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It’s less of a hookup and more of a hangout, Seonghyeon tells himself. He proves this because before they started making out and grinding on each other, him and Martin were playing Overwatch. It’d be a hookup if Martin came up to his dorm and immediately started feeling him up from the get-go, but he was a good friend and waited for Seonghyeon to be vulnerable and itching to do something else after losing for the fifth time.
Martin also happens to be a very good kisser, alongside all his other beneficial qualities. Seonghyeon melts beside him, melts onto the couch, melts beneath him as he drags him down. It’s like he’s trapped between the cushions and Martin’s broad shoulders and soft lips. And he doesn’t feel claustrophobic at all. Honestly, realizing he has nowhere to go just turns him on even more.
Above him, Martin sighs into the kiss. It’s a very sweet, soft thing. A hard turn from the grunt he’d made when Seonghyeon’s thigh rubbed against his clothed crotch.
Out of nothing but pure curiosity, he slides his hand down from Martin’s bicep, feels the curve of his waist and abdomen as it passes by them, and cups Martin’s bulge with his slim fingers. Just to see what noise he might make this time.
It’s a cross between a gasp and a moan, both caught off guard and aroused. A giddy smile plasters itself onto Seonghyeon’s face, proud of himself for pulling a noise that unbearably hot out of Martin—who, for the most part, is silent if not for his occasional breaths.
He continues to rub softly against his crotch, providing a fraction of pressure where he knows Martin is itching for more. And maybe in his own way, Martin asks for more: he latches his teeth onto Seonghyeon’s lower lip and tugs at it. Seonghyeon can’t help but let himself moan, spilling from spit-covered lips.
When he keeps his touch light evenso, Martin detaches from him and says, “You’re killing me, man.”
“Hm?” Seonghyeon hums, innocent as ever, despite fighting a stupid smirk down.
“You’re, like, tickling my dick.”
He wants to quip back something snarky, or funny, or stupid, but even more, he wants Martin to shut up and kiss him again. To bypass asking for this, Seonghyeon gives in. He (skillfully one-handedly) unbuttons Martin’s jeans, and without a word, they work together in pulling them off.
“You, too,” Martin says. Seonghyeon waits patiently as big hands undo his drawstrings and slide his sweatpants down. “Fuck. You’re so hot.” He can’t help but flush as Martin’s eyes scan his lower half: his revealed abdomen, tented briefs, smooth thighs, slender legs.
He always forgets how to act normal when he gets like this, all embarrassed and self-conscious, so Seonghyeon idiotically comments, “I feel like Winnie the Pooh like this.”
Martin is kind enough to not make a face at him. Instead, he just laughs and offers, “Let’s get your shirt off too, then?”
Like a little kid, he holds his hands above his head as Martin removes his shirt. He then lifts his own shirt from his back collar, a movement that makes Seonghyeon a little dizzy. Maybe it’s just the cold air on his skin, he reasons.
Seonghyeon’s never been critical of bodies, but with Martin’s lithe torso, perfectly molded ribs and bones, and toned stomach right in front of him, it’s a little hard not to stare. His stature both towers and spans over him, width and length consumed by him. Just the breadth of his torso feels as though it completely encompasses Seonghyeon. It’s so…Martin. Even the moles on his sides and chest endear him. And turn him on. It’s a weird mixture of feelings, finding your friend cute and also wanting him to shove his dick inside of you.
Stripped down to nothing but their underwear, it’s a magical feeling when Martin replants himself atop and their dicks rub against one another, only two thin layers of fabric separating them. “ Fuck, ” Seonghyeon moans, eyes fluttering shut as Martin grinds his hips lightly. The friction is godly.
“Yeah?” Martin quirks up, preening. “This’ll feel even better.” He grabs Seonghyeon’s legs and wraps them around his torso, ankles crossed over his width, pushes his thighs close to his chest, making Seonghyeon feel even smaller, and grinds at the new angle.
Seonghyeon swears he sees stars.
It’s hard to explain in words the pure pleasure that blooms from the touch. It seeps through the fabric of skin, into his bloodstream, and flows throughout his entire body. With every thrust of Martin’s, a new hiccup of a moan dares to escape his throat.
“Fuck, Martin–”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Martin’s voice wavers despite his confidence, clearly affected by the grinding too. It’s friction against his own cock just as much as it’s friction against Martin’s, and knowing they’re feeling the same pleasure right now just heightens Seonghyeon’s arousal.
His speed quickens, and that hiccup-moan is pulled from his throat and spills into the empty air. “Kiss me,” Seonghyeon says in between soft moans. Martin doesn’t hesitate.
It’s the combination of their lips mashed together and Martin’s clothed dick rubbing against his, feeling even through the fabric their skin moving together, their bodies working in sync as Martin thrusts his hips back and forth and Seonghyeon ruts his hips up and down. It’s like clockwork, like a missing puzzle piece found, like fireworks exploding in the night sky. Seonghyeon finds himself dizzy again, but instead of reasoning with it, he just melts into the fuzzy feeling.
And he can feel how much bigger Martin is, both in body and cock. Even with his eyes closed, he knows that surrounding him is nothing but Martin and it’s his length that’s overpowering his own.
He doesn’t realize how loud he’s being, moaning and whining into the kisses, until Martin pauses just to say, “You’re so sexy, fuck, you sound so hot,” and returns right back to kissing him. It’s a compliment that has Seonghyeon flushing down to his chest.
The heat and friction of the grinding is nonstop, and although it hasn’t been long, Seonghyeon is embarrassingly close to coming. Not wanting it all to end, he warns, “Martin, I’m gonna– I’m close.”
Martin not only quickens his pace, dragging a whine from Seonghyeon’s lips, but his hand moves from holding his thigh in place, travels down the soft skin and trails past their dicks, and without warning, he glides his large fingers along Seonghyeon’s taint and balls.
With a broken moan, Seonghyeon comes, shameful and pleasured. Martin follows him soon after, but not before dragging the orgasm fully from his cock, draining every last drop he could offer.
Seonghyeon pants. Martin pants harder.
“Fuck me,” he says after a minute or so of catching their breath. “Fuck.”
Martin laughs. “Maybe next time.”
At the thought of Martin actually fucking him, another rush of arousal runs through his body and his spent dick aches a little. How much prep would he need just to fit the tip in? When fully inside, he might even be able to see the outline of his dick in his skin. That’d be hot. Seonghyeon, not for the final time, gets dizzy.
He thinks he needs to get his mind off of Martin for his own sanity. As Martin grabs for his clothes, he asks, "Overwatch now?"
"Is that all I am to you? A fuckbuddy and teammate?"
"No, you're more than that. You're like, a fuckbestie."
"Awesome," Martin deadpans. "Put your clothes on, Eomma."
The nickname...doesn't annoy Seonghyeon. Maybe there's something there, he thinks. Something that will be saved for next time.