Distance
When Ryeowook stepped into the bedroom he shared with Hankyung, fresh from his shower, it was to see Hankyung on his - Ryeowook’s - cell phone, talking animatedly and laughing to whoever it was on the other line.
“… and then Donghae just went flying at Henry, right, and Henry was just staring in shock, and the next thing you know is, Donghae steps on this pillow that Kyuhyun left lying on the floor, slips, and falls flat on his face,” Hankyung was describing an incident that happened earlier in the day, his Korean heavily accented as always, and Ryeowook couldn’t help but smile as he walked over to his bed and flopped down on it, wincing slightly as he felt the tightness in his tired muscles.
Hankyung saw him then, and spoke quickly into the phone, “Oh wait, Ryeowook’s back, I’ll pass the phone back to him now.” He paused as the other speaker said something in reply, and then said, “Thanks, take care of yourself too.”
He walked over to Ryeowook and handed the phone to him with a smile. “I’ll be in Siwon’s room, okay? We’ll be going over the schedule for tomorrow, so I’ll probably be a while.”
Ryeowook nodded. “Thanks, hyung.” He watched as Hankyung left the room, and only when the door was closed did he finally lift his phone to his ear.
“Jongwoon-hyung?” he said.
“Hey,” came the familiar husky voice, and Ryeowook smiled, the reaction almost automatic every time he heard that voice. “I called your phone and Hankyung-hyung picked up, he told me you were showering.”
“I was,” Ryeowook agreed.
“Where’s he now?”
“With Siwon-hyung, they have stuff to discuss for tomorrow. What did you do today?”
“Mmm. Nothing much. Went to the gym early in the morning with Jungsu-hyung, had a recording for that new variety gameshow I told you about, but we were done by 3 in the afternoon. I’ve been sleeping practically all day.”
“Lucky you,” Ryeowook groaned. “We’ve been out all day. I had to get up at 5, and then I cooked breakfast because no one wanted to eat Beijing fried rice again. And when we went for that interview in the morning, it was chaotic. Our translator got lost and turned up almost an hour late, and we were fumbling along by ourselves, and then - “
“Wook-ah,” Yesung interrupted.
“Hmmm?”
“What are you wearing now?”
“Hyung!”
“Come on Ryeowook, I need a visual.”
“What do you even mean, what visual! Anyway, I was telling you about my day, right? We were at that interview, and the host asked - “
“Ryeowook, I’ve waited all damned day for you,” Yesung interrupted again, only this time his voice was practically an entire octave lower, deep and husky and rough, and Ryeowook involuntarily shivered. Damn that man and his voice, he thought to himself exasperatedly.
“All right,” he snapped, harsher than he actually felt. “Shorts. Black. And that t-shirt you gave to me a couple of years back, the one I always sleep in. Very normal.”
“Why aren’t you in your silk pyjamas?”
“What are you talking about, it’s midnight, I’ve been up since 5, I’m tired from activities all day, and I still have to get up early tomorrow. Of course I’m not going to be in the mood for silk pyjamas, luxurious as they are.”
“Well. Sounds like you really are tired. All right then, guess I’ll hang up, and well… I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Yesung said, but his voice - Ryeowook squeezed his eyes shut - his voice was even lower than before, drilling into Ryeowook’s consciousness like a pounding hammer. A very soothing, very sexy hammer, if that was even possible.
“Ryeowook?” Yesung said again, after Ryeowook didn’t reply, and Ryeowook knew - just knew - the man was deliberately deepening his voice, because fuck, he knew what it did to him. Every single time.
He sighed. “What are you wearing, Jongwoon-hyung?” he asked in return, almost without meaning to, and then mentally cursed himself for always falling into Yesung’s trap. If he didn’t love him so much, he’d have put poison in his food by now.
Yesung laughed, a low husky chuckle, and Ryeowook felt his heart jump in his chest. “Guess.”
“That shirt of yours with the ugly picture of Ddangkoma printed on it that I told you to get rid of?”
“No, of course not.”
“You stole Sungmin’s favourite pink tee?” Ryeowook asked, starting to get amused.
“… No.”
“Then what are you wearing?”
Yesung dropped his voice low, so soft that Ryeowook had to strain to hear it. “Actually, Wook-ah… it’s nothing.”
“Shit,” Ryeowook muttered, as the image of a naked Yesung, all flawless tanned skin and softly defined muscles lying invitingly on their bed back home, flashed across his mind, and he felt himself beginning to harden.
“Do you know what I’m doing now?” Yesung asked.
“What?”
“I’m thinking of you, Ryeowook, you and those gorgeous lips of yours sucking me off,” he said in reply, his voice a low sensual whisper, sending a shiver down Ryeowook’s spine.
"Hyung, don't..." Ryeowook began, but Yesung continued relentlessly.
“And you’re so good at it too, your mouth and your tongue, you humming all around me, god Ryeowook, I wish I had you right here with me, I really need you now.”
Almost unconsciously Ryeowook reached his own hand into his shorts and began stroking himself, feeling the first drops of precome ooze out and smoothen the roughness of his fingers. “Hyung…” he whispered, closing his eyes and imagining, in his turn, Yesung on his knees in front of him, soft full lips wrapped around his cock, the warm wetness of his mouth.
“I’m thinking of you begging me to fuck you faster, harder, you panting my name as I fuck you senseless. I can just imagine, Ryeowook, I can almost feel you around me, I - oh, shit, Ryeowook.” The last word was drawn-out and breathy, and Ryeowook shuddered, thinking of Yesung and what he must be doing to himself, as he ran his thumb over the head of his arousal, slick with precome, and he couldn’t suppress a moan.
“I love it when you’re moaning my name as I pound into you, and you’re so tight, so good, Ryeowook,” Yesung groaned, his voice hoarse, and Ryeowook groaned in answer, his own hand moving up and down faster, slightly impeded by his shorts, and with a slight growl of frustration he took his hand out long enough to pull them down, kicking them off him, before his hand went back to his cock with almost indecent haste, pumping along to the rhythm of Yesung’s harsh breaths on the line.
“Fuck, I wish you were here with me, right now, I would lift you up and push you against the nearest wall and fuck you into it, until you’re screaming yourself hoarse, screaming my name,” Yesung said, and Ryeowook let out a little moan at the remembered images and sensations of all the times they’d done exactly that, Yesung’s husky voice sending surges of desire through him that seemed to electrify his entire body.
“I - I wish I was with you too,” he said breathlessly, stroking himself faster, imagining Yesung touching him, Yesung’s mouth on his neck, his body, his hands on him, inside of him, Yesung growling his name and whispering I love yous into his ear as he climaxed inside of Ryeowook.
“Wook, I really want you so badly, fuck, why do you have to be so far,” Yesung gasped over the line, and abruptly there were some scuffling sounds, as if Yesung was moving around, but Ryeowook hardly took any notice, caught up in his own vivid thoughts, until Yesung suddenly said to him, “Stop, stop, Ryeowook.”
Ryeowook let out a little whine of frustration, but his hand stilled on himself nevertheless. “What is it!”
“Go to your computer, now, quick.”
“Jongwoon - “
“Just do it!”
Ryeowook hissed in frustration. “This better be good,” he warned, as he sat up and pulled the small table holding his laptop to the edge of the bed. Sitting cross-legged, he switched it on, and almost the moment it booted up a window automatically appeared on his screen.
“Hi there,” Yesung said, smiling at him in the window. Webcam, Ryeowook thought, and his mind suddenly felt faint with the possibilities. He maximized the window quickly, his breath hitching as he saw Yesung almost exactly as he’d imagined, the beautiful lines of his naked body almost hypnotic to Ryeowook.
“God, hyung, you and your ideas,” he whispered, and Yesung smiled, his eyes hooded and - Ryeowook thought he really might faint - lined with eyeliner.
“I miss you, Wook-ah,” he said, voice deep and sensual, and Ryeowook swallowed as he saw Yesung’s erect cock, and damn but he wanted it inside him.
“I miss you too, hyung,” he whimpered, his hand already wrapping around his hardness again and moving. “Oh god, hyung, I want you now, so bad…”
“Do you want me inside you, Ryeowook? Slamming into you hard and fast and rough, just the way you like it?” Yesung said softly, his eyes fixed on Ryeowook’s hand fisting himself, and Ryeowook gasped at the memory.
“Fuck, yes,” he said breathlessly, before he brought up his free hand to his mouth and began sucking at his fingers, coating them thickly in his saliva, and Yesung groaned at the sight.
“Ryeowook, shit, you drive me insane,” Yesung said, voice raspy with desire, and Ryeowook shook at the naked lust in Yesung’s eyes and voice as he removed his fingers from his mouth and brought them down between his legs, plunging one wet finger inside himself as Yesung swore softly, eyes never leaving Ryeowook’s hands.
Ryeowook slid a second finger inside himself, biting down on his lower lip, waiting for himself to adjust before slowly starting to move them in and out, the friction slow and agonizing but oh, so good, and he gave a little moan.
“Hyung, I want you so much, I miss you, hyung…” Ryeowook panted, and Yesung clenched his fist tighter around himself at the incredibly erotic sight of Ryeowook, his Ryeowook, unashamedly fingering himself and pleading for him.
“How much do you want me, Ryeowook? Show me,” Yesung’s voice came through the speakers in a rough velvety whisper, and Ryeowook hesitated just a moment before spreading his legs wider, his fingers working feverishly inside himself, scissoring and moving and Yesung’s eyes darkened perceptibly as he watched.
“I wish… I wish you were here, hyung, I wish this was you,” Ryeowook gasped, throwing his head back, even as he moved his fingers faster, feeling his walls clamping around them and wishing so hard it was Yesung’s own hard, pulsating length inside him instead of this miserable substitute.
“I’m here, Wook-ah,” Yesung said, his voice hoarse, and Ryeowook looked blearily at the screen to watch Yesung pumping himself, timing his strokes to the movement of Ryeowook’s fingers.
“Not - not the same, hyung, not myself, you, I want you…” Ryeowook gasped, and then shuddered as he curled his fingers inside himself and brushed against his prostate.
“I want you too, Ryeowook, so much…” Yesung breathed, his voice getting even huskier and sounding like roughened silk, and Ryeowook groaned remembering the times he was in that mouth and that voice was humming and vibrating around his hardness.
“Hyung, please, please, hyung, I want you here, I want you fucking me, I need you…” he begged, his hips grinding down uncontrollably and whimpering as his fingers hit his prostate over and over.
“Shhh, Wook-ah, I’m right here,” Yesung said softly, then left out a soft gasp and when Ryeowook looked over he saw Yesung had slipped two fingers into himself while still pumping his cock and Ryeowook felt his own arousal literally jump at the sight.
“Hyung… no, you’re torturing me, please, I need you so much, I miss you,” Ryeowook mewled, and the Yesung in his screen looked up and bent closer, so Ryeowook could see his lined eyes and those soft lips and his heavy breathing.
“Are you close?” he asked, and Ryeowook nodded in reply, his breath coming in fast little gasps, his hands and fingers moving frantically with the ache to fill himself with Yesung.
“Hyung…” Ryeowook whimpered, pushing his fingers hard against the knot of nerves inside himself, feeling his peak approaching. “Hyung, please, please…”
“Come, Ryeowook,” Yesung ordered, his voice low, and Ryeowook clenched around his own fingers at the gravelly sound of his voice as the pleasure seemed to concentrate in a single point for an eternal agonizing moment, and then Ryeowook felt himself explode, his vision a whirl of colours, and he only dimly heard himself cry out, “Jongwoon!”
Yesung followed almost immediately after, his voice harsh and rough as he screamed “Ryeowook, fuck, Ryeowook!”, and Ryeowook opened his eyes just in time to see Yesung climax into his hand, white fluid streaking his fingers as he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut, lips parted and chest heaving, slick with perspiration.
It was almost a minute before Ryeowook finally spoke first. “Hyung… you and your bright ideas.”
Yesung laughed tiredly, looking fondly at him. “It was good, wasn’t it?”
“Very,” he replied, pulling wet tissues from his bedside drawer and cleaning himself, watching as Yesung did the same.
“It’d be a lot better if I was there, or you were here, though.”
“I know,” Ryeowook paused. “I do miss you, hyung.”
“I do too,” Yesung said, his eyes filled with tenderness and loneliness, and Ryeowook wanted so much to be with him, to just hold him, hug him, kiss him.
“It’s just one more month, I’ll be back then,” Ryeowook promised.
“I wish time would pass faster,” Yesung said softly. “I just want to hold you.”
Ryeowook smiled at their similar thoughts. “We have the webcam, in the meantime,” he said teasingly, and Yesung laughed, the sound full and rich and distinctly Yesung, and Ryeowook couldn’t help but join in.
“You’d better go to sleep, you have an early day,” Yesung said at last, though the longing in his face clearly indicated that he would like nothing better than to sit in front of his webcam all night and stare at Ryeowook. As he looked at Yesung, Ryeowook was hit by a sudden flash of inspiration.
“I will but hyung, leave your computer on, all right?”
“Why?”
Ryeowook smiled before lying back on the bed, pulling the table holding his laptop right next to his head. He tilted the screen downwards, making sure the webcam captured his face, and then looked up at Yesung. “So we can watch each other sleep.”
Yesung paused for a while at that, a bright smile slowly spreading over his face, before he arranged himself carefully on his bed and tilted his own laptop screen as Ryeowook had done. “I love you, Ryeowook,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” Ryeowook said softly, both of them lying on their sides, staring into their computers at each other, and suddenly the distance between them didn’t feel quite so large anymore.
When Hankyung returned to the room almost an hour later, Ryeowook was already asleep, his breathing slow and even, but Hankyung was surprised to see that his laptop had been pulled right next to him, the light from the screen spilling on to his face and indicating that it had been left on.
“He must have been so tired he forgot to switch it off properly,” Hankyung muttered to himself, striding over to the laptop to switch it off, but as he bent over it he paused. There, on the screen, clearly on a webcam feed, was Yesung’s face, as soundly asleep as Ryeowook was.
Hankyung smiled in understanding, looking from Ryeowook’s peaceful face to Yesung’s equally serene one, and walked to his own bed at the other side of the room, leaving the laptop on.