faye valentine (yoonsoo) wrote,
faye valentine
yoonsoo

★ sweet like, pt. 1/2

nc-17 + kikwang/dongwoon + 9,000 words
warnings: daddy kink, prostitution.
i feel you, pretty baby, feel me, turn it up hot, lovin' you is free.
at the risk of becoming 'that person who writes sugar daddy aus' here's this. and, as a note: please refer to me as 'that person who writes sugar daddy aus' because it is who i am.







sweet like
a-side: dongwoon.
This is, Dongwoon thinks as he exhales a shuddering breath, the fifth time they've fucked.

It's only the second time he's had Kikwang begging for it. The first three times he was—standoffish, almost. Not quite disinterested, but something close to playing hard to get. Like he needed to be impressed before he'd do anything Dongwoon might have expected of him in the first place.

After all—Dongwoon swallows nothing, swallows air, desperate pants, words he wants to say—there are certain things someone might expect when they're dropping three hundred dollars for an hour in a hotel room.

But he didn't really know what to expect. He'd said it wasn't his first time doing this, but it was and that was probably obvious. Fumbling and nervous, that's what he'd been the first time. So enamored and turned on watching Kikwang walk around the hotel room with his shirt off. He'd embarrassed himself about a million times and hadn't come back for a month.

(He also hadn't come for a month without thinking about Kikwang's ass, but that's beside the point.)

So, maybe it helped that there weren't any expectations.

Because Kikwang has been, since the first time, a complete tease. He never gets right to things. Twice now he's drawn out foreplay so long that Dongwoon's ended up paying more than he'd planned to. Not that he's regretted it either time, not that he doesn't have enough money for that not to matter.

It's just—there's this part of Dongwoon that knows he should mind. This part of him that—

"Hey." Kikwang's voice is breathy and on the edge of dangerous. "Are you gonna—?"

Dongwoon pushes into him, hands on Kikwang's hips, and shuts him up.

He's learned not to let Kikwang talk too much. That leads to him overthinking the conversations in his mind when he can't sleep, picking everything that was said apart. Wishing that more had been said, that there was an after instead of just before and during. It's not good.

So many things about this aren't good. But Kikwang beneath him with his breath coming fast and short, that's good. Kikwang's skin underneath his fingertips, tan and warm (burning) to the touch, that's good. Kikwang—just Kikwang, he's so good.

Like, honestly, as much as Dongwoon likes fucking him, he almost likes it better when Kikwang sucks his dick with swollen lips. He's done that twice now and he let Dongwoon come on his face the last time. It was so—Dongwoon thought about it for a week afterwards, a lot of the time without meaning to. And it just—he's so pretty. He's so, so pretty when his hair's a mess and his pupils are blown, when his cheeks are flushed and there's cum dripping from his lips.

So pretty.

He makes these little noises, choked whining sounds in the back of his throat, whenever Dongwoon starts fucking him steadily.

Dongwoon has figured out that that's the sound of him stopping himself from saying anything. It's like, if this was more than it is, he might be asking for things. Dongwoon wants him to ask for things. He wants to give Kikwang things.

But the only thing he seems to let himself say is, "Yes, yes, ah, yes," when Dongwoon fucks him just right.

And, this is the first time he does it, with one of his shoulders and his cheek against the bed, he reaches back a hand to cover Dongwoon's where it's tight on his hip.

The touch makes something in Dongwoon come together, something sweet and heavy on his tongue, a taste of warmth that settles down in his stomach. He comes and it's the first time it feels less like something leaving him and more like something becoming part of him.

He knows as soon as he rolls away and his head hits the pillow Kikwang will be sitting up and reaching for his clothes.

He knows that and it's always bothered him, but this time it hits him harder than it has before. He watches Kikwang breathe in and out, laying on his side now.

"Stay with me," he says, without meaning to.

If nothing else, it gets Kikwang to roll over in the bed, it allows Dongwoon to look at him when he's hazy and unreal, dreamlike and bathed in the low lighting of the room.

"I'll do—anything," he adds. His hand hovers between them—he wants, he wants, he wants

Kikwang laughs, short and almost unsure sounding. "What's that supposed to mean?" He's sitting up now, already turning around to look for his clothes.

Dongwoon stops himself from grabbing his arm, from keeping him from doing what he wants to. He's not going to be like that, it's just—"I don't know why you do this. But I want—I want you to only do it with me. And if you need money, I can pay you."

That gets a turn of Kikwang's head in his direction, gets eyes searching his own. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, really." Dongwoon laughs, nervously, unconsciously sitting up to mirror Kikwang. He runs a hand through his hair. "Just—do you do this to...you know, to support yourself?"

Kikwang blinks at him, almost looking insulted. "Yes," he says, "I do."

"Then I'll make up the difference, I'll pay you double whatever you make doing this in a week." Dongwoon's talking without thinking, but it's almost scarier that he's thought about this before and he knows he means it. "I'll make sure you never have to do this again."

"And in return?" Kikwang asks and Dongwoon feels his hands shaking, because he's considering it. "What would I do in return?"

"Just be—be my—" Dongwoon can't find the word. You don't pay someone to be your boyfriend and the very idea of it seems silly anyway. "I don't know. I guess we'd have to talk about it more. If you want to do it."

Kikwang gets quiet at that. He looks down at his lap for what seems like ages, but is probably only a few minutes. Then he climbs out of the bed and starts getting dressed. Dongwoon feels dread roll down his shoulders, down his back, like so much water. He feels cold all over. He has to apologize—

"Give me your number."

Dongwoon looks up sharply to see Kikwang pulling his shirt over his head, his mouth falling open. He tries to say something, but he can't get any words to come out.

"Your number, please?" Kikwang sounds impatient, but there's something like fondness in his eyes. "I'm not saying I'll do it—but I'll think about it."

Dongwoon can't help it. He smiles and he just can't stop.









It's a week later when Kikwang calls him.

He's out drinking and having dinner with Junhyung, who barely even glances at him when he says he's got to take this. Dongwoon isn't that hurt by it.

And, anyway, he wouldn't show it even if he was.

The bathroom at the back of the restaurant they're in is mercifully empty and he locks the door behind him without a second thought.

He answers his phone with a, "Hello?" that sounds more confident than he feels.

"Well, hello."

Dongwoon can practically hear Kikwang's smirk and he has to lick at his lips and swallow. He hates that he knew who was calling the second he saw an unknown number. He hates that, in the mirror above the sinks, he looks pale and worried. It's probably just the lighting, but he hopes he doesn't look this sick all the time.

"Um," he says, starting to pace, holding his phone tighter now. "Um, hello. Hi."

"I'm pretty sure if I say hello again that we'll keep doing this forever, so I'll stop that right here," Kikwang says, voice teasing. Dongwoon has to bite at the inside of his mouth to keep himself from letting go of some awful noise in the back of his throat.

"Sorry," he says, his phone slipping against his face, against the shaking palm of his hand. "Sorry, uh. I had to—I'm out right now. I went to the bathroom so I could answer—"

"You're out?" Kikwang sounds blown away. "Really? At eleven on a Thursday? I thought—well, honestly, I was sure you'd be getting ready for bed right around now."

"Wh—no, I'm with my friend—we're just having dinner." Dongwoon smiles unconvincingly at himself in the mirror. "Do I really seem that boring?"

"I wonder," Kikwang sighs, trailing off.

It makes Dongwoon nervous to the pit of his stomach to have silence hanging in-between them. They've fucked, but—talking on the phone is different.

"Anyway," Kikwang breaks the silence, sudden and even, "I was actually thinking we could go out to dinner tomorrow. I thought we could talk things over in person."

"Oh!" Dongwoon forgets not to sound excited. "Oh, that would be...yeah. We could do that. Where were you thinking?"

"Actually the whole idea was that I wanted to see what you were thinking," Kikwang says, and his point is painfully clear.

Dongwoon's been doing the math for the past week and he knows that the money he's offered Kikwang is ridiculous. He knows that Kikwang could lie to him and take much more than double what he makes doing what he already does. He knows that even if Kikwang doesn't lie, he'll still be giving him enough money to live more than comfortably for a long time.

He also knows that it's not going to be a problem for him.

So, alright.

"The Park Hyatt," he says, standing up a little taller and looking in the mirror again. He doesn't look that pale anymore. Maybe a little on edge, but he almost looks sure of himself. "I'll make some calls and get us a suite."

"Hm." Kikwang sounds unsure, but interested. "Just like that?"

"Yeah," Dongwoon says, because, honestly, it won't be that hard. He's owed a few favors and, besides, he's never had a request denied. "Just like that. We'll say—eight tomorrow night? If that works for you."

"Sure, but if I show up and you're sitting outside the hotel with a bottle of wine from a convenience store—"

"Trust me. If that was a situation we found ourselves in, the wine would be the best you ever had." Dongwoon's hands shake as he says it, but he knows it's a promise he could keep, if worse came to worse.

"Alright. Eight, then."

Dongwoon splashes water on his face and leaves the bathroom feeling lighter than when he entered. He slides in his seat across from Junhyung and smiles headily.

"Hyung?"

Junhyung looks up at him from his phone, expression stony.

"Can you do me a favor?"

Junhyung blinks at him. If Dongwoon didn't know him so well he'd almost say he was angry.

But he does and he knows that he's not.

And, besides, Junhyung owes him.









He gets wine anyway.

He asks Doojoon what kind to get and follows his instructions to the letter, without exactly knowing what he's getting. It's red wine, heavy and with a cloying smell. Standard, but exceptional, something that Dongwoon thinks describes himself, as well. If the exceptional part of him can be his bank account, anyway.

In any case, Kikwang seems impressed by the suite.

"The fireplace is nice," is the first thing he says. Then, "Sorry, I wasn't sure how I should dress."

"It's fine," Dongwoon says, smiling through his teeth.

Really, it's not. Every other time they've—seen each other, Kikwang's been dressed somewhere between professionally and casually. White button up shirts and dark pants, with effortlessly tousled hair and—well, really it's never mattered because, really, all that just ends up on the floor in at least ten minutes.

But now he's got Kikwang standing in a hotel room worth twenty more of those fucks, wearing basketball shorts with a grey sweater and an ugly hat and—and sneakers.

It's more than a little offensive.

But it's easy to forget when Kikwang turns back to him and says, "So, want your dick sucked now or later?"

"I—oh—I didn't—"

"Yeah, it's fine, I was joking." Kikwang smiles at him, like he just knows. "I'm not about to do that for free when I know you'll pay for it. Which, I guess, is sort of the first thing we need to discuss."

"Do you want to...sit down?" He gestures to the couch, to where he has wine and candles burning. It's nothing new, doing all this. What's new is doing it for someone he can't stop thinking about. Someone he hopes is around for more than one night.

Kikwang looks at him like he's a child he has to pacify—which is a little worrying, considering he's sure Kikwang is younger than him by at least a few years.

"Sure," Kikwang says, despite the look, moving to sit down.

It sets Dongwoon at ease, honestly. Standing in the middle of the room felt so awkward. Confrontational, almost. Like they were going to discuss the terms to some shady deal. And maybe that is what's going on, but sitting by Kikwang on the couch makes it feel like what he wishes it was. A date.

"So—oh, this is good." Kikwang's got the glass of wine meant for him against his lips, an appraising look on his face. "Don't start telling me what year it is or what country it's from or whatever. I don't understand any of that. I just know this is good."

Dongwoon wants to say I told you so, but he figures his smile is probably already childish enough, so he settles on, "Alright. I'm glad you like it."

Kikwang nods and sets the wine glass down, sitting back against the couch before he speaks again.

"The thing I don't get is...you know...why?"

Dongwoon opens his mouth to answer, but can't find the words. Instead, he says, "Uh. Ah. It's—what do you mean, exactly?"

"Well, after about the third time you asked for me I started figuring you out," Kikwang says, shifting around to get more comfortable, leaning down to pull his shoes off as he does. "I thought, okay, this guy is relatively young and good-looking, but he's here? Really, there's only a handful of reasons as to why you'd be paying for sex, you know."

"I...yeah, that's true," Dongwoon admits, feeling uneasy.

Kikwang seems unaffected by his reaction. He just seems to be trying to get as comfortable as possible, stretching his legs out and putting his feet on the table, nearly setting his own sock on fire with how close it is to the flame of one of the candles.

"To me, there were really only two options with you." He puts up his pointer and middle fingers, right in front of Dongwoon's face. "The first was that you were a loser with no friends who spent all his time working and needed some sort of sexual release. In that scenario, of course, you would have been unable to get laid without paying for it. But I'm thinking that's probably not the case. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Dongwoon asks, nervously.

"The jury's still out on whether you're a loser or not," Kikwang supplies, "but the rest probably isn't true. However!" He puts down his middle finger and points right at Dongwoon's nose, nearly touching it. "Since the rest of that idea isn't true, the second scenario must be. In this one you lack confidence when it comes to your sexuality and have not told any of your friends or family. Therefore, in order to have any sexual experiences that you actually find enjoyable, you have to pay for them. Right?"

"Ah." Dongwoon almost laughs, but stops himself as soon as Kikwang's lower lip juts out, his brow furrowed. He's pouting. "Well, no. Not quite. Or, you know, at all. But you have a really good imagination."

Kikwang leans forward, making a whining sound not unlike the ones he makes when—well, at other times. "But, then—why?"

"Because," Dongwoon says, slowly, not sure how to put this. "Because I was...bored."

"Bored?" Kikwang just nearly misses kicking over his wine glass and enough candles to send the whole place up in flames. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I wasn't joking when I said I could pay you double whatever you're making right now." Dongwoon decides to just put it out there. It seems better than fumbling around for ways to convince Kikwang that he was wrong about him. "I have a lot of money and I'm bored. You make me less bored. I just wanted to fuck around a little bit, but then—I liked you."

He can feel his face heating up and he has to look away from Kikwang's eyes, from his slightly parted lips, from his mouth that must taste like red wine, now.

But, "No kissing," is the first thing Kikwang says.

"What?"

"No kissing and no petnames other than 'baby' and no—no—anguished declarations of love," Kikwang elaborates. "If you have the money then, fine. We can figure something out. But I have conditions. I have boundaries. You can love my ass or my dick or my mouth, but you aren't allowed to love me. That needs to be clear."

"What about you?" Dongwoon asks, feeling stupid as soon as the question escapes his lips.

"Oh." Kikwang smiles and Dongwoon feels warm all over. "Don't worry about me. There's only one thing I love."

"What's that?"

"Money."









Of course Dongwoon fucks him in the hotel room. Sheets like satin and Kikwang's eyes dark and hooded—he'd be stupid not to.

And Kikwang says the only thing he loves is money, but he clearly feels something for being filled up, for being pinned down, for having bruises on his hips the next morning. That last part, that's from when Dongwoon sucked his dick and Kikwang tried to fuck his face. Dongwoon had to hold him down, had to stop him, had to make him slow down.

He says, "Shh, baby," when Kikwang starts making desperate noises. He pushes Kikwang's hair off his forehead and thinks, for one feverish second, about kissing him there before pushing the thought away and locking it up. Not again, never again, it will get dangerous if he lets himself hope for it.

Instead he calls Kikwang by the only name he's allowed and fucks him until he comes between both of them, with a quiet gasp of, "Yes, yes," and then, "Daddy."

Good enough.










Dongwoon isn't sure if he's supposed to let Kikwang move in with him or not, but Kikwang says, "What's your address?" He asks, "Does your building allow pets?" He says, "I have a lot of clothes."

They work things out, after that, through texting and phone calls and it all feels remarkably normal.

Kikwang sends him pictures of a small dog he calls Jordan and he whines to him over a Skype call about how hard it is to pick clothes to bring over and he drops his phone on the floor when Dongwoon's in the middle of talking him through jerking off.

It would probably feel completely normal if it weren't the discussions about Kikwang's bank account and how it might just be easier for Dongwoon to give him his own credit card. It's not exactly sexy to talk about bills and living expenses.

Kikwang is...difficult, to say the least.

He assumes Dongwoon always knows what he means and rattles off names like Dongwoon knows all of his friends.

But, "They aren't my friends, really," he admits, one night. "They're people I work with. Worked with."

"Is there etiquette for that?" Dongwoon asks, half-asleep and with his phone pressed against his ear. "Did you have to hand in a two week notice?"

"No." Kikwang sounds tired and maybe a little annoyed. "I just told them I was done. They said...well, they always expect people to come back to them. It is good money."

"I'm giving you better money," Dongwoon reminds him, feeling more than a little hopeless.

He likes to think that Kikwang is smiling fondly when he replies, "That's true."









It's a Friday when Kikwang moves in. But it's not quite moving in. He still has an apartment twenty minutes away and all the things that entails. Dongwoon will be paying the rent for it, they've figured that out. It's a small place, though. He can more than handle it.

There's also the dog growling at him, but he can handle that, too.

"Jordan, sit!" Kikwang keeps saying, ineffectually. All it seems to do is make the brown and white fluffball quiet down for a few minutes before it starts up again. "I think he likes you," is something Kikwang says, looking completely earnest as he sits on the couch watching Dongwoon carry in shoe boxes.

Dongwoon isn't sure why one person needs this many shoes, but he guesses there are worse vices to have.

Aside from shoes, Kikwang brought about ten pounds of other clothing, assorted dog toys and dog food, and a small country's worth of electronics.

He forgot his toothbrush, though.

It's a bit unexpected that the first purchase Dongwoon makes for him is a toothbrush at the convenience store five minutes from his apartment building, but not entirely unwelcome.

When he gets back he's greeted by Jordan growling at him alone from his bed which has been set up in the living room. Kikwang isn't in the bathroom, either, which is where Dongwoon leaves his toothbrush. He's not in the kitchen, or the bedroom, or the guest room, which means—

"How do you have a whole room of flowers?" Kikwang asks, from where he's walking inbetween rows of hydrangeas.

"It was supposed to be an office." Dongwoon shrugs. "I don't need an office."

Kikwang looks at him, like he's appraising him. "You don't need an office, but you need a garden inside? With all these lights and this water set up?"

"I need something to do," Dongwoon says, "let's go with that."

"Hm."

It's not a very large room, really, so it doesn't take Kikwang long to end up back at the doorway again.

"How much did this cost you?" Kikwang asks. It's almost accusatory.

"I don't pay much attention to how much anything costs me," Dongwoon says, which is a lie, but—he doesn't plan on paying much attention to how much Kikwang costs him. The return is more than enough. And, anyway, he likes the way Kikwang blinks slowly at his words.

"What if I want more than you can offer?"

"I don't think you could even think of something that fits that criteria."

Kikwang licks at his lips and Dongwoon wants to bite them, make them swollen and spit-slicked, make them open up wide for him, wants to fuck into them.

"What do you do for a living?" Kikwang asks, that pretty mouth of his moving to ask such a trivial question. Such a stupid question, really.

"Nothing," Dongwoon replies, and it's true. He watches interest accrue on money he's had longer than he can remember. He has other people invest it for him and reaps the benefits. He's never had to worry about something more pressing than if he's going to fuck Kikwang right here or somewhere else.

The answer is: right here.

It's hard and Dongwoon's muscles will be burning tomorrow, he's sure of that, but.

He fucks Kikwang against the wall and decides that next time he's going to make him beg for it.

But not this time.









Here are some things he discovers about Kikwang after a week of living with him.

Kikwang is naked about as often as he isn't. Sometimes Dongwoon will just find a trail of clothes from one room to the next, with Kikwang laying on the couch, watching some terrible movie without a care in the world.

Because, yeah, also? Kikwang has terrible taste in things. He seems to love children's movies, animated ones, the kind that are overwhelmingly mediocre. He loves them. It's been seven days since Kikwang moved in and he's watched Shrek 2 twice in that time. There are some faults you just have to accept about a person.

He sleeps with a sleeping mask on, like some sort of diva.

Which makes sense, because he is a diva. He makes a list of food for Dongwoon to buy and it includes grapefruit juice and brand name water bottles. Dongwoon gets Gatorade, because it was on sale. This leads to Kikwang threatening to never suck a dick again in his lifetime and Dongwoon getting his dick sucked in the kitchen because, yeah, right.

Really, he never shuts up unless there's a cock in his mouth or his ass or wherever. Kikwang talks during movies and tv shows, he talks while he has food in his mouth, he talks when there's nothing to talk about. It's almost endearing, which is how Dongwoon knows he has it really bad.

But, also, he's really, really good at getting fucked. He's really good at sitting on Dongwoon's lap and panting as his hips rise up and then lower down again. He's good at saying, "Daddy, please," when he wants his dick touched. He's good at looking pretty when he's been fucked so hard he can't move anymore, when he's so exhausted all he can do is lay on Dongwoon's bed covered in his own cum and looking obscene.

God—it's just. Dongwoon likes him. He likes him, God help him, he does.









When Kikwang wants something he asks for it.

He wants Givenchy shirts and all kinds of shoes and can Dongwoon get him a car?

Sure.

But Kikwang doesn't want to drive, no, he says as he rolls onto his side on the bed, he'd rather have Dongwoon drive him everywhere.

Alright.

Dongwoon can't say no to him. He can't and it's okay, because that's kind of what this whole thing is based on. Kikwang asking for things and Dongwoon giving, giving, giving.

In return he gets Kikwang sleeping against him, he gets Kikwang eating food in bed with him, he gets Kikwang making stupid jokes, Kikwang laughing at everything he says, Kikwang waking him up, Kikwang, Kikwang, Kikwang.

And Dongwoon calls him baby without thinking already. He doesn't flinch—not even internally—at being called Daddy anymore.

Kikwang has his own credit card, but he always asks before he uses it, which almost seems at odds with everything else about him. But Dongwoon has come to realize that there is something soft in the middle of all of Kikwang's loud exuberance. It's something he hasn't fully unearthed yet, but he's patient enough to wait for it.

All he knows is that, at times, it really does seem like Kikwang cares as much about him as he cares about Kikwang—but, the thing is, Kikwang doesn't really like him.

In-between everything, in-between the fucking and small moments of almost-domesticity, sometimes he feels like Kikwang doesn't even know he exists.

Mostly, he's on his phone. And if it's not that, he's not even there.

Sometimes he just gets up, gets dressed, and leaves. He's never gone for more than a night, he's always back in the morning, but still.

Dongwoon's too worried he'll upset the balance of things to ask him where he goes. For all he knows, Kikwang has a real relationship with someone, has someone who's much more important. Maybe he just needs time by himself or maybe he has something he needs to do.

Dongwoon knows it could be any number of things.

And he also knows that, above everything else, Kikwang loves his stupid little dog.

There hasn't been a night yet where Dongwoon has really slept alone. Even when Kikwang's gone he has Jordan crawling on top of him, crying and licking his face.

All things said, Dongwoon is sure Kikwang wouldn't leave his dog behind if he didn't intend to come back.

His clothes, maybe. His toothbrush and towels, sure. Dongwoon and his money, definitely.

But not his dog.

So Dongwoon sleeps alone some nights, but not quite. He sleeps with a small dog and the heavy smell of cologne on his sheets that isn't his own. And he sleeps with the knowledge that there is somewhere Kikwang would rather be and that he's going to have to accept that.









Doojoon is, as ex-boyfriends go, not the absolute worst. But he's getting there.

He texts Dongwoon one day: ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

Dongwoon, because he is a mature adult, texts him back every emoji of a flower he can find.

What follows is a long string of texts that Kikwang, from where he's laying on the couch, legs across Dongwoon's lap, raises his eyebrows at.

So, Doojoon. Not the absolute worst, but getting there.

what have u been up to!!!!!!!!

i haven't seen u in a MONTH!

junhyung says u have a boyfriend..ㅠ

is it true..ㅠㅠㅠ

Dongwoon looks at Kikwang, who is currently watching a cartoon in his boxers, and will probably want to fuck once it's over.

yes, he replies, i do. i have many boyfriends in stark contrast with your zero boyfriends.

It's a few hours before Doojoon replies again.

By then, Dongwoon's fucked Kikwang on the floor twice with the news on in the background. Dongwoon doesn't like it much that way, it bothers his knees, but Kikwang does. He gets carpet burn on his shoulders, of all places, and after the first time he said, "Again, let's do it again," and whined when Dongwoon hesitated.

Now he's gone, though, off to wherever he goes.

And Doojoon texts, whatever...lets meet up??? just got out of work...we could go to that little place near your building.

Dongwoon knows just the one.









The first thing Doojoon asks is, "So what's his dick like?"

The second thing is, "Oh, and how are you?"

Dongwoon ignores the first question and answers the second one as plainly as possible. He's fine, pass the salt, and mind your own business, hyung.

And Doojoon does for a while. He's not as invasive as he wants to act like he is. He's always interested in what people are up to, Dongwoon especially, but he'll back off once he's told to. For a while, anyway. It's one of the reasons Dongwoon has always come back to him over the years. He pushes and he prods, but when Dongwoon tells him to stop he always, always does.

This time it just isn't that serious, though.

They share bulgogi and drink soju and Dongwoon even laughs a few times at the stupid jokes Doojoon makes when he starts tripping over his words.

He doesn't laugh when Doojoon says, "Your mom was at my parent's house the other day. Have you talked to her lately?"

He just chews at his inside of his mouth and leans back in his chair. He wishes this didn't come up every time they see each other. He wishes—a lot of things.

"So that's a no." Doojoon drops his napkin on his cleared plate and puts his hands up, like Dongwoon's accused him of something he's guilty of. "Fine, alright. I won't—whatever, I'll let it go, but—you have to tell me about this guy. Junhyung said you...you dropped...how much exactly on a hotel room for him?"

"Ah, hyung." Dongwoon avoids Doojoon's eyes. "I've done more for less before."

"Liar," Doojoon smiles, fondly. "This is different. He's living with you."

Dongwoon breathes out, annoyed. "Is there anything Junhyung hasn't told you? I swear."

"Of course not. Don't be too hard on him, though, I might have asked him about it more than a few times. And, you know, we all just want you to be happy. I just want to know if you are."

"I'm trying to be," Dongwoon answers, slowly, and Doojoon drinks to that.

The truth doesn't come out until one in the morning, when they're on the sidewalk, saying goodbye.

Dongwoon says, "I'm not really—he's not—I'm paying him. To be with me. This guy. I'm paying him."

Doojoon is swaying, but wide awake. Dongwoon is sure he heard him, but just doesn't know what to say.

"I'm really trying. I'm doing everything I can. I like him and—I plant flowers. And sometimes I even forget that my parents wish I didn't exist."

Doojoon doesn't say that isn't true or no don't say that. Instead he nods and he tells him, "Call me more often. Talk to me. Do whatever you want otherwise, but talk to me. Talk to Junhyung. We're family, almost. And—and we—I'm gonna puke."

He does, spectacularly on the side of the road and it's disgusting and funny and Dongwoon decides that there's no way he'll avoid him anymore. Because, throwing up outside a restaurant or not, Doojoon is one of the only people who's always been there for him.

And he's certainly the only one who asks if he's happy.









Dongwoon stays out until early in the morning. He sits in his car until the coffee place three blocks away from his apartment is open and then he calls Junhyung and leaves a scathing message for him about the morality of keeping things said in confidence to yourself while sipping at the foam of his cappuccino.

He finishes the message with, "But...thank you. Let's see each other again soon."

He gets back to his apartment at half past six in the morning, exhausted and ready to fall into bed.

When he gets there, however, he finds Kikwang huddled in the blankets with his phone and his dog and wide eyes.

"Where were you?" Kikwang blurts out, looking equal parts embarrassed and worried.

"Ah," Dongwoon doesn't know what to say. "Ah...out?"

Kikwang looks so hurt it's almost funny. Dongwoon is too tired to think beyond the fact that he should really brush his teeth before he lays down.

He goes into the bathroom and, not a minute later, Kikwang follows him in, still wrapped in a comforter.

"Wha'?" Dongwoon asks through a mouth full of toothpaste, before spitting it out into the sink.

Kikwang's lower lip is jutted out and he has bags under his eyes.

"Where were you?" he asks. Pathetic isn't usually a word Dongwoon would use to describe him, but it's the only one that comes to mind now.

Dongwoon spits again and gets a drink of water before answering. "Out," he says, "with a friend. Why? Where were you?"

"Wh—me?" Kikwang seems shocked by the question. "What does—you're always here when I come back. I don't understand."

"Well, I don't just exist when you can see me," Dongwoon snaps, feeling everything in him bubble over. "I know other people. I have a life and it doesn't revolve around you, just like yours clearly doesn't revolve around me."

He pushes past Kikwang and ignores Jordan, who's started growling at him from his perch on the bed, as he starts getting undressed.

Somehow, miraculously, Kikwang is quiet for more than half a second.

It isn't until Dongwoon's in a t-shirt and boxers that he says, "I just go home. When I'm gone. Sometimes I go see my friend, but mostly I go home. I've never lived with someone before. I need space."

Dongwoon doesn't say anything, just nods and sits on the edge of the bed.

"I think," Kikwang says, standing in front of him, "I think we should start over."

"Start over," Dongwoon repeats, like the phrase is foreign to him.

"Yeah," Kikwang breathes out and keeps his eyes on the floor. And Dongwoon realizes that he's nervous, actually nervous, about suggesting this. "I really think we should. I'm sorry. It's been a month and we still don't know each other that well. And that's my fault. So I think starting over would be good."

"No," Dongwoon says, so suddenly that he almost surprises himself. "No, I don't think so. I mean, you're right about everything else, but I don't think starting over is going to really help."

"Oh," Kikwang says, softly.

"God, you look so sad, come here." Dongwoon reaches out and grabs one of his hands, pulling him forward. "Listen to me, it's just—that's not going to solve anything. And I really, really don't want to pretend I don't know how good you look with a dick in your mouth, anyway."

"True," Kikwang says, brow furrowed, completely serious.

"So, instead of that...let's just be better, okay?" Dongwoon pauses before prompting again. "Okay?"

Kikwang nods, but still looks sullen.

"Baby," Dongwoon says (and somehow it makes him more nervous now than when he says it when they're fucking), "baby, smile for me."

"No, Daddy, I—"

"Come on."

Dongwoon squeezes his hand and scrunches up his face. He knows he looks stupid like that, but it gets a hesitant laugh out of Kikwang and then he's smiling, really, really, for the first time—smiling at Dongwoon so wide it must hurt.

Dongwoon kisses him gently, then, early in the morning with his mouth tasting like toothpaste and a dog whining for attention behind them.






turn the tape over for the b-side.
Tags: f: sweet like, g: b2st, p: kiwoon, r: nc-17, t: longfic
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