Tell me how you like it, baby

          Hyunseung isn’t in love with him.

          He doesn’t love Doojoon—not like that.

          Doojoon is just his boss, his colleague, his friend, his CEO’s son. Doojoon is the young man who walked into the lobby two years ago, looking lost and nervous on his first day of work when Hyunseung thought it was pointless to look anything except confident because Doojoon is the company CEO’s son so what was there to be nervous about?

          Doojoon doesn’t love Hyunseung.

          Hyunseung knows that the older man doesn’t love him because Doojoon loves someone else—he loves a taxi driver who swept him away on his feet. He loves a taxi driver that swept him off on his feet before sweeping away himself out of the country—because his dreams became reality, Doojoon tells Hyunseung and Dongwoon one day when they ask why Yoseob hasn’t stopped by for a week. Doojoon says it with a sad smile and a pat on the maknae’s back before going off on his lunch break. 

          They don’t love each other.

Do you want it fast or slow?

          They don’t love each other but it happens anyway—it happens at a company party in the middle of the year when Doojoon seems quieter than ever because Yoseob has moved once again, this time from Italy to Switzerland and has to get all of his things settled again before he can contact Doojoon. It happens at a company party one night after Junhyung’s once again told Hyunseung that they have to lay low for a while—that they can’t do this anymore (this is the fifth time Junhyung can’t do this anymore), that Junhyung’s parents are introducing him to another girl again, that he can’t be around Hyunseung for a while again.

Boy, I know you’re feeling lonely

It happens because Hyunseung catches Junhyung looking, because Hyunseung catches Doojoon staring into his champagne flute, off to the side where he thinks that no one is looking, checking his phone for any messages—any possible missed calls even though Hyunseung doesn’t know how possible it is for Doojoon to miss calls from Yoseob considering he has his phone constantly in his hand, waiting.

          It happens because Hyunseung wonders what it would be like to be treated like that. He wonders what it would be like to be treated as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world—wonders what it would be like to be put above work, put above position, put above status and society and even family. He wonders what it feels like to be Yoseob, to not have to hide, to not have to sneak around, to have more than just quick moments in bathrooms and closets.

          It happens because Hyunseung might not be in love with Doojoon, but he still loves him—as a friend, as a boss, as the CEO’s son, as a peer, as Yoon Doojoon. It happens because Hyunseung wishes he could use the stars and the moon and the sun to somehow make Yoseob see right at this moment what he left—wishes he could make Yoseob realize that it’s a hard, hard thing to come by. It’s ing hard to find someone who’ll be there for you this unconditionally.

          It happens because it does—because there’s a little too much champagne and anger and confusion in Hyunseung’s system. It happens because there’s a little too much champagne and sadness and loneliness in Doojoon’s system.

          It happens.

Tell me how it feels, when your man don’t please you right

          It happens in an empty conference room, the lights dimmed the way they would be if someone was giving a presentation with the overhead. It happens and part of Doojoon is guilty, part of Doojoon feels like he’s cheating, part of Doojoon feels like he’s breaking Yoseob’s heart, part of Doojoon doesn’t want to do this because it feels like moving on—it makes it feel like Yoseob’s departure is final—is forever. But it still happens—it still happens because another part of Doojoon is angry—is upset and hurt that Yoseob left because even though he was the one who encouraged the younger man to go—

          It doesn’t mean that Yoseob couldn’t have stayed anyway.

          Doojoon is upset and hurt so he sits on the conference table—he sits on the conference table with his legs spread, Hyunseung between them, his hands offing the buttons down Hyunseung’s shirt in one swoop, lips on lips, fingers gripping waistbands and undoing belts, Hyunseung’s mouth on Doojoon’s neck, Doojoon’s mouth on Hyunseung’s collarbone.

          Kissing Hyunseung is different from kissing Yoseob—it’s so different. Kissing Yoseob feels right, feels perfect, feels like sunlight is bursting into Doojoon’s mouth and soaring through his body. When he kissed Yoseob, it would be soft lips and warm breath puffing against the skin along Doojoon’s chin—it would be smiling mouths and flirting tongues.

          Kissing Hyunseung is different—kissing Hyunseung feels like putting his face too close to an open oven—hot and smoldering and quick, intense bouts of need. When he kisses Hyunseung, it’s insistent lips and clashing teeth and grappling tongues—it’s panting breaths and mingling, stumbling words murmured in between kisses.

I got the remedy

          Doojoon doesn’t love Hyunseung. He doesn’t love Hyunseung and he knows Hyunseung doesn’t love him. Hyunseung loves someone else and Doojoon knows that. Doojoon knows that Hyunseung loves someone else, knows who Hyunseung loves and knows how much it hurts Hyunseung every day to love this someone. Doojoon knows how much it hurts Hyunseung when Junhyung comes to company dinner parties with yet another girl that his parents are trying to match him with. Doojoon knows how much it hurts Hyunseung when Junhyung won’t listen to Doojoon trying to convince him that if it comes down to it, Doojoon’s father will protect Junhyung if he wants to come out—and if he never plans to, at least let Hyunseung go.

          Doojoon isn’t blind.

          He isn’t blind, and he isn’t forgetful—he’s seen and he remembers seeing the way Hyunseung used to watch him and Yoseob when the taxi driver dropped by to pick Doojoon up. He remembers how Hyunseung took to Yoseob even faster than Junhyung and Dongwoon—remembers how Hyunseung would laugh and talk with Yoseob and as soon as Doojoon comes in to swoop Yoseob into his arms or hold Yoseob’s hand, a flicker of something undecipherable would go through Hyunseung’s expression and he would turn his head ever so slightly toward wherever Junhyung stood.

          Doojoon doesn’t love Hyunseung.

          He doesn’t love Hyunseung, but for a night he’s willing to give Hyunseung what Hyunseung’s wanted—what Hyunseung wishes he could have. He’s willing to treat Hyunseung how he wants and be what Hyunseung wants—

          Even if he isn’t who Hyunseung wants.

I’ll be your fantasy

          Hyunseung isn’t Yoseob so Doojoon doesn’t treat him like Yoseob.

          With Yoseob, Doojoon would hold a small, pale waist, would kiss every inch of white skin slowly, going back up to meet pink-swollen lips every few moments. Doojoon would up and down soft thighs, would run his fingers maddeningly all over the insides of those thighs—would tease and laugh under his breath until Yoseob sits up beneath him because he needs Doojoon in him right ing now so it’s not funny hyung I’m okay hurry up—

          Doojoon misses him so much.

          Doojoon misses him so much but Hyunseung isn’t Yoseob and Yoseob isn’t Hyunseung and right now it’s not Yoseob—it’s Hyunseung.

          With Hyunseung, Doojoon holds a slender, wiry waist, lifts Hyunseung onto the conference table, both of their bodies bare and flushed and beaded with perspiration, quivering with excitement. With Hyunseung, Doojoon crawls over him on all fours, pins his wrists to the surface, grinds their hips together to stop the younger man from bucking up, kisses his throat, bites his shoulders, gasps into his mouth, slips his arm under Hyunseung’s arching back.

I’ll kiss you from your head to your feet

          Doojoon doesn’t pretend Hyunseung is Yoseob.

          He knows that he can if he wanted to—knows that Hyunseung expects him to, knows that there would be nothing wrong if he does. He knows, but he doesn’t pretend Hyunseung is Yoseob because he knows that Hyunseung is always treated second-best in Junhyung’s life. Doojoon knows that Hyunseung is here because he wants to know what it feels like to be first.

          So Doojoon doesn’t pretend that Hyunseung is Yoseob. Doojoon kisses and holds and and bites Jang Hyunseung, and when he whispers, when he murmurs and moans and sighs, he makes sure—makes sure as far as his incoherent mind will let him—he makes sure that it’s Hyunseung’s name that comes out of his mouth.

I didn’t come to tease you

          Doojoon can’t stop the comparisons—they flow into his head.

          Hyunseung reacts differently from Yoseob.

          When Doojoon kisses Yoseob, slips his tongue in and curls it against the backs of the other man’s teeth, Yoseob’s hands would fly to Doojoon’s hair—gripping it and tousling it and kissing Doojoon back like it’s the only way to breathe. When Doojoon kisses Hyunseung, slips his tongue in and curls it against the backs of the other man’s teeth, Hyunseung gives a tiny gasp, a sharp intake of breath before he locks his wrists behind Doojoon’s neck and presses his body into Doojoon’s closer—tighter.

          When Doojoon stretches his lips over Yoseob’s , hands holding pale thighs apart, tongue swirling in patterns and shapes, throat swallowing up every centimeter, Yoseob will sit up and bend over Doojoon, will wrap his arms tight around Doojoon’s head, hands gripping the older man’s shoulders—Yoseob will pant and sigh in little, breathy puffs, bits of his voice leaking into higher and higher octaves as he chants Doojoon’s name right into the older man’s ear.

          When Doojoon stretches his lips over Hyunseung’s , hands holding pale thighs apart, tongue swirling in patterns and shapes, throat swallowing up every centimeter, Hyunseung thrashes and writhes and squirms on the conference table. Hyunseung twists to the side and grips at the edge of the table, eyes scrunching shut in unimaginable pleasure, his hands nowhere near Doojoon—teeth biting into his lip so nothing comes out but small, escaped moans.

I just want to please you

          When Doojoon slides inside of Yoseob, when Doojoon braces himself with one hand gripping the headboard and one hand resting on Yoseob’s hip, when Doojoon s in and out and in and out and in and out in a steady rhythm, reaching spots that bring tears to Yoseob’s eyes, cries to his voice, that rocks pleasure through his body—Yoseob will sling his arms around Doojoon’s neck, will hold onto Doojoon for dear life. Yoseob will flutter his eyes open and closed—closed, he once told Doojoon, because it feels too good and open, he said after that, because he wants to be able to see Doojoon.

          When Doojoon slides inside of Hyunseung, when Doojoon braces himself with one palm flat on the conference table and one hand resting on Hyunseung’s hip, when Doojoon s in and out and in and out and in and out fast and fierce, reaching spots that make Hyunseung clench his teeth to keep his voice in, throw his head back because the intensity is unbearable—Hyunseung covers his eyes, his face, with his arms, as if shielding himself from an attacker. Hyunseung turns away and Doojoon stops, pauses, for just a brief moment and takes the younger man’s wrists.

          He takes Hyunseung’s wrists and pulls the thin arms apart, holds them down spread eagle and looks into Hyunseung’s eyes—wet and a little raw and a little frightened, a little guilty, and dazed from feeling too much at once. Some of his hair is plastered with sweat onto his forehead and some of it is spread around his head, fluid and beautiful, dark and contrasting over the lightwood table.

          “Yah,” Doojoon says softly, a small smile. “You can’t just cover up something like this,” he chucks Hyunseung’s chin gently. “This is the stuff wars are fought over.”

          Hyunseung smiles back bitterly—sadly. “Junhyungie wouldn’t be fighting in that war.”

          Doojoon gazes back, and wipes some of the moisture gathered underneath Hyunseung’s eyes away with the pad of his thumb. “Actually,” Doojoon says, “I think he’s fighting one right now.” Hyunseung’s eyebrows furrow, confused. “I think he’s in that war right now, so wait for him to come home.”

Hope you like it

          When Yoseob reaches , he will reach it with whimpers and Hyung, Doojoon-hyung on his lips. He will reach it, back arching high off the bed, thighs tighter and tighter around Doojoon’s waist, fingers digging into Doojoon’s skin, tongue searching every inch of Doojoon’s mouth, eyes falling closed, body taut and trembling.

          When Hyunseung reaches , he reaches it with wordless sounds full of cries and gasps. He reaches it, body going rigid and unbearably tight, eyes shut and hands roaming every inch they can reach on Doojoon’s body, toes curling, mouth biting down on Doojoon’s shoulder, lips sliding onto the older man’s as the most intense waves of pleasure hit.

I know you want to be loved

          Hyunseung leaves first, clothes reassembled neatly onto his body, color sufficiently out of his cheeks, hair mostly redone, perspiration wiped off, legs somewhat stable. He leaves first after kissing Doojoon one more time after they are both redressed. He leaves but not before they are in each other’s arms, tight and warm and familiar, faces buried in shoulders. He leaves with Doojoon telling him to make sure that the call to Morocco is made in Morocco’s time zone tomorrow because last time the head of affairs there had to take notes about sales at three in the morning.

          Hyunseung leaves first, closing the door of the conference room behind him, and comes face to face with Junhyung.

          Doojoon is in no rush to leave. He’s in no rush to leave even though he was dressed before Hyunseung because everyone will just assume that the CEO’s son wanted to turn in for an early night like the hard worker, father-like-son that he is. He’s in no rush to leave so he sits in one of the large, plush leather wheeling chairs on one side of the conference room and leans his head back on the edge—he leans his head back on the edge and is about to fall asleep when his pocket starts to vibrate.

          He takes out his phone—

          And smiles at the caller ID.

          “Hey,” he says after he picks up. “So—does their cheese really have holes in it?”

A one night stand is all I need