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Changkyun’s voice is indescribable.
You could use frilly language, with cliché romancey words and long flowing paragraphs, yada yada blah blah blah – it’s hot okay. It’s hot. Changkyun’s voice is low and rumbly, just barely raspy, and beyond sexy when he’s half-awake. Water is wet, fire is hot, Chankyun’s voice is deep enough to swim in.
Well, um, dur. His voice is the reason he got a spot in No Mercy so late in the game – it’s the reason he’s in MX, up here, on stage, rapping next to Jooheon like he was meant to be there.
Since Hoseok became a trainee, he’s been surrounded by wonderful voices. Loud ones, soft ones. Fluid solos, rumbly baritones. A good voice, for so long, was a bad thing. It was competition.
But they’re past that. They’re past No Mercy and grudges and comparing themselves to every other trainee in the room.
So Hoseok notices. More things, that is. Good, bad, and how deep Changukun’s pipes are.
They’ve been living together for two years, but it took 365 days for Hoseok to actually pay attention to what Changkyun says at 6:30 in the morning – and it’s been all downhill from there.
When Changkyun wakes up, he brushes his teeth with his bristly old toothbrush, and patters into the living room for breakfast along with everyone else – you know, sleepy eyes, bedhead and all.
But he’ll mutter a “G’morning hyung,” and it sounds absolutely terrible. Like the words have been run through a blender, crushed in the garbage disposal, ground up like meat.
And it’s really, really, really hot.
Hoseok had stood there, blinking, shirtless and absolutely turned on beyond human comprehension.
So once he noticed, he never uh, stopped noticing. How low and pretty Changkyun’s voice is. And, you know how life goes. You notice one thing? You notice a hundred.
Next it’s his hair. Soft, Hoseok notes, as Changkyun sits in his lap during movie night, like the routine it is. Soft, soft.
He’s got pretty hands too – and his doe eyes – his laugh – his legs-
Fuck Changkyun. Metaphorically, physically, whatever.
2016 truly is the year of realizing things, because Hoseok learns a lot during Fighter promotions. The team works through some stuff, it’s all good in the end.
They’re at an awards show, sitting around backstage, waiting for their call. Shownu is passed the fuck out on the couch, but Minhyuk is doing a mighty fine job of keeping the rest of the maknaes thoroughly entertained – some magic trick with a cup, or whatever.
Except, Changkyun isn’t exactly paying attention. He’s playing with the cuff of his jacket, picking off a stray thread. He looks good, baggy army jacket, ripped jeans and all. His eyelashes are really fucking long, brushing his skin with every blink.
“How’d the Vlive go?”
It takes Hoseok a moment to realize that Changkyun is talking to him.
“Huh? Good.”
“I saw you film Shownu sleeping. Manager is gonna’ yell at you,” Changkyun smiles, resting his head in his hand. God, if Changkyun could just- stop being such a soft bean, Hoseok could fucking sleep at night. Hardcore rapper my ass.
“Probably,” Hoseok shrugs. His big fat mouth says, “But hey, when are they not yelling at me.”
Changkyun frowns. He kicks Hoseok from under the card table they’re sitting at, fancy leather shoes probably scuffing. “Are they still giving you shit for Sorry Sorry?”
“No,” Hoseok lies. “It’s fine.”
Changkyun looks good when he’s not smiling, but that’s not to say he doesn’t look better when he is. So, Hoseok kicks him back, and mirrors his position, head in his hand. He winks, and Changkyun’s surprised puppy-look makes something warm stir in Hoseok’s gut.
But, Changkyun’s voice lowers, to be unheard by Seventeen as they scuff around behind them. He leans close, tone low, “Hyung, we told you we’ve got your back.”
Hoseok is supposed to be the confident sex symbol, but for a solid second, Hoseok forgets who he is. He swallows, tongue sticking to his teeth as he struggles for the words, “It’s, um-“
“I’m going to write better songs,” Changkyun says. “Better songs, better choreography than Sorry Sorry. They’ll never talk shit again.”
He sounds serious – looks serious too, like Hoseok is something precious. Hoseok can take the heat - has taken the heat, but the fact that Changkyun cares-
Hoseok forces out a laugh, heart beating in his ears. Minhyuk is giggling with Hyungwon – Jooheon has decided to curl up under Shownu’s arm, Kihyun is-
Changkyun squeezes his wrist, something meant to be comforting, before he stands up at the call of Monsta X to stage three.
The whole exchange leaves Hoseok tripping, and way too flustered.
That’s really the start of Hoseok ’s downfall, in all honesty.
He notices Changkyun’s wide vocal range all the time – but more so, the times he lowers his tone. Be it sleepy goodmornings, late night questions or hushed secrets. Sometimes he’s just tired – sometimes not – but it’s distracting.
Actually, it stops Hoseok in his tracks, every goddamn time.
Hoseok can thank his lucky fucking stars that Changkyun hasn’t noticed yet, because god, that’d be some mighty fine power he’d have over his hyung there.
Plus, it’s not allowed, right? They’re bandmates, no dating and all that. Hoseok is confident enough in his bisexuality to know a crush when he sees one, but Changkyun really should have an Off Limits sign flashing above his sweet fluffy head at all times. Unfortunately, Hoseok is a shit driver, and never really reads the instructions in cook books.
So when Changkyun goes in to record lines, Hoseok sits outside the studio, and accepts all the silly goosebumps that come with. Changkyun can rap, yeah, duh, but when he sings, low, just to harmonize with something Kihyun is probably belting – god, just take Hoseok to church right now.
You know, they’re good friends. It’s something Hoseok forgets about, when he’s listening to Changkyun laugh, like his voice doesn’t usually rest in the fifth circle of hell.
They’re really, really good friends. All of MX is, because they’ve been through way too much not to be. They’ve shared too many secrets, seen too many ugly sides to be considered beautiful anymore – but that’s beautiful in and of itself, so.
Hoseok is more or less a crier; he didn’t used to be, but excessive workouts, twelve hour practice days, nonstop tour schedules and thin diets like to stack up like a fat plate of pancakes, and Hoseok breaks more than he’d like to. They all do – but they do what they love, with people they love, so it’s okay.
More often than not, it’s Changkyun that reaches into Hoseok ’s personal space, and wipes away the tears that drip past his cheeks. It’s just a lot, you know? To look across the thousands of people that are here to see you. Despite everything, every scandal, every bad word.
The stage is warm from the lights, and the Monbebe’s love fills the room louder than their music does.
Jooheon and Minhyuk manage to lighten the mood, making the crowd laugh and chant, “Don’t cry Wonho ! Don’t cry Wonho !”
And Hoseok is trying, okay, he’s laughing at his own silly tears– but Changkyun is the one to reach up, a hand at his back, and sweetly wipe away the water with the soft skin of his knuckles. It’s hard to make out the “It’s okay Hyung,” being mumbled low into the thin air between them, but that’s probably the moment that Hoseok decides that he really, really likes Changkyun.
Hoseok ’s acting skills aren’t subpar; he grew up, went to highschool like everyone else. He knows how to hide feelings, more or less.
It’s just hard, when that night, Changkyun comes paddling into his room and pats at the edge of the comforter, asking for entrance.
And oh, yeah, this is normal, isn’t it? It’s easier to seek comfort in someone else’s bed, rather than your own –
Except Jooheon snores, Shownu has dibs on a squirmy Minhyuk, Hyungwon is a bed hog and Kihyun might just snap your arm if you try and grab the blankets.
Hoseok swallows, squinting in the darkness.
“Hyung?” Changkyun presses, fidgeting with the elastic on his pajama pants. Ah hell, Hoseok is cold anyways.
Hoseok moves over – Changkyun climbs in. The sheets wrestle, and there’s not exactly a shit ton of room in a twin bed, so their legs press together. Hoseok throws an arm over Changkyun’s waist, just to make a tad more room. Changkyun presses closer than he needs to, but Hoseok won’t complain.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Changkyun whispers – and dear lord, it’s rumbly. He throws an arm over Hoseok as well, hand tangling in the hem of Hoseok's tank top; the movement is confident, and it churns something in Hoseok’s gut. Changkyun sighs, “I was just thinking about you.”
Hoseok blinks, false confidence seeping through his words as he flirts, “Oh yeah?” There’s the sound of Hyungwon shifting in his bed, but Hoseok doesn’t worry about waking him.
Changkyun pokes into his side, “You cried today.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“Are you alright?”
Hoseok breathes a laugh, tipping his head to meet Changkyun’s eyes. They’re sharing a pillow now.
“I think you’re more upset than I am.”
Changkyun shifts, teeth chewing on his bottom lip, eyes almost unreadable in the darkness. His fingers slip beneath Hoseok's tank top, and Hoseok jumps at how cold they are.
“Sorry,” Changkyun mumbles. “I don’t like it when you cry.”
Hoseok smiles, lightly nudging him with his knee. His chest glows warm, and he probably shouldn’t push back Changkyun’s bangs – he shouldn’t press closer, he shouldn’t close his eyes – but he does, and he says, “I sleep a lot better knowing you care.”
He doesn’t see Changkyun smile, but he knows he is, because Changkyun’s fingernails curl into the skin of his lower back. His voice drops lower, and Hoseok feels goosebumps rise, “We all care.”
“I know.”
“We need a vacation.” Changkyun decides.
Hoseok can’t hide his grin, “Yeah.” He exhales, and they’re close enough that Changkyun can probably feel it – Hoseok tilts his hips away, hiding the movement with a slight fidget, “Where do you want to go?”
“Norway,” Changkyun answers.
Hoseok laughs, “Norway?”
“Yeah, like. Sweden and Finland and stuff.”
Hoseok smothers his laugh into the pillow, and feels Changkyun jostle him in retaliation. “W-ahah- why? What about the Bahamas, or L.A., or literally anywhere else?”
Changkyun shrugs, “It seems quiet. And pretty. Have you ever seen pictures?”
“I’m sure I have.”
“I’ll show you tomorrow,” Changkyun whispers, when Hyungwon shifts again. “It’s pretty. BTS went on a vacation there.”
“Go join BTS then,” Hoseok teases, and hides another laugh when Changkyun pretends to snap and bite at his arm.
“Go to sleep,” Changkyun says. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“I was already awake,” Hoseok shrugs, but does tuck his face into the divot of Changkyun’s chest, and tightens his arm around his warm body. Unsurprisingly, Hoseok sleeps well, lulled by steady breathing.
He decides not to think. He doesn’t think about how nice Changkyun’s hands are, or how beautiful his voice is. He doesn’t think about how sweet he is – how soft and funny and good, so good, so pure. He doesn’t think about the guilt – about how he’s the hyung -
Hoseok just doesn’t. So he sleeps well.
Their maknae doesn’t act like a maknae.
Forced through societal expectations and reality T.V. shows, Changkyun is an adult. He struggles, just like the rest of them, to meet the ever growing bar of the idol world.
But there’s times, when in the company of each other, that Changkyun lets go. Where he’s the giggly, mischief self, where he swaps Jooheon’s orange juice with hot sauce, or comes barreling through the halls wrapped in blankets, shouting about movie night.
There’s something about Changkyun that brings out a better side of Hoseok. It’s their first evening in weeks that they’re home, practice ending at six p.m. rather than one in the morning. You’d think they’d skedaddle, trying for personal space – but there’s more comfort in piling on the couch, some sitting on the floor, putting on a drama and poking fun at it for the next hour and a half.
Changkyun sits next to Hoseok on the floor, stealing half of Hoseok's blanket. Hoseok playfully pulls back, until he eventually gives up, and lets Changkyun settle closer.
“Cute!” Minhyuk teases, reaching down from the couch to play with Changkyun’s messy hair.
“Hey,” Changkyun turns, hissing lightheartedly. “Knock it off.”
“God, when was the last time you showered?” Hyungwon reaches as well, pulling at the strands, and watching them stay.
“This morning!” Changkyun fights the hands, “It’s product from the makeup noonas.”
“My hair doesn’t do that.”
“You could make little horns,” Hoseok teases, reaching up as well, to shape his hair. Changkyun doesn’t fight him, but he does pout, looking more like a maknae than he ever did. “Cute,” he teases, and revels in the way Changkyun’s face turns pink.
“Shut up!” Jooheon kicks, “Shit is going down.”
“I honestly have no idea what’s happening anymore,” Shownu leans down to steal popcorn from Jooheon, eyes never leaving the television. “Are they related?”
“No! They’re star crossed lovers.”
Kihyun talks with his mouth full, pointing with the remote, “I think their siblings got married.”
“Oh,” Shownu blinks. “Isn’t that still incest?”
“No.” Jooheon barks, “It’s supposed to be romantic.”
“It sounds like more hetero bullshit to me,” Hoseok says, absolutely without thinking. He freezes, feeling Changkyun turn to look at him-
But Minhyuk sighs from the couch, “Sounds about right.”
“You both have the attention span of a hamster,” Jooheon waves them off, “I don’t expect either of you to understand.”
“I think their dog is cute,” Changkyun says, fixing his hair. “I’d marry the dog.”
“Oh my god, same.”
Jooheon laughs, “This is why we stopped doing movie night.”
“No, we stopped because you kept picking the movies.”
There’s dramatic yelling from the screen, lots of tears, as the girl throws some bracelet to the floor and runs away.
“Wow,” Hoseok says. “Oscar worthy.”
“Fuck off!” Jooheon laughs, reaching across Changkyun to slap his thigh, “You pick next time.”
“I will!”
“Hoseok hyung isn’t much better,” Changkyun says. He smirks, for fucks sake, “He likes kids movies.”
Hoseok pushes him, smiling, and Changkyun rolls onto his side with a laugh. He kicks into Hoseok’s side- but Hoseok grabs his foot, and nearly rips off his sock in the process of digging his thumb into Changkyun's arch.
Changkyun all but squeals, squirming to get away – but Hoseok grips his ankle, and pulls him closer.
“R-ahah- real mature!”
“Go for his knees!” Minhyuk cheers.
Hoseok feels his face burning from how wide he’s smiling, as he grips the back of Changkyun’s knees, and watches the way he arches off the ground with a squeal.
“Min- ahha- Min-minhyung,” Changkyun slurs, screeching, “What team are you on?”
Minhyuk cackles – Hoseok almost takes a knee to the face, but he manages to wrestle both his legs. Jooheon reaches over, big palms pressing into Changkyun’s shoulders to keep him still – and Changkyun screams.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Shownu says, but he’s smiling anyways.
Hoseok lets go, but he doesn’t look away. Changkyun is flushed from laughing, legs splayed in Hoseok’s lap, shorts ridden up high on his thighs. Hoseok feels his eyes glue to the skin there, before Changkyun sits up, wiping his face with his shirt.
“You’re all the worst,” Changkyun says, voice raspy from laughing. “All of you. No help.”
Kihyun shrugs, still going at the popcorn, “A lot of people would pay good money to have Wonho tickle them.”
Hoseok wiggles his fingers for emphasis, and Changkyun scrambles away like it’s The Exorcist. There’s laughter in the room – pats on the head from Hyungwon, shushes from Jooheon –
But Changkyun is staring at him, something odd swirling in his eyes. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, but his eyes sparkle with an unsaid smile.
Hoseok blinks, disoriented, as Changkyun all but winks, and rests back against the couch. He pulls his legs to his chest, and never tugs his shorts back down to his knees.
Changkyun might be catching on, and that’s only slightly horrifying.
They’re in the dance studio, when Changkyun comes up behind him, whispering a deep Boo! right against the shell of Hoseok’s ear – and Hoseok jumps, arms raising with goosebumps, a hot rush flipping in his gut.
He makes a low noise – Hoseok plays it off as a gasp, but something in Changkyun’s eyes tells him he knows.
“Such a scaredy cat, hyung,” Changkyun grins.
“Ass,” Hoseok says, rubbing at his arms. The movement attracts Changkyun’s eyes, and Hoseok feels his face heat.
“Why waste your time on Wonho hyung?” Minhyuk asks. “Jooheonie is more fun to scare.”
“Hey!”
Changkyun shrugs, swaying away, Timbalands scuffing against the floor. Hoseok rubs the back of his neck, still tingling from where Changkyun’s breath ghosted across.
Changkyun looks smug, and it doesn’t settle well in Hoseok’s gut.
And that’s only the beginning, really. Changkyun is a real piece of shit, because he gets cheeky. Dropping his tone during breaks, putting on a real act during awards shows. He dips lower than he ever did – rolls his body smoother than before. He oozes a sex vibe that wasn’t nearly as strong two months ago.
Hyung, hyung, hyung, he’ll say, late at night, voice raspy and tired.
Move over.
Hoseok can only jerk off in the shower so much, alright. He should feel bad, using his bandmate as source material, but the guilt just isn’t there. Call Hoseok a sinner, whatever, it’s all Changkyun’s fault. He keeps batting his pretty little eyelashes, throwing his voice around, soft and smooth.
Hoseok isn’t sure what he wants. He wants a lot of things, really. Success for their team, financial stability for his mom, the ability to throw their maknae over the edge of the kitchen sink and fuck him six ways to Sunday. Or the other way around, whatever, Hoseok is versatile.
So, Hoseok makes up his mind. If you can’t beat up, join ‘em, right?
Hoseok tugs down on the hem of his shorts as he passes by the manager, before pushing open the practice room door, and pulling the shorts back up. He knows it’s not exactly fair, but since when was this industry fair?
They’re jean shorts, frayed to be even shorter than they were before. Hoseok likes these – they were his Hoe shorts, back in the day.
Nobody really bats an eyelash; they walk around all but pantsless in the dorms – but Hoseok tugs on them a little bit more, palm splaying across the tattoo on his thigh.
And alas, he catches Changkyun’s eye.
He waves, “Good morning.”
“Hey.” Changkyun stares, “Why weren’t you at breakfast?”
“I had an interview,” Hoseok nods. He reaches above his head, ready to stretch along with the others. The edge of his shirt rides up- “Something for X-ray, or whatever. It didn’t take long.”
“That’s good…” Changkyun says, and it almost sounds distant.
“Yeah,” Hoseok grins. He reaches down to his toes, fingers splaying flat against the ground, “The manager is in one of his moods today. You should be careful.”
“Good to know,” Changkyun stares.
“Alright,” Shownu says, soft voice commanding their attention like a lighthouse. “Let’s get started.”
Hoseok stands back up, smoothing down his shirt with a smile, and clapping Changkyun on the back as he walks to the middle of the studio. Changkyun sways there, vaguely disoriented, and Hoseok counts it as a win.
There’s nothing more satisfying than the feel of Changkyun’s eyes. He’s a generally quiet person as it is – you know, unless they’re on some variety show, and his surprising charisma rises to give a good laugh.
Ah, again, his stare says a thousand words. They soften, when Jooheon slings an arm around his shoulders. They grow serious, when Shownu pats him on the back, and tells him good job –
But there’s nothing better than the liquidly, longing look that filters through his eyes, when Hoseok comes out of the shower, steam billowing behind him. They shimmer over at night, when he drops his voice low, and asks to share Hoseok’s bed once more.
They don’t talk about this – whatever they’re doing. It’s a dance, a back and forth, a game.
Changkyun grows braver, hooking his arm in his, giving fantastic fanservice at the signings. Hoseok retaliates tenfold during concerts, slapping his ass, squirming his fingers into soft sides.
God, they're going too far-
It’s too fun to stop.
The tension winds tighter and tighter each day. Twisting, coiling, like the spring mechanism in a music box. It ticks once, ready to snap, but not quite yet-
Hoseok walks through the Starship hallway, one hand in his sweat pocket, the other scratching at the mark on his side. Crop tops are nice in theory, but not ideal for protecting against carpet burns.
Hands, long and slender, scare the everloving shit out of him, by pushing at his hip, and making his feet stumble slightly.
“Ah-“ Hoseok breathes, off balance, as he’s pushed into a supply closet and forced against the wall.
A light switch clicks on –
Changkyun’s face comes into view. It’s such a pretty face, smooth and oddly mature. His eyes are narrowed; the palm on Hoseok’s chest burns.
“Kyun?” Hoseok stares- he looks around the closet. There’s a mop bucket digging into his calf, and a Swiffer that threatens to fall off the shelf.
“In thirty seconds, Hyungwon is going to come looking for us,” Changkyun says. The hand tightens into a fist, drawing Hoseok’s crop top up with it. “I have something to say.”
Hoseok tips his chin up, lips drawing up into a smirk. “Oh yeah?” He exhales, tilting his head, air tight between them. Changkyun’s eyes glance from his eyes, to his lips, and back.
“Yeah.” Changkyun props closer, leaning on his tiptoes to hover. His voice rumbles low, vibrating through Hoseok, making him lightly gasp. The light flickers above them.
“You,” he says, “have been driving me crazy.”
Hoseok stiffens, a chill running up and down his spine, as the words feel tangible.
“Changkyunnie? Wonho hyung?”
Changkyun smiles, smoothing down Hoseok’s shirt, before stepping out of the supply closet.
“Boo!”
“Changkyun!” Hyungwon jumps, hand over his heart, “God, you scared me.”
“Hahaha, you should’ve seen your face-“
“Wonho?” Hyungwon looks around, “You’re in there too?”
Hoseok puts on a smile, placing his hands in his pockets, “Haaa, we got you hyungwonnie~.”
Changkyun walks away, looking way too smug for Hoseok’s liking.
The music box winds just a little tighter.
Not yet.
“What the hell is going on with you two?”
“Huh?”
Minhyuk leans up against the door and scowls, “Don’t play dumb.”
The room is soft and silent, a distant city buzzing in the background. The windows are large, seeping in only moonlight. Minhyuk looks serious, black hair pushed back, bare face glowing in the darkness.
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hoseok shifts to roll over in the hotel bed. “Can you turn that light off? We have to get up early tomorrow.”
Minhyuk, in his rebellion, turns on more lights. Hoseok groans, rubbing his palms into his eyes, despite the distant screams of his dermatologist. “Ugh, what is it?”
“You and Kyun. Start talking, sweetheart.”
Hoseok rubs his nose sheepishly, “What do you mean?”
“I swear to god, Hoseok.”
“Alright, fine,” Hoseok sits up, “I don’t know, okay? We haven’t like, talked about anything.”
“You two flirt nonstop,” Minhyuk stresses. “Like, it’s getting gross, even for me.”
“We’re just playing around.”
“But you like him.”
The words sting a little. It’s weird, having them said out loud, just like that. It makes something clog in Hoseok’s throat – his eyes dry, and his heart feels heavy.
Yeah. He does like Changkyun.
Minhyuk’s face softens, and he crosses the short distance to sit next to Hoseok on the bed. He wraps an arm around his shoulders, “It’s okay.”
“Not really.”
“We’ve got your back,” Minhyuk nudges him. “What’s another secret to the deep dungeon of Starship?”
Hoseok laughs at that, rubbing at his dyed hair, pushing back the strands. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“Well…” Minhyuk shrugs, “You and Kyun are the happiest I’ve seen you both in a long time. I just need the tension to stop.”
Hoseok gives a cheeky smile, with no teeth and small dimples, “Oh?”
“Don’t give me that look. I swear to god, if you two have one more tickle fight I’m going to throw myself out the window.”
“I love you,” Hoseok laughs, flopping his head on Minhyuk’s shoulder. “You’re the best.”
Minhyuk playfully pushes at him, standing up to cross to his bed. “Yeah, whatever. It’d be hypocritical of me not to support you.”
Hoseok smiles, some unknown weight lifting off his shoulders.
The award show goes well. They don’t win anything, of course, but it was fun to participate. It’s become less about winning awards, and more about enjoying the atmosphere. It’s a new type of thinking – something that helps Hoseok sleep a lot better at night.
Other rookies slump away, fake smiles plastered – but as time turns, MX finds happiness in each other, and in the music they make.
So, in laymans terms, the award show goes well.
Hoseok is ready to collapse into his bed, and sleep for the next four hours until they board their redeye flight. His clothes are sticking to his back, button-up already halfway undone.
As soon as he gets in the room, he sheds his frock coat. The door opens behind him, and Hoseok doesn’t bother looking up. Minhyuk was probably saying goodnight to Shownu, or whatever-
“Hey.”
Hoseok jumps, turning around to look Changkyun in the eye.
“Huh?” Hoseok stares.
Changkyun throws his half-packed bag on the floor, and starts unbuttoning his shirt as well, “Minhyuk asked me to switch rooms with him. He said your snoring is keeping him up.”
Hoseok raises an eyebrow, shirt still halfway off, “Oh yeah?”
Changkyun chucks off his pants, “Yeah.”
“And you agreed to switch rooms?”
“Yeah.” Changkyun jumps as he slips on his sweatpants, “Cause I know you don’t snore.”
There’s a pregnant silence that fills the room. Hoseok slips on his pajama pants numbly, almost slowly, as his brain throbs. He feels Changkyun’s eyes. It’s almost awkward, but more overwhelming. They haven’t been alone since the closet incident -
Changkyun is silent as he patters into the bathroom. There’s the sound of a sink – of a toothbrush –
Hoseok sits on the edge of his bed, and runs his hands through his hair. Minhyuk is an asshole, Hoseok decides. A crafty asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.
When Changkyun comes back in, Hoseok sighs, pushing back his bangs, and looking Changkyun in the eye.
“Kyun.”
“Hm?”
“We should talk.”
Changkyun’s pretty eyes slightly widen. They glance up, down, side to side, before meeting Hoseok’s eye.
“I’m sorry,” Changkyun says.
“What?”
“I took it too far, right?”
Hoseok blinks, probably looking dumb as fuck, as he sputters, “What?”
“I-“
“You know what, sit down.” Hoseok points to Minhyuk's ex-bed, so Changkyun sits. His hands curl above his knees, back straight, head down. It’s quiet enough to hear the lazy street traffic down below.
“Um-“
“Me first,” Hoseok decides. Rip off the bandaid. Be an adult. “Whatever we’re doing needs to stop.”
Changkyun nods, “Right. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know how you feel,” Hoseok sighs, hand still running through his hair. “But I like you. I can’t keep playing games.”
Changkyun’s eyes grow humorously large.
“I’m not sorry.” Hoseok says, picking at a stray thread pill on his sweatpants. “I won’t apologize.”
Changkyun stares, back straight as a board, longass eyelashes kissing his cheeks. He looks cute.
“You like me?” He finally asks, in English.
“Yes,” Hoseok answers back, also in English. His face is starting to heat up – Changkyun’s stare grows heavier, and the doubt in Hoseok’s stomach churns harder. “Um,” Hoseok looks away, “I-“
“Wow,” Changkyun bounces to his bed, flopping beside him, the goofiest goddamn smile Hoseok has ever seen stretched across his face. “Wow! Wow wow-“
“Stop that,” Hoseok laughs. He pushes at Changkyun’s face, palm stretching across his cheeks, “Stop, I’m tryna’ be serious here-“
“Thank god,” Changkyun breathes, still ignoring everything Hoseok is saying. “Thank fucking Christ dude. Fuck. I- I was going crazy, hyung.”
The weight that lifts from Hoseok is dizzying – but Changkyun’s delighted face is grounding. Hoseok can’t resist, really, stretching between them and pushing back Changkyun’s bangs.
“I’m actually obsessed with you,” Changkyun says, tone joking and light, but words incredibly meaningful. His hands fist in his shirt; his face is bare, and sweeter than hell. Everything about him – red, worried lips, messy hair.
“You’re a tease,” Hoseok says, quieter than he planned.
Changkyun’s eyes are magical, really. They change so fast, from innocent delight, to something mature and heated. He tips his head, looks Hoseok in the eye-
“I noticed some things,” Changkyun mumbles, tone dropping low, and Hoseok fucking shivers.
“God,” Hoseok looks away.
“I want to burn those shorts of yours,” Changkyun says conversationally, hand dipping into Hoseok’s lap. His palm splays over his thigh, right above his tattoo. “Shred them to pieces, actually.”
“If I could physically bathe in your voice, I would.” Hoseok retaliates.
And then there’s hands, fisting up Hoseok's shirt, rolling up his chest, and digging into the roots of his hair.
Changkyun isn’t so much an aggressive kisser, rather than a busy one.
He likes constant physical contact, but so does Hoseok. Life just works out sometimes.
Changkyun has strong hands. His nails are sharper than expected, and Wonho gets to meet them firsthand when they comb through his hair.
It’s dark outside, well past midnight, but their bodies surge with some rediscovered rush of adrenaline and heat. The AC may be high, but the room boils warm.
Hoseok feels sweat drip down his neck, but Changkyun catches it with his thumb, smearing it around to his adams apple, and pressing in. Hoseok swallows, and Changkyun’s fingers follow the movement. It's not awkward; the touch is suprisingly familiar.
They’re wonderfully close, Changkyun’s back pressed up against the soft hotel headboard, Hoseok straddling his lap – Hoseok has half a mind to notice the free hand running up his inner thigh, but he’s more focused on playing with Changkyun’s lower lip, and listening to the noises he makes.
It’s sweet – like time is melting away. Worries and stress and exhaustion going with it. Tick tock.
They can hear the city traffic, but Changkyun’s whisper is still louder, “Hyung.”
It’s broken, and just gravelly enough to make Hoseok shiver. Changkyun smiles against his lips – kisses hard and stays busy, smiling more when their lips smack.
“Yes?” Hoseok whispers back.
“Take off your shirt,” Changkyun mumbles – and those hands sweep up to his neck, pushing at the button up, and slipping it off his shoulders. The silky shirt falls to his elbows. Thumbnails dig into his collarbones, and Hoseok sighs.
“Bossy maknae,” Hoseok teases, slipping off the garment. Changkyun makes a purring noise; hands trace the muscles in his stomach. Round, in circles.
“I’m impatient,” Changkyun admits, low, more like an afterthought. Fingers trace the trail on his navel, and Hoseok inhales a little too sharply.
“Good,” Hoseok nods. He brings his hands, in turn, to push Changkyun’s sleep shirt up to his waist, just to feel all the soft skin. He kisses across Changkyun’s cheek, sloppy and wet, but perfect for this weird pace they’ve set, “Me too.”
“Nh,” Changkyun fidgets, “Hyung, no-“ he pushes at Hoseok’s hands.
“Why?”
“I’m squishy.” Changkyun squirms, breath catching when Hoseok’s hand trails around to his lower back.
“Not even,” Hoseok breathes. “You’re soft.”
“That’s not much better, hyung.”
Hoseok tires of talking – instead he tips his head, and controls the kiss this time. He feels Changkyun inhale through his nose – feels hands tangle in his hair – feels hips suddenly grind up to meet his –
They both make a noise, right against the other, as lips press and pull and spit and tongue becomes more erotic. Hoseok is hard already, body running warm from Changkyun’s hands, lips, his voice-
They rock together once more, slow and experimental, and the slight pressure is suddenly heaven. Changkyun’s voice lowers an octave, groaning out something undecipherable, and it’s probably the hottest thing Hoseok has ever heard. He’s forced to pull back, eyes falling shut, gritting out a harsh “God, fuck-“
Changkyun grows bold, seizing the opportunity to mumble, “You like that?” He grinds up once more, and Hoseok can finally feel the full outline of his cock in his sweatpants. Fuck, fuck, that's hot as hell. Changkyun moves to laugh against his ear, bottomless, “Do you like my voice, baby?”
“Oh my god,” Hoseok chokes; he grips the headboard, full body trembling, forehead coming to slip against Changkyun’s.
A palm runs between his legs, and Hoseok involuntarily grinds into it. His whole body throbs-
“Fuck,” Changkyun curses, fingers, deftly rubbing through the fabric. “Hyung.”
Lips slide to his neck. Hoseok’s vision narrows, like the peephole in a door.
“You’re really hard,” Changkyun says, and squeezes again. He’s using that tone –
“Kyun,” Hoseok rolls his hips, tenses his stomach, squeezes his thighs, right atop Changkyun. He wants to reciprocate –
Changkyun can’t leave marks, but he pretends to, and that’s almost enough. Hoseok makes a shaky noise low in his throat, and Changkyun licks the sweat on his neck.
Fingers tug at elastic.
“Can I?” He rumbles.
Hoseok barley has enough time to say yes, before Changkyun’s hands are pushing down the sweats as far as they’ll go, one hand digging into his ass, the other wrapping around his cock and squeezing.
Hoseok grunts – it’s a dry slide – but Hoseok’s moisturizing obsession comes in handy, when Changkyun is able to reach over to the bedside table and douse his fingers in lotion.
Lips find his – Changkyun’s fingers slip around Hoseok’s cock with an unbelievable amount of confidence – Hoseok moans way, way too loud.
But Changkyun eats it up. Sucks on his tongue. Mumbles words into his cheeks and squeezes his ass and rubs his thumb into the head of Hoseok’s cock, and Hoseok’s soul ascends.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ Hoseok whines, breath heavy, blood warm, hands nearly breaking the headboard. “Kyun, Changkyun, nn!”
“I’ve liked you for a long time,” the younger says, smooth and slippery and soft in the stillness of the hotel room. “A long, long time, Hoseok.”
There’s no honorific, but that turns Hoseok on just a little bit more. He feels the twist in his gut, and his cock jumps in Changkyun’s palm. His pace is so steady, just right; it’s a sensory overload. It’s dizzying.
“I-“ Hoseok tries, “I didn’t hnn, know.”
Changkyun squeezes on the upstroke, thumb rubbing into the slit, and hums deep. Hoseok chokes, whines-
“Back on No Mercy. Even when you hated me, I liked you.”
The mention of No Mercy is sobering. It brings up sad memories, of a time where he was filled with hate, rather than affection. Hoseok opens his eyes, and meets Changkyun’s warm brown ones. The makeup noonas had him in contacts for the show, but Hoseok loves nothing more than his natural color.
And the emotions he sees there; it’s enough to make Hoseok cradle the side of his neck and kiss him, kiss him and kiss him and kiss him forever.
It’s over so fast. Hoseok’s gut flip flops, and he has enough time to cry out some mess of a warning, before he’s coming hard. Changkyun says words, but it’s too much for Hoseok’s brain to decipher. He just holds on, lets Changkyun kiss him, and feels. Feels everything, feels the tingling from head to toe, as his thighs tense and his body lightly convulses.
“Perfect, perfect,” Changkyun is repeating.
“Why,” Hoseok rasps, in a sort-of laugh, “why are you so good at this?” Evil maknae. Evil.
Changkyun offers a half-smile, cheeks slightly flushed. “I’m good at this?”
“Shut up,” Hoseok breathes, finally coming to himself. He looks down at Changkyun’s hand, sticky now. Hoseok grips it, brings his hand to his lips, and licks the cum off his fingers. The look on Changkyun’s face is worth it – his eyes turn round, before squeezing shut, head tipping back, some kind of restrained noise rumbling in his throat. Hoseok sucks on his fingers, resisting a smile as Changkyun squirms beneath him.
"Shit-"
Hoseok is pretty much sitting on his dick at this point; so Hoseok slides off, patting his thigh, “Alright, pants off.”
“Huh?”
“Pants off.”
“Wh-you-“ Changkyun shifts. He looks nervous, suddenly, “You don’t have to.”
Hoseok rolls his eyes, “Do you want me to suck your dick or not?”
Changkyun gives him this look of bewilderment, nodding in some kind of daze, which only makes Hoseok want to smile.
So he does smile, into the skin of Changkyun’s thigh. It’s so, so late, but Hoseok just can’t find it in himself to care; especially when nails dig into his hair, and sweet, strangled noises echo above him.
They sleep on the plane.
Nobody asks any questions when they sit together, hands folded secretly between them. Nobody flinches when Changkyun falls asleep on Hoseok’s shoulder, or when Hoseok passes out as well.
Kihyun takes a picture, yeah, and Hyungwon laughs a little – but Minhyuk steals a blanket from the steward’s cart, drapes it over their shoulders, and turns off their overhead light.
Hoseok looks incredibly innocent, curled up into Changkyun’s side, a hand protectively cradling the head on his shoulder – all while sleeping.
“Cute,” is all Shownu has to say.
“Mm,” Minhyuk agrees.
Indescribably so.