Universal Tongues - Jun Hyuck/Hiroto [oneshot]
Title: Universal Tongues
Author: beyondtheremix
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Lee Jun Hyuck/Hiroto, Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: The Seed (더 씨드)/Alice Nine
Warning/Disclaimer: PWP
Comment: A very very very late birthday fic request thing for gackutolove URGH. And in case you're wondering what The Seed sounds like, here is the song I pictured him singing and here is a different preview song/video for the lulz because the man is a spazz in everything he does...
Universal Tongues
Jun Hyuck really just did not give a fuck anymore.
Pacing the halls he prayed to whatever gods he had left to pray to, hoped to Hell he would get his life back together and soon. A bored Friday night, four too many drinks and he'd found himself on a flight to Japan. He was in a completely different country, getting ready to perform an impromptu set list no less. Scoffing, he kicked at a folding chair backstage, crossing his arms and flopping back against the wall. Fuck it. If the rest of the band wanted to go to Japan so badly they sure as hell could have gone without him. He was nervous about performing in public like this, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Drums and guitars were universal, but the Korean language? Not so much. But it was a small venue and for that Jun Hyuck was thankful. They were up next after this last band's encore and no one knew them.
He could technically do whatever the fuck he wanted.
The vocalist smirked at the thought.
It didn't matter what he did so long as he filled up the time slot. The only thing that did matter was presence, presence and impact. They didn't have any of their usual roadies or techies, just the venue's staff and security, but they could do this. He could do this.
"Hyuck!"
Boots squeaking and grin ever-widening, he moved forward to help set up.
This certainly would be an experience.
---
Grinning at his mobile screen, Hiroto stabbed back a reply and tossed his phone into the passenger seat, putting his car in reverse and backing out into the street.
Race you to the venue.
He was supposed to pick Shou up so they could go see a mutual friend's first indie live, but apparently now it was a race. Stepping on the gas, Hiroto could only hope there would be a parking spot somewhere close by; he did not feel like paying for one of Shou's apple martinis just because the lots were full. What was so disgusting about an ice cold beer? They were perfectly acceptable for a rock show, not to mention a lot cheaper.
Shaking his head once he had parked, sneakered feet already beginning to pound asphalt, Hiroto skidded to a stop in front of the club doors just in time to have Shou step out of the shadows and push him out of the way.
"Shou!"
Laughing softly behind his hand, the older man slipped into the building with a wink.
Forcibly stopping himself from pouting and stomping his feet, Hiroto fished his ID out of his wallet and was granted entry as well.
---
"You cheated! That doesn't count," Hiroto huffed out with a playful shove to emphasize his point.
"No, your legs are just too short," Shou teased, managing to keep his footing and hold a hand out for his drink at the same time. "I was already waiting out front for you anyways. Told you the bus was faster." Nevertheless, he paid for his own drink, purposefully stepping on the younger's heels as they tromped towards the stage to wait.
They had come extra early just so they could stand here so close to the edge.
---
"So he's the lead singer, right?" Hiroto asked, guzzling his first beer of the night and eyeballing the venue, stretching up on his toes to try and catch a glimpse backstage.
"Right," Shou nodded, shoving the other back down onto his heels and taking a sip from his drink. "We'll get to meet them backstage later so save the dancing for when someone's actually onstage."
Choking on his beer from the sudden jousting, Hiroto bounced on his heels in anticipation. Up and coming bands were always interesting to watch. They reminded him of Alice Nine when they first started out, of himself. The nervous energy, learning what worked and what didn't, getting to know the stage. Tonight he would get to watch it all unfold band after band.
---
Soft tittering and polite clapping welcomed Jun Hyuck to the stage.
In the dispersing crowd, Shou and Hiroto watched the last act of the night set up in the hazy warm air of the club.
"Come on," Shou tugged on the younger man's arm, "Let's go."
But the lights were already dimming once again with the tuning of instruments and Hiroto shook his head, "I'll meet you back there later. I want to watch this last band too." After all, they were so different. Each band and their music was so unique, Hiroto didn't want to miss it. You never knew what you would find at these sorts of lives, budding talent and melodic spins, a foreign newness Hiroto found inspiring; twists and new mixes that made him wish he had his guitar and laptop so he could record the music being created and recreated in his head.
Shrugging, Shou turned, mouthing an, "I'll call you," and miming it with his hand as he left. It was really his friend anyway, Shou had only dragged Hiroto along because he knew the younger would've stayed holed up with his guitar in his bedroom all Friday night if he hadn't called.
It didn't help that Tora had taken to staying over at Hiroto's place to make things easier while they brainstormed for recording - the older guitarist was just as much a musical hermit. Shaking his head, Shou dialed his friend's number and headed towards the staff entrance.
---
The first thought that filtered through Hiroto's system as he looked up onto the stage was, I wish I looked like that. He'd always been jealous of Tora's broad shoulders, tall and manly frame; of Shou's long legs and perfect features even without makeup; but this was entirely different. The man onstage was more toned than either of his friends, slim but not stick thin with a lot more muscle. Biting his lip, Hiroto tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, suddenly feeling very small and inadequate and frail as the sharp eyed vocalist slunk over to curl his fist around the microphone. He briefly wondered if this was supposed to be so arousing, but then he was distracted from all modes of thinking when the band started to play.
Hiroto stood there entranced as the singer began to move, clothes clinging just barely to such an able body, swaying to a deep bass, as if they were ready to slip clean off him and onto the stage, as if he weren't wearing any clothes at all. Then he started to sing - wailing, hissing, growling and playing up a crowd that was murmuring, boiling down with the night. Hiroto stood glued to the spot. They couldn't understand him. He was winding up notes and screaming out English obscenities, but what he sang was in an entirely different language. And Hiroto wanted to hear more.
He wanted unique and this was definitely something. It was gibberish mixed in with swears and demonic laughter, but the passion was clear. The band's charisma translated easily through sound and the way boots slammed heavily onto the stage, as if this wasn't their first time.
They knew how to work the stage, that much was clear. And the crowd.
At first the club's patrons were confused, drifting further away and out the door. But they couldn't deny the skill and talent being displayed onstage. They began to mill about in clusters, mostly dolled up women with colorful drinks. And Hiroto. The singer was attractive and they all knew it, forceful in a way that had the small guitarist's knees shaking. Everything was sweat stained shirts, blaring lyrics reaching a climax, and Hiroto had to swallow hard to keep his mouth from gaping open when the vocalist finally ripped his half-buttoned shirt clean off his chest.
He stared. It seemed as if that was all he was capable of doing. Droplets of sweat glistened in the light, slipping down a rippling abdomen, down, down, down, past a belly button to the very low brim of an elastic waistband followed by barely held up jeans. They were so low, slipping lower, and Hiroto was so close to the stage he could make out the tiny veins leading down a smooth belly and towards a well-endowed bulge.
Licking suddenly dry lips, Hiroto couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to lick someone's chest so badly, to taste and touch the curve of muscles and salty slick wet of sweat. Black letters spelled out "Rape me" across the singer's chest and Hiroto couldn't quite contain the soft whimper when the man on stage slunk closer and purred into the mic, looking down into the crowd and making eye contact.
Rape me. He knew what those words meant, Nirvana lyrics spinning dizzily through his head, the laugh he'd shared with Reita over one of his photo shoots stealing the breath from his lips. Hiroto's eyes burned up at the man standing there nonchalantly half-dressed. He wanted more. More. The markered words bled through his thoughts, mixing with unintelligible lyrics and he wanted more, wanted to hear that voice whispering, groaning, moaning things he couldn't understand in his ear. Almost unconsciously he found himself mouthing along, face tilted up towards the stage and skin too hot from beer and the bodies so close and yet so far.
Rape me.
---
Jun Hyuck smirked as he tromped off stage, dragging a heavy equipment case and guzzling down his second bottle of water. If the crowd's faces were anything to go by, he'd definitely made his mark. Now to make it through today and tomorrow night and back to Korea in one piece. With definitely no drinking in between. He needed to be tired though, to stay out of trouble, but adrenaline was still shaking through his veins from the performance, making his fingers tingle and feet itch restlessly to do something.
The heady surge of energy had him grinning like a wild man and he didn't care, thanking the venue's staff in slaughtered Japanese before spinning idly through the narrow back hallways towards the exit. The building was quickly emptying, light switches flicked behind them. It was there, letting his shoulders brush against the walls of a half-lit corridor, Jun Hyuck smacked straight into a small frame.
The body bounced off his chest and fell onto the floor with their combined momentum and a muffled swear. Stooping down to help the other up, Jun Hyuck was met with the familiar sight of wide eyes, plush lips and fluffy hair - all that had been gaping up at him from the crowd and now gawking up at him from the floor.
Rape me.
He'd seen it.
---
Hiroto wound up dragged to his feet by the collar with a wicked grin, back pressed to the wall, thigh nudged between his legs as his breath was decidedly stolen.
At some point Jun Hyuck had lost what was right and didn't know what the fuck it meant to be wrong anymore, right now he certainly had no qualms about fucking this stranger in the hall where people could see. And it was a he; Jun Hyuck knew, but he didn't care. He'd had more than his fair share of experimenting and he was in an entirely different country after all. It didn't matter what he did so long as he showed up to the airport on time.
The dazed look and tongue flicking out to lick swelling lips weren't helping either.
---
Hiroto stood their waiting, pressing needily down onto the other's knee and wondering what the hell he was doing while the other reached a decision. His breath hitched as the foreign singer bent down to lick past his lips, hand burning across his lower belly, and then he was gone, leaving Hiroto's legs weak and heart racing against the wall.
---
Wordlessly, Jun Hyuck beckoned with a finger, smirking when the smaller man followed.
If he played his cards right he would have entertainment til the cock crowed. Preferably his.
---
They ended up in Hiroto's flat, hasty goodbyes exchanged between band mates in separate languages and then Hiroto's car was squealing down the road, music blaring hard and gritty while wheels jerked every time Jun Hyuck reached over to taste and touch. Someone in the cramped venue hall had been kind enough to help them exchange names at least, although it was with a worried tone. Hiroto's thoughts were distracted however, as bare feet pattered quickly after him, bedroom door opening, closing, and then he was being shoved onto his own bed.
The devilish look Jun Hyuck gave him as he crawled over, yanking clothes off and biting into a plush lip, was enough to have the tiny guitarist's mind blanking. He was trying to fumble out a condom and lube, but now there were fingers scritch-scratching up his spine, pulling him forward. Hiroto couldn't think, couldn't do anything but pant and arch because even the other's smell was intoxicating.
Everything was forgotten as Jun Hyuck demanded something in his ear and, for the second time that night, all touching ceased.
Confused, Hiroto sat up, chest heaving and staring at the curve of a built back. Jun Hyuck grinned over his shoulder, continued to sit on the edge of Hiroto's bed making no move other than to give the floor space between his parted legs a pointed look, then meeting Hiroto's eyes. Wordlessly, Hiroto crawled over the sheets, feet thumping onto the carpeted floor followed by bare knees to obey.
---
Tora was sure he was seeing wrong.
Blinking from the living room couch, he squinted and watched as Hiroto stumbled into the hall, a larger man hot on his heels. They didn't notice him in the dark, simply tripped towards the bedroom, footsteps stopping halfway for a few seconds of heavy breathing and wet kissing. A spike of jealousy burned through his chest and Tora was up and following silently behind them.
---
Jun Hyuck never said a word but Hiroto knew what to do.
He was on his knees in his own room, breathing thickly and swallowing, pushing forward, lips sliding back.
Smirking lazily through the haze of pleasure, Jun Hyuck threaded his fingers through silky hair and tugged, slowly guiding Hiroto's head back so he could watch his arousal slip from between swollen pretty lips and bop the other on the nose.
He laughed softly and grabbed the abandoned condom and lube.
---
From his crack in the doorway, Tora watched with heated eyes as Hiroto's face slipped in and out of view, dipping between taut, strained thighs and bobbing up and down. He had to restrain a growl when the stranger's cock left a wet streak against Hiroto's cheek.
Hands curling into fists, Tora resigned himself to wait and watch, stomach roiling with a possession and want he didn't know if he was supposed to feel.
He couldn't deny how good they looked.
He'd let them have their fun.
For now.
---
Hiroto decided there was nothing at all wrong about this when Jun Hyuck's slick fingers dug into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and forced them wider. It was Friday night, he wanted to have fun, and when the other man finally sunk all the way in it felt good. Heaving in deep breaths of thickening air, Hiroto's hands slid up the sweaty chest before him, touching, memorizing because he was sure this was last time he'd get to see it, feel it. But then Jun Hyuck started moving and he had to grab onto ample shoulders to stop from completely losing his mind as he was fucked into the side of the bed.
They hadn't even bothered getting back up onto the sheets, Hiroto looked to good on his knees. Instead Jun Hyuck had pressed him into the carpet, prepped him and proceeded to fuck him. Hips slammed in at just the right angle and pulled a low whine from Hiroto's lips. Their bodies were pressed so close together now, Jun Hyuck crowding Hiroto against the foot of his own bed, upsetting the sheets and staining the duvet with sweat.
Groaning, Hiroto didn't care. He was being pushed and shoved, fucked, used and controlled in his own room, and he didn't care. It felt too good. It was amazing strength and power, raw energy, fucking him senseless. Hiroto didn't even notice when a large hand came up to fist in his hair, yanking his head back onto the covers for access to his neck; the burn of his skull and stinging nips to his neck only added to the pleasure.
So much, so good.
Jun Hyuck's knees and toes were digging into the carpet with a frightening leverage that had Hiroto seeing stars, body practically being fucked up back onto his bed as he came, lips trembling with exertion and hips still riding down into each thrust even as Jun's pounding picked up.
---
The soft stuttered 'iku' was all Jun Hyuck needed to hear before his fucking took on all new levels of wild.
He was going to make this bitch scream.
---
Hiroto could hardly recall his own name by the time Jun Hyuck left, hand tousling his hair up in an irritatingly fond way. He was too tired to care, boneless with a fine tremor to his limbs that had set in after the first dry orgasm and, he was sure, would probably cling to his body for the next day or two.
Shivering - they had finally gotten to fucking on the bed - Hiroto shifted slowly onto his side and pulled weakly at the dirty covers.
---
Seething, Tora watched from the shadows as the stranger finally took his leave before stalking back to the sofa.
He'd give Hiroto his night's rest.
But tomorrow was his.
A/N:
Pon has a universal tongue. It fits with all sorts of cock I mean...
HERE. HAVE YOUR REQUEST DAMMIT LOL *headdesk*
Sorry it sucks, I really just couldn't write anymore and just BLAH. It's posted so THERE.
To anyone else reading this: Jun Hyuck is a freak :D
It doesn't really matter how you Romanize his name because Korean doesn't have any official Romanization so... his name is 이준혁 but I typed it Jun Hyuck. To learn more about his band or to find more Korean rock bands, feel free to join bandseed or korean_rock LOL ♥
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Lee Jun Hyuck/Hiroto, Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: The Seed (더 씨드)/Alice Nine
Warning/Disclaimer: PWP
Comment: A very very very late birthday fic request thing for gackutolove URGH. And in case you're wondering what The Seed sounds like, here is the song I pictured him singing and here is a different preview song/video for the lulz because the man is a spazz in everything he does...
Universal Tongues
Jun Hyuck really just did not give a fuck anymore.
Pacing the halls he prayed to whatever gods he had left to pray to, hoped to Hell he would get his life back together and soon. A bored Friday night, four too many drinks and he'd found himself on a flight to Japan. He was in a completely different country, getting ready to perform an impromptu set list no less. Scoffing, he kicked at a folding chair backstage, crossing his arms and flopping back against the wall. Fuck it. If the rest of the band wanted to go to Japan so badly they sure as hell could have gone without him. He was nervous about performing in public like this, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Drums and guitars were universal, but the Korean language? Not so much. But it was a small venue and for that Jun Hyuck was thankful. They were up next after this last band's encore and no one knew them.
He could technically do whatever the fuck he wanted.
The vocalist smirked at the thought.
It didn't matter what he did so long as he filled up the time slot. The only thing that did matter was presence, presence and impact. They didn't have any of their usual roadies or techies, just the venue's staff and security, but they could do this. He could do this.
"Hyuck!"
Boots squeaking and grin ever-widening, he moved forward to help set up.
This certainly would be an experience.
---
Grinning at his mobile screen, Hiroto stabbed back a reply and tossed his phone into the passenger seat, putting his car in reverse and backing out into the street.
Race you to the venue.
He was supposed to pick Shou up so they could go see a mutual friend's first indie live, but apparently now it was a race. Stepping on the gas, Hiroto could only hope there would be a parking spot somewhere close by; he did not feel like paying for one of Shou's apple martinis just because the lots were full. What was so disgusting about an ice cold beer? They were perfectly acceptable for a rock show, not to mention a lot cheaper.
Shaking his head once he had parked, sneakered feet already beginning to pound asphalt, Hiroto skidded to a stop in front of the club doors just in time to have Shou step out of the shadows and push him out of the way.
"Shou!"
Laughing softly behind his hand, the older man slipped into the building with a wink.
Forcibly stopping himself from pouting and stomping his feet, Hiroto fished his ID out of his wallet and was granted entry as well.
---
"You cheated! That doesn't count," Hiroto huffed out with a playful shove to emphasize his point.
"No, your legs are just too short," Shou teased, managing to keep his footing and hold a hand out for his drink at the same time. "I was already waiting out front for you anyways. Told you the bus was faster." Nevertheless, he paid for his own drink, purposefully stepping on the younger's heels as they tromped towards the stage to wait.
They had come extra early just so they could stand here so close to the edge.
---
"So he's the lead singer, right?" Hiroto asked, guzzling his first beer of the night and eyeballing the venue, stretching up on his toes to try and catch a glimpse backstage.
"Right," Shou nodded, shoving the other back down onto his heels and taking a sip from his drink. "We'll get to meet them backstage later so save the dancing for when someone's actually onstage."
Choking on his beer from the sudden jousting, Hiroto bounced on his heels in anticipation. Up and coming bands were always interesting to watch. They reminded him of Alice Nine when they first started out, of himself. The nervous energy, learning what worked and what didn't, getting to know the stage. Tonight he would get to watch it all unfold band after band.
---
Soft tittering and polite clapping welcomed Jun Hyuck to the stage.
In the dispersing crowd, Shou and Hiroto watched the last act of the night set up in the hazy warm air of the club.
"Come on," Shou tugged on the younger man's arm, "Let's go."
But the lights were already dimming once again with the tuning of instruments and Hiroto shook his head, "I'll meet you back there later. I want to watch this last band too." After all, they were so different. Each band and their music was so unique, Hiroto didn't want to miss it. You never knew what you would find at these sorts of lives, budding talent and melodic spins, a foreign newness Hiroto found inspiring; twists and new mixes that made him wish he had his guitar and laptop so he could record the music being created and recreated in his head.
Shrugging, Shou turned, mouthing an, "I'll call you," and miming it with his hand as he left. It was really his friend anyway, Shou had only dragged Hiroto along because he knew the younger would've stayed holed up with his guitar in his bedroom all Friday night if he hadn't called.
It didn't help that Tora had taken to staying over at Hiroto's place to make things easier while they brainstormed for recording - the older guitarist was just as much a musical hermit. Shaking his head, Shou dialed his friend's number and headed towards the staff entrance.
---
The first thought that filtered through Hiroto's system as he looked up onto the stage was, I wish I looked like that. He'd always been jealous of Tora's broad shoulders, tall and manly frame; of Shou's long legs and perfect features even without makeup; but this was entirely different. The man onstage was more toned than either of his friends, slim but not stick thin with a lot more muscle. Biting his lip, Hiroto tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, suddenly feeling very small and inadequate and frail as the sharp eyed vocalist slunk over to curl his fist around the microphone. He briefly wondered if this was supposed to be so arousing, but then he was distracted from all modes of thinking when the band started to play.
Hiroto stood there entranced as the singer began to move, clothes clinging just barely to such an able body, swaying to a deep bass, as if they were ready to slip clean off him and onto the stage, as if he weren't wearing any clothes at all. Then he started to sing - wailing, hissing, growling and playing up a crowd that was murmuring, boiling down with the night. Hiroto stood glued to the spot. They couldn't understand him. He was winding up notes and screaming out English obscenities, but what he sang was in an entirely different language. And Hiroto wanted to hear more.
He wanted unique and this was definitely something. It was gibberish mixed in with swears and demonic laughter, but the passion was clear. The band's charisma translated easily through sound and the way boots slammed heavily onto the stage, as if this wasn't their first time.
They knew how to work the stage, that much was clear. And the crowd.
At first the club's patrons were confused, drifting further away and out the door. But they couldn't deny the skill and talent being displayed onstage. They began to mill about in clusters, mostly dolled up women with colorful drinks. And Hiroto. The singer was attractive and they all knew it, forceful in a way that had the small guitarist's knees shaking. Everything was sweat stained shirts, blaring lyrics reaching a climax, and Hiroto had to swallow hard to keep his mouth from gaping open when the vocalist finally ripped his half-buttoned shirt clean off his chest.
He stared. It seemed as if that was all he was capable of doing. Droplets of sweat glistened in the light, slipping down a rippling abdomen, down, down, down, past a belly button to the very low brim of an elastic waistband followed by barely held up jeans. They were so low, slipping lower, and Hiroto was so close to the stage he could make out the tiny veins leading down a smooth belly and towards a well-endowed bulge.
Licking suddenly dry lips, Hiroto couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to lick someone's chest so badly, to taste and touch the curve of muscles and salty slick wet of sweat. Black letters spelled out "Rape me" across the singer's chest and Hiroto couldn't quite contain the soft whimper when the man on stage slunk closer and purred into the mic, looking down into the crowd and making eye contact.
Rape me. He knew what those words meant, Nirvana lyrics spinning dizzily through his head, the laugh he'd shared with Reita over one of his photo shoots stealing the breath from his lips. Hiroto's eyes burned up at the man standing there nonchalantly half-dressed. He wanted more. More. The markered words bled through his thoughts, mixing with unintelligible lyrics and he wanted more, wanted to hear that voice whispering, groaning, moaning things he couldn't understand in his ear. Almost unconsciously he found himself mouthing along, face tilted up towards the stage and skin too hot from beer and the bodies so close and yet so far.
Rape me.
---
Jun Hyuck smirked as he tromped off stage, dragging a heavy equipment case and guzzling down his second bottle of water. If the crowd's faces were anything to go by, he'd definitely made his mark. Now to make it through today and tomorrow night and back to Korea in one piece. With definitely no drinking in between. He needed to be tired though, to stay out of trouble, but adrenaline was still shaking through his veins from the performance, making his fingers tingle and feet itch restlessly to do something.
The heady surge of energy had him grinning like a wild man and he didn't care, thanking the venue's staff in slaughtered Japanese before spinning idly through the narrow back hallways towards the exit. The building was quickly emptying, light switches flicked behind them. It was there, letting his shoulders brush against the walls of a half-lit corridor, Jun Hyuck smacked straight into a small frame.
The body bounced off his chest and fell onto the floor with their combined momentum and a muffled swear. Stooping down to help the other up, Jun Hyuck was met with the familiar sight of wide eyes, plush lips and fluffy hair - all that had been gaping up at him from the crowd and now gawking up at him from the floor.
Rape me.
He'd seen it.
---
Hiroto wound up dragged to his feet by the collar with a wicked grin, back pressed to the wall, thigh nudged between his legs as his breath was decidedly stolen.
At some point Jun Hyuck had lost what was right and didn't know what the fuck it meant to be wrong anymore, right now he certainly had no qualms about fucking this stranger in the hall where people could see. And it was a he; Jun Hyuck knew, but he didn't care. He'd had more than his fair share of experimenting and he was in an entirely different country after all. It didn't matter what he did so long as he showed up to the airport on time.
The dazed look and tongue flicking out to lick swelling lips weren't helping either.
---
Hiroto stood their waiting, pressing needily down onto the other's knee and wondering what the hell he was doing while the other reached a decision. His breath hitched as the foreign singer bent down to lick past his lips, hand burning across his lower belly, and then he was gone, leaving Hiroto's legs weak and heart racing against the wall.
---
Wordlessly, Jun Hyuck beckoned with a finger, smirking when the smaller man followed.
If he played his cards right he would have entertainment til the cock crowed. Preferably his.
---
They ended up in Hiroto's flat, hasty goodbyes exchanged between band mates in separate languages and then Hiroto's car was squealing down the road, music blaring hard and gritty while wheels jerked every time Jun Hyuck reached over to taste and touch. Someone in the cramped venue hall had been kind enough to help them exchange names at least, although it was with a worried tone. Hiroto's thoughts were distracted however, as bare feet pattered quickly after him, bedroom door opening, closing, and then he was being shoved onto his own bed.
The devilish look Jun Hyuck gave him as he crawled over, yanking clothes off and biting into a plush lip, was enough to have the tiny guitarist's mind blanking. He was trying to fumble out a condom and lube, but now there were fingers scritch-scratching up his spine, pulling him forward. Hiroto couldn't think, couldn't do anything but pant and arch because even the other's smell was intoxicating.
Everything was forgotten as Jun Hyuck demanded something in his ear and, for the second time that night, all touching ceased.
Confused, Hiroto sat up, chest heaving and staring at the curve of a built back. Jun Hyuck grinned over his shoulder, continued to sit on the edge of Hiroto's bed making no move other than to give the floor space between his parted legs a pointed look, then meeting Hiroto's eyes. Wordlessly, Hiroto crawled over the sheets, feet thumping onto the carpeted floor followed by bare knees to obey.
---
Tora was sure he was seeing wrong.
Blinking from the living room couch, he squinted and watched as Hiroto stumbled into the hall, a larger man hot on his heels. They didn't notice him in the dark, simply tripped towards the bedroom, footsteps stopping halfway for a few seconds of heavy breathing and wet kissing. A spike of jealousy burned through his chest and Tora was up and following silently behind them.
---
Jun Hyuck never said a word but Hiroto knew what to do.
He was on his knees in his own room, breathing thickly and swallowing, pushing forward, lips sliding back.
Smirking lazily through the haze of pleasure, Jun Hyuck threaded his fingers through silky hair and tugged, slowly guiding Hiroto's head back so he could watch his arousal slip from between swollen pretty lips and bop the other on the nose.
He laughed softly and grabbed the abandoned condom and lube.
---
From his crack in the doorway, Tora watched with heated eyes as Hiroto's face slipped in and out of view, dipping between taut, strained thighs and bobbing up and down. He had to restrain a growl when the stranger's cock left a wet streak against Hiroto's cheek.
Hands curling into fists, Tora resigned himself to wait and watch, stomach roiling with a possession and want he didn't know if he was supposed to feel.
He couldn't deny how good they looked.
He'd let them have their fun.
For now.
---
Hiroto decided there was nothing at all wrong about this when Jun Hyuck's slick fingers dug into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and forced them wider. It was Friday night, he wanted to have fun, and when the other man finally sunk all the way in it felt good. Heaving in deep breaths of thickening air, Hiroto's hands slid up the sweaty chest before him, touching, memorizing because he was sure this was last time he'd get to see it, feel it. But then Jun Hyuck started moving and he had to grab onto ample shoulders to stop from completely losing his mind as he was fucked into the side of the bed.
They hadn't even bothered getting back up onto the sheets, Hiroto looked to good on his knees. Instead Jun Hyuck had pressed him into the carpet, prepped him and proceeded to fuck him. Hips slammed in at just the right angle and pulled a low whine from Hiroto's lips. Their bodies were pressed so close together now, Jun Hyuck crowding Hiroto against the foot of his own bed, upsetting the sheets and staining the duvet with sweat.
Groaning, Hiroto didn't care. He was being pushed and shoved, fucked, used and controlled in his own room, and he didn't care. It felt too good. It was amazing strength and power, raw energy, fucking him senseless. Hiroto didn't even notice when a large hand came up to fist in his hair, yanking his head back onto the covers for access to his neck; the burn of his skull and stinging nips to his neck only added to the pleasure.
So much, so good.
Jun Hyuck's knees and toes were digging into the carpet with a frightening leverage that had Hiroto seeing stars, body practically being fucked up back onto his bed as he came, lips trembling with exertion and hips still riding down into each thrust even as Jun's pounding picked up.
---
The soft stuttered 'iku' was all Jun Hyuck needed to hear before his fucking took on all new levels of wild.
He was going to make this bitch scream.
---
Hiroto could hardly recall his own name by the time Jun Hyuck left, hand tousling his hair up in an irritatingly fond way. He was too tired to care, boneless with a fine tremor to his limbs that had set in after the first dry orgasm and, he was sure, would probably cling to his body for the next day or two.
Shivering - they had finally gotten to fucking on the bed - Hiroto shifted slowly onto his side and pulled weakly at the dirty covers.
---
Seething, Tora watched from the shadows as the stranger finally took his leave before stalking back to the sofa.
He'd give Hiroto his night's rest.
But tomorrow was his.
A/N:
Pon has a universal tongue. It fits with all sorts of cock I mean...
HERE. HAVE YOUR REQUEST DAMMIT LOL *headdesk*
Sorry it sucks, I really just couldn't write anymore and just BLAH. It's posted so THERE.
To anyone else reading this: Jun Hyuck is a freak :D
It doesn't really matter how you Romanize his name because Korean doesn't have any official Romanization so... his name is 이준혁 but I typed it Jun Hyuck. To learn more about his band or to find more Korean rock bands, feel free to join bandseed or korean_rock LOL ♥
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