Hyung..fuck! (yunki one-shot)

''baby you love it~''

The neon glow of the studio monitors cast long, moody shadows across the soundproofed walls. It was well past two in the morning, and the rest of the members had long since abandoned the company building to crash at the dorm. Only Jake and Ni-ki remained, tucked away in the back recording room, surrounded by half-empty iced coffees and discarded lyric sheets.

They had been working on a unit choreography project for days, pushing their bodies to the absolute limit. But tonight, the tension in the room wasn't about counts or angles. It was thick, heavy, and electric-a slow-burning friction that had been building between them for weeks.

Ni-ki was leaning against the edge of the mixing desk, his long legs stretched out, watching Jake replay a dance cut on his phone. The younger boy was flushed, his dark hair damp with sweat, his usual bratty confidence giving way to an intense, heavy-lidded gaze that tracked Jake's every movement.

Jake noticed. He always noticed.

Setting the phone face down on the couch, Jake stood up slowly. There was no hesitation in his stride as he walked over to where Ni-ki sat. Jake didn't play games when he wanted something; he moved with an undeniable, magnetic authority. He stopped right between Ni-ki's knees, reaching out to tilt Ni-ki's chin up with two firm fingers.

"You've been staring at me all night, Riki," Jake murmured, his voice low, smooth, and laced with an unspoken promise.

Ni-ki's breath hitched, his throat working as he looked up into Jake's dark, sharp eyes. "Can't help it, Hyung. You're making it impossible to focus."

A slow, wicked smirk touched the corner of Jake's lips. Without a word, he grabbed the front of Ni-ki's oversized hoodie, pulling the younger boy off the desk and guiding him backward toward the leather sofa in the corner. He pushed Ni-ki down onto the cushions, stepping over his lap to pin him beneath his weight.

Even with Ni-ki's taller frame beneath him, Jake completely dominated the space. He straddled Ni-ki's thighs, his gaze holding the younger boy locked in place while his hands made quick work of unbuckling Ni-ki's belt and stripping away their clothes.

Ni-ki reached up, his long fingers gripping Jake's hips, but Jake immediately pinned Ni-ki's hands flat against the couch cushions, leaning down to capture his mouth in a deep, hot kiss. The kiss was commanding, possessive, and demanding, swallowing Ni-ki's soft gasps as Jake dragged his tongue against his, setting a relentless tempo right from the start.

When Jake pulled back, his lips were slick and red, his chest heaving. He reached down, prepping Ni-ki's hard length with swift, practiced strokes before guiding the tip to his own slick, aching entrance.

Jake lowered himself down in one smooth, agonizingly deep movement.

"Ah-fuck!" Ni-ki hissed out, his back arching off the sofa as his hands gripped Jake's waist for dear life.

Without giving Ni-ki a single second to adjust to the overwhelming tightness, Jake began to ride him. He set a brutal, punishing pace-rising high on Ni-ki's lap before slamming back down with unrelenting force. The leather couch creaked loudly under the violent rhythm, skin slapping against skin in the quiet room.

Jake's head snapped back, his throat exposed as high-pitched, desperate moans tore out of him with every heavy drop. Yet despite the needy, wrecked sounds escaping his lips, Jake maintained absolute control over the rhythm, sinking all the way down to the base over and over again.

Ni-ki was completely overwhelmed. The physical sensation was so intense, the deep friction hitting his sweet spot so relentlessly, that tears of pure overstimulation began to pool in the corners of his eyes.