ISS 2014: for kaiosea
Title: 15/Love
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hoya/Sungyeol
Length: 5.7 words
Note: Hi! Sorry, this is extremely rushed, but I hope you enjoy it anyway and have a happy holiday.
To: kaiosea
From: Your Secret Santa
Howon’s always been hot, and Sungyeol’s not the only one who knows that. A soccer player like him, the centre midfielder, the captain, Howon’s as good as it gets, and it certainly doesn’t help that he’s lately bleached his hair blonde and let it grow out a little. Honestly, his hair reminds Sungyeol a little of Justin Bieber circa 2010, but none of that really matters when Sungyeol’s the one who gets to run his hand through Howon’s hair without any repercussion of being poked at by others for being just another one of Howon’s doting, “thirsty” fans… mainly because they’re alone in Sungyeol’s too-large apartment, and kind of because Howon’s as infatuated with Sungyeol as Sungyeol is with him.
It hadn’t always been this way.
Sungyeol doesn’t know jackshit about soccer. All he knows is that the soccer field is way too close to the tennis courts, and that there’s always been a history of weird rivalry between players of either sport, a typical male pissing contest for no reason, and that the tennis end had always been on the butt end of the figurative stick precisely because soccer is a team sport and tennis isn’t. It’s always been two or four players against - wait, is it eleven to a team in soccer? Sungyeol doesn’t know. He doesn’t like soccer.
But he does like Howon.
Howon’s an import, Sungyeol first hears. He’s from Busan, a rarity here where everyone seems to just be born and bred in Seoul, and everyone knew each other since they’d probably stuck each other’s fingers up each other’s noses in kindergarten. Sungyeol had snorted and said that’s not an import, he could have walked over here if he wanted, but his doubles partner and part-time drinking nemesis Sunggyu had insisted that Howon is something special. Sungyeol hadn’t believed it, not even when he saw Howon go onto the field, obvious and easy to spot since Sungyeol had grown accustomed to everyone else already on there, and Sungyeol had watched him run through the drills and warm ups with the rest of his team. Sure, he was the enviable possessor of some pretty impressive looking thighs and calves, but Sungyeol and his annoyance at the reverence that constantly and, in his opinion, sometimes baselessly surrounded the soccer team meant that Sungyeol might as well have been blind on making these observations.
How wrong he was.
***
Sungyeol had met him on a Tuesday. He'd begrudgingly let the others herd him towards the open bleachers lining one side of the soccer field to watch, and there were the obligatory jeers that were thrown their way, making Sungyeol wonder why they're even bothering, but it's obvious the soccer team likes that they have spectators on the notorious Quiet Tuesdays, and that the rest of Sungyeol's friends weren't as bothered by this as he was. "Free entertainment" Myungsoo had quipped once, as always kind of profound whenever he finally spoke up, and Sungyeol had grunted in vague agreement. He noted that the only person who hadn't joined in the challenging bellows was Howon, but still, Sungyeol struggled to give him credit. The look he gave over at them made Sungyeol uneasy. Unreadable, and Sungyeol had decided it was pretentiousness, at the same time that he realised that Howon was devastatingly good-looking, and Sungyeol had always thought having people like Myungsoo and Sungjong as tennis buddies meant that his tastes had calibrated themselves accordingly to higher standards, but still, Howon had managed to sweep the rug out from under Sungyeol's feet.
Sungyeol had been glad he'd been seated, otherwise his gangly and wholly-unreliable-in-the-presence-of-attractive-male might have betrayed him, and as much as Sungyeol had decided then he definitely Does Not want to hook up with Howon, he didn't want to give the soccer team more to snap at them about him falling over.
Howon moved effortlessly across the field, Sungyeol had definitely noticed that. He and Woohyun combined made for a force to be reckoned with, and Sungyeol found himself fidgeting, his eyes only fixated on Howon when he usually zoned out of such things as watching anything that wasn't tennis. He was thankful that nobody else seemed to notice his dumb staring, unmoving save for the ways his eyes did as he tracked Howon's movement, all until the last ten minutes when they were having a mock penalty shoot out and Howon had just scored a goal, his half of the split team whooping, and Howon was going around delivering high fives when he looked up and oh.
Their eyes had met and Sungyeol had wanted to clock himself over the head, mainly because it had been ridiculously cheesy and he swears that it hadn't happened that way.
It last two seconds at most. Subjectively though, Sungyeol felt like somebody had shoved him underwater and his senses had become distorted all but his sight, trained on Howon, Howon's fixated on him, time passing in loud tick ticks without actually passing at all. It wasn't until Howon was nudged into a hug that he had been forced to look away from Sungyeol, and the latter had cleared his throat and leaned against the bleachers behind him, staring up at the deepening murk of the sky as the sunset, face and neck blotched with colour. He knew all too well that Howon was looking at him again when the ordeal was over and the tennis players made a convenient disembarkment as the soccer players spread off to dismantle the flags and the goals, Sungyeol shuffling too close behind Sungjong, who kept throwing him dirty looks over his shoulder when Sungyeol stepped on the back of his sneakers.
"Sorry," Sungyeol had apologised with an uncomfortably sunny smile for the fourth time, and Sungjong had groaned and done his signature eye roll, all of them about to step off the field and onto the path that led right back up to the sport centre when a voice stopped them.
"Hey,"
Shit. Sungyeol, bringing up the back, was the first to stop but the rest of his friends do too, prickles of tension straining the air over them. It was Howon, flanked by nobody, and Sungyeol had reminded himself pretentious, pretentious, and that Howon's lack of stalkers didn't mean anything; didn't make him friendlier than, perhaps, Woohyun.
"I'm Howon. You guys play tennis over there, right? I heard some stuff,"
No shit, Sherlock, Sungyeol wanted to sneer, albeit nervously. What gave it away, our racket bags?
"Sure," Sungyeol managed finally, after realising he'd been gaping like a dead fish. "You're Howon, soccer extraordinaire. We heard 'stuff' too,"
He could feel Sungjong's eyes burning holes into the back of his head, wondering why Sungyeol was even addressing Howon such, with a challenging lilt in his voice when they couldn't afford to start a fight. Even a small one - both sides had received warnings about it ever since the incident with Sungyeol's brother and Dongwoo from the soccer team. Both thankfully gone by now, moved away for college or whatever else, but still a painful reminder as ever of the consequences of getting physical, a reminder that there were bigger fish than a couple of twenty somethings and under and their sporting spats.
One of Howon's brows raised, curious, and Sungyeol had noted that even Howon's sweat smelled kind of great.
(It's then Sungyeol wondered whether he was going insane. Sweat? Great?)
"Cool," Howon had finally replied, giving a slow nod. "Well, yeah, I'm Howon. It's nice to meet you guys. I heard what happened last year, and as captain of the team for this season, I'm gonna assure you that I'll do my best to keep the team in order, so feel free to watch whenever you want,"
Pretentious, PREtentious, Sungyeol chanted to himself, ignoring the tiny but defiant squeaks of denial, denial! That followed. That fucking conscience of his.
"Thanks," Sungyeol's face had burned up quickly, and he was hoping Howon would atttribute that to the humidity rather than his own attractiveness. Was he blushing? Jesus. Two minutes, Sungyeol had thought, two minutes of being face-to-face and he was already neck-deep. He didn't know what to say next; he'd dearly wanted to retort with something smart, like we don't like watching you that much anyway, but clearly they did and he would just seem unncessarily antagonising in the face of Howon being... nice, yes, nice, that was it. It was making things incredibly hard for Sungyeol, who, although not the captain or a leader of any sort (they didn't have one), felt obligated to do something on behalf of his friends, seeing as how he was the oldest, even if only by a few months to the next guy down.
"Have a good day," was how Sungyeol finished, and that had almost been it. He'd turned away and the rest of them with, only getting a half step out before Howon called for him to "wait!" and Sungyeol cursed because it made his heart leap into his throat, arms jittering with goosebumps. It had been some time since he had had a crush, and everything he was feeling, all of this euphoria, was hitting him like a ten thousand tonne freight train. Or a bucket of water from the depths of the Arctic.
"I didn't get a name?" Howon's voice is husky and nice and Sungyeol wouldn't mind listening to it all day. He turned and barely looked at the others, acknowledging he was the one stepping up and taking charge, no complaints from the others. He saw Howon's nervously polite smile, saw those lips pull up a bit to reveal cute canines and teeth can't be fucking cute, it isn't fair! but Sungyeol can only concentrate on them for a while before he'd scrounged together a name.
Wait, his name. Right.
"Sungyeol," he smiled back, and Howon had nodded. His skin looked all nice and tan under the floodlights that were starting to dim now that they were all scheduled to be off-field, and they'd both looked at each other like that, with a load of nothingness, before Sungjong had cleared his throat and Sungyeol was brought back to the reality that he was meant to be haughtily skipping off on these damn soccer players.
***
The next time Sungyeol had seen Howon was at the library. A curse, Sungyeol decides in hindsight. The seal on his previously blossoming crush, tentative, but after this particular experience, Sungyeol had been slam dunked right into the pool of infatuation. A place, Sungyeol was sure, was already overflowing, because there had never been doubts Howon would only become more popular around people his age due to his credentials. Sungyeol couldn't say he was jealous so much as he was wary: he'd always been around the same people all his life, right up until now, elementary school, high school, all of it, and with Howon in the mix, Sungyeol didn't know what to make of things anymore, who to trust. Being one person, having Howon present in the neighbourhood made things unforeseeably hard.
(Or maybe that was because Sungyeol was doing classic overreaction and analysis of everything plainly because he liked Howon, but he would never have admitted that at the start.)
It was horrible. Howon wore glasses, squinted as he read even with them on, and Sungyeol could just tell the guy was probably legally blind without them. Sungyeol was about to question why he hadn't worn any while he had been playing soccer, only to remind himself that contact lenses had been around since forever. At first, Howon hadn't seen Sungyeol: the library was relatively small to begin with, and the study area even more so, and though Sungyeol had wanted dearly to hightail it out of the place, he didn't know where he'd go off to even if he had. The reason he came to the library was because he needed - duh - a quiet place to study, and his neighbours had given him a whole week's notice about the party they were going to have today, so Sungyeol had no excuses.He could always duck around to Sungjong's, but Sungjong still lived with his family, and the sole reason Sungyeol had moved out was to escape the noise of a family.
No other choice. Sungyeol was easily embarrassed and a little prideful, but he was a practical guy.
He had tried to plant himself as discreetly as possible at the farthest table from Howon's, and thankfully, the soccer captain hadn't noticed him at first, too immersed in his cute squinting. Not that Sungyeol was really watching, of course not, but dressed in a white shirt and jeans, Howon looked much less than the guy Sungyeol had met before, and more one of the usual geeks Sungyeol saw seated around such tables. It was more than a little endearing and Sungyeol just barely got away with pretending to be looking at his humanities textbook when Howon got up and stretched, eyes settling on Sungyeol after a few seconds.
"Hey," Sungyeol's heart had never thrown itself so loudly against his ribcage and it even kind of hurt, looking up with a wobbly smile when he saw Howon there, standing by his table, looking oddly small too. It was only now that Sungyeol noticed that Howon is shorter than him, stockier. Usually a boost for his masculine pride, it only served to make Sungyeol's insides gnaw at themselves some more because everything about Howon was shaping up to be somehow adorable.
"Howon," Sungyeol's reply came out curt and Howon had looked affronted for a split second.
"Studying, huh?" Howon was stating something obvious again, but then Sungyeol realised he really had to stop holding that against Howon when the guy was just making the same kind of conversation anybody else would. "I've got some supplementary exams to do in the next few weeks. I moved right when it was exam time, so they went ahead and failed me,"
Sungyeol didn't ask for details.
"Yeah," he'd replied, flicking a finger against this textbook. "I failed one, gotta retake it,"
The silence is awkward, but not entirely uncomfortable.
"Well," Howon broke the silence eventually. "Good luck, man. I know I need it,"
He walked away, and that was it. Sungyeol wished he wasn't so nice. It made the next time Sungyeol see him on the soccer field all that much more unbearably endearing, and this time, everyone noticed how many times he threw looks over at the soccer players.
"Please don't tell me you're going to join the enemy," Sungjong mock-pleaded, and Sungyeol made a joke about the B.O and how he can't ignore it. Obviously, nobody had believed him, because that was about a stupid a reason as if Sungyeol had said something like I sense a disturbance in the Force, but since they couldn't attribute it to much else other than Sungyeol being Sungyeol and having a malfunction or something, they couldn't comment more.
He knew that his attention hadn't gone unnoticed either, because he felt Howon looking at him too whenever it was his turn to serve, shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of pale tummy.
(Sungyeol had hated it, but he had felt proud. Thrilled, even.)
Howon's presence in the shower rooms made Sungyeol jump.
It was late. Ten PM to be exact, but Sungyeol always hung back on Fridays when the sports centre was open until late, mostly for people who wanted to play baseball and squash, and Sungyeol had volunteered to help out at the food stations for when things got hectic. He had begun to sweat even in the air conditioning, and had stuck to resolving the issue quickly in the showers, even if they were kind of mucky and gross, because he already felt mucky and gross anyway, and he didn't want to sit through the twenty minute bus ride home saturating his clothes with sweat.
He was walking out of the stall, watching the steam fog up the mirrors when he'd spotted Howon off to the side, by the lockers, watching him. It was clear Howon needed to take a shower, what with the fact he was half naked and towelled up to the waist, which explained his presence, but it didn't explain the way he was staring at Sungyeol, transfixed, exactly the way, Sungyeol supposed, he'd been looking Howon over.
"Shit," Sungyeol rested his hands on the side of the sink, playing it safe, trying to make the whole situation seem lighthearted. For a split second, he wondered if he was about to be ambushed by the soccer team or something, luring into some overtly gay act and then humiliating him because of it. That wouldn't be new, and Sungyeol would very much prefer that that didn't get to beginning to happen at all, so he tried to shrug this all off, throwing Howon a trademark gummy grin. "Didn't see you there. Gonna take a shower?"
His voice came out more high pitched and kind of whiney, but at least it hadn't wavered. Sungyeol was very much grateful for that.
"Y-yeah," Howon had actually stammered, and Sungyeol had delighted in the fact that Howon didn't even seen embarrassed by that fact. His fellow soccer players had always had so much bravado surrounding them that any such show of weakness should have been picked at and used to advantage, make Howon embarrassed, but Howon hadn't done anything wrong so far, and he was someone from Busan, all the way out here. Sungyeol had an unhealthy store of pride sometimes, but he wasn't unduly mean. "Sorry, I was thinking,"
"I get it," Sungyeol knew he sounded more assured than he felt, because the clamminess was returning to his skin and he felt unstable on his feet. He was underwater again, the tiles beneath him seeming extra slippery and he nodded back towards the showers. He felt nervous and the tension spoke for itself, but he didn't want to confront it at all, part of him still thinking that this was a big joke and there were going to be posters of him red-faced over ~soccer extraordinaire~ Howon if he didn't watch himself. "Well, showers are that way. Do it fast, the hot water's almost out. End of the day and all. Don't want you turning into an ice cube,"
Howon didn't move for a while. He was watching Sungyeol, observing, like he was trying to get a better handle on Sungyeol, what to make of him. Sungyeol didn't know then what he could be making of Howon, and it was all unsettling, unfair that he was alone in here when usually there were three or four other guys, normally invasive and kind of annoying, but now more welcome as an interruption. Sungyeol tried desperately to see the situation as kind of creepy if only it meant he could focus on something else other than the freckles here and there on Howon's torso, but it didn't work. This was the stuff of porn, and Sungyeol couldn't help but think about how nice and firm Howon would have felt under his touch, and how nice under that towel--
"Leave you to it then," Sungyeol grabbed at his clothes, wondering when around Howon his brain had decided to drop the Is and I'lls in his sentences, but that would be something he could pick at later. Brushing by Howon to get to his locker was bad enough, and Sungyeol shivered despite the rush of heat he'd felt radiating from Howon.
He jacked off three times that night, and laid idly in bed after it all wondering how he was going to survive another encounter like that without jumping Howon.
***
He doesn't.
He doesn't, because the next time he sees Howon, Howon is blonde with his hair up off his forehead, slicked back like one of those anime characters, and Sungyeol can see Howon had purposefully left an inch of his roots black. It's one of those beautiful, messy things, and Sungyeol wants to tug at it, crunch his fingers against the hair wax, but those things are inappropriate in a club with so many witnesses, he figures. It's impossible to avoid Howon, though, because they run in the same circles now that Howon's been well and truly integrated into society here, and as much as Sungyeol had aimed to avoid Howon for the sake of keeping his dick in his pants, Howon seems to have other ideas.
"I was hoping you would come," even in the darkness, Sungyeol can tell Howon's blushing a little. He isn't holding alcohol in his hand - Sungyeol knows all too well about the beginning of the supplementary exams beginning tomorrow city-wide and he doubts someone like Howon would drink at all the night before. That, and Sungyeol knows water when he sees it.
"Sure," Sungyeol's saying, because he doesn't know how to respond. Howon just smiles, meek almost, and he gets greeted by a few people who openly look Sungyeol over with barely disguised indifference. They all knew each other after all, and Sungyeol ignores them, indifferent too.
"You look great tonight, Hoaegi! My man!" is Woohyun's entrance, and Howon looks apologetically at Sungyeol when Sungyeol's taking that as his cue and veering off, hoping to find someone he feels remotely okay with schlepping all his feelings about Howon to.
He finds nobody, really, but he's more than comfortable crashing with Chanshik and his girlfriend, Suji, in the couches by the back, nursing his extra tall glass of sparkling iced tea made to look like something that contained alcohol, spruced up with a lemon and unknown candied stuff around the edges. He sees the telling flash of Howon's blonde now and again, and tries desperately not to think of the things that usually entailed on nights like these. Howon's probably going to go back home with someone, Sungyeol decides contritely, while he makes no efforts to do nothing about him being incredibly jealous of that. How could he? Howon plays soccer, he plays tennis. It isn't Romeo and Juliet, but Sungyeol's pretty sure somebody would be ready to beat him up for trying to make a move on someone several rungs above him, newcomer or not. It's all about the sexuality thing, and Sungyeol came out eons ago, but it hadn't equalled total acceptance, of course not. And as obvious as Howon had been, Sungyeol didn't want to give him the benefit of the doubt when he was so close with someone like Nam Woohyun. No, Sungyeol isn't close to being that stupid.
Still, the rest of the night progresses in a sort of downward spiral that Sungyeol attributes to him not peeling himself away from Chanshik's side, who nicely comments little about Sungyeol's sour demeanour. Tact-wise, he's top notch, but Sungyeol kind of wishes Chanshik could be a little interrogative sometimes so Sungyeol can rant without seeming pressed. He needs a third party view, and Chanshik is neither a tennis or a soccer player. He's not even into sports, only pretending to be because he works as a bartender.
It's nearing the end of the night (read as: 12 AM, the beginning of it for many) when Sungyeol gets bored enough to leave. He trashes the cup that's still half full of something weak and makes his way to the men's, with every intention to piss into the nearest anything and leave, when a shock of blonde makes him stop dead in his tracks.
Howon's done washing his hands when his eyes meet Sungyeol's form in the reflection of the mirrors. It's awkward as it always has been between them, but this time Sungyeol can't really escape the fact he's ogling rather openly at Howon and the stretch of waxed denim over toned legs, and Howon's letting him without objection.
"Hey," Howon finally says, and he sounds hollow for some reason Sungyeol doesn't care for. Sungyeol nods and he makes a gesture at the cubicles, indicating the obvious and Howon nods and backs off a little.
Sungyeol hopes he doesn't leave.
It's awkward pissing like this, but Sungyeol does and when he comes out again, he can't breathe because Howon's still there by the sink. He can't even wonder for a moment about how tense and surreal this is, how he might be throwing himself at someone right after he's peed for fuck's sake, and how nothing will ever be as un-cliche, and how cliche that is in itself because he's such a damn hipster about this somehow--
Howon waits for him to wash his hands and Sungyeol's making a show of drying them when he's grabbed. Howon's fucking grabbing him and his shoulder hitting the dryer is sure to leave him with a nasty bruise, but Howon doesn't apologise and Sungyeol doesn't demand one, not when Howon's lips are hot over his, beautiful stretch of neck exposed because he's got to lean up to meet Sungyeol's mouth. Sungyeol feels only a little stupid for having his eyes open when they're kissing, but he can't help it, Howon's so good looking and Sungyeol feels like it's a total waste not to be appreciating that, slender fingers skating over the neoprene jacket that Howon's wearing, all the rage these days, and Sungyeol almost laughs at him for it. He would have, and made jokes about it, if it isn't for the fact Howon's prodding at Sungyeol's lips with his tongue, urging them open, and Sungyeol happily obliges, both of them seemingly very content with sucking at each other's face for a good ten minutes, the pound of music beyond the bathroom door the only accompaniment to the wet noises they made, interspersed with a moan here and there.
Sungyeol feels like he's in high school again or something.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this," is the corny line Howon delivers, and Sungyeol mentally scratches another mark in the tally he'd been keeping in his head of how cheesy and predictable this has all been, as much as he hadn't wanted it to happen at all. Out loud though, he can muster nothing, which seems fine to Howon, who keeps kissing him, hands gripping Sungyeol's arms so tight he's pretty sure Howon's cut off the circulation from below his elbows, which might explain why Sungyeol shakes when he's sliding a hand beneath Howon's jacket.
They kiss like that for a while, Sungyeol settling more comfortably against the grimy bathroom wall, Howon happy to lean into him, neck craned like that, and Sungyeol can finally feel that he's not all hard edges and lean muscle. Howon's skin is surprisingly soft and his breath hitches when Sungyeol's touches almost make it to a nipple, held when Sungyeol's hand slips away again.
He shoots Sungyeol a questioning look.
"S-somewhere else," Sungyeol finally stutters when Howon's knee presses encouragingly between his legs, kneading at the obvious, for an answer. "I don't-- Not here," because at the back of his mind, he's still aware that Howon is Woohyun's friend, and anything even vaguely Woohyun-ish does not bode well with Sungyeol. He's searching for cameras, microphones, anything, and it's awful because Howon looks so sincere and considerate that Sungyeol almost feels bad for being so cautious.
"Okay," Howon's saying. He kisses the corner of Sungyeol's lips and peels himself away, leading Sungyeol by the hand.
Sungyeol feels like he's found Nirvana.
***
They fall into Sungyeol's bed in a mess of clothes and limbs trying to wind free of said clothes, lips unable to stay apart and hands unable to be not touching and feeling and remembering. It's not Sungyeol's first time being laid back so lovingly, back curving off the bed as Howon inches down with his mouth, leaving marks here and there Sungyeol wishes would go away just as quickly as they've been sucked there so Howon can revisit. He finds he doesn't have to wait long at all because Howon, Soccer Extraordinaire, likes Sungyeol's flat tummy, and is apparently not satisfied until he's left Sungyeol's skin a livid red, and Sungyeol, in return, is ruining Howon's perfectly sculpted hair into something that resembles more like tumbleweed. Not that either of them take notice, especially when bare cocks bump together and Sungyeol groans louder than he would have liked - Howon, taking full notice, repeats the grinds he's making until Sungyeol's whining and pushing at Howon's shoulders for him to stop, stop, because Sungyeol feels like he can come from that, and he doesn't want that nearly as much as he wants Howon inside of him.
It doesn't take long after that.
Neither of them are first timers, that helps. Both of them are more over-excited than nervous, which turns out to be worse, because it takes Howon a few goes at pushing in, mind too focused on fucking Sungyeol that he's doing brilliantly at not fucking him, but Sungyeol doesn't complain. He can feel how stretched he's going to be around the girth of Howon's cock, but he only welcomes him in when Howon finally gets it right and Sungyeol's groaning, sounding more pinched and desperate than ever. The escalation from nothing to this makes it all the more incredible, and Howon's using a condom, but Sungyeol can feel everything as if that thin layer of latex isn't there at all as Howon starts moving, those hips too blessedly fluid for Howon to just be a damn soccer player, but Sungyeol doesn't time to curse at Howon's fantastic set of genes.
"G-god," Sungyeol's uttering, and he knows he's useless, laying there letting Howon rock into him, body stretched out leisurely so he can feel the full force of each of Howon's thrusts, but Howon doesn't seem to mind that either, taking full charge. Yet eventually, he has to, and finds himself smacking his ass off Howon's groin, reciprocating, both of them moving in a bit of a frenzy, Sungyeol bracing himself up on his elbows to give him the balance he needs to be meeting Howon halfway. Up close like this, Sungyeol notes the smattering of acne scars by the left side of Howon's jaw and it's painful how imperfectly perfect Howon is as Sungyeol gets himself together to keep his legs from slipping, and he hikes them up a little higher this time, swearing harshly when it means it has Howon slamming against his prostate--
Fuck.
Fuck. It's the only thing Sungyeol's capable of saying, apparently, when Howon's memorising how exactly he's got to move into Sungyeol to give his present lover maximum pleasure, and tears spring to Sungyeol's eyes because - "fuck" - he's definitely going to come soon, hard, and he almost blacks out when he does, jaw slack and eyes locked with Howon's, vision blurry, and the rapid flurry of Howon moving into him only tells Sungyeol in the haze that Howon's coming too.
***
The next morning, Sungyeol wakes up full of regrets. He's panicked now even when he's got Howon looking like the library geek he'd seen days before curled up against his chest, snoring away, innocent almost save for the fact he's naked and he kind of reeks like Sungyeol's cum. He's panicked because he's less taken by lust, struck by logic and possibility and over-analysis now, and Sungyeol desperately fumbles for his phone in the discarded piles of clothes around his bed in case he's got a slew of nasty messages waiting for him, the confrontation of which he'd rather do in Howon's practical absence. Eventually, he finds it, but not without stirring Howon, he murmurs something adorable and incoherent when he wakes and Sungyeol curses inwardly.
"G'morning,"
"Morning," Sungyeol replies tersely, and his throat feels like it's swollen when he unlocks his phone and...
Nothing.
Still, Sungyeol doesn't want to get his hopes up.
Howon senses Sungyeol's high strung nerves and he rubs a hand down Sungyeol's back. It does little, because Howon's kind of the source of all this, but Howon seems to get that too.
"It's going to be fine," he's saying, but Sungyeol can't help but shoot Sungjong a text message, testing the waters. A reply doesn't come instantly, and in those moments, Sungyeol feels like he might cry. Howon looks uncertain, and he makes a move to get his clothes and leave, presumably, which makes Sungyeol feel even worse, especially when he can see how sombre he's made Howon, but he can't bring himself to stop Howon, Soccer Extraordinaire when Sungyeol's got no confirmation he'd slept with a Big Mistake. Hell, Sungyeol doesn't even know why he needs the validation when he's got all he needs right here, and Howon's put on his dumb waxed jeans by the time he apparently collects the strength to talk again.
"I'm sorry. You must regret this,"
Sungyeol says nothing. Sungjong still hasn't replied, and Sungyeol wonders idly if Sungjong could be angry with him, or too caught up with fending gossip wildfire off to reply.
That's a little self-centered, Sungyeol's conscience sneers.
Sungyeol ignores it.
"But I like you a lot. I really wanted you to know that,"
And that, Sungyeol can't ignore.
"You're friends with Woohyun," he voices aloud, and for once he realises just how stupid that sounds. It even makes Howon scoff, and right then does Howon look pretentious, but he's half-naked too, and that works in his favour in warranting Sungyeol overlooking that fact. "We can't--,"
"Screw Woohyun," Howon interjects, then adds: "and we can. Please, Sungyeol?"
Sungyeol's silence chips away and Howon's patience, and it aggravates Sungyeol's too. He's pretty sure he's just trying to blame his own incompetence with coming to terms with his feelings for someone like Howon on something else, shifting his wariness to Woohyun, when he knows perfectly well that Howon's too sincere right now to be acting.
Sungyeol knows he'd be insane to reject Howon for an unfounded risk. God, he's so shit at this.
"I really like you," Howon reiterates, and Sungyeol doesn't need to hear it a third time, doesn't want to, and Howon can't repeat himself either because Sungyeol's mouth is smothering his in needy kisses. Howon makes a delighted noise against Sungyeol's lips, hands clenching in light clawings over Sungyeol's back, eagerly returning everything Sungyeol gave him.
And when one of his hands fall to grip at Sungyeol's ass, Sungyeol decides with finality that any worries he has can wait until after he's bedded Howon a second time.
(Or maybe after the third.)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hoya/Sungyeol
Length: 5.7 words
Note: Hi! Sorry, this is extremely rushed, but I hope you enjoy it anyway and have a happy holiday.
To: kaiosea
From: Your Secret Santa
Howon’s always been hot, and Sungyeol’s not the only one who knows that. A soccer player like him, the centre midfielder, the captain, Howon’s as good as it gets, and it certainly doesn’t help that he’s lately bleached his hair blonde and let it grow out a little. Honestly, his hair reminds Sungyeol a little of Justin Bieber circa 2010, but none of that really matters when Sungyeol’s the one who gets to run his hand through Howon’s hair without any repercussion of being poked at by others for being just another one of Howon’s doting, “thirsty” fans… mainly because they’re alone in Sungyeol’s too-large apartment, and kind of because Howon’s as infatuated with Sungyeol as Sungyeol is with him.
It hadn’t always been this way.
Sungyeol doesn’t know jackshit about soccer. All he knows is that the soccer field is way too close to the tennis courts, and that there’s always been a history of weird rivalry between players of either sport, a typical male pissing contest for no reason, and that the tennis end had always been on the butt end of the figurative stick precisely because soccer is a team sport and tennis isn’t. It’s always been two or four players against - wait, is it eleven to a team in soccer? Sungyeol doesn’t know. He doesn’t like soccer.
But he does like Howon.
Howon’s an import, Sungyeol first hears. He’s from Busan, a rarity here where everyone seems to just be born and bred in Seoul, and everyone knew each other since they’d probably stuck each other’s fingers up each other’s noses in kindergarten. Sungyeol had snorted and said that’s not an import, he could have walked over here if he wanted, but his doubles partner and part-time drinking nemesis Sunggyu had insisted that Howon is something special. Sungyeol hadn’t believed it, not even when he saw Howon go onto the field, obvious and easy to spot since Sungyeol had grown accustomed to everyone else already on there, and Sungyeol had watched him run through the drills and warm ups with the rest of his team. Sure, he was the enviable possessor of some pretty impressive looking thighs and calves, but Sungyeol and his annoyance at the reverence that constantly and, in his opinion, sometimes baselessly surrounded the soccer team meant that Sungyeol might as well have been blind on making these observations.
How wrong he was.
***
Sungyeol had met him on a Tuesday. He'd begrudgingly let the others herd him towards the open bleachers lining one side of the soccer field to watch, and there were the obligatory jeers that were thrown their way, making Sungyeol wonder why they're even bothering, but it's obvious the soccer team likes that they have spectators on the notorious Quiet Tuesdays, and that the rest of Sungyeol's friends weren't as bothered by this as he was. "Free entertainment" Myungsoo had quipped once, as always kind of profound whenever he finally spoke up, and Sungyeol had grunted in vague agreement. He noted that the only person who hadn't joined in the challenging bellows was Howon, but still, Sungyeol struggled to give him credit. The look he gave over at them made Sungyeol uneasy. Unreadable, and Sungyeol had decided it was pretentiousness, at the same time that he realised that Howon was devastatingly good-looking, and Sungyeol had always thought having people like Myungsoo and Sungjong as tennis buddies meant that his tastes had calibrated themselves accordingly to higher standards, but still, Howon had managed to sweep the rug out from under Sungyeol's feet.
Sungyeol had been glad he'd been seated, otherwise his gangly and wholly-unreliable-in-the-presence-of-attractive-male might have betrayed him, and as much as Sungyeol had decided then he definitely Does Not want to hook up with Howon, he didn't want to give the soccer team more to snap at them about him falling over.
Howon moved effortlessly across the field, Sungyeol had definitely noticed that. He and Woohyun combined made for a force to be reckoned with, and Sungyeol found himself fidgeting, his eyes only fixated on Howon when he usually zoned out of such things as watching anything that wasn't tennis. He was thankful that nobody else seemed to notice his dumb staring, unmoving save for the ways his eyes did as he tracked Howon's movement, all until the last ten minutes when they were having a mock penalty shoot out and Howon had just scored a goal, his half of the split team whooping, and Howon was going around delivering high fives when he looked up and oh.
Their eyes had met and Sungyeol had wanted to clock himself over the head, mainly because it had been ridiculously cheesy and he swears that it hadn't happened that way.
It last two seconds at most. Subjectively though, Sungyeol felt like somebody had shoved him underwater and his senses had become distorted all but his sight, trained on Howon, Howon's fixated on him, time passing in loud tick ticks without actually passing at all. It wasn't until Howon was nudged into a hug that he had been forced to look away from Sungyeol, and the latter had cleared his throat and leaned against the bleachers behind him, staring up at the deepening murk of the sky as the sunset, face and neck blotched with colour. He knew all too well that Howon was looking at him again when the ordeal was over and the tennis players made a convenient disembarkment as the soccer players spread off to dismantle the flags and the goals, Sungyeol shuffling too close behind Sungjong, who kept throwing him dirty looks over his shoulder when Sungyeol stepped on the back of his sneakers.
"Sorry," Sungyeol had apologised with an uncomfortably sunny smile for the fourth time, and Sungjong had groaned and done his signature eye roll, all of them about to step off the field and onto the path that led right back up to the sport centre when a voice stopped them.
"Hey,"
Shit. Sungyeol, bringing up the back, was the first to stop but the rest of his friends do too, prickles of tension straining the air over them. It was Howon, flanked by nobody, and Sungyeol had reminded himself pretentious, pretentious, and that Howon's lack of stalkers didn't mean anything; didn't make him friendlier than, perhaps, Woohyun.
"I'm Howon. You guys play tennis over there, right? I heard some stuff,"
No shit, Sherlock, Sungyeol wanted to sneer, albeit nervously. What gave it away, our racket bags?
"Sure," Sungyeol managed finally, after realising he'd been gaping like a dead fish. "You're Howon, soccer extraordinaire. We heard 'stuff' too,"
He could feel Sungjong's eyes burning holes into the back of his head, wondering why Sungyeol was even addressing Howon such, with a challenging lilt in his voice when they couldn't afford to start a fight. Even a small one - both sides had received warnings about it ever since the incident with Sungyeol's brother and Dongwoo from the soccer team. Both thankfully gone by now, moved away for college or whatever else, but still a painful reminder as ever of the consequences of getting physical, a reminder that there were bigger fish than a couple of twenty somethings and under and their sporting spats.
One of Howon's brows raised, curious, and Sungyeol had noted that even Howon's sweat smelled kind of great.
(It's then Sungyeol wondered whether he was going insane. Sweat? Great?)
"Cool," Howon had finally replied, giving a slow nod. "Well, yeah, I'm Howon. It's nice to meet you guys. I heard what happened last year, and as captain of the team for this season, I'm gonna assure you that I'll do my best to keep the team in order, so feel free to watch whenever you want,"
Pretentious, PREtentious, Sungyeol chanted to himself, ignoring the tiny but defiant squeaks of denial, denial! That followed. That fucking conscience of his.
"Thanks," Sungyeol's face had burned up quickly, and he was hoping Howon would atttribute that to the humidity rather than his own attractiveness. Was he blushing? Jesus. Two minutes, Sungyeol had thought, two minutes of being face-to-face and he was already neck-deep. He didn't know what to say next; he'd dearly wanted to retort with something smart, like we don't like watching you that much anyway, but clearly they did and he would just seem unncessarily antagonising in the face of Howon being... nice, yes, nice, that was it. It was making things incredibly hard for Sungyeol, who, although not the captain or a leader of any sort (they didn't have one), felt obligated to do something on behalf of his friends, seeing as how he was the oldest, even if only by a few months to the next guy down.
"Have a good day," was how Sungyeol finished, and that had almost been it. He'd turned away and the rest of them with, only getting a half step out before Howon called for him to "wait!" and Sungyeol cursed because it made his heart leap into his throat, arms jittering with goosebumps. It had been some time since he had had a crush, and everything he was feeling, all of this euphoria, was hitting him like a ten thousand tonne freight train. Or a bucket of water from the depths of the Arctic.
"I didn't get a name?" Howon's voice is husky and nice and Sungyeol wouldn't mind listening to it all day. He turned and barely looked at the others, acknowledging he was the one stepping up and taking charge, no complaints from the others. He saw Howon's nervously polite smile, saw those lips pull up a bit to reveal cute canines and teeth can't be fucking cute, it isn't fair! but Sungyeol can only concentrate on them for a while before he'd scrounged together a name.
Wait, his name. Right.
"Sungyeol," he smiled back, and Howon had nodded. His skin looked all nice and tan under the floodlights that were starting to dim now that they were all scheduled to be off-field, and they'd both looked at each other like that, with a load of nothingness, before Sungjong had cleared his throat and Sungyeol was brought back to the reality that he was meant to be haughtily skipping off on these damn soccer players.
***
The next time Sungyeol had seen Howon was at the library. A curse, Sungyeol decides in hindsight. The seal on his previously blossoming crush, tentative, but after this particular experience, Sungyeol had been slam dunked right into the pool of infatuation. A place, Sungyeol was sure, was already overflowing, because there had never been doubts Howon would only become more popular around people his age due to his credentials. Sungyeol couldn't say he was jealous so much as he was wary: he'd always been around the same people all his life, right up until now, elementary school, high school, all of it, and with Howon in the mix, Sungyeol didn't know what to make of things anymore, who to trust. Being one person, having Howon present in the neighbourhood made things unforeseeably hard.
(Or maybe that was because Sungyeol was doing classic overreaction and analysis of everything plainly because he liked Howon, but he would never have admitted that at the start.)
It was horrible. Howon wore glasses, squinted as he read even with them on, and Sungyeol could just tell the guy was probably legally blind without them. Sungyeol was about to question why he hadn't worn any while he had been playing soccer, only to remind himself that contact lenses had been around since forever. At first, Howon hadn't seen Sungyeol: the library was relatively small to begin with, and the study area even more so, and though Sungyeol had wanted dearly to hightail it out of the place, he didn't know where he'd go off to even if he had. The reason he came to the library was because he needed - duh - a quiet place to study, and his neighbours had given him a whole week's notice about the party they were going to have today, so Sungyeol had no excuses.He could always duck around to Sungjong's, but Sungjong still lived with his family, and the sole reason Sungyeol had moved out was to escape the noise of a family.
No other choice. Sungyeol was easily embarrassed and a little prideful, but he was a practical guy.
He had tried to plant himself as discreetly as possible at the farthest table from Howon's, and thankfully, the soccer captain hadn't noticed him at first, too immersed in his cute squinting. Not that Sungyeol was really watching, of course not, but dressed in a white shirt and jeans, Howon looked much less than the guy Sungyeol had met before, and more one of the usual geeks Sungyeol saw seated around such tables. It was more than a little endearing and Sungyeol just barely got away with pretending to be looking at his humanities textbook when Howon got up and stretched, eyes settling on Sungyeol after a few seconds.
"Hey," Sungyeol's heart had never thrown itself so loudly against his ribcage and it even kind of hurt, looking up with a wobbly smile when he saw Howon there, standing by his table, looking oddly small too. It was only now that Sungyeol noticed that Howon is shorter than him, stockier. Usually a boost for his masculine pride, it only served to make Sungyeol's insides gnaw at themselves some more because everything about Howon was shaping up to be somehow adorable.
"Howon," Sungyeol's reply came out curt and Howon had looked affronted for a split second.
"Studying, huh?" Howon was stating something obvious again, but then Sungyeol realised he really had to stop holding that against Howon when the guy was just making the same kind of conversation anybody else would. "I've got some supplementary exams to do in the next few weeks. I moved right when it was exam time, so they went ahead and failed me,"
Sungyeol didn't ask for details.
"Yeah," he'd replied, flicking a finger against this textbook. "I failed one, gotta retake it,"
The silence is awkward, but not entirely uncomfortable.
"Well," Howon broke the silence eventually. "Good luck, man. I know I need it,"
He walked away, and that was it. Sungyeol wished he wasn't so nice. It made the next time Sungyeol see him on the soccer field all that much more unbearably endearing, and this time, everyone noticed how many times he threw looks over at the soccer players.
"Please don't tell me you're going to join the enemy," Sungjong mock-pleaded, and Sungyeol made a joke about the B.O and how he can't ignore it. Obviously, nobody had believed him, because that was about a stupid a reason as if Sungyeol had said something like I sense a disturbance in the Force, but since they couldn't attribute it to much else other than Sungyeol being Sungyeol and having a malfunction or something, they couldn't comment more.
He knew that his attention hadn't gone unnoticed either, because he felt Howon looking at him too whenever it was his turn to serve, shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of pale tummy.
(Sungyeol had hated it, but he had felt proud. Thrilled, even.)
Howon's presence in the shower rooms made Sungyeol jump.
It was late. Ten PM to be exact, but Sungyeol always hung back on Fridays when the sports centre was open until late, mostly for people who wanted to play baseball and squash, and Sungyeol had volunteered to help out at the food stations for when things got hectic. He had begun to sweat even in the air conditioning, and had stuck to resolving the issue quickly in the showers, even if they were kind of mucky and gross, because he already felt mucky and gross anyway, and he didn't want to sit through the twenty minute bus ride home saturating his clothes with sweat.
He was walking out of the stall, watching the steam fog up the mirrors when he'd spotted Howon off to the side, by the lockers, watching him. It was clear Howon needed to take a shower, what with the fact he was half naked and towelled up to the waist, which explained his presence, but it didn't explain the way he was staring at Sungyeol, transfixed, exactly the way, Sungyeol supposed, he'd been looking Howon over.
"Shit," Sungyeol rested his hands on the side of the sink, playing it safe, trying to make the whole situation seem lighthearted. For a split second, he wondered if he was about to be ambushed by the soccer team or something, luring into some overtly gay act and then humiliating him because of it. That wouldn't be new, and Sungyeol would very much prefer that that didn't get to beginning to happen at all, so he tried to shrug this all off, throwing Howon a trademark gummy grin. "Didn't see you there. Gonna take a shower?"
His voice came out more high pitched and kind of whiney, but at least it hadn't wavered. Sungyeol was very much grateful for that.
"Y-yeah," Howon had actually stammered, and Sungyeol had delighted in the fact that Howon didn't even seen embarrassed by that fact. His fellow soccer players had always had so much bravado surrounding them that any such show of weakness should have been picked at and used to advantage, make Howon embarrassed, but Howon hadn't done anything wrong so far, and he was someone from Busan, all the way out here. Sungyeol had an unhealthy store of pride sometimes, but he wasn't unduly mean. "Sorry, I was thinking,"
"I get it," Sungyeol knew he sounded more assured than he felt, because the clamminess was returning to his skin and he felt unstable on his feet. He was underwater again, the tiles beneath him seeming extra slippery and he nodded back towards the showers. He felt nervous and the tension spoke for itself, but he didn't want to confront it at all, part of him still thinking that this was a big joke and there were going to be posters of him red-faced over ~soccer extraordinaire~ Howon if he didn't watch himself. "Well, showers are that way. Do it fast, the hot water's almost out. End of the day and all. Don't want you turning into an ice cube,"
Howon didn't move for a while. He was watching Sungyeol, observing, like he was trying to get a better handle on Sungyeol, what to make of him. Sungyeol didn't know then what he could be making of Howon, and it was all unsettling, unfair that he was alone in here when usually there were three or four other guys, normally invasive and kind of annoying, but now more welcome as an interruption. Sungyeol tried desperately to see the situation as kind of creepy if only it meant he could focus on something else other than the freckles here and there on Howon's torso, but it didn't work. This was the stuff of porn, and Sungyeol couldn't help but think about how nice and firm Howon would have felt under his touch, and how nice under that towel--
"Leave you to it then," Sungyeol grabbed at his clothes, wondering when around Howon his brain had decided to drop the Is and I'lls in his sentences, but that would be something he could pick at later. Brushing by Howon to get to his locker was bad enough, and Sungyeol shivered despite the rush of heat he'd felt radiating from Howon.
He jacked off three times that night, and laid idly in bed after it all wondering how he was going to survive another encounter like that without jumping Howon.
***
He doesn't.
He doesn't, because the next time he sees Howon, Howon is blonde with his hair up off his forehead, slicked back like one of those anime characters, and Sungyeol can see Howon had purposefully left an inch of his roots black. It's one of those beautiful, messy things, and Sungyeol wants to tug at it, crunch his fingers against the hair wax, but those things are inappropriate in a club with so many witnesses, he figures. It's impossible to avoid Howon, though, because they run in the same circles now that Howon's been well and truly integrated into society here, and as much as Sungyeol had aimed to avoid Howon for the sake of keeping his dick in his pants, Howon seems to have other ideas.
"I was hoping you would come," even in the darkness, Sungyeol can tell Howon's blushing a little. He isn't holding alcohol in his hand - Sungyeol knows all too well about the beginning of the supplementary exams beginning tomorrow city-wide and he doubts someone like Howon would drink at all the night before. That, and Sungyeol knows water when he sees it.
"Sure," Sungyeol's saying, because he doesn't know how to respond. Howon just smiles, meek almost, and he gets greeted by a few people who openly look Sungyeol over with barely disguised indifference. They all knew each other after all, and Sungyeol ignores them, indifferent too.
"You look great tonight, Hoaegi! My man!" is Woohyun's entrance, and Howon looks apologetically at Sungyeol when Sungyeol's taking that as his cue and veering off, hoping to find someone he feels remotely okay with schlepping all his feelings about Howon to.
He finds nobody, really, but he's more than comfortable crashing with Chanshik and his girlfriend, Suji, in the couches by the back, nursing his extra tall glass of sparkling iced tea made to look like something that contained alcohol, spruced up with a lemon and unknown candied stuff around the edges. He sees the telling flash of Howon's blonde now and again, and tries desperately not to think of the things that usually entailed on nights like these. Howon's probably going to go back home with someone, Sungyeol decides contritely, while he makes no efforts to do nothing about him being incredibly jealous of that. How could he? Howon plays soccer, he plays tennis. It isn't Romeo and Juliet, but Sungyeol's pretty sure somebody would be ready to beat him up for trying to make a move on someone several rungs above him, newcomer or not. It's all about the sexuality thing, and Sungyeol came out eons ago, but it hadn't equalled total acceptance, of course not. And as obvious as Howon had been, Sungyeol didn't want to give him the benefit of the doubt when he was so close with someone like Nam Woohyun. No, Sungyeol isn't close to being that stupid.
Still, the rest of the night progresses in a sort of downward spiral that Sungyeol attributes to him not peeling himself away from Chanshik's side, who nicely comments little about Sungyeol's sour demeanour. Tact-wise, he's top notch, but Sungyeol kind of wishes Chanshik could be a little interrogative sometimes so Sungyeol can rant without seeming pressed. He needs a third party view, and Chanshik is neither a tennis or a soccer player. He's not even into sports, only pretending to be because he works as a bartender.
It's nearing the end of the night (read as: 12 AM, the beginning of it for many) when Sungyeol gets bored enough to leave. He trashes the cup that's still half full of something weak and makes his way to the men's, with every intention to piss into the nearest anything and leave, when a shock of blonde makes him stop dead in his tracks.
Howon's done washing his hands when his eyes meet Sungyeol's form in the reflection of the mirrors. It's awkward as it always has been between them, but this time Sungyeol can't really escape the fact he's ogling rather openly at Howon and the stretch of waxed denim over toned legs, and Howon's letting him without objection.
"Hey," Howon finally says, and he sounds hollow for some reason Sungyeol doesn't care for. Sungyeol nods and he makes a gesture at the cubicles, indicating the obvious and Howon nods and backs off a little.
Sungyeol hopes he doesn't leave.
It's awkward pissing like this, but Sungyeol does and when he comes out again, he can't breathe because Howon's still there by the sink. He can't even wonder for a moment about how tense and surreal this is, how he might be throwing himself at someone right after he's peed for fuck's sake, and how nothing will ever be as un-cliche, and how cliche that is in itself because he's such a damn hipster about this somehow--
Howon waits for him to wash his hands and Sungyeol's making a show of drying them when he's grabbed. Howon's fucking grabbing him and his shoulder hitting the dryer is sure to leave him with a nasty bruise, but Howon doesn't apologise and Sungyeol doesn't demand one, not when Howon's lips are hot over his, beautiful stretch of neck exposed because he's got to lean up to meet Sungyeol's mouth. Sungyeol feels only a little stupid for having his eyes open when they're kissing, but he can't help it, Howon's so good looking and Sungyeol feels like it's a total waste not to be appreciating that, slender fingers skating over the neoprene jacket that Howon's wearing, all the rage these days, and Sungyeol almost laughs at him for it. He would have, and made jokes about it, if it isn't for the fact Howon's prodding at Sungyeol's lips with his tongue, urging them open, and Sungyeol happily obliges, both of them seemingly very content with sucking at each other's face for a good ten minutes, the pound of music beyond the bathroom door the only accompaniment to the wet noises they made, interspersed with a moan here and there.
Sungyeol feels like he's in high school again or something.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this," is the corny line Howon delivers, and Sungyeol mentally scratches another mark in the tally he'd been keeping in his head of how cheesy and predictable this has all been, as much as he hadn't wanted it to happen at all. Out loud though, he can muster nothing, which seems fine to Howon, who keeps kissing him, hands gripping Sungyeol's arms so tight he's pretty sure Howon's cut off the circulation from below his elbows, which might explain why Sungyeol shakes when he's sliding a hand beneath Howon's jacket.
They kiss like that for a while, Sungyeol settling more comfortably against the grimy bathroom wall, Howon happy to lean into him, neck craned like that, and Sungyeol can finally feel that he's not all hard edges and lean muscle. Howon's skin is surprisingly soft and his breath hitches when Sungyeol's touches almost make it to a nipple, held when Sungyeol's hand slips away again.
He shoots Sungyeol a questioning look.
"S-somewhere else," Sungyeol finally stutters when Howon's knee presses encouragingly between his legs, kneading at the obvious, for an answer. "I don't-- Not here," because at the back of his mind, he's still aware that Howon is Woohyun's friend, and anything even vaguely Woohyun-ish does not bode well with Sungyeol. He's searching for cameras, microphones, anything, and it's awful because Howon looks so sincere and considerate that Sungyeol almost feels bad for being so cautious.
"Okay," Howon's saying. He kisses the corner of Sungyeol's lips and peels himself away, leading Sungyeol by the hand.
Sungyeol feels like he's found Nirvana.
***
They fall into Sungyeol's bed in a mess of clothes and limbs trying to wind free of said clothes, lips unable to stay apart and hands unable to be not touching and feeling and remembering. It's not Sungyeol's first time being laid back so lovingly, back curving off the bed as Howon inches down with his mouth, leaving marks here and there Sungyeol wishes would go away just as quickly as they've been sucked there so Howon can revisit. He finds he doesn't have to wait long at all because Howon, Soccer Extraordinaire, likes Sungyeol's flat tummy, and is apparently not satisfied until he's left Sungyeol's skin a livid red, and Sungyeol, in return, is ruining Howon's perfectly sculpted hair into something that resembles more like tumbleweed. Not that either of them take notice, especially when bare cocks bump together and Sungyeol groans louder than he would have liked - Howon, taking full notice, repeats the grinds he's making until Sungyeol's whining and pushing at Howon's shoulders for him to stop, stop, because Sungyeol feels like he can come from that, and he doesn't want that nearly as much as he wants Howon inside of him.
It doesn't take long after that.
Neither of them are first timers, that helps. Both of them are more over-excited than nervous, which turns out to be worse, because it takes Howon a few goes at pushing in, mind too focused on fucking Sungyeol that he's doing brilliantly at not fucking him, but Sungyeol doesn't complain. He can feel how stretched he's going to be around the girth of Howon's cock, but he only welcomes him in when Howon finally gets it right and Sungyeol's groaning, sounding more pinched and desperate than ever. The escalation from nothing to this makes it all the more incredible, and Howon's using a condom, but Sungyeol can feel everything as if that thin layer of latex isn't there at all as Howon starts moving, those hips too blessedly fluid for Howon to just be a damn soccer player, but Sungyeol doesn't time to curse at Howon's fantastic set of genes.
"G-god," Sungyeol's uttering, and he knows he's useless, laying there letting Howon rock into him, body stretched out leisurely so he can feel the full force of each of Howon's thrusts, but Howon doesn't seem to mind that either, taking full charge. Yet eventually, he has to, and finds himself smacking his ass off Howon's groin, reciprocating, both of them moving in a bit of a frenzy, Sungyeol bracing himself up on his elbows to give him the balance he needs to be meeting Howon halfway. Up close like this, Sungyeol notes the smattering of acne scars by the left side of Howon's jaw and it's painful how imperfectly perfect Howon is as Sungyeol gets himself together to keep his legs from slipping, and he hikes them up a little higher this time, swearing harshly when it means it has Howon slamming against his prostate--
Fuck.
Fuck. It's the only thing Sungyeol's capable of saying, apparently, when Howon's memorising how exactly he's got to move into Sungyeol to give his present lover maximum pleasure, and tears spring to Sungyeol's eyes because - "fuck" - he's definitely going to come soon, hard, and he almost blacks out when he does, jaw slack and eyes locked with Howon's, vision blurry, and the rapid flurry of Howon moving into him only tells Sungyeol in the haze that Howon's coming too.
***
The next morning, Sungyeol wakes up full of regrets. He's panicked now even when he's got Howon looking like the library geek he'd seen days before curled up against his chest, snoring away, innocent almost save for the fact he's naked and he kind of reeks like Sungyeol's cum. He's panicked because he's less taken by lust, struck by logic and possibility and over-analysis now, and Sungyeol desperately fumbles for his phone in the discarded piles of clothes around his bed in case he's got a slew of nasty messages waiting for him, the confrontation of which he'd rather do in Howon's practical absence. Eventually, he finds it, but not without stirring Howon, he murmurs something adorable and incoherent when he wakes and Sungyeol curses inwardly.
"G'morning,"
"Morning," Sungyeol replies tersely, and his throat feels like it's swollen when he unlocks his phone and...
Nothing.
Still, Sungyeol doesn't want to get his hopes up.
Howon senses Sungyeol's high strung nerves and he rubs a hand down Sungyeol's back. It does little, because Howon's kind of the source of all this, but Howon seems to get that too.
"It's going to be fine," he's saying, but Sungyeol can't help but shoot Sungjong a text message, testing the waters. A reply doesn't come instantly, and in those moments, Sungyeol feels like he might cry. Howon looks uncertain, and he makes a move to get his clothes and leave, presumably, which makes Sungyeol feel even worse, especially when he can see how sombre he's made Howon, but he can't bring himself to stop Howon, Soccer Extraordinaire when Sungyeol's got no confirmation he'd slept with a Big Mistake. Hell, Sungyeol doesn't even know why he needs the validation when he's got all he needs right here, and Howon's put on his dumb waxed jeans by the time he apparently collects the strength to talk again.
"I'm sorry. You must regret this,"
Sungyeol says nothing. Sungjong still hasn't replied, and Sungyeol wonders idly if Sungjong could be angry with him, or too caught up with fending gossip wildfire off to reply.
That's a little self-centered, Sungyeol's conscience sneers.
Sungyeol ignores it.
"But I like you a lot. I really wanted you to know that,"
And that, Sungyeol can't ignore.
"You're friends with Woohyun," he voices aloud, and for once he realises just how stupid that sounds. It even makes Howon scoff, and right then does Howon look pretentious, but he's half-naked too, and that works in his favour in warranting Sungyeol overlooking that fact. "We can't--,"
"Screw Woohyun," Howon interjects, then adds: "and we can. Please, Sungyeol?"
Sungyeol's silence chips away and Howon's patience, and it aggravates Sungyeol's too. He's pretty sure he's just trying to blame his own incompetence with coming to terms with his feelings for someone like Howon on something else, shifting his wariness to Woohyun, when he knows perfectly well that Howon's too sincere right now to be acting.
Sungyeol knows he'd be insane to reject Howon for an unfounded risk. God, he's so shit at this.
"I really like you," Howon reiterates, and Sungyeol doesn't need to hear it a third time, doesn't want to, and Howon can't repeat himself either because Sungyeol's mouth is smothering his in needy kisses. Howon makes a delighted noise against Sungyeol's lips, hands clenching in light clawings over Sungyeol's back, eagerly returning everything Sungyeol gave him.
And when one of his hands fall to grip at Sungyeol's ass, Sungyeol decides with finality that any worries he has can wait until after he's bedded Howon a second time.
(Or maybe after the third.)