good thing that you're caught by me; hoya/sungjong; nc-17; 2.1k+
warning for crossdressing
when howon comes back to the dorm from an excruciatingly long day involving tv show recordings and dance practices where only two hours in he started feeling the ache in between his bones and vocal practices that wringed his voice dry, he honestly expects some kind of big dinner at the table and all the other members lowering their speaking voices to refrain from giving him a headache.
he stumbles through the doorway, not even bothering to reach out and scramble loudly for the light switch, and throws his shoes in the direction of the shoe rack. sunggyu is right behind him and leaves howon to himself and the quiet dorm as he quietly makes his way to his own room without anything but a soft nudge against his shoulder.
his stomach growls and howon feels like it’s loud enough for the people next door to hear, and he suddenly feels the exhaustion seep in and between his bones and all he wants right now is to sleep in his new bed that he’s already gotten used to and under the covers that smell like their new detergent but the touch that reminds him of home.
he thinks about checking up on sungjong-- to see if he’s actually asleep and not waiting for howon like he has been for the past week, to see if he’s washed the makeup off his face and risk the break outs that will most likely show up in the morning, to see if he’s wearing his dumb and tacky matching pajamas, to see if he kicked the blanket off the bed again, to see if he fell asleep in the middle of the book he’s reading right now and the light is still on and bathing his face in a warm gold glow.
but then he remembers how much of a light sleeper sungjong is, especially if it’s howon walking in (for some reason-- sungjong says it’s because howon breathes loudly but howon believes he breathes very much normally) and he resists and goes to his own room, not even bothering to stay quiet or not turn the lights on because dongwoo is dongwoo and is most likely dead to the world.
except when he turns the light on and he’s expecting to see dongwoo in his bed instead of his own because apparently it doesn’t matter who’s bed is whose, he sees sungjong on his bed.
sungjong is splayed out on his bed, like some sort of cover on a dirty magazine, with what he’s wearing-- a pair of lavender panties that seemed to be completely made out of light lace trimmed around the edges. there’s a little bow in the center of the band and the panties look a little tighter around the boy’s waist where the little ruffles around the edges are sticking out against the pretty glowing pallor of his thighs and are those fucking stockings.
sungjong is half-asleep when he sits up and starts rubbing at his eyes with his fists and his hair is standing up and he looks so undeniably cute and young that he almost ignores the fact the maknae of his band is wearing lingerie and is casually lounging on his bed.
“you’re back late,” he mumbles, moving around, and howon’s eyes are trained on the way he moves his hips and legs and knees-- slowly and seemingly gracefully and not at all like he had just been interrupted from sleeping.
“yeah,” howon says intelligently, and looks away a little too late because sungjong has already noticed and it’s like he completely forgot he’s wearing lingerie in the first place.
“it looks good right?” he turns over to lay on his stomach and it somehow looks better because, well, sungjong’s ass, along with the sleek dip of his back and the smooth skin of the top of his thighs and then the beginning of the purple stockings so pale they’re almost completely white and translucent. “i ordered them a long time ago and they finally got here when you were at practice.”
he looks at howon from over his shoulder-- eyes hooded and raw bottom lip trapped between his teeth, and the weariness that seemed to weigh howon’s entire body down is suddenly swept away, only to be replaced by heat and nothing but.
and howon suddenly remembers sungjong whining about how terrible he felt and wanting to stay at home with some members while the others went out to practice. he remembers sungjong complaining so much that the other members complained along with him so their manager would relent because it wasn’t like he was going to stop. and howon had believed it-- even bumping shoulders with him and rubbing his palm up and down his arm and letting him sleep in his bed for the entire day.
and sungjong had pouted with his chapped lips and nodded with his messy bed head and dark circles under his drowsy eyes and dragged himself around with a blanket around his shoulders and trailing on the floor and howon had never not wanted to go practice in his entire life.
except now he knows that sungjong had very much not in fact been sick at the dorms and sleeping in howon’s bed-- instead he had waited the entire day for a package of lingerie and most likely nested in the doorway so he could retrieve it himself.
howon remembered when sungjong had brought the whole thing up-- one night when they had the day off and they were both sweaty and sticky and in bed and howon was one second away from sleep and he heard sungjong ask him something about cute underwear and howon must have muttered something because, well, this.
“is it okay?” and sungjong rolls back over and his entire facial expression changes and the smirk that had been forming on his chapped lips is dropped and he’s scrabbling for the spare blanket pushed against the wall. “you’re not mad or anything, are you?”
howon hates that look on his face-- that look of sungjong throwing up walls again and putting himself far away where he can’t get hurt. he can count on one hand how many times that’s happened and every time he recalls it, he wants nothing more than to have sungjong trust him again.
“no, no, of course i like it,” and howon stumbles through his words and in his head because sungjong still looks as if he isn’t believing a single word that’s coming out of his mouth. “and it’s purple.”
and sungjong laughs-- that one laugh that comes up during the strangest of moments and it’s loud and sudden like a cough and it makes his shoulders shake and he ducks his head and covers his face with one hand because he doesn’t think he’s attractive when he laughs like that except howon thinks that there’s nothing more gorgeous.
“so you’re okay with it?” sungjong’s cheeks are flushed, and there’s that glint in his eye and he very discreetly pushes the blankets farther away.
“i’m okay with it.” howon nods and throws his bag somewhere and somehow finds himself standing right next to the boy-- the boy who has to crane his neck so far back that it pops and the wide expanse of delicate skin that is so easy to bruise and mark is on display.
“so how was your day?” sungjong asks, hands coming up to gather the hair at the nape of howon’s neck between his fingers and splay across the back of his neck and down the slope of his back and to his waist and coming to curl around his hip-- leaving a warm trail wherever he touched.
and howon falls in sungjong’s lap and pushes him back down by his shoulders and hovers over him as he finally kisses him until he’s breathless and sungjong is whining into his mouth already.
“you look really hot,” howon mutters against sungjong’s mouth, which pulls into a full on grin, as his hands leave from where he was grabbing at the maknae’s jaw and roams down his neck and across his collarbones and chest, suddenly tweaking his nipples and making him squeak and his hips come off the bed, and finally grabbing at his hips-- palms covering his sides and feeling the lacy material.
sungjong’s hard, he’s been hard, if the damp spot near his thigh says anything, but now his cock is sticking out of the panties and resting heavily against his stomach. the head’s leaking and flushed bright red, and howon can’t help but think that the waistband is probably going to chafe him, but then he remembers that sungjong likes things like that. he licks his lips and his grip around the boy’s hips tighten.
“well, i had a really great lunch and a pretty great day, thanks for asking,” sungjong responds and howon really really hates his snarky mouth.
howon licks sungjong’s cock, lightly and not too hard and entirely a tease, from bottom to top right through the material, and sungjong chokes out a gasp, hands already coming out to grab at the purple sheets.
“now, did you wear all of this for me to talk about my day?” howon rests his chin on his hipbone, blinking innocently up at sungjong who already seems to be flushed and sensitive. he thinks about what he could’ve been doing while alone in this room, about whether he would’ve put on the panties and stockings right when he tore apart that packaging, about whether he would’ve buried his face in howon’s pillow and try to resist touching himself, about whether he would’ve never left his bed except to eat, and when he did he wouldn’t even bother taking the garments off and would just put on jeans over them and he would walk around the dorm in fucking lacy underwear and stockings for girls and no one would notice.
“it depends on if your day was that--” he breaks his sentence off with a tiny little gasp when howon bites at his hip bone that sticks out and has porcelain skin stretched over it. “interesting.” he exhales and his hands abandon the wrinkled sheets and come up to run through howon’s hair that’s still rough to the touch because of the product he’s piled on. he pulls when howon continues biting at and around the little knob, leaving bright red marks that slowly fade-- because sungjong wants bruises (oh does he want bruises-- dark and bright and messy bruises smattered all over his clear skin because sungjong craves the dull ache when he accidentally puts pressure on it in public and no one would know that he had the best fuck of his life the night before), but he wants bruises from howon’s cute little hands that would squeeze and squeeze at his hips while he fucks sungjong hard and fast and his own hipbones would leave bruises on his ass.
howon reaches the lace trimming around the edges of the panties where the head of sungjong’s cock is sticking out with a bead of precum that’s already starting to form through the slit and it makes howon’s mouth water. the smell of sex is even stronger there and it makes howon’s mind jump to the thought of sungjong letting himself get carried away, working himself off, panties stripped off and hanging off his ankle, his hand around his cock the exact way howon always does-- gripping harder than sungjong normally would, twisting his fist around his head, so slow that always makes sungjong beg when he can’t take it anymore and rough that it makes him keen and his hips raise off the mattress and back arching, lovely and perfect.
he licks from the base of sungjong’s cock all the way up to his head, harder this time, the silky fabric smooth against his tongue, flicking his tongue against the slit to gather up the precum leaking steadily and, just as it always does, it makes sungjong mewl and twist his hands into howon’s hair so hard it almost hurts, but it does nothing but make him throb in his own tight jeans.
“hurry up.” sungjong demands and it makes howon grin, cheekily, and he looks up, resting his face against his thigh, hand running up and down his legs to feel the scratchy material, to see the boy’s chest rising up and down so dramatically it looks like he’s been dancing for hours and his face is flushed and he’s smiling that smile that usually means he’s impatient and horny and just wants to be fucked.
“alright, alright.” howon continues grinning and sungjong untangles his fingers from the nest of his hair and smacks him upside the head as he frantically hooks his fingers and slides his panties off. he keeps the stockings on.
when howon comes back to the dorm from an excruciatingly long day involving tv show recordings and dance practices where only two hours in he started feeling the ache in between his bones and vocal practices that wringed his voice dry, he honestly expects some kind of big dinner at the table and all the other members lowering their speaking voices to refrain from giving him a headache.
he stumbles through the doorway, not even bothering to reach out and scramble loudly for the light switch, and throws his shoes in the direction of the shoe rack. sunggyu is right behind him and leaves howon to himself and the quiet dorm as he quietly makes his way to his own room without anything but a soft nudge against his shoulder.
his stomach growls and howon feels like it’s loud enough for the people next door to hear, and he suddenly feels the exhaustion seep in and between his bones and all he wants right now is to sleep in his new bed that he’s already gotten used to and under the covers that smell like their new detergent but the touch that reminds him of home.
he thinks about checking up on sungjong-- to see if he’s actually asleep and not waiting for howon like he has been for the past week, to see if he’s washed the makeup off his face and risk the break outs that will most likely show up in the morning, to see if he’s wearing his dumb and tacky matching pajamas, to see if he kicked the blanket off the bed again, to see if he fell asleep in the middle of the book he’s reading right now and the light is still on and bathing his face in a warm gold glow.
but then he remembers how much of a light sleeper sungjong is, especially if it’s howon walking in (for some reason-- sungjong says it’s because howon breathes loudly but howon believes he breathes very much normally) and he resists and goes to his own room, not even bothering to stay quiet or not turn the lights on because dongwoo is dongwoo and is most likely dead to the world.
except when he turns the light on and he’s expecting to see dongwoo in his bed instead of his own because apparently it doesn’t matter who’s bed is whose, he sees sungjong on his bed.
sungjong is splayed out on his bed, like some sort of cover on a dirty magazine, with what he’s wearing-- a pair of lavender panties that seemed to be completely made out of light lace trimmed around the edges. there’s a little bow in the center of the band and the panties look a little tighter around the boy’s waist where the little ruffles around the edges are sticking out against the pretty glowing pallor of his thighs and are those fucking stockings.
sungjong is half-asleep when he sits up and starts rubbing at his eyes with his fists and his hair is standing up and he looks so undeniably cute and young that he almost ignores the fact the maknae of his band is wearing lingerie and is casually lounging on his bed.
“you’re back late,” he mumbles, moving around, and howon’s eyes are trained on the way he moves his hips and legs and knees-- slowly and seemingly gracefully and not at all like he had just been interrupted from sleeping.
“yeah,” howon says intelligently, and looks away a little too late because sungjong has already noticed and it’s like he completely forgot he’s wearing lingerie in the first place.
“it looks good right?” he turns over to lay on his stomach and it somehow looks better because, well, sungjong’s ass, along with the sleek dip of his back and the smooth skin of the top of his thighs and then the beginning of the purple stockings so pale they’re almost completely white and translucent. “i ordered them a long time ago and they finally got here when you were at practice.”
he looks at howon from over his shoulder-- eyes hooded and raw bottom lip trapped between his teeth, and the weariness that seemed to weigh howon’s entire body down is suddenly swept away, only to be replaced by heat and nothing but.
and howon suddenly remembers sungjong whining about how terrible he felt and wanting to stay at home with some members while the others went out to practice. he remembers sungjong complaining so much that the other members complained along with him so their manager would relent because it wasn’t like he was going to stop. and howon had believed it-- even bumping shoulders with him and rubbing his palm up and down his arm and letting him sleep in his bed for the entire day.
and sungjong had pouted with his chapped lips and nodded with his messy bed head and dark circles under his drowsy eyes and dragged himself around with a blanket around his shoulders and trailing on the floor and howon had never not wanted to go practice in his entire life.
except now he knows that sungjong had very much not in fact been sick at the dorms and sleeping in howon’s bed-- instead he had waited the entire day for a package of lingerie and most likely nested in the doorway so he could retrieve it himself.
howon remembered when sungjong had brought the whole thing up-- one night when they had the day off and they were both sweaty and sticky and in bed and howon was one second away from sleep and he heard sungjong ask him something about cute underwear and howon must have muttered something because, well, this.
“is it okay?” and sungjong rolls back over and his entire facial expression changes and the smirk that had been forming on his chapped lips is dropped and he’s scrabbling for the spare blanket pushed against the wall. “you’re not mad or anything, are you?”
howon hates that look on his face-- that look of sungjong throwing up walls again and putting himself far away where he can’t get hurt. he can count on one hand how many times that’s happened and every time he recalls it, he wants nothing more than to have sungjong trust him again.
“no, no, of course i like it,” and howon stumbles through his words and in his head because sungjong still looks as if he isn’t believing a single word that’s coming out of his mouth. “and it’s purple.”
and sungjong laughs-- that one laugh that comes up during the strangest of moments and it’s loud and sudden like a cough and it makes his shoulders shake and he ducks his head and covers his face with one hand because he doesn’t think he’s attractive when he laughs like that except howon thinks that there’s nothing more gorgeous.
“so you’re okay with it?” sungjong’s cheeks are flushed, and there’s that glint in his eye and he very discreetly pushes the blankets farther away.
“i’m okay with it.” howon nods and throws his bag somewhere and somehow finds himself standing right next to the boy-- the boy who has to crane his neck so far back that it pops and the wide expanse of delicate skin that is so easy to bruise and mark is on display.
“so how was your day?” sungjong asks, hands coming up to gather the hair at the nape of howon’s neck between his fingers and splay across the back of his neck and down the slope of his back and to his waist and coming to curl around his hip-- leaving a warm trail wherever he touched.
and howon falls in sungjong’s lap and pushes him back down by his shoulders and hovers over him as he finally kisses him until he’s breathless and sungjong is whining into his mouth already.
“you look really hot,” howon mutters against sungjong’s mouth, which pulls into a full on grin, as his hands leave from where he was grabbing at the maknae’s jaw and roams down his neck and across his collarbones and chest, suddenly tweaking his nipples and making him squeak and his hips come off the bed, and finally grabbing at his hips-- palms covering his sides and feeling the lacy material.
sungjong’s hard, he’s been hard, if the damp spot near his thigh says anything, but now his cock is sticking out of the panties and resting heavily against his stomach. the head’s leaking and flushed bright red, and howon can’t help but think that the waistband is probably going to chafe him, but then he remembers that sungjong likes things like that. he licks his lips and his grip around the boy’s hips tighten.
“well, i had a really great lunch and a pretty great day, thanks for asking,” sungjong responds and howon really really hates his snarky mouth.
howon licks sungjong’s cock, lightly and not too hard and entirely a tease, from bottom to top right through the material, and sungjong chokes out a gasp, hands already coming out to grab at the purple sheets.
“now, did you wear all of this for me to talk about my day?” howon rests his chin on his hipbone, blinking innocently up at sungjong who already seems to be flushed and sensitive. he thinks about what he could’ve been doing while alone in this room, about whether he would’ve put on the panties and stockings right when he tore apart that packaging, about whether he would’ve buried his face in howon’s pillow and try to resist touching himself, about whether he would’ve never left his bed except to eat, and when he did he wouldn’t even bother taking the garments off and would just put on jeans over them and he would walk around the dorm in fucking lacy underwear and stockings for girls and no one would notice.
“it depends on if your day was that--” he breaks his sentence off with a tiny little gasp when howon bites at his hip bone that sticks out and has porcelain skin stretched over it. “interesting.” he exhales and his hands abandon the wrinkled sheets and come up to run through howon’s hair that’s still rough to the touch because of the product he’s piled on. he pulls when howon continues biting at and around the little knob, leaving bright red marks that slowly fade-- because sungjong wants bruises (oh does he want bruises-- dark and bright and messy bruises smattered all over his clear skin because sungjong craves the dull ache when he accidentally puts pressure on it in public and no one would know that he had the best fuck of his life the night before), but he wants bruises from howon’s cute little hands that would squeeze and squeeze at his hips while he fucks sungjong hard and fast and his own hipbones would leave bruises on his ass.
howon reaches the lace trimming around the edges of the panties where the head of sungjong’s cock is sticking out with a bead of precum that’s already starting to form through the slit and it makes howon’s mouth water. the smell of sex is even stronger there and it makes howon’s mind jump to the thought of sungjong letting himself get carried away, working himself off, panties stripped off and hanging off his ankle, his hand around his cock the exact way howon always does-- gripping harder than sungjong normally would, twisting his fist around his head, so slow that always makes sungjong beg when he can’t take it anymore and rough that it makes him keen and his hips raise off the mattress and back arching, lovely and perfect.
he licks from the base of sungjong’s cock all the way up to his head, harder this time, the silky fabric smooth against his tongue, flicking his tongue against the slit to gather up the precum leaking steadily and, just as it always does, it makes sungjong mewl and twist his hands into howon’s hair so hard it almost hurts, but it does nothing but make him throb in his own tight jeans.
“hurry up.” sungjong demands and it makes howon grin, cheekily, and he looks up, resting his face against his thigh, hand running up and down his legs to feel the scratchy material, to see the boy’s chest rising up and down so dramatically it looks like he’s been dancing for hours and his face is flushed and he’s smiling that smile that usually means he’s impatient and horny and just wants to be fucked.
“alright, alright.” howon continues grinning and sungjong untangles his fingers from the nest of his hair and smacks him upside the head as he frantically hooks his fingers and slides his panties off. he keeps the stockings on.