Archive of Our Own

They’re not dating.

In fact, the sheer notion of Seongje as a boyfriend, as Hyuntak’s boyfriend is so utterly ridiculous that it’s laughable. Hyuntak tries to imagine it, just once, right after they start all this, and it sends chills down his spine. The image of Seongje bringing him flowers, splitting a cake with him, holding his hand. It’s so wildly out of the realm of imagination that by the end of the daydream he’s not even sure it’s Seongje anymore.

What they are doing, though, is fucking. Or, well, they will be. After tonight.

Two months ago, while out at a bar with his university cohort, Hyuntak ran into Geum Seongje for the first time in two years. After the dissolution of The Union, he’d stopped hanging around Eunjang looking for fights, and although Hyuntak wasn’t entirely convinced that he’d kept his nose completely out of trouble, he’d at least left him and his friends out of it.

Now, though, he looked older, more grown up than Hyuntak even, with a lazy, confident stature and eyes that scanned the room before landing on Hyuntak and sharpening. His head tipped to the side, and he smiled, cocksure.

Hyuntak’s hands had balled into fists like a reflex, but when he went over to confront the bastard, Seongje had kept the easy grin, ordered him a drink, and let his fingers slide over the hot skin at Hyuntak’s lower back. Missed you, Eunjang.  

There hadn’t been much talking between the two of them after that. Hyuntak had taken long sips of his highball, and between the vodka on his tongue and the teasing presses of Seongje’s hand, his head had been spinning enough to pull him out into the alley behind the bar and slam their mouths together.

It was Seongje who had turned it into something dirtier, then. Had bitten his lips, sucked on his tongue, and licked behind his teeth. And when Hyuntak rejoined his friends half an hour later, he’d had a smattering of red-purple on his throat.

Since that night they’d seen each other every week at least once, often more than that. Sometimes they met at Seongje’s place — small, with paper-thin walls — and sometimes they met at Hyuntak’s — his parents’, so only an option when his family was out.

But every time it was for the same thing. They’d make out, roll on the bed a little, grind a little. Seongje would grope at him, hard, through his jeans and Hyuntak would bare his neck and beg in a display so desperate and wanting that he shocked himself. They’ve never actually gotten off together, though, and Hyuntak’s out of patience. He wants to feel it all, wants to know, wants to fuck.

Which is why tonight, when his family leaves for the night for a soccer tournament, Hyuntak watches them go, throws the laundry into his parents’ room, and calls Seongje.

The phone rings twice before it connects.

“Come over,” he says before Seongje can speak. He’s pacing, and he has to actively calm his breathing so the receiver doesn’t pick up the sound.

“Why should I?”

In the background, Hyuntak can hear the familiar echoey chimes that tell him Seongje’s in the middle of playing League. It’s not the first time he’s interrupted a game, but it always grates at his ego a bit, having to compete for attention with a PC Bang.

“I wanna try something.” 

“Oh yeah?” Seongje says, amused. “What do you want to try?”

Hyuntak’s face goes hot.

He hasn’t been very subtle, and it’s obvious Seongje’s picked up on the way Hyuntak’s cock goes hard and twitches anytime his hand sneaks down the back of his pants. If he thinks about it too much he gets horrified at the fact that he’s letting Geum Seongje turn him into this.

“Never mind, don’t come.”

Seongje laughs. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart.” The chimes stop, replaced by a few rapid keystrokes. “You know I can’t say no when you call.”

The doorbell buzzes 23 minutes later and Seongje saunters in, kicking off his shoes and peering around the room. He’s hyper-paranoid about running into Hyuntak’s family. Like one day Hyuntak’s going to ambush him with a sit-down ‘Meet the Parents!’ dinner.

“No one’s here,” Hyuntak scoffs.

Seongje hums and pulls him close with a hand on his ass, squeezing shamelessly. “Lead the way, then.”

Hyuntak pushes him off, bristling at the manhandling, but he does walk toward the bedroom. No use in acting like this is something it isn’t. It’s not like they’re going to cuddle and watch a movie.

“No candles?” Seongje says, dryly, when he walks into the room behind him.

“Give it a rest,” Hyuntak sighs.

He grins, pleased with himself. “Alright, baby. C’mere.”

The ‘baby’ thing is one of those Seongje quirks that he’s learned to put up with. Baby, sweetheart, princess, doll. Any one of those is fair game when they’re like this. Anything to avoid calling Hyuntak by his name.

Seongje reaches for his face this time, stretches his bottom lip down to open his mouth a bit and then drags his thumb over it, eyeing the way Hyuntak’s tongue darts out to wet it before pulling him in for a firm, slow kiss.

Not that Hyuntak had ever imagined kissing Seongje before that day in the bar, but if he had, he might have assumed that he was a rough kisser, mean and sharp like the way he talks. But Seongje kisses leisurely. Messy still, and possessive, but lazy. He kisses like he’s got all the time in the world. It’s easy to get wrapped up in, and tonight Hyuntak’s head falls back, not even fighting him for the lead, just letting Seongje’s tongue glide smooth and wet over his own and sighing freely at the feeling.

Seongje pulls back after a while and their lips part with a soft smack. Hyuntak keeps his eyes closed for an extra beat.

“Look at you,” Seongje says. “You want something, Eunjang?”

His eyes flutter open at that, the light mocking tone bringing him back to Earth and making him huff. He thinks he’s made himself quite clear, and Seongje’s out of his mind if he thinks he’s getting Hyuntak to ask for it. “You know what I want.”

Seongje smirks. “Yeah, I think I do.” His hands slip beneath Hyuntak’s sweatpants, beneath his boxers, and tease the bare skin there. “You got stuff for me?”

Hyuntak nods. “Nightstand.”

He lets go of him, gives his ass a cursory pat, and walks to the bed. “Get undressed.”

Real nice.

“You first,” Hyuntak counters.

“Why? I’m not the one getting fucked.” Seongje’s found his stash and is looking over the new bottle of lube, twirling it in his fingers.

“Well, I’m not gonna be the only one naked.”

“Such a princess,” he mutters, but he does set the lube down long enough to lose his shirt and jeans. He leaves his boxers on, so Hyuntak does too, flying blind and hoping he doesn’t show it.

Seongje plops down on Hyuntak’s bed and looks at him expectantly. Jerk. He knows Hyuntak’s nervous. He’s playing with him. And that pisses Hyuntak off enough to shove the feeling down and cross the room in self-assured strides, making room to straddle Seongje’s lap when he gets there.

Seongje doesn’t miss a beat, just tugs him closer by his lower back, dragging them together and making Hyuntak shudder. It’s the most they’ve felt each other yet, a delicious tease, and he bites his lip to keep from rutting forward into Seongje’s hard cock with abandon until he comes.

He leans in for another kiss instead, but Seongje dodges him, flips them so Hyuntak’s lying flat on the bed, then pulls him down further by his waist, until his head’s no longer on the pillow. Hyuntak’s still whirling from the move, as Seongje peels his boxers off. It’s the first time he’s seen him naked, and Hyuntak has to fight the urge to close his legs, hide himself. He lets them fall open instead, feigning confidence even as his cheeks color.

Seongje hums at the view. His hands drag up Hyuntak’s thighs and leave goosebumps, and when they reach the top, he pushes them up higher so he can slide a dry hand down over his hole.

Heat blooms through Hyuntak’s body. No one’s ever touched him like this in his life.

“You touch yourself here before?” Seongje asks, as if he’s read his mind.

Hyuntak shakes his head. He’s thought about it, a lot, but every time he envisioned trying — getting fully naked, lubing up his fingers like Seongje’s doing now, and sliding them into himself — he felt so intensely self-conscious; like he was being watched, like everyone would know what he did, that he couldn’t quite stomach it. It doesn’t feel like that now. It’s still a shuddery, taboo sensation, but it’s not scary, it makes him feel sexy, desired.

Seongje groans and drops his head to Hyuntak’s chest. “You gonna let me be the first one?”

Hyuntak does not answer that. It doesn’t matter, Seongje’s reaching down already, slick, cool fingers rubbing back and forth over his hole again and making him tense and jump. Seongje shushes him, uses his other hand to pull Hyuntak’s left leg up and out, opening him more. He presses harder on the next pass, and the tip of his middle finger slips in.

A harsh breath leaves Hyuntak’s body in a stutter and his stomach clenches. It’s nowhere near enough, but it teases the kind of touch and fullness he’s been craving and he needs more. His hips chase after Seongje’s finger as he slides it out, starts circling around the muscle, and then dips back in, deeper.

“Oh,” Hyuntak gasps, body clenching.

“Shit you’re tight,” Seongje mutters, his brow creasing.  

He works that finger in for a bit, free hand pressing down on Hyuntak’s stomach to keep it flat on the bed. It’s only after he gets a second finger in that he starts to curl the two of them, and he brushes over his prostate for the first time. A white-hot shock of electricity runs up Hyuntak’s spine and he whines long, pleading.

“Oh g—” he gasps when Seongje stays there, thrusting his fingers inside in a languid curl that has Hyuntak’s hips rolling, balls drawing up tight like he’s gonna come already. “Seongje.”

“Jesus, you’re leaking like crazy.” Seongje’s other hand comes up to spread the precome beading at the tip of Hyuntak’s dick all the way down in a slow pull.

Hyuntak shouts, body jerking up into Seongje’s grasp and eyes squeezing shut.

“You like it that much?”

Hyuntak whines again. Seongje’s fingers are working faster and faster and his mind is going blank. Every time they press up against that spot Hyuntak hurdles more and more toward the edge, and it’s a miracle he hasn’t timed it right to dig into the slit at the head of his cock at the same time, because if he did, if he had… God, Hyuntak’s so hard he can feel it in his teeth. Oh shit—

“Close?” Seongje stops. He pulls his hand away from Hyuntak’s dick and stills his fingers.

Hyuntak sobs and reaches down to clutch at Seongje’s wrist, grinding down to try to get the feeling back, pleasure still fraying the edges of his mind enough to not care about the smug look on Seongje’s face.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” He wrenches his hand out of Hyuntak’s grasp and pulls his fingers out, wiping the excess lube on his stomach and making him flinch.

Hyuntak heaves a breath, collecting himself. “Asshole,” he bites out when he can talk again.

“Mhm,” Seongje agrees.

He stands up from the bed and drops his boxers, dick bouncing hard and heavy. It’s thick, weighty with a pinkish red tip that, Hyuntak realizes with devastation, he wants in his mouth.

“Turn over,” Seongje says, leaning to grab a condom from his desk.

Hyuntak blinks at him. “Are you serious?”

It’s not like Hyuntak pictured him to be sugary sweet in bed or anything, but he had expected a bit more than bend over, ass up. Seongje looks back at him with raised brows, the edge of the condom wrapper fit between his teeth.

Hyuntak’s cheeks burn, but he refuses to look away first. He focuses hard on channeling as much derision into his face as can while he’s bare-ass naked.

Seongje sighs, pulling the wrapper out of his mouth, and shuffling back onto the bed. He takes matters into his own hands, turns Hyuntak over gently, hovering above him.

“It won’t feel good unless we do it like this.” He drops his voice, goading. “You wanna feel good, Gotak?”

Hyuntak nearly bitches at him again, but settles onto hands and knees when he feels Seongje’s hands slide over his ass, spread him open. The son of a bitch is annoying, but what pisses Hyuntak off more is that it doesn’t stop him from wanting him, wanting this.

Something wet slides over his hole, suddenly, and he jumps, twisting his head back to see Seongje’s mouth rising up from his ass. Did he? Seongje brings a hand up to rub his spit in, mixing it with the lube and pressing in again with two fingers. Hyuntak shivers, lets his head drop.

“Gross,” he manages.

Seongje laughs. “Sure,” he says.

He keeps his fingers moving, sliding in and out slowly, pressing deep and rubbing against that spot he found earlier. Slowly, the tension starts to leak out of Hyuntak again, and he drops down to his elbows, his arms tiring.

“There you go,” Seongje coos, and it’s only then that Hyuntak registers the low uh, uh, uh’s that he’s been letting out with each thrust of his fingers, his face pressed into the sheets. He turns his head into the pillow to muffle himself, or suffocate himself, and Seongje laughs again.

A minute later there’s a third finger pushing in, stretching him more, and Hyuntak’s breath catches, his back curling a bit before Seongje presses the center of it into an arch again.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs.

Then he picks up the pace, fucking into Hyuntak with fast, short strokes that curl into him just right. Hyuntak groans, long and needy. His hands clutch at pillows, sheets, anything he can find to hold onto. If Seongje keeps going like this— if he—

“Feels good?”

“Fuck—” Off, he’d wanted to say, but Seongje stills his fingers suddenly, and rubs that spot again, hard, and Hyuntak’s eyes roll back, his mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, it does.”

He slides his fingers out then, and Hyuntak takes the second to breathe and prop up on hands and knees again. He’s shivering, despite not being cold at all, his body so close to tipping over the edge for so long now that it’s resorting to convulsions. There’s a soft shuffling sound behind him while Seongje slides the condom on, and then he’s moving closer on his knees, hands on Hyuntak’s asscheeks, thumbs spreading him open.

“Wait,” Hyuntak says. He throws a hand back for good measure, like that’ll do any good.

Seongje takes a deep breath. “What?”

“What if I want to stop?” He tries not to cringe at how soft his voice sounds, this whole thing is mortifying enough. Thankfully, Seongje doesn’t comment on it.

“Then tell me to stop,” he replies.

Unsure what other answer he was expecting, Hyuntak nods, bracing himself again.

“Okay,” he says.

Seongje seems to take that as the green light that it is, and presses in close, his cock landing heavy against Hyuntak’s hole. He slides it back and forth there for a moment, kneading at Hyuntak’s ass, pushing his cheeks in to make a tight space to fuck into and swearing under his breath.

“Seongje,” Hyuntak eventually grits out, more out of embarrassment than need, but it does the trick.

“Alright, Eunjang,” he says. “Relax,” and he finally lines the tip up.

Hyuntak’s expecting it to happen in a slow push, but the head of his cock pops in right away, hot and thick. He breathes in sharp and clenches down hard at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seongje swears above him. “Relax,” he says again.

Hyuntak tries to breathe, it feels crazy, feels nothing like Seongje’s fingers, before. It burns a little, but it mostly feels heavy inside him.

“Gotak, ease up.”

He gets his breath back, but it starts to come too fast, then, shuddering and making him lightheaded, like he’s spinning, when he knows Seongje’s holding him still. Everything’s a little too sharp, he can’t figure out where to go to get relief. Push back or lean forward? He’s caught in indecision, lungs heaving and he chokes on his own saliva.

Then, as quick as it started, it stops. Seongje slips out, keeping a hand on Hyuntak’s waist to steady him.

“Jesus,” he says.

Hyuntak sits back on his heels, head still down, child’s pose, slowing his breathing. Seongje climbs off of him and sits to his side, and Hyuntak’s skin prickles with cold immediately, lube and spit and sweat cooling on him. He sighs, letting his muscles go loose.

For a few minutes they sit there. Hyuntak has no idea what Seongje is thinking, but he plans to stay here for as long as his knee will let him, uninterested in dealing with the aftermath of whatever the hell that was. After a while, he hears the sound of latex stretching and lifts his head.

“What are you doing?”

Seongje mostly ignores him, finishing slipping off the condom and chucking it without looking at Hyuntak.

“What does it look like?” he says.

“We’re stopping?”

That gets him to look.

“I’m not going to fuck you while you’re mid-fucking-panic attack.”

“I would’ve been fine,” Hyuntak argues.

“Yeah?” Seongje says. He grabs Hyuntak’s cheeks a little too hard, squishes them together. “I don’t think so.”

Hyuntak shakes his head to dislodge Seongje’s grip, watches him move to get off the bed and reaches for his wrist.

“Don’t—”

Seongje sighs loud and long. “Go Hyuntak,” he says. “It’s fine.” Like he’s talking to a kid.

“I’m not fine.”

It comes out petulant and he gets an eye roll in response.

“I invited you over to have sex, I wanna do it.”

“You sure about that?” Seongje asks, brow quirked.

Hyuntak pulls him back to the bed until he’s kneeling between his legs, both shuffling until they’re settled around each other again. “It felt good before,” he says instead of answering. “With your fingers. I just need—”

Seongje waits for him to finish, but Hyuntak’s suddenly lost for words. He can’t remember ever seeing Seongje look at him with this much focus in his life.

“Need more?” Seongje offers and Hyuntak nods. “Alright. Get back on your knees.”

He does, and for a split-second he thinks it’ll be fine, but—

“Wait.”

Seongje freezes. “What?”

It still feels wrong like this. Hyuntak can feel that same panic building in his chest. Like this, Seongje’s barely touching him, just two hands to push and pull him where he wants. He feels untethered. He wants—

“Don’t be so far away,” Hyuntak says, reaching up to hook a hand around Seongje’s shoulder and bring him closer. 

Seongje huffs, but he rearranges them, lays down right on top of him so that Hyuntak’s mostly flat on the bed, his good knee pulled up to his side.

Like this, his dick rubs against the bed with each movement. He rocks his hips down once to feel the friction and shivers when the covers pull at the skin of his cock.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

The sound of a new condom and wet lube slicking follows and Hyuntak’s ears burn hot with it. He wishes, briefly, that he could see. Seongje’s slippery thumb prods at him, like checking if he’s still loose enough, and a flash of arousal zings though Hyuntak’s body. It’s like being played with, and the embarrassment of being on display for him like this amplifies the pleasure thrumming in his blood.

“Don’t squeeze me so tight this time,” Seongje says. “Try to open up a little.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Hyuntak admits, so far beyond trying to save face, and honestly, mildly impressed with Seongje’s maturity.

“Push like you gotta shit.”

Motherfucker.

Hyuntak’s whole body flushes red, and he throws an elbow back, trying to catch Seongje in the ribs, but he just grabs it and laughs.

“You’re so fucking gross.”

“You asked,” Seongje counters.

Hyuntak puts up a show of pretending to hit him again, then, satisfied, settles back down on the bed. He feels that same pressure nudge at his hole again.

“Ready?” Seongje mutters in his ear.

Hyuntak nods and soon the tip slips in again. He, begrudgingly, tries to remember Seongje’s advice; breathe, push out, and he gets a groan from above him for his effort.

“Yeah,” Seongje says, sliding in a little further.

It feels a little familiar now, that heavy feeling from before. He’s more ready for it, tries to open up for it. He must do an okay job, because before long Seongje’s hips are flush, his cock buried deep, rocking a little inside him.

Holy shit.

“You good?” Seongje asks.

Hyuntak nods fast. It doesn’t really feel good yet, but it’s not like before. That felt… clinical. This feels like sex.

Seongje hooks under his armpit with one hand, holding the back of his thigh with the other, and starts a steady rhythm, fucking in and in and in every couple of seconds. He drops his head to the center of Hyuntak’s back, rocking a bit and swearing.

“Shit,” he says. “I can’t— can you lift up a little?”

“Hm?” Hyuntak rubs his face on the pillow, tries to discreetly wipe the drool from his mouth.

“Like this,” Seongje lifts Hyuntak’s hips up into the air and grinds deep when he’s got him where he wants. “You gonna freak out again?” he asks.

“Uh-uh,” Hyuntak says around a moan.

“Good,” Seongje says, and it almost sounds like praise. “That’s good.”

He pulls out to the tip then, and thrusts back in in one long, smooth stoke, gripping Hyuntak’s waist tight. As soon as he’s buried all the way to the hilt, Hyuntak understands. Here, he can feel the entire length of Seongje’s hard cock. It reaches deep, puts pressure on his prostate again, and makes him shake. Little whines spill out of his mouth faster that he can stop them, his hands grip the sheets over and over, and his legs spread of their own volition, back arching even more into a pose so overtly lewd that Seongje moans behind him.

“Just like that, baby,” he pants.

He fucks into him quicker, lube squelching in the quiet of the room and their hips making a filthy clapping sound when they meet. It’s so loud. All of it. Seongje’s grunts, Hyuntak’s long, pleading moans, both of their harsh breathing as pleasure ratchets higher and higher, their bodies working faster. And Hyuntak’s dick is still so hard, so wet.

He wants to come so badly.

He tries to get balanced enough to reach down and jerk himself, but Seongje’s pistoning into him so fast, chasing a high, that he can’t manage it. The next thrust hits him hard, dead on, and he sobs, he’s so close. If he could just— if he could get—

“Come here.”

Seongje scoops an arm under him and rests a hand at the base of his throat, pulling him up to sitting on his thighs, back to chest. His cock settles deeper still here and Hyuntak’s mind goes numb, he squeezes and rolls down onto it while he adjusts.

Seongje’s lips are hot on his neck, leaving trailing kisses and bites while one hand moves to grope his chest, twisting and pinching his nipple making Hyuntak cry out. His other hand winds around Hyuntak’s waist and holds him in place while he pulls out again to thrust back in hard.

“Ah!” Hyuntak gasps.

Seongje only manages to do it twice before the sweat between them makes his arm slip, and Hyuntak takes over, lifting up on shaky legs to ride him, rising and slamming down again and again as his orgasm swells like a wave in him. His eyes are wet with tears, and his mouth hangs open in a perpetual moan as it climbs higher, higher.

Then Seongje’s hand wraps tight and slick around his cock, working him in short strokes over the tip harsh and unrelenting and Hyuntak’s back bows sharp.

“Seongje, oh god, uhn!” Pleasure snaps like a whip and he’s coming hard, finally. Come shoots from his cock in thick ropes onto his stomach and down Seongje’s hand. He can barely keep moving enough to ride it out, but Seongje keeps his fist going, pulling down in firm strokes that make him twitch.

“Shit.” Seongje pushes him forward again onto his chest and starts driving into him at a punishing pace, and it’s almost too much too soon, but it feels good too. Jolts of overstimulation make him tremble as Seongje’s cock surges inside him.

“God, you feel good,” he breathes. “You’re gonna make me come.” Satisfaction blazes in him at Seongje’s strangled tone and clenches, squeezes around his dick to see what happens. “Fuck!”

Seongje thrusts fast twice and comes, groaning loud. His hands clutch hard at Hyuntak’s hips, and he folds over his body, his rhythm slowing, fucking inside in deep, hard pushes while he rides it out. It’s sensual and dirty in a way that thrills Hyuntak, and when he imagines feeling Seongje’s come filling him, arousal hits him in an aftershock that makes his cock leak one last spurt of come.

“Fuck,” Seongje says again and sighs.

He pulls out right after, slapping a hand on Hyuntak’s back as he rolls off that’s a little too akin to a ‘Good game!’

Hyuntak flips over too, lies still on his back with eyes closed and ignores the damp spot his leg is resting on. He knows they’ve got to get up soon, but he figures drifting off for just a little while won’t hurt.

When the room comes back into focus maybe five minutes later, Seongje’s up and moving, dressed, except for his shirt, and hunting for his phone.

“Where are you going?” Hyuntak’s voice comes out raspy and Seongje pauses to stare at him.

“Home?” he says, hand on the doorknob now that he’s gathered his things.

Hyuntak swallows his pride; it’s bitter on the way down. “Stay.”

“What for?”

Hyuntak’s mouth falls open. He can still feel where Seongje’s dick carved a space in his body and now he’s about to be left alone in his mess. He really is an asshole.

“Jesus fuck, Seongje, you just took my virginity you could stay the night after.”

Seongje sucks on his teeth, breaks eye contact.

“Fine, don’t work yourself up again, Christ.” He swings the door shut. “You got extra clothes or do I have to sleep in my fucking jeans?”

Hyuntak sighs, defenses coming down again. He wonders if this is all it’ll ever be with Seongje, fists up, blow after blow.

Seongje showers first, bitching about how tired he is from putting in all the work. But when Hyuntak finishes his, later, Seongje’s already pulled the sheets off the bed, a random blanket strewn over it instead. Didn’t wanna lay in all your fucking drool, he says.

Hyuntak doesn’t bother looking for new sheets, he’ll add his to the laundry tomorrow. For now, there’s another spare blanket in the living room that he’ll bring back to the bed too for them to sandwich themselves between.

Seongje’s wearing a pair of Hyuntak’s sweatpants and lounging on the mattress when he comes back into the room, one leg crossed over the other, yawning as he scrolls through his phone. “Get the light before you come over here,” he says.

Before he does, Hyuntak takes a second to let his eyes rake over Seongje again, his relaxed posture and deadpan voice, and he’s struck with the haunting thought that this night will mean nothing to Seongje, while it sticks with him forever.

After he turns out the big light, he makes his way over, tossing the blanket on top of them as he sits. Then he plucks Seongje’s phone from his hand and sets it on the nightstand without a word.

“Hey—”

He ignores him, wraps a hand around Seongje’s arm and lays down, pulling it with to drape it over himself. The end result is Hyuntak curled up on his side with a motionless, stiff arm laying atop his own in some kind of bastardized version of spooning.

“What are you doing?” Seongje asks, still half-sitting on his side.

“What does it look like?” Hyuntak echoes his words from earlier. “Quit complaining already.” He tries for exasperated, but it sounds more pleading as he says it.

Miraculously Seongje doesn’t shove him away, but scoots down to lie flat at his back. “You’re so needy.”

Hyuntak’s throat gets tight. Fuck. Isn’t that the scary truth. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he turns to look at Seongje, eyes wet. “Yeah, I need you right now.”

They watch each other for a moment, and then Hyuntak’s had enough, turns back. Seongje lifts his arm and for a split second he thinks he’s going to remove it altogether, but he slides it back, under his own, so it lays flat on Hyuntak’s chest.

Hyuntak inhales deep and wills himself to calm down. Seongje doesn’t say anything more, but his nose is tucked into his hair, and between soft puffs of his breathing, Hyuntak falls fast asleep.

In the morning, he wakes up tangled tightly in two blankets with an ache between his legs. It’s disorienting for a moment, until his brain turns on enough to remember the night before. Seongje is, notably, not in his bed.

Hyuntak tries to tell himself he’s not disappointed, that he knew this was coming, but it still cuts like a wound. At least, until the sound of the refrigerator door being opened reaches his ears and a new problem presents itself: Geum Seongje wandering his house shirtless, rooting through his kitchen.

He’s still poised over the fridge when Hyuntak makes his way out of the bedroom, but he turns at the sound of approaching footsteps and holds up a variety pack of lettuce, perilla leaf, and green onion.

“Do you have any real food in this house? Christ, are you a family of rabbits?” He shoves the bag back into the vegetable drawer and smacks it shut.

“There’s cereal bars in the cupboard next to the sink,” Hyuntak answers on autopilot.

Seongje grunts and grabs one, pouring hot water from the kettle into a cup with instant coffee while he munches.

“Thanks for staying,” Hyuntak says.

Seongje takes another bite of breakfast bar. “You steal the covers. And you kicked me like five times, I think I might bruise.”

The relief of knowing that Seongje didn’t up and leave during the middle of the night wears off quick, and that ugly, insecure feeling from last night resurges.

“Can you tell me something nice for once?”

“I said lots of nice things about you last night, remember?” He’s scrolling on his phone as he says it, typing out a message without looking up.

Shit you’re tight. You’re leaking like crazy. You’re gonna make me come.

“Not that, not about—” he stops for a breath. “I know you don’t give a shit about me, but could you pretend for long enough to not make me feel like a complete idiot?”

There’s a hostile look in Seongje’s eye when he lifts his gaze. “Who said I don’t give a shit?”

And, god, despite knowing better it makes his pulse jump. He doesn’t give a shit, Hyuntak reminds himself. “Don’t be a dick,” he says.

“Gotak.” Seongje abandons his breakfast, stalks closer. “You think I do this shit for anyone else? Come every time you call like a fucking dog? Spend forty minutes fingering your ass so you don’t hyperventilate when I stick my dick in you?”

Hyuntak’s mouth drops open on a half-formed protest. It was not forty minutes.

“Use your brain,” he continues. “Why do you think I do any of that?”

“Why can’t you just say that, then? Why do you have to act like this?”

Seongje won’t answer that one, or can’t, Hyuntak’s not sure which, and he doesn’t know if it even matters. But he does kiss along Hyuntak’s throat so gently it feels like an apology. He does rub his thumbs in soft circles over the sore spots on his hips. And he does roll Hyuntak’s earlobe lightly between his teeth and murmur his name in a way that makes him shiver. Hyuntak.

They’re not dating.

Seongje will never show up with flowers or put the date they first kissed in his KaTalk profile. But they’re not nothing, either, Hyuntak thinks as Seongje sinks to his knees in the middle of the kitchen. Whatever they are, they’ll never be nothing.