Work Text:
Tonight is meant to be a celebration of love. At least for the rest of the country and everywhere else in the world that celebrate Valentine’s Day. Tong and Dong grew up celebrating it with their friends and Lin, competing over who got more stickers and candies at school and Lin’s attention, but never like this: brimming with pettiness and acting as giggly messes as they drunkenly sneer at every couple passing their way with hips attached.
But with the somberness of heartbreak over the past week, it makes sense for them to use this day as just another excuse to get drunk and rub their singleness on each other.
So here they are now in Tong’s bed, staring up at the string lights Dong haphazardly hung with tape on the wall across his bed. Dong is singing an off-tune and definitely wrong lyricized rendition of PP Krit’s Fire Boy. He makes an awful attempt at a body roll that makes Tong weep with laughter, especially with the obnoxiously big headband he has on with hearts sticking out from bendable springs that he looted from the corner store’s Valentine’s Day display.
It’s quiet for a moment after Dong crawls back to bed with a shit-eating grin that Tong meets with equal fervor. Finally a time of reflection it seems like, especially after a heartfelt conversation about Lin that Dong decided to end with his comical karaoke skills. The load of heartbreak keeps getting lighter the more they talk about it. It makes it easier to digest, to know where things had gone wrong, and understanding why maybe, Tong and Lin weren’t going to work out together in the long run.
A serene feeling washes over Tong as he stares at the little squiggles of light emitting effervescent warmth in the darkness of his room. It feels nice along with the noticeable heat of Dong’s arm pressed against his. It doesn’t feel like he’s alone no matter how lonely he’s supposed to feel. Dong’s company never falters to make him feel that way.
“I swear I’m going to stop talking about her after tonight,” Tong says resolutely. “And move on. I’m going to take revenge. I’ll date so many girls this year and stop moping around.”
Dong snickers. He’s not convinced. “You? Dating around?”
“I will try.”
“Right,” Dong singsongs incredulously. “This giant baby who couldn’t even get a date for today is about to become a Casanova.”
Dong flicks Tong’s chin, which Tong swats with an eyeroll.
“Says you who’s also stuck with me. Where’s your date now, huh?”
Dong only scoffs at him with what appears to be a secretive smile.
Tong doesn’t want to wait for him to add on more ridiculousness, so he says, “it’s not that easy getting over her. I think dating around might help. See what’s out there, you know?”
“Right,” Dong says succinctly. “Out… there.”
“It’s not like you have better ideas.”
“I don’t?” Dong asks provocatively. Then, Dong puts his head on Tong’s shoulder. The hearts from his headband tickles Tong’s cheek. “Actually, I have a great one.” Dong gazes up at him with what can Tong only describe as wicked as he leers out, “What if we kiss as revenge?”
Tong is drunk, but he’s not that drunk, so he effectively stops Dong’s frisky smile towards him by shoving a palm over Dong’s mouth.
“That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever come up with,” Tong says, trying to laugh at the absurdity of it rather than entertain the odd warmth spreading rapidly in his chest. “And I’ve known you since birth, Dong.”
The sound of his amused laughter makes Dong light up from the inside, eyes sparkling and corners crinkling with glee. Tong’s hand is big enough to cover most of Dong’s face, but he can see Dong’s cheek dimple peeking at the edge of his palm. Dong seems to mumble I’m serious, though! against Tong’s skin which he fervently ignores until Dong licks his palm in retaliation.
Tong yelps, slapping him lightly on the cheek on reflex with a well-rehearsed, “Ai, Dong!” and Dong’s giggle bursts out, his expression melting from twinkling curiosity into amplifying delight as he watches Tong’s face go crimson red.
“You’re so easy to fluster,” Dong says shamelessly, reaching out to pinch Tong’s left cheek mercilessly. “So adorable, Tong.”
“Ai, Dong!” Tong pushes his palm against Dong’s forehead and whines. “Stop joking around. We were just having a serious conversation!”
Dong seems persistent; he pushes himself off the wall and gets on his knees, towering over Tong with hands dangerously close to his face. He looks funny with the silly headband on, the hearts at the tip of it jiggling with his every movement. Even with Tong grumbling, “what are you trying to do now?” towards him, it doesn’t stop Dong from clasping his cheeks and squeezing them until Tong is tapping wildly on his forearms, his lips unwillingly puckered into a pout.
“Dong, Dong, Dong!”
“Making sure you know how cute you are,” Dong says, finally letting Tong go.
“You’re so annoying!”
Despite it though, Tong’s smiling too hard to even really show annoyance, his dimples digging deep on cheeks and skin painted with red thumb prints.
“I’m serious though. It’s revenge time.”
Tong watches as Dong’s eyes sparkle animatedly while he plops back down next to Tong, his hips attached to Tong’s once more.
This time though, his thigh is almost splatted over Tong’s.
It isn’t something new, Dong being so grossly physical with him. It reminds Tong of the first time they’ve ever gotten drunk together during their senior year of high school—courtesy of Uncle Haeb of course, although technically they’ve stolen the alcohol together without his consent—and how quickly Dong’s cheeks had turned strawberry pink after they’ve shared a couple cans of singha beers.
It was cute. Dong acted like a puppy on overdrive with the alcohol swirling in his system, giggling like a boozy madman every chance he got. His tongue lolled out as he chased Tong around the pier with his back bent lightly and his stupid boner sticking out until he caught Tong and pressed his mouth and tongue against his cheek, which Tong immediately returned with a striped lick on his nose and a rough squeeze of his cheeks.
In a way, Tong gives it to him in equal parts too. Even when they’re sober.
But it is the first time that Dong has ever suggested something so silly to him. Something that has genuinely caught Tong by surprise, and it feels like he’s sobered up with the turn of conversation.
It couldn’t be the alcohol talking, Tong thinks, because they’d just been having a pretty serious conversation just a few minutes ago.
Besides, Dong’s tolerance is much higher now. Probably much better than Tong’s despite partaking in so much drinking with his roommates during his freshman year, because Dong spent a lot of his time hanging out and drinking hardcore liquor with the elderlies in the year that all his friends had gone off to university. Tong is a bit thankful of it now that they’d been doing a lot of drinking together since he’s gotten back from Bangkok, especially because he can just curl over Dong’s back and tuck his legs over his front as his best friend hauls his drunken ass back home.
They didn’t need to do that tonight though. The sudden cloudburst of rain made sure they weren’t going home in a state of seeing double and all boozed up, barely uttering audible things as Tong’s mother impatiently shooed them upstairs.
No, tonight their giggles echoed as they climbed up the stairs, Tong feeling weightless and as cheery as he could since getting his heart broken simply because of good company. Dong’s company.
Tonight feels like clarity and honesty as they sit side by side on Tong’s bed reflecting on what has happened in the past week with Tong finally airing out his feelings deeper than their conversations with Bank.
Still, despite the tipsiness letting their limbs crumble all over each other, it’s evident that Dong’s penchant to be touchy at all times when intoxicated hasn’t changed one bit—maybe even heightened during the last few times they’d been out drinking in the city.
And it’s fine. It really is. Tong feels comforted every time Dong drapes himself all over him, his presence like a heavy blanket cradling Tong with warmth, one that he’s been needing so badly after losing his first love to another friend of theirs.
He’d always been fine with being like this with Dong—except now, Dong is talking about something else entirely.
Tong looks away. “Again, worst revenge idea ever. Do you even know what that means?”
“Whatever. I guess it’s not really revenge,” Dong admits, getting comfortable again as he slumps his back against the wall. He presses a cheek against Tong’s forearm and sniffs, almost too puppy-like, and Tong shakes his head and smiles. “I guess, I guess, I guess,” Dong muses repeatedly, tapping the tip of his nose against Tong’s skin like a synchronized dance.
Tong scoffs at his silliness. “Really? You guess?”
“A suggestion, then!” Dong exclaims, as if a lightbulb in his head has been turned on. He looks so funny, shoulders rising with a finger up in the air, the springs over his hair bouncing wildly from side to side. He frowns at Tong’s raised eyebrows. “An aid for moving on.”
Tong squints dubiously at him. “I don’t see how kissing is going to help me.”
Dong’s truly insistent on this, isn’t he?
Tong looks at Dong pointedly, his best friend’s lower lip jutting into a pout, and Dong stretches out his legs on the mattress with a childish grumble. He lets his toes fiddle with the end of Tong’s blanket, and Tong crosses his arms and fixates his gaze on them.
“Come on, Tong. I’m just trying to help you. We have to cheer you up a little. I heard kissing releases good chemicals in your brain.”
“I thought your brain is empty,” Tong counters, tilting his head to knock against Dong’s.
Dong clicks his tongue and mumbles, “Well, I just know for a fact that it does.”
“Does what?”
“Feel good,” Dong says, almost too unquestionably. He’s still wiggling his toes. “Kissing makes one feel good, and I want you to feel better.”
Tong knits his eyebrows, a little taken aback. He finally looks at Dong. “You’ve kissed someone before?”
Dong huffs poignantly, mouth curving up into an unerring answer.
“No fucking way,” Tong says.
Dong shrugs at him, and there’s a glint of annoyance that makes its way to the back of Tong’s head. It comes quickly and hops around unpredictably, like a stone viciously skipping through water. He elbows Dong on his rib, a slight jab but nonetheless one that makes Dong exaggerate and clutch his front.
Dong puffs out a hoarse, “Got a problem with that, Nontawat?”
“Who is it?” Tong asks, then, more importantly—“How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought you’d get together with Lin!” comes Dong’s reply, which, frankly, doesn’t answer both of those inquiries very clearly. Upon realizing how intensely he’s responded, Dong pulls off his headband and starts fiddling with one of the plastic hearts.
“Well, I thought the same,” Tong says somberly, picking up the headband from Dong’s hand. He flicks the heart once, staring at it in deep thought before giving it a squeeze. A representation of his own broken heart.
No wonder Dong seems more concerned about healing his best friend’s heart. It’s been a marvel as to why he, of all people, wasn’t sad about Lin getting together with Pao. He almost seemed to uphold both Tong and Bank like a life raft as they drowned in sadness for the first few days.
“Yeah… I kind of already accepted I didn’t have a chance a long time ago,” Dong finally says, running his hands up and down his bare thighs, a weird sign of uncertainty that Tong is very familiar with over the years he’s known Dong.
Knowing this, it makes sense for Dong to have moved on so quickly then. Even more so if he’s already diverted his attention to other girls while Tong and everyone else were off to college. It’s been obvious from the get-go that Tong and Lin might end up together, and Pao was a curveball they didn’t expect.
But as hastily as that thought slides into Tong’s mind, it disappears just as fleetingly as he notes how Dong’s tiny shorts have ridden up over the time they’ve settled into Tong’s bed.
Tong mindlessly folds his legs together, his knee atop Dong’s warm thigh.
Dong eyes him carefully, the two of them connected at another point of contact, then looks away. Dong breathes loudly and says, “It was so boring when you all left, so I just spent a lot of time kissing people. Like, a lot of them. I’m actually very good at it.”
That revelation makes Tong’s conversation with Lin a few months ago flash in his head: the unsureness he carried, his traditional insistence of needing to hold Lin’s hand and asking her out before he could even lean in for a kiss.
Yet here is Dong, his best friend, admitting how easily a first kiss could have been.
“But you said you never dated anyone,” Tong says.
It sounds a bit accusing.
“I didn’t need to date them,” Dong says, smiling cheekily as he meets Tong’s eyes. There’s something indecipherable hidden in his gaze, a softness contrasting his piercing stare, one that lulls Tong in. Yet, Tong feels abstemious enough to not push to unravel it. He could tell with the way Dong is speaking that this isn’t the time to ask. “You’d be surprised with how many people are willing to kiss without commitment.”
And that surprises Tong, especially with his own track record with Lin.
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Tong says. “But many people? Who knew you had it in you?”
Dong smirks handsomely at him. “I’m very hot, you know. Lots of people want to kiss me.”
“Right,” Tong replies with a laugh, although he can feel an unexpected swoop in his belly. It’s the truth. Dong has always been attractive.
But beyond all this newfound thing about Dong, Tong knows that Sukhothai is a very small city. It could be anyone—they could be anyone—and Tong doesn’t know why this information feels weirdly substantial and unpleasantly sits on his chest. That he could be running into different girls in their neighborhood and how some of them could have kissed Dong.
Dong shifts himself even higher, tucking his chin on Tong’s shoulder.
“Don’t you think about it?” Dong asks curiously. “Pao got to kiss Lin first while you still haven’t gotten the chance to kiss anyone.”
And yes, Tong has. He’s thought about it so many times—that moment he could’ve kissed Lin, the way her eyes lit up expectantly next to him on the bed, how he could’ve smooched away the want plastered in her eyes and roamed his big hands all over the curve of her body.
Even just hearing about Dong’s kissing escapade has made him think about how little of courage he had to just do it, to touch her, to just do anything.
Dong peers up at Tong through his pretty eyelashes and feverish cheeks—are they redder now, or are the midnight shadows casted by the moon and the cozy amber from the string lights playing tricks on him?—and then his eyes wander just a little lower.
Tong blinks out of the trance of thinking Dong seems like he’s serious about his previous suggestion.
“You know it doesn’t have to be a big deal, Tong.”
There’s a tug in Tong’s stomach, almost as if opening a gate for a cage of butterflies that flutter wildly in his belly, and then it’s gone as quickly as they’ve flapped around inside him and replaced by a lick of fire setting his insides aflame.
He’s thinking about kissing now too except Lin’s no longer next to him.
Instead, it’s his best friend, the one who’s been patching up his heart over the last week. The one that’s been making Tong laugh endlessly and dragging him to do his crazy antics with him that Tong knows he can’t dream to even do comfortably with Lin.
And now Dong is looking at Tong like he wants to really kiss him, just like how Lin looked at him that night. But to Tong, there’s a different pull to this than it was with Lin. Because this time, Tong can feel the brimming hunger to actually kiss Dong back.
Well. Maybe he’s not that sober after all, and in his inebriated state, Dong literally makes perfect sense.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Tong says softly.
“I could be.”
Dong nibbles on his lower lip very temptingly, his tongue leaving a sheen that seems to glisten under the moonshine seeping through Tong’s window.
Maybe Tong shouldn’t blow it off this time.
“Do you really want to show me?” Tong breathes out, anticipation coating every single word more than he’d like it to.
It seems like Dong’s pupils dilate inhumanly at those words. His eyes darken just like the night sky painted outside. Tong’s watched enough porn to perceive that Dong looks ravenous for more than a kiss.
“I want to make you happy,” is all Dong says lowly which is already an admission in Tong’s book.
“Is that all you want to do?” Tong asks honestly.
Dong’s breathing picks up. Tong can feel every exhale so close to his face, blowing against his skin, his chest rising and falling while pressed up against Tong’s side.
“No,” Dong admits boldly.
Tong tries to steady himself but all he can utter out is an unintelligible, “Oh?”
“Because you know what else makes one happy besides kissing?” Dong asks, his voice hushing to a sultry whisper. He’s still staring at Tong, eyes gleaming with voracity as he lands a palm over Tong’s bare thigh.
In the distraction Dong’s thighs has given him, Tong hasn’t realized just how much of his own shorts slid up as well, a stretch of skin exposed for Dong’s palm to conquer. Tong’s eyes glaze over the sight of Dong’s big palm over his thigh, golden skin and the back of his hand veiny, which oddly enough Tong suddenly finds attractive, the thought of it running all over him making him take a sharp inhale.
Huh. Interesting.
Dong’s always thought Dong’s veins on his arms were a nice touch to his physique—but this, this is a little... surprising.
Tong finds it in himself to look back up to Dong, slightly puzzled with his own vying thoughts, but his gaze is still not as big of a magnitude with the way Dong’s stare is suddenly eating him up. He doesn’t make a move, even when Dong rubs a thumb against the softness of his skin.
Tong swallows. He knows what Dong is going to say, can predict it from a mile away, but he wants to make sure. “What else?”
There’s discernible desire painted all over Dong’s smile. “Lots and lots of touching.”
Like a siren’s call, the way Dong has spoken is bewitching. It makes a shiver run down Tong’s spine and makes him feel tingles all the way down his toes. It’s as if he’s lost control, a live wire burning with fervent desire, his naturally decent judgement flowing out of the window, getting washed out by the rare downpour outside of monsoon season.
He doesn’t know what comes over him, possibly enthralled with how sharp Dong’s features are under the sliver of moonlight, but the sweet heat starting to simmer in his belly as Dong traces circles on his thigh and leaves goosebumps in each touch compels him to say, “I guess you can show me how good you are at that too.”
An exhale—almost a sigh of relief—escapes Dong.
“I guess I could,” Dong says lowly, eyes raking Tong’s face for any signs of doubt, only to find Tong’s doe eyes earnestly looking back at him with an equal level of craving. The corner of Dong’s mouth quirks into a gratified beam. “I guess I will,” he says, then leans in to kiss his best friend.
It’s nothing that Tong has expected from kissing Dong, but if this is what it feels like to be kissed, Tong doesn’t want to ever stop. Luckily for him, Dong doesn’t. Kissing Dong feels like fireworks in his chest, the smoke traveling down his belly, a warmth that leaves Tong feeling like he’s caught on a wildfire of want. Dong’s mouth is soft and full and kind. Despite Dong’s usual brashness and crude antics, he kisses Tong as if he’s much to be treasured: gentle and temperate, his mouth meticulous, moving his lips against Tong’s like a tender caress.
Dong’s kisses feel like magic.
They’ve barely broken apart when Tong peers down at Dong, breathless and panting. Dong’s eyes are still closed shut, almost like he’s savoring the kiss despite being the one to knock Tong’s breath away. It’s never crossed his mind just how beautiful Dong could look, so Tong leans in again and leaves a chaste kiss on Dong’s lips. He pulls back just enough to stare at Dong’s eyelashes, then kisses him even softer this time, eyes trained on every minute movement in Dong’s face. It feels compulsive, wanting to kiss Dong over and over again, but curiosity eventually gets the better of Tong.
“Is this how you kiss everyone?” he whispers softly against the curve of Dong’s upper lip.
Like you’re in love with them, Tong thinks.
And then, unbidden, Dong breathes out, “No, just you.”
A flash of wonder carves itself in Tong’s mind: has Dong been thinking about this much longer than tonight?
I kind of already accepted I didn’t have a chance, it echoes in Tong’s head, and… oh?
Could it be—?
The wonder pummels through Tong like an epiphany, but instead of letting it get to his head, he puts his potential realization to better use.
“That’s good to know,” he says, a gleeful warmth spreading all over him as he lifts a palm to grab the back of Dong’s neck, a thumb tracing against the tempestuous way his pulse accelerates even more like a physical confirmation.
Dong shudders under his touch. It seems like Dong is crumbling even when he says, “Yeah, I’m usually much rougher than this.”
And Tong wants to know how that’s like too, so Tong tilts his head and says, “Right. Show me then.”
Tong chases after Dong’s mouth fervidly, driving the kiss into a hypnotizing spell, one that they can’t get out of. He sucks on Dong’s bottom lip just enough for Dong to let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat that surprises Tong. Tong likes the sound of that, likes the way he can feel the puff of breath out of Dong’s mouth with every kiss. He greedily wants more of it, nipping Dong’s lip again until his mouth parts just for another whimper to escape.
Gone are the tamer pecks from earlier. It isn’t hard for Tong to find the rhythm of kissing Dong—after all, they’ve always been in sync growing up, their minds and bodies funneling into the same logical flow.
This is no different, just one of those moments.
Tong swipes his tongue against Dong’s lower lip again, making Dong just as enthusiastic to suck on his upper lip. It feels like another unspoken invitation for an open-mouthed kiss that this time, Dong dives in deep enough to suck on Tong’s tongue. Tong hums deliciously against his mouth, the vibrations making their lips tingle even more, and it eggs Dong on, tongue battling against Tong’s. He’s no longer deliberately careful with each kiss, but instead, he matches Tong’s rough intensity, embracing the sloppiness of how their spits intermingle, their teeth clashing in enthusiasm.
Dong is right; he’s very good at this.
Then, Dong turns himself just enough for his chest to be pressed against Tong’s arm, his heartbeat thrumming wildly against Tong’s skin. It makes Tong smile despite the kiss, contentment springing to life inside of him, this newfound speculation that wow, he really likes kissing Dong, blooming like a queen lily in the spring. The realization takes root inside him, breaking through the ground, growing into gardens of desire as he lets a small chuckle out before kissing Dong again.
Despite the equal vehemence that Dong gives out when it comes to the kiss, Tong knows him well enough to know that his cockiness just a few minutes ago as he goaded Tong into making out has flown out the window. Tong can tell with the way Dong is digging his palm down his inner thigh now, his own skin bursting through his fingertips, almost as if Dong is transferring all his nerves down his arm to the tips of where they’re splayed on Tong’s thigh.
Tong reaches out and lands a palm over his.
Dong’s hand is shaking, and it makes them break away from the kiss.
“Fuck,” is all Dong says, pulling away with eyes closed, still clasping around his thigh. He takes a sharp inhale, face hidden on Tong’s shoulder blade, but Tong can feel his mouth curl into a smile against his shirt. “I really kissed you.”
That’s all Tong really needed to hear to validate his earlier suspicion. His heart thuds wildly in his chest, endearment rolling inside him in tumultuous waves. This feels new yet familiar at the same time.
“Isn’t that what you wanted to do?” Tong says almost teasingly.
“Yeah, but.” Dong’s laugh is cut into bumbling pieces. When he opens his eyes, he looks frightened to see the sight of Tong in front of him: mouth thoroughly well-kissed, his cheeks just as feverish, big brown eyes that are too kind and knowing. Dong swallows, searching for an answer. “How was that?”
“I thought you said there’d be more touching,” Tong says impudently before Dong can overthink some more, then pulls Dong’s palm closer until he gets the hint. Despite the adorable confusion on his face, Dong climbs over Tong’s lap. Dong hovers over Tong, knees planted on either side of him. Tong smiles at him. “I think you could do better.”
“I could,” Dong says, breathless as he looks down at Tong, eyes lustrous with a brand-new courage.
“I know you will,” Tong says, and so Dong leans in to kiss him again.
As if promised, there comes a lot more touching. Tong likes it a little too much—it feels different, having Dong this close. Dong doesn’t feel as fragile as how Tong imagined who his first kiss would be; he’s broad in his shoulders, his back hardened through years of working out, the curve of his waist so sinful. It’s such a contrast to the softness of Tong’s upper body.
Dong’s arms wrap around Tong, anchoring himself as he deepens the kiss, his fingers running and gripping through Tong’s hair as he pulls himself impossibly closer, their noses smooshing against each other’s, breathing each other in. Tong finds his own clutching Dong’s waist, palms planted on each side, thumbs absentmindedly running circles against the sliver of skin where Dong’s shirt has ridden up.
It’s undeniable, the desire spreading all over Tong, but so is the obvious tent in his shorts just from kissing Dong.
When Dong finally seats himself on his lap, they both break away in synchrony to let out soft moans.
“Fuck,” Dong cusses out again, pressing the tip of his nose against Tong’s cheek. A smile makes its way onto Tong’s face at the absurdity of all of this, and Dong grumbles again, sliding his nose down to poke its tip at Tong’s dimple with an incredulous chuckle, then lands a kiss on it. “Fuck, you’re so hard.”
“Whose fault is that?” he says, which makes Dong’s laughter break out of him, little chuckles of joy vibrating his entire body over Tong. Tong’s heart feels like it’s going to burst with fondness, bewilderment gushing through him as he unlocks this new side of Dong, but there’s no time for that, not when Dong is grinding down on him, his breath breaking into an unsteady staccato.
“This, is it—” Dong pants in his ear, and before he can lift away and finish off his question, Tong is already keeping him in place as he mumbles a needy, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want to do. Fuck, don’t stop.”
It doesn’t take long before Dong is rolling his hips down Tong’s in a steady rhythm, their cocks rubbing together over the thin layer of their shorts. Tong’s breathing catches in his throat as Dong slides a hand down his chest, up his shirt, fingertips rolling the bud of his nipple. Dong grunts directly into his ear, almost like he’s enjoying so much the way he could touch Tong—and he probably is, Tong thinks, as Dong’s mouth presses down sloppily against the shell of his ear.
It feels overwhelming, having Dong everywhere, touching him so brusquely, holding onto him so tight like he’s going to disappear into thin air. Tong nips at his shoulder over his jacket and Dong moans at that, losing his tempo a little, which makes Tong smile and bury his face down his neck. He finds the smooth column of Dong’s neck with his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth which makes Dong whimper. Tong doesn’t detach away from his skin, alternating between nipping and sucking in a way that he instinctively knows will bruise and moves lower to do the same thing. Dong seems to like it—likes being marked by Tong, his skin painted with spit, and he inevitably stops grinding over Tong but they both don’t seem to mind, caught up in a newfound focus of making Dong shake in his arms. Dong keens as Tong moves to a new patch of skin on the other side, feeling the way Dong’s throat bobs down as he throws his head back, exposing more skin for Tong to leave bruises on.
Tong realizes early enough that he wants all of it—wants access to all of Dong’s skin, to draw hickeys all over his body with his mouth, so he skids a hand up to tug on the zipper of Dong’s colorful windbreaker all the way down this time. He whines softly when it gets stuck, making Dong laugh, his nose crinkling inelegantly yet so endearingly, and Tong barely feels embarrassment at just how desperate he seems to be when Dong complies very easily, zipping out of his windbreaker and sliding out of his white tank top. Tong impatiently takes his shirt off as well, watching the way Dong’s eyes rake over his body in hunger.
It's been a while since he’s seen Dong shirtless. Probably a year or so since their trip to the beach where his eyes scoured through the expanse of skin on Dong’s muscular back as he took off his shirt, and oh, fuck, what the fuck? Tong is surprised at how well that image is seared in his memory, and he barely pieces them together because Dong is sliding away from him, his golden skin gleaming in the dark, Tong feeling his warmth dissipate and leave his side.
And then—“Shit, you’re so hot,” Dong exhales, his face just inches away from the tent in Tong’s shorts, and Tong’s mouth goes slack when Dong presses his nose down and inhales.
Tong doesn’t think he could be even more turned on than from this sight of Dong curiously smothering his face down his shorts.
“Take it off,” Tong says, surprised at how easy it is to accelerate this whole thing, and just how much he wants it to. Dong licks his lower lip and stares at him, equally astounded. His cheeks are painted cherry red but he’s certain enough to know that he wants this. He wants Dong’s mouth not just over his shorts, but on his skin, on his cock. He aches so much to feel that same mouth that has just kissed him silly to be wrapped around his cock. “Do you want us to—?” he asks, breath hitching, and even though he wants to ask Dong to suck him off so badly, he gestures his hand into a jerking motion.
“Fuck,” Dong says, “yeah, let me just—”
Tong lifts his ass up, and Dong follows eagerly, sliding his shorts down until his cock springs out of it.
“Yours too.”
Tong has always been used to walking around naked in his house, doing it without a care as to whether his neighbors could see his everything. But this—his eyes fixated on the way Dong looks mesmerized, tongue on his cheek, his eyes half-lidded and smoldering with desire—this is brand new.
Dong scrambles to take his own shorts off, kicking it to the floor. He kneels at the edge of the bed, looking at Tong as if he wants to ravish him.
The view makes him breathless. This is easily a new favorite sight to see.
Dong’s cock is just how Tong expected it to be.
He isn’t going to lie; he’s thought of Dong’s dick before. It was always an inevitable thought. Something about how it was always hard in high school, how Dong liked to flaunt it. In Tong’s earlier teenage days, he once wondered what it was like to hold someone else’s cock, although he buried it within himself because that wasn’t—that wasn’t a good thought about his best friend.
Tong didn’t think much of what it meant, only tried to move past the crazy notions of it afterwards, replacing the unsolicited lewdness with thoughts of plump breasts and soft thighs wrapped around him.
But it makes sense now, realizing that he’s attracted to men. That he’s always been attracted to Dong.
Tong has jerked off so many times to porn, to the poster of the lady that lived permanently in his bedroom and subsequently the wall in his dorm room, but never like this; never with someone watching as he wraps a hand over his cock and shivers just from the first touch. Dong seems to mirror him, his own palm wrapping over himself, his face morphing into pleasure. It makes Tong’s breath hitch just watching him.
“Get back here and touch me,” Tong says, almost pleads, and Dong comes so willingly, getting back to where he was, except this time, their cocks brush against each other.
“Fuck,” Dong breathes out, sliding his own against Tong’s cock despite the dryness in between.
“Wait, I have lube on the side table,” Tong says, and when Dong sneers at him, he pushes his shoulder with barely any seriousness. “Shut up. My roommate introduced me to it.”
Dong raises an eyebrow questionably.
Tong grumbles. “Not like that. Get your mind off the gutter, Dong.”
“That’s good to know,” Dong says mockingly, just like how Tong said it earlier.
Tong pushes him off, letting Dong fall backwards with a chuckle. Dong shakes his head, smiling at Tong fondly, before leaning away to fumble with his drawer. He fishes out the tube of lube, looking thoroughly amused.
“Are you coming back here or what?”
“So impatient,” Dong says, and despite the teasing, Tong can see the same effect he has on Dong as Dong climbs back towards him. “So needy for me.”
Then, Dong positions himself over Tong’s lap again so he can wrap a palm over the two of them, thumbing at the slit of Tong’s cock where precum has started to leak, his tongue slipping out of his mouth like he wants to savor it. When he finally slides his hand down, holy shit, Tong feels sublime, an explosion of pleasure trickling out of him along with a breathless moan.
Dong carefully watches him and the way their cocks slide in and out of his palm in an agonizingly slow rhythm, almost as if he wants to etch each slip into his memory, but Tong wants him close, wants to kiss him again, wants to taste his tongue and never stop kissing Dong, and so he does.
Tong lifts himself off the wall and pulls Dong by the neck once more, eliciting a surprised chuckle from Dong as he lands a sloppy kiss on the side of his mouth.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Dong says against his lips. He leverages himself closer by wrapping his thighs around Tong, fully sitting on him with their cocks pressed against their stomachs.
And yeah, why didn’t they do this a long time ago? Fuck, this feels so good, Tong’s head going lightheaded at the pleasure of it all.
“I didn’t even know we could.”
The laugh that chimes out of Dong makes Tong’s heart swell. “Yeah, that’s definitely what I thought.”
Dong grabs a fistful of Tong’s hair and tugs him even closer, needier, and his other hand abandons his own cock to cater to Tong’s. He picks up speed as he jerks Tong off, matching the way Tong’s breathing is catching pace. When Tong lets out a provocative and needy whine that he doesn’t even realize can come out of him, Dong smiles down at him, pleased with himself and the pleasure he’s giving. Tong can only look up at him with his mouth hanging open and his eyelids barely fluttering.
The pitter-patter of the rain outside of Tong’s window has gotten louder, each droplet rolling off the roof in loud and rapid splatters, but the stretch of a guttural and long moan that slips out of him when Dong flicks his wrist and speeds up heedlessly is finally loud enough to make his head spin towards the direction of his bedroom door.
“Shit,” Tong says at the same time as Dong, but for different reasons.
When Tong looks down at their stomachs, Dong’s cock is still hard and forsaken, but their skins glisten with a streak of Dong’s cum.
Dong came at just the sound of Tong being pleasured which makes the heat burn even fierier inside Tong again.
Tong chuckles softly and taps his cheek like an affectionate caress. “Dong, what the hell?”
Dong wrinkles his nose up at him cutely, and Tong mirrors it right back.
“Well, that’s new,” Dong says.
There might be degrees of astonishment written all over Dong’s face, but he doesn’t look embarrassed. Instead, he’s just amused, his eyes iridescent. Tong’s never imagined this with Dong—never expected to feel this way, each giggle like a petal unraveling on a flower during spring, the peal of his heartbeat so loud in his eardrums.
Dong slides down his thighs until Tong splits them open for him to settle his ass on the mattress. Tong’s eyes follow the sheen on Dong’s skin and the way Dong marvelously trails a finger down his chiseled abs, spreading his own cum all over himself, looking like he’s a protagonist in one of the porn movies they used to watch back in high school.
Tong grabs his hand impishly and watches Dong’s eyes widen with anticipation as Tong sucks his finger clean, the salty tang of Dong’s cum dancing on his tastebuds.
“You’re insufferable,” is all Dong says, charmed.
“You started it.”
“And I’m going to finish it.”
Dong gets on his knees between Tong’s legs. He moves so swiftly and so strongly when he grabs the back of Tong’s thighs and pulls him lower onto the bed.
“Dong!” Tong yelps faintly with a chuckle as his head lands softly on the mattress.
“I love it when you say my name,” Dong says offhandedly before leaning over Tong and smacking the dimple on his chin. His eyes are determined, and the way his palms run underneath the soft skin behind Tong’s knees to make space for himself makes Tong shudder. He didn’t even know he was sensitive there, didn’t know that a few simple words from Dong could make him dizzy with desire.
“Yeah? You like that?” Tong breathes out in punched-out marvel.
Instead of replying, Dong reaches down to clasp Tong’s cock in his hand, finding rhythm again as he slides up and down Tong’s cock. Tong lets out another grunt that makes Dong smirk and shush him with a light press over his mouth.
“Not too loud, Tong.”
Tong bites his lower lip, this time to make sure as Dong speeds up heedlessly. “Mm.”
Endeared, Dong licks the seam of where Tong is biting his lip. Tong makes another pleased noise.
“But don’t be too quiet. I obviously like to hear you. Just try not to let your parents wake up and know what we’re doing up here.”
Then Dong is kissing Tong again, this time with a purpose. Tong wraps his arms over Dong’s neck as he lands his mouth on Tong’s jaw, on a dimple up to the tops of his cheek, a feathery touch to his eyelid. It’s like Dong is mapping a constellation on his face, navigating through all of Tong and kissing each feature of his like it’s a treasure of its own. Tong runs his fingertips over the softness of Dong’s hair like an encouragement. Tong takes sharp inhales with every kiss, each of them blazing against Tong’s skin, matching the cadence of Dong’s hand wrapped over his cock.
“Tell me when you’re close,” Dong says onto his cheek. “I want you in my mouth when you come.”
Which. Well. He shouldn’t be surprised, not after what he just pulled off licking Dong’s cum off his fingertip, but this makes him muffle a grunt on Dong’s shoulder blade. “Fuck, Dong. You can’t just say that.”
“But I do. I want to taste you too,” Dong says, nipping at the shell of his ear. “I want it everywhere. Want it in my mouth. On the tip of my tongue. Come all over me. Come inside me.” That elicits a full body shiver from Tong, and he crumbles, another lewd whine rolling off his tongue and shooting directly on Dong’s earshot.
Tong slaps a needy palm on his back, his touch scorching, nails scratching against Dong’s shoulder. Dong knows he’s close, can tell with the way Tong can barely keep his eyes open underneath him, like he’s seeing the image of coming all over Dong at the back of his eyelids.
“Are you thinking about it?” Dong whispers temptingly. “Do you want that, Tong? Coming inside me?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tong exhales, eyelids fluttering just enough to see Dong pull back and lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth like a tender scolding. “Is this—do you—have you done this with someone else?”
“You can answer that for yourself,” is all Dong says.
Tong’s eyes loll back as Dong shifts away from him to level himself with Tong’s knees. Tong props his elbows onto the bed, lifting himself to watch. Tong waits desperately for what Dong seems to plan on doing. Fuck, he looks so good like this, smirking like a nuisance as he anchors himself and runs his hands up and down and squeezes Tong’s thighs, eyes hazy with so much want that Tong can’t break his gaze away from it. Tong watches as half of Dong’s face disappears into the bush of hair between his legs, nosing his way down until Tong feels his balls tighten as Dong lays his tongue flat against it and drags upwards. Tong throws his head back with another grunt, his legs thrashing against the sheets, feeling the tingles all the way to the tips of his toes as Dong licks the tip of Tong’s cock.
“Fuck, Dong,” Tong curses as Dong tongues the slit, his breath going jagged. He whips his head again towards the door and feels the heat of Dong’s mouth before he sees it.
Tong feels boneless through it all, weak underneath Dong’s spellbinding touches. Dong almost purrs underneath him, his mouth vibrating around Tong’s cock. He demands Tong’s hand over his hair, so Tong curls his hand over it and squeezes, making Dong make another noise around his dick.
Contrary to the implication of his last statement, Dong is a little sloppy, a bit too overeager, clearly inexperienced, but still—the picture of Dong under him, sucking his cock, his eyes hazy with so much inexplicable want it makes Tong swim drunkenly in them; the feeling of sweet and wet heat wrapped around Tong, the way he can feel Dong breathe through his nose against the bushes over his pubic bone—it’s all overwhelming, the warmth pooling around his heart and his belly and to the tips of his toes and fingers, and Tong can feel his orgasm build up and ripple in tumultuous waves at just the sight of it. Tong is pretty sure Dong has not done this before, but rather than it being a let-down, it amplifies the frenzy washing through Tong, knowing that Dong wanted this. Wants this. Wants to keep doing it even when Tong can see the tears pooling at the corners of Dong’s eyes and yet he goes deeper, taking all of Tong in, his palm meeting up where his mouth ends and his nose digging down Tong’s skin.
Tong squeezes around Dong’s hair and pulls him off as he comes, spurting inside Dong’s mouth and all over his lips, his cheek, his nose, his eyes. Tong can’t help it, his pants intensely going, “ah, ah, ah,” and his legs shaking through his orgasm and his entire body tingling with pleasure as he watches it unfold.
When Tong comes down from the high is when he realizes the gravity of the sight in front of him: Dong’s face painted with pearlescent streaks of his cum, one eye half open to peer at Tong, and a silly, lopsided smile on his face. It makes laughter bubble out of Tong knowing that they’ve definitely jumped high on the baseline of where they used to stand and it’s fine. Everything is fine. Better, even.
Dong hovers on top of him, barely able to open one eye. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Sorry, I thought you said you wanted me to come all over you.”
“I meant—never mind,” Dong says, but he’s laughing now.
“It was so worth it,” Tong says, breathless as he kisses Dong again and again until he’s smiling against Dong’s lips, his own cum smearing all over his face. It should bother him. It really should. Except it feels nice to bask in all of this with Dong in such close reach. “Fuck. That felt amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“We should probably clean up though.”
Dong wrinkles his nose. “Definitely. It’s starting to stick.”
They don’t talk about it as Tong and Dong finally make their way to the bathroom across Tong’s bedroom with half-attempts at being stealthy, Dong comically guiding himself with Tong’s love handles and his eyes closed. Tong’s parents’ loud snores echo in the hallway, a good indication enough to know not to worry about being caught. Still, they make a play out of it as they tread around with their naked butts kissing the cold air sweeping through. Tong swats his hand away when Dong squeezes one side with a little chuckle escaping out of him, and when he doesn’t lose his ridiculous grin, Tong bumps his front with his naked ass. His eyes make brief contact with the wall where his old poster lady used to reside, and Tong finds himself smiling secretly at this whole ordeal before Dong retaliates by pushing him with his hip towards the bathroom door.
When the door gets shut, it becomes uncharacteristically quiet as Tong wets his towel and starts wiping Dong’s face down and then his stomach next. It still feels surreal knowing what they’ve done, a burst of glee swimming all over Tong.
But the smile on Dong’s face has softened. Tong knows him well enough to know he’s deep in his head—as rare as that normally comes. When Tong rests the damp towel against his cheek, he finally sees it: the realization that after this, they’re not going to go back to what they used to be.
And while Tong has already known that, already looks forward to whatever the future throws their way, Dong seems apprehensive, fear smothering the sunshine aura he just had a few minutes ago. Tong can’t blame him; he was literally just whining about getting over Lin less than an hour ago. Tong also knows it must be because Dong doesn’t know what Tong feels about this—about him.
It startles Dong out of his trance when Tong reaches out and pushes back his damp hair. They pause, letting their gazes sizzle towards one another, and Tong leans in to kiss him.
It’s just like the first kiss they had earlier in the night: affectionate and pleasant, a calming presence in the storm Tong presumes to be brewing in Dong’s head.
“I think I could do better next time,” Tong whispers against Dong’s lips. “What do you say?”
For a moment, Tong wonders if he said the wrong thing. Dong’s eyes are earnestly confused.
“You don’t have to,” Dong says quietly. “I just wanted to help a little. I told you, sometimes I do things with no strings attached.”
But Tong can spot that sliver of insecurity in Dong’s eyes, knows it like the back of his hand, and he wonders how he didn’t see this coming at all. It means everything to him to make sure that it doesn’t last very long. Tong knows tonight is not going to be their last. He doesn’t want it to be. He just needs to make sure Dong does too.
Tong finishes off cleaning himself and Dong as swiftly as he could. Wordlessly, he washes his hand. Dong watches him, unsure what to do. “Wait here,” he tells Dong then leaves him behind, a crumple on his forehead forming from Tong’s peripheral.
When he comes back, Dong is bent on the sink, washing his hands. It makes Tong smile again as he leans against the door frame, watching the hard lines on Dong’s back and the perfect curve of his ass. He waits until Dong dries his hands and meets his gaze on the mirror above the sink.
Something thin glints under the cool, bright light of Tong’s bathroom.
Dong blinks at Tong’s reflection, face morphing into even more confusion as Tong twirls something around his fingers.
Tong takes a step next to him and Dong takes a step back.
“Give me your hand.”
“Why?”
Tong huffs, but a fond smile dances on his lips. “I’m giving you my answer.”
“I didn’t ask you anything.”
“You said why.”
Hesitantly, Dong lifts his hand up. Tong steps forward, closing the gap between them, and there it is: one of the springs from the Valentine’s Day headband that Dong was wearing earlier, except it’s broken off and straightened out. Dong looks like he’s stopped breathing, frozen still as Tong brings their pinkies together and wraps the metal string around them. It’s cool against their skins, but Tong’s pinky pressed against his makes Dong’s skin burn.
“I’ll do it with a string attached then.”
Something akin to a choked off sob makes Tong look up. Dong’s face has crumpled into an unexplainable expression, one of confusion and awe and happiness all intermixed into an endearing folded face. Tong tries not to break into a laugh.
“Are you gonna cry?”
Dong sniffs, straightening his back, making his face stoic. “Who said I’m crying?” It breaks after ten seconds. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m not the one looking like that,” Tong says.
“Yeah, but,” Dong says, lips quivering, chest heaving. “You don’t like me like that.”
“Oh, shut up, Dong,” is all Tong says, reeling him in for another kiss.
The heat of Dong’s lips against his escalates into their bodies pressed together again. Chest to chest, nose to nose, breathing each other in as the kiss smolders from one to the next. Tong can smell the faint hint of salty tang on his skin, which makes his mind sizzle with memories from earlier tonight. It ignites a need to keep Dong close, to kiss him until Tong can make up for all the kisses they could have had.
“Ah, I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Tong says when they break off, smiling into the kiss. “You do have a date for Valentine’s Day.”
“Took you long enough to realize that.”
“Took a long time to realize quite a lot.”
Dong’s smile is as warm as the sunrise. Tong can’t wait to watch sunlight seep through his window with Dong tucked under his arm.
But for now, he basks in the warmth of Dong’s lips against his.
They leave their hands intertwined as they settle into bed again, their knees occasionally bumping against each other until they stay with Dong’s right foot planted over the top of Tong’s left ankle, his big toe gingerly running up and down his skin. It feels pleasant. It feels intimate, especially with whispers of, “hey, do you really like me? Say it again,” from both sides echoing along with the orchestra of their giggles in the room.
And just like that, they fall asleep tethered to one another, heartstrings tangled together, the plastic heart sticking out of their pinkies for the rest of the night.
*
“Hey, Dong?”
“Hm?”
“So it does go down sometimes, huh?”
“What does?”
Dong feels Tong’s hand before he hears his voice. “Your di—”
It’s too late. Something’s about to go up again.
But it’s okay, because Tong thinks he has an easy solution to that big problem.