’s thighs so he slides closer to the edge of his bed, legs resting on Gyuvin’s shoulders.
He’s ever-so-wet, his cock pretty and flushed red. Gyuvin can’t resist pressing a chaste, dry-lipped kiss to the head. Ricky shudders in response at the obscene gesture.
Gyuvin likes sucking Ricky’s dick, when Ricky fucks desperately into the heat of his mouth. But today he’s going to do something he hasn’t done before, that he hasn’t dared to try yet. He goes with the usual routine, licks a stripe down Ricky’s dick, circling the head with tongue, teasing the promise of a blowjob.
“Don’t tease me if you’re apologising,” Ricky complains, hips bucking upwards again. He’s been quite patient so far by Gyuvin’s standards.
“Be patient,” Gyuvin says anyway, taking one of his balls into his mouth, fisting Ricky’s cock at the same time. Then he lets his tongue trail down Ricky’s perineum, this time kissing Ricky’s hole, grinning as it winks.
“Gyu-!” Ricky jumps and almost gets up, so Gyuvin has to hold him down by the hips. “It’s dirty, you can’t!” He sounds panicked ands struggles against Gyuvin’s grasp but he’s not making that much effort.
“Don’t care,” he mutters, exploring with his tongue. It looks and tastes clean enough. Besides, it’s Ricky. Nothing about Ricky could be dis gusting to him. Gyuvin teases his tongue against Ricky’s entrance, flicking his tongue and circling Ricky’s hole as it pulsates. Ricky’s feet are shaking against Gyuvin’s shoulders, and his moans are pitching higher and higher, growing whinier and more nasal.
“Stop it,” Ricky insists, voice strained, “Stop, stop, you can’t- ah!” His words are contradicted by his actions as his thighs tighten around Gyuvin’s head, trapping Gyuvin in between his legs.
Gyuvin acquiesces and stops his teasing to lap properly at Ricky’s hole, making it wet and messy. He’s slobbering like a dog, opening Ricky up slowly. By now, Ricky’s relaxed enough for Gyuvin to push his tongue into Ricky, like he’s French kissing him down there.
There’s a strangled mewl as Ricky’s back arches off the bed.
“You like it when I kiss you here?” Gyuvin chuckles, pulling back to wipe at the drool running down his chin. “Does that make up for it?”
“Don’t say it in such a gross way.”
Gyuvin thrusts his tongue in, feeling Ricky’s hole contract, pulling him further in.
“But you’re kissing me back here?” He says, leaning back to get a look at Ricky. “Are you sure I’m not forgiven yet?”
“Shut up, asshole.”
Ricky is thoroughly debauched, eyes glassy with tears. He’s been playing with his nipples the whole time, his chest red and puffy. It almost looks like he has tits.
“Do you forgive me?” Gyuvin says, wrapping a hand round Ricky and pumping. He digs the heel of his palm over the head of Ricky’s dick, applying pressure.
“F-fuck,” Ricky breathes, twitching from oversensitivity as Gyuvin repeatedly strokes his head with one hand. “Say sorry again.”
“I’m sorry,” Gyuvin says dutifully, other hand sneaking back down to sink a finger into Ricky’s slick hole. He knows Ricky has a thing about his hands, how much longer his fingers are. “Will you forgive me?”
He adds another finger, jabbing more forcefully, pushing his fingertips upwards, trying to locate the prostate. It must be successful because Ricky jerks like he’s been electrocuted, making his loudest sound yet, close to a wail.
“It’s good, yeah?” Gyuvin asks, making sure every thrust of his fingers glides over Ricky’s sweet spot. He’s still got his other hand focused on the tip of Ricky’s cock; his fingers slippery with precum. “C’mon, Ricky, let it go. Forgive me?”
Ricky’s not listening, too busy chasing his own release. He must be close. He’s drooling too now, panting wildly.
“Gyu, ‘m close,” Ricky manages to force out, “Gyu-” He lets out a sob. Gyuvin’s slid his fingers out of Ricky and squeezing the base of his cock tightly.
“You can’t cum yet,” Gyuvin says sternly. “You haven’t forgiven me!”
“Fuck off,” Ricky says, glaring at Gyuvin venomously. “That’s not how it works!”
Gyuvin glares right back, getting all up in Ricky’s face.
“Well, I could just leave…”
“Don’t you dare, Kim Gyuvin.”
“So…” Gyuvin circles his fingers around Ricky’s hole, making him shiver. “You just have to forgive me.”
“Fine,” Ricky relents and Gyuvin’s only all too eager to resume his ministrations, plunging three fingers into Ricky and jerking him off properly.
In seconds, Ricky is crying out, cum spurting all over his belly and Gyuvin’s hand. Gyuvin strokes him through it, till Ricky’s soft.
“You can’t be mad at me anymore,” Gyuvin says, wiping his cum-stained hand on Ricky’s belly. “You agreed to forgive me.”
“Whatever,” Ricky snaps, taking Gyuvin aback. He was expecting Ricky to be more docile after a good orgasm.
“You’re still…” says Ricky eventually, gesturing at Gyuvin’s nether regions. Oh yeah. He’d been so focused on Ricky; he’d totally forgotten how bricked up he was.
“Don’t worry about me,” Gyuvin assures him nobly although he would explode in about five seconds if Ricky touched him and wants to get down on his knees and beg for Ricky to put his hands on him. That however would defeat the whole point.
Ricky pushes himself up slowly off the bed, swinging his legs from his footrest (Gyuvin) and stands up unsteadily.
“Whoa there,” Gyuvin steps in and catches him as he wobbles. Ricky makes a dismissive flapping motion with his hands, sinking to his knees.
Gyuvin goes all bug-eyed as Ricky tugs at his sweatpants. He helps Ricky pull them down and his cock almost pokes Ricky in the eye and blinds him. The sight of Ricky’s fingers around him is almost enough for Gyuvin to nut.
“I’m super close,” Gyuvin mumbles sheepishly, stomach tightening in anticipation already. He’s pretty large and Ricky uses both hands to get him off clumsily, thumbing at his tip. “Shit, Ricky.”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and almost cums instantly when he feels Ricky’s mouth on him. Ricky’s not the best at blowjobs, with his small cherry-like mouth, his lips unable to stretch around Gyuvin’s girth. But Gyuvin’s so pent-up and when he looks down and sees Ricky’s five hundred won eyes staring back at him, he cums so hard he doesn’t even have time to warn Ricky.
Gyuvin’s vision goes fuzzy, but he takes a step back, not wanting to blow his load in Ricky’s mouth – he’s not a fan of the taste. For a brief moment, Gyuvin touches heaven. When he comes to, he realises he’s painted Ricky’s face white instead. Ricky is glaring at him.
“You got it in my goddamn hair.” Ricky seethes at him. But there’s not much bite to it and Gyuvin feels nothing but fond. He grabs some tissue from the nightstand and wipes at Ricky’s face gently.
“Let’s go shower then,” Gyuvin says. He tosses Ricky his dressing gown and waits for him to put it on. As soon as Ricky’s done, Gyuvin scoops him up in a bridal carry and kicks the door open. “I’ll wash your hair and take care of everything. You just relax, ‘kay?”
Ricky lets out a ‘mm’ but it’s the satisfied kind. Gyuvin can’t resist and he kisses the top of Ricky’s head even though his hair’s matted with cum.
“I see you two made up,” Zhang Hao’s voice echoes dryly down the hallway.
Gyuvin laughs nervously.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he gabbles just as Ricky replies to Zhang Hao at the same time in rapid-fire Chinese. Gyuvin has no idea what’s been said but Zhang Hao lets out his signature crow noise and lifts his hands in surrender, backing away.
“I see how it is,” he sings, turning around and marching into Hanbin’s room. “Have fun, kids!”
Gyuvin sets Ricky down once they’re in the bathroom.
“What did you say to Hao-hyung?” he asks curiously.
Ricky avoids his gaze, but his ears turn red. In lieu of answering, he slowly unties the dressing gown, dropping it to the floor.
“Lock the door,” Ricky orders smoothly. “And run the shower.”
“You’re not going to tell you me?” Gyuvin wheedles, but he does as Ricky says.
Once the water warms up, they both step under the hot spray of the shower.
“I will,” Ricky promises him, taking Gyuvin’s hand in his. “Later.”
Gyuvin feels the weight behind his words. Whatever Ricky must have said, he isn’t ready for Gyuvin to know yet.
“That’s fine,” Gyuvin reassures him, reaching for Ricky’s shampoo. “I love you, you know?”
Ricky nods at him, a faint smile curving on his lips.
“Mm.”