↱APHONIC↲ ⇾seongjoong⇽

ꜰᴏᴜʀ

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
ꜰᴏᴜʀ
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Twenty-seven days.

It took twenty-seven days for Hongjoong and Seonghwa to be left alone at the dorm together after their shower incident with Wooyoung.

The prospect of getting some sense of privacy sounded relatively easy, but between dance practices and concept planning and the insistent fear of messing around in the bathroom again after what happened last time, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had somehow managed to go nearly a month without getting off together.

A month in which Hongjoong had spent jerking off in the shower practically every day, coming hard to the fading images he still had of Seonghwa's body, the pretty pout to his mouth when he'd blow Hongjoong until his throat was raw.

Hongjoong was convinced it had been some type of torture, a way of getting him to crave the thing he knew made him weak, made him who he didn't want to be.

It made everything harder too, the avoidance, the denial.

Hongjoong couldn't pretend like he didn't want Seonghwa in that way anymore, that it was just a fluke, because the truth was that he did want Seonghwa.

He wanted him all the fucking time, and it got to the point where Hongjoong couldn't even watch Seonghwa walk from the bathroom to the bedroom shirtless without feeling heat creep up beneath his skin, a stir in his belly.

He was desperate, shamefully so, but apparently Seonghwa was too, because the moment the dorm went quiet, each of the members flocking off to do their own thing on the rarity that they got a day off, Hongjoong found himself being pinned to the living room couch by two frantic hands.

"Finally, oh my god." Seonghwa groaned, shoulders shaking with surprised laughter. "I thought they'd never leave."

His smile was beautiful, the kind that registered as a feeling in your chest rather than a sight for the eyes, but Hongjoong was having a very hard time focusing with the way Seonghwa was already rushing to unbutton his shirt, and so he just sort of laid there staring for much longer than he meant to.

Seonghwa laughed again, this time a little weak. "Hongjoong?"

He sounded nervous, wide brown eyes turning gentle as his hands finally stopped moving, fingers resting across Hongjoong's stomach where he'd already revealed a line of skin.

"I'm good, sorry," Hongjoong snapped back forcefully, shaking his head, clearing his throat.

Fuck, his heart was pounding.

"It's okay, this is okay."

"Yeah?" Seonghwa's eyes turned hopeful again. "This okay?" His hands started undoing the last button on Hongjoong's shirt again, long fingers working diligently, and Hongjoong just nodded, sighed deeply in the space between them.

Seonghwa was gentle with him, asking for Hongjoong's permission every time he wanted to peel off another piece of clothing.

Hongjoong knew he didn't deserve it but he was thankful anyway.

It helped him relax, made him fall into the same rhythm he'd managed to find before the dreaded twenty-seven days, and once he caught back up into the rush of things the entire moment became that much better.