Chapter Text
"Jaaaaacob, I want Younghoonie in me now." Jacob's staring down at the camera settings, trying to figure it all out.
"Sure, sure", he mumbles as he starts a new reel of film. He doesn't want to look up. He doesn't want to see 3 men, two of them with their dicks flagging, and one of them lying down between them like a porcelain doll. So pretty, so precious, it has to be manhandled into position.
He doesn't remember what the proposed title for this one is. Bisexual Hot College Twink Threesome 3, or something. They tried to make the bed look like a messy, dishevelled sweat-rag (although considering New's demeanour, that wasn't difficult to achieve), and then Jacob set up the cameras.
And now he’s here. Still fiddling about with a roll of film.
"Sure okay, next scene," he looks up, "Younghoon, you can take Q’s place. Q, slide up to the top of the bed so New's face is in reach. New..." he falters. "Just keep... lying there."
New smiles back at him. He's always happy to do that.
"Okay and... action."
Jacob watches through his lens, occasionally tipping his head to see if there's anything worth zooming in on. Younghoon, surprisingly, doesn't need much instruction here. He just slides in and goes for gold. Q kneels at the top of the bed, awkwardly jacking himself off over New's face. New has that dumb, dick drunk look on him. Face flush. Drool almost, but not quite, coming out of his mouth. His hands scrabbling for anything he can get his hands on: blanket edges, hips, his own dick, other people's dicks.
Jacob hates it. But that's what the fans love, so he zooms in. You can just see the head of Q's dick outside the frame, when New closes his eyes. Q likes to joke about how he's going to beat his dick to death on camera one day. Jacob sometimes wonders if it's actually a joke.
"Younghoonie, ah, y-younghoo..." This is when New gets 'close'. He starts mumbling, a strange mix of garbled Korean and the few sexy English phrases he's learned. Dick dick dick. Cum in me cum in me cum in me. Jacob's learned to tune it out at this point.
Come on. He wants to go home.
At some point, he finally starts doing something with Q’s dick. Tries to stroke it and stick the head in his mouth. The faint sound of Younghoon’s balls slapping his ass red is but a distant echo. Everyone's finally going to cum. They'll all have their fantastic, explosive orgasms, and then Jacob can finally go home.
"Gakkaun.. ka... kima.. ki... ah... Youn.. mmhmp" judging by what's going on in the front view camera, Q's stuck his dick in New’s mouth again. Jacob prefers it this way. He thinks he might have been trying to say kimochi.
He makes the executive decision to have one final zoom on Younghoon, just before it all ends. His forehead is sticky with sweat. His whole body is sticky with sweat. But the final zoom on his dick going in out in out makes Jacob want to drop his camera and flee. It's red and sticky. It looks like New's been taken outside and flogged with a giant, testicle shaped paddle. And the smell.
Heavens above, the fucking smell.
New reaches down to touch himself. Jacob knows the cue. He zooms back out.
And hurrah. Everyone finally cums. New's load goes all over his chest (he remembers walking in before a shoot once, where New and Younghoon decided to have a 'cum shooting contest'. Back in his day, it was seeing how high you could piss in the urinals.) Q goes all over New's mouth and face. And Younghoon, for some reason, cums inside him.
Oh God, Jacob didn't do a condom check, did he?
But he's done all the post-sex shot anyway, so it doesn't fucking matter.
"Okay, clean up, and I'll go edit this at home. Thanks guys."
"No, thaaank you, Jacooob.". New's giggling now, and Younghoon's landed on a gross, damp heap on top of him. Q seems to be the only one listening to the 'clean up' part.
Whatever.
Jacob packs up his stuff and leaves.
-
He's home.
He's staring at wallpaper in silence, and he's home.
He’s alone.
He remembers the hell he went through when he thought about getting another person here. Someone to split the rent with. His name isn't known, but it's known. If you're in the right circles.
Or the wrong ones.
He got a lot of emails. A lot less phone calls. A lot of people thinking it might be something shady - because why would he demand a phone call? But that's understandable. Jacob was fine with that.
He got a call from some college kid. Kevin, he said his name was. Said he was born in Canada. Moved to South Korea to do... something. It seemed too good to be true - too close to home. Like he was trying to worm his way in. He first met him outside a library, a far distance from his apartment.
("Hah, you're actually pretty cool. Sorry, when I saw the advert, I thought it was gonna be something... weird?"
Both their faces faltered.
"Nah, n-nothing weird. Just... just... you can never be too careful, can you? In a big place by yourself."
"Yeah, you're right."
And then they smiled again.)
He moved his things in. He told Jacob he was doing a design course, while he tried to stuff a hundred sketchbooks into the spare closet. Something about playing the piano. He mentioned that he went busking when he seen Jacob's old guitar. ("Oh Lord above, oh fucking hell, he's here to become a kpop star.") He brought books as well, most of them about music and art. Jacob hated it. Hated him, but he smiled his way through it. He was just like him at one point. Now he just needed someone to pay bills.
He doesn't know where Kevin is now. You could occasionally hear him making a coffee, or you'd see the light of his laptop shining through the crack of his door. There was white silence when Jacob walked in after work.
There’s white noise now.
He stands up from his bed. Jacob finds himself walking to Kevin's bedroom door. Where he'd usually be, white silence thrumming in his ears.
He pushes the door. Just a little bit, still half expecting Kevin to be there. He's not. But he can see some clothes strewn on the floor. His laptop, turned off and unplugged, lying on his bed. The bookshelf that Jacob helped put up, with all his art books in place.
The Bible sticks out like a sore thumb.
-
"Hey guys, are we ready to-"
Jacob walks in to the sight of Younghoon bent over, New prodding him with all the expertise of a bull in a China shop.
"We just thought we'd get a head start. I wanted to see how this thing works.", New says, nodding towards Younghoon’s asshole.
It doesn’t seem to be working.
"Younghoon... hanging in there?" Jacob tries.
He's grimacing. "I thought this was meant to feel good?"
Jacob gives a knowing look. "Well, it can, if you do it slowly. But..."
Jacob flaps his arms in New’s direction. New doesn't notice, too busy staring down at his plaything. Younghoon laughs, and then grimaces again.
Jacob wants out.
"Where's Q?"
Younghoon makes a face of recognition. "Oh, Q, I think he's in the – OW."
Jacob bounds towards the other room.
"Jacob!" Q waves him in, music player in hand. "You've got to hear this! Hwasa just released a new song and it's so good, I've learned the dance already." Jacob doesn't get a chance to protest or ask who Hwasa is, he just stands dumb while Q sings his heart out. His voice belting 'neoneun meongcheongi' while Younghoon and New harmonise in the other room - complete with moans and giggles.
He thinks he hears New trying to chime in with 'naneun meongcheongi' at one point. Q and Jacob share a look, and then Q gets right back into dancing.
They don't film anything, but Jacob leaves with a great title for their next series.
Bottoms Continue to Say and Do the Stupidest Shit, Vol. 76
-
It's a few days later when Jacob walks into his front door. He looks down the hallway, to the sight of Kevin sitting at the kitchen table. That was new. Different. It's getting dark, and he hasn't bothered to turn on a light. Just a thin, bored face, illuminated by the sickle of light coming from his laptop.
He wonders if he's been at the student bar. He probably hasn't heard him come in.
Jacob pads along the hallway, trainers barely scuffing the laminate flooring. Is this new, is this different? Or has he just not been around that much? Is this what Kevin does when he's out filming?
He's at the doorway now (God, they really should get a door fitted here). Kevin hasn't noticed. His eyebags look worse close up. Should Jacob turn on the overhead light? One of the hallway lamps? Say hi?
His options run out before he gets a chance to evaluate them, coughing while he contemplates a lightbulb.
"Oh, hi Jacob!"
His head swivels to the sight of a disproportionately happy Kevin. His eyes are drooping with the force of keeping them awake, but the actual whites are glossed over. Yep. He was at the student bar.
Kevin notices that he's noticed.
"Oh sorry, did you want to sit here? I can just shift my stuff and..?" he makes a false start of lifting one of the books next to his laptop.
"No, no, you're fine... Kevin. I just wanted to make a cup of tea."
His relief is palpable.
Something's up.
He turns away from him, busying himself with the simple steps involved in making tea. Tea. Okay, first you get a mug. Then you open the tea cupboard, then you... which tea is his again? He buys the white teas you get at the supermarket. Kevin orders imported stuff from Canada and America. He bought French tea at one point, because apparently France has speciality teas. Probably costs him a fortune - what was it he said his parents did for a living, again?
He can feel eyes on him. Scanning. White tea it is, then.
He puts the tea bag in the mug. One of the sugar sachets he takes from coffee shops. Boils the- the kettle isn't full. He'll have to fill it up. He lifts the kettle and pours water in it.
He can still feel eyes on him. Waiting for him to look back at him: to say something? Make a mistake? Scald himself? Jesus Christ, he whispers in his head. Go to bed.
He turns on the kettle. Now he'll have something to listen to. The slow whistle of water boiling. He'll be able to feel steam on his face. Not eyes, looking at the back of his head, then down a bit lower. Not the slight feeling that if he were to turn around, he'd catch Kevin staring at his ass.
The kettle whistles and whistles until it explodes. Not in fireworks. Just the small ping that lets you know that the water is ready to be pours. Into the mug. To make tea.
He's making tea.
He lifts the kettle and pours.
"Jacob?"
Jacob watches the tea bag float to the top of the mug.
"Yeah?" He's still holding the kettle up. He should put it back in place.
It's heavy.
"I'm gay."
Is that it?
He bangs the kettle down and turns.
Kevin looks expectant. What’s he expecting?
He wants to laugh in his face, until the sound fills up the house. He wants to laugh until it paints over the wallpaper in the kitchen and the wallpaper in his room. Laugh until it fills the whole place and breaks the windows. The walls.
And then he'll run. He'll run until his feet hurt and he's out of this apartment. Out of this town.
Out of this fucking country, back to Canada.
"God, why does everyone look at me like that when I say it? I mean, I guess it's obvious, but shit, it's hard for me to say, and I was at the student bar today and I-"
"No, Kevin."
He stops mid ramble, like a scolded puppy who's afraid of getting hit.
"No, Kevin. I get it."
Now he just looks confused.
He remembers his tea. Takes the tea bag out. It's sat in for too long, too long for the way Jacob likes it, but it doesn't matter. Then he sits down in front of Kevin, the wall of his glowing laptop providing enough of a barrier.
He takes a big, disgusting slurp of his tea.
Still too hot.
"What do you mean you... get it?"
Now it's Jacob's turn to shrug. To pretend they don't know what they're talking about.
"I just get it."
"I, I, but you don't. I was at the student bar today and all of the guys there, they were just, they were just..."
Just what? What bar did Kevin find himself stumbling into? Probably took a left turn and tripped head first into one of those bars by accident. That'll be it.
"Were they... attractive?"
"Yeah."
Kevin looks at his hands, fidgeting with the cover his books. He doesn't touch the laptop. He doesn't have the protection of his usual mug of coffee glued to his hand. Jacob likes this feeling, almost. He wants to take another big sip of his tea. But then he'd feel like a dick. He already feels like a dad giving his unruly son a lecture. What was their age difference again? One year, or two?
"See? I knew you wouldn't. It was just, they were laughing and joking about stuff they'd seen on the internet, but you need to like, have a proxy or something so..."
White noise.
Is this it? Did he want his USB stick? His many gigabytes of the adventures of Younghoon, Q and New, in all the positions you can - and don't want to - imagine? Did he want him to teach him how to bypass a firewall and type in penis? In Hangul, of course. Would they search for 페니스 or 음경? Or 수탉 if they were feeling naughty. Maybe they could turn off the safe search filter. Wow, the possibilities are endless
"Kevin."
Kevin’s still mid-ramble, apparently.
He stops.
"Yes?"
"Do you know what I do for a living?"
Kevin just stares at him.
"I said, do you know what I do for a living?"
"I thought you said you were a freelance video director or something? You did college and then you came here and then you-"
"I direct porn, Kevin," he says, repeating himself as if he's just cursed. "Porn."
Maybe he has. Jacob wants to laugh, at the way Kevin's eyes widen.
"You really didn't know?"
"I- no? Should I have? Oh, it all makes sense now."
Jacob allows himself a small, snarling laugh at that. No. No it doesn't.
"Wait, so is it-"
"It’s gay porn, Kevin."
"Oh."
They sit in silence once more, Kevin seeming to slowly come around.
"So are you..." he lets the question hang in the air. With all the gravitas of their shitty, stainless steel kettle.
"Yes. Or at least I was when I came to Korea. But you get bored of it, Kevin." There's an interesting spot, in the corner of the ceiling, where Jacob thinks he sees light. "You get bored out of your wits. Day in and day out, it's just dicks." Probably a hole in the wall. "Dicks and cocks and cum everywhere. And it fucking stinks." He really should tell the landlord about these walls. "Just... do you know what an asshole smells like after it's been pounded for an hour straight? It's disgusting. I hate it. It was fun at first, when I started. But you get bored, Kevin. I'm bored of the guys." Or maybe he could fix that crack in the wall himself. "And I'm bored of the money too."
He dares himself to look back at Kevin.
His face is flushed, and his eyes are bright, just like what he'd seen when he walked in.
But it's different now.
It's not alcohol anymore.
It's what him and Q once jokingly called the 'nyu look'.
He waits.
"Uh. I need a, uh, shower? Do you need the... the toilet?"
The laptop goes into stand-by mode.
"No, I'm fine. Go ahead."
He ignores the fact that, during this whole ordeal, he's gulped down an entire mug of tea.
He also gives Kevin the courtesy of not looking at his crotch, when he eventually stands up.
-
Granted, he shouldn't have listened in. It was obvious what he was there to do.
But he needed the toilet. And you could hear the wet slap of skin over the sound of the shower. He'd have been able to hear it from his own room.
Probably.
He doesn't remember the last time he heard this. Someone enjoying it. Trying to keep themselves quiet.
He tries to imagine - is he slumped down, sitting there? Standing up and letting the water cover him? Using the flow to get himself started? He hopes he hasn't used any of his body creams.
He's apparently Canadian, like him. What does his dick look like, compared to his? Wait, that's awful to think about.
Don't think about that.
But it's over. Jacob's gotten too close. He can hear it all still. One final sigh.
It might have been Jacob, whispered.
The shower turns off.
Jacob should turn around.
Jacob should go back to his room now.
-
You - the reader, the voyeur - probably won't believe this, but he really did come to Korea to become a director. Take a year break from college. Travel a bit. Get in touch with his Korean heritage. See if anyone would be willing to work with a young adult who still stuttered in his native tongue. Silly, juvenile stuff.
He took some decent photos. Started a page. Toyed with the idea of phoning up people to do short films with. Something to show for himself. A portfolio for when he got back.
He got a phone call from someone called... he doesn't remember his name now. Choi something. He’d seen his page and was interested in a role. So, he invited him round to his apartment, where he had his filming and photography equipment.
30 minutes later, he had his jeans around his ankles and Choi Something bent over one of his tables.
He'd rebelled by suggesting college. He'd rebelled by doing photography instead of something viable. He'd rebelled by going to Korea for his travels.
But now? He was really rebelling.
And all with a camera in his hands.
Filming.
He was a new man, with a new man.
And this new man had friends he wanted him to meet afterwards.
Turns out, that stuff sells better than short films.
-
Kevin's in the kitchen when he gets up for work.
Why is he here? Doesn't he have college?
He glances at the calendar.
It's Saturday.
"Hey Jacob."
Kevin has his back turned, washing last nights’ dishes. To the right of the draining board, perfectly placed, is his mug. Spotless, shiny clean. If he strained, he'd be able to see the glint of Kevin's eye in its reflection.
He won’t.
"My name's not Jacob. Call me Jake."
Kevin snorts.
"Sure thing, Ishmael."
Jacob grabs his keys and storms out of the apartment.
Slams the door for added effect.
Fucking asshole.
-
"You're a twat, twat, twat, twat, I don't like you, nobody likes you."
Q has perfected the dance. Not so much the English lyrics. And now Jacob knows who Hwasa is, she's in some girl group. He's heard it on the radio often enough. Younghoon and New are giggling in the corner, watching Q together. Jacob must admit, he's a great dancer.
It's a shame dancing doesn't bring any profit.
He's made enough money to be able to rent a separate flat. A director's studio, in big fat quotation marks. The owner didn't care what they did, as long as they didn't give the area a bad name. The walls are soundproof enough. He's pretty sure they’ve all moved in by this point.
"Hi Jacob!" Younghoon waves, untangling himself from his friend, "What are we filming today?"
"Uh. I have an announcement."
Everyone stops. Even Q manages to stop dancing for a second.
"I want everyone to call me Jake now."
Silence.
Then the riptide. Q collapses, dancing forgotten, heaving with laughter. Younghoon looks like he's crying. New keeps trying to impersonate him, in between his bouts of screeching. "I've not got a bible name anymore!"
Another roar.
"I'm Jake!"
You give a man a house and this is how he treats you.
"Are you forgetting who runs this?"
They're still laughing, but they try to control themselves at that. At least enough for eligible speech.
"Sorry, Jake," and it's New half-panting again, because of course it is, "will I suck your dick to make up for it?"
"No, just fucking... get on the bed. Younghoon, Q, do whatever you do."
These vague instructions make sense to them. They start doing whatever it is they do, weird fleshy pirouettes on the bed. Jacob, ever diligent, films it. It looks like one of those Matisse reprints Kevin has in his room, those gross red bodies gyrating in a circle. He should tell him to take that down.
He zooms in, then zooms out, but he keeps looking at New. He's got this bright hair-dye thing going on. He told him it looked like garbage when he seen it. ("It washes out the rest of your face." "I don't care, I'm a model!") At some point, it stops looking like pink to him. It's red now. Red hair dye.
He's all skin and bones like him, too.
"Hey look," Younghoon says, and everyone slows down. Himself included. "Jaco- Jake's hard."
They start laughing again.
-
Sunday.
Sunday funday. Jacob doesn't have to run, day.
How does that song go?
He's been putting together Sweaty College Boys Go Nuts for Nuts #17. He doesn't like looking at the video too hard, but he knows what fans like. Close-ups of asses and chests. New's face. Q's dick. His dick which is much, much bigger than Younghoon's. It's a wonder why most of these shots are of Younghoon doing the fucking. People used to like seeing Q hump everything in sight.
Public taste changes, though. He knows all about that.
He can hear Kevin. Could hear him when he came in yesterday. He's not hanging around downstairs. He's been hiding in his room. That's not new.
What's new is the sounds.
He can't tell if he's doing it deliberately. If he knows he's listening. Knew he was listening outside of the shower.
When he got back home yesterday, his door was cracked open.
This time, he was there. Face buried in the pillows, turned away from the door. Knees bent at an awkward angle. Clothes still on. Hand working itself under his jeans. He couldn't see any lube around – was he doing this dry? Eyes scrunched up in concentration.
Jacob couldn't see the laptop anywhere. He left before he was noticed.
He's doing it now. Kevin's quiet, but Jacob knows what it sounds like. When he gets there. Gakkaun, he hears echoing around his brain, in a different voice. All it is, is a small grunt.
It's there, and he hears it over his headphones.
At least he has an excuse this time, if Kevin were to ever walk in his room. He knows what he does for a living now. He could say the video got him excited. It's explainable.
But he won’t. They both know he won’t.
-
"Fuck, Jake- Jacob, I'm so sorry, fuck, this is so embarrassing."
It's Monday. He should be at college, or uni. Whatever he does. Jacob drove to work. Walked in. You could hear the commotion from a mile away.
("I could have been a model!" "Well I used to be a model..." "Shut up, they're playing Ariana." And then the thumping bass of the stereo.)
He drove back, and here’s Kevin. Figurately caught with his pants down. Bent over, face buried in the sofa, trying to hump at the edge. His hands clawing at a pillow in an odd attempt to recreate what sex is meant to look like. Like that awful painting he has in his bedroom, that absurd tangle of red ribbons.
Now he's cowering at the edge of the sofa, using the pillow to cover himself.
They look at each other.
"Fuck, I'm, I'm really sorry, fuck, okay. It's just... sorry, when you told me what your job was it was like, fuck, I dunno. Cause I thought you were just like a teacher or something? I dunno you seemed really... traditional but I thought you were hot when we met and now- fuck."
Jacob remembers how old they are.
Kevin's 21, and he's 22.
Is that Korean age or rest-of-the-world age?
(He's filmed a hundred scenes like this. Back when it was this apartment, and it was dingy, awful point-of-view stuff. Actual home videos.
Younghoon looking up at him, glass-eyed, mumbling but I've never done this before. Bullshit.
He's only been in this country for a year.
It feels like forever.)
Kevin's hair is a bird's nest. Eyes spinning plates.
"God... s-shit, sorry, fuck Jac- Jake, I'm so sorry. Fuck. It's just... I don't know? It's like..." and he laughs. He sounds crazy. "I’ve never felt like this - it's like I've went into heat? That sounds stupid, fuck, but it's true. I can't stop. I start… touching and humping everything and I- I pretend it's you. I pretend you're there, b-behind me. Watching, or... oh God I'm making it worse, fuck."
What could he be making worse with this tangent? But Jacob looks away from his face. He's moved the pillow away, and his legs are spread.
He's hard.
Somehow, he's still hard.
Jacob can't stop staring.
"I... uh... Jake?"
Jacob craws towards him. On the sofa. He can't bring himself to look up again, but there's a dick that's hard and waiting. Jacob knows how to handle that.
He places his hand where Kevin's zipper is, below where his shirt rides up. He lets it rest there, feeling how Kevin's breath winds out of him. He's flesh and bone. Jacob should get more food in. Decent food, not just ramen and chips.
He draws his face back up. It's like Kevin's stuck in time. Not letting himself breathe. The wild look is there, but there's something else on top of it. Hope? Longing? "Stop teasing," he breathes out. Is this teasing?
It's not rhetorical any more.
"Ever had a handjob?”
He winces as he says it. Way to sound like a script, Jake.
"Y-yeah," he half nods his head and stops. Looks away. "No... no I haven't."
Way to sound like a script, Kevin.
But it's not a script.
You can't fake sincerity.
He starts fiddling with the zipper, dragging it up and down. Waiting.
"Can I?"
Kevin lets out a breath. A shaky little uhh.
Jacob takes that as a yes.
He's wearing... underwear. Bright red, so garish it hurts the eyes. And he's hard.
He reaches into the confines of the boxers and grabs it. Grips the base, like he had to do when he started filming. When he or whoever else was getting too eager.
Kevin sounds strangled. He looks up.
His whole face is flush now. A darker shade than his hair. His shirt is drenched in sweat. It occurs to Jacob - God, how long has he been like this? Like that? Humping the couch, waiting for something? For him to walk in, for him to not walk him, for him to cum and then clean it up -
To cum. He hasn't even come yet.
Jacob loosens his grip. Strokes him up and down. He knows how to do this part. He's completely dry, but his dick is so, so warm in his hand. It feels like he's having to milk the precum out of it.
He hasn't stopped looking at his face.
"Do you know what’d make this easier?"
He leaps off the couch before Kevin can answer, avoiding every mirror in the apartment. It's in his office desk. Lube. Untouched.
He really has been doing this dry.
When he gets back, Kevin hasn't moved. He's just staring at the tip of his dick. It's leaking now. He must feel him behind him. He turns around and looks back at Jacob, and then to the lube his fist is dangling in the air.
"This," and he lets himself laugh, "please tell me you know what this is."
"Yeah, but I thought that was for other stuff? Like when you put your fingers-"
"Shh."
He gets behind him now, kneeling. Pushes his back to rest against him. He squeezes a big dollop on his hand and tries his best to warm it up.
("What is the sound of one hand clapping?" he remembers an old tutor asking.
This, sunbaenim. It sounds like squelching and bated breath.)
He reaches down and grips his dick again. He realises too late that it's not his dominant hand, but Kevin doesn't seem to mind, sighing and letting himself fall back.
"Much easier, yeah?"
"Yeah."
They're both looking at his dick now, not looking at each other. The way the head gets engulfed by his hand, and then goes back down again. Like something ready to bloom.
It's methodical. He's done shoots where it's taken people hours to cum. It's fine. You just roll with.
When he chances a look at Kevin, his head is lolling on his shoulder. Red, but not as red as it was. A post-sex glow without the sex part. He tries to keep his half-lidded gaze on Jacob. To hold it.
"Jacob... Jake..."
And there’s the grunt.
Jacob's hand is sticky.
It’s when he washes his hands, that he remembers he never kissed him.
-
He’s deliberately leaving his door open. There’s no explanation for it.
“Shouldn’t you be at college?”
“Shouldn’t you be… mmph, working?”
There’s a new slickness to the sounds where there wasn’t before. A bottle of lube – Jacob’s lube – sitting on his bedside table, half finished. He’s been busy. The whole room stinks of one-sided sex.
“I’m freelance, I work when I want to.”
I work when I can put up with them.
Kevin raises an eyebrow.
“Well… a lot of my coursework is online, and, ugh,” there’s damp stains on his boxers, at the top of his jeans. Dried blotches on the blankets, where he’s wiped his hands clean. “I just have to attend a few lectures… the work is fine, but..."
He manages to stave his hand away and pull his boxers down, his wet dick slapping against his stomach with the force. Standing hard and proud against his skin.
He looks up, exasperated.
"How do I explain this?"
Something about the thought of Kevin walking into college with his nerves frayed, hormones running riot, makes Jacob's brain reel. Because of him. He's like this because of him. Kevin goes back to stroking himself, eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flaring. Jacob steps closer, until he's at the edge of his bed. Watching.
Kevin’s forgotten him, the speed of his hand causing his fingers to blur into one big, pink monolith. There’s no way this is enjoyable.
"Jake," Kevin hisses through gritted teeth, causing Jacob's neck to snap to his face. "Why are you like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like..." he turns away, whole body sinking into the bed with the force of his exhale. His hand slows. He hasn't came - no, the grunt isn’t there - but there's a slow resignation to his movements. "Like... you're a tease, Jacob."
Is he?
"I am?"
"Mmm." His hand is languid now, only making the tiniest bit of movement. "Wrist hurts."
It's a wonder his whole right arm hasn't withered up and died, if the shade of his dick was any indication.
Jacob keeps watching. Looking at where he's now running his fingers up and down his shaft. Round the head, prodding at the slit a little bit. Hissing, and then smearing the wetness back down again, cupping at his balls.
"Do you want me to..."
They share a glance.
Kevin looks surprised at the offer.
Jacob doesn't wait for an answer.
There's no finesse, nothing that would suggest he has a career in this, in the way he yanks down Kevin's jeans and kneels on the bed.
And there's no finesse in the way Kevin jackhammers his dick down Jacob's throat.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Kevin." Jacob's dribbling all over his shirt.
"S-shit, sorry, I wasn't expecting, I-"
Jacob takes him down again, slower.
He tastes like salt and sweat, plus the stale aftertaste of lube. He moans into it, pinning his hips down and taking it at his own speed. It's sloppy, thanks to getting choked. He manages to get his nose into the tufts of pubic hair, and then bobs. Up and down. Easy.
Kevin probably can't see him because of his fringe.
Good.
"Jake..." and he feels a hand sweep his hair back.
Well, so much for that.
He's awkwardly trying to rest on his elbows, one hand playing with his hair, tentative. Gazing down in curiosity.
Jacob holds it, starts moving slower again. Sucking up and down, then up again. Daring him.
To grab his hair, to force him down, to do something.
"Jake..."
He gets too lost in the motions to notice the way Kevin's chest clenches, or how the hand in hair tightens - just slightly.
It's only when he grunts, and something slightly saltier than flesh-and-lube starts spurting in his mouth, that he realises.
Oh.
There's a soft thud while Jacob finishes him off, milks him for all he's worth.
"Ghhh..."
Jacob's resting on the heels of his feet, wiping his chin. Making sure he hasn't got cum on the bedsheets. Cleaning bedsheets is a pain in the ass.
"Jake..."
Oh yeah, Kevin's here.
He looks at him.
He's got the post-sex glaze, but there's something else there. He's got something else he hasn't quite said.
Great.
"Can I... try it on you now? I mean, the sucking, the blowjob part... I-"
Jacob's attention turns to his own hard-on. Fantastic idea.
"Sure. I won't take long."
He hops off the bed and stands at Kevin's bedside. Not looking. He's not doing anything major, just getting his dick out. He's done this a million times, and about another million times with a hot, waiting mouth beneath him. It's fine.
It’s a shame this mouth sure does love to talk.
"Fuck, that's- do I put my mouth on it?"
He's acting like he's never sucked a dick before.
Jacob looks down. There's a laugh, a smile playing at the edge of Kevin’s eyes, and then he looks away again. Gazing at the bottle of lube.
"Sorry, I sound stupid, don't I?"
Holy shit.
He hasn't sucked a dick before.
"It's fine, Kevin... you can… start stroking it?"
For a man still in the 5 stages of post-coital bliss, he jumps at the instruction with speed. He squirts lube on his hands and kneels on the bed, balancing himself. He wraps his cold, sticky hands around Jacob, making Jacob jerk his hips.
And then... nothing.
Kevin looks up, confused.
It's Jacobs turn to laugh this time.
"I... do I just..."
"You can just do whatever..."
Kevin's still staring.
"No offense, but I'd like to cum, so..."
Kevin laughs, and then resumes eye contact with his one-eyed friend instead. He starts stroking it, slow, as if it might come alive to bite at him.
God, Jacob could blow his load all over his face right now.
"Mmmm..."
Kevin looks up again.
"Is this... am I doing it right?"
"Y-Yeah, fuck, I'm close."
With a new surge of confidence, Kevin starts tonguing the head a bit. Like he's trying to make out with his dick.
Of all the thoughts in the world, 'Kevin's making out with my dick' is the one that gets him there. Kevin splutters around him at the intrusion. He almost feels stupid as he closes his eyes and moans.
Almost.
A white flash of heat, and then silence.
He pulls his dick out. Out of wet warmth and into cold air.
Starts tucking himself in.
He's glad there's no cameras. If he leaves now, if he closes the door, maybe Kevin will stay exactly like this. Not moving, just slowly catching his breath. Gazing up at him, dribble and cum.
If he leaves now, it'll all be perfect. He can go to work tomorrow, and everyone will be none the wiser.
"Uh," and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Kevin copies, his whole face twisting to a grimace.
"Eugh."
Jacob’s face twists along with him.
"Sorry about that, I should've..."
“No, it's fine," and he looks away, smacking his lips. "I always wanted to... hah, to try it. That sounds dumb."
He closes his eyes and starts running his tongue over his lips. Trying to catch the stuff on his chin. Jacob feels like he's been glued to the carpet.
"Do you, uh... want a..."
A napkin? A cloth? A kiss? Come the fuck on. Get it together.
"No, it's fine. I'll clean up myself."
He's looking up again. Smiling.
"Thanks, Jake!"
The door doesn't make a sound when Jacob manages to leave.
-
The three of them are in the filming room, dancing. It sounds English, what they're singing along to.
"It's the new Ariana album!" Q shouts, as if the name means something. "Wow, Jacob, you are old."
The song's about being grateful for your ex, he gathers as much. Not one of them are in sync. They're all doing a mish-mash of random moves they've learned over the years. If this was a dance off, Q would win. If this was a who-can-make-the-biggest-ass-out-of-themselves contest, Younghoon and New had it in the bag.
The song finishes.
New and Younghoon collapse in a heap. Q is still standing.
"Well, any video ideas today?"
Jacob's one vice is that he can't lie. Especially when he's put on the spot.
Especially when it's Q.
"...no."
He looks baffled.
"We've been filming stuff ourselves," Younghoon chimes from somewhere
"Yeah, me and Younghoonie-hyung have been trying out ideas."
New waves his hand to his office room. His computer is logged on, and their site is up.
Cool. If they want to keep contributing to The Smelly Dumpster Fire Chronicles, good for them.
Maybe he can show it to the owner if he asks for eviction.
-
(He remembers when they'd just got their 'studio'. They filmed their first attempt at a bukkake scene. They hadn't foreseen the need for towels, or blankets, or pillows. It was just New kneeling on the floor, Q and Younghoon each side, and Jacob filming.
He can't lie. He liked it. Liked watching New fumbling with 3 zippers, sloppily trying to give them all a shot of his hands and his mouth. He especially liked it when his mouth was focused on him - messy before the actual finale, with his own dick hard and sad between his legs.
He loved watching it all through his camera, feeling taller. Bigger than.
Younghoon didn't warn him before spraying his load. New quickly had to drop the dick in his mouth - Jacob's dick - to tend to it. A bit of it caught on his face, most of it in his hair. New sucked him through it. Squelching and swallowing until Younghoon, boneless, had to push him back.
It was easier, and a lot better, with only two for him to focus on. Held eye contact with the camera. Them. Would bend his head and try to suck on Q's balls while jerking them both off. Then he'd switch. Then go back to what he was best at - sucking. At one point he'd tried to stick both heads in his mouth. That looked amazing on screen.
He got Qs load second. Q had the manners to warn him, a short grunt of him name. You could see the shape of his dick through the hollow of New's cheeks. And he kept sucking, even when Q pushed him away. Causing him to land on his ass, back slamming against the laminated flooring.
There was a great power in the way Jacob kneeled over him. Wedged his knees in under his armpits and started stroking himself, all while holding the camera in his hand. Smacking the head across his lips and smearing the rest of the cum over his cheeks.
"You can take one more, can't you?"
New nodded, dazed. He didn't move his arms, he just stared up, only closing his eyes when Jacob would slap a bit too hard - a bit too close to his eyes.
"Of course you can."
And then his tongue poked through. Licking where it could while Jacob jerked himself off. Slow and steady. He wasn't in a rush.
"Can I... mphmph"
"What was that?" A big smack, right on his lips.
"Mppphpm," there was a string of saliva between them when he tried to speak, "wanna... touch myself."
Smack.
"Wanna cum..."
Then it's Jacob's turn.
It went all over his face. A big jet right over his eye, then a spurt on his mouth. Some on his cheeks, running down his chin. New was still moaning, but different this time.
He swiped the glob on his left eyelid off. Smeared it on his hair, where Younghoon's has dried.
Jacob stood up.
"C'mon. Make yourself cum, then. If you want your money."
He fumbled his way onto his bruised knees again. He looked even smaller. Smaller than he did before.
But he was still hard.
He ran his fingers through his face, collecting it all. Picking up the stuff that had landed down his chest, on his neck. Spit it all over his hand, then jerked himself. Fast and hard and painful.
"He sounds like a bitch in heat," someone out of frame said. Someone laughed.
"Yeah, give her a bone. One up her ass this time. Maybe that'll fix it."
Jacob's cock started stirring at that.
"Mmmm.... hahh... uhhh......"
He squirted all over himself. Onto the floor. They made him lick it up. Even the stuff in his hand.
The way it shown up under the lighting was fucking gross. It was like a dog pissing on something to mark its territory, Jacob thought, after he’d finished editing it. He felt dirty. Disgusting.
To this date, it's their bestselling film.
Don't ask him for the title.)
-
"Since your erectile dysfunction is cured," he's sniggering, "maybe we could film a scene?"
Jacob stands listless, looking at the pink blob of hair through his camera. He's mouthing at his dick through his pants, pulling out every trick he knows. Blinking up innocently, then pulling the zipper down with his teeth.
Teeth.
The zipper gets caught halfway.
Yesterday.
Kevin's teeth dragging over him, just a little bit.
"Fuck off."
"Ooh, dominance, I like it."
"I mean it."
New looks up.
"Sure thing. Hey, guess what?" he shouts into the other room, "Jake's dick is private property now!"
Younghoon and Q appear at the door, expecting to laugh.
There's no joke.
When he looks at Younghoon, he sees fear.
Q; he sees knowing.
-
When Saturday evening rolls its head, Jacob's not surprised at the sight of Kevin in the kitchen. He's bumbling around the food cupboards and laughing, looking for nothing.
Kevin doesn't hear him pad his way in. It takes a few seconds of blinking through his stupor to register him.
He laughs through a mouthful of cereal, choking it all down. "Jake! Jake, hi, I was just..."
Jacob ignores him, pulling his head down to meet his.
It's chaste. Barely there. Something Pavlovian comes over him, the urge to dominate, but it gives way.
Their lips move slowly. Jacob doesn't give himself the chance to savour it. One peck, and then he pulls back. The lingering taste of liquor on his lips is reassuring. He can carry it with him; a reminder that Kevin won't remember in the morning.
He's kissed him now. He's made up for the time before, and the time before. They don't need to talk about it.
"Jacob?"
He pretends not to hear, taking himself to his room.
-
Kevin's forgotten to turn the calendar, which proudly proclaims that it's Saturday. Bleary eyed, nursing a cup of coffee to his chest.
"Are you working today?"
Their eyes meet over the rim. Kevin takes a small sip.
"I don't know. I might."
He busies himself with making lunch. As if it's something ordinary he does when he goes outside. As if he'll go to work.
He doesn't say goodbye as the door closes.
He'll let the car drive today. It can decide where he goes.
-
Jacob doesn't know why he bothers.
The whole apartment smells like ass.
What’s that old saying? Don't eat where you shit? Don't shit where you eat? There's plenty of both going on, if the stains are anything to go by. There's dried spunk where there wasn't before.
“제이콥!” something shouts at him.
He'll figure out the saying when he drives back home.
-
He is sitting in a room, different from the one you are in now.
Sitting in a parking lot, halfway between work and home. Kevin and them. Here and now.
He sits. Parked. Taking in the people walking past; the people driving in and stalling, then stepping out in suits and ties. The teenagers walking aimless, grouped in cliques of three and four. The occasional two. There's no point counting, most are just gaggles of heads. Jaws flying, mouths whirring at a thousand miles an hour.
Sound penetrates glass, he's come to learn. Snatches of words. It's never quite enough to make out conversation. Korean. A bit of Chinese and Japanese. A few students practising their English. How is the weather where you are?
People start looking back. He's been sitting, staring blankly, straining for words for - how long now? How many hours, how many wasted days? Maybe they know who he is.
He lets his phone ring out. Until it dies, or until the other side hangs up, he's not sure. When he picks up, it’s black.
Black noise. He puts the phone back down. Turns the key in the ignition. Let’s the motor run for a little bit, blotting out the empty in his head.
And then he drives back home.