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“You ever been kissed before?”
“Are you asking out of genuine curiosity,” Doyoung says through a mouthful of rice, eyes still glued to his laptop. “or because you have nothing better to do?”
Jaehyun stares at the clock on their shared nightstand. It’s 12:30 on a Friday night, and he’s cocooned in a blanket, homework done, laundry folded, mind nearly adrift. “Both, I guess.”
“Johnny and Mark bail on you?”
“Kind of. I went to their dorm for movie night. They were making out before I could even walk in.”
Jaehyun still shivers at the thought. He’s lucky he didn’t bring any popcorn—the sight of Johnny’s bare ass alone would've sent perfectly buttery puffs of goodness flying to the floor. He’s happy for them, really, God knows how long they’ve been dancing around each other, but he would’ve liked it better if he were spared the details of their union.
He also would’ve liked it if he were kissed himself. Not necessarily by those two, as tempting as it may be, but preferably by someone single, whose room didn’t reek of sweat, or beer, or any other questionable fluids. Being a late bloomer isn’t as big of a deal as they make it in the movies, so no one probably cares, but to Jaehyun, it’s been a constant point of concern, plaguing him for as long as he could remember.
He had been close, yes. But close in the way that doesn’t really count, like with the girl his mom introduced him to in high school. Chaeyoung barely got a peck in before pulling away, but it wasn’t the earth-shattering heartbreak Jaehyun thought it would be. It was much of the opposite, actually—upon that awkward encounter came the revelation that they were better off as friends, leading to the eventual agreement that was their break-up. Holding it off until graduation wasn’t the easiest, but they did it for the sake of their parents. (They still call, though. Apparently Chaeyoung’s met a lovely girl back home.)
There was also the string of many, many failed attempts to mingle in college. Chances should’ve skyrocketed, given that the dating pool is twice the size of his old neighborhood’s, but Jaehyun is still just as lost. He would always say the wrong thing, at the wrong time, sometimes even with the wrong person altogether. Close, sure. Almost infuriatingly so. But not quite.
Doyoung hums, reeling Jaehyun out of his thoughts. “Figures. It was bound to happen one day.” He pauses the documentary he has on and spins his chair around, swiveling a few feet closer to the bed. “Is that why you’ve been sulking the whole night? I assume you haven’t been getting any lately.”
“Something like that,” Jaehyun sighs into the sheets. “Think more like, haven’t had any at all. Kisses are out of the question for now.”
He could’ve easily lied. Dropping a bomb like that over the years hasn’t exactly been pleasant, but overall the admission flows like water, not sounding as daunting as it did in his head. It isDoyoung, after all. Telling anyone else might prove to be a major cringefest.
Doyoung might be both confused and concerned, judging by the knot between his brows. “Oh. Hm.”
“Was that a good ‘hm’, or a bad one?”
“A good one! What people do with their bodies isn’t my business. It just… Surprised me a little. You look like you’ve broken a heart or two.”
Praise from Doyoung is high praise indeed. It takes everything in Jaehyun not to indulge. “Contrary to popular belief, I am actually quite the loser.”
“What about that boy you used to text? Tall, tan, puppy-like. Minhyun, right?”
“Mingyu,” Jaehyun corrects with defeat. “I thought he was into me, too. Turns out the guy just thought I was a really good tutor.”
Doyoung glares then, crossing his arms in disappointment. “Should’ve seen that coming. I imagine the library isn’t exactly the best place to look for a hook-up.”
“Ideally, I’d like to woo a man before even thinking of getting into his pants.”
“How about Sicheng? From that party last fall?”
Jaehyun lifts himself up from the covers, sleepily shaking his head.
Doyoung’s eyes widen in disbelief. “No. Are you messing with me? There’s no way you’d let a man like that slip away.”
Jaehyun snorts, hitting him with the bunny plushie they had won at an arcade a summer ago. It’s good he also put it in the wash, since Doyoung leans into the fluff instead of retaliating. “He puked all over my jeans, hyung. Johnny’s khakis were the only thing keeping me warm that night.”
“I still think you should’ve called him. You guys had the same classes and everything.”
“Well, yeah, until he transferred. Long distance kinda sucks, doesn’t it?”
“It does. Depends on the day, honestly. But taking the first step matters, you know, long distance or otherwise,” Doyoung responds, as if speaking with experience. “Take a chance some time, Jaehyun-ah. It won't hurt to see where it takes you.”
Jaehyun winces. He can already imagine the lousy draft he’d leave unsent in Sicheng’s DMs: Hey, I know we blacked out trying to give each other handjobs that one time, but maybe we can start over?
Sicheng was nice; dreary but drop-dead gorgeous under the morning sun when Jaehyun fed him cereal mid-hangover, but it’s been an eternity since then. Jaehyun’s not sure if either of them would want to revisit the talking stage. He pockets the advice for a rainy day. “You’re probably right.”
“Mhm. No use in denying that you’re nothing without me.”
Jaehyun scoffs. “Awfully bold, coming from the guy who nearly killed Kun-hyung with a half-built stool. And enough about me. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I’m appalled that you had to ask. Hurt, even.”
And that hurt is warranted. Jaehyun knows Doyoung dates around, even without having to be told outright. The hickeys he fails to hide with drugstore concealer are plenty indication of that. There’s a lot Jaehyun has learned in a year, but there's only so much he can pick up on from pieced-together anecdotes. They’ve never really talked about the inner workings of their love lives, which is weird, because they talk about everything.
(Or at least Jaehyun thinks they do. While he’s got all of the basics down, along with heaps of Doyoung-related trivia to fill entire archives, there’s still a lot that’s kept behind closed doors. Most of which are harmless, unearthed with time, like how Doyoung still binges Dream High six years after its initial release. Or the fact that he doesn’t have it in himself to tell Yuta that his cleats stink up the place, opting to just drown the dorm in Febreze when he leaves.
Other times, it’s frustrating. It’s fine, I don’t want to be a burden, Jaehyun-ah, he would say coming home in a hurry, tight-lipped and tear-stained with whatever that had been bothering him. Jaehyun always sees, always knows, but rarely does Doyoung ever let him in.)
“There isn’t much to go by, if that’s what you’re wondering. But there was Jungwoo from Engineering, Renjun a while back… Johnny, funnily enough,” Doyoung blushes with all the embarrassment he could muster, “although we were wasted and it lasted for a grand total of like, two seconds. And oh, fuck. How could I forget?”
“Taeyong,” he says with finality, sighing dreamily. “We did more than just kiss, actually.”
Jaehyun short circuits on the spot. Jungwoo and Renjun are for further investigation, and Johnny, Jaehyun definitely knows about—the man made sure to broadcast the drunken mishap on every social media platform imaginable, on top of sending a rather unintelligible voicemail to Jaehyun in the wee hours of the morning. But Taeyong? It comes off as a genuine shock. “As in Lee Taeyong, the hot RA? You’re only sharing this information now?”
“You never asked,” Doyoung sing-songs. “And I feel like I would’ve jinxed it if I told anyone. Chances with him were hard to come by, since our schedules barely ever lined up.”
The idea isn’t far-fetched. It actually makes a lot of sense, now that Jaehyun thinks about it: from the little interaction they’ve had, he could tell that Taeyong was kind, dependable, and funny, complete with the double take-inducing looks to match. He and Doyoung had a history long before Jaehyun had stepped into campus, so it seemed only right to have fooled around one way or another.
There’s an undercurrent of jealousy that churns somewhere down Jaehyun’s stomach upon realizing this, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.
Doyoung raises a brow. “Something on your mind?”
Curse Jaehyun and his lack of subtlety. “No, not really,” he shrugs, averting his gaze. “I just didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Mm. For a minute there, I figured you might’ve wanted a taste for yourself.”
So it just so happens that the bridge isn’t too far off. Get a grip, man, Jaehyun wants to scream at himself. Are you insane? He’s joking. He has to be.
But slowly, and without meaning to, the wires in his brain reconfigure, returning to what feels like forbidden territory.
Doyoung is pretty. Beautiful. The embodiment of grace, if there were one. It’s definitely crossed Jaehyun’s mind from time to time—quite a lot more often than he’d like to admit, actually—but he’s been careful to never let anything slip past the realm of infatuation. He's convinced that maybe everyone's a little in love with their friends sometimes, and that Doyoung is no exception to that rule. A result of cohabitation, perhaps. Or maybe all the teasing was getting to his head. It’s cute, you know. How you waddle after him like a little duckling, Jaehyun remembers Mark saying, somewhere tucked in the inner recesses of his mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the earth if you could.
None of that logic, however, seems to explain the sweat beading on Jaehyun’s palms, or the nagging feeling that he’s been repressing some unspoken truth.
The faint glow of the desk lamp hits Doyoung in all the right places—around his eyes, one bigger than the other but both twinkling under the rims of his glasses, kind but cunning when they need to be. On his throat, where an angelic voice hides, belting show tunes and Top 40’s when he thinks no one is around to listen. And then over his hands, which carry books and budgets and people with utmost care, among a million other things. Jaehyun’s always adored him, has always been lucky to call him a best friend, so he feels twice as stupid for wanting to ruin that for a kiss or two.
Too drawn to look away, he thinks of how those eyes could stare him down, how that voice could soothe him into surrender, how those calloused hands would run up and down his sides, carefully taking him apart. Clearly, they could wake up the next morning and have things stay the way they are, but it hits Jaehyun right then and there that he wants absolutely none of that.
Take a chance some time, Doyoung had said, and Jaehyun wonders if that time is now.
“Actually, yeah. That’s quite the roster you got there,” he treads carefully, tipping the point of no return. “Which means you are also very… experienced.”
“Yeah? I guess you could say that,” Doyoung flushes. “Is this what I think it is, Jaehyunnie?”
The directness of it all shakes any semblance of confidence Jaehyun thinks he had. “Um. Please don’t make me say it.”
The warmth in Doyoung’s eyes never leaves. “Oh, but I'd kinda love to.”
“Fine,” Jaehyun says on the cusp of nervous laughter. “Fine. Only ‘cause you asked,” he trails off, awfully more tongue-tied than he’d like to be. Why is this so hard? He just admitted he was a virgin a few minutes ago. This isDoyoung he'stalking to, not Taeyong or his linguistics professor or anyone else he felt the obligatory need to impress. “Would you… wanna…”
“Yes,” Doyoung seals the deal for him, oh so clearly enjoying this. “I don’t see why not.”
“Wait, really? Don’t do this out of pity or something, though. You can say no if you want to.”
“Oh, please. You act like girls don’t flood your inbox on the regular. Think less of this as pity and more like… assistance? Yeah,” Doyoung insists, motioning at entire repertoires stacked over their makeshift table. Beside his empty carton of bokkeumbap is an equally empty bottle of Pocari Sweat. “I mean, my quota for learning about dead, white poets has pretty much been filled anyway, so.”
“Okay, uh.” Jaehyun scoots toward the edge of the bed, hesitant, genuinely surprised that he even made it this far. “Help. How does this usually go?”
“Easy there, sweetheart,“ Doyoung says intently, hooking a finger under Jaehyun’s chin, lifting it ever so slightly to meet his gaze. “Let me brush my teeth first. I kinda want this to be perfect for you.”
Sweetheart. Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart. Baby, Jaehyun could handle, because that pet name gets thrown around whenever anyone does anything remotely endearing (Jeno could sneeze like a man on life support and still have Doyoung cooing at his every word). But something about sweetheart makes him feel small, like he’d want nothing more than to hear it over and over and over again, until the honeyed words drip and settle into his skin.
Impatient, Jaehyun tugs at Doyoung’s shirt and pouts. “I don’t mind the garlic breath, though? Your take-out smelled really good.”
Doyoung laughs and swats Jaehyun’s hands away, leaving no real malice behind the gesture. “You’re gross. Stupidly handsome, but gross nonetheless. Shame no one sees this side of you.”
“Well. You’re the only one who gets to,” Jaehyun says, a lot more tenderly than he intended.
And then the air stills. The sentiment is sudden, especially to Jaehyun himself. Before he clamors for a joke to shrug off what he just said, Doyoung looks down at him with a fond smile. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
He pecks Jaehyun’s cheek, much like he’s done on the daily, on hectic nights spent drowning in readings, or over coffee, whenever one of them had to catch a morning lecture. Only this time, Doyoung lingers on the softness, almost like he’s teasing what’s to come. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
The touch stays like a promise, burning even after Doyoung leaves, and Jaehyun figures that’s more than enough reason to wait.
Doyoung pops out the bathroom door a few moments later, still a vision in the same tee and checkered lounge pants that he’d wear on any given day. Breathing life into the dullest of things must be another superpower of his, Jaehyun decides. It shouldn’t drive him so crazy, but it does. For a enlightening, agonizing second, he imagines what Doyoung would look like in his clothes, and thinks that he might be getting ahead of himself, given that the flush in his cheeks travels somewhere much, much lower.
“You’re cute when you stare,” Doyoung says, bringing him back to earth. “All dimply and doe-eyed. It softens you out.”
Jaehyun freezes, unsure what to do next, single mattress dipping when Doyoung sits beside him. He’s taken all the necessary precautions: checking his breath, fixing his hair, virtually anything and everything to make sure he doesn’t go into this like a complete idiot. He still feels like one, despite all best efforts, and just hopes Doyoung doesn’t notice.
“I’m sorry if I’m making this weird,” he finally says.
“Hey,” Doyoung chastises. “None of that. We’re here to learn, aren’t we?” He crawls closer and eventually wraps his legs around Jaehyun’s waist, fuzzy socks scratching against the small of his back. “Is this okay?”
Jaehyun’s voice cracks. “Oh, um. Hi. You’re very pretty up close.”
Doyoung laughs, light as air. “Hi. I’m glad you think so.”
It gets quiet again, until Doyoung thumbs soft lines down Jaehyun’s arms. “You still sure about this? Don’t feel like you have to do it just ‘cause everyone else is. It’d be better with someone… I don’t know. Special? Someone you trust.”
“You are someone special, though. That’s kind of why I asked,” Jaehyun confesses. “It's good practice. So I don't make a fool of myself with people I don’t know.”
(A lie. Jaehyun believes that there might’ve been a reason why he’d been flighty from one boy to the next. Maybe all roads pointed to Doyoung, clear and well-paved, laid out under his nose this whole time.)
“Is this your way of wooing me? Gotta say it lacks a bit of finesse.”
Was it? Clearly, Jaehyun could do better. “No, not at all. If you don’t end up hating me after this, then maybe we could get, like, dinner or something. If you want. We don’t even have to… do stuff. I just like being with you. You know I do.”
Typically, the lines between friendship, flirting, and flirting with your friends just for the hell of it would be easy to draw. Jaehyun has met enough people in his life to know that checking all three boxes is a rare occurrence. But here Doyoung is, an anomaly among most, living and breathing proof that what they have is different. There’s something about the way he holds him—it’s careful, reverent almost, definitely more tender than what Jaehyun’s used to. Neither of them have to say a word to know that this conversation is far from over, and while words have never been Jaehyun’s strong suit anyway, for Doyoung, he’d be willing to try.
For now, his palm lays flat on Doyoung’s chest—an assurance, if anything. And with this, Doyoung understands.
“I’ll hold you to it, then. Let’s take it slow. And if at any point you wanna stop, just say the word. We can cuddle, watch a movie, whatever you want, okay?”
Jaehyun swallows, already breathless. “Okay.”
Kissing shouldn’t be too hard. If Jaehyun’s extensive knowledge of rom-coms is anything to go by, it’s an added benefit to do it somewhere safe. Intimate even, away from the pressure of pulling a dance number in front of watchful crowds.
It still doesn’t stop the tremor in his hands. Doyoung takes notice of this, because of course he does, and places both his palms on either side of Jaehyun’s face, gently cupping his cheeks.
“Hey. Breathe in. Close your eyes for me.”
And Jaehyun does just that. Little by little, his heartbeat steadies, settling back into his chest as air flows in and out his lungs. The cool press of Doyoung’s skin furthers this, grasp steady and reassuring, remedying the heat pooling in Jaehyun’s body.
There are no fireworks that go off, no lavishness or splendor that makes leading ladies pop their leg up in excitement. Right now, there is only the sound of Doyoung shifting in his hold, closing the space between them.
Unsurprisingly, Doyoung tastes like mint, and Jaehyun clumsily chases the flavor with his lips. He takes a liking to it right away—not so much to the freshness, although that isn’t too bad, either, but because Doyoung feels soft, light, so inexplicably him that it kind of makes Jaehyun’s head spin.
The next thing he knows, Doyoung pulls away. Jaehyun finds himself already missing the touch as soon as he lets go. “See? Now that wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I was basically copying everything you were doing.”
“Then you’re already halfway there. Assessing and adapting to your partner’s preferences is important in situations like these.”
Leave it to Doyoung to methodize a make-out session. He can’t quite place why, but Jaehyun thinks it’s kind of hot. “What’s the other half?”
“Putting it to practice,” Doyoung spurs on. “You can go a little crazy after that.”
Gathering a little more courage, Jaehyun leans in again, nose bumping slightly and mouth slotting itself better as Doyoung smiles into it, taking the lead as he grabs Jaehyun’s face for closer proximity.
“Been wondering what these feel like,” Doyoung admits after a while, thumb slowly skirting the slope of Jaehyun's bottom lip. “Tastes as good as I imagined, too. Even better. God, how are they so plump?”
“Must be the chapstick,” Jaehyun chuckles, entranced.
“I think it’s just you. Wear it next time, though. The peach is delicious.”
Oh. The prospect of a next time sends Jaehyun’s heart into overdrive, turning one kiss into two, into five, and then into whatever insurmountable amount that renders his anxiety to mush.
They kiss for what feels like forever. Jaehyun is made sure of it when the clock reads at a whopping quarter to two, distant and blurry at the edges of his vision. They’ve been at this for roughly an hour. Jaehyun can no longer feel his legs, and while his lips are so swollen that he could barely speak, he finds himself irreparably enamored, pain a worthwhile sacrifice if it means getting to see Doyoung just as affected.
Somewhere between his hormone-addled thoughts, a lightbulb goes off. “Hey, Doie?”
Jaehyun feels a hand rub at his nape. “Mm?”
“Is more tongue okay? The hold-up’s been killing me,” Jaehyun sighs, scratching little circles around Doyoung’s knees in return. “I’m starting to think you aren’t as good of a kisser as Johnny says you are.”
Doyoung rolls his eyes. Both of them know it's just a bluff. “You seriously hang out with him too much. Come here and find out for yourself before I kick you out.”
The first real swipe of tongue is kittenish, barely even there to be called a lick, but Jaehyun is pretty sure it shoots him straight to the gates of heaven. The muscle is hot, languid, sort of like a slow-burning fire, a far cry from the petal-like lips keeping it hidden. Doyoung darts it in again, further this time, and Jaehyun figures that he could get lost in the flames if he isn’t too careful.
And yet he can’t get enough. Jaehyun knows Doyoung’s laughter is a sign that he’s stuck himself in weird places, but eventually he gets the hang of it, licking and suckling as if it’s second nature. Distance a mere afterthought, Doyoung grabs him by the collar to go even deeper, not stopping until they become a tangle of tongue and skin. Teeth bite at Jaehyun’s lip as fingers press onto his hair, and it hurts in the best possible way—so much so that he fails to notice the bulge throbbing in his pants, poking at Doyoung’s leg before he could pull away.
“Oh, fuck,” Jaehyun’s eyes water, “Fuck. I’m sorry. This is—I should go—”
Doyoung grabs his hands in an instant, interlocking their fingers. After all that they’ve done tonight, it’s this that makes Jaehyun’s stomach do somersaults. “Hey, no, look at me. It’s fine. You're fine. It happens.”
“It’s embarrassing, that’s what it is,” Jaehyun exhales. “I’m sorry. I’m kind of going in blind here, and I’m just. I’m nervous.”
“Jaehyun, I’ve literally seen you devour the cafeteria menu in one sitting. I appreciate the restraint, but a hard-on isn’t gonna scare me off,” Doyoung argues, oddly comforting. “Any pace you wanna go at, I’m totally fine with. I mean it. And if it’s any consolation,” he breathes, Adam’s apple bobbing at his own crotch. “It looks like you’ve got me all hot and bothered, too.”
“Oh,” Jaehyun stammers. If it weren’t for the dim light, he would’ve been a hundred percent sure that Doyoung’s dick just twitched in interest. “You wanna do something about it?”
“That can definitely be arranged.” Doyoung smirks, pressure doubling when he readjusts his position on Jaehyun’s lap. “Oh, fuck,” he gasps. “You’re—You’re big.”
Too scatterbrained to come up with a response, Jaehyun cants himself higher, determined to wring out any and all sounds that sing high from Doyoung’s throat. The rhythm of their hips is excruciatingly slow, but a shock of electricity licks up his spine nonetheless. Movements staggering, his lungs barely cooperating to heave out breaths. It’s enough for now. Any further just might fling him past this plane of existence.
“Is it weird that I also think about your hands? They’re huge. Like they could wrap around my waist,” Doyoung continues, as though posing a challenge. To test his hypothesis, Jaehyun brings his palms up from where they stayed planted on Doyoung’s thighs, experimentally threading underneath his pajamas, never once halting the heat between them.
Jaehyun’s nails gently rake up and down Doyoung’s sides, cold palms glacially pacing inward to knead at his ribcage. It’s a perfect fit. “Like this?”
“Okay, what the fuck,” Doyoung reddens, looking away. “Stop lying. You’ve absolutely done this before, and I’m gonna ask Ten for Sicheng’s number to double-check—“
“I’m not!” Jaehyun raises his arms in defense. “Swear on my mother’s grave. You’re my first.”
First friend, first kiss. First love? It’s too soon to say, but Jaehyun isn’t entirely closed off to the idea.
“What?” Doyoung laughs. “Spit it out. You always clench your jaw when you wanna say something. It isn't good for your teeth.”
Jaehyun settles for a half-truth. A full-blown confession doesn't seem appropriate when you’re inches away from your best friend’s nipples. “Nothing. Just didn’t think you’d be so mouthy,” he mumbles. “Mouthier than usual, anyway.”
“Well. Guess there’s still a lot you don’t know about me.”
And there it is again—the blaring reminder that there’s more to Doyoung than what meets the eye, laid out in front of Jaehyun like a puzzle with pieces he has yet to find. He doesn’t care if he isn’t the first to make sense of this, nor does he want to dwell on those that have gone farther. He’s honestly just happy to be here. Close enough to hear Doyoung’s heart, inching to break through the walls that guard it.
Pulling him out of a trance, Doyoung nudges him to lie on his back, crawling towards the headboard. “Is it okay if I go down your neck?”
Jaehyun thinks he has never nodded so fast in his life. Head barely recovering from the whiplash, he clears his throat, speaking for extra measure. “Yes, please.”
Doyoung looks at him with glassy eyes. Jaehyun swears he can almost see himself through his dilated pupils. “You can place your hands lower, if you’d like.”
Doyoung’s ass, as it turns out, is a lot perkier than his frame suggests. Jaehyun’s caught thousands of glimpses through the closet mirror to know that the man has the fashion sense of someone twice his age (Not that it didn’t work to his advantage. Loose slacks work wonders to his long, slender legs, paired with polos to boot, weathered linen draped atop shoulders the same width of a football field’s.) Doyoung is undoubtedly a smart dresser, capable of more variety than most of the student body, but none of what he’s worn could’ve ever prepared Jaehyun for what lies underneath.
It feels good. Lightyears ahead of good. More good than Jaehyun’s ever felt in his twenty years of existence, the molten rock in his gut returning to melt him whole. He kneads at it for a while, and it makes Doyoung relinquish all control, pretty and pliant, all for the taking.
When Jaehyun moans back, he makes sure it’s low and strifled. Any louder would probably wake the whole hall. Doyoung, unfortunately, makes silence a frustrating impossibility, because he chooses this exact moment to snake his mouth along the jut of Jaehyun’s jaw, all the way down to his chest. Pure sensation sears through the fabric of his shirt.
“Ah, I can’t,” Jaehyun whines. He’d rather scream into a pillow than hear himself fall apart. “Doyoung. Hyung, you’re gonna kill me.”
“Hm?” Doyoung mumbles, ever so perceptive, knuckles an anchor to the incessant thrumming in Jaehyun’s skin. “Is my baby getting shy?”
Okay, sue him. Maybe Jaehyun isn’t as immune to baby as he thought he was. At least not when Doyoung says it like that. “Mm. Less talking, more kissing.”
“You really like that, don’t you? Being my baby.”
Doyoung doesn’t wait for an answer. He just leans in, ghosting the shell of Jaehyun’s ear, like what will follow is for him and only him to hear. “Don’t tell anyone this, but you’re my favorite.”
And that’s what breaks him, Jaehyun thinks. He cries, loud and unabashed, gut already wrenching at the apology he’ll have to make for Chenle and Jisung next door. Doyoung happily drinks the noise up with another flick of his tongue, requesting entry with unwavering resolve. Jaehyun thinks he’d do just about anything if Doyoung asks.
They kiss again and again, until they can’t. “On second thought, I think that’s enough for one night,” Doyoung says eventually, the tips of his ears tickled pink. The string of spit between them glints in the darkness. “You have that make-up exam later, and I don’t want you passing out on the way there.”
Jaehyun opens his mouth in protest, wanting to say something along the lines of Shouldn’t I get something for good luck, then?
Ultimately, he decides against it. As much as he wants to let this go on until sunrise, exhaustion drops on him like lead, signaling that what they have will be better when they wake. There’s no rush, anyway.
Instead, he droops onto the mattress once more, voice hushed and honest. For once in his life, Jaehyun feels like taking his sweet, sweet time. “Thank you, by the way. Just wanted to put it out there. I’d appreciate it if you don’t make out with anyone else.”
Doyoung giggles loudly, combing through Jaehyun’s bangs as he holds in a yawn himself. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, then. I was worried you’d change your mind.”
“Are you kidding?” Jaehyun puffs out half-lidded, endorphins stripping his capability to filter his words. “Was my boner not a dead giveaway? Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“Save it for dinner. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, is all,” Doyoung sighs dopily, shirt a bit crumpled, hair sticking out in all sorts of directions. Blueish moonlight bounces off its softness like a halo.
“I’m more than okay. I feel good,” Jaehyun whispers. “A bit tired, but good.”
The sheets shift when Doyoung lies beside him. Tucked under the crook of Jaehyun’s neck, his hot breath is a welcome contrast to the cool air whistling from the window, lulling them into a sleepy haze. Jaehyun can’t see his face, but he imagines that Doyoung’s smile is as big as his own. “Remind me to send Johnny and Mark a fruit basket in the morning.”