Archive of Our Own ^beta

Cha Woonggi could feel the eyes on him.

His team, the cameras, the mentors—each gaze was a weight he couldn’t shake. Expectations pressed down like the ghosts of his past decisions, heavy and inescapable.

Team Beat’s rehearsal room, once alive with determination, now felt like a cage. The chatter of his teammates blended into an oppressive hum, punctuated by sharp-edged criticisms that cut through the noise like knives.

They were all on edge.

Most of the team already had one yellow card. One more failure, and half the lineup would be eliminated. The stakes were suffocating, a silent reminder hanging over their heads like the fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly above.

“Yah, Woonggi-ah, we rehearsed this line and move three times already,” one member snapped, their irritation barely masked by a forced smile.

Another chimed in with a smirk that didn’t quite reach their eyes, “You’re the ace, right? Act like it. Don’t you know our chances of debuting are in your hands? You’ve got the main part, after all.”

Woonggi’s forced smile felt brittle, as though a single push could shatter it.

He nodded, swallowing the sharp sting of their words. His fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing. The silence screamed louder than any argument could. They were counting on him, leaning on his experience and talent to carry them. Yet, every step forward felt like trudging through quicksand.

The weight became unbearable.

He slipped out of the rehearsal room under the pretense of needing a break, his heart racing as he hurried to the washroom. The cold tiles and dim lighting offered a brief reprieve, but his composure crumbled as soon as he shut himself in a stall.

Woonggi leaned against the wall and pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle the shaky breaths escaping him.

Why am I like this?

The comments of his teammates echoed in his mind, overlapping with older, sharper voices from the past. He had heard it all before—arrogant, self-centered, a traitor. They weren’t wrong. His confidence had turned to arrogance once. It had fractured something precious, something irreparable.

The creak of a stall door nearby startled him. His breath hitched as he caught sight of worn sneakers under the door.

Kyungho’s sneakers.

Woonggi froze.

“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” Kyungho’s voice was soft but firm, cutting through the stillness of the washroom.

Woonggi scoffed, wiping at his face hastily before stepping out. “Since when do you care?”

Kyungho leaned casually against the wall, his posture relaxed, but his eyes betrayed the storm underneath. “I could ask you the same thing. But here we are.”

The tension between them was palpable, a bitter cocktail of nostalgia, resentment, and something neither of them dared name.

Woonggi crossed his arms, glaring at his former bandmate. “What do you want, Kyungho?”

Kyungho exhaled slowly. “To tell you what no one else will. You’re letting them get in your head, Woonggi. And if you don’t pull yourself together, you’re going to drag everyone else down with you.”

The words hit harder than any critique from his teammates. “You think I don’t know that?” Woonggi snapped, his voice rising. “You think I don’t feel it? Every step, every breath—it’s like I’m carrying the weight of the whole damn world on my shoulders. And you—”

He stopped short, his voice cracking.

Kyungho’s expression softened, the anger slipping away to reveal something gentler. “I’m not here to fight you,” he said quietly. “But you need to stop looking at the past. The only way to move forward is to let go.”

“Let go?” Woonggi’s laugh was bitter. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one everyone’s waiting to see fail.”

Kyungho’s gaze didn’t waver. “No, but I’ve seen you work. I know how much you’ve put into this. It’s okay to be scared, Woonggi, but you don’t have to do this alone.”

Back in the rehearsal room, Woonggi felt lighter. Not entirely free… but the crushing weight had eased, just a little.

The third stage, "Intervention," was brutal.

For Team Beat and Team Groove, it wasn’t just a performance—it was survival. The arena buzzed with anticipation, lights flickering dramatically as Jay Park took center stage.

“Alright, everyone!” Jay’s voice boomed. “It’s time to cast your votes! Who will come out on top—Team Beat or Team Groove?”

The countdown began. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

The screen lit up, and Jay’s grin widened. “And the winner is… Team Groove!”

Cheers erupted from the opposing team, their members jumping and hugging one another in triumph. Team Beat stood frozen, their loss a cold, hard slap to the face.

Woonggi’s heart sank, but he kept his expression neutral.

As the cameras turned away, Yoon Do Yoon, ever the team mediator, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you did good,” he said, his grin warm and reassuring. “There’s always next time, yeah?”

Next time.

Woonggi nodded, forcing a small smile. But inside, he knew there was no room for "next time." Not for him.

The air in the room was stifling. The scent of sweat, stage lights, and lingering frustration hung heavy, permeating the space with an invisible weight that pressed on everyone’s chest. Woonggi stood apart from others to process the current situation.

“Fuck it... We lost. It’s because of that brat Woonggi. He messed everything up.”

The voice, sharp and bitter, came from one of the members across the stage. Others murmured in agreement and although their volume were low, the comments were still venomous. Woonggi felt their gazes burning into him, each one a silent accusation. His stomach churned, but he didn’t look up. What was the point? They were right, weren’t they?

“Hey!” Nam Do Yoon’s voice cut through the tension like a whip. He moved to stand between Woonggi and the rest of the team, his arms spread wide in a protective stance.

“Enough, alright? It wasn’t just one person’s fault. We all had a part in this.”

His words fell on deaf ears. The murmurs grew louder, bubbling with frustration that had no other outlet.

But Woonggi had heard enough. He stood, his movements stiff and jerky, and stepped forward.

“No, Do Yoon,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They’re right.”

The room fell silent. All eyes were on him now, their collective judgment weighing down on his shoulders.

“I messed up,” he continued, forcing the words out even as his throat constricted. “And I’m sorry.”

The apology hit the room like a dropped pin, sharp in its quiet sincerity. Woonggi’s shoulders trembled as he fought to keep his composure, but the dam broke before he could stop it. Tears blurred his vision, and a strangled sob escaped his lips.

He collapsed back onto the bench, his hands covering his face as the weight of his failure bore down on him. The sobs came hard and fast, echoing in the now silent room. The crowd started to cheer Woonggi up one by one.

From the corner of the room, Kyungho watched in stunned silence.

He had been angry—no, furious. He’d wanted to scream at Woonggi, to blame him and justify that his loss was his karma for abandoning his old group. But now... seeing Woonggi like this, crumpled and crying, all that anger melted away.

In its place was something far more painful.

Guilt. Regret. Memories of the friend he’d once known.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Kyungho’s voice rang out, firm and commanding.

The team turned toward him, startled by the uncharacteristic force in his tone. He stepped into the center of the room, his posture stiff but his gaze unwavering while grabbing the mic from the MC Jay Park.

“I imagined,” Kyungho began, his voice quieter now but no less resolute, “that one day, Woonggi and I would be standing onstage together, holding a trophy in front of our fans.” He paused, the weight of his words sinking into the air. “That’s not what happened today. But I know one thing for sure—we’ve all seen how hard Woonggi works. Day and night, he pushes himself to be better. You’ve all seen it too, haven’t you?”

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. Slowly, the anger on his teammates’ faces began to fade, replaced by something softer—something closer to guilt.

Kyungho’s voice softened further, though it still carried the same unyielding conviction. “We’re here because we love this. Because we believe in this dream. If we let one mistake, one performance, tear us apart... then what the hell are we even doing here?”

Woonggi lifted his head, his tear-streaked face pale and blotchy. His gaze met Kyungho’s, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

The Kyungho standing before him now wasn’t the same as the one who’d been distant, cold, and critical for months. This Kyungho was familiar—he was the boy who had once stayed up all night practicing alongside him, who had believed in him when no one else did.

Do Yoon broke the silence with a grin, clapping Kyungho on the back. “Well said, Kyungho. I think we all needed to hear that.”

He turned to Woonggi, his grin softening into something kinder. “And you, Woonggi—don’t let this get to you. You’ve got people out there who believe in you, and they’re waiting for you to get back up.”

Woonggi managed a small, tearful smile. “Thanks, Do Yoon. And... Kyungho.”

Kyungho didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in a few long strides, stopping in front of Woonggi. Before Woonggi could process what was happening, Kyungho’s arms wrapped around him in a tight hug.

The embrace was firm, grounding, and so unexpected that Woonggi froze. But as the warmth of it sank in, something inside him broke open. Slowly, hesitantly, he brought his arms up to return the hug. His tears started anew, soaking into Kyungho’s shirt, but this time they didn’t feel as heavy.

For a moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

This hug wasn’t just an apology; it was a promise. A silent vow to mend what had been broken between them.

When they finally pulled apart, Woonggi met Kyungho’s eyes. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat.

Kyungho gave him a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Woonggi nodded, his chest feeling just a little lighter.

Do Yoon clapped his hands, breaking the moment. “Alright, everyone! Enough of the drama. We’ve got a new song to learn, and we’re gonna crush it the next round!”

Laughter rippled through the room, hesitant but genuine. As the team dispersed, the air felt lighter, the tension replaced by a fragile but growing sense of unity.

Kyungho lingered for a moment, watching Woonggi. Their eyes met again, and in that fleeting glance, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

“Let’s make it count,” Kyungho said softly before turning away.

Woonggi smiled to himself, the corners of his mouth trembling but determined. Yes, they would.

A loud noise played in the background signaling the end of broadcast. MC Jay Park announced "Thanks everyone for tuning in. Don't forget to cast your votes daily."

The camera panned away, signaling the end of the live broadcast. The arena began to empty, leaving behind the echoes of cheers and the lingering tension.

He hesitated before speaking, his voice low but resolute. “Hyung, I’ll talk to you… tonight. Midnight. Second annex building. The secret rehearsal room.”

His gaze locked with Kyungho’s, a rare flash of vulnerability slipping through his usually guarded demeanor. “We still have a lot to talk about.”

Kyungho studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow nod, he said, “I’ll be there.”

For a moment, neither moved. The unspoken tension between them crackled like static, heavy in the silence. Finally, Woonggi turned, his footsteps echoing faintly as he disappeared down the corridor, leaving Kyungho alone with his thoughts.

The secret rehearsal room was a relic of the building’s past, tucked away in the farthest corner of the second annex. Once used for private practice, it had been forgotten over time, claimed by the contestants as a refuge from prying eyes and relentless cameras.

Woonggi arrived first. The room was just as he remembered: dim, cold, and spread with a peculiar sense of nostalgia. A battered upright piano stood in the corner; its once-polished surface now dulled by years of neglect. The faint scent of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of rusted equipment.

He leaned against the wall, his breath visible in the chilly air. Memories of countless late nights spent in this room clawed their way to the surface—nights filled with frustration, exhaustion, and fleeting moments of triumph. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his sweatshirt as he waited, the ticking of an old clock on the wall marking each passing second.

The door creaked open.

Woonggi’s head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat as Kyungho stepped inside. The glow from the hallway framed him for a moment before the door clicked shut, plunging the room back into its muted shadows.

Kyungho’s gaze swept the room before settling on Woonggi. He crossed the space with measured steps, his silhouette tall and composed. Without a word, he sat down on the piano’s creaky bench, his fingers trailing over the keys without pressing them.

“So,” Kyungho began, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, almost too calm. “You wanted to talk?”

Woonggi took a step forward, then stopped, his resolve faltering. The words he’d rehearsed in his mind felt heavy on his tongue, weighed down by years of silence.

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I think it’s time we talked about everything. The past, TO1… us.”

Kyungho nodded slowly, his expression guarded but not unkind. “Then start,” he said simply, his fingers lightly brushing against the piano keys. “I’m listening.”

Woonggi exhaled sharply, his breath shaky. “I want to start by saying I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “For everything. For leaving like I did. For not explaining. For hurting you.”

Kyungho’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face. He tilted his head, studying Woonggi. “Go on,” he prompted, his tone softer now.

Woonggi’s hands trembled as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “I thought I was doing the right thing. That if I left, it would somehow save us all. But it didn’t. It just… it just made things worse.” He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “I was so stupid. I thought I could fix everything on my own. But all I did was hurt the people I cared about most.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Woonggi’s words hanging heavy in the air.

“You were an asshole, Woonggi,” Kyungho said at last, his lips curving into a small, sad smile.

Woonggi let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I was. I still am.”

Kyungho’s smile faded, replaced by something softer, more understanding. “Do you remember the night before you left?” he asked quietly. “You came to my room. You said everything was falling apart—that the group was going nowhere, that we were going to burn out before we even had the chance to make it.”

Woonggi winced at the memory, the image of his younger self flashing before his eyes. “I was so angry back then,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “At the group. At myself. I thought if I didn’t leave, we’d all end up as nobodies. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just running away.”

“You were scared,” Kyungho said, his tone gentle. “We all were. But we could have faced it together. You didn’t have to carry it alone.”

“I know that now,” Woonggi whispered. “But back then… I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t know how to trust anyone—not even you.”

Kyungho was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Woonggi. Then, he reached out, placing a hand on Woonggi’s shoulder. The gesture was firm, grounding. “You’re here now,” he said simply. “That counts for something.”

Woonggi blinked, his vision blurring as tears welled in his eyes. “I want to make things right,” he said, his voice barely audible. “With you. With everyone.”

Kyungho nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Then let’s start here,” he said.

For the first time in years, the tightness in Woonggi’s chest began to ease.

Woonggi stood by the dusty piano, his arms wrapped around himself as though shielding against an invisible chill. His chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, his gaze fixed on the floor. Words churned in his mind, but none felt adequate to bridge the chasm between them.

Kyungho leaned against the wall, his posture deceptively relaxed. His sharp eyes never left Woonggi, studying every shift in his stance, every unspoken hesitation.

Finally, Woonggi broke the silence, his voice trembling. “Kyungho, I—” He faltered, the lump in his throat threatening to choke the words before they escaped. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look up. “I’m sorry.”

Kyungho’s expression didn’t change, but the flicker of pain in his eyes betrayed him. “You’ve said that before,” he replied, his tone steady but cool. “What exactly are you sorry for, Woonggi?”

Woonggi winced. It was a fair question, one he couldn’t brush aside this time. He took a shaky breath, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. “For leaving. For shutting you out. For... everything.” His gaze dropped again, ashamed to meet Kyungho’s piercing stare. “You deserved better than that.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw, and Kyungho pushed off the wall, taking a few measured steps closer. His voice softened, though it carried a thread of hurt. “It wasn’t just about you leaving, Woonggi. You didn’t trust me enough to let me in. You made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

Woonggi’s throat tightened, a fresh wave of regret washing over him. “I know,” he whispered. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle... everything I was feeling. You have no idea how much I hated myself for it.”

“Then tell me,” Kyungho pressed, his voice low but insistent. “What were you so afraid of?”

Woonggi looked up at him then, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. His lips trembled as he forced the words out. “You. Us. What I felt for you. I was terrified of what it would mean, for the group, for our careers, for everything we’d worked so hard to build.” He took a step back, leaning heavily against the piano as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. “I thought if I distanced myself, I could make it go away. But it didn’t.”

Kyungho froze, the truth of Woonggi’s words settling over him like a blanket of cold air. He had always suspected there was more to Woonggi’s withdrawal, but hearing it confirmed left him momentarily speechless.

“You... you felt the same?” Kyungho finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Woonggi let out a shaky laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I didn’t just feel the same. I loved you, Kyungho. I still do. But I was too much of a coward to face it. And in trying to protect us, I ended up hurting you more than I ever wanted to.”

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as the weight of their shared history pressed down on them. Kyungho closed the distance between them, stopping just inches away. He raised a hand but hesitated, his fingers hovering near Woonggi’s face. “You idiot,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “Do you know how long I waited for you to say that?”

Woonggi’s breath hitched, his tears finally spilling over. “Kyungho, I—”

“Shh.” Kyungho cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. His touch was warm and grounding, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions between them. “I’m not angry anymore. I just... I need to know. Do you still feel it? Do you still want this?”

Woonggi leaned into his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. The warmth of Kyungho’s palm seeped into him, melting the icy fear that had gripped him for years. “Yes,” he whispered. “I’ve always wanted this. I just didn’t know how to let myself have it.”

Kyungho exhaled slowly, relief softening his features. “Then let’s stop running,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. But we can start.”

Woonggi opened his eyes, the vulnerability in his gaze mirrored by the tenderness in Kyungho’s. He nodded, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. “Okay.”

Kyungho’s hand slid to the back of Woonggi’s neck, pulling him closer. Their foreheads touched, and for a moment, they simply breathed each other in.

When their lips finally met, it was hesitant at first—a tentative brush, as if testing the waters of something fragile and new. But as Woonggi’s hands found their way to Kyungho’s shoulders, the kiss deepened, years of unspoken longing pouring into the space between them.

The world outside fell away, leaving only the steady thrum of their hearts and the warmth of shared intimacy.

For the first time in years, neither of them felt alone.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, the silvery beams streaming through the open window and casting shadows over the two figures tangled together. Kyungho’s gaze lingered on Woonggi, his eyes tracing every inch of the other man's body, the smooth lines of his skin illuminated by the pale light.

It was impossible to believe that someone so perfect, so stunning, could be right there with him. The intensity of his desire was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just physical—it was an all-encompassing need, an ache that had lived inside him for far too long.

His hands, trembling slightly, reached out to pull Woonggi closer, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of his back.

The warmth of Woonggi’s body against his was intoxicating. Kyungho leaned in, unable to resist any longer, and captured Woonggi’s lips with a kiss that was as fierce as it was desperate. Woonggi moaned softly, a sound that sent shivers down Kyungho’s spine.

His hands tangled in Kyungho’s wavy hair, pulling him closer, as if he, too, couldn’t bear the space between them.

Kyungho deepened the kiss, their mouths moving together with an urgency that matched the pounding of his heart. Woonggi’s tongue met his, tentative at first, then more certain as they explored each other, tasting, claiming, surrendering.

The sensation of Woonggi’s hands in his hair made him feel as if he were losing himself, drowning in the heat that spread through his veins. The soft whisper of the night air was the only sound that accompanied their desperate kisses.

The moonlight spilled across their bodies, highlighting the soft curve of Woonggi’s jaw, the muscle of his chest. Kyungho’s breath hitched as Woonggi’s hands began to explore his own body, tracing the hard, defined lines of his muscles with slow, reverent touches.

It was as if Woonggi were trying to memorize every inch of him, feeling the strength that came from years of hard work, the way his body had been sculpted by effort and desire. Kyungho’s mind swam in the sensation of being touched so gently, so intimately.

"Woonggi..." Kyungho breathed, his voice ragged. He pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting against Woonggi’s. His heart pounded in his chest, but he had to make sure. "Are you sure about this?"

Woonggi looked at him, eyes dark and full of want, but there was something more there too—something softer, more vulnerable. "Yes, hyung," he whispered, his voice steady, but with a rawness that matched the desperation in his eyes. "I want this. I want you."

Kyungho’s body responded instantly, his desire flaring up once more, but his heart still ached with the need to protect. “I don't want to rush you into anything,” he murmured, his tone softer now, a gentle growl under the words. “If you change your mind—”

“No,” Woonggi interrupted, his fingers pressing gently against Kyungho’s lips. “I don’t want to change my mind. I’ve wanted this, for so long…”

Kyungho’s pulse quickened. His hands slid down Woonggi’s back, the warmth of his skin under his fingers almost too much to bear. He kissed him again, this time slowly, savoring the moment—the sweet taste of his lips, the way their bodies fit together as if they were always meant to be this close. His hands moved over Woonggi’s body, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his heartbeat against his fingertips.

As their bodies pressed together, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of them, tangled in a web of desire and need. The moonlight reflecting off their skin, the scent of the night air, the rhythmic sound of their breaths—it was all so perfect, so raw, so real.

Woonggi’s hands moved lower, tracing the muscles of Kyungho’s stomach, the soft curve of his hips, then lower still, feeling the heat of him through the fabric of his clothes.

Kyungho gasped, his hips involuntarily pushing into Woonggi’s touch, his control slipping away with every caress.

“Hyung,” Woonggi breathed against his skin, his voice low and husky. "I need you. I need all of you. Right now.”

The words sent a shock through Kyungho’s body, his hands shaking as he moved to take off their clothes. It was an almost frantic exchange, the need to be as close as possible overriding all thought.

Their clothes were discarded and skin exposed to the cool air. Kyungho’s eyes lingered on Woonggi’s body, seeing him in a new light—a work of art, a masterpiece carved by desire.

Woonggi’s breath hitched as he looked at Kyungho, his hands moving to his chest, fingers tracing the ridges of his muscles, memorizing every detail. He kissed Kyungho’s neck, then lower, slowly, teasing him with every touch, every lick.

Kyungho’s body arched at the feeling of Woonggi’s lips against his skin, the trail of fire that Woonggi left in his wake. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Every inch of him was consumed by the feeling of Woonggi’s touch.

“Fuck, Woonggi…,” Kyungho groaned, his hands gripping Woonggi’s hair as he tilted his head back, desperate for more. “Please, don’t stop.”

Woonggi’s smile was dark, mischievous, and full of lust. He lowered himself slowly, his hands trailing down Kyungho’s body, his touch gentle but insistent. His lips moved over Kyungho’s chest, tasting his skin, savoring the sensation of being so close to him, so completely connected.

As their movements grew more frantic, more desperate, they lost themselves in the rhythm of their bodies, the sounds of their pleasure filling the room. Kyungho’s hands were everywhere, tracing every curve, every line, exploring Woonggi’s body like it was a map, a secret he longed to uncover. He wanted to know everything about him, every part, every inch.

“Fuck, hyung, you feel so good,” Woonggi gasped, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the heat of the moment. “So fucking good.”

Kyungho pulled away from Woonggi for a moment, just long enough to grab a condom and some lube from his bag. He tossed the packet to Woonggi, who quickly tore it open.

Woonggi tried to find a practice mat that was comfortable enough for them to lie down. He quickly spread a thin blanket on the floor while preparing the condom. His kisses trace down each Kyungho's body parts starting from his neck. He paid special attention to Kyungho’s defined abs and kept swirling his tongue around each one.

Then, he moved on to tease his nipples with soft bites while using his soft hands to twist them. As Woonggi mouth moves lower, Kyunho could feel the heat of Woonggi’s breath spreading on his cock. He could feel the anticipation building inside him as the other’s lips inched closer.

Woonggi looked up at Kyungho making sure that his eyes are locked onto his. He could see the desire…the lust…the raw need that mirrors his own fantasy. He wanted this moment, every bit of it. He wanted Kyungho… all of him.

He unbuttoned his jeans and found his boxers stained with precum while Kyungho’s cocked pulsed with desire. He wrapped his hand around his stained underwear intending to torture him slowly by licking his precum that oozed out.

Kyungho watched Woonggi and felt a rush of heat between his legs. The fact that Woonggi’s mouth was on him was everything that he ever wanted. He groaned and pushed hips up making him gag from the sheer size and girth of his big cock.

Woonggi smiled and licked his lips, tasting the muskiness and saltiness of Kyungho’s precum while moaning from Kyungho’s fingers being inserted in his puckered hole.

“Hyung… I can’t believe it’s this big and you’re only halfway hard. Are you sure it will fit me,” Woonggi asked while his voice muffed by the cock in his mouth. He looked up to Kyungho, his eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and tension.

Kyungho groaned, his hips bucking slightly as Woonggi’s word sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. “Fuck, Woonggi… You have no idea how much I want to feel your right cunt around me. But we need to take this slow… okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kyungho nodded, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to regain control.

Woonggi moved back up Kyungho's body, positioning himself so that he was straddling Kyungho's hips. He pinned down Kyungho to the bed and could feel the heat of Kyungho's cock pressing against his own, the slickness of his precum coating both of their shafts. He reached back, grabbing a handful of lube, and poured it onto his fingers.

Woonggi watched, his breath coming in short gasps as Kyungho's long, elegant fingers smeared the cool gel over himself.

He was so turned on, he was leaking precum onto Kyungho's cock. He felt a blush spread over his face as Kyungho glanced down, noticing the wet spot on his sheets.

"Fuck, Woonggi, you're so fucking hard already," Kyungho growled, his fingers wrapping around Woonggi's shaft and giving it a firm stroke.

Woonggi gasped, his hips bucking into the touch.

"Shit, hyung, that feels so fucking good," he moaned, his head falling back, exposing his neck to Kyungho.

Kyungho's lips found the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing against Woonggi's flesh as he spoke against his skin. "You like that, don't you? You like feeling my hand on your cock."

Woonggi whimpered, his hips moving in rhythm with Kyungho's hand. "Yes, fuck yes. I want more, hyung." Both their hand was on their cocks sliding with each other with foreign liquids. Woonggi moaned as he felt Kyungho's long, skilled fingers grip his cock, stroking him with just the right amount of pressure.

He leaned in, capturing Woonggi's lips in a fierce kiss as he continued to stroke him.

"Hyung...look at that size difference. I can't believe you're this big that mine feels like a toy. Is yours like... nine inches?" Woonggi moaned, his voice barely a whisper as Kyungho's fingers teased his hole, slowly pushing inside him. He could feel the burn, the stretch, and he loved every second of it. "I bet it feels so fucking good to have your big cock in me."

Kyungho groaned, his cock throbbing with need as he listened to Woonggi's filthy words. You're so fucking tight. I can't wait to feel you clench around me."

Woonggi looked down, watching as Kyungho's thick cock pushed inside him, inch by inch.

The burn was intense, but it was overpowered by the pleasure that coursed through his veins. He could feel every ridge, every vein of Kyungho's cock as it stretched him wide open.

"Fuck, Woonggi, you're so fucking tight," Kyungho groaned, his hips moving slowly, giving Woonggi time to adjust. Woonggi panted, his nails digging into Kyungho's back, urging him to move faster.

"Hyung.... It hurts so much. Please hug me and kiss me... I want to ease the pain" ; Woonggi whimpered, his nails digging deeper into Kyungho's back, a silent plea for comfort.

Kyungho obliged, leaning down to capture Woonggi's lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. He could taste the saltiness of Woonggi's tears, the sweetness of his desperation. He knew that kiss wouldn't be enough to mask the pain, but he hoped it would offer some form of solace, a distraction from the discomfort.

Woonggi's body tensed as Kyungho's cock pushed deeper, the burn intensifying with each inch. Kyungho groaned, his hips still moving slowly, giving Woonggi time to adjust. "Fuck, Woonggi, you're so tight. You’re squeezing me so fucking good."

Woonggi whimpered, his eyes watering from the pain and the intensity of the sensation. He wrapped his legs around Kyungho's waist, pulling him closer, desperate for more. "Hyung, please... it hurts so much. But I want more. I want all of you."

"Fuck, Kyungho! Right there, right fucking there Hyung!" Woonggi cried out, his head thrown back, his eyes rolling as he hit his spot. Kyungho's cock was hitting that perfect spot inside him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

"Fuck, Woonggi, you feel so fucking amazing. Your tight little hole is gripping my cock so fucking good," Kyungho growled, his hips moving faster, harder. "I can't get enough of you. I never want to stop fucking you."

Woonggi let out a moan, his body trembling with each powerful thrust. "Yes, hyung, fuck me. Fuck me harder. Make me yours," he begged, his voice a desperate plea.

"Who do you think you're talking to, Woonggi?" Kyungho growled, his voice laced with both pleasure and possessiveness. "You're mine. You've always been mine."

Kyungho's thrusts became more aggressive, his hips slamming into Woonggi with a force that left them both breathless. The room was filled with the sound of their bodies coming together, the wet smacking of flesh against flesh, the soft moans and gasps that escaped their lips.

Woonggi tried to regain composure, but the fast erratic speed of Kyungho led him to fall. His arms were pinned against Kyungho's abs and was trying to tap his body to notify him.

"Wait, hyung... something weird is coming out my body, Woonggi panted,” his face a mix of confusion and pleasure. Kyungho looked down, his eyes widening as he saw the clear, slippery substance leaking from Woonggi's ass, coating his cock and balls.

"Fuck, Woonggi, you're squirting," Kyungho groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he felt the warm, thick fluid enveloping his cock. "That's so fucking hot."

Woonggi's eyes widened in surprise, his body shaking as the sensation of his prostate being stimulated sent waves of pleasure crashing through him.

"H-Hyung, what the...?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kyungho's eyes darkened with lust as he watched Woonggi's reaction, his cock throbbing with the need to claim him completely.

“Fuck, hyung....wait. I don't know why but I feel like something is going to burst out," Woonggi gasped, his body tensing up as he felt the pressure building inside him. Kyungho's eyes widened in surprise as he felt Woonggi's body clench around him, the tightness almost unbearable.

He knew that feeling, knew what was about to happen.

"Fuck, Woonggi, don't hold back. Let it go, baby," Kyungho growled, his hips moving faster, harder, urging Woonggi to let go. "Cum for me, Woonggi.” He could feel the pressure building inside him, the need for release overwhelming. His body tensed, his muscles clenched as he pushed back against Kyungho's thrusts, meeting him stroke for stroke.

Woonggi let out a whimpering moan, his body tensing as the sensation built to a fever pitch. "Fuck, hyung...I'm close...I'm so fucking close..."

The words barely left his lips before his orgasm crashed over him. His body convulsed, every muscle in his body tensing and releasing in rapid succession. He could feel his cock pulsing, thick ropes of cum shooting out and coating his belly and chest. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, his entire body shaking and trembling with the force of his release.

Woonggi's vision blurred with tears, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he came undone beneath Kyungho. The pleasure was so intense, it bordered on pain, a raw, overwhelming feeling that left him feeling both exhilarated and utterly spent.

Woonggi's body was still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his muscles clenching and releasing around Kyungho's cock.

He could feel the heat of Kyungho's gaze on him, could hear the harshness of his breath as he chased his own release. "Hyung... I want to feel your cum inside me. I want to feel your hot load filling me up," Woonggi whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

Kyungho let out a low growl, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. "Fuck, Woonggi, that's so fucking hot. I want that too. I want to fill you up, to mark you as mine. To leave my seed deep inside you.” Kyungho’s voice was a low growl, thick with desire and possession.

"Woonggi~~~ ah" Kyungho’ hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper into Woonggi with brutal force. He knew he was close since he could feel the familiar tingling sensation that signaled his impending release.

Finally, the sensation of Kyungho filling him, marking him as his own, was intoxicating. Kyungho's hips continued to move in shallow, jerky thrusts, his cock pulsing deep inside Woonggi as he rode out his orgasm. He released a huge load of his cum deep into Woonggi, as the warmth of his seed filled his insides, marking him as his own. He could feel every pulse of his cock as it released, the sensation intense and overwhelming.

Woonggi let out a final, desperate whimper, his body convulsing with the force of their shared orgasm. He could feel Kyungho's cock twitching inside him, the heat of his cumfilling him up, coating his insides with proof of their union. He had never felt so claimed, so owned, so completely and utterly possessed by someone before.

"Wait Woonggi, don't move too much" Kyungho muttered, as he pulled out of him. He had never been into this type of thing before. He never had an interest to try out rough sex.

"I'm sorry Woonggi, I didn't mean to..." Kyungho's voice was thick with regret.

Woonggi looked up to Kyungho with confusion "Wait, what's happening hyung?" He was still breathing heavily, his body tingling with the aftermath of their intense lovemaking.

"I didn't mean to... I didn't think it would happen like this," Kyungho said, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at Woonggi's body. His cum was leaking from Woonggi's ass, a thick, messy mixture of their combined fluids. Woonggi's body was a canvas of their passion, marked with bruises from Kyungho's rough handling, his hole stretched and filled with Kyungho's seed.

Then, he felt a sudden warm pressure inside his ass that was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"What the fuck, Kyungho? What just happened?" Woonggi asked, his voice a mix of shock and awe.

Kyungho looked down at the mess between Woonggi's legs, his eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. "Fuck, Woonggi, I'm sorry I didn't mean to piss. It felt so good I couldn't control myself," he apologized, his voice thick with regret.

Woonggi looked up at him, confusion and a little bit of amusement in his eyes. "It's okay, hyung. I didn't know it was a thing, but... it's kind of hot, isn't it?"

Kyungho's eyebrows shot up, surprise written all over his face. "You think this is hot?

Woonggi, I'm so fucking sorry I didn't mean to— "

Woonggi interrupted him with a laugh, shaking his head. "No, it's okay, really. It's a little weird, yeah, but...it's kind of hot, isn't it?" Woonggi said, his voice a soft whisper, his eyes locked onto Kyungho's. He could see the shock written all over Kyungho's face, the disbelief that he had just pissed on Woonggi during sex. But there was something about the intimacy of the act, the raw, primal nature of it that sent a thrill through Woonggi's body.

Kyungho's eyes widened in surprise, and then slowly, a slow grin spread across his face.

“You're right. I didn't expect it either, but I must admit, it feels fucking amazing," Kyungho said, his voice thick with lust.

Kyungho and Woonggi lay together after their intermate session while their bodies still humming with the echoes of their closeness. Kyungho’s chest rose and fell in rhythm with the pulse of his heart, his fingers lazily tracing the lines of Woonggi’s arm, committing the feel of him to memory. The air was thick with the warmth between them, a quiet kind of comfort that lingered like an embrace.

“Fuck, Woonggi,” Kyungho murmured, his voice soft but full of wonder. “I’m so lucky I listened to you tonight. I had no idea…” He trailed off, his words heavy with emotion as his eyes drifted from Woonggi’s face to their intertwined hands. Every nerve in his body seemed alive, his heart beating in time with Woonggi’s steady breath.

Woonggi chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the quiet of the room. A slight tremor passed through him as he shifted, pressing closer to Kyungho. He reached up, his fingers brushing across Kyungho’s chest. “I’m glad you found your way to me, hyung,” he whispered, his voice a mix of gratitude and something deeper. “I didn’t know if I could do this without you.”

Kyungho’s heart clenched at the raw honesty in Woonggi’s voice. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Woonggi’s forehead. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything unsaid between them. He rested his palm on Woonggi’s cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin beneath his fingers.

Woonggi closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of Kyungho’s touch. In that moment, he felt a sense of peace that had eluded him for so long. The noise of the world outside seemed distant, insignificant compared to the quiet intimacy they shared. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back to you,” Woonggi whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I was so lost, hyung. So, fucking scared...”

Kyungho’s thumb traced the sharp line of Woonggi’s jaw, his touch steady, reassuring. “I know, Woonggi. You were just trying to protect yourself, to protect us. But you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m here, and I’ll always be here for you.”

Woonggi opened his eyes, locking gazes with Kyungho. There was a vulnerability there, an ache that was finally being allowed to soften. “I know,” Woonggi murmured. “I’m lucky to have you, hyung. Even if it took us too long to figure this out…”

Kyungho smiled, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped Woonggi’s eye. “We’re lucky to have each other. And I promise, nothing will come between us again.”

Woonggi nodded, his expression softening. He leaned up slowly, brushing his lips against Kyungho’s in a kiss that was tender and filled with the weight of promises made. “No more secrets. No more running away.” The words hung in the air, a quiet declaration that everything had changed between them.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies pressed close, just savoring the silence, the comfort of each other’s presence. The world outside the rehearsal room seemed to fade away, leaving them in a bubble of warmth and understanding.

“I’ve missed this,” Kyungho whispered after a while, his voice barely audible, but filled with longing. “Just… lying here with you, talking about anything and everything.” His fingers gently traced patterns on Woonggi’s chest, the motion soothing in its simplicity.

“Me too, hyung,” Woonggi replied, his voice soft, content. “It feels so good to be close to you again.”

The tension that had once crackled between them—the unspoken fears and resentments—had melted away, replaced by a deeper understanding. They were no longer bound by the weight of their past mistakes; instead, they were woven together in the quiet space they had created. Woonggi glanced down at Kyungho, a playful glint in his eyes.

“You know, hyung, I never thought I’d say this, but…” Woonggi paused for dramatic effect, grinning as he propped himself up on one elbow, a mischievous spark in his gaze. “I’m actually glad we’re doing this show together.”

Kyungho raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Woonggi’s grin widened, and for a moment, he seemed like the carefree person Kyungho remembered from before everything had gotten so complicated. “Because it gave us this second chance,” Woonggi said, his voice softening as he reached out to run his fingers through Kyungho’s hair. “To reconnect. To figure out what we really mean to each other. I don’t think we’d have had this conversation if it wasn’t for ‘Universe League.’”

Kyungho’s smile softened, and he let out a quiet laugh. “You’re right,” he said, his voice turning serious. “This show gave us the chance to rediscover what we have. But we can’t let it control us. We have to remember why we started making music together in the first place.”

Woonggi nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “We can’t let the competition or the media take over. We have to stay true to ourselves. To each other.”

Kyungho sat up, his eyes filled with determination. “We’ve been through too much, Woonggi. Lost too much. I can’t let this show distract us from what’s really important.”

A quiet understanding passed between them as Woonggi reached for Kyungho’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “We’ve both made mistakes, but we can’t let those mistakes ruin our future. We need to focus on what we have now, on what we can build together.”

Kyungho nodded, his grip on Woonggi’s hand tightening. “I promise, Woonggi. I won’t let anything come between us again.”

There was a moment of silence, the weight of their promises hanging between them, before Woonggi finally smiled, his expression filled with warmth. “I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to cease to exist. It was just them, wrapped in a fragile cocoon of understanding and connection.

But just as the moment seemed to stretch on forever, a muffled sound from the corner of the room broke the silence.

“Hyung… I can’t breathe in this closet.” JL’s voice came in a hushed whisper, his breath shallow as he pressed himself against the cold, metal wall, trying to keep as still as possible.

Zhang Shuaibo crouched beside him, his face a mask of barely contained excitement. He gave a soft nod of agreement, his eyes wide with both fear and exhilaration. “I told you we shouldn’t have been nosy,” he muttered, though there was an unmistakable spark of disbelief in his gaze. “Still… that was too fucking hot.”

JL’s heart was still racing, his mind a blur of thoughts. “I can’t believe we just saw that,” he said, barely able to contain the excitement in his voice. “Cha Woonggi and Kyungho—together like that?”

Zhang Shuaibo looked up, his eyes wild with excitement. “I never thought they had it in them. Not like that. This is crazy.”

JL nodded, still panting from the rush of their shared secret. “I always knew they had something special… but that? I didn’t expect that.”

The two of them remained crouched in the corner of the storage closet, trying their best to remain unnoticed, their hearts pounding from what they had just witnessed. The air felt thick, charged with the secret they now held.