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Jo isn't dumb. Jo knows he's attractive and that he has a certain… image to other people. Tall, strong, stoic. On the rare occasion that one of his friends (usually Nicholas) manages to drag him out to a bar, his neck prickles from the interested stares of guys and girls alike. The attention always makes his ears redden, but he ignores it. They'd be disappointed to get to know the real him, anyway.
Yuma getting to know Jo wasn't planned, nor did it start with any ravenous, assuming looks from across a dimly-lit room.
It was a typical afternoon, with Jo slowly going through the shelves of the library and reorganizing them. His assistant librarian job didn't have much of a salary, but at least it gave him a little extra to treat himself with. Plus, the senior librarians were nice, and never berated him when he spent too long distracted—like now, poring over a book he found in the Art Studies section.
He was just about to turn the page when a tap on his shoulder made him jump. He looked up to see a boy around his age, shorter, a sheepish smile on his face.
"Sorry if I scared you," he said, "I tried calling to get your attention first but you weren't budging. Must be an interesting book ya got there." Without warning, the boy leaned in close to Jo to peer at the book, open to a spread of abstract paintings with tiny paragraphs of commentary next to them.
The boy is close enough that Jo gets a whiff of the boy's perfume—citrusy with a hint of spice, something sharper under the surface.
The boy whistled. "Abstract art, huh? Really cool. Suits your vibe." He gave Jo a not-so-subtle once-over. With a grin that revealed all the points of his teeth, he stepped back out of Jo's space.
"Uh, hi, yes," Jo stammered, overwhelmed with the boy's ability to say every thought out loud like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Sorry, did you need anything?"
"Oh, yeah." The boy flipped his phone screen over to Jo, open to a screenshot of a physics textbook cover. "D'you know where I could find this?"
Right, his job. He didn't even know why he just got hit with a pang of disappointment. He set down the book he was holding and straightened his back, leading the boy down a few shelves. "This way."
They found the book he needed, and Jo assisted him with the self-checkout system. Right before leaving, the boy turned back to Jo.
"Thank you," a pause, glancing somewhere below Jo's eye-level, "Jo-san." And then he was out the door.
The warmth of outside air flooded in, alongside a whirlwind of strange emotions Jo had to sort through and file away in their proper spots. Jo twisted his fingers in his lanyard, the print of his name flashing with the glossy sheen of his work ID.
The boy would come back to the library the next day, finally introducing himself as Yuma, an engineering student in the same year as Jo. He'd come back the next day and the next, making some excuse about having a new assigned textbook, or forgetting his umbrella, always making a point to find Jo wherever he was stationed that day. Jo wasn't dumb, and he wasn't blind either; he could tell Yuma was interested in him. But something about his attention made Jo smile shyly to himself when no one was looking, instead of prickle with discomfort. Yuma leaned closer into Jo's personal bubble than he'd allow most people, and he made poorly-disguised attempts to flirt in the form of bad jokes, but Jo… didn't mind. Yuma was earnest and confident, sometimes laughing a tad too loud for the library and someone else had to shush him because Jo wouldn't. He was also scarily pretty—hair that fell into calculated place, piercings that twinkled in the fluorescent light, a smile that compelled Jo to lower all his shields. Yuma had sharp eyes, a sharp mind and tongue, sharp everything. Jo wanted him to keep prodding.
On the last day of the week, Yuma strolled into the library five minutes before closing, five minutes before the end of Jo's shift. This time, Jo was sitting at the reception desk.
Yuma came up and planted his hands on the edge of the desk as if to ground himself, forcing Jo to crane his neck up higher to look at him.
"Jo-kun." (The shift in honorific was adopted by Yuma soon after finding out they were the same age. Jo still called him Yuma-san.) He said the rest in one breath, not breaking eye contact with Jo, "I'm not gonna beat around the bush, I think you're really cute. Will you go on a date with me?"
There was no word in Jo's head except for yes.
Jo thought getting into his first relationship would be terrifying. At the age of twenty, his friends were all dating or finding hookups while Jo had never even had his first kiss. At the age of twenty-one, Jo met Yuma, and dating Yuma was as easy as breathing.
The day Yuma asked him out, he had taken Jo to the nearby hot pot restaurant for dinner. Yuma led the conversation, and Jo was thankful for it. They chatted without having to worry about volume, and found out they had a lot in common—a shared taste in shows, interest in art, and love of cats. When Yuma made a passing mention of a shitty ex, Jo confided that he'd never been with anyone romantically before and the look in Yuma's eyes softened. Yuma didn't say anything, only teased him about the way his thick-rimmed glasses fogged over from the steam, while passing another cut of meat into Jo's bowl. Jo passed off the blush in his cheeks as coming from the warmth of the soup.
That was months ago, near the start of the year when the cold of winter had freshly given in to spring. It was approaching summer now, temperatures steadily climbing. Yuma seemed committed to taking their relationship slow, almost achingly so, clearly waiting on Jo to make the first moves. They hadn't shared a kiss until a month together, when they were out on a walk together and Yuma wouldn't stop looking at him. Jo, unable to take the weight of his gaze anymore, had pulled Yuma into the shade of a tree and kissed him with uncoordinated lips. Yuma sighed like he'd been waiting his whole life for it, then pulled Jo in closer by the collar to show him how to kiss the proper way.
Their mutual attraction to each other was a given, but they seemed constantly in a game to see who would break faster when it came to taking the next steps in their relationship. Yuma hardly touched Jo anywhere besides his hands or shoulders, out of some kind of chivalrous respect for Jo's inexperience. Jo wished he'd be less of a perfect man, more willing to push.
Jo, meanwhile, held back out of fear. Kissing Yuma first was a fluke of instinct; he rarely had bravery or guts otherwise to unveil the force of his desires.
Tonight, there's something heavier in the air. Jo is lounging about on Yuma's bed, scrolling restlessly on TikTok while trying not to search for Yuma's smell in the sheets like a freak. It's not his first time sleeping over at Yuma's apartment, but it feels… different. They'd split a bottle of soju over dinner to celebrate the end of finals season. With alcohol in their bloodstreams and no deadlines or exams hanging over them, their bodies relaxed, touches lingering as they sat close to watch old K-drama episodes. There's an unaddressed spark flaring with each point they make contact, an unfamiliar weight to their words as they exchange their usual banter. It diffuses slightly when they separate to wash up, Yuma letting Jo shower first while Yuma did the dishes.
Yuma's taking his turn in the shower now. The sound of his sweet singing tapers off right as the water shuts off. A few minutes later, he exits, stepping into the bedroom. He's shirtless.
The spark reignites.
Yuma at least had the decency to wear shorts. Jo knows Yuma runs hot, that he rarely bothers wearing a shirt to sleep, but Jo's still unable to keep his eyes from wandering. Yuma's gym sessions are clearly paying off, arms looking thicker by the day, toned torso complementing his narrow waist. A few rivulets drip from his still-damp hair, trickling down his chest and stomach, disappearing into his waistband. Jo gulps.
Yuma, fine-tuned to Jo's reactions as always, takes notice.
"Like what you see, big boy?" he teases, leaning on the doorframe. The casual pose only serves to highlight the fine lines of his body even more.
Jo looks up, into Yuma's devilish eyes. He decides, today is as good a time as any to be tempted. "Yeah," he answers, "I really do." The hoarseness of his voice catches him by surprise, layered with a sincerity begging to be heard.
Yuma hears the catch in his voice. He crosses the room in two, three strides, standing in front of Jo. Yuma's hands fall on Jo's shoulders, a finger coming to tilt Jo's chin up gently. Jo can almost see his own reflection of want in Yuma's eyes.
"Jo, can I…?" he trails off, like he's not even sure what he's asking for.
"Yes," Jo says, not waiting for him to finish his sentence.
Yuma crashes his lips into Jo's, using his leverage on Jo's shoulders to press in deeper. There's no pretense, Yuma's wet tongue immediately seeking access into Jo's mouth, and Jo opens himself easily. The room feels hotter by a few degrees, and it's not only from the steam of the shower seeping through the open door. The air is thick with the same unspoken desire they've both been nursing for weeks. Their walls crumble in front of each other now. Yuma climbs onto bed, falling into Jo's lap like he belongs there. They've made out before, but nothing as intense as this. Yuma tastes like toothpaste mint and the heat of a thousand suns, burning bright against his mouth. Jo gasps every time one of Yuma's sharp canines catches on his lips, and he's memorized the shape of Yuma grinning into their kisses. Yuma doesn't hold an inch of himself back, and Jo mirrors him in sweet harmony.
Yuma's hands search, first cradling Jo's jaw, then exploring across Jo's whole upper half over his shirt. Jo is a bit self-conscious about how he's not as bulky as Yuma, but the other man just hums appreciatively into Jo's mouth. His hands eventually come to settle back on Jo's shoulders, thumbs brushing against the exposed divots of his collarbones. Meanwhile, Yuma has so much smooth skin exposed, Jo doesn't know where he would even begin to touch. His palms find Yuma's hips, the only clothed part of him. The tips of his fingers just slightly graze the bare skin above Yuma's waistband, and he shivers in Jo's hold.
Yuma detaches his mouth, a desperate look in his eyes as he catches his breath over Jo. Something hard presses against the top of Jo's hip, its presence undeniable. "I–" Yuma pants, "I've got lube and condoms in the drawer."
Jo freezes under him, deer in the headlights. Oh. Right. Of course Yuma would want Jo to fuck him. It's been a long time coming, after all.
Yuma misinterprets Jo's sudden stillness, regret washing over his face. "Shit, sorry, if you don't want to, we can stop here…"
Jo nearly breaks his neck at the speed he shakes his head. "No! I mean– I just–" he splutters, struggling to pick out the right words. "I want…" Panic rises in Jo's throat. What if he doesn't want me like this?
"What is it you want?" Yuma prompts kindly. The thumb he has resting on Jo's left collarbone goes to rub soothing circles into his chest, and Jo realizes that his heart is hammering.
Jo closes his eyes, inhales and exhales deeply to calm himself down. He breathes in the smell of Yuma's shampoo, and it's what finally gets him to pour his heart out.
"You know I've never done this before, so I don't know if I'll be any good. Can… Can you take care of me?"
After the silence goes on too long, Jo blinks his eyes open, terrified of what disappointed expression he'll find on Yuma's face.
Instead, Yuma looks positively hungry. "Oh, Jojo." He grins, eyes glinting with delight. "What makes you think I wasn't gonna take care of you? You're adorable." He leans in to lave at Jo's mouth, bites at his trembling lips, and it's less like kissing him and more like trying to eat him alive. At the same time, Yuma pushes Jo to lie back on the bed, maneuvering him so he's laying properly against the pillows.
"Off with this," Yuma tugs at the hem of Jo's shirt. This bossy tone isn't the usual gentle way Yuma speaks to Jo, and it makes heat lick up the base of his spine. "And get rid of those stupid pants too. Ugh, I can't believe you sleep fully clothed."
While Jo undresses as instructed, Yuma leans away to grab the lube himself. He drops the bottle next to the pillows and the pit of arousal in Jo's gut flares up. This is really happening.
As Jo settles back down in nothing but his underwear, clothes shoved away to be dealt with later, Yuma is already staring at him. Jo sweats under the heaviness in his eyes. "Pretty," he breaths, dragging a hand down Jo's side. Jo suppresses a shiver from the ticklish touch.
"My handsome Jo." He drags his hand down lower, over Jo's hip. Jo bites his lip as Yuma skips over the place he needs his touch the most. Yuma squeezes Jo's upper thigh, grip almost bruising.
Yuma leans in close, tilts his head to whisper into Jo's ear, "I'll take real good care of you for your first time, baby." He moves in to suck hickeys at Jo's neck as his hand finally, finally brushes over Jo's clothed erection, and Jo can't hold back a pathetic whimper.
Yuma chuckles darkly against his neck. "So cute. I wonder what other sounds I can get out of you." Yuma sucks a few more hickeys, and Jo distantly hopes the marks will last a while. Once he's satisfied, Yuma grabs the waistband of Jo's underwear and takes it off without dragging for time any longer.
Jo's cock springs to attention, already hard. Yuma smirks, "You've waited so long for me, haven't you?" Jo just nods for him.
Yuma strokes a hand loosely around the length, making Jo clutch at the sheets for purchase. His other hand cups Jo's balls, stroking there for a few moments before suddenly dipping lower, a finger circling Jo's rim.
"Have you ever fingered yourself before, Jo?" Yuma asks. There's a coy expression on his face, playing at innocence, all while he presses the pad of his finger firmer against Jo's hole, testing the give of it.
Memories of sleepless nights in his room flood in, and Jo feels his face burn bright red. Curse his human lie detector of a blush. A particularly recent memory flashes in mind's eye, one where he'd jacked off to the thought of Yuma, and his cock twitches in Yuma's hold. He throws his head back onto the pillows and stares at the ceiling to stave off the embarrassment.
Yuma laughs a bit cruelly, but his pupils are dilated with arousal. "I'll take that as a yes. But… you probably haven't tried this before."
Before Jo can ask what this is, a wet sensation prods at his hole, too warm to be a lubed finger. Jo jolts in shock, and his whole body shakes as Yuma laps at Jo with his tongue.
"Yuma, oh my God, ah–!" Jo writhes as he takes in all the sensations: Yuma's wet tongue circling and shallowly fucking into his hole, nails digging into Jo's thigh where one hand holds him open, Yuma's other hand lazily jerking Jo's cock. It feels so dirty, the warmth of Yuma's breaths against Jo's hole, shattering him apart with something so soft as a mouth.
Yuma alternates between eating him out and gracing his inner thighs with love bites, much harsher than the hickeys he left on Jo's neck. Yuma's teeth are as sharp as they look, but just as Jo thinks he'll actually break skin, Yuma switches back to using his tongue, so gentle on his sensitive skin it aches. God, I'm not going to be able to sit down without wincing for the whole week. The thought makes him harden even more.
Heat slowly builds in Jo's core as Yuma teases him, none of the sensations enough to bring Jo to the edge but enough together to reduce Jo to a useless pile of limbs, begging Yuma for more.
When Yuma leans away, Jo almost whimpers at the loss, but the heated press of his tongue is swiftly replaced by a cool finger teasing into his hole. It slips in with little resistance, Jo's hole already loosened up somewhat from Yuma eating him out. Yuma groans at the sight of it (and the sound does something to Jo), "Look at you, taking me in so easily."
"Please, I can take another," Jo breathes. Yuma's finger is thick, thicker than Jo's own fingers, but he knows one is nowhere near enough. Now that he's here, at the mercy of Yuma, he wants nothing more than to be filled. Try as he might to ignore it, he can't help but notice the way Yuma's tenting in his shorts, the silhouette unmistakably sizeable.
"Patience, baby," Yuma shushes. He slips a second lubed-up finger in next to the first, and Jo finally feels the beginnings of a stretch. Jo groans as Yuma shallowly pumps his fingers in to let him adjust, at the same time his free hand caresses Jo's thigh to ground him. "You're doing so well."
After a minute, Yuma slowly inserts a third finger, and Jo sighs with the delicious stretch. Yuma twists his fingers as he pumps them inside Jo, going a bit deeper, and he brushes against a spot that nearly makes Jo's vision white out.
"O–oh!" Jo moans, the sound punched out of him. He clamps a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Yuma meanwhile, looks ecstatic.
"Found it," he says. And Yuma is truly evil, because he draws his fingers out and thrusts them back in with purpose, aiming for the same spot and hitting bullseye. Jo jerks, sparks of pleasure lighting up across his spine, "Ah, ah!"
Yuma keeps fingerfucking Jo while his free hand strokes Jo's cock, revelling in the way Jo writhes under him. Until Jo is suddenly hurtling toward the edge, a telltale heat building in his gut, and he has to plead for Yuma to stop.
"Wait, I'm gonna–" Jo chokes.
"Close already? You really are sensitive."
"Yuma, please, just fuck me already–"
"Didn't know you had such vulgar words in you," Yuma chuckles lightly, but with the hurried way he drags his fingers out of Jo and kicks his shorts and underwear off, it's obvious he's just as pent-up and desperate.
Jo catches sight of Yuma's cock while he rolls a condom on, and Jo swears he starts drooling on the spot. It's about as long as Jo's own member, but (just like his fingers) it's thicker. Yuma pours more lube into his palm and strokes himself a few times, low groans escaping his chest. He catches Jo watching and flashes his signature grin, at once affectionate and teasing, sweet and devastating.
Yuma leans in to press one kiss to the corner of Jo's lips, cloyingly chaste. And then he's flipping Jo onto his hands and knees with easy strength, aligning his cock to Jo's entrance, but he doesn't yet push in. He grinds himself against Jo's ass, the slick sounds of lube on skin echoing throughout the room, and Jo squirms every time Yuma's tip catches on his hole but doesn't slip inside.
Jo is not above begging. He's been keyed up for too long. He's fantasized about Yuma on him like this for too long. He just wants Yuma, Yuma, Yuma. "Please," Jo begs, "Stop teasing."
And just as easily as Jo had fallen for Yuma's charms the first time they'd met, Yuma gives himself in to Jo.
Yuma pushes in slowly, forcing Jo to feel every crushing inch of him. Jo was right, Yuma is thicker than him, and the stretch is something he's never felt before, something he's never been close to achieving with his own fingers. There's a slight pinch of pain, but the pleasure of being filled is so overwhelmingly good that his mind blanks any other sensation out. Yuma's hands are anchored around Jo's hips, thumbprints branding themselves into the dimples of Jo's lower back. After a few moments that feel like eternities, he's fully seated inside Jo.
Any semblance of pain soon evaporates, and Jo melts into the bedsheets, muscles relaxing around the intrusion. "You can move now," he says, so soft it might as well have been a whisper, but Yuma hears him all the same.
Yuma drags his hips back, until only the tip is inside Jo, and then he thrusts forward in one swift motion. "Fuck, you're perfect for me, Jojo." He repeats the motion, the force of it pitching Jo forwards.
Each movement is painfully slow yet rewardingly deep—Yuma's sheer strength and body control on display. It's like he knows exactly how to break Jo down into a mindless mess. His hot breaths cast over Jo's back from where he's bent over him, signs of the effort he's exerting to make this feel good for Jo. Jo sighs. He couldn't have asked for anyone more perfect to give all his firsts to.
Jo's arms weaken with Yuma's every thrust, until he simply gives up on holding himself up and falls limp against the bed. He inhales, face buried in the linens, and finds Yuma's familiar scent there. Yuma, all around him. Yuma with his sharp and composed exterior, yet endlessly gentle and patient when it comes to Jo. Yuma, fucking deep into Jo right now like he's wanted nothing more, and Jo sobs in pleasure, the sound of it muffled.
Yuma finally notices the way Jo's face is pressed into his pillows, and he stills to a stop. "Wait," he says, pulling out.
Jo whines at the sudden emptiness. He doesn't believe a wanton noise like that could come from his own mouth, and warmth floods his cheeks. With a brief lucidity, he looks behind him to see what had made Yuma stop.
Except his vision is spinning, and he's been turned around onto his back. Dazed, he looks up at Yuma bent over him, his chest heaving and sweat beading down his temples. His brows are furrowed in focus while his eyes are alight with feverish heat.
"I wanted to hear you properly, want to see your face when you fall apart under me," Yuma says. Yuma manhandles Jo, throwing his long legs over his shoulders, and Jo flushes with the way the position exposes his hole to Yuma, still dripping with lube. Yuma realigns his cock with it, and enters in one smooth move, in sync with Jo's exhale.
The new angle makes him brush right against Jo's prostate. With Yuma attentive over him, Jo can't hide the way he gapes at the sensation.
Yuma's face breaks open in satisfaction. "There you are, baby. How does it feel? Getting fucked like this?" He thrusts in again, and again, always at the same angle, dancer-perfect precision. Each rock forward folds him into Jo, bending his body in half— Jo wants to break under Yuma.
"Feels so– ah– good…" Jo shakes under him, unable to speak straight with the way he gasps on each thrust.
"Yeah? Gonna let me ruin you for anyone else after me?" Yuma says, voice breathy as he maintains his rhythm.
'After me'? What is he on about? Jo has enough awareness in him to shake his head. "Don't want… anyone but you… Yuma-kun…"
It's the closest thing to a confession that's come out of either of their mouths. Sure, they were in an exclusive relationship for months now, but they had yet to speak the L-bomb into existence, something still fragile and precious about the affection between them.
Yuma hears the candor in Jo's words, and his hips stutter, falling out of their controlled pace.
"Shit, Jo, you're so good to me," Yuma gasps. He thrusts forward, harder, faster now. "Are you close?"
Jo has been teetering closer to the edge ever since Yuma had flipped him over to face each other. He nods, "Yeah, I'm close. Just ah– a bit more…!"
Yuma licks his lips, his teasing confidence giving way to the magnitude of his desire. "Touch yourself. Wanna see you come for me, Jo." His arms are braced on the mattress on either side of Jo's shoulders. His limbs flex with the effort of holding himself up while fucking Jo. Yuma, strong and beautiful over Jo, breathes heavy in single-minded focus to bring Jo to completion.
Jo snakes a hand down to his leaking cock pinned between their rocking bodies. He cries out in sensitivity, the touch like fire against his skin. His other hand searches blindly, and Yuma meets him, intertwining his fingers with Jo's.
"C'mon, Jo. Show m' how good I make you feel," Yuma mumbles, words slurring together. A drop of sweat drips off his chin, falling onto Jo's chest.
Jo only needs to stroke himself once, twice in tandem with Yuma's thrusts, brushes his palm against his aching tip— And then he's climaxing, flames consuming every single nerve ending, hips kicking simultaneously into and away from all the stimulation. White streaks of come spatter across both his and Yuma's stomachs. His eyes slip shut as he fucks himself back onto Yuma's cock, riding out his high while urging Yuma on.
Yuma's pace has grown erratic, obviously close as well. His hand—still interlocked with Jo's—clutches him tight. The spasms of Jo's hole around him must've been the final straw, as soon he moans and collapses onto Jo's chest, hips stuttering, pulses of warmth spilling into the condom. For how much shorter he is than Jo, he's heavy and solid on top of him, overwhelming in all the best ways. It's Yuma in all his breathtaking essence, enveloping Jo in warmth and comfort. He pumps his hips a few more times before Jo grunts in overstimulation, and he slows to a stop.
They lay there in blissed-out silence, catching their breaths until they fall in sync. Eventually, Yuma goes to pull out, grimacing as he ties off the condom and throws it in (hopefully) the direction of the trash bin. Jo must briefly black out at some point, because the next thing he knows, Yuma is wiping him clean with a hand towel. Jo winces as Yuma wipes the tenderness between his legs, and Yuma kisses his knee in apology.
When Yuma's done, Jo reaches his arms out wordlessly. Yuma falls back into bed with him, two puzzle pieces slotting into each other's embrace.
Here, in Yuma's arms, Jo has stripped himself naked, physically and metaphorically. Over time, whatever course their relationship takes, Yuma will undoubtedly uncover the rest of him, strip him down to the bone, see what he hasn't shown anyone else.
Jo finds that the prospect of it is no longer as terrifying as he once thought.