Infinite: Follow Suit
Title: Follow Suit
Fandom: Infinite
Genre: Gen
Pairings: Sunggyu/Hoya
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sunggyu has Hoya tied up in a chair. For this prompt.
Wordcount: 963
It’s a bad time to be playing this game. Sunggyu can barely keep his eyes open and they have to wake up in a couple of hours anyway, but Hoya had insisted. Sunggyu’s not the only one that Hoya does this with, and to be honest, he isn’t even the most skilled or the most exciting. But he’s the most reliable. He’d wrangled up the black scarf and the ropes from the laundromat. The smell of flowers and dandelions make a weird contrast for this tawdry activity but Hoya is sitting still and Sunggyu tries not to fumble too hard. He turns on the light. It makes a smooth clicking sound, and he walks around to the chair.
“Spread your legs,” he says, and nudges Hoya’s feet apart with a large baton he’d found lying in the corner. Sunggyu runs the edges of the baton up from the seam, starting at his ankles. Hoya looks straight ahead, still blinded. Sunggyu pauses the baton at the midpoint between his groin and his thigh to suppress a yawn. Hoya’s mouth twitches.
“You didn’t tie me tightly enough. Do the ropes again,” he says.
“Did I ask you to speak, Lee Howon?” Sunggyu asks, and digs the baton into his thigh. He can feel Hoya flexing, resisting the pressure.
“If you’re not going to do it right then don’t do it at all,” Hoya says.
“Did I ask you to speak?” Sunggyu pulls the baton away and paces in one full revolution around Hoya in the chair. The rhythm of his steps are even and slow. He waits for an answer.
“Hyung, don’t be like this. You don’t want to embarrass yourself further.” The nitpicking is irritating and incessant, but Sunggyu tolerates it because it is mostly harmless. He steps away and leans the stick back against the wall. Hoya is the master of this game, but Sunggyu has the novice’s unpredictability. He licks his index finger and traces the sharp curve of Hoya’s jawline.
“Why is your finger wet?” Hoya asks.
“Why do you think?”
“Don’t be a brat,” Hoya answers. “That’s gross.”
Sunggyu doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. “It’s come,” he says.
“Don’t lie,” Hoya says. He’s stone still, like a statue. Sunggyu can’t help but notice that Hoya is still, infuriatingly, in control.
“What should I do first?” he muses, and circles him.
“Stop walking around me,” Hoya says. “You’re getting too worked up.” Sunggyu pauses over a squeaky floorboard, drawing out its creak. Hoya’s throat works, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Sunggyu checks his bonds again. The ropes are thick and heavy, but not especially tight.
“Do you want me to bring ear plugs next time?”
“Why don’t you think about what you’re trying to do here?” Hoya says, and it’s his calm reasoning, not his sarcasm, that gets Sunggyu pacing again.
“I have my own way of doing things.” He can see Hoya chewing the inside of his mouth, a tiny dent in his cheek.
“You’re jumping the gun. Draw it out a little.”
“Not everybody wants a slow burn.”
“Try again. From the very beginning. Start with the ropes,” Hoya says patiently. And Sunggyu hates that. He hates being walked through this, step-by-step. Most of all, he hates himself for not being able to say no. Sunggyu punches the wall with his fist, watching for Hoya to flinch. He doesn’t. He retraces his steps, studying him. Hoya’s mouth is a thin line. He wets it once and says “That’s out of line.”
It’s not working. He can feel it; the mood is all wrong. He stares at Hoya. He has no fucking idea what to do. He’s too tired for this, and he’s already at the stage where he’s second-guessing himself. Hoya makes it so complicated sometimes, with his need for power roles and reversals and domination and his stupidly intricate games. And the most exasperating thing about Hoya is that he takes his games more seriously than being an idol.
“Hyung,” Hoya says. He knows that something’s up. He jiggles his leg.
“Stop.”
“What do you want? I can beg. I didn’t ask you to do this for me, you know. I did this for you.”
“That’s the most ridiculous line I’ve ever heard,” Sunggyu says, struggling between indignation and fatigue. He doesn’t know what to feel more offended by-the implication that Sunggyu gets off on begging, or that Hoya is actually trying to guilt trip him into continuing this farce. And Hoya would never beg; he is much too content to sit on his throne and wheedle and nag while Sunggyu wavers between losing his temper or his mind. Sunggyu hates this insidious, repulsive game-hates how he reaches for the blindfold, and yanks it off. He stops before untying the ropes.
“Get up. It’s over.”
“No it’s not,” Hoya says.
“Okay. You can stay there, but I’m out.” Hoya is still staring straight ahead. He doesn’t make a move to free himself. Sunggyu keeps the light on and shuts the door behind him.
Woohyun stirs when Sunggyu opens the door.
“That was quick,” he mutters. Sunggyu grunts and pulls the covers over his head.
The next morning, Sungjong is the one who wakes him up. A light touch on his shoulder, and that’s all it takes.
“Next time,” he says, “Don’t just leave him there.” When Sunggyu opens his door, Hoya is glaring at him. His throat is still dry from sleeping last night.
“I thought you said the ropes were too loose,” he said.
“I was lying.” Sunggyu blinks and rubs his eyes.
“Oh. Well then.”
Retribution doesn’t come immediately, but sometime during the night, Hoya slams Sunggyu against a wall, and everyone can hear him scream.
Fandom: Infinite
Genre: Gen
Pairings: Sunggyu/Hoya
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sunggyu has Hoya tied up in a chair. For this prompt.
Wordcount: 963
It’s a bad time to be playing this game. Sunggyu can barely keep his eyes open and they have to wake up in a couple of hours anyway, but Hoya had insisted. Sunggyu’s not the only one that Hoya does this with, and to be honest, he isn’t even the most skilled or the most exciting. But he’s the most reliable. He’d wrangled up the black scarf and the ropes from the laundromat. The smell of flowers and dandelions make a weird contrast for this tawdry activity but Hoya is sitting still and Sunggyu tries not to fumble too hard. He turns on the light. It makes a smooth clicking sound, and he walks around to the chair.
“Spread your legs,” he says, and nudges Hoya’s feet apart with a large baton he’d found lying in the corner. Sunggyu runs the edges of the baton up from the seam, starting at his ankles. Hoya looks straight ahead, still blinded. Sunggyu pauses the baton at the midpoint between his groin and his thigh to suppress a yawn. Hoya’s mouth twitches.
“You didn’t tie me tightly enough. Do the ropes again,” he says.
“Did I ask you to speak, Lee Howon?” Sunggyu asks, and digs the baton into his thigh. He can feel Hoya flexing, resisting the pressure.
“If you’re not going to do it right then don’t do it at all,” Hoya says.
“Did I ask you to speak?” Sunggyu pulls the baton away and paces in one full revolution around Hoya in the chair. The rhythm of his steps are even and slow. He waits for an answer.
“Hyung, don’t be like this. You don’t want to embarrass yourself further.” The nitpicking is irritating and incessant, but Sunggyu tolerates it because it is mostly harmless. He steps away and leans the stick back against the wall. Hoya is the master of this game, but Sunggyu has the novice’s unpredictability. He licks his index finger and traces the sharp curve of Hoya’s jawline.
“Why is your finger wet?” Hoya asks.
“Why do you think?”
“Don’t be a brat,” Hoya answers. “That’s gross.”
Sunggyu doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. “It’s come,” he says.
“Don’t lie,” Hoya says. He’s stone still, like a statue. Sunggyu can’t help but notice that Hoya is still, infuriatingly, in control.
“What should I do first?” he muses, and circles him.
“Stop walking around me,” Hoya says. “You’re getting too worked up.” Sunggyu pauses over a squeaky floorboard, drawing out its creak. Hoya’s throat works, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Sunggyu checks his bonds again. The ropes are thick and heavy, but not especially tight.
“Do you want me to bring ear plugs next time?”
“Why don’t you think about what you’re trying to do here?” Hoya says, and it’s his calm reasoning, not his sarcasm, that gets Sunggyu pacing again.
“I have my own way of doing things.” He can see Hoya chewing the inside of his mouth, a tiny dent in his cheek.
“You’re jumping the gun. Draw it out a little.”
“Not everybody wants a slow burn.”
“Try again. From the very beginning. Start with the ropes,” Hoya says patiently. And Sunggyu hates that. He hates being walked through this, step-by-step. Most of all, he hates himself for not being able to say no. Sunggyu punches the wall with his fist, watching for Hoya to flinch. He doesn’t. He retraces his steps, studying him. Hoya’s mouth is a thin line. He wets it once and says “That’s out of line.”
It’s not working. He can feel it; the mood is all wrong. He stares at Hoya. He has no fucking idea what to do. He’s too tired for this, and he’s already at the stage where he’s second-guessing himself. Hoya makes it so complicated sometimes, with his need for power roles and reversals and domination and his stupidly intricate games. And the most exasperating thing about Hoya is that he takes his games more seriously than being an idol.
“Hyung,” Hoya says. He knows that something’s up. He jiggles his leg.
“Stop.”
“What do you want? I can beg. I didn’t ask you to do this for me, you know. I did this for you.”
“That’s the most ridiculous line I’ve ever heard,” Sunggyu says, struggling between indignation and fatigue. He doesn’t know what to feel more offended by-the implication that Sunggyu gets off on begging, or that Hoya is actually trying to guilt trip him into continuing this farce. And Hoya would never beg; he is much too content to sit on his throne and wheedle and nag while Sunggyu wavers between losing his temper or his mind. Sunggyu hates this insidious, repulsive game-hates how he reaches for the blindfold, and yanks it off. He stops before untying the ropes.
“Get up. It’s over.”
“No it’s not,” Hoya says.
“Okay. You can stay there, but I’m out.” Hoya is still staring straight ahead. He doesn’t make a move to free himself. Sunggyu keeps the light on and shuts the door behind him.
Woohyun stirs when Sunggyu opens the door.
“That was quick,” he mutters. Sunggyu grunts and pulls the covers over his head.
The next morning, Sungjong is the one who wakes him up. A light touch on his shoulder, and that’s all it takes.
“Next time,” he says, “Don’t just leave him there.” When Sunggyu opens his door, Hoya is glaring at him. His throat is still dry from sleeping last night.
“I thought you said the ropes were too loose,” he said.
“I was lying.” Sunggyu blinks and rubs his eyes.
“Oh. Well then.”
Retribution doesn’t come immediately, but sometime during the night, Hoya slams Sunggyu against a wall, and everyone can hear him scream.