Candy
He liked candy, Jin discovered, Rock'N'Roll and candy, sprawled out on his back with his headphones on and candy wrappers all around him. New, old, somewhere in between; Jimmy Hendrix, Guns'N'Roses, Creed. Electric guitars and chocolate, drums and gummis, wailing voices and Hi-Chus. He would lay on his back on the floor, lost to the world, occasionally singing along, *loudly*, and rather off-key.
Jin had no taste for candy himself; Hwoarang made fun of the granola and organic dried fruit that comprised his sweets-collection. But the sugar made Hwoarang's mouth taste sweet, and the aftertaste of chocolate was quickly becoming foreplay. Jin didn't care too much for rock'n'roll either, he liked traditional asian instrumental music, or Japanese opera, or sometimes (just sometimes) techno. (XiaoYu had foisted that one on him; six CDs worth of MP3s, he was bound to like something, she said.)
Rock'n'roll, however, got Hwoarang's blood stirring, he said. When he was in a really good mood, he would get up and dance, badly for all that he was such a wonderful, graceful fighter. He would sing off-key at the top of his lungs, strut and gyrate in a way that made Ricky Martin look good and holding a melting chocolate bar in one hand like a messy, overgrown child.
Jin, who would inevitably be trying to meditate, or worse, practice his katas, suffered silently, simply trying to escape Hwoarang's notice. If, unfortunately, Hwoarang caught his eye-- well, then, all was lost. He would try to make Jin dance with him, which, without saying, was beyond hope. (Not entirely true, but he would never let on otherwise.)
As a last resort, he had turned to distracting Hwoarang. It started with a kiss-- chocolate flavored, smooth on his tongue. A kiss became kisses, kisses became caresses, caresses became tickling, tickling became wrestling...
Somehow, Hwoarang ended up on his back, earphones on, licking a smudge of chocolate off one side of his mouth, among a scattering of candy wrappers. Humming Lenny Kravitz while he rubbed his crotch up into Jin's and smirked triumphantly.
"Are you gonna go my way?" Kravitz belted, loud enough for Jin to hear, loud enough that Jin wondered how Hwoarang had any hearing left.
"Fuck me," Hwoarang said, lifting his hips a little, squirming.
Lenny's voice interrupted from the earphones. "So tell me why we got to die! And kill each other one by one!"
"Can you turn that off? It's really distracting."
Hwoarang only thumbed the dial louder. "You'll love this line:" he practically shouted. "'We've got to love and rub-a-dub! We've got to dance and be in love!'"
Jin tried not to groan; he took to his only escape. He leaned in and made a great big hickey (the size of Japan! Hwoarang would later say, Look at this hickey! It's the fucking size of Japan!) while he took one hand down and jerked the headphone jack out of the player.
"Hey!" Hwoarang yelped, and then: "Hey..."
Jin's mouth had found that good spot, just under his ear, the one that worked every bit as well as an off-switch to Hwoarang's mouth and an on-switch to his cock. "Hey" became "Hnnnn" became "Unnnnnnn..."
Under Hwoarang's back, the candy wrappers crinkled, first randomly, then rhythmically. Jin had meant to just distract him into silence, but even rubbing cock-to-cock through his sweatpants made his nerve endings fry and his mind fall apart. Next thing he knew they were humping through their clothes, grunting and fucking and rubbing, and it never occurred to him that he'd have a hell of a rash in a bad place later. Hwoarang's sweet sweet mouth stroked over his, his hips pumped and rolled up against Jin's, he ground and begged and pumped and rubbed and (are you gonna go my way) groaned out Hwoarang's name, coming so hard his body shook, coming so hard he barely noticed when his elbow landed in a half-eaten Yan-yan container.
They lay there panting, and slowly Jin noticed the crinkled plastic stabbing into his left cheek, and the chocolate... whateveritwas... smeared all over his elbow.
He also noticed his sweatpants were quite distinctly soggy.
"Ugh..." he managed, incapable of human speech at that point.
Hwoarang brightly grabbed his elbow, licked it clean, and rolled out from under him. Jin briefly entertained the notion of asking him to lick other parts clean, but he couldn't seem to find the words. "Mmnnngh... Hwoa..."
"Dibs on the shower!" Hwoarang called back, the headphones plugged in, something new and loud playing.
Jin fumbled blindly across the carpet, at first attempting to locate a clear spot to brace himself up, but instead finding his hand in a bag of gummies. Defeated, he popped a candy into his mouth and rolled on his back.
He supposed he could see the appeal.