Chapter Text
Suho strips out of his blue windbreaker and Sieun watches, guiltily, with the rapt attention of a voyeur peeking through a peephole.
“It’s getting cold out there,” Suho complains as he drapes the jacket across Sieun’s bed, “I almost froze my ass off taking an order to Yeongdeungpo. Look, my fingertips are turning blue.”
He holds up his hands for inspection, but Sieun doesn’t see blue.
Instead, he sees golden brown skin, long, slender fingers, and a tracery of veins that lead up to strong forearms and even stronger biceps.
Sieun can’t focus.
Over the past few months, he’s developed an inexplicable fixation on Suho’s bare skin.
It came out of nowhere one afternoon, when Suho decided to take a shower at Sieun’s apartment. This was normal. Suho did it pretty frequently, since Sieun’s place is closer to the gym than his grandmother’s house.
He walked out of the bathroom, in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips, water dripping down his toned pecs and abdominal muscles, and asked Sieun if he had a spare t-shirt he could borrow.
Something happened to Sieun at that moment.
His mouth went dry.
His heart started racing.
And when he tried to speak, nothing came out.
Sure, he’d seen Suho in various states of undress before — shirtless, pantless, sometimes both at the same time, because Suho is shameless about that sort of thing, but Sieun had always been careful not to pay too much attention.
Suho's casual nakedness made him feel like his blood was running hot, hyper aware of every little micromovement and expression he made.
He didn’t like that feeling, so he ignored it.
But it was getting harder and harder to ignore.
The angle of Suho's collarbones.
His muscular thighs flexing beneath his gym shorts.
That sliver of bare stomach that appears between his jeans and t-shirt when he stretches.
Sieun can't get enough.
There’s no logical explanation for this behavior either. Sieun checked. All the responses online were extremely unsettling. Words like attraction and crush kept appearing, so he resolutely shut his computer and tried his best to forget about it.
“—Earth to Yeon Sieun?”
Sieun blinks. “What?”
Suho is sprawled across Sieun’s bed now, his head propped up with one hand. He looks like the poster boy for rest and relaxation. At some point, he must’ve climbed onto the mattress while Sieun was staring into the void.
“You were spacing out for a solid two minutes just now,” He says, frowning, “Come take a break and cuddle with me.” Suho pats the bed next to him with an insistent pat, pat.
Sieun's heart gives a little jolt.
He spins back around in his desk chair and picks up his pen. “I don't have time for your games today. I have work to do.”
“This isn’t a game, Sieun. I think I have hypothermia,” Suho continues in a serious tone, “I can't stop shivering. I heard the best way to share body heat is to take off all your clothes and use as much skin to skin contact as possible. As my best friend in the whole world, isn’t that the least you can do?”
Sieun doesn’t respond. When Suho wants attention, you can't give him even an inch, or he'll run with it.
Instead, Sieun refocuses on the text in front of him. He’s supposed to be translating this sentence into English, but somehow, he ended up writing down suho instead of the word soon.
Sieun crosses out the mistake so aggressively it tears a hole through the paper.
“Did you know that cuddling releases oxytocin, also known as the love hormone?”
Sieun sighs. This guy is relentless.
“It reduces stress and promotes feelings of trust and relaxation," Suho says, "I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a conducive learning environment to me.”
Unable to resist the obvious bait, Sieun half turns in his chair to look at the other boy. “Did you just look that up on Google?”
Suho puts his phone down, smiling benignly, “Maybe.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
The corner of Suho’s mouth lifts up in a lop-sided grin, more wolfish than benign now. “So? What do you say?” He pats the bed again, eyes crinkled mischievously. “Wanna make love hormones with me?”
Sieun's ears prickle with heat. Make love. Suho thinks he’s so funny. “No, I don't.” He replies gruffly, turning back towards his work. He should’ve never looked at Suho in the first place.
Now his heart is going to be jittery for the next ten minutes.
“Hmph.” The bed creaks. In the corner of Sieun’s eye, he can see that Suho’s rolled over onto his other side and grabbed his phone. His cheeks are puffed out a bit, and his lower lip is protruding.
He’s pouting.
Sieun feels the tiniest pang of guilt before he notices that Suho’s shirt has risen up in the back, the bumps of his spine visible before they disappear under the white fabric.
His fingers twitch.
For a second, he imagines himself getting up and laying down beside Suho. What kind of expression would he make? Would he be surprised? Pleased? Would Suho wrap his arms around him? Would he let Sieun touch him too?
The thought of touching and being touched. It sends an electric thrill through Sieun's body, coursing through his veins like a live wire.
No.
Sieun tightens his grip on his pen.
He can’t think like that. He shouldn’t think like that.
Study. He needs to study.
An hour passes. Then another.
Suho watches YouTube videos on his phone, the companionable silence between them punctuated every now and then with his soft laughter.
Sieun steadily works through the rest of his English assignments, albeit a lot slower than usual.
His mind is still too frazzled to concentrate on syntax and grammar rules. Not when his biggest distraction is only a couple feet away.
Sieun glances at the analog clock on the wall. 12:07 am.
It’s getting late.
He pushes back from the desk and rolls his neck back and forth, stretching the sore muscles. He’ll study for another half an hour, then turn in for the night.
“Does your neck hurt?” Suho asks.
The sudden question makes Sieun jump. He didn’t think Suho was watching him so closely.
“A little,” He admits, “I think I slept wrong last night.” His neck has been bothering him since this morning. It probably doesn’t help that he’s been hunched over his desk all day.
The bed creaks.
Suddenly, there are hands on his shoulders, warm and big and heavy, squeezing gently, heating the skin up under his t-shirt.
Sieun freezes. “What are you doing?”
His nervous system is going crazy. Alert. Alert. Alert. Ahn Suho is touching you. Alert. Alert. Alert.
“I’m giving you a massage,” Suho says, like it's obvious. He starts kneading his thumbs into the muscles in slow, circular motions, causing Sieun to stiffen even more. “I give Halmeoni massages all the time for her arthritis. She says I have magic hands.”
Sieun doesn’t want Suho’s ‘magic hands’ anywhere near him. He can already feel the start of a shiver snaking up his spine as the other boy’s thumbs work their way up his neck in long, light strokes. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down.
Almost like he's teasing.
Sieun’s nape grows hot, skin tingling behind his ears.
Suho can probably see the blush spreading across his neck, climbing down his collar and into his hairline, which makes the blood rush to Sieun’s head even faster.
His knee jerk instinct is to pull away, but Suho holds fast, pushing Sieun back down so that his butt thumps back into the chair. “Sit.” Suho orders. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“It’s not going to work,” Sieun protests weakly, fidgeting in the chair, “I've tried everything.” He took painkillers and applied a pain relief patch earlier in the day with no luck.
“Well, you haven't tried me yet.” Suho says.
His hands slide up Sieun’s neck, thumbs still moving in gentle circles, steadily increasing pressure with every pass. Sieun tries not to think about the rough calluses on Suho’s fingers or his pulse flickering at lightning speed.
He tries not to think about anything at all.
Sieun should shake Suho off. Tell him to stop distracting him from his work. But it feels good.
Really good.
“You have a huge knot right here,” Suho says in a hushed tone. “This might hurt a little. Bear with me.”
Sieun winces when he digs his thumbs into the spot, hard enough to make his body sway forward.
“Ah,” He gasps.
It does hurt.
Bit by bit though, the contracting muscle loosens, then relaxes.
And the pain evaporates.
Sieun's eyelids flutter.
If Suho wasn't holding onto him, he'd slide right out of the chair.
During his research, he read about something called skin hunger. People are hardwired from birth to crave the touch of another human being.
Sieun can’t remember the last time his parents touched him. When he was a kid, probably. And even then his mother wasn’t big on hugs or physical affection. Sieun’s dad would sometimes pat him on the back or the shoulder. That was about it.
Sieun thought it was silly.
How could he miss something he never had?
But maybe that’s all this is.
Sieun’s body is starving. For affection, for physical touch. A pathetic side effect of his upbringing, but one that’s obviously affecting him way more than he thought.
His head falls back against the chair, completely slack, mouth dropping open slightly as Suho’s hands trail down to his shoulder blades. Deep, slow circles. Round and round. Round and round.
“You feeling relaxed yet?” Suho's low voice floats down from the clouds.
Because that’s where Sieun is. In the stratosphere, somewhere between heaven and Ahn Suho.
“Mm.” The breathy, quiet sounds that escape his lips might've been embarrassing if he wasn't busy melting into Suho's touch like warm butter.
“What was that?” Suho asks smugly. “I didn’t quite catch it.”
His superior tone shocks him back to reality immediately.
Sieun's eyes snap open.
Suho is staring straight down at him, grinning from ear to ear.
Oh god.
Sieun wants to die.
“It's not working,” He lies, flustered. “I think your magic hands are broken.”
The slurring gives him away. It totally worked. His hands are 100% magical.
“Uh-huh,” Suho laughs, “Is that why you were purring like a cat with your eyes closed?”
“I wasn't purring!” He retorts.
Still smirking, Suho taps the tip of Sieun’s nose with his index finger. “Whatever you say, kitty.”
Now it's Sieun's turn to hmph. He folds his arms across his chest, equal parts annoyed and mortified. Suho’s never, ever going to let him live this down. He needs to sort this whole touch-starved thing out before he starts Googling the pros and cons of nightly massages and cuddle sessions with your best friend.
“Hey,” Suho says, resting his hands on Sieun’s shoulders again.
Sieun is about to pull away for real this time, Suho’s superhuman strength be damned, but the teasing lilt has left his friend’s voice. He sounds oddly serious.
Sieun tilts his head up to look him in the eye. He’s still blinking slow and sleepy, fighting off the lingering effects of the massage. Fuck. Maybe he is a cat.
Suho’s throat bobs. “Let’s go to the hot springs.” He says, his voice rougher than it was a second ago.
“What?” Hot springs? He’s never mentioned it before.
“My grandma’s friend owns a bathhouse in Gangwon-do,” Suho explains, “I bet she’d let us stay there at a discount.” He’s rubbing Sieun’s shoulders, this anxious back and forth movement like he’s trying to soothe himself more than anything else.
Sieun squints, suspicious, “Where’s this coming from?”
Suho’s nervous energy is making him nervous.
He shrugs. “It’s winter break. We should relax and have some fun before the spring semester starts.”
“Is Youngyi coming too?” Youngyi always gets annoyed when they hang out without her. Last time Suho posted a picture of Sieun at the arcade on Instagram, she said she felt like Caesar when Brutus stabbed him in the back.
“Nah,” Suho says. “Just me and you this time.”
Sieun stares, searching his face for clues.
Suho swallows again.
Bizarrely, he thinks about Suho in the towel. The cut lines of his hip bones. His back muscles shifting, water droplets clinging to his hair.
Sieun is sick. Really sick.
“Can't,” He says, looking away. “I have to study.”
“Ah come on, don’t be like that,” Suho grouses, jostling Sieun, “We’ve barely hung out at all since the break started.”
"You'll live." Actually, Sieun might be the one who dies.
Without warning, Suho leans forward and wraps his arms around him, tucking his chin over his shoulder. “Please, Sieun." He whines.
When Suho starts the pouty theatrics, it usually doesn’t take long for Sieun to give in. But the truth is, he’s a coward.
For starters, they’re going to be naked.
Sieun's never seen Suho completely naked before, or vice versa. Given his current state of mind, he isn’t sure what that’s going to do to him and he doesn’t want to find out either.
Sensing Sieun’s hesitation, Suho starts to draw back, “If you really don't want to, it's okay. It was just an idea.”
The disappointment in his voice is clear.
Immediately, Sieun feels bad. He shouldn’t let his strange urges get in the way of their friendship. It’ll hurt Suho’s feelings.
“I'll do it,” He says quickly, guiltily, “Let's go to the hot springs.”
Suho brightens, “Really?”
Sieun nods.
Suho is back on him in seconds, knocking Sieun forward, practically tackling him into the desk.
“Suho.” Sieun chastises. He's like an over excited dog, jumping all over his favorite human.
This human in particular feels like he’s going to burst into flames.
“Whoops, sorry.” Suho laughs, picking up a toppled pencil case with one hand before wrapping it back around Sieun’s torso. The position can’t be comfortable, having to bend over the back of the chair like that, but he nuzzles his face against Sieun’s anyway, rubbing their cheeks together. “You won’t regret it, Sieun-ah, I promise.”
Sieun hums. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the warmth of Suho’s embrace, the way he’s squeezing him extra tight.
He doesn’t reciprocate though. He just sits there, without moving or breathing, silently combusting on the inside.
Sieun hopes he doesn’t regret this.