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Heeseung is a gentleman.
He is the very definition of it. He smiles at staff, buys them a round of coffee and water when a shoot goes on for too long. He asks his fans if they were comfortable during his stages, eyeing for new faces among the crowds. He bows to both his seniors and juniors. He volunteers. God, he even has the softest smile known to man. Teeth and all.
His fans often wonder what would make him break. People on the internet fantisize about him breaking character, using his teeth to leave a mark. Have his way with anyone who annoys him. They imagine him gripping wrists against sheets and ripping clothes off skin. Whenever he smiles at crowds, they swoon at the thought of any hint of his anger.
But still, Heeseung is a gentleman. No matter how close he seems to break that carefully curated character, he always manages to pull back. Bites his tongue and smiles. Grips his fists and waves. His fans claw at walls at the thought of getting shouted at, and other idols want to see his fall from grace.
The closest thing to make him break? His fellow artist.
Jake is… something. Snobby to his colleagues, snarky to his manager. He is nice enough towards staff, but people often disregard it as basic human decency. Jake pouts at his fans, whines about how they don't interact enough with him during his solo fansigns—even if he's the only one they have their attention on. He's always puppy eyes and complaints. Pouty lips and all.
Heeseung has had enough interactions with Jake when the younger one was just a rookie. It was safe to say that he couldn't stand him.
Their first meeting was full of sarcastic remarks and consistent eye rolling. Jake's manager had asked for Heeseung to film a short dancing video with the younger idol after that week's music show recording. Heeseung, being the absolute sweetheart that he is, agreed without hesitation and even suggested they do a few challenges together.
They could not get through a single challenge without Jake's whining.
"Ugh! I look terrible!" Heeseung would furrow his brows, seeing nothing wrong with Jake's appearance in the video.
"I need a retouch, let's re-record!" Heeseung would watch Jake's staff scurry to reapply his makeup, retouching literally nothing but air at how much he had on.
"Ah, hyunggg! You blocked my viewww!" Heeseung was staring at how Jake whined at him. Watched how Jake stomped the ground like a brat, crossed his arms and pouted. It was their thirteenth take of a single dance challenge, and he was just watching Jake act spoiled as if he could hand him what he wanted.
Honestly, why was Heeseung even letting him retake these videos at all? Jake was his junior. Sure—the younger idol only debuted a year after him, but that still makes him a senior. Heeseung should exert his authority over him as gently as possible. Just get the dance challenge over with in one go then leave. Maybe even tell Jake's manager never to contact him again.
Or he could put him in his place. Grab the brat's wrist and show him what it'd look like if his makeup was actually messed up. He could have. He wanted to. When he stared at how Jake fixed the camera's angle for their fourteenth take, he wanted nothing more than to snake his arms around that tiny waist. Maybe even squeeze all the whines out of that small body of his.
God, Heeseung was a gentleman… until he met Jake. He got off at the memory of his whines that same night.
It's a miracle that Heeseung even survived his interactions with Jake after that. They somehow always managed to schedule their album releases around the same time. They always meet. Always backstage, with a camera ready from either team to film dance challenges. Their respective fandoms call it destiny, like some red string threaded the two together. Jake pouts. Heeseung struggles.
There's posts about it. Analysis threads. Fans zoom in on every video and fansite picture they have together. They're all invested on the two idols' personal lives together. They all want to know how they intertwine with each other, want to know if the gentleman folds for the brat. Desperate to see if the image finally breaks.
Heeseung wants to shut it down. He wants to tell everyone that Jake is just his junior who he somehow matches schedules with. He wants to convince himself he doesn't want to do anything to his junior whose pouts and complaints send blood rushing southwards. He groans when his fans ask him for updates on Jake through his lives and fansigns. They grin when they see him frustrated.
His management is a fucking nightmare too. They feed into the delusions. Schedules a magazine shoot featuring him and Jake with an exclusive interview where the two idols could further feed the rumors. It's all publicity, his manager mentions in passing. It's his deathbed, Heeseung thinks. He doesn't think he'll survive being near Jake anymore—not without getting hard at the sound of his whines.
Heeseung shakes his head. It's not something to think about when he is in the middle of the exact photoshoot he's been dreading.
The view in front of him is quite the sight, actually. He's staring at Jake, the younger idol's legs splayed on a bed of flowers. Red roses and red carnations. They're spread across his knees. It complements his tan skin and the light mist sprayed on his neck. Contrasts the white and red jacket hanging off his shoulder and the baggy shorts hiding his thighs.
Heeseung licks his lips and taps his foot against the tiled floor. It feels hot. He knows its hot, he can feel himself start to sweat. One of the staff members even hands him a handheld fan to help. He thanks them—of course he does, he's a gentleman—but it's so absentminded that the other workers begin their whispers. Because it doesn't make sense. The airconditioning is on full-blast, and Heeseung is sweating.
The photographer is praising Jake for his allure. It's warranted, especially with how he arches his back to lay his head on the rose buds. He smiles at the camera, but his eyes look elsewhere. It runs past the petals and he locks his gaze onto Heeseung.
Heeseung, against his better judgement, keeps them locked onto each other. His fingers twitch at his side. His breath hitches. His eyes look down on the younger idol, the studio lights casting a shadow on his face. He feels his entire chest constrict when Jake chuckles and breaks eye contact to look back at the camera.
"Fuck," Heeseung mutters, bringing a hand up to his face. He needs to leave.
He excuses himself to his manager, mentioning that he feels a bit feverish in response to the other staff members' concerns. He maneuvers his way through the large wires snaking around the floors and the makeup artists that ask where he's going. He keeps his mouth shut, his teeth grinding against each other with every step. Sweat is already dripping from his neck. God, if he doesn't get away from Jake soon, he'll make it everyone's problem.
He finally pushes the door to his dressing room, stumbling to get inside and shut the door. He runs a hand through his carefully styled hair. He's alone, and he's far from Jake. Heeseung finally breathes.
The lights are dim. There's no one with him in the room. Everyone is busy in the studio attending to the actual photoshoot. Instead of turning the lights back on, Heeseung grabs a water bottle off his vanity and downs it like a man in a desert. It even gets stuck in his throat. The coughs that follow echo off the walls.
What was even going on with him? He isn't like this. Lee Heeseung isn't some desperate man looking for a quick fuck. He is a gentleman with morals and strict virtues, his whole image banking on the fact that he'll never break. His fans may beg for a sliver of irritation and his management can make him do as many dark concepts as they want, his identity remains rooted in the fact that he wouldn't lay his hands on anyone.
Heeseung's breath trembles as he finally sits on the couch. He runs a hand through his hair again. And all he could think of is how pretty Jake would look drooling on the carnations and rutting against the roses.
"God, fuck, please help me," he begs as he closes his eyes. "Send me some relief."
A knock is heard on the other side of the door. Heeseung looks up. In his head, he's on his knees begging that it's his manager with lunch and a happy announcement that the partner section of the photoshoot is cancelled.
His entire body freezes up when the door opens. He sees the familiar head of soft brown hair. There is that sight of sharp features accented by plump lips shaded a soft red. It's a shade so enticing as Heeseung stares, the image of losing himself against them invades his mind. His breath hitches when those same lips slowly form that dreaded pout.
"Ugh! Heeseung-hyung!"
Jake walks towards him, a little stomp in his step. There are petals and leaves falling from his hair as he takes each step. Little reds and complementing greens decorate the path he etches into the tile, or so that's what it looks like to Heeseung. He feels like he's going to implode, spill his guts all over the couch if Jake gets any closer.
Much to his dismay, Jake stops right in front of him and crosses his arms.
"I'm hungry," he states. He doesn't move. Only looms over Heeseung with a scrunched nose and pouty lips.
"I— uhm… The studio should be on break right now," Heeseung answers. He tries to avoid eye contact with Jake, looking past him to stare at the door. He needs to leave.
"So?" Jake says—less of a question, more of a challenge—then he presses a finger to Heeseung's shoulder, "I meant I wanna eat with you."
Heeseung's body goes rigid. He feels Jake's finger on his shoulder. It stings a little, like the touch compares to lightning. It sends a sensation through his spine, makes him sit up and actually look at Jake and process what he just said.
When he looks up at Jake, he sees it. That pout. Plump lips asking to be kissed, to be bit and sucked on. Heeseung swallows the spit gathering in his mouth.
"I'm not— I'm not that hungry," he says, voice soft, "I don't feel that well, anyway."
Jake's brows furrow. He flinches his hand away from Heeseung, placing it on his hip. He scoffs then turns. Walks away from Heeseung to go fix his makeup in front of the well-lit vanity. He looks offended.
He takes an eyeliner pen from the messy arrangement of makeup materials on the vanity. A sign of rushed work and attention. Jake takes off the cap and fixes the smudged look on his eyes. He takes it slow, deliberate. Then, he makes eye contact with Heeseung through the mirror after he finishes.
"Hyung," Jake calls. Heeseung hums as a response.
Jake eyes him through the mirror. He doesn't turn around to look at him. He doesn't think Heeseung could hold eye contact with him without a barrier. It's funny to him, just how much he seems like an afterthought to Heeseung until he actually manages to lock eyes with him. Heeseung always looks like he wants to do something, a heavy weight always bothering him at the back of his mind.
And Jake is ever the curious boy, so he pushes.
"You ran away a while ago," Jake says.
Heeseung cocks a brow. Jake sees it through the mirror. The older idol responds, voice soft, "I told you, I don't feel well."
Jake pouts again. "Was it because of me?"
Yes.
"No," Heeseung says. His voice cracks. Imperceptible, but it's there. That's when Jake turns around. He faces Heeseung, a hand on his hip and his face etched with annoyance. He huffs. Heeseung watches Jake cycle through his thoughts as his face changes expressions every moment. It was like Jake came with subtitles, like he was making it known that he doesn't believe him.
Jake walks towards him. Heeseung's breath catches in his throat as the couch dips next to him. The smell of makeup and hairspray is accompanied by a hint of strawberries in the air. It hugs him like a vice, the scent dampening his other senses. Heeseung grips the water bottle in his hand. A futile attempt to keep himself sane, but at least he's trying.
"It's definitely about me," Jake says, his voice pitching to a whine. The statement feels like a fact. Like it was just another Tuesday. Heeseung makes the mistake of looking at him after he says it.
His eyes catch Jake's. His gaze catches the glint in them. The air feels hotter now, even as the airconditioning is on full-blast in their dressing room. Jake's eyes were like two fiery stars, daring Heeseung to look so deep into them that he would blind himself with desire. A desire that lingers, the same one that claws at Heeseung's ribcage when they shared schedules.
"It's not like that," Heeseung says. He tries to be assertive, to stand his ground with his lie, but his eyes drift to Jake's lips. Plump and red. Still pouting, still driving Heeseung to the edge. He manages to continue, "Y-you were perfect out there."
Jake smiles. He leans in, his thigh pressing softly against Heeseung's. The smell of strawberries becomes a stronger fog that invades their space. Heeseung realizes it's Jake's shampoo, and his mind wanders to the countless situations where his own hands could smell like that. Everything feels like a live wire. A single move could send a life-ending shock into Heeseung.
"Perfect?" Jake repeats. "Then why didn't you give in?"
Heeseung doesn't move at first. His hand curls around the water bottle like a lifeline, the sound of the plastic crinkling fills the silence that follows. The words take a moment to register in his mind. Give in. Give in to what? And why in the world would Heeseung give in when he was doing so well with keeping his image?
He breathes. Something in him cracks.
"Give in to what, Jaeyun?" Heeseung asks. His voice emphasizes Jake's name, says it with such care and weight that it dwarfs the fog in his mind. He asks it innocently enough, but the question sends a flutter through Jake. A flutter the younger idol gladly gives into.
Jake doesn't flinch. His breath is nice and even as he leans in a bit closer to Heeseung. He can feel the older idol's breath mingle with his own. Like two temperatures mixing and creating forces pushing against each other. There's that curious and demanding glint in his eyes that dare Heeseung to look further into him. It asks for the crack to split Heeseung's skin apart with the smell of Jake's morning shower lingering in his hair.
"You know exactly what, hyung," Jake teases. His gaze flickers down to Heeseung's parted lips, watching his staggering breaths. "You always looks so annoyed, like you're just putting up with me. And don't deny it, I see how you act around other people."
Heeseung's jaw sets. His teeth are grinding against each other as he plasters his mouth shut. His knuckles are white as the water bottle starts to give in to his grip. Veins prominent, breath trembling, the itch deep within his chest keeps clawing at him.
Jake frowns. He continues, his voice dripping with sweet sugary temptation, "Come on, just this once, please? I'm asking nicely."
Heeseung has to breath. He has to get away. He breathes in deeply through his mouth, shakes his head, and creates the distance. The couch is small, but it's enough to put up the imaginary wall between them. He has to keep his image safe, even from the object of all his desires. Jake could whine and stomp his feet, Heeseung makes sure he'll never reach too deep.
"Look, Jaeyun, I appreciate your interest in me." Heeseung looks away. His gaze rests on a flower petal that made it into the dressing room floor. It was by the door. Red and frilly, like a piece of flesh. It belonged to a carnation, probably stuck to Jake when he left the studio. Heeseung says, "I just— We aren't what you think we are to each other."
Jake pouts. Heeseung doesn't see it this time.
But, good God, he hears the next thing Jake says. Or mutters. It's a small comment, so miniscule that it shouldn't affect Heeseung the way it does.
He mutters under his breath, "Whatever. You're so boring, hyung."
The word hangs in the air. It stings like a needle injecting some substance into an artery, directly into the bloodstream. It reaches Heeseung like that. Straight to his beating heart that was clawing his ribcage like an animal. It's the one thing you wouldn't call a man who was holding down an internal storm with the effort of a thousand.
Boring. Was that seriously what Jake wanted to call him?
The water bottle in his hand gives way. With a sharp, violent crack, the plastic buckles and snaps under the sudden pressure of his grip. Water spills over his knuckles, cold and biting. It overcomes the heat in his palm, but it's not enough to relieve the thirst that overwhelms his throat. He drops the bottle onto the floor, the sound echoing off the walls like a gunshot that lands straight into Jake's ears.
Heeseung turns his head. Slowly.
Jake makes eye contact with him. Then, he realizes who he's looking at. The innocent glint in Heeseung's eyes is dim. Heeseung's gaze looks cold and calculating, like he was memorizing Jake's every detail. The one thing keeping Jake safe from whatever was underneath Heeseung is gone.
"Boring?" Heeseung repeats. His voice drops, the octave a stark contrast from the soft melody he uses to speak on stage. It dares Jake to keep pushing, and—for once—Jake doesn't. "Then why do you keep begging for my attention?"
Jake only realizes his mistake when Heeseung stands. The shadow that looms over Jake is one that makes his mind snap. He scrambles to explain, voice stammering, "I-I meant that you always play it safe! You're always so… careful. It's annoying!"
His eyes are darting to look at anything that wasn't Heeseung. The overhead lights were out ever since he came in, and the vanity lights cast a shadow on Heeseung's face that make him look terrifying. He tries to look at the crushed water bottle on the floor. The snacks laid on the coffee table in front of the couch. The light switch. The walls. Anything but Heeseung.
Heeseung's hand touches the hair on his nape. Jake's breath hitches, but he's still not looking at him. It's only when Heeseung's other hand grabs his chin and adjusts his gaze do their eyes meet. Jake finally sees what lays behind the image that Heeseung so carefully protected. Dark, dilated, and fixated eyes staring directly at him.
And Jake finally understands what he was pushing into. Heeseung may be a gentleman, but he couldn't keep that up anymore.
"I hate to say this, Jaeyun," Heeseung says. The name feels so cold, it sends a shiver into Jake's spine and stops right where Heeseung's fingers are running into his hair. "There's nothing safe about what I do when I'm around you. You think it's easy standing around you when all I want to do is put you in your place?"
Heeseung leans down, and Jake follows. His back is against the couch's arm. He could push and thrash, but Heeseung would hold him still. He knows perfectly well that he couldn't escape even if he wants to. It's a good thing he doesn't.
"I-I'm… I didn't mean it like that," Jake says. Voice smaller than ever before. The vibrato in his whines turns into a weak, trembling trill as he looks at Heeseung. Puppy eyes begging to be let off the hook.
"But you did," Heeseung counters. His thumb moves to the center of Jake's plump lips, presses to reveal the soft, slick flesh inside. "Come on, don't do hyung like that. No take-backs, okay?"
Heeseung's voice is soft and coaxing. He doesn't belittle Jake for trying, but he sure is having the time of his life seeing him squirm. He knows he's giving in, and he knows Jake could hold it against him if ever they were to get into a scandal, but he couldn't give less of a shit. When the person who fills him with adrenaline is underneath him, Heeseung won't let go.
Jake nods, hands flying to hold Heeseung's wrist. He's trying to anchor himself to something tangible. He needs to be reminded that he pushed Heeseung far enough to give him exactly what he wants.
"Go on," Heeseung says. "Whine for hyung like you always do."
Jake's breath is shallow and jagged. It doesn't help to calm the loud thrumming of his heart, the beat filling his ears like a loud drum. He looks up at Heeseung, his vision blurring with the warmth of the vanity lights and the face of the man he had been agonizing for the past year.
His voice is small. The very thing that sends Heeseung into a frenzy is so small that the sound is almost silence. But, Heeseung hears it. Like a freight train hitting into him and leaving his ribcage broken. Jake whimpers, "Please, hyung."
Heeseung doesn't move immediately. He lets the sound linger—savors it. The thumb on Jake's lower lip drags downwards, a light pressure parting the muscle like a slow reminder. He wants the words to seep deep into Jake. Just like how he was going to.
"Please what?" Heeseung whispers as he leans down. His voice is a ghost against Jake's trembling breath and shaking eyes, like an energy the younger idol never expected to get so close to. Jake's hold on Heeseung's wrist tightens in turn. "Use your words."
Jake whines. His cheeks are dusted red and his stomach is swirling with so many emotions that he doesn't know he's squirming against Heeseung. His breath is jagged and the sounds under his breath only make Heeseung tighten his grip on his hair.
And that's all it takes. Fingers holding the back of his head, bringing his squirming to a firm stop. Jake scrambles to speak, "Need you— please? Please, hyung? I'll be g-good… I won't complain anymore. Just please—"
Heeseung grips Jake's head and yanks it upwards. Their lips meet in a collision of teeth and that soft red lipstick that drove Heeseung up the wall. It knocks the last bit of air in Jake's lungs, makes him whimper into Heeseung's mouth. Makes him let go of Heeseung's wrist to grip the fabric of his jacket. The kiss is a messy, desperate thing—the single breaking point of Heeseung's perfect walls.
Jake's hands are aching to grasp at anything, frantic as they bunch up the fabric of Heeseung's jacket to pull him closer. He's chasing the heat and friction, chasing the feeling of his tongue tangling with Heeseung's like it was an oasis. He tastes the want in Heeseung's mouth. It tastes like honey dripping over Jake's sweet strawberry scent.
Heeseung groans, the sound distorted as he pushes the kiss deeper. He presses his weight against Jake as he pins him to the couch. The hand that used to be on Jake's jaw is gripping his waist with a feverish hold. He shifts his weight to hold Jake down against the cushions. The heat between the two idols makes the vanity lights seem cold even with their warm glow.
He breaks the kiss just for a second, their breaths mingling as they pant against each other. Jake whines again, hands gripping the fabric to bring them back together. Heeseung has enough restraint to resist the pull. He stops right as his top lip lightly touches Jake's.
"Be good, Jaeyun," he warns. "Stay still for hyung."
Jake is about to whine before Heeseung pinches his waist. He yelps. The soothing rubs that Heeseung makes don't help to relieve the sting, but it makes Jake shut up long enough for him to move.
Heeseung lowers his head, his nose dragging along the length of Jake's jaw before he stops above his pulse. He presses a kiss that makes Jake moan. The sound echoes and feeds straight into Heeseung's nerves. It sends signals into his spine and makes him desperate to hear more of it. So, with teeth grazing against the misted skin, he bites.
"Nghh, ah, h-hyung!" Jake's hand almost flies to his mouth to muffle the moans that escape, but Heeseung catches his wrist and grips.
He sucks and bites that spot. Tongue tasting salt and misted water on supple skin. It's a taste that Heeseung wants to get used to, wants to memorize and commit to memory. Heeseung moves like a man without water as he moves his lips again to nip at Jake's exposed collarbone. He smiles as he coaxes another moan out of Jake.
"H-hyung, it— no marks, pl-please," Jake whimpers. Heeseung doesn't listen as he leaves more behind, Jake makes no move to stop him. "Ah— a-ahh… Hyu-ng, please."
Jake's head falls back and his fingers tangle into Heeseung's hair. The moans that follow only feed into their movements like a loop with no escape. Heeseung bites and marks along Jake's shoulder, kissing the skin with his tongue.
He groans when he feels Jake arch his back to press their chests against each other. He pulls back to see Jake panting, eyes blown and pupils dilated like a desperate puppy. The small marks littered all over Jake's skin look like a constellation of Heeseung's making. All marks like a map leading back to Heeseung and his teeth. A laugh escapes his lips, one that makes Jake cock a brow.
"Cute," Heeseung says as he leans back down to hover over Jake's lips. "You look like a mess, Jaeyun."
"'Am not!" Jake manages to shout, even as his hair is pointing in all sorts of directions and his lipstick is smudged. Heeseung laughs again when Jake pouts even as he continues to pant from all the stimulation. He hums, the sound buzzing against Jake's lips. He presses a soft kiss before he pulls back again.
"You are," he insists. Then, he lowers a hand to Jake's thigh to squeeze it through the fabric of his shorts. "My mess, hm?"
Jake's heart thrums in his chest. The low hum of Heeseung's voice is enough to keep his chest filled with fluttering nonsense urging him to ask for more. When he looks at Heeseung now, those same sharp eyes looking back at him with a heated fixation, he knows he broke down whatever walls were there. Now, he just has to deal with the debris.
"Fix it, hyung," Jake breathes out, a half-hearted attempt at his usual snark, but it lacks any real bite. He looks towards the vanity mirror and sees the mess of fresh reds and blooming purples on his skin. "The staff are gonna start a rumor."
Heeseung's grip on Jake's thigh tightens for a moment, then loosens as he pulls away. He stands, towering over the couch, and reaches to fix a stray strand of hair that falls on Jake's face. His fingers are gentle, the movement is a haunting transition back into his image. He replies, a smile accompanying his words, "Let them wonder."
Jake eyes him as he turns towards the door of the dressing room. He sees Heeseung fix his jacket, looking perfectly composed as if he wasn't leaving trails of marks on Jake moments before. Then, he watches him walk towards the door and pause as his hand touches the knob.
Heeseung looks back at Jake still sprawled on the couch and catching his breath. He smiles back as he watches Jake's chest rise and fall with every breath, knowing full well that he probably took all the air with him. There's that pout again as Jake whines for Heeseung to come back.
"Clean up, let's grab that lunch you wanted before the shoot starts up again," Heeseung says, voice polite and playful.
Jake's breath hitches. His ears perk up at the notion, feels a spike of heat over his back at the invitation. It would mean more of Heeseung's time, more of his attention, all to himself. He scrambles to get off the couch and grab the concealer off the nearest vanity. Heeseung chuckles as he watches him suddenly follow orders.
He doesn't wait for Jake to finish—he can't. He knows staying near Jake would make them spend the entire afternoon in that dressing room doing things only between them. It's an enticing thought, one he wants to bite at, but he's a professional. So, he steps outside.
And as soon as he does, with the door clicking shut behind him with the muffle of Jake's voice, his perfect image doesn't snap back quite the same way it used to. The gentleman in him stepped back at the taste of Jake's whines and whimpers. That's when Heeseung knew that there was no way back as long as he kept Jake by his side.
As if he'll ever let him go, that is.