Archive of Our Own

It starts in the airport, as usual. No, technically before the airport. On the plane.

They’re flying back to Korea from Japan, scheduled for a concert in Seoul later this evening. As they descend, a few members who had managed to sleep a little stir, the pressure change making them wake.

Changbin didn’t sleep. Next to him, Seungmin did, and still does. Curled like a shrimp, his forehead pressing against Changbin’s shoulder. The plane bumps onto the tarmac, and Seungmin sleeps on.

Or, pretends to. You never can tell with Kim Seungmin.

So as the quiet plane erupts into a cacophony of rustling and talking and thumping, Changbin eyes the motionless dongsaeng on his shoulder with suspicion. 

“Seungmin-ah, wake up,” he says clearly, wiggling his shoulder a little.

Seungmin grunts and presses his forehead harder into Changbin.

Changbin pets his hair a little bit. “We’ve landed. Time to go.”

Nothing. Not even a grunt this time.

Changbin bites back a sigh. It’s too early to be getting frustrated. But he wishes Seungmin would respond to gentleness for once.

Still, he knows how to handle Seungmin. Knows he can use his temper and his strength with him in a way he can’t with anyone else. That Seungmin prefers it, even, which is bizarre. 

It’s early, and he had a peaceful plane ride listening to music with Seungmin’s warmth making him cozy, so he hasn’t had much time to work up a temper. He’ll do what he must, though.

The aisle is packed with people slowly shuffling off the plane. All the other members were seated ahead of them, and must be wondering where they are now. 

So he jostles his shoulder violently, basically throwing Seungmin’s head up. “Come on,” he says gruffly.

Seungmin squints at him, hair mussed and jaw slack, very much awake and alert. 

Changbin just knows a howl of injustice is about to come from that wide mouth, so he does the proactive thing and pinches Seungmin’s lips shut with his fingers. “Not the time, Seungminnie. The others have already disembarked.”

Seungmin jerks his lips from his grip before he’s done speaking, but that’s okay. At least he’s not causing a scene for the few staff members that are nearby.

They gather their bags and shuffle off the plane, joining their members and team who are waiting for them in the lobby.

“What took you so long?” Minho asks, bright-eyed amidst the yawns and sleep-walking of the rest of them. Hyunjin has draped himself over Jeongin, eyes fully shut. He’s the worst of them.

“Changbin put me in a headlock and whispered dirty things,” Seungmin said crisply, expression utterly serious.

Oh no. It’s begun.

“No, I didn’t!” Changbin squawks, shoving Seungmin’s shoulder hard. 

Seungmin goes with the push easily, stumbling way farther than necessary. A manager catches him, and Seungmin straightens up, pointing at Changbin. “See what he just did to me?!” He looks imploringly at the manager.

The manager rubs his forehead, clearly too tired to put up with shenanigans at the moment. “Just…contain yourselves until we get to the cars, okay?”

Changbin is more than happy to comply, but there’s only so much he can take.

They walk through the long, long hallways of the airport. Up and down stairs and escalators. It takes almost 20 minutes.

And for the entirety of those 20 minutes, Seungmin is pestering him.

First he kicks at the bottoms of Changbin’s shoes, trying to trip him. When Changbin stops walking for a few moments, letting Seungmin pass him, he congratulates himself on the subtle de-escalation technique.

But Seungmin simply walks beside him now. He adopts a ridiculous, swinging waddle, one that sharply sways his backpack side-to-side. It’s annoying to watch, to listen to, and to feel. Because that backpack whacks Changbin’s shoulder with every other step.

Wait until the cars. Wait until the cars. Wait until the cars. 

Changbin swallows his frustration, packs it down into a tight, thorned ball and shoves it deep into his chest.

“Knock it off,” he says tightly.

“Huh?” Seungmin responds with a smarmy grin. “Can’t hear you.”

Little shit.

Restraining himself so as to not make a scene, Changbin darts his hand out and grips the back of Seungmin’s neck. The shape of his nape is familiar to Changbin’s palm, and it’s with even greater familiarity that he yanks Seungmin’s head down to his level.

“I said knock it off ,” he all but hisses into Seungmin’s ear.

Seungmin doesn’t respond. He never does, just stumbles to keep his feet as Changbin marches them onward, still hunched over.

After a few moments, Changbin uses his grip on Seungmin’s neck to shove him upright.

Seungmin licks his lips, eyes shining with mischief. Then they’re at an escalator, and Seungmin moves behind him, leaning heavily on his backpack as they ascend.

The weight drags at his shoulders, without even the consolation prize of Seungmin’s body-heat. Annoyed thorns pricking at his insides, Changbin keeps his face impassive as cameras flash around them.

It’s too damn early for this.

***

It’s not Seungmin’s fault he woke up horny. Not his fault that Changbin’s rude awakening lit a fire in him. A fire for more that will not be quenched by time . Not his fault that he only knows one way to get what he wants.

(Okay, that last part is his fault. But, Seungmin never claimed to be truthful.)

After being driven to his and Felix’s apartment, the managers give them 30 minutes to drop off their bags, do whatever hygiene things they didn’t do before the plane, and get back in the car.

They’re supposed to squeeze in some recording before the concert.

Seungmin decides to squeeze in something else.

He bites his lip, looking at his array of butt plugs. They fill the little box he keeps them in, all different shapes, sizes, and colors. He needs something that won’t hit his prostate, won’t arouse him. He’s got a long day of singing and dancing ahead of him, after all. 

He just wants a plug that will make him easier to fuck when he finally gets Changbin to break. They might not have a lot of time, and he’d rather not waste time getting fingered. Fingering can be nice, but it takes too long, and besides, Seungmin wants to get railed. Hard.

With Felix banging around in his room and their shared bathroom, Seungmin quickly peels off his comfortable airport sweats and boxers. His long fingers pluck up a small, short one. Soft, black silicone with a clear jeweled circle cap should do nicely.

Cold air caressing his flaccid dick and butt cheeks, he flicks open his lube bottle and coats the plug with it. Seungmin stares at the plug hungrily, appreciating the glistening sheen of it.

Shiny plug and shiny hand held up, Seungmin flops face-down on his bed. Sticks his ass up. With his lubed right hand, he reaches behind himself and presses a slick finger to his rim. 

He doesn’t moan. That would be too humiliating. But he does exhale heavily, purposefully relaxing himself. His finger slips in easily, cool and warm all at once, a welcome pressure inside. He pushes another finger in quickly. 

He’s an experienced bottom, after all.

Clock ticking, he transfers the plug to his dominant hand and starts pushing it in. Twisting, pushing, it sends soothing sparks up his spine that he tries to ignore. There’s no time to get off right now. Besides, he doesn’t really want to. No, this is all for Future Seungmin’s pleasure.

Shoulder burning from the angle, Seungmin pushes and pushes and pushes. His hole widens, widens, widens deliciously until—pop. It’s in.

His arm flops against the mattress, and he takes a moment to breathe. 

Knock, knock, knock. “Seungmin! We gotta go!” 

Felix’s voice makes Seungmin push himself up, wrinkling his nose as he sees the damp spot on his pillow. He was drooling. Damn.

“Coming!” He shouts back, and scrambles to put on underwear and pants. He wishes he could forgo the underwear, but even he has limits. He’s going to perform, after all.

The plug is a constant pressure inside him. Just a placeholder. It’ll be Changbin’s fat cock in there by the end of the day. Seungmin will make it happen or die trying.

***

Changbin directs Seungmin from outside the recording booth. Not that he needs much direction, vocal perfectionist that he is.

Seungmin does a second take, just as pristine as the first, and looks out the window. “I like that one,” he says. His face is serious, and all the more handsome for it. Short black hair, plush lips and sharp jaw that Changbin has sucked on many a time before.

Other people are in the room, but Changbin looks to Chan, sitting beside him in a hoodie and shorts. Chan looks back and smiles. Changbin nods, lensless glasses shifting on his nose. They make him look softer, or so Yongbok says.

Chan leans forward and presses the intercom button. “Perfect, Seungmin. You’re done.”

Seungmin nods, removes his headphones, and walks out of the booth.

The moment he leaves that little box, it’s like a switch gets flipped. He’s all mischievous grins and puppy-like hops and skips.

Changbin doesn’t have time to brace himself before Seungmin has frolicked over to him and—jabbed his knee into Changbin’s thigh.

Changbin bites back a shout, shoving Seungmin’s knee off him. His thigh throbs now, painful and sore and not in a good after-workout way. He shoots a glare at an utterly unrepentant Seungmin and adjusts his ballcap to keep his hands busy.

The producers have seen a lot of their team, but Changbin still doesn’t want to go full arm-bar on Seungmin in front of them. Not like how he’s itching to.

Who knows if Seungmin will complain and whine, painting himself as the victim again. Just as likely is him laughing like a maniac.

The latter, Changbin doesn’t mind others seeing. The former, he does. He already looks scary, has to actively act in ways that make him seem non-threatening and approachable. He’s not about to undermine that carefully crafted (and true!) reputation by letting Kim Seungmin get the best of him.

Not even when he snatches Changbin’s hat right off his head and twirls it in his stupidly long fingers, wiggling his eyebrows in a clear challenge.

Damn brat. Fucking menace. 

Focus on something else . Because something hot and ugly is spreading quickly through his limbs. Pricking his conscious with the urge to do something about that annoying smirk. 

Changbin clears his throat. “It’s Minho’s turn now. Where is he?” If his voice comes out a little more gruffly than he planned, oh well. That’s better than punching his vocalist in the stomach.

Seungmin answers smoothly. “He said he wasn’t coming unless you came and got him.”

Changbin groans, throwing his head back and rubbing at his eyes. Of course Minho would do something like that. 

Chan laughs lightly. “I’ll go get him. Seungmin, do you know where he is?”

Seungmin clicks his tongue, still fiddling with Changbin’s hat. “Yeah. But he said Changbin needs to come get him.”

Changbin bites back several choice swears and hauls himself out of his chair. 2min are gonna be the death of him. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Seungmin grabs his wrist unnecessarily and tugs him from the studio. Changbin can’t help how his heart flutters, and he doesn’t pull away. He does snatch his hat from Seungmin’s other hand, though, and jams it onto his head. Seungmin doesn’t so much as glance at him. Weirdo.

Seungmin leads him down the hall and to a bathroom, pulling him by the wrist. He drops it as soon as the door swings behind them and goes wandering around the bathroom.

This puppy can never sit still.

The company always keeps their bathrooms sparkling and fresh-smelling, thank God. This one is all white tiles. No one is at the urinals, so Minho must be in one of the three stalls.

Changbin crosses his arms and calls, “Okay, Minho-hyung. I’m here at your whim. Happy now?”

No answer. What, is this some twisted hide and seek that Minho wants him to do?

A sharp click sounds suddenly in the bathroom. Changbin spins to find the source. 

Seungmin stands by the door, wicked grin splitting his face.

Changbin grits his teeth. He suspects he’s been duped. He hates being made a fool of.

Slowly and clearly, he says, “Seungmin, where is Minho?”

Seungmin shrugs before advancing on Changbin, getting right into his space. He shoves at Changbin’s shoulders.

Changbin doesn’t budge. Not even in the face of Seungmin’s pout.

“You said he—“

“I lied.”

Outrage fills Changbin’s chest. His hand flies before he tells it too, slapping the side of Seungmin’s neck. “You shouldn’t lie to your hyungs,” he growls.

Seungmin licks his lips and suddenly grips harshly at Changbin’s hips, tugging them together. He starts shamelessly grinding against Changbin, his barely-there bulge dragging across Changbin’s hip and lower stomach.

Changbin’s breath hitches, and that hot outrage pools lower. Just a little.

Oh . So that’s what this is all about.

“C’mon, hyung,” Seungmin says quietly, his voice trembling slightly. Changbin can only hear how affected he is with his keen producer ears. “Are you really going to let me get away with all this? Aren’t you mad?”

Is he mad? Maybe. He can’t tell because he can’t think with Seungmin grinding on him like this.

Changbin’s hand comes up automatically to Seungmin’s neck, and the other to his arm. He makes quick work of spinning Seungmin around, walking them forward until Seungmin is pressed against the wall, arm twisted up behind his back.

Not too painful, just high enough to keep him immobile.

Seungmin lets out a high, breathy moan that goes straight to Changbin’s dick. “Shut up, I’m trying to think.”

“Don’t think. Just fuck me.”

“I said shut up ,” Changbin rasps, pushing on Seungmin’s neck a little harder. 

Think. They are in the middle of a recording session. Minho is probably there right now, and it’s 50/50 whether Chan will start without him. Changbin had heavily influenced this part of the song. He wants to be there to direct Minho.

But here is Seungmin, asking to be fucked. And while Changbin wasn’t horny before, it doesn’t take much for his dick to get interested. 

Changbin grits his teeth and squeezes his wrist tighter. He feels so warm and delicate in his grip.

How dare Seungmin tempt him with something he can’t have right now. “Why do you have the worst timing? I can’t fuck you now.”

Seungmin wiggles a little, craning his neck around to look at Changbin out of the corner of his eye. “We could be quick.”

Changbin snorts. They absolutely cannot be quick. Seungmin takes forever to come, which is always a delicious experience for Changbin. But it’s not an experience they can have in a company bathroom, door locked or not.

Changbin stares at the reddening skin beneath his hands, the outline of Seungmin’s shoulders and tiny waist.

He could be quick though. He could fuck Seungmin’s mouth and be done in 2 minutes, probably. Seungmin already did a perfect recording, too. He won’t need his voice until later.

Changbin sighs. No, he won’t fuck Seungmin’s mouth hours before a concert. Besides, Changbin shouldn’t reward bad behavior. If Seungmin wants sex, he should just ask for it like an adult. 

So Changbin does the responsible thing. He’s always prided himself on his emotional regulation. And it’s not easy, but it’s not too difficult to release Seungmin and step back. “Nope. I’m going back to the studio.”

Seungmin turns to face him, holding his wrist like a souvenir. A dangerous glint is in his eye, and his cheek is red from being pressed against the wall.

Changbin is hit with the sudden, desperate desire to make the other cheek a matching red.

He shakes his head and flees the bathroom. Even if Seungmin is the only one he lets himself slip with, now is not the time.

And if Seungmin keeps this shit up, Changbin might make sure it’s never the time.

***

So maybe Seungmin jumped the gun and propositioned Changbin too early.

It’s not his fault! If anything, he should be congratulated for showing such restraint in the studio. With the way he was sitting back in his chair, feet planted and legs spread wide, Changbin’s lap looked like an invitation. Seungmin wanted to straddle it and start grinding. Or maybe drop to his knees and rub his cheeks along Changbin’s open inner thighs.

Instead, he pressed his knee there.

And those thick black boyfriend glasses. So hot. So cute. Seungmin’s fingers itched to take them off and kiss Changbin senseless. Instead, he forced his itchy fingers to steal his cap.

So really, he’d behaved very well, comparatively. Especially with the plug's sweet pressure constantly reminding him what he was really after.

They are backstage preparing for the concert. They already did sound check, and Seungmin had fun connecting with Stay and playing with his members a little. Just a few hip-checks. A few pokes. He even got Hyunjin to kiss his cheek. That was nice.

Amidst the chaos and bustle of makeup and fit checks and mic checks, Seungmin sees Changbin out of the way against the wall. He’s got his phone up, taking selfies for Stay.

He’s sinfully attractive. All ready for the opening set in his sparkly beige sleeveless top. His arms are popping and his hair is perfectly sculpted up off his forehead.

Seungmin grins like a predator. Changbin might want to withhold sex for the sake of being responsible, or teaching Seungmin a lesson, but that resolve is thin. Seungmin will snap it, make Changbin mad enough that his higher thought processes go out the window.

He’s done it before. He’ll do it again.

Really, it’s Changbin’s fault for not holding firm. If he managed to hold onto his temper, to not pound Seungmin into oblivion countless times in the past, Seungmin would find a different tactic.

But he doesn’t need to. He knows this will work. Plus, it’s ridiculously fun.

Seungmin rushes over to Changbin messily, shoving his head into frame and carelessly bumping Changbin’s phone hand.

“Get away,” Changbin grumbles, pushing him gently out of frame.

Gently? Seungmin has a lot of work to do.

His heart is light and vibrating. Not speaking, Seungmin ignores the warning and leans harder against Changbin, shooting a wide smile into the camera. 

Changbin’s shoulder is warm and soft and huge against his chest, his solid hip pressing into Seungmin’s crotch. Tingles race through him, and his hole clenches around the plug.

“Yah!” Changbin shouts at full volume, shoving Seungmin away harshly.

Seungmin guffaws, eyes wide in delighted surprise. Well. Maybe Seungmin won’t have to work that hard after all.

Seungmin wanders away, bright and giggling to himself. He should collect his concert jacket anyway.

Jeongin catches him on his way. “Don’t make hyung mad today,” he says, world-weary. “My ears can’t handle his shouting.”

Seungmin licks his lips. Perfect.

Wrapping an arm around Jeongin, he turns back to Changbin and shouts, “Changbin-hyung! You hurt our maknae’s ears!” Jeongin cringes beside him.

Changbin turns to them, face open and sweet. His lips part.

Seungmin is certain he’s about to be all gooey to their maknae. He jumps to speak. “Apologize, you rotten hyung!”

Changbin’s face twists in anger, just as Seungmin planned. “I was going to!”

Jeongin finally wiggles out of Seungmin’s hold. “Leave me out of your toxic flirting.” He runs away, only to be caught by Hyunjin, who drags him into a hug and starts smelling his hair like a madman. Felix quickly joins them.

Changbin glares at Seungmin, and Seungmin smirks before striding off, long arms swinging.

He gets his jacket, lets the stylists fuss over him, and stares into Minho’s unblinking eyes while remembering they last time they fucked. Minho had ridden him until they were both on the edge, then flipped Seungmin onto his stomach and railed him into his climax. Seungmin had drooled into the pillow, body limp and pliant as Minho had painted his insides white.

Maybe if he can’t get Changbin to fuck him tonight, he’ll go to Minho. His craving is Changbin-specific, but Minho’s a good second choice.

Once the stylists release him, he looks around for his target.

Changbin and Chan are on the floor, doing push-ups. Chan doesn’t have a shirt on yet. Both their muscles ripple and bulge, the backs of their necks flushing a little.

Seungmin stares and stares and stares, mind quieting a little. He doesn’t realize he has a besotted smile on his face until Felix comes to stand next to him.

“I love men,” he says in that sexy-ass deep voice of his. Long hair done up in two pseudo-pigtails, Felix sips on a water bottle and enjoys the view.

“Same,” Seungmin says, and feels Felix’s gentle finger on his cheek.

“Careful, Minnie. You look awful soft right now. Won’t that ruin your game?”

Seungmin drags his gaze away from the two muscle hyungs and blinks at Felix, bringing himself out of his daze.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Felix winks and shows off his canines. “Just helping you live a life of danger. Aren’t I a good roommate? Supporting your endeavors?”

Seungmin laughs. His eyes flick down to Felix’s mouth, aching to kiss him there. Just a little po-po because he’s such a delight.

But with strangers and staff milling around, he settles for a quick peck to Felix’s cheek instead.

Felix returns it with a, “go get him, tiger,” nodding at Chan and Changbin.

Seungmin whirls. The gym bros are no longer working out. No, Chan is heading down the hall while Changbin is walking toward an empty couch. From his body angle, Seungmin sees he plans to lie down.

He has just the plan to irritate him.

Using his hidden athleticism that no one expects him to have, he zooms over to the couch and flops onto his stomach just as Changbin gets one knee onto the cushions.

Seungmin looks at his phone nonchalantly, keeping his smirk on the inside as Changbin huffs indignantly above him.

He loves when Changbin is above him.

“Yah! Make some space! I was going to sit here.”

Seungmin looks up lazily. Insolently. “Does this couch have your name on it?”

It’s childish. Seungmin isn’t prone to being childish, except when he knows Changbin hates it.

Changbin grits his teeth. Sucks his lips in and puffs his cheeks, eyes searching the heavens for patience.

“Are you going to be this difficult all day?”

Seungmin shrugs. 

“You don’t have to be.”

Seungmin shrugs again. Maybe not, but he likes to be.

Changbin huffs again, his meaty thighs shifting before Seungmin feels hands on his waist lifting him off the couch.

Seungmin gasps and grins, relishing the moment of weightlessness, the punishing grip of Changbin’s hands.

Changbin settles onto the couch, looking up at a breathless Seungmin.

“I’m not letting you be a brat anymore.”

Seungmin shivers. If Changbin thinks that was a deterrent, he’s sorely mistaken.

***

Changbin loves performing. Music shows are fun. Short with a lot of waiting around. Festivals are fun, too.

But nothing beats their own concert.

Or, it would, if Seungmin wouldn’t take every chance to annoy him.

Their actual songs go fine. But as soon as the music cuts, Seungmin is on him. Elbowing him, sticking out his tongue, unzipping his top.

It’s infuriating.

They set up for Twilight, Seungmin and Felix on risers, Changbin and Chan on the bottom. Changbin is talking to Chan and Felix about something when he suddenly feels a tug.

He jumps, air touching his back.

He doesn’t even have to look to see who did it.

Fucking Kim Seungmin. He knows Changbin doesn’t like exposing his body. Knows this is just going to piss him off. Is he still trying to get Changbin to fuck him? Surely not. It’s been hours since the company bathroom. There’s no way he’s still horny.

Besides, he knows Changbin can’t fuck him on stage. Or backstage. 

So. He must just want to make Changbin mad.

Mindful of the thousands of cameras on him, Changbin edges sideways and slaps Seungmin’s ankle.

“Zip me up.” He keeps a tight hold on his voice. Anger threatens to choke him, and he can’t do that right now. Not when he needs to sing sweetly in just a few moments.

“Sure,” Seungmin says, and zips him up. Reactionless.

Changbin hates when he’s neutral. When he acts like nothing at all happened.

The song starts, and Changbin performs, hating how much he loves the beautiful sound of Seungmin singing.

***

In a pause between songs, all eight of them come together to do a little comedy bit for Stay.

Well, it’s Jisung and Felix’s turn to do the bit. Seungmin and Changbin are off on the side of the line.

Seungmin zeros in on Changbin’s back. He’s looking down the line at the action, leaving his sweaty neck clear. The zipper on the back of his shirt winks at Seungmin, and Seungmin keeps his face carefully neutral as his mischievous heart zings.

Casually, but quickly, no move wasted, Seungmin takes a step closer to Changbin. His fingers close around the zipper and swiftly pull it down three-quarters of the way.

Changbin jolts, and Seungmin keeps his smirk on the inside.

Changbin shoots him a glare over his shoulder, but Seungmin lets his gaze drift, looking out at Stay in the upper balconies of the stadium. He sees Changbin out of the corner of his eye, of course, but plays dumb.

He loves playing dumb for as long as his inner demon lets him.

Seungmin rocks on his feet, popping his lips like he hasn’t a care in the world. Changbin’s subtle attempts to get his attention grow increasingly irritated, until finally Seungmin feels a rough slap to his shoulder.

“Huh?” He makes his eyes wide and innocent, mouth slack. Inside, he’s cackling.

Changbin is so pissed off. His brows drawn and his little mouth pulled tight. A muscle jumps in his jaw as he roughly gestures to his back, bicep bunching.

Seungmin knows what that strength feels like, pinning him and throwing him and jabbing into him. He wants it, bad.

But, they are on stage in the middle of a concert. So Seungmin will have to wait.

Stoking the fire is much more fun than waiting idly, though.

Face placid, Seungmin reaches out and zips up the back of Changbin’s shirt.

Changbin yanks him with a rough hand gripping the nape of his neck. 

A thrill runs through Seungmin as Changbin hauls him in, pressing his face into his sweaty neck. Seungmin’s spine curves, a twinge of discomfort he relishes.

“You better knock it off. Quit messing with me on stage or I’ll make you regret it.”

Seungmin loses his composure, panicked-happy laughter bubbling from his grinning lips. Regret it? As if Changbin could ever.

Changbin jerks him up roughly and releases him, leveling serious eyes that Seungmin can’t stop laughing at. 

***

Despite his growing annoyance, Changbin keeps his cool the entire concert. And then Seungmin goes too far. It’s the ending ments, and Seungmin steals Changbin’s microphone. Snatches it right out of his hand, laughing like he’s the funniest guy in the universe instead of a prick.

Changbin glares at him. It’s the end of a concert, and Changbin’s heart is tender. The end is always a vulnerable time. All the love he feels from Stay, all the sweat and joy he poured out on stage. He feels vulnerable, raw, and real.

And Seungmin is still playing stupid games with him?

Jeongin nudges him and hands his own microphone over. Changbin takes it, catching his maknae in a one-armed hug.

“At least one member of vocalracha has manners,” he says into the mic.

Stay laughs, the entire stadium roaring with good cheer, and he feels a little better.

Until he hears Seungmin’s voice boom over the speakers, “Too bad none of 3racha are tall. Or cute.”

Stay laughs again, but Changbin’s heart sours. It’s an old joke. One he’s heard time and time again. It shouldn’t bother him. It usually doesn’t. But now, with his emotions running high and his fortitude bruised by Seungmin’s relentless attacks all day—it does hurt. 

Luckily Jisung and Chan are protesting into their microphones, defending their unit’s honor. Giving Changbin time to collect himself, to swallow down his disbelief and rage and hurt.

Jeongin shares a frown with Changbin, clearly thinking the same thing. This isn’t right. This type of ribbing is for literally the entire show except for ending ments. This time is for sincere, heartfelt words.

What the hell is Seungmin doing? 

Changbin stumbles through his words, keeping them short because he feels like screaming instead.

And through it all, Seungmin is a little pest in the background, smiling like an imp.

***

“I need Changbin to fuck me,” Seungmin says easily to Hyunjin. They are backstage winding down, changing into their casual clothes, saying thank you to all the staff.

Seungmin cornered Hyunjin, the manic look in his eye making Hyunjin stare at him warily. “Okay…”

Does he have to lay everything out? Impatiently, Seungmin says, “So do you want me over at yours, or should I get him to come to mine? And where do you want to be?”

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle with understanding. He purses his lips. “You better come to ours. It might be hard forcing him to go to yours.” His face lights up. “You think Felix will want to snuggle?”

Seungmin smirks. “Is that even a question?”

Hyunjin nods. “Yeah. We’ll just switch places for tonight. I’ll raid your clothes as compensation. You’re the only one on this team whose pants fit me.”

“Great,” Seungmin says, and finishes lacing up his worn sneakers. The plug nudges his rim with every motion. It was far more distracting on stage than he’d anticipated, and while he’d managed to not pop a boner, he is aching for a railing.

Judging by Changbin’s heated glares at him, he’s going to get it.

Finally.

***

Changbin stomps to the car, sliding into the empty back seat with his backpack and slamming the door closed, blocking out the noise from outside.

He breathes out and tips his head back, closing his eyes.

His manager is driving tonight, taking him and Hyunjin back to their apartment. He can’t wait until he is safe at home. He can take a shower, order some food, and wind down in Hyunjin’s easy presence.

Why did Seungmin have to go and ruin all the good vibes he got from performing? 

He needs to go home so he won’t do something he’ll regret with this anger that’s swirling and spinning inside him. 

The car door opens, and he turns, opening his eyes.

It’s Seungmin, hunching over and raising one foot to get inside this safe haven of a car. 

Changbin doesn’t think. His rage fuels his hands, and bony shoulders fill his palms. Changbin pushes hard , his own strength coming out fully, no breaks or holding back.

Seungmin staggers back, lanky limbs flailing as he tries to keep his feet. His eyes go wide, his mouth drops open.

Changbin is not fooled.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

Seungmin shrugs, insultingly unaffected in the face of Changbin’s anger. “Hyunjin wanted to hang out with Felix tonight.”

Changbin clenches his jaw. “So? Go home anyway.”

“I’m not—”

“Or go to a different house! I don’t care! Just not mine!”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. Huffs. “You’re being ridiculous, hyung. Just let me come use Hyunjin’s bed.”

The nerve of this kid. “Oh, I’m being ridiculous?! You—”

“Seungmin-ssi, you riding with us?” says the manager, just now jogging up.

“Yes.”

“No.”

The manager looks between Changbin’s glower and Seungmin’s placid face with raised eyebrows. “Um…”

Seungmin laughs, charismatic and genial. Changbin hates how he can charm anyone.

“Don’t worry about Changbinnie,” he says with a friendly tap on the manager’s arm. “Me and Hyunjin worked it out already.” 

And with that, Seungmin opens the passenger-side front door and hops in. Out of Changbin’s reach.

Changbin sits silently fuming throughout the whole car-ride while Seungmin keeps up steady chatter with their manager. Seungmin’s care-free laughter grates on Changbin’s ears. How dare he act like he didn’t do anything wrong. How dare he be so bro-ish with their manager while Changbin is right here. 

His anger bubbles and brews, simmers and heats, spreads and consumes until he’s ready to burst.

Something’s got to give.

***

Seungmin practically tastes the anger radiating off of Changbin as they walk from the car to the house. He sees it in the tight wave Changbin gives the manager, who drives off.

And when they both get inside and the door closes, he feels it in a harsh squeeze to his neck—Changbin’s favorite place to grip.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” he growls straight into Seungmin’s ear as he hauls him through the apartment.

Anticipation curls deep in his gut. “What are you talking about?” Seungmin gasps out, knowing it will piss off Changbin more.

“Don’t fucking play dumb with me. I’m fucking out of patience with you!” Changbin slams the door to his bedroom open and throws Seungmin straight onto the floor.

Seungmin’s knees and palms hit the wood flooring hard enough to bruise. He stares unseeing and the floor, breathing hard, heart rabbiting, dick filling out.

Still facing the floor, Seungmin says, “What could have possibly used up all your patience, hyung?”

He’s rewarded with a roar and a punishing grip to the back of his neck, driving his chest to the floor.

“Okay, fine. Fine! You want to piss me off so badly? You can fucking deal with the consequences!”

Seungmin can’t see Changbin, can only feel him, hear him. But that’s enough to have him trembling with want.

“I can handle them.”

Changbin’s laugh is mean, overwhelmed, and slightly hysterical. “Oh, you can handle it, can you?”

Good. He’s taking the bait. Seungmin needs him to go hard. To try to give him more than he can handle.

Changbin’s fingers scrape along the skin of his lower back, curling in the waistband of his pants and boxers, and yanking them down roughly.

“You were so bad today, you don’t deserve to be fucked in a bed.”

Yes yes yes yes! Seungmin almost drools, he’s so excited. Instead, he wiggles his ass and says hoarsly, “But I do deserve to be fucked?” 

A sudden burst of pain blooms sharply across Seungmin’s ass, startling a wanton moan out of his throat.

“Good point, maybe you don’t.”

Seungmin can’t speak very well, Changbin’s hand on his neck, smooshing his cheek into the floor. Still, he manages, “Ah, but you deserve to get your dick wet. After all I’ve put you through today.”

“I’ll decide who deserves what.”

“Oh yeah?” Seungmin reaches around and pulls his spanked cheek to the side, giving Changbin a view of the plug.

“You little slut,” Changbin chokes out. His hand immediately disappears from Seungmin’s neck, and Seungmin shivers as Changbin spreads his asscheeks apart, the sudden stretch stinging him deliciously. “When did you put this in?”

Seungmin’s so excited, he can’t predict if telling the truth will get him closer or farther from what he wants.

So he lies by default, “Right before the concert.”

Changbin gets a grip on the plug and pulls it, stretching Seungmin’s rim so suddenly, he gasps.

“You performed with this inside you?”

“Obviously,” Seungmin chokes out.

A harsh slap burns his skin, and he swears he’s never been more aroused. His head is spinning with it.

“No more attitude out of you.” Changbin rocks forward a little bit, enough for Seungmin to feel the hot skin of the anger-boner Seungmin loves coaxing out of him.

The skin-on-skin contact is alarming, surprising. When did Changbin lose his pants?

“Or what?” Seungmin taunts into the floor.

“Fucking hell, Seungmin,” Changbin groans. There’s a few noises, then Changbin yanks the plug out in one painful pull and slams his cock in the next second.

“Hey!” Seungmin screeches, scrambling against the floor. Changbin presses the heel of his hand against his lower back, forcing him to arch farther, to take his cock deeper.

“What’s the matter?” Changbin’s taunting tone has a shiver racing up Seungmin’s curved spine. “I thought you said you could handle it.”

“I still need lube, you asshole.”

“Can’t you feel it?” Changbin says mockingly, dragging his cock out slowly.

Seungmin almost convulses from the sudden sensation. So good, so hot, so smooth.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t lube up,” Changbin growls. And there’s another spank to the side of Seungmin’s thigh that has his cock jumping. “Shit, everything you say just pisses me off.”

“You’re just too easy, Changbinnie,” Seungmin pants. His lip drags against the wood floor. His elbows and ribs are starting to bruise from it. It's the best he's felt in weeks.

Changbin growls and pushes Seungmin’s back down harder before slamming his cock home. Seungmin can only brace himself against the floor as Changbin pulls back and slams in again and again, deep and slow.

Seungmin mines his rapidly shrinking brain for another rude thing to throw at him. But maybe he doesn’t need to.

His knees are aching, and Changbin has him spread wide, lowering his ass to the right level for his cock. The drag is delicious, the slide of skin on his channel exactly what he’s been wanting all day .

It feels so good, but Seungmin wants more. He starts pushing back in time with Changbin’s thrusts, fucking himself as much as he can.

Changbin huffs out a mean chuckle. “You’re this desperate? Never knew you were so pathetic, puppy.”

Heat flushes through Seungmin against his will. Fine, he’s desperate. But he’s not a pathetic dog.

No, he can't let Changbin turn the tables on him yet.

Seungmin tries to push himself up, get his hands underneath him, but Changbin knocks him back down, grabbing an elbow and pinning it behind his back.

His clothed back.

Damn, no wonder it’s so hot.

Changbin’s manhandling doesn’t help the situation either.

“Hyung,” he whines, shoulder burning. “Hyung take my shirt off.”

“Why? I just need your ass.”

Changbin keeps up a steady rhythm, so smooth it’s almost peaceful. He sounds so calm, too, so unbothered. Seungmin can't allow that. He's got to fight back. Get him riled up again. Make him really pound him.

 So Seungmin runs his mouth, not even sure what he’s saying, only trying to piss off Changbin again.

“I’m gonna tell Chan how mean you were to me. And then I’m going to tell Minho how lame of a fuck you were. You think this is too much for me to handle? You think you’re putting me in my place right now? I played you like a fiddle all day, hyung, and you didn’t even know. You think you’re in charge? It’s me. I am. You’re just my plaything. My toy. My stupid—”

Changbin’s dick suddenly slides all the way out of Seungmin, but what really cuts off his rambling are the two strong hands the seize him around the waist and throw him onto Changbin’s bed.

He bounces on his back, the air almost knocked out of him, and gets his first view of Changbin.

He’s naked. And glorious. And so damn hot with his enraged face that Seungmin’s dick and hole pulse with a sudden surge of heated pleasure.

“I’m so sick of your fucking mouth ,” he growls, and straddles Seungmin quickly, dick pointing straight out, glistening with lube and Seungmin’s insides.

Changbin manhandles Seungmin up a little, pulling his T-shirt off so hard the stitching around the collar rips with a sharp snap snap snap. Then he bears him back down onto the bed, the heels of his hands digging into his shoulders.

Seungmin feels flattened. He can’t muster up more words in the face of Changin’s overwhelming physicality, especially not when Changbin snarls in his face, then leans down and bites his collarbone.

“Ohmygod,” Seungmin cries, the zing of the bite going straight to his dick.

Seungmin stares, shocked and dazed as Changbin sits up, grabs the back of Seungmin’s thighs, and folds him in half in a single strong push.

“Nnng,” Seungmin wheezes. His spine twinges painfully, and his hamstrings scream at the stretch, but it’s nothing to the bliss of Changbin sinking his cock inside him with a single powerful thrust.

Changbin rails him like he’s got something to prove, pounding into him fast and hard. He slams into Seungmin’s deepest parts, the dull impacts blasting shockwaves throughout Seungmin’s body, his pace so fast one shockwave eats the tail of the last.

“Such a fucking brat,” Changbin growls. His pecs jiggle with each thrust, catching the light. 

Seungmin’s thighs really hurt. They feel like they’re about to rip off, Changbin is bending him so far.

He loves it.

“Just—for—you,” Seungmin gasps out, throwing a cheeky grin and wink up at him.

Changbin lands a swift slap to his ass. Or, as close to his ass as he can reach from this position.

Delicious pain blooms along Seungmin’s skin, and he jolts, letting a moan fall from his lips.

“The brat I never asked for! When will you bother someone else?” He punctuates his sentence with a particularly powerful thrust that has Seungmin sliding up the bed, seeing stars.

Changbin growls and jerks him back down onto his cock, and Seungmin’s stomach swoops.

“You’re so hot, hyung,” Seungmin slurs, lifting weak arms to paw at Changbin’s shoulders and pecs. Burning, sweat-slick flesh yields under his grabbing fingers. He could pinch and jiggle it if he were more coordinated right now.

“You have other hot hyungs.”

“Not like you.”

Abruptly, Changbin pulls back. He wrenches Seungmin’s legs down, unfolding him, splaying him out on the bed.

Seungmin cries out as his joints and muscles protest the quick movement, dick bobbing.

Changbin stays inside him, though. Stays inside him and curls his arms around Seungmin’s legs.

Delirious, Seungmin laughs breathlessly. His thighs are toothpicks compared to Changbin’s biceps. Skinny and lean against all of Changbin’s plush muscle. The squeeze around them feels amazing, overwhelming.

He’s nothing but a helpless ragdoll to Changbin, and each moment Changbin makes him feel it, he gets closer to coming.

“Not like me,” Changbin muses. His voice is steady despite his sweaty flush thanks to his hours in the gym and on stage. “That’s right. I don’t tolerate your bad behavior. You can’t get away with being a brat with me .”

 He rolls his hips into Seungmin slower, but harder. He lingers on the apex of the thrust, grinding into Seungmin’s hole.

Seungmin’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Changbin’s rough hair chafes against his taint, his ball slap his ass. It feels like he’s trying to dig inside, to rip Seungmin apart, to overpower him completely.

“What, no backtalk?” Changbin says meanly, gaze roving over Seungmin’s exposed, pliant body. He shifts, dropping Seungmin’s legs so he can slide his palms up the juts of his hips and dig in. “Where’s my bratty puppy?”

Seungmin moans as a pulse of pleasure zings through him. It bucks his hips, and Changbin’s hand slides over to press harshly against his pelvis, pinning him to the bed.

The other snakes up to drag over a brown nipple. Seungmin keens as Changbin twists it roughly.

“Hmm?” Changbin is still grinding hard and slow, unforgiving and implacable. “You can’t talk anymore?”

Seungmin cracks open his eyes, vision swimmy. He feels too good. So sore and used and helpless . He doesn’t know what Changbin wants from him right now. Doesn’t know if he’d give it to him if he knew. He likes being contrary too much.

He tries to scowl and croaks out a, “Fuck you.”

Changbin’s smile is the last thing Seungmin sees before a hot, wet tongue is flicking at his other nipple. He gasps, then screeches a sob of pleasure as that tongue is replaced by teeth, nipping and tugging and biting with no attempt at gentleness.

Seungmin writhes ineffectually beneath Changbin’s onslaught, muscles fighting in vain against him. His chest is two pinpricks of pain, his pelvis and hole burning, Changbin’s weight is a heavy pressure on his lower half, and somehow his feet are in the air, unable to give him any leverage.

“Hyung hyuuuunnnng” Seungmin babbles, hands digging restlessly into Changbin’s shoulders, his neck, his hair, his arms.

A warm, calloused palm suddenly seized one of Seungmin’s flailing wrists, then the other. His arms are wrenched up over his head, Changbin’s hand pressing down harshly into the delicate bones of his wrists.

Seungmin can’t do anything. Hands bound, legs useless, flattened and attacked like some offering from a god. Changbin’s hot mouth abuses his nipple and his chest surrounding it, his other hand gives his other nipple one last tweak before shooting up to his throat.

“Hyung!” Seungmin chokes out. 

Changbin’s pounding into him faster now, those brutal shockwaves shaking his guts, his skeleton. Each thrust pushes him into Changbin’s hand around his throat, a pressure that makes his head swim.

There’s nothing he can do but take it. He tugs weakly on his arms, too lost in pleasure to try hard. But the burning in his biceps just completes the total-body sting he’s experiencing.

Every nerve ending is alight. Heat and pressure build from his core to his neck to his wrists. He feels like a volcano, liable to explode. A volcano, simply a release point to the earth’s pressure, when hidden motions beg for an eruption.

Seungmin’s blurry vision bounces with Changbin’s motions. His nipple is suddenly searingly cold as Changbin leaves it to bite his ear with his hot, wet mouth.

“Are you a good boy yet Seungminnie?”

A good boy? Seungmin doesn’t fucking know. He knows nothing but the unbearable fire all along his body.

“Now you see what happens when you mess with me? Push me too far?”

Yes. Yes, Seungmin sees. He sees and he loves and he’s actually just really desperate to come.

“‘M c-close,” he stutters out.

Changbin bites the lobe of his ear hard. The pain races down his spine and to his cock, hardening it even furthur, if that were possible. It’s rubbing so deliciously between their stomachs.

But it’s not enough to make him come.

“No, Seungminnie,” rasps Changbin, tightening his grips on Seungmin’s throat and wrists. “You take what I fucking give you. You don’t get a say in anything. You’re mine to punish.”

Seungmin whimpers, dizzy and hazy, and then Changbin is kissing him. Seungmin can’t do much more than open his mouth pliantly, letting Changbin do what he wishes.

And Changbin does. He sucks on each of Seungmin’s lips, licking into his mouth. He shoves his tongue inside, strokes harshly across every available surface.

Seungmin’s limp elbows flop by his head, unresisting in Changbin’s grip. His hips, too, flop limply, legs spread wide around Changbin’s waist. Seungmin gives up every ounce of rebellion and succumbs to Changbin completely.  

Changbin must feel it, the pliancy in Seungmin’s body, the complete relaxation in every inch of him.

He pulls back from his mouth, and releases his throat and wrists. Seungmin doesn’t move his arms.

“There we go. Now you’re getting it. Ready to be my good boy?”

Seungmin barely hears him. Can’t summon the strength to nod his head or form his lips into words.

Instead, sudden tears slipping from the corners of his eyes speak for him.

Changbin coos. “Aww. So pretty, Seungminnie.”

Seungmin doesn’t speak, his body is a livewire he can’t command.

Only Changbin can command it. “Good boys get orgasms, darling.” His hand wraps around Seungmin’s cock, his teeth find Seungmin’s raw nipple, and suddenly Seungmin is coming.

He screams, loud and scraping his throat as Changbin makes his back arch up off the bed. Wave after wave of searing pleasure wracks his helpless body. He shudders and twitches, his own hot cum landing on his stomach.

And still Changbin fucks him, slams into his greedy hole over and over and over with unflagging strength and power.

Seungmin’s face is hot, and the tear tracks on his temples freeze him and he keeps crying out, keeps coming until his back ceases its arch and his screams become sobs.

Changbin pounds out hitching breaths and staccato groans with his hips. Until his eyes close and his mouth gapes and he throws his head back and grinds into Seungmin. He’s gorgeous. A vision with his heaving pecs and rounded shoulders. Dripping sweat that catches the light.

Seungmin feels his cock pulse inside him, and he wishes he could feel Changbin’s warmth with his inner walls. 

Breathing hard, Seungmin’s sobs quickly die into sniffles, but the tears keep flowing. He feels wrung out. Like Changbin took every single drop from him, leaving nothing behind but phantom pleasure.

Changbin comes down from his high and blinks down at Seungmin. What he sees has his eyes softening, his little mouth quirking up.

“Oh, Seungmin-ah.”

He doesn’t pull out, just lays down, covering Seungmin with his warm, soft body. 

Seungmin lays motionless, arms still above his head, completely vulnerable.

Changbin wraps his thick arms around him and rolls them onto their sides. Seungmin’s legs and head wobble bonelessly, an utter ragdoll. 

“I’ve got you, baby.”

Only Changbin’s hold keeps him together, keeps him from melting all over the bed in a pile of flesh and bone. His soft dick slips out, and Seungmin doesn’t even twitch, too busy soaking up Changbin’s warmth.

That fog in his mind gets thicker with every passing moment. He’s just a body. Just a helpless body leeching warmth from the outside. Just a body quivering in delicious aftershocks on the inside.

In the sure strength of Changbin’s arms, Seungmin falls asleep.

***

The next morning, Changbin has warm eggs and coffee waiting on the table when Seungmin stumbles out of his room dressed in Changbin’s hoodie and Hyunjin’s boxers.

“Morning, hyung.” He rubs his eye with the back of one limp wrist, and Changbin’s heart squeezes.

His hair is in absolute adorable disarray, but Changbin’s gaze lingers on the red and purple marks on Seungmin’s neck.

“Hey, my good boy.”

Seungmin freezes for a moment, gaping at Changbin with wide eyes. 

Changbin chuckles, gut stirring slightly.

Then Seungmin lets a lazy, sly smile overtake his lips and continues toward the table, slipping into a chair.

“Hey yourself, shortstack.”

Changbin’s stomach clenches, a strange mixture of horniness and irritation. Not that it should be strange anymore. He and Seungmin have been doing this dance for years now. “Yah!”

Seungmin smirks and takes a bite of eggs.

Changbin shakes his head. He cannot let Seungmin derail him so easily.

“How are you feeling?”

Seungmin shoots him a deadpan look, jaw still working. He swallows, and Changbin tracks the bob of his throat hungrily.

“Like I got fucked within an inch of my life, hit by a truck, fucked again, hit by a train, and then fucked again.”

Changbin splutters, cheeks pinkening even as that curl of interest in his gut tightens. He always aims to please, except with Seungmin, who he aims to destroy. 

“So, good, then?” He hopes so. Because he feels good. Feels like he can take on the world. Feels refreshed and loose and happy.

Because last night was hella fun.

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Yes. Good.” He sips from the coffee, staring at Changbin all the while.

Changbin’s shoulders relax and he breathes a sigh of relief. In the heat of the moment, he never worries that he pushes too hard or goes too far. But afterwards, he always worries. Always finds it hard to believe that Seungmin actually likes when Changbin unleashes all his pent-up frustration on him.

And yet. Seungmin always reacts like this. Like Changbin’s stupid for wondering. For asking. For worrying. Like the answer should be obvious.

Changbin shakes himself a little and picks up his own fork.

“That’s good.”

“You?”

Changbin frowns in confusion at Seungmin. “Me?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes again, and Changbin’s hand itches to slap him for his insolence. He grabs his own knee instead.

“Yeah. How do you feel?”

“Oh.” Changbin looks down at his plate. He’s not a coward. Nor is he ignorant of his own emotions. If Seungmin wants to know, he’ll tell him.

“Great. Just really grateful that you let me be so rough. Let me not hold back. Let loose.” He sighs and looks up into Seungmin’s blank face. “I don’t have to keep myself on a tight leash with you. Only you.”

And Seungmin—atrocious, difficult, and awful man that he is—meets Changbin’s sincerity with a mocking burst of laughter.

Changbin frowns, crossing his arms and leaning back. “What?” he snaps.

“You think I let you do those things?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Seungmin leans forward, eyes wide in manic glee, way too many teeth in his smile. “You think that you are in charge? Steering the boat? Calling the shots? While I just sit back and don’t put up a fuss? Let you have your way? ”

“Well, you always put up a fuss, but…yeah. Pretty much. Is that not what we’ve been doing?”

“Oh, you fool,” Seungmin says.

Changbin’s knee-jerk reaction is to shout, “I’m not a fool!” Damn Seungmin, always impinging on his honor. The brat.

Seungmin shakes his head, grinning stupidly. He’s the one who looks like a fool right now.

Changbin waits, wound tightly, but Seungmin just goes back to his breakfast that Changbin so thoughtfully provided because he really, really loves his dongsaeng.

And when Seungmin looks up at him briefly, just to snort and shake his head again, Changbin gets the distinct feeling that he’s been caught in Seungmin’s web. Again. Victim to his infuriating, wonderful games.

He sighs and rubs his temples.

It’s too damn early for this.