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“Ah, ah hyung.” The breathy pants spill from Chan’s lips. Pretty and soaring high lost in ecstasy. Impossible to say if he’s pleading or warning. By the shaky clutch of his hands digging into Wonwoo’s shoulders, Wonwoo thinks it might just be simple, mindless, fucked out mumblings of desperation.
Golden and shimmering hair spilled like a broken halo on the pillow Chan’s the sight that eyes yearn for in their last moment. The nightstand light breaks the shadows on him and Wonwoo watches him screw his face in pleasure-ridden pain.
It’s mean, but Wonwoo’s hands grip his hips for purchase, fingers bruising the soft flesh until he’s pushing in harder making Chan beg: “Please—plhh—ease, more, Ahhgg! ”
Wonwoo feels his cock leaking when Chan meets his thrusts; how he’s making space inside Chan, pulsing around the silky heat. Mewls and pleas strung between blabbering demands spur on the roll of his hips when he grinds inside to the hilt and forces a tear out of Chan’s eye. His cock is all red, aching, and neglected because he knows how to behave, even if it hurts.
Wonwoo’s trapped in a similar ecstasy of pain so he angles his thrusts a little more precise fucking inside all slow but purposeful against the sensitive gland. His balls are tight, pleasure near pulling at his core and he bites his lip to stop himself from slamming inside the sensitive hole until all comes leaking around his cock.
But just a little.
He delays it. It’s sweeter then. “Please—ah—please use me, faster hyung please just just a littleahh—”
Fuck, he’s so good. Knees at his chest and tears the size of stars in his eyes, but the most he will do is beg and take what he’s given. He spreads a little wider, giving Wonwoo more space, and it’s a wet and vulgar squelch when Wonwoo fucks inside, cockhead aiming right for his prostate. “Angghhh—ah.” Chan’s mouth slacks with a mewl. It sends a jolt to Wonwoo’s cock. He is a sin. In the lamplight, the drool that coats his lips is like caramel.
And Wonwoo’s weak. His aching cock is weak, pulsing in the velvet heat of a tight hole.
He leans down with his tongue poking the parted lips and it’s not really a kiss but just possessiveness manifested by how dirty he licks him. Plush soft lips surrendered and the wet mouth minty and slack for Wonwoo to take. He kisses Chan without fitness. It;s sloppy and needy like his pistoning thrusts. Wonwoo hears him inside his skull. When he licks his lips and kisses Chan’s tongue the pleas between the shallow moans so pretty and delicate that he has to hold him harder. His fingers dimple the skin as he maneuvers Chan’s hips into a grinding circle. “Fuck—more, ah please fuck my pussy.” Almost incoherent making Wonwoo smirk.
He snaps his hips up hard with purpose and it’s a thrust into welcoming red heat breaking a grating groan from his throat. He’s so close. Fuck he is so close. Wonwoo guides his hips up again and almost screams.
It’s a sudden shower of tearing and cold pain instead of the chased hot release.
The saliva in his throat dries with the sobering snap that clamps his knee frozen mid-thrust.
***
“Hyung, ask Wonwoo where he was last night.” It’s the first thing Jihoon says when Seungcheol steps foot into the practice room. Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek and watches Chan’s nape turn pink.
“Why? Where were you last night?” Seungcheol asks with this thick layer of suspicion in his voice like he’s bracing himself for bad news and it’s falling into a tripwire trap that announces itself with a chorus of shrill laughter.
“What happened?” His thick eyebrows furrow at the scene. Annoyed, or worried, he stands a few strides far off with arms crossed.
“Chan broke his dick,” Mingyu mumbles through a snicker.
“Hey!” Chan yelps from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. “That’s not what happened!” Wonwoo soothes his back. Seungcheol rolls his eyes with instant regret of having even asked.
“I—,” Wonwoo starts.
Seungcheol raises a hand, “Please spare me.”
Fine.
Wonwoo clamps his mouth shut and Chan looks up at him with the biggest pleading, apologetic eyes clouded with remorse. “I just injured my hamstring that’s all.” Regardless of Seungcheol’s request, Wonwoo speaks, “The doctor said to take it easy with the practice but—”
“Will you be alright? Any other injuries? Do you need physio?”
“No, no, just some… stretching.” He tries a gentle smile with Chan. “I will be fine.”
No one knows how to be grown up about it. Suddenly they’ve regressed into that bunch of rowdy, snide teenagers. Jokes just turn more obscure where you can hardly tell what anyone is trying to say but you know it’s annoying because it’s all spoken in the tone of a clever innuendo. Wonwoo suffers insistent teasing that day, catching the worst of it before the practice even starts when he tries but fails to crouch without wincing. He doesn’t roll his eyes or bite back, in truth, he’d likely be cracking jokes had one of them showed up in the same disgraced state. But… it wounds Chan.
His smile is wobbly and painfully put on and it slips whenever he thinks that Wonwoo can’t see him.
“Do you want me to help you with the choreo?” Chan offers at the end of the day as Wonwoo throws an arm around him, leading them out of the practice room. They’re done for the day, and Wonwoo’s been done for the good past two hours since all movement started to feel like threading through jello.
He flashes Chan a grateful smile, “Yes, thank you. Let’s do it tomorrow.”
There’s the slightest limp in his step yet he lies openly—he’s fine, it’s not a serious injury. Partially true. The injury isn’t severe. Ct scans turned up clear, and sure there is swelling but nothing worth ringing the alarm bells, though it’s… extremely uncomfortable. The only breath taken without striking tightness in his muscles is the one at night when he sinks into the mattress with the leg propped up and an ice pack wrapped around it. It’s a small protruded hematoma on his leg that has a life of its own. He presses on it subconsciously and it always responds back with a pulse of pain.
He’s mobile. Just… slower.
Chan helps though. He’s Wonwoo’s syrupy sweet treatment that no doctor prescribed yet he inhibits pain. Though he feels it, even the way Chan fits his hand into Wonwoo’s is ridden with apology.
But Chan stops lamenting over the past, and instead, he funnels all that energy into smiles and assisting Wonwoo with the choreography. Thankfully , little of it is new. It’s for the concerts, they’ve performed the likes of Left & Right enough times that yes, Wonwoo does remember it. It’s just that Chan is more skillful in taking care of a dancer's body.
In turn, it really does turn out to be a lot of stretching.
“Tired?” Chan asks, wiping sweat off his brow.
“I’m okay, really, it’s the best I have felt in days.”
“Oh,” Chan smiles, “good.”
Plus, it’s not like suddenly he’s been rendered helpless and his body broken. Even at peak health, Wonwoo struggled with flexibility. His toes, unlike apparently the ones of most people just seemed to be way farther, no way that he could reach them. It’s a pinching embarrassment demonstrating his inflexibility.
He sighs, putting the weight of his body on his good leg, and sets his eyes on Chan, already down in a squat with one leg stretched far out.
So easy.
“I can’t do that.”
“What?” Chan looks up from where is on the floor. “Really?”
Wonwoo gives a tiny shake in a mute reply.
If he puts his arms out in front to mimic Chan he might tip over.
“Let me help.” Quick, Chan’s circling him before Wonwoo has even sunk his teeth in the decided surrender. Wonwoo wouldn’t dare argue with him and the gentle helping hands. Slow, slow, slow. Chan leads, feather-light and eyes fixed on the mirror as Wonwoo goes down.
Arms awkwardly drawn close Wonwoo finds the center of his gravity and all hesitation he bends in one knee. It’s not comfortable. Inflamed muscle creaks and he pushes air out of his lungs because the stretch at the back of his knee is a little too much. Instead of being the one to take him down Chan’s locked grip turns out to be the thing keeping him up when he manages to extend the weak leg. Tight and pulsing, he sees flashes of red. “You’re doing so well,” Chan hums. It’s when he tries to pop out his injured leg to match Chan that it cramps and he winces, hard, biting his lip down and giving up.
“Hey, hey,” Chan’s taking him up to stand on his feet before Wonwoo even knows it, “Hyung, you don’t have to—”
“No, I do. Really, it’s okay. I can’t continue being afraid to put a little weight on my leg just because I’m scared that it won’t handle it.” Before he’s even done speaking he braces his knees for a retry. Slow and steady. He takes a breath and feels his hands bear up his hips. Scorching and small Chan stands behind him and his exhale isn’t pained.
He doesn’t go down smoothly. Nor does he accurately extend the leg. But he doesn’t stumble and it’s warm when he comes up and safely rests his back against Chan’s chest.
Things move slowly, but it's towards improvement, and it’s easier when Chan’s hands hug his hips and his thumb rubs reassurance into the hip bone. Two weeks and it all crawls back to some version of normal.
Well… almost all.
They don’t really have sex.
Initially, it even hurts when Wonwoo cups his cock and tries to jack off. A stretch in the tendons of his leg and he feels the muscle tremble like a string wound tight. And Chan’s apprehensive which clashes terribly with his nature. Needy and sweet that crushes Wonwoo’s heart into jagged shards. They stagger to two weeks without the familiar proximity and… Wonwoo might be fucking losing it.
The practice room is empty and clean. There are dozens of water bottles in the corner and they’ve turned the music off. Just between them, Wonwoo takes to the comfortable, familiar silence that lasts until one remembers something and spirals them out of focused practice into a conversation.
Chan pulls up his tank top to wipe the sweat kissing his neck and when Wonwoo spies his peeking happy trail his cock fucking jumps at the sight. A wave of cool fire washes over him and manifests as the red in his cheeks. He misses him. He kisses him like that. All devouring and pent up.
And Chan is… horrible. He’s a dream. He takes Wonwoo’s hands to his ass and he kisses open and wet letting his tongue free glide across Wonwoo’s until Wonwoo whimpering to be touched.
Fuck, Chan does it with purpose, batting the gentle eyelashes at him as he slips away for a bottle of water and puts his lips to it wet, soft, and gently wrapped around the neck letting his eyes close with a hum as he drinks and Wonwoo’s Adam's apple bobs with his, pictures of vulgar images drying out his mouth.
It’s torturous.
It aids not Wonwoo’s already failing body. Medication is standard but he detests that he has to continue taking it. He grows more frustrated, more pent up. Everything’s slow and gradual with the recovery. It must be the signs of age that he’s angry with because a few years ago he would have bounced back without a hitch.
He falters off balance during the Anyone choreography and curses loudly.
“Someone’s pent up.” One of them jokes, none the wise of how right they are.
Annoying.
When Chan asks to hang back and go over steps together, Wonwoo has his decision made for him.
“Let me help you.” He says with a sugary smile all sweet around the corners of his mouth. Chan’s strong hands on his hips and his core pressing firmly into Wonwoo’s back. “Hyung’s so tired aren’t you?” Sweetly he says flushing his crotch with Wonwoo’s ass as they drop lower together and Wonwoo’s voice dies in his throat.
“Let me take care of you,” Chan whispers against his earlobe. It kicks Wonwoo’s air out. Chan’s holding him for balance and he is hanging low on the floor, both of them, lower than Wonwoo can endure. Hot and painful his leg screams to rest.
It’s between a strained groan and a desperate moan that he mewls out feeling Chan’s hot gruin poke into his backside. “Hyung’s been working so hard,” Chan hums in a low voice like he’s been keeping all of this a secret just for Wonwoo.
“You’ve been in so much pain and it’s all my fault.” Wonwoo’s muscle ache stretched out making his breaths shallow. He wants to oppose Chan, but mouth dry and nearly panting like a dog he shallows waiting for a treat.
Chan hums, “I haven’t even properly apologized to you,” and slides the tip of his tongue along Wonwoo’s earlobe sending fiery shivers down his spine. Chan’s hand slides roughly from his hip to his crotch and Wonwoo moans when the hand cups his cock. Just holding him, lightly caressing the hard shaft. “Can I help you hyung, please?” Chan’s pleading in his ear, wet lips pressing into the jawline under Wonwoo’s ear as Chan kisses the soft skin making Wonwoo moan and nod.
“Yes, yes, Channie.” He doesn’t know how he really goes down. His knees buck and for a second all arousal leaves his brain replaced by the fear that the creaking joint might lock but instead, it’s a hot release of tense muscle that relaxes as he sits on the polished floor.
Chan sneaks around him to come up to the front, and the sight cuts his airways. Pupils all blown out, fringe stuck to his forehead, and his pink tongue poking out his lips. Fuck, Wonwoo needs him. Curses die on his tongue strangled by the thought of how Chan looks like a man worth getting injured over.
Chan’s body rolls over Wonwoo’s expertly where he just… hovers slotted right above him and straddles Wonwoo’s good leg using his hands to bring Wonwoo closer, Wonwoo’s mouth. The floors are clean and slick and Wonwoo puts all faith in it when he props up on his elbows to plant quick kisses on Chan’s chin and lips. His tight slotted comfortably between Chan’s legs, he reads it as what it is—an open invite and softly grinds his knees into Chan’s tented crotch. “ Ah, hyuuuung—,” Chan moans into his mouth, meeting the knee and putting a lopsided smile on Wonwoo’s face.
“S’ good, Channie,” he breathes before he’s kissing again, quick and demanding he wants more. More of Chan, more of his lips, his tongue. A taste so sweet and familiar. Expertly Chan rolls his pelvis over the propped knee and moans, “Please, please,” he pants between the kisses.
Wonwoo’s hand slides under Chan’s tanktop nails dragging over the ribs until Chan is thrusting himself to Wonwoo with the fabric thrown over his head.
From the slender collum of the neck, the delicate Adam’s apple, Wonwoo’s tongue slides and dips into the clavicle kissing the skin and dragging his teeth over the bone. Chan fists his hair and guides him without the patience to his chest right where he wants him. Wonwoo’s tongue pokes at the sensitive bud before he letches on to hear Chan cry out. “Fuck, ah, aghhhh yes, there, there.” He's frenzied and openly humping Wonwoo’s knee. One hand wrapped around Wonwoo’s clothed cock Chan slides his palm over Wonwoo’s cock head making him hiss around the nipple, moans dissolving on Chan’s skin.
When Chan breaks away panting, he slides down holding the hard cock he keeps his eyes on Wonwoo drawing him into faux innocence, almost like he’s pleading with Wonwoo to show him what to do next, his soft eyes blinking up as if he’s asking am I doing well, hyung?
It pains Wonwoo, really. Cock sensitive and bursting at the touch, while his leg trembles in pain pushing sweat to his hairline because at that moment when Chan takes Wonwoo’s cock out and hollows his cheeks for the spongey cockhead to hit the far back of his throat all Wonwoo wants to do is slam his cock down harder into the wet heat. But his leg still fucking hurts.
Instead, he lets himself be as it is. It’s a little rough how his fingers tangle in Chan’s perspirated hair tugging at the follicles until Chan’s misty eyes find him. He's drooling, lips rounded and slicked to take cock. Expertly, he drags his tongue down the bulbous vein on Wonwoo’s dribbling cock and then he’s taking him all at once nearly kissing the base of the cock.
“That’s so good—yeah—fuck I trained you well. When you came to me asking how to better, all shy and blushing. Fuck, baby,” Wonwoo hisses when Chan prods his slit with the tip of the tongue. “Look at you now,” he smiles strengthening his grip, “you always knew this is where you belong, right?” Like he’s a feeble kitten carried in mouth, he tugs him harshly up.
“Yes.” Hoarse, and raspy. “Yes, this is where I belong. Please, hyung, I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Just let me.”
The grip softens and the wet heat finds his cock again, pulsing, aching. “S’ good,” Wonwoo smoothens out the strands of hair out of place, careful and soft, small pets to Chan’s head for a job well done.
He stops holding the self-imposed reins of control since Channie is so good and willing.
Working the shaft Chan bobs his head and he does it as well as he can—the best since he learned to do it just as Wonwoo needs it. PrettyChannie trained to take Wonwoo’s cock. But, it’s been so long and Wonwoo knows he has him whole so he fixes his fingers on the reddening nape and forces his head down until Chan’s moaning or chocking but fuck either way it feels good the sound that his mouth makes around the cock.
If he can’t harshly fuck into him this is the next best thing. Heat pools quickly in his lower stomach ready to burst. He pushes him twice more trembling and his balls tighten, “Fuck, fuck I’m—,” he groans out loosening the grip on him and Chan just stays, nose almost pressed to Wonwoo’s pubic bone he flattens his tongue and takes the hot rope that Wonwoo shoots out. It’s an overwhelming rush of hot flashes that crash into him with pushing force sending him falling backwards on the floor. His knees tremble with the release and it’s a buzzing in his head of floating ecstasy.
When Chan comes up nuzzling against Wonwoo’s shirt and neck and jawline Wonwoo sees some cum dribbling from his lips, “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he hums soft and low before cupping his jawline and kissing him. Salty and sweet he takes all of it.
Chan, the dream that he is, guides Wonwoo’s hand down the pretty line of his body to his ass. When Wonwoo presses there he meets something firm and hums. His hands slide Chan’s clothes under the curve of his ass and his fingers find the hard silicone again, “You’ve had this the whole time?”
It feels all bumpy at the touch and Wonwoo smiles. It’s the one he gifted him, bejeweled at the end. He pushes the plug deeper making Chan’s reply a whiny moan. “Stretched yourself nice for cock?”
“Mhm,” Chan screws his eyes shut and falls a little to meet the thrusts of the toy.
“Slut,” Wonwoo spits out making Chan’s mouth slack in a voiceless moan. The pug can’t be enough, Wonwoo knows it must be torture he teases with the toy pushing in but it never reaches what Chan needs though he tries. He fucks back hard asking for more through whimpers.
Wonwoo’s all fucking spent and tired and weaker than he’d like to admit but it’s really been so long. Chan’s too lost, possibly having accepted this is the way he’d come he shocks when Wonwoo drags the toy out with an obscene, loud pop.
“S’ perfect for me,” he hums, lips pecking the crown of Chan’s golden hair. “How did I get so lucky?” He flings the plug away and circles the wet rim easily slipping in three fingers. All nice and stretched out.
“Here, Chan-ah.” The fingers he replaces with his sensitive cock and Chan sobs. “Good boy,” Wonwoo whispers and it’s tiring and strenuous to try and thrust so he doesn't. He pushes in hard, once grinding in, and then wraps a hand, fingers still wet, around Chan’s cock.
Chan grinds his hips in circles moaning as he does and Wonwoo slides his hand. “Feels good,” Chan cries propped on his palms to hover above Wonwoo. He fucks himself slowly and desperately and Wonwoo sees how lost he is with the few tears that spill out. Wonwoo’s cock is all spent and he only grows a half chub but Chan’s heat is heaven.
“You like fucking hyung’s hand?” Wonwoo asks, tone teasing as Chan thrusts inside his fist.
Like he’s broken or confused Chan nods then ferociously shakes his head, “Feels good in my pussy.”
The words pluck a string in Wonwoo that leaves him breathless and he speeds up the drag of his fist edging Chan closer as his leaking cock fucks faster. Chan’s thrusts grow shallow without coordination and he cries when he spills into Wonwoo’s hand.