[infinite] cyclic constructs
Title: cyclic constructs
Rating: r
Word count: 950
Summary: Woohyun is an arrogant ass. But Sunggyu is worse, in some ways. Especially since he doesn't have to shave.
cyclic constructs.
We can never establish with certainty what part of our relations with others is the result of our emotions - love, antipathy, charity, or malice - and what part is predetermined by the constant power play among individuals.
milan kundera
∞
Sunggyu catches him at it in the bathroom right after their music lesson ends.
"I can't believe you have to shave."
"Fuck off." Because of course Sunggyu never has acne, never wakes up to zits below his chin or stubble coating the bit of skin above his lips. Sunggyu slides out of bed, stumbles into the shower, and just needs a tiny bit of foundation before getting onstage, back straight, eyebrows pointed, throat clear.
Woohyun's alarm goes off half an hour before anyone else. He needs ten minutes to shower, five to shave, and another handful to carefully exfoliate and apply toner.
"Actually, it's more like I cannot believe that you carry that shaver everywhere. Scared of razors?"
"Everyone shaves."
"I don't."
Sunggyu's hands are warm against the back of his neck, nails cutting into his skin, fingers rubbing against the bumps of his spine.
"Oh really?"
Sunggyu face is too close, Woohyun thinks. Too fucking close and he is too much of a fucking tease and--
"See for yourself." Sunggyu hooks his index finger in the waistband of Woohyun's jeans and his eyes are dark and narrow and this is the Sunggyu only Woohyun knows. The leader who gets angry and selfish and takes and takes and doesn't know how to give back.
"Please," Woohyun says, meaning yes and no and all of the words in between.
∞
He's not quite sure when "hating Sunggyu" turned into "rutting against Sunggyu in bathroom stalls" and "waiting for Sunggyu after practice to walk home together," but Woohyun can't imagine making the trek alone anymore. It's been months since he's had to, and narrow streets and spotty lamplight doesn’t sound nearly as appealing any longer, not when the weight of tomorrow presses into his chest and makes it hard to breathe.
So he shuffles against the front of the cafe opposite Woolim's building and waits for Sunggyu to trudge outside, back sloping, stomach sort of caving in, hair in his eyes. From half a block away, Sunggyu could be anyone.
“Don’t you have something better to be doing?”
Woohyun shrugs. “I don’t need as much practice as you, clearly.”
Sunggyu tells him that nothing's fucking changed, that Sunggyu wants to sing, that if Woohyun wants to put on makeup and walk around without a shirt for a thousand flashing cameras, he should just quit. He doesn’t put on his headphones, though, and despite the angry rumble of nighttime in Seoul, Woohyun can make out the soft drumbeats of Nell’s Stay.
Heat rolls off of Sunggyu’s shoulders.
Sunggyu doesn’t turn off his iPod until they’ve both gotten home, toed off their shoes, and retreated into the room they share.
"I can sing as well as you can," Woohyun tries to say. Sunggyu's hand is sliding into his pants, though, calloused thumb flicking at the head of his cock so he's not all that sure that he’s achieving coherency.
"Not according to Tablo."
"What the fuck does he know."
"I heard. Today. He's going to help pick who stays--who gets to debut."
Oh, Woohyun thinks. Well then.
The bags underneath Sunggyu's eyes get deeper all the time, Woohyun thinks distractedly. A nail circles his right nipple, and fingers dig into the curve of his hip. He bites his lip and tries not to buck backwards into the wall dividing their room from the hall. Sungjong has been sneaking into the kitchen every night after midnight for snacks. He could hear. They could find out.
"Pay attention to me."
Woohyun closes his eyes. "Yes, hyung."
∞
On camera, Sunggyu never stops smiling. He thanks their teachers with perfect right-angle bows and shakes hands with the same palms he uses to jerk Woohyun off at night. There’s something horrifyingly blasé about that smile. It digs at Woohyun, seeps into the cracks in his makeup, and even Myungsoo needs to tell him to stop dozing off and fucking up.
“You should stop staring. They’ll find out.”
“You keep touching me, hyung.”
Sunggyu curls into Woohyun’s lap during practice, flits a hand across his wrist during interviews, and leans into Woohyun’s shoulders, palming the lengths of muscle he bruised the previous night, snapping Woohyun’s head backwards as he canted into him.
“It’s what they’ll expect.”
“They?”
“We’re debuting, you fuck. I told you that. The fans.”
Woohyun doesn’t actually think it’s fair that Sunggyu expects him to be taking notes while Sunggyu’s mouth is on his cock, but Sunggyu has always abdicated responsibility, shrugged off everything but the end result, the credit, the stars in Kim Jongwan’s eyes when he heard Sunggyu’s rendition of his music.
There’s something rattling in his ribcage, something totally separate from the twitching of his thighs, the burning below his navel, and the wet lips on the shaft of his cock.
Fans, he says or thinks or something in between and comes in Sunggyu’s mouth. He definitely screams, because Sunggyu’s hand shoots up to cover his face, and he can’t breathe properly for what feels like centuries.
“You taste like crap,” Sunggyu says later after Woohyun’s jerked him off, after Woohyun's snuck into the bathroom for a damp towel and cleaned both of them off. After they’re both lying in separate beds, after they’ve tidying up their dirty linens, in case tomorrow is the day they’ll wake up with cameras in their faces and their lives plastered around the internet.
“You didn’t have to swallow.”
“You bitch about it in your sleep. Don’t.”
Sunggyu knows everything.
“Yes, hyung.”
∞
a/n: the girl across an ocean who is willing to read anything i write before it gets posted is the most flawfree human being i have ever had the pleasure of knowing. thank you, reifica.
Rating: r
Word count: 950
Summary: Woohyun is an arrogant ass. But Sunggyu is worse, in some ways. Especially since he doesn't have to shave.
cyclic constructs.
We can never establish with certainty what part of our relations with others is the result of our emotions - love, antipathy, charity, or malice - and what part is predetermined by the constant power play among individuals.
milan kundera
∞
Sunggyu catches him at it in the bathroom right after their music lesson ends.
"I can't believe you have to shave."
"Fuck off." Because of course Sunggyu never has acne, never wakes up to zits below his chin or stubble coating the bit of skin above his lips. Sunggyu slides out of bed, stumbles into the shower, and just needs a tiny bit of foundation before getting onstage, back straight, eyebrows pointed, throat clear.
Woohyun's alarm goes off half an hour before anyone else. He needs ten minutes to shower, five to shave, and another handful to carefully exfoliate and apply toner.
"Actually, it's more like I cannot believe that you carry that shaver everywhere. Scared of razors?"
"Everyone shaves."
"I don't."
Sunggyu's hands are warm against the back of his neck, nails cutting into his skin, fingers rubbing against the bumps of his spine.
"Oh really?"
Sunggyu face is too close, Woohyun thinks. Too fucking close and he is too much of a fucking tease and--
"See for yourself." Sunggyu hooks his index finger in the waistband of Woohyun's jeans and his eyes are dark and narrow and this is the Sunggyu only Woohyun knows. The leader who gets angry and selfish and takes and takes and doesn't know how to give back.
"Please," Woohyun says, meaning yes and no and all of the words in between.
∞
He's not quite sure when "hating Sunggyu" turned into "rutting against Sunggyu in bathroom stalls" and "waiting for Sunggyu after practice to walk home together," but Woohyun can't imagine making the trek alone anymore. It's been months since he's had to, and narrow streets and spotty lamplight doesn’t sound nearly as appealing any longer, not when the weight of tomorrow presses into his chest and makes it hard to breathe.
So he shuffles against the front of the cafe opposite Woolim's building and waits for Sunggyu to trudge outside, back sloping, stomach sort of caving in, hair in his eyes. From half a block away, Sunggyu could be anyone.
“Don’t you have something better to be doing?”
Woohyun shrugs. “I don’t need as much practice as you, clearly.”
Sunggyu tells him that nothing's fucking changed, that Sunggyu wants to sing, that if Woohyun wants to put on makeup and walk around without a shirt for a thousand flashing cameras, he should just quit. He doesn’t put on his headphones, though, and despite the angry rumble of nighttime in Seoul, Woohyun can make out the soft drumbeats of Nell’s Stay.
Heat rolls off of Sunggyu’s shoulders.
Sunggyu doesn’t turn off his iPod until they’ve both gotten home, toed off their shoes, and retreated into the room they share.
"I can sing as well as you can," Woohyun tries to say. Sunggyu's hand is sliding into his pants, though, calloused thumb flicking at the head of his cock so he's not all that sure that he’s achieving coherency.
"Not according to Tablo."
"What the fuck does he know."
"I heard. Today. He's going to help pick who stays--who gets to debut."
Oh, Woohyun thinks. Well then.
The bags underneath Sunggyu's eyes get deeper all the time, Woohyun thinks distractedly. A nail circles his right nipple, and fingers dig into the curve of his hip. He bites his lip and tries not to buck backwards into the wall dividing their room from the hall. Sungjong has been sneaking into the kitchen every night after midnight for snacks. He could hear. They could find out.
"Pay attention to me."
Woohyun closes his eyes. "Yes, hyung."
∞
On camera, Sunggyu never stops smiling. He thanks their teachers with perfect right-angle bows and shakes hands with the same palms he uses to jerk Woohyun off at night. There’s something horrifyingly blasé about that smile. It digs at Woohyun, seeps into the cracks in his makeup, and even Myungsoo needs to tell him to stop dozing off and fucking up.
“You should stop staring. They’ll find out.”
“You keep touching me, hyung.”
Sunggyu curls into Woohyun’s lap during practice, flits a hand across his wrist during interviews, and leans into Woohyun’s shoulders, palming the lengths of muscle he bruised the previous night, snapping Woohyun’s head backwards as he canted into him.
“It’s what they’ll expect.”
“They?”
“We’re debuting, you fuck. I told you that. The fans.”
Woohyun doesn’t actually think it’s fair that Sunggyu expects him to be taking notes while Sunggyu’s mouth is on his cock, but Sunggyu has always abdicated responsibility, shrugged off everything but the end result, the credit, the stars in Kim Jongwan’s eyes when he heard Sunggyu’s rendition of his music.
There’s something rattling in his ribcage, something totally separate from the twitching of his thighs, the burning below his navel, and the wet lips on the shaft of his cock.
Fans, he says or thinks or something in between and comes in Sunggyu’s mouth. He definitely screams, because Sunggyu’s hand shoots up to cover his face, and he can’t breathe properly for what feels like centuries.
“You taste like crap,” Sunggyu says later after Woohyun’s jerked him off, after Woohyun's snuck into the bathroom for a damp towel and cleaned both of them off. After they’re both lying in separate beds, after they’ve tidying up their dirty linens, in case tomorrow is the day they’ll wake up with cameras in their faces and their lives plastered around the internet.
“You didn’t have to swallow.”
“You bitch about it in your sleep. Don’t.”
Sunggyu knows everything.
“Yes, hyung.”
∞
a/n: the girl across an ocean who is willing to read anything i write before it gets posted is the most flawfree human being i have ever had the pleasure of knowing. thank you, reifica.