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It feels wrong.
It feels like going against the tide, performing not to be great together but to beat one another. Arguing in front of the cameras just for a tiny cut of precious screen time.
Suren notices Zihao’s gaze drop down to his lips as he talks about getting that first place. Sees the corner of his mouth twitch in an amused smirk. Wants to take Zihao by the collar of his shirt and drag him to a nearby bathroom, watch him fall to his knees as soon as the door closes shut. But he can’t, they don’t have time or energy for that. The timing is tight and they get more exhausted and stressed out with each passing day filled with filming and practicing for hours on end.
Zihao takes half a step closer, and Suren feels his fingers twitch involuntarily at his sides, craving to touch, the pull between them as strong as ever despite all that. He’s also annoyed and a little on edge. The played up shift in their dynamic and worry about the outcome of their performances still get to him. The tension is almost palpable, stretched thin like a rubber band that’s about to snap. And Suren is torn between pushing it further or stepping back before Hanwen tugs at Zihao’s arm, making him finally turn away. Suren takes it as a win.
Following days blend into one another. Getting up before the sun rises and falling asleep, dead on their feet, when it’s already down, spending hours in between rehearsing.
From the top.
Again.
One more time.
Wrong foot. Wrong note.
Again!
The practice is gruelling, and tiredness seeps into Suren’s bones, never fully leaving at this point, his throat scratched from constant shouting over music and having to get right back into singing. He hopes it’s worth it, that every piece of himself that he puts into the performance will come back tenfold. He gets up from his spot by the wall and walks back to the center of the group in front of the mirrors.
«Again.»
Suren knows that Zihao works just as hard two rooms down. There’s a part of him still pulling him there, but he’s shoving it down. No time to get distracted by his stupidly hot boyfriend, not with just a couple days left before the recording. He needs to fully focus on perfecting their stage.
They end up running way past midnight, and when they all stumble out into the hall, Zihao’s team is coming out as well. Suren looks at Zihao still trying to catch his breath, eyelids dropping heavy with exhaustion, sweat soaking through his shirt. Even though he wanted nothing more than to drop on his bed and submerge into darkness a minute ago, Suren feels a wave of animalistic hunger rise inside. God, he wants him.
Suren swallows down the suggestion to lose another hour of sleep together that was hanging on the tip of his tongue and just smiles tiredly, clapping Zihao on his shoulder.
«You okay?»
A wordless nod, a low hum before Zihao takes a step closer and hugs him, dropping his head in the crook of Suren’s neck, his warm breath fanning over the damp skin.
«Just a second,» Zihao whispers. Suren puts his arms around him and presses closer, even though it’s too hot, and his legs are screaming at him to give them some rest.
A second turns into several minutes, and everyone else leaves them be, skipping ahead to some well deserved rest. When they finally separate, they still walk to their room with their fingers linked together. It kind of feels like electric sparks zap through their fingertips.
It’s the morning after the performances have been finally recorded that the tension is allowed to overflow.
They have something scheduled later in the afternoon, but the morning is for sleeping in and doing whatever they want.
And Suren knows exactly what he wants, has seen it in his dreams, tangled in between nightmares about elimination and fantasies about his team winning and making it out alive, all of them. These dreams were vague and smudged by his mind’s need to simply rest, but it was unmistakable who was there and what they were doing.
Suren got close with Lynnlynn these days, after sharing a room and having countless night talks about everything; the uncertainty of their future, hopes for their debut, the hardships of having to hide your relationship on a survival show. Lynnlynn listened to everything, probably more than he expected to know. So when Suren sheepishly asks if Zihao could come to their room, he doesn’t bat an eye before agreeing and, bless his soul, leaves shortly after he takes a shower and dresses up, throwing out an excuse of getting some quality time with Yichen.
Suren sends a quick text, and he barely has time to brush his teeth before Zihao barges in the room, not even bothering to knock. He practically jumps the threshold of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. It’s once again one of the few places without the cameras, providing some sense of security.
Suren still has toothpaste splashes on his cheek when Zihao grabs his face and kisses him. It feels like coming home. Zihao’s lips touch his with familiar heat, a little chapped and rough. Exactly what he was missing all this time. His tongue presses insistently, and Suren gives in. Zihao licks into his mouth, replacing minty aftertaste with the sweetness of some fruit he apparently had for breakfast. Suren feels the hot, wet glide of his tongue against his own and whimpers. His hands find Zihao’s shoulders, holding on to him as desire lights his body up so fast, it makes his head spin. He blindly pushes closer, bringing their bodies flush together, and feels Zihao’s hard on against his thigh, throbbing hot under a thin layer of his pants.
The next second Zihao’s knees hit the tiled floor with a thud. Suren winces at the thought of them bruising heavily, but at the same time it excites him even more. They’re both impatient, too pent up from barely having space and time for anything more than a brush of hands against each other, a quick dry kiss late at night before parting to go to their own rooms. Having almost an hour to themselves now feels like a heavenly gift.
Zihao tugs his shorts and underwear down in one go, and Suren sharply sucks a breath in through his teeth as cold air hits the flushed skin and his cock slaps against his stomach. Zihao licks his lips, already close to drooling, as if just a thought of sucking Suren off made him salivate, and closes them around the head without a second thought. He tongues at the slit, then slides a little further and backs away until only the tip is resting on his lower lip before looking up at Suren with glistening eyes. He knows that look very well.
Zihao sits back on his heels as he leans on the wall with one hand and thrusts in slowly, testing the waters. Zihao’s jaw goes slack right away, taking him in easily. Suren pushes in deeper, more surely, until he hits the back of Zihao’s throat. He gags a little, but only tightens his lips around Suren’s cock as a silent sign to stay where he is. Suren thrusts another time, then again, and Zihao relaxes more, letting him in easier. As the pace quickens, Zihao brings his hands behind the back and clasps them together, leaving himself at Suren’s mercy. It only spurs Suren on, making him forget for a moment that they’re in a dormitory of a show. He bites his lip, pushing as deep as possible, feeling Zihao’s throat constrict, and pauses there. Zihao’s eyes start watering. He doesn’t pull off.
Suren brings another hand to his hair, tangling it in his fingers, and then tugs sharply, making Zihao’s head snap back and his cock slip out. Zihao squeezes his eyes shut at the sting, but doesn’t move from his position, keeps his mouth open nice and wide. Suren smirks, «Good,» as he leans down, almost levelling with Zihao, and spits right between his parted lips. He covers them with his own right away, swallowing Zihao’s surprised moan and bullying his tongue in. As they part, Zihao gasping for air, overwhelmed, with saliva all over his lips and chin, Suren takes his hand and pull him up.
«Let’s move to the shower,» he adds, walking backwards, holding Zihao’s gaze, his pupils blown out.
They didn’t bring any lube here, thinking that they’ll be able to keep their hands to themselves until there is a break in filming. Obviously they really overestimated their ability to abstain. Suren expects to simply jerk each other off in the shower, as they undress fully, but he gets surprised by Zihao pushing him face first against a wall. So he wasn’t as out of it as it seemed.
He cages him in from behind, and his bare skin is fiery hot against Suren’s. Zihao kisses up his neck, biting down the skin of his nape slightly.
Zihao drips some shower gel on his hand before sliding it between Suren’s thighs, lathering the skin up in slippery bubbles. Suren is confused for a second before it clicks and he subconsciously presses his legs closer. That’s where it’s going.
«If only we were at your place,» Zihao forces out, trying to keep his voice low, the walls ridiculously thin, «so we could go all the way. You’d open your legs so nicely for me, wouldn’t you, baby?»
It’s like all air is suddenly stolen from Suren’s lungs, and he presses his burning face to the cold shower wall, unbidden images appearing in his mind. That control he had just minutes ago is rapidly slipping away, but he’s okay with it.
Zihao pushes in between his thighs, one hand fitting right in the curve of Suren’s waist, squeezing tightly, fingers of another digging into the meat of his ass, spreading him open as he watches his dick slip in further just a little below. Suren feels his hard length slide against his balls, nudging his own cock.
«I’d stretch you open on my tongue first, then on my fingers,» he doesn’t stop, suggestive words falling from his mouth freely. «Would do it until you’re drooling and pleading for my cock. You sound so pretty when you beg.»
Suren shivers, adjusting his position; he arches his back more, brings his knees together.
He’s fighting for air, and still tries to reply, «Wish you could fuck me properly now.»
Zihao reaches around, takes him in his hand, jerking him off in time with his own thrusts. Suren’s already close, whining at the added stimulation. It takes only a couple more pulls and a twist of Zihao’s wrist, and he comes, clamping his mouth shut, biting down on his fingers. Maybe he tastes blood, but he’s not sure.
Zihao’s moves grow erratic too. Suren’s feeling selfish today. He wants all of Zihao to himself.
Suren turns around to face him and slithers down, looking up at Zihao from where he’s kneeling. His mouth drops open, tongue lolling out. He watches through hooded eyes as Zihao groans and starts to fist his cock, not breaking the eye contact. As his orgasm hits him, white ropes land on Suren’s tongue, his cheeks, nose. He licks it all up, swallowing the salty bitterness down. It settles something clawing up inside him, like satiating the need for closeness for the time being.
Zihao turns the water on and slides down next to Suren. He brings his hand up and swipes his fingers over Suren’s cheek, removing the stray drops of cum.
«So, hi,» he smiles, leaning his head against the wall. «Did you miss me that much?»
«Didn’t you?» Suren throws back, angling closer. Their lips almost touch, but not quite.«Of course,» Zihao hums. «We need to hold on a little more, and then nobody will be able to separate us.»
Suren frowns, unwanted thoughts coming back online after being pushed out by physical cravings.
«But what if…»
«No what ifs,» Zihao cuts him off. «You’re making it, and I’m making it. Trust me.»
Suren has nothing to say to that, and he doesn’t want to waste their precious time on arguing about something that they can’t really control. He just kisses Zihao, sealing all their hopes and dreams in between them.