fussin' over scars on my soul.
for my lovely, beautiful ani. inspired by this which is what i believe kiseob to be in its simplest, purest form.
down here lowThe first time is on Junhyung's birthday.
Somehow Yoseob ends up giving Kikwang a ride home, and—well, there's no somehow about it. It's a calculated effort on everyone else's part to try to ease tensions. Really, Doojoon lives closer to Kikwang and Yoseob never gives anyone a ride home. It's not exactly rocket science, especially with Hyunseung looking between them and smiling nervously before they leave.
Sure, whatever, Kikwang will play along.
They don't talk until they're half a mile away from Junhyung's place, the sides of city buildings rolling past them, rain-slicked streets underneath the tires of the car.
"Your place or mine?" Yoseob says, eyes on the red light he's about to run in front of them. He's supposed to be so good, but he's always breaking rules where Kikwang can see him.
Kikwang doesn't know if he's joking, but he says, "Yours," anyway.
They crash into the door of Yoseob's apartment, the two of them fighting for something neither of them really needs.
It's ugly, really. And Yoseob isn't gentle, he's bruising and only mindful of Kikwang's sharp edges, not of his own. He cuts Kikwang open, exposes him, bites at his jawline and licks at what he's done, not with the intention to heal, but with the knowledge that it will hurt.
Kikwang, for his part, isn't being soft. Maybe softer, but that's all he'll admit to.
He doesn't have to peel back any part of Yoseob. With him, Yoseob is something fierce, something different than he is with anyone else. With everyone else around he smiles even when it doesn't reach his eyes. With Kikwang he doesn't bother, he doesn't care enough to.
Kikwang would almost like it if he didn't hate it so much.
They're falling through Yoseob's apartment and leaving clothes as they go. Yoseob's door is closed behind them and Kikwang is tripping over his pants as he tries to lick past Yoseob's lips. They knock over an empty coffee mug and binders full of medical terminology as they go. There's a mess behind them that neither one of them will clean up until later.
Kikwang is pushed onto Yoseob's bed and Yoseob is holding his hips down before he can do anything.
He swallows and—"Do you want to get fucked?"
Kikwang has a response for that. Yoseob can try to make him beg for something, but he knows he looks good where he is. He knows he always looks good. He doesn't have to ask for something he knows he'll get given anyway.
"I know you want to fuck me, so I'll let you," is his response.
He's stretched out on Yoseob's chocolate brown comforter, and he might look vulnerable but he's not. He's got poison in his veins and fangs that will sink into skin, and he's not about to show mercy here or now.
"I can leave, if you want me to," he continues. "Because I'm not going to ask you to do something I know you want to do, anyway."
Throughout all of this, Yoseob's hands are still tight on his hips, not letting go. He could leave if he wanted to, though, honestly, he just doesn't want to. Not really. Not yet, at least.
And Yoseob's looking at him appraisingly, like he's wondering if Kikwang is worth this. Kikwang just stares right back, because he knows that the answer is that he is, unquestionably.
Whatever conclusion Yoseob comes to, it manifests in the form of fingers pushing into Kikwang's mouth, parting his lips obscenely. He blinks at Yoseob because he wasn't exactly expecting this from him, but he still closes his mouth around his fingers and runs his tongue in-between them, over them, under them.
"I'll fuck you," Yoseob's saying. "And you'll leave after. That's all I want."
Kikwang doesn't look him in the eye, even though there's a part of him that wants to. He does raise his eyebrows, like is that supposed to be a surprise?
It's just—it's mutual, it always has been.
When Yoseob slips his fingers out of his mouth there's a wet sound and he almost laughs.
"Oh," he says, "Yoseob...please don't be like that."
"Please don't act like you actually think I'd want to stay after this."
"Ah..." Yoseob smiles for the first time since they got here. "True."
And he does fuck Kikwang and Kikwang does leave after, hurting and exhausted, but more awake than he's been in a while.
That's how it starts.
The next time, they don't even make it to Yoseob's apartment.
Kikwang's got his dick in his mouth in the parking lot of a strip mall, leaned over the gearshift and already feeling a pain in his neck that's going to be bothering him for days.
But it's about pride.
He can feel the head of Yoseob's cock at the back of his throat and he's got Yoseob's hands in his hair, pulling tight. Even if he's saying, "I-Is that really the best...you can do?" Kikwang knows he's on the edge of losing control.
He's found that there's nothing special he has to do when he sucks dick. He looks good doing it and it's just—easy.
In some ways, he likes it. Not the taste or the feeling, exactly, but the way he can make someone come undone without even using his hands, without even looking at them. He likes that.
He likes the noises Yoseob is biting back and swallowing down, the noises he's trying to pretend he's not making. The fact that, if holds Yoseob's balls in his hand and bites down, just a little, and presses his tongue upwards, he hears, "Ah, Ki...ki..."
It's just that much, nothing more, but it feels like victory.
And Yoseob's cum tastes like nothing special at the back of his throat. But he looks good breathing heavily and leaned back against the seat of his car.
Kikwang sits back to, wiping off his lips with the back of his hand and smoothing down the front of his shirt.
"So," he says, smiling, "your place or mine?"
He fucks Yoseob a week later.
There are little things in-between.
Of particular note is the phone call he gets one early morning where Yoseob's voice is strangely sweet, like coffee with a hint of milk, and he just wants Kikwang to talk to him while he jerks off, which is—whatever, it's nothing new to Kikwang. But it isn't something he expected this whole thing to entail.
But: fucking Yoseob.
That happens at Dongwoon's place, at some party he's having for something or another. Kikwang doesn't remember, or particularly care. All he knows is that he ends up in the bathroom with the door locked and Yoseob pushed up against the mirror behind the sink.
"You sure you want to do this?" he pants, not knowing when he started liking the way Yoseob looks at him. "Because everyone's gonna know."
"Everyone already knows," Yoseob says, which is true enough.
Kikwang isn't gentle about it. He doesn't feel the need to be. It isn't like Yoseob's never been fucked before and, really, even if it was—well, he refuses to ask for it, but his hips are rising to meet Kikwang.
Somehow, Kikwang has never felt like someone wanted him more.
He fucks into Yoseob and it's so—satisfying. Like there's some big weight being lifted off him, like he's finally been allowed to breathe.
He wonders if this is what Yoseob felt when he fucked him.
Probably not, but—maybe.
Overall, Yoseob is a good fuck. He isn't very noisy, but he reacts physically, shifting his hips down and holding onto Kikwang's shoulders tighter, tighter, he's so tight. If Kikwang was going to write a review on Yelp, he'd give Yoseob's ass five stars. Never mind that he's never used Yelp, whatever. The idea of it is funny in his head and he even laughs a little, which makes Yoseob raise his eyebrows.
He fucks him and licks at the skin where his shoulder slopes into his neck. His thighs are hitting the edge of the counter with every thrust and he knows he's going to have bruises there tomorrow morning. Still, Yoseob's position is much more uncomfortable, barely sitting perilously above the sink, hitting the back of his head against the mirror, his only source of balance is to hold onto Kikwang's shoulders.
But he's not complaining. He's taking Kikwang's dick and only showing slight discomfort with his shaky breaths and, strangled moans. He never lets out the full force of what he's feeling, but Kikwang is always holding back, too. It's not like he can fault Yoseob. Especially not right now.
Not when it doesn't take much more than seven minutes of Yoseob tight around him to make him cum, to make him slip-fall away and stumble backwards, leaving Yoseob to touch his own dick.
"Do you want—do you want—?"
Yoseob shakes his head and, in a way, it's nice to watch. Leaning back against the wall behind him, Kikwang keeps his eyes on the way Yoseob's biting down on his own bottom lip as he jacks himself off. There's nothing all that interesting about it. He has no technique to speak of, honestly. But Kikwang still likes seeing it, likes watching the flush on Yoseob's cheeks burn red-hot just before he tilts his head back and comes all over his own stomach.
"Okay," Kikwang says, because he has nothing else to say as he resists the urge to push his sweat-soaked hands through his hair. "Okay."
There's the startling sound of pounding against the door, rising above even the deep beat of the music that's playing and someone yelling at them to open the fucking door.
Kikwang nods, zips up his pants and, ignoring Yoseob's tired protests, does just that.
After that, everyone knows.
But, Yoseob was right, everyone kind of knew all along, except them.
Still, it's nice to be able to suck Yoseob's dick in front of his apartment building and not feel more than a little guilty about it.
It's three in the morning and it's dark except for street lamps that are buzzing gold, high in the sky, except for Yoseob doing his best not to tell Kikwang he's doing a good job.
(That's fine, Kikwang knows he is.)
He lets Yoseob's dick fall out of his mouth and licks up the side of it, kisses near the tip. He smiles and looks up and says, "Do you want to come on my face?"
"Do you like that?" Yoseob asks. He's leaning back against the trunk of his own car, his silhouette dark against the glossy maroon paint job, looking dazed, like he let himself forget where they are, like he's only inches away from release—and Kikwang knows he is.
"Does it matter?" Kikwang replies. He's got one hand on the side of Yoseob's bare thigh, just above where his jeans and boxers are pulled down to.
"Yes," Yoseob grits out with shaking legs just barely holding him up.
Kikwang pouts from where he's kneeled on the asphalt. His knees are starting to hurt. "I'd like it if you did it."
Kikwang takes the head of Yoseob's dick into his mouth again, his tongue pressed hard against the underside and his cheeks hollowed out. And Yoseob makes a keening sound in the back of his throat, he pushes one unsteady hand through the front of Kikwang's hair and slides down the back of the car a few inches.
All of that is Kikwang's cue to back up.
He opens his mouth without thinking and tastes cum, sticky and warm and waking him up, against his tongue and his lips. He can feel it on his cheek, on the tip of his nose, too.
And he knows by the way Yoseob is looking at him that he looks good, that he is why Yoseob is sliding to the ground right now.
"Hey, hey," he says, grabbing at Yoseob's waist and pulling him close.
"Ah," Yoseob says against him, softly, like he's surprised by the touch.
"Sorry," Kikwang says, instinctively.
But Yoseob's face is buried in his shoulder and he's saying, "Can I come inside?"
And Kikwang is saying, "Of course," before he can think of another answer.
Because there isn't one, really.
Kikwang starts waking up in the morning and finding Yoseob in bed next to him.
Some mornings Yoseob wakes him up by playing with his hair and then starts kissing at his collarbone and his neck lazily.
He'll turn Kikwang over and trace lines over the expanse of his back, like he's trying to find some secrets hidden there. Whatever he finds, Kikwang doesn't care—Yoseob fucks him facedown in the mornings, with his cheek against the mattress, fucks him so hard he drools and has to sleep for another hours afterwards.
Other mornings, Kikwang wakes up because Yoseob's phone won't stop going off.
Because Hyunseung got tired of texting Yoseob and started texting Kikwang instead, saying, i know he's there please just have him text me!!!!!!!!!
And Kikwang has to press kisses against Yoseob's shoulder until he moans and rolls over, which means he'll be awake in another fifteen minutes.
Kikwang knows this now. Yoseob is slow to get up and groggy in the morning. If they're not fucking, then he doesn't want to talk unless he's been up for at least an hour. But they can lay in comfortable silence until one of them has to get up, until one of them has to go somewhere.
They text each other every so often, with links to weird articles online and with pictures of food or the skyline. There's never much to say, but they've never put much stock in conversations.
Somehow, over time, Kikwang ends up spending more nights with Yoseob than without him.
Kikwang asks one night, as Yoseob kisses at the inside of his thigh, "How did this happen?"
And when Yoseob looks up at him and his smile reaches his eyes—he doesn't need to hear the answer.