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Xinlong can’t sleep.
It's 2am and his eyes are blinking awake again, a permanent state of unrest haunting him as he tries to enter his usual deep slumber. The empty space beside him on the mattress certainly doesn’t help.
The dorm is eerily quiet, both on his level and and level below him. Throughout the day there had been no shuffling, no boisterous laughter or the beeping sound of their passcode being entered as the inhabitants that live a level down let themselves in. Well, mostly Sanghyeon, but that’s besides the point.
The reason lies in the fault of their company, as Anxin who is currently stranded in Shanghai, had told him in a voice too loud to be considered inconspicuous. Xinlong had quietly listened to the younger boy rant about their company’s incompetence. He had known that there was nothing that could be done to fix the issue with their visas, so complaining about it as the member who holds the most experience in the group seemed petulant at the time; childish.
Presently deprived of sleep and feeling incredibly alone, he finds himself blaming Wakeone.
His thoughts slip. Suddenly he’s back in the corner of a practice room, sweat sticking his shirt to his back, Geonwoo’s long fingers threaded through his shorter ones. “I can’t wait to experience Paris with you,” Geonwoo had whispered to him, excitement making his eyes all sparkly. His promise is now cold, dead and empty. But no, it isn’t Geonwoo’s fault that they couldn’t be there together this time around. Stupid management.
Xinlong presses a pillow over his head and whines, screwing his eyes shut. God, he wants to cuddle with his boyfriend, like right now. Wants to be held, wants Geonwoo to press butterfly kisses into his hairline and bid him goodnight in that soft voice that makes him feel all giddy.
Stop it. He chides himself, huffing.
What is he, a kid? He doesn’t remember ever being this childish, not even in his teenage years when idol life forbade him from seeing his mom.
He throws the pillow off. Xinlong shifts on to his side, hiking his blanket up to his shoulders. The position shift would be his next attempt at actually getting some sleep, but it poses an even bigger threat. His gaze naturally settles on the nightstand, the blank screen on his phone tempting. His hands have been itching for it for hours.
One call. Xinlong could call Geonwoo and they could talk to each other. It’s nothing compared to speaking to him face to face, having Geonwoo’s physical body in his presence, but it would be better than nothing.
Except, Xinlong doesn’t want to sound needy.
He’s probably so busy, the voice in his mind nags. Geonwoo hasn’t sent you a text all day, which can only mean that he’s swamped. He doesn’t have time to entertain your selfish need for attention.
Yes. What time would it be in Paris? About six-ish pm. They’re probably having dinner under those gorgeous, twinkling lights the city of love has to offer. It would be selfish of him to disturb Geonwoo, when he’s most likely just sat down for dinner with the other members after a tiring day.
Xinlong is doing the right thing. He’s being a considerate boyfriend by not bothering Geonwoo. It’s not like being apart from Geonwoo for a few days would kill him.
The wardrobe door gapes open. There are some rustling sounds before his hands clinch on something soft, with a familiar weight. The scent that it carries is unmistakable, like fresh laundry and softener. Xinlong recognises it immediately. Not Sanghyeon’s, it's one of Geonwoo’s hoodies.
One of his personal favorites, the one with the white embroidered lettering over the left breast. He loves the way this shade of blue looks on Geonwoo, bringing out his handsome features like the color had been personally created for him.
He stares down at it, something tugging in his chest. The fluffiness of the fabric calls out to him. Geonwoo wouldn’t mind right? After all, he had already lent it to him once, personally adjusting the sleeves to cover his ice-bitten hands like he wanted to bury Xinlong in his hoodie, while Xinlong protested that he didn’t need it through chattering teeth.
But that's such a depraved thing to do. So Xinlong folds in the sleeves and gets ready to stuff it back into the drawer, along with the urge to slip it on and face the monster of neediness he’s been avoiding all day.
He casts one final, longing look at the hoodie sitting at the top of the pile, his little teeth worrying his bottom lip until it plumps up, red and shiny.
Xinlong decides then— fuck it. He can allow himself one thing. He snatches up the hoodie greedily, bunching up the sides to slip it over his head, the looseness of it making it easy for the garment to fall into place without struggle. He wriggles his arms into the sleeves, tugging the cuffs over his palms. The hoodie hangs off him, oversized, falling near his mid-thigh where his shorts end.
The relief is immediate, almost like a weighted blanket draped over his slight frame. The tightness in his chest fades. Even though the hoodie is large, much too big for someone as small as he is, he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning in it. Quite the opposite, actually. A soothing, gentle warmth cocoons him in, bundling him in safety as the tautness in spine begins to unfurl.
He can smell the softener, comforting notes woven into the hoodie, but it isn’t close enough. Xinlong needs more.
Before shame can force him to rip the hoodie off, he reaches for the collar with trembling fingers. The collar normally fits just fine on Geonwoo, but on Xinlong, it hangs just a bit lower, exposing his bare collarbones. An image pops up in his head, Geonwoo’s mouth latched onto the sensitive skin there, sucking fervently while Xinlong throws his head back with a silent moan. Xinlong shivers. He grips onto the collar and brings it up to his face, inhaling shakily.
He’s aware that the act that he’s committing may appear as weird, possibly perverse behavior to anyone else, but he can’t bring himself to care. Rather, now that he has started, Xinlong doesn’t think he can stop.
Yes, yes, yes.
Clean linen and a more subtle note underneath that he had missed earlier hits him at once, the smell of Geonwoo’s minty soap filling his lungs. It’s fading, barely there, only but a lingering fragrance without its owner. Unsurprisingly, the imitation of human warmth, unmistakable grounding scent, and the soft hoodie brushing against his skin doesn’t even come close to the real thing.
Yet, it feels—
It feels like Geonwoo is right here in this room with him, wrapping him in his embrace.
He blinks away the wetness in his eyes rapidly, face burning and nose stinging. A telltale sign that he’s about to cry. He fails to stop tears from welling up in his eyes, heavy like a foreshadowing of a storm. The rhythm of his breathing breaks after the first watery sniffle pushes out of his throat, coming out in a mix of jagged gasps and whimpers.
He attempts to muffle it into the collar of the hoodie, breathing in the cotton like an animal as it soaks up the tears on his face. He inhales deeper, deeper, until the wound in his chest reopens and it hurts like his lungs had been perforated.
Xinlong misses Geonwoo so terribly that he thinks he’s falling apart.
They’ve never been this far apart since debut. Between chaotic, jam packed schedules and quiet moments shared in practice rooms after everyone else had left, they always found each other. Hands tangling in the dark when no one was watching, kisses on the cheek, forehead and lips to seal the deal. Xinlong had taken that constant for granted, relishing in the privilege of having Geonwoo in his orbit.
Another sob escapes him, the hollow emptiness of the room swallowing him whole.
“Long long?”
Light spills into the room from the living area to reveal Jiahao standing in the doorway, hair tousled and eyes squinted from having just woken up. Xinlong stares up at him with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, looking so incredibly pitiful swamped in the hoodie he’s wearing. His bottom lip wobbles in spite of shock, probably not expecting to be caught like this. Jiahao catches sight of the hoodie he’s wearing and sighs.
He crosses the room in a few steps, gently pulling Xinlong into his chest. The moment Xinlong’s face makes contact with his shoulder, the dam bursts again, hot tears soaking into Jiahao’s shirt. Jiahao runs his hands up and down Xinlong’s back in soothing motions.
“Why are hiding in here all alone to cry, long long?” He scolds softly.
Honestly, Jiahao had figured something was up with Xinlong. Ever since the rest of the members had parted ways at the airport, majority of them flying to Paris and with Xinlong and himself heading back to their dorms in Korea, Xinlong has been acting strange. He’s been oddly distracted, like his heart is somewhere else when they’re hanging out. Jiahao had suspected that Xinlong’s moping kitty behavior has something to do with a certain 183cm Korean member, and judging by the hoodie Xinlong has on, his guess hadn’t been too far off.
Jiahao isn’t good with words. He much prefers playing a passive listener role rather than actively offering advice. Still, it breaks his heart to see his didi crying like this.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He gets a hiccup in response, but it isn’t a no. Jiahao takes it as permission to guide Xinlong to the sofa, making sure he’s comfortable and placing a plush cushion in his lap. He grabs the tissues, Xinlong taking them with a whispered murmur of thanks.
Under the mellow glow of ambient lighting, wet tracks shine down Xinlong’s cheeks, the skin around his eyes dappled in red. Jiahao sits by him, quietly watching, patiently waiting until he’s ready. The clock ticks in the living room. As the minute hand travels a few rounds round the clock face, the sniffling dwindles and Xinlong finally manages a full sentence.
“I don’t know, ge. I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”
He sounds so helpless, so utterly confused. Xinlong tucks his knees to his chest and under the safety of the hoodie, burrowing deeper.
“Hyung is just gone for a few days. He’ll definitely be back, yet I-” he trails off, choking on a sob, a fresh onslaught of tears falling as he wipes at them harshly. “I don’t think I can wait without being a bother to him. Hao ge, I just miss him so much. ”
It hits Jiahao then that this may be Xinlong’s first time falling in love with someone after sacrificing his entire childhood to the idol industry, the effect of never being given the chance to explore the possibility of having crushes, dating and inevitably falling in love like any other regular teenager clearly having left its mark. Xinlong had lived nearly his entire life believing that love is conditional, that attention is only warranted when you devote your entire body and soul in exchange, not because you simply exist and matter to someone.
“Oh long long, you’re allowed to miss him. You are not a nuisance for wanting love, care and attention, you hear me? Especially from your boyfriend.”
Jiahao wraps his arms around Xinlong and lets him wail into his chest, his final defenses crashing down. At times like this, Jiahao is reminded that Xinlong is just a twenty year old kid forced to grow up too early.
Xinlong’s body goes slack in Jiahao’s grip, his sniffles transitioning into soft, open mouthed snores. His head droops on Jiahao’s shoulder, hoodie shrouded torso pressing into Jiahao’s side as the older boy brushes his ash brown curls away from his face. Even as he sleeps, the pout on his face only becomes more visible.
Jiahao pulls out his phone camera. Snap.
Hao Ge
Image sent
Call your boyfriend
He cried because he missed you
read ✓
Wait
He’s so fucking cute
Okay. I will.
Stray Kids blasts through his phone speaker. Xinlong snatches up his phone, feet already padding towards the door. He was practically bouncing on his heels in excitement.
“Hao ge! Geonwoo called,” Xinlong beams.
After pouring his heart out to Jiahao yesterday night, he ended up crashing on the couch due to exhaustion. Jiahao had been too much of an angel to wake him, letting him curl up next to him as slumber took over his senses. They were just halfway through tofu stew and rice for breakfast when Xinlong had gotten a call from Geonwoo.
“Isn’t it midnight in Paris though?” Xinlong’s face twists, his smile fading.
He stares down at the lighted up screen doubtfully as Minho's voice carries through the lower floor dorm. An initial uplift in his mood is replaced by anxious teeth gnawing into his lower lip. Jiahao internally throws hands.
He fixes him with a look, chin resting in his palm. “Just pick up the phone, long long. Are you going to make him wait?”
“Right. I-uh,” Xinlong panics, face flushing pink. He glances at the door, then back at Jiahao. The grip he has on his phone tightens. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me?”
Ah, Xinlong wants to call Geonwoo in private.
Jiahao smirks, setting down his chopsticks with a clack. He crosses his arms.
“Sure. And I’ll stay here. If you need me.”
Xinlong clears his throat, hands trembling with a mish-mash of nerves and anticipation. He has to fight the urge to scream. They usually don’t find the need to call each other when they’re together most of the time, so the act of calling Geonwoo and listening to his tender voice over the phone still brings forth unnecessary jitters.
He hastily presses the answer button, lifting his phone to his ear.
“Hello?"
“Long-ah,” Geonwoo’s voice drifts from the speaker.
Xinlong’s shoulders instantly relaxed, like someone had undone the knot that had been tangled in his chest since he bid Geonwoo goodbye in the airport. The elevator arrives at his dorm level. He starts punching in the numbers on the keypad, albeit a bit hurriedly when there isn’t any reason to rush, his lips already curling up. When he closes the door behind himself, suddenly everything feels a lot more private.
“Hyung.”
“I missed you,” they say at the same time, their voices clashing.
The coincidence, the fact that they were both thinking the same thing in that moment— breaks any remaining tentativeness between them, both of them spilling into a fit of giggles that swirl and layer over the line. Geonwoo always knows what Xinlong is about to say. It's nice to know that distance doesn’t change the frequency of their telepathic abilities.
Xinlong wipes a tear from his eye that slipped out when he was laughing. “How is Paris?”
Geonwoo sighs dramatically to humor Xinlong. “Paris is beautiful. I wish you could’ve seen the way the lights glitter at night in person. The photos I sent you don’t do it justice. I honestly can see why they call it the city of love.” Xinlong can’t help the way his chest tightens at how wistful Geonwoo sounds. Had Xinlong’s absence hit Geonwoo as hard as Geonwoo’s had hit him? Geonwoo continues. “I also ate a huge croissant in front of the eiffel tower. It was flaking everywhere.”
“You got scammed, didn’t you?” Xinlong accuses, failing to suppress a giggle. Geonwoo gasps, pretending to take offence.
“What? Me? Never.”
Xinlong laughs at that. Geonwoo definitely got scammed, everyone knows that the croissants being sold right in front of the Eiffel Tower are obviously a tourist trap, but knowing Geonwoo, he would’ve bought it without a second of doubt. For someone who is an extreme ‘T’ as his personality results would suggest, Geonwoo makes a surprisingly easy target for scams.
Xinlong flops down on his bed, deciding then that lying down while calling his boyfriend would be much more comfortable. He stretches his limbs out on the mattress with a small groan like a cat, rolling onto his belly.
“Geonwoo hyung, what are you doing right now?”
“Missing you,” Geonwoo murmurs without missing a beat like the words had already been sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting for Xinlong’s permission to be let out.
Then in a lower voice, “I miss you so much, bao bao.”
Bao bao. Xinlong had taught him the word himself, but he never taught Geonwoo to say it like that. Honestly, it’s unfair how… hot his boyfriend sounds when he says it. It almost sounds like Geonwoo is saying it like that on purpose to rile him up, like he knows Xinlong secretly likes it but will never admit it. Xinlong bites his lip, pressing his thighs together instinctively. He tries to ignore the way his core pulses in response.
“Xinlong bao bao, I’ve been so lonely without you,” Geonwoo whispers. Xinlong can almost feel his warm breath hitting the shell of his ear. A shiver runs down his spine.
“Hyung I-”
“Are you alone right now?”
Geonwoo’s question catches him off guard. The dorm is quiet, no one else is in there and the door is locked. Xinlong gulps audibly, the room suddenly becoming unbearably hot.
“...Yeah,” he eventually replies after a hesitant pause. He feels like he’s speaking through a mouthful of cotton. “I’m alone. Hao Ge is downstairs.”
“Good. That’s good,” Geonwoo exhales, and it sounds like relief. He quickly adds, “Me too.”
“Oh.”
Xinlong doesn't know what to do with that information, or the appropriate way to respond. He turns pink, the skin of his bare thighs rubbing together when his shorts hike up.
“Long-ah, I wish I could touch you right now.”
An involuntary, breathy moan leaves his mouth at the suggestion embarrassingly fast. Xinlong shuts his eyes immediately, mortified at himself. What the fuck did he just do. Weirdly enough, Geonwoo doesn’t seem to mind at all, because he continues talking like Xinlong didn’t just moan into his ear.
“God, you’re so sexy. So cute for me, my bao bao.”
Geonwoo's voice darkens, growing thick with an undertone that Xinlong recognises as lust. He makes a small noise in his throat, not daring to speak. Every inch of skin feels like it's being licked with fire, burning a path down a whole new level of horniness that he’s unlikely to be able to escape from.
The next line that Geonwoo delivers carries a nervous inflection that gives him away. Looks like Xinlong isn’t the only one new to whatever game this is that they’re playing.
“If…If I were in your room with you right now, what would I do?”
Xinlong opens his mouth, closes. He’s at a loss for words, his pussy throbbing so hard that it's hard to think.
“Can you describe it to me, bao bao?”
“I- I think,” Xinlong swallows, squeezing his eyes shut again. He forces himself to imagine Geonwoo sitting beside him. No. That isn't right. Geonwoo standing in front of him, gazing down at him with hunger glittering in his eyes as he slowly presses Xinlong back into the mattress, until he’s caging him against it. “I think you’re above me as I’m lying down on the bed, your hands are on either side of my head. One of your knees, is- hah—”
Xinlong allows his voice to break off with gasp, flushing fiercely.
“One of my knees is doing what?”
“Your knee…. It’s pressed in between my thighs, forcing me to keep them open,” he whispers, goosebumps prickling his skin like a fever. “I’m trying to close them because- because it's embarrassing. But you won’t let me.”
It's Geonwoo’s turn to let out a low, breathy moan. There is a sound of fabric chafing, maybe skin rubbing against fabric, possibly Geonwoo palming himself through his sweats. The visual of him doing exactly that in Xinlong’s head sends his mind into a frenzy, a small patch of wetness blooming through the front of his shorts.
His fingers fumble to do the same, to get himself off the way Geonwoo’s is doing it, but before he can properly reach down, he pauses, hand hovering mid air. He suddenly gets this horribly filthy idea. Under normal circumstances, Xinlong isn’t brave enough to use it to his advantage, but the fact that he knows that it will drive Geonwoo over the edge is enough to imbue him with courage.
He pulls his fingers back, opting to let his hands twist into the sheets instead, pretending like there’s an invisible force clamping down on both his wrists to keep them from moving. Geonwoo’s hands, gripping tight, unrelenting. Xinlong lets out a whine, high and heedy and helpless, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Hyungie,” he cries. “Please let me touch myself. I’ve been so good.”
Geonwoo must’ve gone still, because there isn’t any other sound other than him panting heavily over the phone. Xinlong imagines his throat bobbing hungrily, wanting nothing but too strip Xinlong bare and fuck him into the sheets until he forgets how to speak.
“Gege,” Xinlong pleads again, pussy dripping with impatience.
“Shit,” Geonwoo curses under his breath. “Go ahead and touch yourself, baby.”
Xinlong whimpers again, reaching back down past his waistband. He rubs himself through his panties, the dull pleasure making him gasp out in relief. When he’s had enough, he shimmies his garments down past his hips, letting them rest over his thighs. His pussy glistens, the small pink bead shivering when it comes into contact with cool air, his entrance contracting in anticipation.
He doesn’t waste any more time, pressing a finger in with a wince. The copious amount of precum he had produced makes the slide easier than he expected, allowing him to insert more short, stubby fingers in. By the time he has three fingers in his pussy, the burn of the stretch yanks him back into full consciousness.
“You’re doing so good for me, bao bao. So perfect.”
Geonwoo moans in his ear, gorgeous voice spurring him to start thrusting his fingers in. Pleasure builds in his belly, his release so close yet so far. Xinlong curls his fingers repeatedly, trying to reach that spot that he’s so sure Geonwoo would be able to find easily with those long, slender fingers of his. He tries shoving his fingers in faster, deeper, but fails to reach his g-spot every time.
A cry tears from his throat in frustration. He buries his nose into Geonwoo’s hoodie, taking in the clean scent to help himself to come down. It’s no use, Geonwoo’s scent is almost gone as a result of Xinlong wearing it for hours. Great. He can’t reach an orgasm on his own because of his stupid, short fingers, and now he’s wrung Geonwoo’s hoodie dry of his scent.
Can he do anything right for once?
“What’s wrong, Long-ah? Tell hyung what’s wrong,” Geonwoo’s voice bleeds with concern.
“I can’t– I can’t reach it!” Xinlong bursts into tears, oversensitive. “My fingers- my fingers are too short, gege. I need you. I need you.”
“It’s okay, baby. Shh…. It’s okay.”
Xinlong hiccups, using the cuffs of Geonwoo’s hoodie sleeves to swipe at his eyes. He hates it when he cries and gets all pathetic like this. He goes into this hyperventilating mode that makes him look like a kid, stumbling over his words like he had on debut night when he had been overwhelmed by emotion. Yet somehow, with Geonwoo's voice gently soothing him without a shred of judgement, he doesn’t feel alienated at all.
“Long-ah, could you try riding your pillow? I want both of us to feel good. Could you try for me, please?”
“Okay,” Xinlong says, tears staining his face but no longer crying. “Okay.”
He pulls his fingers out of himself, the emptiness leaving him gaping and clenching down around nothing. He grabs one of his pillows, slotting it in between his thighs and sits down with a sigh. The cotton sheets are comfortable against his throbbing pussy, the stuffing moulding around his ass. His hips start rocking back and forth with desperation, the friction startling him with how good it feels, each drag of his clit against the pillow eliciting a soft moan from him.
“Ngh- Are you touching yourself now, gege?” he dares to ask through another sweet moan, rolling his hips in circular motions.
“Yes. God. You sound amazing,” Geonwoo rasps back, gasping.
“It feels so good. My pussy is so wet, I’m making a mess.”
Xinlong pouts, thinking about all the cleaning up he’s going to have to do later. He is really wet, maybe even more than before, juices spilling and leaking into the pillow beneath him. The pleasure starts to build again below his core, his lower half tensing as it hints at an impending release, thighs burning at how much effort he’s putting into humping his pillow. Xinlong wishes that it were a bit firmer, like real muscle, preferably the kind he’s seen on Geonwoo’s thighs lately from all those extra gym sessions he’s been attending.
Oh god, if he was riding Geonwoo’s thigh instead…
He starts humping his pillow faster, debauched moans and whimpers spilling from his lips, chasing his high. His entire body feels hot, specifically his abdomen.
“Are you close, bao bao?”
Geonwoo groans. He’s close too.
“I’m going to cum, gege,” Xinlong whimpers, clenching the edge of the pillow so tight that his knuckles turn white. At this point, he’s loud enough that he figures that setting the phone down to the side isn’t a problem. He keeps grinding down hard and fast, the hand he isn’t using to ground himself roaming his chest and fondling his chest through Geonwoo’s hoodie.
The last thing Xinlong remembers hearing is, “Cum for me, bao bao. Make a mess of yourself,” before his vision whites out, eyes rolling back and back arching as he cums hard into the pillowcase. A mind-numbing, toe curling orgasm shocks through his veins with the tenacity of something electric. Geonwoo’s moans, the sound of cum splattering ringing in his ears.
Xinlong falls forward, collapsing bonelessly on the bed. The ruined pillow is still wedged between his thighs, sticky and misshapen from all the rough housing. For a moment, they lie there, eight hours apart with their breaths aligning.
Geonwoo breaks the silence, letting out a soft chuckle first.
“You did so good, Long-ah.”
Xinlong giggles, slightly giddy from freshly coming down from his high. “You too hyung,” he says back.
“Aw, no more calling me gege?” Geonwoo teases.
Xinlong goes red in the face, resisting the urge to punch his pillow. It seems like Geonwoo is waiting, because he doesn’t speak for a moment. Finally, Xinlong pulls himself together enough. “Gege,” he mumbles, sinking into the neckline of Geonwoo’s hoodie. “There. I said it. Don’t tease me.”
They spend a few minutes enjoying each other’s company. Naturally, Geonwoo has to go because he hasn’t slept and Xinlong insists that he doesn’t want to be the reason for Geonwoo’s fatigue later. Geonwoo whines about it, of course, but concedes just as easily since it's Xinlong asking him.
“Fine. But only because you said so.”
Xinlong laughs, imagining Geonwoo’s cheeks puffing up and arms crossed over his broad chest. His boyfriend is so cute. Geonwoo’s about to end the call when Xinlong stops him, remembering something.
“I um,” he glances apologetically at the hoodie he’s still wearing, feeling bad. The front is slightly soiled with his juices from earlier, the hood also dirty from soaking up his tears and possibly some snot.
“I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your hoodie and was wearing it just now, you know…when I was on the phone with you doing… Anyway, it got a bit dirty! But I’ll wash it and put it back, I promise.”
Geonwoo falls silent. Xinlong chews on his inner cheek in the meantime, heart racing in his chest, preparing himself for any kind of negative response.
“You were wearing my hoodie, while touching yourself?” Geonwoo says slowly, as if confirming if he had heard Xinlong correctly.
Xinlong’s heart drops to his stomach. He decides to answer truthfully.
“Yeah. And when I was humping my pillow. I had it on the whole time I was on the phone with you,” he admits, guilt eating him up from the inside.
Another pause.
Geonwoo swears, “Fuck. You have no idea what you do to me. Has anyone told you how delectable you are?”
Oh. Geonwoo is not mad. Geonwoo liked it. Liked that he was wearing his hoodie, fabric swallowing his frame as he played with himself to Geonwoo’s voice.
“You know what? We have to do this again, you wearing my hoodie as I fuck you until you're begging for me to stop.” Geonwoo sounds dead serious about it, which only makes things worse.
“Hyung,” Xinlong whines through a blush, hiding his face in his hands. “Go to sleep.”
“Okay, I will. But I know what I said,” Geonwoo mumbles sleepily. “Have a good day, bao bao. Call me if you miss me, alright? Don’t deal with it alone anymore.”
“Promise. Good night, gege. Sweet dreams.”