Work Text:
Tired of waiting, feeling overstimulated
And I can't take it
We could keep on elevating
And elevating
➽─────────❥
Seungkwan has been staring at him a lot.
It’s a running joke between Seventeen that Hansol can't take his eyes off Seungkwan. He knows it, the entire group knows it, half the world knows it. Hell, even Seungkwan knows it. He’s long gotten over the initial embarrassment of being so obvious about the staring. Being in love with Seungkwan feels like a fact of life, like breathing or waking up in the mornings. Strangely enough, Seungkwan has not picked up on this facet of Hansol’s being, despite knowing so much about him.
Thus, he’s come to two conclusions: 1) Seungkwan doesn't like him back or 2) he genuinely does not know that Hansol harbors any feelings towards him beyond friendship.
If it’s the former… again, he’s gotten over the initial heartbreak. He cherishes the friendship he’s built with Seungkwan, the love and devotion and support that they’ve cultivated throughout the years doesn't need to have romance.
The latter doesn't make sense. Seungkwan is so hyper-aware of the people he loves, even more so with Hansol. He knows every nook and cranny of Hansol’s soul, save for this secret he’s kept tucked away in the corner. Surely over the years he’s suspected something, especially with how easily word gets around among the group? Hansol’s head might explode if he thinks about it too much.
(But sometimes, when the alcohol flows a little too much, some of those feelings resurface. When Seungkwan is red-faced and giggly and draping himself all over Hansol. When they hold hands in car rides home. It’s a feeling he has to let pass through his body and let go: a technique he’s learned from many meditation sessions with Minghao.)
Lately, Hansol feels like something has shifted. Because when he stares at Seungkwan, Seungkwan is starting to stare back. He catches it during practice, during team outings and meetings, across the room at a listening party… he’s lost count.
All he knows is that it started when he first shaved his head.
Hansol figured Seungkwan was just getting used to the new buzzcut. It’s a huge change from the flop of hair he’s had to carry for years.
At first, Seungkwan tears his gaze away, almost embarrassed, caught like a deer in the headlights. Now, when Hansol looks back, their eye contact is sustained, long enough for him to feel completely exposed, helpless to Seungkwan’s dark and heavy gaze.
It’s an hour after Seungkwan’s house-warming party in his new apartment and the entire group has left for the night except for Hansol, who’s lounging on the couch next to him. The overhead lights are off save for some lamps and fairy lights that bask the living room in a gentle, warm glow.
Despite the huge L-shaped couch, Hansol and Seungkwan are huddled close underneath a blanket, their sides pressed up against each other. What was meant to be a quick gossip session about whatever is going on with Minghao and Mingyu turns into a whole debrief of the party. And before they know it, it’s two in the morning.
“Your new hair seriously looks good,” Seungkwan says, reaching his hand over and running his palm over the fuzz on Hansol’s head.
Hansol tilts his head, leaning into the touch, eyes fluttering at the sensation.
“Thank you,” he replies. “I really love it. My head feels so light without all the hair.”
“It suits you really well.” Seungkwan’s voice drops low enough for something to stir in Hansol’s stomach. “You look so good.”
“Yeah?” Hansol replies, scanning every microexpression on Seungkwan’s face.
Seungkwan doesn’t respond; instead, he moves his hand down the side of Hansol’s head, fingers dancing over his ears. There’s a subtle shift in his eyes, turning darker and more intense enough for the feeling in Hansol’s stomach to grow into a pleasant churn. He feels like he’s being unraveled right before Seungkwan’s eyes.
It’s strange to be on the receiving end of things. Usually, Hansol is the one staring from a distance. Watching, always looking out for Seungkwan. But being so close to Seungkwan, being picked apart and put back together by his gaze, Hansol feels frozen in place, a rubber band being stretched out, ready to snap.
Why does Hansol feel like they’re teetering on the edge of a cliff?
“You look really, really good.” Seungkwan’s fingers move from Hansol’s lobe, tracing along his jaw until they rest on his chin, holding him in place. Hansol’s breath turns heavy with every passing second and the feeling in his stomach feels like a buzzing thrum of pleasure that spreads through every limb in his body.
Seungkwan’s thumb runs back and forth over Hansol’s bottom lip, eyes following the movement. Hansol parts just for a little bit, a shuddered exhale escaping his mouth and washing over his thumb.
The tiniest smirk dances over Seungkwan’s face as he pushes his thumb into Hansol’s mouth.
Hansol can’t help it; a low whine escapes his throat and his body feels like it’s on fire. His lips immediately close over Seungkwan’s thumb.
“Fuck,” Seungkwan whispers in that low voice that makes Hansol feel warmth throughout his veins. It's the same voice he uses when he sings his lines in Ash or if he’s admonishing someone.
It spurs Hansol on. He leans his head over, taking Seungkwan’s entire thumb in his mouth. Hansol looks up at him through the long lashes that Seungkwan loves so much.
Seungkwan looks as wrecked as Hansol feels, breath hitching as he circles around the digit with his tongue. On his skin, Hansol tastes salt and remnants of the honey soy garlic chicken from dinner earlier.
Now it’s Seungkwan’s eyes that flutter shut, a moan escaping with the exhale of his breath. The air between them feels thick, the pleasure pulsating between them like planets in orbit.
When Hansol pulls back, there's a resounding pop that he swears bounces from one floor-to-ceiling wall to another. A thin string of spit follows Seungkwan's thumb, breaking away and hanging off Hansol’s lip.
When Hansol speaks, it’s in a low, breathless whisper that’s whiny and desperate.
“Seungkwan. I need to know…”
“Hmm?” Seungkwan drags his thumb down Hansol’s bottom lip down to his neck, toying with the neckline of his T-shirt. As Hansol speaks, Seungkwan throws the blanket off them and shifts even closer to him.
“This is really serious for me,” Hansol continues as Seungkwan settles into his lap, thighs bracketing his legs. His hands settle on Seungkwan’s waist in a firm grip, his self-control hanging on by a thread. “You have to know, do you?”
He doesn't care how fucked out his voice sounds, wide and pleading eyes looking up at Seungkwan in equal parts hunger and reverence.
Seungkwan’s gaze softens, hand reaching out and cupping Hansol’s cheek, thumb grazing along the skin.
“I didn't before,” Seungkwan replies, moving the hand back to his earlobe. “But now I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”
“So you know, then? How much I’m fully yours yours?”
The dark and intense look Seungkwan sported from earlier comes back but with a fire behind it. The hand on Hansol’s earlobe moves to the back of his neck and pulls him towards Seungkwan until their bodies are flushed together.
“My Hansollie,” Seungkwan whispers, lips brushing with every syllable.
Their lips meet, not in an explosion of stars and fireworks, but like the ebb and flow of waves on the beaches of Jeju Island. Hansol sighs into Seungkwan’s mouth, a low moan rising from his throat as he’s drowning in everything Seungkwan: the smell of his orange blossom perfume, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his arms snaking around Hansol’s neck.
With every angle of their heads, noses brushing against each other, the kiss deepens, mouths opening up like flowers in bloom. At the first slide of their tongues, Seungkwan moans into Hansol’s mouth, bodies writhing against each other, every grind of the hips pulling them even closer together.
Seungkwan suddenly pulls away with a resounding pop. Hansol whines, lips chasing after him in a desperate attempt to taste him again, lifting himself off the couch and sitting upright. His hands dig into Seungkwan’s ass to keep him from falling off.
Seungkwan giggles– giggles! Hansol pouts and furrows his brow, causing him to laugh even more. His hand lifts up to wrap around Hansol’s neck, firm enough to hold him in place without making it uncomfortable.
Hansol freezes in place, his grip on Seungkwan’s ass tightening. Maybe enough to make a mark.
Seungkwan doesn't say anything as he moves he drags his hand up, tilting Hansol’s head up so he has no choice but to look straight into his eyes.
There’s something different about Seungkwan’s dark and heated look that Hansol has grown accustomed to. His eyes scan around Hansol’s face: calculating, almost frenzied in a way that Hansol feels like he’s being taken apart.
Seungkwan lifts his hands even higher, holding his jaw in place. Hansol’s breath becomes more labored and he’s pretty sure he’s hard and leaking in his underwear.
“Pretty boy,” Seungkwan says, pressing his index and middle finger together and sliding him into Hansol’s mouth. “So pretty for me.”
Hansol immediately lowers his head, not stopping until he reaches the palm. He feels drunk on Seungkwan’s praises, the haze in his head making him feel dizzy. Stars flash behind Hansol’s eyes as his head bobs up and down Seungkwan’s fingers, tongue swirling around every surface of skin.
Seungkwan’s breath turns heavier, mouth open and chest heaving as his own control starts to slip. Spit gathers around the corners of Hansol’s mouth until it drips down his chin. Seungkwan breaks out in a smirk, tongue running over his lips.
Hansol moans around Seungkwan’s fingers, hips jutting upwards just for any sort of friction.
“So good for me,” Seungkwan comments in a sweet tone, the same one he uses when he dotes after Hansol about his vitamins and skincare routine, a complete contrast to the complete debauchery happening between them at this moment. “Jagiya…”
Hansol pulls away with a wet smack, lips shiny with spit. He feels dizzy and hazy with lust, like he could be in this moment with Seungkwan for the rest of eternity. But Seungkwan is lifting himself off of his lap, almost whining at the lack of contact.
Seungkwan smiles, using his arms to gently manhandle Hansol around the couch. With a palm to Hansol’s chest, Seungkwan shoves him into the cushions, the strength in his arms causing him to moan. Hansol feels pliant as he falls on his back, his limbs feeling like dough for Seungkwan to shape and knead.
Seungkwan looks absolutely sinful as he finds his place back on Hansol’s lap. His chin is tilted up as he leers at Hansol like a king looking down at his kneeling subject. For a moment, nothing happens. Seungkwan toys with the bottom hem of Hansol’s shirt, fingers brushing against his midriff. Even the smallest touch of fingertips against his skin feels like fire.
Suddenly, Seungkwan grinds down hard against Hansol, causing him to throw his head back and moan loud enough to echo through the walls. His hands reach up to grip Seungkwan’s hip, but he bats them away
“No.” Seungkwan’s voice sounds deep and gravelly, reaching into the deepest parts of Hansol’s being, pleasure pulsing at his core. He’s never felt this tightly wound up before like a rubber band being stretched to its very limit. “No hands.”
“Seungkwan–” Hansol mewls. He throws his head against the cushions, feeling the slow drag of Seungkwan’s hands against his torso, riding his shirt up to expose the skin underneath. Hansol’s back arches when his thumbs circle each nipple, the sensation almost feeling like electricity through his veins. “Please… Seungkwan.”
“Please what?” There's a teasing lilt in Seungkwan’s voice like he isn't completely ruining Hansol from the inside out.
“Please… I need…” Hansol arches his back, hips stuttering upward into Seungkwan and his hardness, tears spilling down to the pillow. “I need to come.”
“Yeah?” Seungkwan leans forward, hovering right on top of Hansol. As he does, he takes Hansol’s wrists and holds it above his head, essentially pinning him into place. The necklace he's wearing dangles between them, tickling the hairs on Hansol’s chest.
Slowly, Seungkwan starts moving his hips, grinding slowly against Hansol, the drag of their lengths causing the friction that he was begging for minutes earlier. His hands stay pinned above his head and no matter how hard he tries to move, Seungkwan’s giant hand that drapes over both his wrists keeps it in place.
Hansol is blinded by pleasure, his body moving in tandem with Seungkwan’s as much as he could with a toned, athletic body pressing him into the mattress. The pleasure builds and builds until Seungkwan starts losing control: eyes fluttering shut, head dropping down onto Hansol’s chest. The grip on his wrists loosens for just a moment, giving a window for his hands to break free from Seungkwan’s hold.
Hansol sneaks his hands underneath Seungkwan’s shirt, grasping at the soft skin of his waist, using the newfound freedom to thrust hard into Seungkwan until they're almost seeing stars.
“Ha… Hansol…” Seungkwan whines, the movement of his hips faltering as he rides Hansol into what feels like oblivion.
“I need to cum,” Hansol sobs, head throwing back. “Please.”
Seungkwan looks down at Hansol, eyes fiery and fucked out as a hand returns to his neck, fingers sprawled out.
Except this time, he presses down and grinds hard against him several times, almost like he’s bouncing on Hansol’s.
With eyes rolling at the back of his head, Hansol cums with a loud moan, hips stuttering as he loses control of his body just for a moment. He holds onto Seungkwan’s shoulders, fingers digging into his clothes as he rides out what feels like the longest orgasm of his life. Seungkwan follows right after him, body trembling as he orgasms, hot breath washing over Hansol’s ear, moans making his softening cock twitch in interest.
As their orgasms taper out, the silence settles back in the apartment, save for their labored breathing. Hansol feels overheated, sweat dripping down his neck like he just did an entire workout session with one of the members. But Seungkwan buries his head into Hansol’s neck, settling his weight on top of his body.
Hansol runs a hand up Seungkwan’s back, threading through his hair. He doesn't know how long they stay laying there, hands mapping each other's skin, breaths evening out.
As his brain reboots into coherent thought, Hansol finally processes the past… however long that was. Now, his face is burning in a different way.
Suddenly, Hansol bursts out into uncontrollable giggles. Seungkwan lifts his head, eyeing him with a raised brow. His hair looks like a mess, sticking every which way with every pass of Hansol’s hands from earlier.
Hansol covers his face with his hands, trying to curl in on himself as if he isn't trapped by Seungkwan’s body. He feels incredibly perceived, like Seungkwan is holding a magnifying glass in front of him. What’s left for Seungkwan to learn now that he knows the full extent of Hansol’s love and affection?
“You’re shy?!” Seungkwan exclaims, grabbing Hansol’s wrists and prying them apart to see his face. “My fingers were in your mouth and you have the nerve to be shy about it?!”
“I told you it's really serious for me.” Hansol looks up at Seungkwan, his body silhouetted behind the city lights.
“You did.” Seungkwan fidgets with the hem at the bottom of Hansol’s shirt, his gaze softening. He leans forward, crossing his arms on Hansol’s chest to rest his chin on. It’s a very domestic sight for the debauchery that happened just minutes ago. “Ah… I guess I’m also embarrassed. I really didn't know, Sollie. I had to get turned on by your buzzcut for me to see things differently.” He picks at the hairs on Hansol’s chest. “You waited so long.”
“It’s really okay.” Hansol reaches over, finger poking at the squished cheek against Seungkwan’s arms. “I love you both as my best friend and… maybe more if you want. I enjoy having you in my life and I didn't want a crush to constantly dampen it.”
Seungkwan doesn't say anything for a moment. Hansol doesn't mind waiting; it's a pretty intense conversation to have after dryhumping each other on the couch. He’ll wait as long as Seungkwan wants.
Suddenly, Seungkwan is hoisting himself off Hansol’s chest, leaning in to give him a deep kiss.
“Of course I love you too, babo,” Seungkwan says as soon as he pulls back, playfully batting at Hansol’s chest. “In all the ways.”
Hansol can't help it, his smile grows from ear to ear, giddiness bubbling in his stomach. He’s about to sit up and start round two when he feels the wetness in his boxers.
“Ugh,” he mutters. “We should really shower and change.”
“Yeah. I still have your clothes from the last time you stayed over.” Seungkwan stands up, wincing at what Hansol assumes is the cum in his boxers. Despite this, he grabs onto Hansol's hands, pulling him back on his feet. “Let’s go.”
With a kiss (or two) (or three) (or five), they head into Seungkwan's bedroom, hands laced together.
Hansol only stops smiling when he’s in bed with Seungkwan, the sound of his heartbeat lulling him to sleep.