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Juyeon will never miss being roommates with Sunwoo.
It’s only on mornings like this when he wakes up feeling like death slowly heating up in a broiler, eyelids so heavy they’re weighed shut, that he wishes he still had the luxury of sending Sunwoo telepathic signals to throw him some of the Advil he keeps under his small but mighty mountain of dirty clothes and dishes.
He just woke up but he feels a familiar restlessness swimming through his veins. It’s been like this for weeks. He thought finally getting a room to himself would mean uninterrupted sleep and endless serenity, but it feels like the walls are closing in on him with every new day. All last week he had nightmares, each one of them jolting him to consciousness with the heavy pressure of suffocation. Yesterday he woke up with all of his clothes strewn across the floor, his blanket pushed to the bottom of the bed. Today he’s sweating everywhere. He has enough will to check his phone—it’s below freezing outside.
And just like every single morning since he’s moved into his room, he’s hard. He figures it’s his body celebrating the newfound freedom. It doesn’t make sense any other way. Every morning he wakes up head spinning, limbs filled with lead, all the blood in his body pooling south. He can’t think straight, can’t even switch his alarm to snooze without getting a hand on himself first. It’s senseless. He has to. He needs to. It doesn’t fix the restlessness, either. It barely clears the haze from his brain. He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this disconnected from his body, like it can do whatever it wants and he has no choice but to listen.
Juyeon breathes in deep, tries to ground himself. He can get up right now. He can get up and leave this room right now. His spine is fused to the mattress. His head is spinning. He looks at his hands—he’s shaking. He can get up. He can—
He can’t.
He can’t do anything but shove a hand down his pajamas, jerking himself off fast and frantic, so desperate he thinks he might die if he stops for a second. He’s already wet, the head of his cock slick with precome that makes the slide of his hand so much easier. He can’t stop. He plants his feet on the bed and pushes his hips up, fucking into his hand. It’s not enough but he needs to keep going, needs to chase the feeling, needs to get rid of the heat consuming his entire body. His hand is flying and it only takes one, two, three more strokes before he’s curling into himself, muscles clenching as he comes so hard that it knocks the breath out of his lungs, sending him off balance so violently it’s almost unsatisfying.
He lays there after, heartbeat ricocheting around in his skull, cock still in his hand, thick ropes of come staining his shirt and pooling in his belly button. He can get up, now. But.
He’s still hard.
He stumbles out of his room half an hour later, feet dragging, able to stand now that the vibration underneath his skin has dulled to a faint buzz. Coming two more times might have something to do with it. He doesn’t think he’s actually getting sick, but it’s been a hectic week and he's tired. Maybe it’s only been this bad because he's been spending so much time awake and wired after schedules. Maybe it’ll finally clear for good if he just gets something in his stomach, hops in the shower with the heat as high as it can go, and heads back to bed to sleep the feverish feeling off.
It’s already loud in the living room when he enters. Jaehyun and Haknyeon are armed with controllers and shouting out random commands, standing side by side like they’re in the line of duty. Unsurprisingly, Youngjae is right behind them, most likely recently evicted from the other dorm for being too loud too early. Here he doesn’t get to game until everyone else has died three times over, but it never stops him from backseat driving until it’s his turn.
Juyeon knows he can’t walk past the living room to either the kitchen or the bathroom without being noticed, but he tries his best, moving swiftly and ghostlike close to the wall.
Youngjae spots him immediately. “Hyung!”
Juyeon stops in his tracks, cursing silently in his head. He can’t go to the kitchen now. Youngjae will have questions and right now Juyeon doesn’t have any answers.
When Juyeon turns around, most of his body still angled away because he's somehow still half-hard, Youngjae is looking at him with a grin on his face. Youngjae smiles at him like this all the time, even has smiles that are only for him, yet when Juyeon sees him now it almost bowls him over.
"I'm hungry," Juyeon says, because he can't think straight and he can't look Youngjae in the face and feel the warmth radiating from him across the room without his brain flashing extremely vivid images of his dick in Youngjae's mouth. He's losing it. Food. Shower. Sleep. He'll be fine soon.
He was expecting Youngjae to follow him into the kitchen, but he wasn't prepared for the aftermath where Youngjae's standing so close to him that he can feel his body heat, the inevitable reach of Youngjae's hand to his shoulder, and opening the fridge and being met with 30 bottles of the same protein shake.
Really. What's the point of a protein shake when it won't give him what he needs. Instead, he could lean into Youngjae, lick a stripe up his neck, hold him in place and bite—
No. He uncaps a protein shake, downing most of it in one go.
He can feel Youngjae watching him intently, and it feels a lot like being naked. Which makes him think about actually being naked, which makes him almost choke on the shake.
"Are you good?" Youngjae finally asks, peering into Juyeon's eyes. He moves his hand from Juyeon's shoulder to press at his forehead. "Hm. You're not hot. I mean - you don't have a fever or anything."
"I'm okay." Juyeon mumbles.
Youngjae puts the back of his hand on Juyeon's forehead again, apparently unconvinced that he's not dying. When there's no change he slides his hand down to Juyeon's jaw, cupping his chin and turning his face to get a better look. Every different spot he touches sends chills down Juyeon's body, goosebumps rising all over his skin. He feels like he should be locked away, not fit to interact with anyone until he gets this under control, but maybe Youngjae knows what he's doing.
"I dunno," Youngjae says, hand settling on Juyeon's neck. "You seem off."
Youngjae's fingers on his pulse point make him trip over his words. He blinks, trying to will the urge to press Youngjae up against the fridge door away. "I'm going to. Bathroom. I'm going to shower. In the bathroom." He jerks a thumb behind him and does a 180, leaving Youngjae in the kitchen with his hand in the air.
He has to speedwalk past the living room again, head hung low to avoid Jaehyun and Haknyeon's attention, but he's booking it so fast that they don't even see him.
Taking a shower does absolutely nothing to cool him down, but he's able to think straight for longer than half a minute so he'll take it as a win. Now he can dive back in bed and sleep it off. If he's lucky it'll be Youngjae's turn to play and he won't be looking for him.
“Oh,” Youngjae sputters when Juyeon opens the door to his room.
Juyeon only has a towel wrapped around his hips because his only plan after escaping to the bathroom was hinging on Youngjae being occupied. The buzzing under his skin is already coming back, faster than it usually does, the low thrum now sending sparks up his spine every time he closes his eyes for too long.
Juyeon can't deal with this right now. He turns his back to Youngjae, pretending to rifle through his drawers looking for clothes. Less than a minute back in his room and he feels the pull again, the way the room’s energy latches on to the fibers of his skin and tugs, spreading him thin. It’s only a matter of time before he’s hard again. He wasn’t expecting Youngjae to be here, on his bed, leaning back on his hands with his legs spread wide, shorts hiked up his thighs, seated in the center of the mattress like it’s the only place he belongs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Youngjae asks from behind him. “Jaehyun hyung wanted to come and check on you, but I said I would.”
Juyeon can hear Youngjae shifting on the bed. The very same place where Juyeon was earlier, still so turned on after two orgasms that the third only took one hastily lubed finger and thirty seconds. He’d had his face jammed in his pillow, ass in the air, clenching with greed in search of an impossible satisfaction. Sure, he came, and sure, it took the feverish sweats away for a bit, but it did nothing to quell the deeper desire swirling in his gut.
And what can Juyeon even do. Youngjae's convinced he's dying, which he might be, and he's not going to leave him alone until he's sure he's fine. So. He turns around.
There's a split second where he realizes that he's hard enough for it to be visible in his towel, but by the time that thought registers he's already facing Youngjae head-on.
"It's my dick." Bandaid ripped off.
Youngjae blinks at him.
"Your—?" Youngjae's eyes move faster than his mouth. Juyeon's cock twitches, the attention reminding him that he's going to need an intervention soon.
"Yeah." Juyeon squirms under Youngjae's laser sharp gaze. "It, like, won't go down."
“Is it because of—“ The silent me dies on Youngjae’s lips. He's probably thinking back to Juyeon's quick exit from the kitchen. He looks so hopeful, hands twisting in Juyeon’s sheets. He has big hands, long fingers. His strong arms are on display again. He hasn’t worn a shirt with sleeves in weeks, actually. Juyeon wonders what the calluses on his palms from weightlifting would feel like on his skin.
“I don’t think so.” Juyeon answers, blinking back up to Youngjae’s face. It’s only because he spends so much time watching Youngjae watch him that he sees the small flicker in his expression. “I can’t really control it.”
“How long has it been going on for? Are you sick? Does it hurt? Has this happened to you before?” Youngjae’s rapid-firing questions faster than Juyeon can answer him. “Are you joking around?”
It’s not really Juyeon’s type of humor, and it isn’t very funny when his mind is so scrambled with arousal that he can’t even go more than a minute without thinking about his dick again. “No. I’m serious. It’s just,” he points at his dick where it’s making the towel look obscene, “like this all the time.”
“Like, all the time?” Youngjae parrots back.
Juyeon nods. “From the moment I wake up. It's been weeks now”
“And nothing helps?” He watches Youngjae’s throat work as he swallows. His lips move in a questioning, whispered, weeks and his eyes dart around.“You’ve tried everything?”
Juyeon probably hasn’t tried everything, but it’s not like he’s going to ask around for tips. “Everything I can think of.”
“Have you asked anyone about it?” Youngjae’s expression falters briefly before he schools it back into place. “Does anyone know?”
"Just you."
Juyeon watches the cogs in Youngjae's brain turn in real-time. He can see the moment Youngjae comes up with an idea.
"Okay," Youngjae says, and Juyeon waits. When Youngjae looks up, face determined, there's a flush across his cheeks and he's sitting up straighter. "I have an idea."
Juyeon nods, bottom lip jutting out. He doesn't need to think about it. Not like he can with the way his skin's on fire. "If you think it'll work, sure."
"I feel like maybe you're too in your head about it, you know?" Youngjae sounds like he been thinking about it for longer than the few minutes he's been in the room. "It might help if someone else tried to—take care of it."
"Someone else?"
"Me," Youngjae clarifies, shifting around.
"How," Juyeon starts to ask, but it doesn't quite take form as a question. He can’t get another word out before he’s swarmed with images of Youngjae on his knees in front of him. Juyeon squeezes his eyes shut, every instinct in his body telling him it’s what he needs. He blinks again and there are more flashes, Youngjae on top of him, Juyeon between his thighs, the both of them molding into one. It feels like he’s being tugged around by an invisible force, helpless to end anywhere but next to Youngjae.
“If you come closer I can show you,” Youngjae says, quieter than he ever is.
Like a puppet on a string, Juyeon moves to the bed. He ends up in the vee of Youngjae’s legs, looming over him.
Youngjae pats a spot on the bed next to him and Juyeon sits, body deflating like air out of a balloon. He can't help the way his limbs flop around, utterly useless, knocking into Youngjae's knees where he's sitting next to him. He doesn't know exactly what Youngjae has in mind, and he can't get his mouth to move to say please touch me, but the spread of his legs is invitation enough, the towel around his hips a movement away from coming undone.
It hurts, to be so close to what he's been aching for, the need for another release fogging up his thoughts again. It's an ugly combination of desire and need, something so feral and foreign that he can't wrap his mind around it.
"I don't want you to think about anything." Youngjae's voice interrupts Juyeon's thoughts.
Juyeon wants to say, I can't, really, but until his mouth works again all he's got is his body. He wraps a hand around Youngjae's wrist. He'll understand.
Juyeon's body immediately reacts to Youngjae's fingers reaching for the knot where his towel's struggling to stay closed. Youngjae taps him so he can lift the towel from under him and his hips jerk up, looking for anything to take the edge off, and Youngjae places a gentle palm on his hipbone to settle him.
"Easy," Youngjae tells him. "No thinking."
Youngjae doesn't spend a second longer dawdling, going straight for Juyeon's cock, warm hand wrapping around him. Juyeon makes a low noise, resisting the urge to jerk his hips up again. It feels like he's been hard for eternity, overwhelmed by the need to get off again and again.
"Oh," Juyeon whispers when Youngjae strokes his cock the first time. His mouth drops open, short breaths stuttering out. "Oh." Youngjae swipes a thumb over the wet head of his cock and he's seeing stars behind his eyes. He's barely using any pressure, just the lightest exploratory touch of his hand, but it feels like a punch to the gut, electric frisson all over his skin.
He comes the hardest he has all day.
When he opens his eyes Youngjae is wiping his hands off on the towel that was thrown to the side. His shoulders are shaking and he's—
"Are you laughing?"
Youngjae snorts before laughing even harder. "Maybe."
Juyeon swings an arm out to shove at Youngjae, revived momentarily the way he gets when the haze fades away for a bit after coming. It only makes Youngjae laugh more at Juyeon's expense when he misses, hitting air. He shoves at him again but Youngjae keeps cackling. He leans up on his elbows before launching at Youngjae sideways, tackling him down to the bed.
"I told you I don't know what's going on with my body, you can't make fun of me for coming after a minute." It's only after Juyeon says this, as his elbows are bracketed around Youngjae's head, knees around his hips, that he realizes he's hovering over Youngjae completely naked. It seems like Youngjae realizes it at the same time because he's frozen, eyes wide, searching as he stares up at Juyeon. At least he stopped laughing.
"You have to admit it was a little funny," Youngjae breathes out, his words soft again. It's strange, knowing Youngjae and seeing him in this new light. He's still bright, and animated, and willing to take the reins so Juyeon doesn't have to, but right now he's almost vulnerable in the quiet.
Juyeon shifts, experimentally, and surprise—Youngjae's hard underneath him, a little whimper escaping his lips when Juyeon rocks down with purpose. The arousal shoots through Juyeon's body once more, from a low simmer to boiling in an instant. Youngjae's cock is hard against his, the barrier of Youngjae's shorts the only thing between them. Juyeon thinks he could come like this, probably in another minute, rubbing off on Youngjae like he's a wild animal. He shuts his eyes, fully prepared to do it again, but Youngjae stops him with a hand on his bicep.
"Wait," he says. "You're gonna come again."
"Only because your first idea didn't work," Juyeon says. He doesn't know how he's holding back right now, the heat of Youngjae underneath him turning into wicked flames the longer he waits. Maybe Youngjae is trying to be considerate, wanting to focus on Juyeon, but it's not that important. They can both get off. He can use one hand to shimmy Youngjae's shorts down to his knees and wrap a hand around both of their cocks. There's no need to stall, no need to worry about anything. No thinking.
Youngjae swallows, his bottom lip shining where it's bitten red. "So what now? Do you have any ideas?"
"I have a few." He tips forward to kiss Youngjae, nudging his mouth open, Youngjae's jaw going slack as he licks into his mouth. Youngjae's lips slot against his desperate and messy and Juyeon's back to that space where he can't think, can't change his mind, can't do much of anything but chase the fire inside and all around him. He presses his chest to Youngjae's, a hand winding into his hair, and he thinks it's Youngjae whining from the way he can feel it in his ribcage, but maybe it's coming from him. He bites at Youngjae's bottom lip, kisses him to soothe it, searches for more in the wet heat of his mouth.
"Actually, I have an idea," Youngjae says, pulling away because he's constantly thinking and talking when he should be letting his subconscious do the work. His mouth is even redder than before, shiny with spit, and has a dazed look on his face, but he seems determined to speak. "I think you should fuck me."
"Yes," Juyeon's saying as he's already reaching around for the lube he was using earlier. "Yes," he's saying once he finds it, dropping it next to Youngjae before dropping back down to kiss him again. "Please," he starts babbling, hands moving to Youngjae's hips, over his sides, under his thighs.
It doesn't take very long for Youngjae to get his clothes off, Juyeon's hands all over him, shucking his useless excuse of a shirt off, shoving his shorts down and away.
He's so busy pushing his face into Youngjae's neck, biting at the skin above his collarbone, rutting his dick against his stomach where they're pressed together, that he almost misses Youngjae reaching for the lube.
"No," Juyeon finds his voice. "I'll do it."
"Okay," Youngjae breathes out, already shifting around so that Juyeon can reach under him. He's so quick with it, so eager, that Juyeon thinks maybe Youngjae needs this just as badly.
When Juyeon presses a lubed finger to Youngae's rim, it's already wet, his finger slipping in easily. He slips it out and presses back with two fingers, only a little more resistance.
"You're already—?"
Youngjae trembles, body shaking as holds himself from rocking back onto Juyeon's fingers. "Yeah. Earlier I—Before I left the other dorm." His eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open with a moan when Juyeon curls three fingers up into him. "You can, now. I'll ride you."
Juyeon keeps his hands on Youngjae as he rearranges their bodies, pressing Juyeon to the bed and swinging a knee over him to settle. Juyeon loses all of his remaining thoughts, only able to feel the way Youngjae's hole stretches tight around his cock as he lowers himself slowly, how Youngjae's hands press him into the mattress.
This, Juyeon thinks, is what his body needed. The hot, wet clutch of Youngjae around him. Over the past few weeks, he's felt hazy, and groggy, and even had some moments of clarity, but this has him feeling insane. Youngjae feels so fucking good on top of him that maybe Juyeon will actually die because of this. His body's been searching for what it needs and this is finally it.
Youngjae's so easy for him, pliant and fluid as he grinds down. Juyeon doesn't have to think about anything at all, only needs to hold on to Youngjae's hips, grip tight enough to bruise. Youngjae fits around him with perfect pressure, rocking above him, eyes closed in pleasure. He's flushed all over, body burning up with exertion. Youngjae's putting everything into this for Juyeon, every roll of his hips to help him fix whatever's going on. Taking the work off of Juyeon's hands, letting Juyeon fuck him bare, stroking his own cock with the rhythm of his thrusts. Juyeon has him now, but he's always finding so many different and new ways to have him. Youngjae always knows what he needs.
It doesn't take very long even though Juyeon tries to pool all of his brainpower into not shooting like he's on a hair-trigger. It's not like he could make it last anyway, with the morning he's had, with Youngjae's hands settled in the grooves of his ribs, his solid weight on top of him the only thing grounding him.
Coming—again—finally feels like relief. His whole body is static, every nerve a livewire, the air caught in his throat when Youngjae clenches around him. He comes for what feels like forever, hips hitching up like he can still fuck in deeper.
Youngjae's still riding him like there's a prize at the end, stroking his own cock in earnest, pushing into his fist until he comes, thighs shaking, abs flexing, a low groan ripped from his throat. Juyeon watches, with satisfaction, as Youngjae slumps forward, folding into him.
He feels floaty, mind free of racing nonsense. The post-orgasm bonelessness he's been trying to achieve for weeks finally settles in his stomach.
"Second idea. Good idea," Juyeon mumbles.
"They don't call me a genius for nothing." Youngjae rests his head on Juyeon's chest, twisting up to peer at him.
Juyeon smiles. He feels good. Normal.
“That stuff on the ceiling, can it get dusted off?” Youngjae asks, later, when they're cleaned up and Juyeon's wrapped up neck-high in a blanket with Youngjae next to him to finally get a peaceful sleep. He points a finger to the corner of the ceiling. Juyeon traces the path his arm makes, from Youngjae’s smooth armpit to the tattoo by the crook of his elbow, the veins in his forearm all the way to the tips of his fingers. He glances at the ceiling. It looks like a spiderweb.
“I don’t know,” Juyeon says, looking away from the ceiling, eyes now fixated on Youngjae’s lips. He curls his arm tighter around Youngjae's shoulder, tucking him closer to his side. A recognizable warmth fills his chest. “I never even noticed that.”