The moment they get back to the dorm after B.A.P’s latest group trip to the salon, Yongguk takes one look at Junhong’s new hairstyle and says “I don’t like what the stylists have done with your hair.”

 

Junhong smirks, one side of his mouth curving up just enough to make his dimple show. “What do you mean?”

 

He knows exactly what Yongguk means, of course, and Yongguk knows this, but he hopes that feigning cluelessness will get Yongguk to give him a hands-on demonstration.

 

He’s rewarded when Yongguk steps forward, backing Junhong up against the bedroom wall and pressing their bodies together. It’s not really intimidating at all now that Junhong is half a head taller than his older boyfriend, but intimidation isn’t exactly what Yongguk’s going for.

 

“I mean,” he growls out, eyeing Junhong with an almost animalistic ferocity; every inch of him from his chest, to the smooth milky skin of his neck, to his innocently smirking face and the close-cropped peroxide blond hair that now sits atop his head. He reaches up, uselessly attempting to pull at the short strands. “What am I supposed to grab onto?”

 

Junhong’s smirk breaks into a grin now, and he lowers his face so his lips are close to Yongguk’s, their breath mingling in the space between. “I guess we’ll just have to get creative, won’t we?” he murmurs.

 

Yongguk’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, just barely brushing against Junhong’s in the process. It’s enough to make the teen surge forward slightly, wanting to chase that delicious warm wetness and capture it in his mouth, but he holds back. “I guess we will.”

 

Then they’re kissing, open-mouthed, Yongguk’s tongue sliding into Junhong’s mouth so easily, as if they belong like this: sharing breath, lips, tongues. Junhong gets a loose hold on Yongguk’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and since there aren’t any bangs for Yongguk to tug at now, his arms go around Junhong’s neck, hands trailing up until they fist in the longer strands at the back of his nape. Junhong moans his approval into the kiss and Yongguk pulls away, grinning at the reaction he’s elicited.

 

He surveys Junhong’s flushed face and reddened lips, eyes dark with lust, and then he tugs more harshly at the hair still firmly between his fingers. Junhong moans again, a little louder this time, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

 

“I take that back,” Yongguk says, pulling Junhong’s full bottom lip between his teeth and giving another harsh tug to his hair, making Junhong gasp and buck his hips into Yongguk’s. “I love what the stylists have done with your hair.”