Archive of Our Own

When Sangwon first moved into the dorm apartment, he had told himself it wouldn’t matter who his roommate would be. He had no choice anyway, because it was the only room left in the university dorm after deciding at the last minute.

The night he moved in, he was welcomed by the sight of Geonwoo and some guy making out on the small couch in the living area.

“Oh. Shit.”

Sangwon froze halfway through the doorway, one hand still gripping the handle of his suitcase. The living room was barely bigger than a shoebox. There was nowhere to look that didn’t feel intrusive. He attempted to busy himself by scanning the kitchen counter, the narrow dining table, or maybe the crooked microwave. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.

“Sorry. I didn’t see anything. I should’ve knocked—”

“Yeah. You should’ve.” The guy on top snapped it without hesitation.

That triggered something immediate and sharp in Sangwon’s chest, because what the fuck is his problem?

Sangwon’s expression flattened. “Are you my roommate?” he shot back, head tilting slightly, tone edged.

“Mhm.”

Geonwoo didn’t even look at him at first. He was still pressing lazy pecks along the other guy, probably another one of his one-time booty call's mouth, completely unbothered. The guy giggled between kisses, high-pitched and grating. “You’re Lee Sangwon?” He asked casually.

Sangwon rolled his eyes. He was still standing there. Hello. “Yep.”

“Room’s over there.” Geonwoo pointed vaguely toward a door across from the kitchenette without lifting his head properly. “You can start unpacking or whatever. We’ll finish here. Right, baby?”

The giggling resumed.

Sangwon muttered under his breath, “Wow. Welcome to me,” and dragged his suitcase towards the room.

The apartment technically had two rooms, but only one was large enough to fit both beds comfortably. The other was more of a shared living space with a compact kitchen shoved against one wall, a narrow dining table, and a bathroom that barely fit two people brushing their teeth at the same time. So their beds ended up parallel in the larger room, separated by a slim aisle and a mutual agreement not to be annoying.

That agreement lasted about three days.

Geonwoo was annoyingly handsome.

Scratch that. Annoying and handsome.

Geonwoo was the kind of handsome that felt intentional. Tall, broad-shouldered, toned biceps, dark hair that never seemed out of place no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it. He had big ears, but that only made him cuter. He knew exactly what he looked like. Worse, he knew exactly what it did to people.

Maybe not to Sangwon, though. Sangwon already had a boyfriend.

Even when Geonwoo stepped out of their shared bathroom with nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, water still tracing down his chest, Sangwon barely glanced up from his phone. If he did look, it was brief. Unimpressed?

It was ridiculous. And, to Geonwoo, mildly insulting. Because how could someone like Sangwon not react? As a few months passed by, he has studied how Sangwon really is. As someone who lives under the same roof as him, he became familiar with Sangwon's boldness as time went on.

Sangwon was pretty in a way that drew attention without asking for it. Sharp eyes behind those thin-framed glasses, expressive mouth, soft hair that fell into place like it had been styled even when it hadn’t. He carried himself with a kind of effortless sensuality that made people stare, especially at clubs. Geonwoo had seen it. He had seen how strangers gravitated toward him. He had seen how Sangwon moved when music wrapped around him.

He had also seen how he acted with his boyfriend when he visited. And maybe that was where it started.

At first, Geonwoo’s teasing was subtle.

A hand brushing a small part of Sangwon’s back when he passed behind him in the kitchen, lingering just a second too long. Leaning over him to grab something from a cabinet even when there was plenty of space. Sitting close enough on the couch that their thighs pressed together and stayed there while Geonwoo scrolls on his phone and Sangwon reads a book, his glasses sitting steadily on his sharp nose bridge.

By the way, this was probably one of Geonwoo’s favorite sights. Sangwon, completely focused, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, glasses resting low on his nose as he stared at whatever he was reading. There was something almost unfair about it. The way his lashes cast faint shadows against his cheeks. 

It made Geonwoo want to laugh sometimes. How could someone as openly sensual and decidedly not innocent as Sangwon manage to look so painfully innocent the moment he put on glasses? It didn’t make sense. Worst contrast ever.

“Move,” Sangwon would mutter, nudging him with his knee.

Geonwoo would smile lazily. “You’re the one invading my space.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.” He said it every time with that same knowing look, like he was measuring exactly how much pressure it would take before Sangwon snapped.

The thing was, Sangwon did snap on a regular basis. His irritation was real and easy to trigger. His glares were sharp and his complaints weren’t playful.

Geonwoo enjoyed it far more than he should have. 

At least Sangwon reacted. That was the part that mattered.

Every annoyed shove. Every eye roll. Every clipped “stop touching me.” It meant he wasn’t indifferent, and that maybe he did have an effect on him. And for reasons Geonwoo refused to examine too closely, that was enough to keep pushing.

Geonwoo had a habit of bringing guys over for heated sessions that seemed to happen at the most inconvenient hours. Friday nights. Random Tuesday afternoons. Once, even at ten in the morning. Sangwon never bothered to ask whether those sessions went further than what he accidentally overheard or briefly glimpsed. It wasn’t his business, and he preferred it that way. As long as Geonwoo gave him a heads-up and kept the common areas from looking like a hurricane had passed through, Sangwon chose not to see anything.

It still baffled him sometimes.

His hot roomma—no. His annoyingly, admittedly alright-looking roommate was very much gay. Not that there was anything surprising about that in itself, but Sangwon had initially assumed someone who carried himself with that much confidence, that much careless charm, would be the type to bring girls home instead. Geonwoo had the air of a stereotypical straight fuckboy. The lazy smirk. The way he stretched like he knew people were watching. The effortless flirting that slipped into his tone even when he wasn’t trying.

Apparently, Sangwon had miscalculated.

Part of him found it irritating that he had miscalculated at all.

So, partly out of petty revenge and partly for his own convenience, Sangwon decided that inviting his boyfriend over more often would balance things out. If Geonwoo could turn their apartment into his personal dating lounge, then Sangwon saw no reason not to do the same.

He genuinely liked Heeseung.

Besides being hot and great in bed, Heeseung was warm in a way that softened the edges of Sangwon’s sharper moods. He was attentive without being suffocating, steady in a way that grounded him when university stress piled too high. He showed up with snacks tucked under his arm and stories about his day. He laughed loudly, filling the tiny apartment with something brighter than tension. When Sangwon cooked, Heeseung would slip his arms around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder, lips brushing against his neck just because he could.

And without fail, Geonwoo always seemed to walk in during them.

The door would open. A backpack would drop to the floor. And there he would be.

“Wow,” he would say mildly, dragging himself toward the couch like he had front-row seats to something mildly entertaining. “Didn’t realize this was a public show.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened every single time.

It wasn’t just the comments.

It was the way Geonwoo looked at Sangwon.

The gaze was never crude. Never obvious enough to call out directly. But it was steady and intentional. Lingering a second too long on the curve of Sangwon’s waist where Heeseung’s hands rested. On the way Sangwon tilted his head back when he laughed and his collarbones would show more. 

It was the look of someone memorizing something.

Something that did not belong to him.

One night, when the apartment was finally quiet and Geonwoo had gone out, Heeseung asked the question that had clearly been building for weeks.

“Your roommate. Why does he look at you like that?”

Sangwon blinked up at him from the bed. “Like what?”

“Like — you know, claiming you or something.” Geonwoo does eyefuck Sangwon a lot more than anyone else could ever notice.

Sangwon scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

That’s absurd, actually. Right? They cannot stand each other’s guts most of the time. Well, at least he does. But even as he said it, the memories lined up too easily.

Geonwoo’s fingers resting at his waist when he laughed too hard, thumb pressing lightly as if to steady him. The absentminded tracing along the inside of his wrist while explaining something from a textbook. The way Geonwoo would sit on Sangwon’s bed instead of his own, close enough that their shoulders brushed without apology.

But there was still no way. And besides, even if Geonwoo did have intentions like that, Sangwon refused to give them weight. His roommate was just a horny, insufferable, shit-talking man who thrived on getting under his skin. There was nothing deeper there. There couldn’t be.

“He’s just like that. If you just knew the number of people he brings over,” Sangwon insisted, forcing a little laugh to ease the tension.

Heeseung didn’t look convinced.

It happened on a Thursday night when Sangwon decided he was bored. Not the casual kind of boredom that came from unfinished reads or endless scrolling, but the specific kind that simmered under his skin. Bored and still pissed off — the “my roommate thinks he owns this apartment” kind.

Why? Because the night before, he had barely slept.

Geonwoo had come home past midnight with another guy in tow. Sangwon hadn’t even bothered to look properly, just caught flashes of them in the doorway. Laughter too loud for the hour. Shoes kicked off carelessly. Plastic bags swinging from Geonwoo’s hand, bottles of soju clinking together inside.

They were getting drunk. Obviously.

What followed had been a blur of muffled thuds, careless laughter, and sounds that carried too easily through thin apartment walls. Sangwon hadn’t been sure if they were actually fucking or just aggressively making out, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was they were loud.

Loud enough that he had stared at the ceiling in the dark, jaw tight, pillow pressed over one ear. Loud enough that he could still hear the echo of it the next evening.

So yes. By Thursday night, Sangwon was bored, and slightly vindictive.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he made a choice.

He was wearing a cropped night tank top, with a pair of very short black athletic shorts that sat low on his hips, the fabric thin enough to cling slightly to his thighs. When he moved, the hem shifted just enough to reveal the lace waistband underneath — black and delicate. He didn’t even adjust it to hide it. He adjusted it to make it more visible.

Again, not an accident.

Nothing about this was an accident.

Steam still clung to his skin, softening it, turning every inch of him faintly luminous under the apartment lights. It traced the slope of his shoulders. The fitted top molded to his skin, thin fabric stretching around his tiny waist. His hair was damp, slightly messy, glasses perched low on his nose because he hadn’t bothered to fix them yet.

Geonwoo looked up from his phone and went still.

Sangwon saw it immediately. The pause and the subtle tightening in Geonwoo’s jaw. And the way his eyes dropped to his entire current existence before he could stop them. He’s not even pretending or hiding it, what a pervert.

Sangwon walked toward his table like he wasn’t aware of his own body. Each step made the shorts shift higher, the lace waistband stretching clean and obvious across his hips.

He opened a small drawer underneath to grab some skin care products, bending slightly. Not too much. Just enough to drive the other person insane, which was the goal.

Behind him, silence.

Then—

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

Sangwon straightened slowly and turned his head. “What?”

“You’re not wearing anything.”

The fuck? “Uh, I am?” He glanced down lazily. “These are shorts and a tank top.”

“They’re basically underwear. Is that lace I see?”

Sangwon turns around fully. He is enjoying the sight of Geonwoo losing his mind right now. The look on his face. It’s hilarious.

“You bring guys over here who moan and giggle loud enough for the neighbors to hear,” he said coolly. “You’ll survive a little lace.”

Geonwoo’s eyes darkened.

“That’s not the same.”

“Why not?” Sangwon leaned back against the counter, spreading his legs slightly as he crossed one ankle over the other. The movement pulled the shorts tighter across his hips. The lace was impossible to ignore now, stretched clean and deliberate against his warm skin. “You’re always horny anyway. Thought I’d give you a better view than whatever random guy you drag in.”

The insult was intended. Geonwoo stood slowly and forced a chuckle out. “Oh, so you think I’m looking because I’m horny?”

“Aren’t you now?”

He walked closer as the air shifted with him.

Sangwon didn’t move.

Geonwoo stopped in front of him, close enough that Sangwon could feel his body heat. His eyes dragged down again, openly this time. Over Sangwon’s chest to the slope of his waist. He just can’t take his eyes off of the lace sitting low and provocative against his skin.

“You know, for someone who’s taken, you’re playing a really dangerous game, baby,” Geonwoo says, licking his bottom lip.

Sangwon’s lips curved. “Whatever. You’re imagining things.”

Geonwoo’s gaze flicked up to meet his. There was nothing playful in it now.

“You’re standing here half naked in front of me,” he said, voice lower. “And you're what—just shrugging it off?”

The words pressed between his teeth like he was holding something else back with them. His eyes didn’t leave Sangwon’s body as he spoke. They moved slowly, mapping up bare skin and fitted fabric with quiet intensity. The apartment suddenly felt smaller, warmer, the air heavier between them.

“I’m not half naked,” Sangwon replied calmly. “I’m dressed comfortably in my own apartment.” He didn’t shift nor cover himself. Didn’t fidget. His tone stayed even, almost bored, as if Geonwoo’s proximity didn’t register at all. As if the way their bodies were nearly aligned meant nothing. He kept his shoulders relaxed, chin slightly lifted, glasses slipping a fraction down his nose in a way that only sharpened the contrast between innocent and provocative.

“In front of me.”

“Yes.”

The single syllable left Sangwon’s mouth without hesitation. Delivering it like a fact. A heavy silence settled between them.

Not empty silence, but dense. The kind that fills the space between breaths and makes every small movement feel amplified. The hum of the air conditioner in the background felt too loud. The faint traffic outside too distant.

Geonwoo’s eyes dropped again, slower this time, no pretense left in him. His gaze lingered openly over the smooth stretch of exposed skin, down the fitted line of Sangwon’s torso, lower to where lace curved indecently against his hips. His hand twitched slightly at his side like he had to physically stop himself from reaching out, fingers flexing once before curling back into his palm.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he said.

Sangwon tilted his head, just a fraction. Enough to make the movement feel deliberate. His expression remained composed, but there was something playful glinting behind his lenses.

“Maybe I just like watching you lose composure.”

Geonwoo stepped even closer, their chests almost brushing now. The heat from his body was unmistakable. Sangwon could feel it through the thin fabric, through the open air between them. Close enough that one more shift would erase the distance entirely. His voice dropped to something darker, stripped of teasing now.

“You walk around like that,” he murmured, eyes sweeping down again, “and you expect me not to imagine bending you over that table?”

The words hung there. What a filthy mouth. No ounce of feeling apologetic there. He seriously did not give a single fuck about Sangwon’s boyfriend.

That made Sangwon’s pulse jump once. Just once. But his expression didn’t crack.

“Wow,” he said softly. “You really are that easy.”

Geonwoo’s jaw tightened. “Well, you look like you’re begging to be touched,” he continued, quieter now. “Stretching. Bending. Showing off that lace like you want someone to ruin it. Should I ruin you?”

Sangwon let out a short, breathy laugh. “You’ve got a filthy imagination.”

“Then stop giving me material.”

The space between them had thinned to something fragile, something that felt like it might collapse with one careless breath. The warmth from Geonwoo’s body seeped into Sangwon’s skin, and neither of them stepped back.

“You know,” Geonwoo warned.

“Hm?” Sangwon’s voice didn’t shake. 

Geonwoo’s gaze moved one last time to the lace waistband before returning to Sangwon’s face. “You’re not as unaffected as you pretend,” he murmured.

Sangwon smiled slowly. Just to show he was entirely in control.  “Please. If I wanted you, I wouldn’t be teasing.”

Geonwoo went still.

For a second, the tension felt like it might snap. Like something irreversible hovered right at the edge of happening.

Then Sangwon stepped around him deliberately, brushing shoulders as he passed. The contact was intentional and measured. His skin grazed Geonwoo’s just long enough to register warmth, just long enough to say I could push this further if I wanted to.

“If you can’t handle it,” he added casually, climbing onto his bed and stretching out on his stomach, lace waistband visible as he scrolled through his phone, “close your eyes or look away.”

Geonwoo didn’t sit back down for a long time. He just stood there, watching.

Sangwon could feel it without even looking. The weight of it. A small, breathy giggle slipped out of him before he could stop it. He buried his face briefly into his pillow to hide the grin spreading across his lips, shoulders shaking faintly with contained amusement.


He teases Geonwoo for the last time that night, giggling as he says, "Go to sleep, you dummy. Or fix your problems in the bathroom. I won't mind."

Petty? Maybe.

Effective? Absolutely.

His vindictive little plan for the night had worked perfectly.

The first time Geonwoo interrupted the two getting all busy was an accident. Until it wasn’t. 

Geonwoo was supposed to stay at his parents’ house for the entire weekend. He had mentioned it casually while shrugging into his jacket, fingers already on his keys, as if it were an insignificant detail. Sangwon remembered nodding, trying not to look too pleased, trying not to let the relief show too obviously on his face. Two whole nights without his annoying ass. Two nights without feeling watched in his own space.

So Heeseung came over.

They ended up on Sangwon’s bed, tangled together in the quiet amber glow of the desk lamp that cast soft shadows along the walls. The rest of the apartment felt distant and muted.

Sangwon had been half-laughing at something stupid Heeseung said when he was suddenly pulled forward, guided easily onto Heeseung’s lap. A familiar gesture. Hands roamed over his hips with easy possession, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there like they had done a hundred times before. Sangwon’s head tipped back instinctively when Heeseung’s mouth moved along his jaw, warm and unhurried. His breath caught, not in surprise but in recognition of the way Heeseung always knew exactly where to kiss to make his body respond.

The oversized shirt Sangwon wore had ridden up slightly, exposing the uppers of his thighs. Heeseung’s hands slid beneath the hem without hesitation, palms smoothing over skin that was already warm from the closeness of their bodies. Sangwon shifted in his lap, unconsciously pressing closer. A soft moan left his mouth, low and unguarded.

Down the entrance of the apartment, the front door unlocked.

Geonwoo stepped inside quietly, easing the door shut behind him with a soft click. He expected silence.

Instead, he heard it.

A low sound. Breathy. Whiny. Trembling. Unfiltered.

Sangwon.

Geonwoo froze mid-step.

Another sound followed, softer but unmistakable — a sound Sangwon never let slip when he was aware of being overheard. It clearly meant he’d forgotten himself. Forgotten who else lived there.

Geonwoo’s lips parted slowly. So this is how his moans sound like.

A week ago, Sangwon had stood right in front of him wearing that lace. That sinful lace that clung to his hips and left almost nothing to the imagination. He had leaned in close, voice light and teasing. He’d let Geonwoo look. Let him get closer. Let him imagine. Amd then, left him flushed, tense, and very much aware of his unfinished frustration. Geonwoo had told himself he didn’t care. But hearing Sangwon now, hearing that same breathlessness given to someone else, made something dark and satisfied curl low in his stomach.

He could interrupt now. 

Instead, he stayed still for a bit. Almost hesitates at first and listened instead.

Another soft moan slipped through the cracked door, more open this time, more desperate at the edges. The faint creak of the mattress followed. A quiet gasp. “Please.”

Geonwoo closed his eyes for half a second, absorbing it fully. 

So this was what Sangwon sounded like when he wasn’t teasing. When he wasn’t pretending innocence behind that sweet expression, or those sweet glasses of his. When he let himself unravel. In bed.

A slow smirk curved across Geonwoo’s face. He will probably never forget that Thursday night when Sangwon left him alone with his hard-on. You wanted to play games? Fine.

He adjusted the strap of his bag deliberately, waiting just long enough for another breathy sound to reach him. Letting Sangwon sink deeper and get comfortable with his boyfriend. Gosh, that almost makes his eyes roll like a girl.

Then he stepped forward. 

The busy couple didn’t hear the door open. But the sound of a bag hitting the floor cut through everything. It wasn’t loud, yet it felt like it split the room open. The silence that followed was deafening.

Sangwon turned slowly, heart already dropping before his brain fully caught up.

Geonwoo stood just inside the room, a travel bag slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t breathing hard. He wasn’t flustered. He looked composed in a way that immediately felt wrong. His eyes were dark and unreadable as they swept over the scene in front of him without hurry.

He took in Heeseung’s hands, still gripping Sangwon’s waist. The way Sangwon was straddling him. The way his shirt was bunched high enough to expose far more than intended. He noticed that Sangwon’s was only left with some panties down there, then his eyes travelled back to his face. Swollen lips.

“Oh,” Geonwoo said evenly. “Plans changed.” The calmness in his voice felt deliberate.

Sangwon scrambled off his boyfriend’s lap without any rush, knees almost tangling in the sheets, but heart pounding a little inside for an entirely different reason. 

“You said you were staying with your parents the whole weekend,” Sangwon snapped, irritation rising fast enough to mask the embarrassment.

“I was supposed to. Turns out they had to travel because of some kind of emergency.” Geonwoo set his bag down deliberately, the motion controlled and unhurried. “Didn’t think I needed to send you a formal update.”

There was something pointed in the way he said it. Something that made Sangwon’s jaw tighten.

Then, as if he hadn’t just walked into something intimate, as if he hadn’t just stood there long enough to see too much, Geonwoo crossed the room and dropped onto his own bed. The mattress creaked softly under his weight. He stretched out on his back with casual ease, one arm tucked behind his head, the other retrieving his phone. He began scrolling with lazy indifference.

Like none of this mattered.

Sangwon almost gagged at the audacity. The absolute nerve of this fucker.

He rolled his eyes sharply, exhaled through his nose, then leaned down to press a quick kiss to Heeseung’s lips. “Babe, I'm sorry,” he whispered, voice low and apologetic.

Heeseung’s hands tightened briefly at Sangwon’s waist before letting go. The grip lingered for half a second longer than necessary. A silent claim. Then it loosened.

Sangwon slid off the bed fully, bare legs brushing against Heeseung’s jeans as he stood. He was only wearing an oversized shirt and adorable baby blue panties, the hem barely covering anything when he moved. 

Geonwoo almost laughed out loud. It took real effort not to.

A week ago, Sangwon had stood in front of him wearing lace — thin, delicate, sinful lace that clung to his hips and showed just enough to make it impossible not to look. He’d shifted slowly, knowingly, letting the fabric stretch over skin, letting Geonwoo’s gaze follow every inch. And then he walked away, leaving him burning.

Now here he was, listening to Sangwon unravel for someone else — and what was he wearing?

Not lace.

Not that teasing, taunting little piece of fabric that had been chosen so carefully the week before.

Just soft cotton. Cute and harmless.

Geonwoo’s mouth curved slowly. So he brings out the lace for me… but not for his beloved boyfriend?

The thought sent a pulse of satisfaction through him, sharp and immediate. Because lace wasn’t accidental. Lace was intentional. Lace was chosen. And Sangwon had chosen it when he knew Geonwoo would see.

Yeah.

Geonwoo definitely wins.

The soft cotton fabric shifted easily, revealing the curve of Sangwon’s thighs. His skin was still flushed, warmth lingering high on his cheeks and lower across his hips where Heeseung’s fingers had pressed hard enough to leave faint red impressions.

He didn’t bother rushing to cover himself. Partly because this was his space too. He refused to act like he’d been caught doing something shameful in his own room. And naturally, it didn’t even occur to him to hide. Geonwoo had already seen him like this. Almost this exposed. Closer than this, even. There had been moments, like lingering glances, near touches, that lace incident. So what was there to panic about now?

It wasn’t like Geonwoo was seeing anything new.

That casual thought, that careless lack of self-consciousness, showed in the way Sangwon stood there without scrambling for a hoodie or tugging his shirt down properly. He just reached for his shorts at an unhurried pace, bare legs on display, skin still faintly flushed.

At some point, Geonwoo’s phone had lowered to his chest. His gaze tracked Sangwon openly now, slow and thorough. There was no attempt to disguise it as casual observation. His eyes moved with deliberate patience, mapping the curve of Sangwon’s waist, the clean line of his thighs, the barely hidden swell of his ass still marked with fresh red fingerprints. The shirt shifted again when Sangwon bent slightly to grab his shorts, exposing more skin in the process. What was there to hide? Right?

Of course, Heeseung noticed the way Geonwoo looked.

And then the way he didn’t look away.

Something in Heeseung’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly. His jaw tightened. His posture straightened. The tension thickened in the room, heavy and sour.

“Next time, you knock,” Sangwon snapped, dragging his shorts up his legs with sharp, irritated movements before turning toward Geonwoo.

Geonwoo glanced back at his screen before answering, thumb still scrolling as if the conversation bored him. “Next time, you confirm I’m actually gone.”

“You could’ve texted.”

Geonwoo finally sat up slightly, resting back against his headboard. The lazy posture was intentional. His eyes flicked between them slowly, unreadable, assessing.

“I didn’t realize I needed permission to come home.”

“This isn’t just your home,” Heeseung shot back, the edge in his voice unmistakable now.

A faint brow lift from Geonwoo. Hm? “Isn’t it?”

The question hung in the air longer than it should have.

Sangwon felt the shift before he fully understood it. The subtle territorial undertone weaving itself between them. Heeseung’s hand brushed his lower back possessively, fingers splaying briefly against his skin like a reminder. 

And Geonwoo’s gaze lingered exactly there.

Not on Heeseung. On the hand. On the place it rested.

For the first time, Sangwon felt something unfamiliar creep into his chest. Something that felt like the beginning of a problem. Well, fuck.

Heeseung doesn’t bring it up again inside the apartment. After the tension coils tight in Sangwon’s bedroom and the air turns sharp with things unsaid, he just grows quiet. Too quiet, but not angry. Has he finally made up his mind?

When he finally says, “Walk me out?” It sounds almost normal.

Sangwon doesn’t question it. He assumes Heeseung just needs a moment away from the atmosphere upstairs. From Geonwoo. From the embarrassment of being interrupted. It makes sense. Sangwon would want distance too.

So he slips on his hoodie and follows him out of the dorm apartment.

The elevator ride down is heavy with silence. The fluorescent light overhead hums faintly. Sangwon glances at Heeseung once or twice, expecting him to make some sarcastic comment or lighten the mood like he usually does after arguments.

He doesn’t.

Heeseung keeps his eyes forward, jaw set, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

Outside, the night air is cool enough to sting slightly against bare skin. The campus is quieter at this hour, only a few students passing in the distance. The glow of streetlights spills across the pavement, casting long shadows that stretch and merge with one another.

They walk slowly toward the gate of the building, steps unhurried but not intimate. Sangwon brushes their hands together once, a subtle attempt to reconnect, but Heeseung doesn’t take his hand like he normally would.

That’s when unease starts to bloom in Sangwon’s chest.

“You’re still upset,” he says gently, trying to sound reassuring instead of defensive. “It was just bad timing. I swear I didn’t know he’d come back.”

Heeseung nods slightly, as if acknowledging the words but not fully engaging with them. They walk a few more steps before he slows down.

Not at the usual goodbye spot.

Sangwon notices the shift and stops too, turning toward him with a faint frown. “What is it?”

Heeseung looks at him for a long moment. Not angry. Not cold. Just searching.

“I’ve been trying to ignore this feeling,” he says quietly, voice steady but low. “But I can’t anymore.”

Sangwon feels his stomach tighten. “Ignore what?”

“The way things have been.”

Sangwon steps closer instinctively. “Things have been fine.”

Heeseung gives a small, almost sad smile. “They haven’t. You just didn’t notice.”

“What are you talking about?” Sangwon asks, confusion threading into his voice. He’s not pretending. He genuinely doesn’t see the fracture yet.

Heeseung exhales slowly, tilting his head back briefly as if organizing his thoughts before letting them spill out in a way that won’t cause unnecessary damage. “When I’m with you,” he begins carefully, “I love the way you laugh. The way you get competitive over stupid things. The way you light up when you’re passionate about something.” His gaze softens. “I love all of it.”

Sangwon’s throat tightens slightly at the sincerity.

“But lately,” Heeseung continues, “I don’t feel like I’m the only one who gets that version of you.”

Sangwon blinks. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Heeseung says, choosing each word deliberately, “there’s this energy between you and him that I don’t understand. And I don’t think you do either.”

Sangwon’s brows knit together. “Geonwoo?”

“Yes.”

“We fight,” Sangwon replies quickly. “That’s literally it. We’ve always fought.”

“It’s not just fighting.” Heeseung’s voice stays gentle, but firmer now. 

Sangwon frowns. “I don’t get it.”

Heeseung studies him for a second, as if deciding how honest to be without being cruel. “You react to him differently,” he says. “You’re sharper. More… charged? And I feel like I’m the one stepping into something that was already there before me.”

“That’s not fair,” Sangwon replies quickly. “You weren’t stepping into anything. I chose you.”

“I know you did.” Heeseung’s tone stays calm. “I’m not questioning that.”

“Then what are you questioning?”

“My place,” he answers simply.

That lands heavier than anything dramatic would have.

Sangwon’s expression softens. “You’re my boyfriend.”

“And I don’t want to feel like I’m competing with your roommate for any space,” Heeseung says. “Even if you don’t see it that way.”

“I— I don’t even like him. It’s you I lo..,” Sangwon speaks up then eventually hesitates to finish his words. That earns a sad smile from the guy in front of him.

“I know. Baby, I’ve never doubted that you care about me.,” Heeseung replies.

“Then why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because I don’t like how it makes me feel,” Heeseung says. “And that feeling isn’t going away.”

“Wait—why does this sound like a breakup?”

Heeseung’s eyes close for a second. “Because it is.” The word doesn’t explode. It settles between them like something heavy being set down carefully.

Sangwon’s breath catches. “No.”

“I don’t want to break up because I’m angry,” Heeseung says, voice beginning to waver despite his control. “And I don’t want to wait until I resent you. I’d rather leave while I still love you.” That hurts more than any accusation could have.

“You’re leaving me over a feeling,” Sangwon says, eyes beginning to burn. “Over tension you think you see.”

“I’m leaving because of how it makes me feel,” Heeseung replies, stepping closer. “I don’t feel secure. I don’t feel chosen in the way I should.”

Heeseung reaches up, brushing his thumb along Sangwon’s cheek in a familiar gesture that almost undoes him.

“You don’t even realize how much space he takes up in you,” Heeseung whispers. “And I don’t want to compete with something you haven’t even acknowledged yet.”

Sangwon shakes his head, tears finally slipping free despite his effort to hold them back. “I’m not in love with him.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want him.” 

Heeseung remains silent on that.

“Don’t leave.” The vulnerability in Sangwon’s voice is raw now, pleading. Heeseung swallows hard, eyes glossy under the streetlight.

“If I stay,” he says slowly, “I’ll start asking you to shrink yourself. To talk to him less. To stop reacting. To stop being you. And I don’t want to be that person.”

Sangwon’s chest aches with the weight of that realization. “I don’t want to change you.” Heeseung continues. That’s when Sangwon understands that this is a choice, not something just impulsive, or something to punish him. 

Heeseung pulls him into a hug then, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders. Sangwon clings back immediately, fingers gripping the back of his jacket like he can anchor the moment in place.

“I love you,” Heeseung murmurs against his hair. They stay like that for several seconds too long, both knowing it’s the last time. When Heeseung finally pulls away, his hands linger at Sangwon’s waist before dropping. “I hope you figure it out,” he says softly.

Sangwon stands frozen as Heeseung steps back, then turns toward the dimly lit path leading away from the dorm building.

And for the first time, faintly unsettled by the possibility that there really is something in that bond with his roommate he hasn’t dared to name.

Days after the break up, the apartment feels different.

Yeah, Sangwon still moves around, still showers with music playing faintly from his phone, still opens and closes cabinets with unnecessary force, but the energy has shifted. The sharpness in him is dulled. The spark that usually flares whenever Geonwoo makes a dry comment doesn’t ignite.

Geonwoo notices most at night.

Sangwon sits on the couch longer than usual, phone in hand, screen lighting up his face in the dark. He types. Deletes. Types again. Stares at the “delivered” text beneath his last message like it might rearrange itself into something else.

No reply.

When Geonwoo passes through the living room, Sangwon locks his screen too quickly. Not out of secrecy, but out of embarrassment. That’s how Geonwoo knows. Oh shit, they broke up?

The night he finds Sangwon drinking, it’s almost one in the morning. The living room is dim except for the TV casting a low blue glow across the walls. Some sitcom show plays almost silently, subtitles fading in and out across the bottom. The volume is lowered. The room feels hollow.

Sangwon is slouched sideways on the couch, one leg tucked under him, the other stretched out across the cushions. His shorts riled up to his thighs and his hoodie has slipped slightly off his shoulder. His hair is messy in a way that isn’t styled, just run-through too many times by restless fingers.

A bottle of whiskey sits open on the coffee table.

Geonwoo pauses in the hallway before stepping fully into the room. Sangwon is staring at his phone again. The screen lights up his face, reflecting in glassy eyes, and well, his glasses too, so Geonwoo clears his throat lightly.

“You planning on finishing that by yourself?”

Sangwon blinks slowly and turns his head toward him, eyes unfocused for half a second before recognition settles in. “Oh.” He squints. “You’re… you’re tall.”

Geonwoo arches a brow. “That’s new information?”

Sangwon stares at him for another beat before letting out a soft, delayed laugh. “You’re judging me.”

“I’m observing you,” Geonwoo corrects, stepping into the room.

He moves closer to the coffee table, glancing at the bottle. “How much?”

Sangwon follows his gaze lazily. “Enough.”

“That’s not a number.”

Sangwon shrugs, the motion loose and careless. “It’s not like I have class tomorrow.”

“You do.” Geonwoo remembers his schedule?

“Then I’ll skip.”

Geonwoo studies him more closely now. The slight flush along his cheeks. The faint redness around his eyes. The way his fingers grip the phone too tightly. Without asking, he grabs the second glass sitting on the table that's untouched until now and pours himself a small amount.

Sangwon watches him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“You don’t even like whiskey.”

“You remember that? Well, I don’t like seeing you finish this alone either,” Geonwoo replies evenly, sitting down on the far end of the couch. He's gonna be nice and he’s gonna behave tonight because Sangwon is obviously too vulnerable to fuck with.

For a moment, they sit in silence. The only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the silent flicker of the TV.

Sangwon takes another sip. It burns, and yet he doesn’t flinch. “He’s not answering me,” he says suddenly.

Geonwoo doesn’t look at him immediately. “Who?”

Sangwon turns his head slowly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Act like you don’t know.”

Geonwoo finally meets his gaze.

“Heeseung,” Sangwon says, the name softer now. Less sharp. “He won’t answer my calls. I called him six times yesterday.” His voice cracks slightly on the number. “Six. That’s embarrassing, right?”

What an ass. His hot, beautiful, lace-panty-wearing boyfriend—well, ex—is obviously begging him to come back, and he doesn’t answer? Geonwoo takes a slow sip before answering. “If he wanted to pick up, he would have.”

The bluntness makes Sangwon wince. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“What. You want me to lie?”

Sangwon doesn’t answer. He just stares at the TV screen without seeing it.

“He said we’re not good together,” he continues after a while, words spilling easier now. “That I don’t realize how much… space someone else takes up.”

Geonwoo’s jaw tightens subtly. “Someone else?” he repeats.

Sangwon turns his head toward him again, eyes hazy but searching. “You.”

The word hangs heavy.

Geonwoo sets his glass down carefully.

“And what did you say to that?”

“I said he was wrong.” Sangwon frowns faintly, like he’s replaying it in his head. “I said I chose him. I chose to date him. There were lots of guys who wanted me and I chose him. God, we even fuck occasionally. That's how deep our relationship has been. What the hell happened.”

Geonwoo closes his eyes for a moment at Sangwon's bluntness. “Anyway... And?”

“I don't even want to remember anymore. He told me some ‘I love you’s and I just... stood there.” The room feels smaller now.

Geonwoo leans back slightly, studying Sangwon’s expression. And then he teases in an attempt to better the mood, just slightly. “Thought you were in a deep relationship already?”

Sangwon stares at him for a long time. The alcohol softens his guard, but not his confusion.

“You’re annoying,” he says instead.

“I know, princess.”

“You get under my skin.” Sangwon shifts closer without realizing it as he tries to ignore the pet name. His knee bumps against Geonwoo’s thigh. He doesn’t move away. “You always have.” Geonwoo doesn’t retreat either.

“And?”

“And it’s exhausting.”

“And?”

Sangwon exhales sharply, frustrated. “And I don’t know why I care so much when you say something.”

Geonwoo’s gaze darkens slightly. “Maybe because you like it.”

Sangwon laughs breathlessly. “Wow, you sound so sure.”

“Hm, I usually am.”

The couch dips as Sangwon shifts again, closer this time. The distance between them narrows until their thighs press together fully. “Do you think it’s really over?” Sangwon asks quietly.

“Yes.” No hesitation. Geonwoo is hilarious as fuck.

Sangwon studies him like he’s trying to decide whether to be offended by the certainty.

“You don’t even look sad. Your roommate is heartbroken.”

“I’m not the one who got dumped.”

That makes Sangwon roll his eyes, but there’s no real bite behind it. He shifts again — and this time, he loses his balance. It happens quickly.

One second he’s leaning forward to grab his glass, the next his weight tips the wrong way and his hand shoots out to steady himself, landing flat against Geonwoo’s chest. Geonwoo reacts instinctively, hands catching his waist before he can slide off the couch. And suddenly—

Sangwon is in his lap.

Straddling him loosely, knees braced against either side of his hips. They both freeze. The air shifts immediately.

Sangwon’s breath is warm against Geonwoo’s jaw. His hoodie bunches slightly at his waist, exposing a strip of skin where Geonwoo’s fingers are still resting from catching him. Neither of them moves to correct it.

“You’re warm—no—hot. Why did you have to be so hot?” Sangwon murmurs, his voice softer now. Oh, the alcohol is really in his system. He is so gonna regret this once he’s sober.

“I am hot. And you’re drunk,” Geonwoo replies, trying to stop himself from smiling at Sangwon’s sudden remarks. His hands don’t move.

Sangwon’s fingers curl lightly into the fabric of Geonwoo’s shirt. Not pulling. Just holding.

“You think he was right?” Sangwon asks, eyes lifting slowly to meet his.

“About what?”

“About us.”

The word feels heavier this time.

Geonwoo’s thumb presses slightly into Sangwon’s waist without him noticing. “Well, you do wear your sexy lace panties for me but not for him.” He lets out a slight chuckle. “But there is no ‘us,’” he says quietly.

Sangwon rolls his eyes as he leans in closer, nose almost brushing his. “Then why does this feel like something?”

Their faces are inches apart now. Close enough to see the way Sangwon’s lashes flutter slightly. Close enough to feel each other’s breathing. Geonwoo’s gaze drops to his lips for half a second before returning to his eyes.

“You’re upset,” he says, voice rougher. “And I’m here.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Sangwon hesitates.

The alcohol fogs the edges of his thoughts, but something clear cuts through at the center.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” he whispers, almost sensually.

Geonwoo’s grip tightens subtly at his waist. “You’re not.”

Their foreheads nearly touch.

Sangwon’s eyes flick down again. For a second, just one, he leans in. And Geonwoo doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t move first either. Their lips hover so close the tension hums between them.

And then Sangwon stiffens.

The haze clears just enough. He pulls back abruptly, blinking hard as if waking himself up. “I… can’t,” he mutters, breath uneven. “I can’t do this.”

Geonwoo’s hands fall away slowly, though the absence of contact feels louder than the touch did.

Sangwon scrambles off his lap, nearly stumbling before catching himself on the armrest.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, rubbing his face with both hands. “I’m drunk. I don’t… I don’t want to use you like that.”

Geonwoo stands slowly. He wants to say he doesn’t mind. “You weren’t,” he says instead.

Sangwon shakes his head. “It would be wrong.”

“Wrong because of him?”

Sangwon hesitates. “… I don’t know.” Well, that’s the most honest answer he’s given all night. He grabs his phone from the table, staring at the dark screen like it might suddenly light up. It doesn’t.

Geonwoo reaches past him and gently takes the bottle away. “Go to sleep, Sangwon” he says quietly. Sangwon doesn’t fight him. He just nods once, exhausted, and heads toward their room.

Geonwoo stays in the living room long after the door closes.

Yep, it’s over. Heeseung isn’t coming back. And tonight proved something neither of them can pretend didn’t almost happen.

The awkwardness doesn’t explode after that night. It eventually dissolves. Not all at once, but slowly.

Geonwoo makes it too easy. Maybe he’s used to this, right? He surprisingly doesn’t bring up the almost-kiss. Doesn’t corner Sangwon. Doesn’t look at him with expectation or resentment. If he’s frustrated, and he must be, he hides it well. There’s no edge in his voice nor passive-aggressive remarks. Just the same steady, annoying presence.

Sangwon, on the other hand, is always bothered when he remembers. Which is new now. He used to not be bothered at all by Geonwoo’s existence. Hot existence. Which he remembers he admitted that night. Oh my god.

He remembers the alcohol on his own breath, the heat in his cheeks, the way Geonwoo’s hand had slid up his waist, fingers tightening like he was afraid Sangwon would disappear. He remembers the pause before their lips almost touched — the electricity in that almost. The way his heart had pounded so violently he thought it might shake the room apart.

And he remembers stopping it.

The way Geonwoo’s mouth had been right there. Close enough that if he had leaned forward just one inch—

Sometimes, when he’s alone, that memory replays in high definition. And his body reacts before his mind can catch up. It’s been weeks since the breakup with Heeseung. Weeks since anyone touched him like they meant it. Since anyone looked at him with hunger that wasn’t complicated.

He is human, after all. And he is horny for God’s sake. That night with Geonwoo being the last time he was ever touched with those intentions stuck in his mind. It was just an almost situation but he’s losing it.

Now everything is complicated and more frustrating than ever for him. 

Especially because Geonwoo is still Geonwoo. He walks around the apartment like nothing happened, sometimes fresh from the shower, towel slung low on his hips, water sliding down the lines of his chest. Or when he stretches lazily in the living room, arms over his head, shirt riding up just enough to reveal the hard planes of his stomach. He doesn’t even look at Sangwon when he does it. Which means he absolutely knows Sangwon is looking.

“You alright?” Geonwoo asks one evening, catching him staring again.

Sangwon snaps his gaze away. “What—yeah. Why?”

“You look.. red.”

“I am not.” 

Geonwoo hums, clearly unconvinced, and walks past him. Too close that their shoulders brush. He did that on purpose.

Sangwon’s frustration builds quietly. It sits low in his body, heavy and warm, coiled tight. His pride won’t let up. Never. He will not throw himself at his roommate—his hot, horny, annoying, the-reason-he’s-single roommate. Maybe he should go to a club and try getting laid? Ugh, no. That’s too much work. He has no energy for that; no energy for new people or one night stands. But the more he tries to ignore the sexual frustrations he’s been feeling, the more it pulses. Nights are the worst. The apartment is too quiet. His bed feels too empty. The fact that Geonwoo is just on the other side of the room, acting normal and not doing anything about it, was certainly not helping.

He tries distractions. Music. Books. Shows. Long showers. Nothing works.

Eventually, he does something impulsive. 

He eventually orders toys.

The decision feels both ridiculous and necessary. If he can’t have sex since he refuses to complicate things further, then he needs something. A release. A way to stop thinking about his roommate’s hands and mouth, and the way his voice drops when he teases. 

Or the fact that his boyfriend left him. Yeah, that’s a valid one. Sure.

The package arrives three days later. Sangwon waits until Geonwoo leaves for a late-night gym session before opening it. He sits on his bed, heart racing like he’s doing something illegal, and peels back the cardboard flaps. The contents are neatly packaged.

These shouldn’t be too complicated, right? He exhales slowly.

“Pathetic,” he mutters to himself, though he doesn’t mean it.

The first time he uses them, it’s cautious. Just for testing. Trying to focus on sensation instead of memory. It works for a little while. The clit sucker toy was amazing with all 10 intensity levels. He also bought a vibrating dildo. He used them for the first time, even squirted after a little while, quite enjoying the experience. But even then, even with his body responding, even with his breathing going shallow and his thighs tensing — his mind betrays him.

Because the angle reminds him of the way he wants Geonwoo to hover on top of him. Because the warmth makes him imagine a body closer than it should be. God, I fucking hate my roommate.

With his thighs spread wide, he thrusts the toy in and out of his slick hole, chasing that release. It took him nearly thirty minutes, and by then he’s completely worn out. His arms are aching, his legs are trembling. His glasses sit crooked on the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t even bother fixing them.

“Mmh… fuck, fuck, fuck. A–ah, please!” He cries out in his small voice, already worried he might be too loud. What if Geonwoo is about to come home?

Right. Geonwoo.

“G-Geonwoo… mmh—”

And there he goes.

He finishes, squirting all over the towel he put over his bed, but it’s still not enough.

It’s all back to normal now in their apartment. At least, that’s what Sangwon tells himself. He did find a solution—a temporary one, but whatever—to deal with his sexual frustrations. It works. It keeps him from thinking too hard.

But it still makes his stomach twist when he remembers that first time. How he got off with Geonwoo’s name on his tongue. The memory burns with embarrassment and shame. 

But Geonwoo doesn’t know. That’s what matters.

What Sangwon has been wondering, though, is why Geonwoo hasn’t been bringing people over. No random hookups. No one making out with him on their couch. He figures maybe Geonwoo is the one going over to other people’s places instead.

That’s… good. Right?

The truth is, Geonwoo hasn’t been sleeping with anyone at all. Not since that night. He’s been bothered by that almost-situation between them, and by the way Sangwon acts completely oblivious around him. They never brought it up. He notices that Sangwon gets flustered around him now, but that’s it. 

Not once did they talk about it. Sangwon still laughs at his jokes. Still argues about chores. Still sits beside him on the couch. But now he gets flustered. Red at the ears. Avoiding eye contact just a second too long.

And that’s it. That’s all Geonwoo gets. Whatever this is, it’s so goddamn frustrating.

Still, he hasn’t been with anyone.

Until one night.

He brings someone over. This time, it’s a girl he met at a club. They’ve been drinking and dancing all night, and something in him snaps when she starts grinding against him. It’s almost midnight when he asks if she wants to leave.

She says yes.

They stumble through the front door of the apartment, already all over each other. Geonwoo locks the door while kissing her hungrily, all teeth and tongue. They drop their things at the entrance. He lifts her up quickly, her legs wrapping around his waist as her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard.

From the corner of his eye, he spots Sangwon sitting on the couch.

Thin top. Shorts. Reading a book again. Those fucking glasses. He hates the glasses now. He really does.

The sight makes him kiss the girl harder until she lets out a loud moan into his mouth. He rushes them toward the bedroom he shares with Sangwon.

“Hey! Geonwoo! Not ther—” He hears Sangwon’s voice, sharp and loud, but he shuts the door quickly and locks it. Then he drops the girl onto the bed.

It’s the usual fuck routine he has with anyone. Clothes off. Heavy kissing. A bit of rushed preparation. Protection too, of course. He never fucks just anyone raw, a rule he made for himself. And finally, they start fucking. It’s all messy and loud.

Loud enough for Sangwon to hear from the living room. If he’s still there.

He’s never brought anyone into their shared bedroom before. It’s always been off-limits—even for him. But right now, he doesn’t know what pushed him to do it. All he knows is that he’s still frustrated as hell about Sangwon, and some ugly part of him wants Sangwon to hear it.

The girl’s moans rise beneath him, breathless and sharp. The sounds in the room grow louder, exaggerated, almost theatrical. “G-Geonwoo! Mmh, right there!” The girl being loud beneath him satisfied something in him. Satisfied in a way that she was loud enough. The skin slapping was loud too. It’s like straight out of a porn video.

They go on for nearly an hour before exhaustion finally wins. They fall asleep in the aftermath.

They wake up around five in the morning. The girl gets up with trembling legs, and gathers her clothes to start dressing.

Oh, fuck. Where did Sangwon sleep?

He fucked up. Real bad.

Geonwoo gets dressed quickly and escorts her out of the bedroom. His eyes immediately search the living room. Sangwon is still there.

Curled up on the couch. Probably cold. A hoodie has been draped over his legs for warmth. His mouth is slightly pouted in his sleep. His glasses are off, resting neatly on top of the book on the coffee table.

Geonwoo exhales slowly. He feels awful. He really does.

“I really enjoyed last night. Call me for another good time.” Oh, right. The girl. What was her name again? 

She leans in for a quick goodbye kiss, but Geonwoo turns his face away. “Y-Yeah… You, uh… take care. Get home safe, hm?” He forces a polite smile and walks her to the door.

When she’s gone, he moves toward Sangwon immediately. He rubs his temples with a sigh—he’s done that at least ten times since waking up.

Sangwon is going to hate him even more after this. The couch isn’t even long enough to sleep on comfortably. His body must hurt. Carefully, Geonwoo slides one arm beneath Sangwon’s knees and the other behind his back. He lifts him gently from the couch.

Up close, Sangwon looks softer and prettier. Completely unaware. So innocent looking that you’d never know what that mouth could do. Geonwoo’s breath catches for a second before he shakes his head, forcing himself to focus.

He carries Sangwon to his bed and lays him down carefully, pulling the pink blanket over him. Like a princess.

“Hmm…” Sangwon shifts, settling deeper into the mattress, finally comfortable. He doesn’t wake up.

Sorry.

Geonwoo stands there for another second before turning away. He strips his own bed, changing the sheets carefully and tossing the used ones into the laundry basket.

Three hours later, Sangwon wakes up.

Geonwoo is at his desk, freshly showered, with his laptop open. He’s trying to work on some paperwork, but hasn’t done any real work. He’s been bothered this whole time, he couldn’t even sleep.

The sound of sheets rustling makes his stomach clench, but he still looks over. Sangwon is staring at the ceiling for a second before turning his head. Their eyes meet.

The look in Sangwon’s eyes was cold. “Fuck you, by the way.” Was the first thing to come out of his mouth, and he means it.

Geonwoo swallows. I deserve that.

“I know.” I’m sorry. He doesn’t add anything else to defend himself.

Sangwon sits up slowly, jaw tight. “You did that on purpose.” Not a question.

Geonwoo’s silence is answer enough. That makes Sangwon release one humorless laugh. 

“Was it fun? Making sure I could hear everything?”

Geonwoo’s chest feels tight. “I—”

“Don’t.” Sangwon stands up. “Just don’t.” He swings his legs off the bed.

“I hate you,” he says flatly. “Don’t ever touch me again.” He snaps as he makes his way to the bathroom, shutting the door with a quiet click.

Yes, Sangwon was still angry at Geonwoo. But what else was new?

Seeing Geonwoo sleep with someone wasn’t new either. The first time they met, it had been in almost the exact same situation: tangling of hair, someone else in Geonwoo’s touch, Sangwon standing there pretending he didn’t care. So what the fuck was different now? Why was it clawing at him like this?

He can’t stand Geonwoo.

Actually, scratch that.

He can’t stand him three times more than usual.

Maybe it was because Geonwoo crossed a line this time. A boundary they never had to speak about because it was just understood. Their bedroom was off-limits. Sacred in the dumbest, most unspoken way. And Geonwoo stomped all over that.

Or maybe it was because he heard everything. Every sound, every breath, every moan that didn’t belong to him. The fact that it was done on purpose to get back to him made him feel worse. The memory plays on a loop in his head like an earworm he can’t shake off no matter how hard he tries. It slips into quiet moments. It creeps in when he’s brushing his teeth. When he’s trying to sleep.

Or.

Maybe it was because it was a girl this time. But why would that matter? It shouldn’t. God, if only Geonwoo knew what he had. That’s why he wears panties all the time. Whatever.

Right now, Sangwon is lying on his bed, fully committed to bed-rotting. It’s been days since that night, but whatever this feeling is, whether jealousy, humiliation, resentment, or something uglier, it won’t fade away.

And Geonwoo’s been trying.

Trying to talk to him. Trying to act normal. Trying to tease him back into their usual rhythm like nothing happened. But Sangwon refuses to give him that satisfaction. Every time Geonwoo gets too close, he practically hisses at him like a cornered cat.

Like the day before.

“You’re very pretty today,” Geonwoo says casually, leaning against the doorframe like he doesn’t have a care in the world. His tone is light, almost playful, as if this is just another normal afternoon for them.

Sangwon doesn’t even look at him. “Ew. Shut up,” he replies flatly, focusing on his reflection instead. He dabs a bit of blush onto the tip of his nose and under his eyes, blending carefully. His hands are steady, but his jaw is tight.

Geonwoo pushes himself off the doorframe and steps closer anyway. “Oh, that orange blush? It’s pretty.” He tilts his head, studying him shamelessly. “You’re pretty.”

Sangwon pauses mid-motion. The silence stretches.

He exhales sharply through his nose, obviously. His eyes flick to Geonwoo’s reflection in the mirror. There’s something challenging in the way Geonwoo is looking at him. Like he’s waiting for a reaction.

“Are you done?” Sangwon asks coolly, turning slightly so their shoulders almost brush but not quite.

Geonwoo smiles softly. “Just appreciating the view.”

Sangwon finally turns fully and glares at him. His ears are faintly red.

“Okay, okayyy. I’ll back off,” Geonwoo says with a small laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender.

But he doesn’t move away immediately. That’s literally the problem. Because even when angry, resentful, or swearing he hates him, Sangwon is painfully aware of how close Geonwoo is.

And Geonwoo knows it.

Sangwon rolls his eyes at the memory, groaning as he clutches his plushie tightly, irritation buzzing under his skin. He just wants to stop thinking about his roommate and let everything pass. Nothing is ever going to happen between them.

His sweet, loving ex-boyfriend left him for nothing.

And now he doesn’t have anyone to give him attention. No one to kiss him. No one to fuck him. It’s like all kinds of frustration poured from the sky one day, and Sangwon forgot to bring a fucking umbrella.

He doesn’t mind being alone. He can live without a boyfriend. But with all the tension with his annoyingly good-looking (ew!) roommate, it’s driving him insane. Personally. Sexually. Emotionally. You name it.

He checks his phone. It’s only 7 p.m. Geonwoo probably won’t be home until eleven or twelve, like he normally does.

Sangwon bites his lip as an idea forms. A way to let out all this frustration while he’s still alone. He pushes his comforter aside and reaches underneath his bed, pulling out a small, hidden box. It contains things he obviously doesn’t want anyone to find. Things he definitely doesn’t want Geonwoo to know about.

Sex toys and lube. He quickly sets them on bed. One by one, he places everything on the sheets.

Then he slips off his shorts, revealing the lace panties he’s wearing underneath. Hot pink, with a bow in the middle — currently his favorite.

Slowly, he spreads his thighs apart a little and begins rubbing slow, circular motions over his clit through the thin fabric. Yes, he has a pussy. My god, why did Heeseung even leave after getting a taste of this?

The thought makes him press harder.

After a few more rubs, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his panties and pulls them down to his knees. He leans back against the pillows so he can stay half-sitting, half-reclined.

He spreads his legs wider this time, while pouring a generous amount of lube onto his pink, freshly shaved pussy. The cool slickness mixes with the natural wetness already slowly gushing from him. “Mhm…”

Once he feels like there’s enough slickness, he teases his entrance slowly before pushing one finger inside. It’s nothing new to him, something he’s done countless times, but being this touch-deprived makes even the smallest sensation feel overwhelming.

He exhales sharply as he adds a second finger, stretching himself carefully while his other hand slides up beneath his shirt. He tugs the fabric higher and pinches at his nipple, testing the sensitivity there. “A–ahh… hm… more…” he breathes to no one, eyes fluttering shut.

He pushes in a third finger, pausing at the sting before easing through it. Once they’re fully inside, they move smoothly, sliding in and out with ease. He’s that wet, that worked up. It’s almost ridiculous. 

He feels hot. Too hot. Why is nobody fucking him?

When his hand starts to get sore, he pulls his fingers out and reaches for his clit sucker toy. This one always feels almost electric — sharp and intense in the best way. It’s the one that makes him lose control the fastest. He parts his thighs wider and presses it against himself, already turning it up to the third setting.

“F–fuck! Oh my god…”

His legs tremble instantly, trying to close on instinct, wanting friction. He forces them back open with his free hand, keeping himself exposed as the sensation builds. He squirms against the mattress, hips shifting restlessly. “Mmh… yeah… fuck, more, more…” He sounds like someone else is touching him, like he’s being wrecked, when he’s the one doing all the work. How pathetic is that?

Hooking his arms back for leverage, he then brings his free hand down again, sliding two fingers back inside himself. He moves them faster this time, matching the toy’s relentless pulse.

His stomach tightens. His breathing turns uneven. The sensation shoots through his thighs like static, like something buzzing under his skin.

Who needs a man when toys and your own fingers can make you feel like this? 

“A–ah! Oh, fuck—” His legs shake violently this time. He pulls his fingers out just as his body tips over the edge, a gush of liquid squirting out of him as he cries out.

He’s left clenching around nothing, hips twitching, the toy still humming against him. The scene right now is all messy. Filthy. He stares down at himself, dazed, chest heaving. He needs to take a video next time. These toys are really magic. 

Taking a minute or two to catch his breath, Sangwon lets his head fall back against the pillows. His chest rises and falls heavily, skin still buzzing from the aftershock.

Of course, he’s not done yet.

He never backs down after just one orgasm. That’s never been his thing. He likes the challenge. The thrill of pushing himself further. The edging. The way he becomes so sensitive that every touch feels sharper, more electric, after he’s already come multiple times. His hand reaches for his dildo. He’s stretched out now, relaxed and pliant, so he figures he’ll be fine.

Coating the toy generously with lube, fingers slick and shining under the dim light, he slowly brings the tip down and rubs it against himself first, teasing the entrance. The contact alone makes him shiver. He exhales slowly before pressing in, inch by careful inch.

He takes his time, still sensitive from earlier. Every drag makes his breath hitch, every push makes his hips lift slightly off the mattress. It’s slow.

It almost makes him want to cry. Yeah, this feels pretty good, but it’s not the same. Silicone can’t replace warmth. It can’t replace weight. It can’t replace the feeling of being filled by someone real. He misses real dick.

He’s a pretty guy with a pretty, pink, fat pussy — so why is he stuck dealing with a damn toy? It’s absurd. He’s every gay man’s fantasy. A fucking dream. They’d line up just to get a chance to fuck him if he so much as hinted at what he’s packing. He knows it. He’s seen the way men look at him. The double takes, the lingering stares.

God, what if he actually did it? Broadcast it that he has a pussy like every other girl. Let them know. That’s a great idea, huh? Getting absolutely ruined by more than one man at a time. The thought makes his stomach flip. Maybe he should try a threesome next time. His boyfriend left him for having tension with his roommate, and his roommate won’t even have the balls to fuck him. He’s very much available. Technically, he has options. Plenty of them.

Ugh.

The frustration makes him push the dildo in deeper. “H–hm… right there…” he whispers, voice small and breathy. He gasps softly as he adjusts to the size, muscles fluttering around it. Once the initial stretch settles into something warmer, heavier, he begins to move it slowly.

In.

Out.

He pushes his upper body higher so he can sit more properly, then fixes his glasses in place. He widens the gap between his thighs, his feet lifted in the air, so he can get a good view of how the toy moves in and out of him. There’s so much wetness coming out of it.

“That’s so hot,” Sangwon says, closing his eyes as he picks up the speed.

This is what the men are missing out on.

Sangwon is completely out of it as he indulges himself, all his frustrations slowly leaving his body as he chases his climax. He has no idea the door isn’t actually locked, his eyes still closed as soft whines slip past his lips.

The door swung open without warning.

“Well,” Geonwoo drawled, voice low and unhurried, “this is a first.”

Sangwon froze.

He was half-propped against the pillows, hair a mess from running his hands through it, shirt pushed up just enough to expose the sharp line of his waist and a hard nipple. His cheeks were flushed, the color climbing all the way to the tips of his ears. Actually, everywhere he touched was flushed red. He was always easy to bruise.

His chest rose and fell too fast. For half a second, they just stared at each other.

Geonwoo took everything in. The rumpled sheets. The charged stillness in the room. The way Sangwon’s pupils were blown wide, startled and embarrassed, but dark with something else entirely. His gaze lowered slowly, deliberately, tracing the line of thick thighs spread apart, hot pink lace panties dangling at his knees. Damn the messy sheets, though. They hid the important part Geonwoo should have seen by now.

“Oh for God’s sake—” Sangwon swore and grabbed the nearest hoodie, dragging it over himself with jerky movements. His hole clenches at nothing when he secretly pulls out the dildo from him. The fabric swallowed his frame, but it didn’t hide the tension vibrating through him. “You don’t knock?” he snapped.

Why is he home already? I’m gonna kill myself. Goodbye.

Geonwoo stepped fully inside anyway, nudging the door shut with his heel. The soft click echoed too loudly. “Uh, I live here?” he said simply, or sarcastically.

Sangwon looked devastating when he was embarrassed. He always had. Pale skin flushed pink, lips parted just slightly like he’d been caught mid-breath. His soft brown hair fell into his eyes, and he shoved it back with an irritated hand. Geonwoo had always liked that about him. Liked how reactive he was. And just recently, liked how easy it was to make him unravel.

“It’s still early. Why are you here now? You could’ve texted.” Sangwon can’t quite remove the annoyance from his tone. Geonwoo isn’t supposed to be here, and he should’ve been well into his second orgasm by now.

“And what? Miss this?” Geonwoo tilted his head as a smirk forms. He leaned back against the door at first, arms folding over his broad chest with an amused expression on his face. His gray sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, veins faintly visible under warm skin. He looked composed, unfairly so.

Sangwon followed his line of sight. Somewhere just beside him on the bed. To what he hadn’t put away fast enough — his toys and lube. His stomach dropped. “Fuck off,” he said automatically. 

Geonwoo’s lips twitched. “So that’s what you’ve been doing lately. You always do this when I’m away for class?”

“Shut up. Please leave.”

“You seemed busy.”

“I was busy.” The emphasis lingered. Something in Geonwoo’s expression shifted. He didn’t move immediately. He just stood there, studying Sangwon like he was a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve yet.

He could leave. He should leave. Instead, he took one slow step forward. The distance shortened by barely a foot. And of course, Sangwon noticed. He felt the heat rush everywhere in his body. Geonwoo always knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Measured and taking his time, Geonwoo took another step.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I never thought you’d be into toys.”

Sangwon’s expression hardened. “Don’t.”

“Being single has been rough, huh, princess? Should I help you out or call your ex?”

His pussy almost throbs at the pet name. Goddamn you, Geonwoo. “Get out.”

“Hmm.. no.”

Another step.

Now he was close enough that Sangwon could smell his cologne, something clean and faintly woody. Memories flashed unwanted through Sangwon’s mind: Geonwoo’s hand at his waist in the kitchen. Fingers brushing his shoulder when he passed behind him. Leaning too close on the couch, thigh pressed to thigh.

‘Why does your roommate look at you like that?’ Sangwon had always said the same thing. He doesn’t.

But standing here now, with Geonwoo’s eyes dragging over him again, slower this time, and heavier — it was impossible to lie to himself. Geonwoo reached the edge of the bed. He just stood there, looking down at Sangwon bundled in the oversized hoodie, which was doing a very poor job of disguising the fact that he’d been interrupted mid-pleasure.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?” Geonwoo blurts out. He doesn’t give a damn about pretending to not give a fuck anymore.

“I know that,” Sangwon shot back, though his voice wavered. “Now get out. You’re not helping.”

“Hmm.. I’d like to think that I am.”

Well.. “You’re not.” Hmm, there’s half lie in there.

Geonwoo lifts his hand slowly, which makes  Sangwon’s breath catch despite himself. He expected Geonwoo to grab him, tease him, say more infuriating stuff. Instead, Geonwoo’s fingers brushed the hem of the hoodie. Just the edge.

Sangwon’s pulse jumped. “Geonwoo—”

“What?” His tone was almost innocent. But his eyes weren’t. His fingers slipped just slightly beneath the fabric, lifting it an inch. That was more than enough for him to understand the truth about his pretty-like-a-girl roommate.

Heat flared up Sangwon’s neck instantly. “Are you insane?” he hissed, grabbing at the hoodie to pull it back down.

The look on Geonwoo’s face is a mix of shock and arousal, like he’s already curating the thoughts inside his thoughts that’s all about ruining Sangwon.

He has a pussy. Like a girl. I have never been happier that the gym was closed today. What the fuck. I’m hitting that. Right now. 

“Baby,”

…

“You have a pussy?”

Sangwon rolls his eyes at the question, though he can’t ignore the subtle clench in his pussy at the pet name. It’s embarrassing how his body reacts despite everything. “Yeah. I have one,” he says flatly. “Can you go so I can finish and clean up?”

Geonwoo is painfully hard, man. He can feel it, throbbing and insistent, straining against his jeans. The sight in front of him isn’t helping at all. “You’re insane, you know that?”

Sangwon lets out a dry laugh. “You’ve never fucked a man with a pussy before? That’s sad.”

Geonwoo almost rolls his eyes, but he has bigger priorities right now. His gaze drags slowly over Sangwon’s half-naked body — the lace panties pushed down to his knees, the flushed skin, the way he’s still glistening between his thighs. “I can help you finish,” he says in a teasing tone, but he absolutely means it.

“No fucking thanks. You’re the very reason I’m not getting dicked down by my ex right now. And, oh, I hate you. Please go.” The words tumble out of Sangwon’s mouth too fast. He’s aware of how exposed he looks, sitting there, panties dangling, chest rising and falling a little too quickly. And having Geonwoo standing right there, towering over him, staring? It’s not helping. If anything, it’s making him hornier. Geonwoo needs to leave. Now.

Not gonna let me help? Fine. “Well… I’m gonna say no.”

“What?” Sangwon blinks at him. “Just 30 minutes, please.” His voice nearly wavers into a whine, round eyes lifting toward him in pleading. Almost. He refuses to fully beg, but he’s close. He’s desperate.

Geonwoo feels like he might actually lose it. The princess is begging.

“I said no.”

“But I’m asking nicely!” Sangwon snaps back. Brat.

Geonwoo exhales through his nose, amused. “Well, this is my room too, so… I get to do what I want. It’s also yours, so do whatever you have to do, princess. I’ll watch.” A slow smirk spreads across his face as he steps back toward his own bed, deliberately unhurried. He sits down, spreading his legs slightly, making himself comfortable.

Sangwon just stares at him, genuinely stunned.

Watch?

For a few seconds, he can’t even form a response. His eyes trail after Geonwoo helplessly as he settles onto his bed across the room. Even from here, Sangwon can see the outline in his jeans. He notices the prominent bulge that makes his stomach twist unexpectedly. Is he really that hung? That probably explains the endless parade of people he brings home.

And that thought hits something ugly and unresolved at the back of Sangwon’s mind. The memory he’s been trying to bury. The night he had to lie at the living room’s couch and listen to every sound while Geonwoo fucked a girl in their shared bedroom. The headboard hitting the wall. The breathless moans. The deliberate lack of consideration.

He scoffs under his breath, a quiet, sarcastic chuckle escaping him.

“Okay,” Sangwon says finally.

Geonwoo tilts his head. “Hm?”

“You can stay. And watch.” Sangwon lifts his chin, trying to reclaim some control. “But do not come any closer. And you’re not allowed to touch yourself. Ew.” As if he wouldn’t get off on that sight alone. He just refuses to admit it.

“Bossy. I like that.” 

He gently moves the hoodie that had been covering him and sets it aside. He’s aroused, but his arms are already starting to ache. Still, he wants Geonwoo to suffer a little. He can push through this.

Grabbing the dildo again, he reapplies some lube, his other hand moving slowly over his clit as he tries to coax his body into relaxing again. He shifts slightly on the bed, turning his body just enough so Geonwoo can see him better from across the room, his thighs parting little by little. After a few more rubs, he pulls his hand away and instead slaps the toy teasingly against his pussy, drawing out the moment on purpose. It’s throbbing embarrassingly under Geonwoo’s gaze, and he knows it.

Perfect.

His hips jerk slightly as he continues the teasing rhythm, clearly aware of the audience he has now. “Hm…” he lets out softly before finally beginning to insert the toy inside of him again, slowly easing back into it. When he finally settles, the sensation almost makes his eyes sting.

“Fuck… s-so full…” he breathes, adjusting to it as his hips begin to rock slowly.

Across the room, Geonwoo drags a hand over the front of his pants despite the warning Sangwon gave earlier. Just light pressure. It’s barely anything. He’s not really doing anything… technically. He’s going to make sure he finishes this the way he wants tonight.

“You already feel full?” Geonwoo scoffs lightly. “I’m surprised. I thought that toy would be too small for a brat like you.”

His plan is simple: let Sangwon keep going. He’d clearly been at this for a while before Geonwoo even walked in. Eventually he’ll get tired. Eventually he’ll need help.

At least, that’s what Geonwoo confidently tells himself.

Sangwon begins to pick up the pace. The steady rhythm fills the room, his breathing growing heavier the longer he keeps going. Geonwoo notices the way his expression shifts—flushed, strained, eyes glassy like he’s right on the edge. “A-Ah… please… just.. just wanna c-cum..,” Sangwon breathes, his voice thin with frustration.

“You’re doing well, princess,” Geonwoo says. The words are teasing, but there’s a hint of something genuine there too. Sangwon’s lasting longer than he expected. Hell, Geonwoo might actually cum in his pants without getting to fuck his sexy roommate at all.

Sangwon lets out a shaky sound at the praise. “M-Mhm… sh-shut up…” He still manages to throw the insult at him anyway.

Geonwoo almost laughs. Watching him struggle through it, thighs trembling with effort, Geonwoo starts to think Sangwon’s really about to finish. Is he seriously not going to let him help? Not going to let him touch him at all?

But then something shifts. 

And suddenly, Geonwoo thinks the universe might actually be on his side tonight.

“Ugh!” Sangwon’s legs and arms finally give out, trembling after keeping himself propped up and moving for what feels like forever. 

“You need help?” Geonwoo smirks, biting his lip as he watches, clearly enjoying the view.

Sangwon groans. “No.” It comes out more like a whine than he intends. Frustration mixes with arousal, and Geonwoo’s presence only makes it worse.

Is it because Geonwoo is watching? Or because he’s just watching?

“You sure, princess? You don’t look done to me.”

Sangwon pauses. Geonwoo’s deep voice slides over his skin like a touch. He isn’t even saying anything filthy yet, but it still feels like he’s being talked through it. And Sangwon loves being talked through it.

“Okay.” The word slips out before he can think.

“Hm?”

“Come over here. Hurry.”

Fucking finally.

Geonwoo doesn’t hesitate. He moves closer, trying to contain his excitement, and sits beside Sangwon. Now he gets the full view—legs spread, thighs shaking, slick pooling and slowly dripping. Sangwon’s pink clit throbs visibly, and his hole clenches around nothing, desperate and empty. Geonwoo curses under his breath. “Holy shit. That’s hot.”

Sangwon rolls his eyes. “So?”

“So what?”

“Help me out. Oh my god.” Sangwon’s voice cracks with impatience. He grabs his toys and shoves them toward Geonwoo, who is still staring between his legs. From the corner of his eye, Sangwon notices the obvious bulge straining against Geonwoo’s sweatpants.

Geonwoo ignores the toys completely. Instead, he places his hands on Sangwon’s thighs and pushes them wider, exposing him even more. Without warning, he spits directly onto Sangwon’s clenching hole.

“H-hey! I have lube—and the toys. Come on!” Sangwon sounds close to tears now. He needs to be touched, needs something inside him again. He tries to press the toys into Geonwoo’s hands, but only earns a low chuckle.

“I’m not using those.”

“What? Why not?”

“Don’t you want the real thing, baby? Look at you.”

Geonwoo stands and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the bed. His abs tighten as he moves, shoulders flexing. His eyes never leave Sangwon’s entrance. The bulge in his sweatpants is even more pronounced now.

Sangwon’s breath hitches. Why is he so big?

He almost drools—almost. Then he forces himself back to reality.

“Oh no. No, no. We are not fucking. Stay away.” His tone is sharp, commanding, completely at odds with the way his pussy throbs harder at the sight of Geonwoo’s body. He doesn’t close his legs. He doesn’t shift away. He stays exactly as he is—spread open and ready.

“Hm. Sure. Of course we’re not.” Geonwoo smirks as he steps closer, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and pushing them down. “Let me just— rub against your pussy, hm? I’m so fucking hard, and it’s your fault anyway. Win-win, right?”

“That’s—” Sangwon cuts himself off as Geonwoo drops his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and long, slapping lightly against his abdomen before standing tall and rigid.

“What’s that?” Geonwoo strokes himself once, slow and deliberate. “I’m not gonna fuck you, princess. Don’t worry.”

…

Sangwon gives in. Of course he does. Fuck.

“F-Fine.. But! If it doesn't feel good, you’re grabbing my toys and finishing the job.” He snaps, wiggling his hips impatiently. “Promise you won’t put it in?”

Nope.

Geonwoo only hums in response as he kneels between Sangwon’s legs, his cock hovering dangerously close to his dripping heat. It twitches at the sight of Sangwon’s glossy eyes — still glassy from tears, lips swollen and flushed, thighs trembling faintly, with faint red marks across his skin.

The moment their parts touch, they both let out a synchronized moan. It’s instinctive, pulled from somewhere deep in their chests, like their bodies recognize the contact before their minds even catch up. They both know they’ve been waiting for this moment, whether they admitted it or not.

Geonwoo starts slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring the first contact. He taps the tip of his cock against Sangwon’s clit once, then again, watching closely for every reaction that flickers across Sangwon’s face. With his other hand, he reaches for the bottle of lube, popping it open and squeezing a small amount right on top of Sangwon’s pussy. The cool liquid glistens as it spreads, mixing with the slick already gathered there.

He rubs himself against him again, slower this time, letting the lube spread between them. The glide becomes smoother, wetter.

Even though he’s only just started, the sounds between them are already obscene—soft, wet friction filling the quiet room with every slow drag of skin against skin. Each movement pulls another shaky breath from Sangwon, his thighs twitching slightly as Geonwoo continues to rub against him, unhurried but clearly enjoying every second of it.

“Pull your legs up for me, baby.”

Even through the haze clouding his mind, Sangwon does exactly what he’s told. The sight of Geonwoo leaning over him, so close, finally feeling that huge as fuck dick pressed against him makes his head spin. His arms move almost on instinct, hooking behind his own knees despite the weakness in them, pulling his legs higher and spreading himself open even more.

“There we go. Look at you,” Geonwoo murmurs, his voice low and rough, like he’s just as out of it. “You’re beautiful.”

The words come out slower now, heavier, as his gaze drops between Sangwon’s thighs. Up close like this, the view is even worse for his self-control. Sangwon’s legs are spread wide, his body flushed and trembling beneath him.

Geonwoo starts rubbing harder, slower but with more pressure, watching the way Sangwon reacts to every movement. From this angle he can see everything—Sangwon’s pussy lips glistening, the small hole clenching and relaxing helplessly. The sight alone makes his jaw tighten. All he can think about is filling it, stuffing it full of his cum already.

Sangwon, on the other hand, can barely keep himself together. Almost every movement Geonwoo makes pulls a small sound out of him. Soft whines, broken breaths, little moans he can’t hold back. And every time he hears himself, every time another helpless sound slips out, his chest tightens like he might start crying from how overwhelming it feels.

As Geonwoo picks up the pace, Sangwon squirms under his touch, the movement making his glasses slip crookedly down the bridge of his nose. With a small, frustrated sound, he lifts a hand to his face, fingers reaching for the frame as if to pull them off, but Geonwoo immediately notices the attempt.

“No. Keep your glasses on.”

“Why? It’s all foggy to me now. I can’t—” Sangwon cuts himself off mid-sentence when he realizes what he was about to admit.

Geonwoo smirks faintly. “See how I’m rubbing your very wet pussy? Hold on, princess.”

He reaches behind Sangwon and grabs one of the pillows that had been scattered above his head. With a quick motion, he props it behind Sangwon’s back, lifting his upper body slightly. The new angle forces Sangwon to be more upright, his legs still spread wide, giving him a clear view of everything happening between them.

“But keep the glasses on,” Geonwoo continues casually. “Just wipe them if they fog up, hm?”

“What the fuck? Is that a kink or something?”

Geonwoo only shrugs, like it’s not a big deal at all, and keeps moving his hand.

“You’re the weirdest—oh fuck… mm… g-guy ever,” Sangwon stammers, his voice breaking when a sudden movement sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through him. Geonwoo brushes right over his clit, and the reaction that spills out of him is immediate—loud, helpless, and incredibly embarrassing.

Sangwon keeps holding onto his own legs, pulling them wider as if that might somehow help the pressure building inside him. His stomach tightens, and at the same time the muscles lower in his body clench helplessly around nothing. His mouth hangs open as he gasps with every movement Geonwoo makes above him.

From this angle, Geonwoo practically swallows him whole. The man is huge with his broad shoulders, long arms braced on either side of Sangwon’s body, his entire figure looming over him like he was built to dominate every inch of the bed.

Why the hell is Geonwoo such a giant?

“Have I told you before how hot you look in those glasses?” Geonwoo mutters, voice low and rough as his gaze drops to where their bodies rub together. “I’ll fuck you so hard, and I’d still ask you to keep them on for me.”

His cock twitches against Sangwon’s slick heat, the tip dragging along the swollen clit that’s already throbbing from all the stimulation.

“You k-kinky motherfucke—A-AH! Pleaseplease…” Geonwoo’s movements grow sloppier, rougher, and the head of his cock almost catches inside Sangwon for a moment.

Almost.

Sangwon is right there. So close that he can practically taste the orgasm waiting at the edge of his body. But it refuses to come because nothing is inside him.

With a frustrated cry, he suddenly pushes Geonwoo’s cock away and reaches down between them. Two of his fingers slip inside himself immediately.

“H-ha… oh fuckfuckfuck… please…”

Geonwoo raises an eyebrow, watching the desperate attempt. “Really now?”

“’M sorry… I just—” Sangwon’s voice breaks into a whine. His eyes sting and tears start spilling out despite himself. “Why isn’t it working…”

“Baby,” Geonwoo murmurs softly, leaning closer, “let me do it.”

“R-rubbing’s not enough… mmhh… G-Geonwoo…”

So, Geonwoo lets him try. He’s almost amused watching Sangwon struggle with his own fingers, clearly too worked up and too sensitive to actually finish like that. With those fingers? Yeah, right.

Geonwoo slowly strokes his own cock in his hand, just enough to ease the pressure building in his hips, and to survive watching this.

Sangwon keeps going for a few seconds longer before his arms finally give out. His fingers slide out of himself and he collapses back against the pillows with a frustrated cry, chest rising and falling quickly as tears slip down the sides of his face.

That’s when Geonwoo moves again.

His hand comes down sharply against Sangwon’s clit before sliding down to the entrance of his hole, immediately starting the rubbing motion again with his cock. “Holy shit…” Geonwoo breathes under his breath.

Sangwon is somehow even wetter than before. The slickness coats everything, dripping down onto the sheets beneath them. His thighs shine with it, his body trembling under Geonwoo’s touch.

If Sangwon is this worked up, how the hell hasn’t he come yet? Geonwoo's never fucking anyone else again.

He keeps dragging his hard cock through the wet heat between Sangwon’s legs, chasing the pleasure building inside his own body now. His hips start moving faster, a little harder, sometimes losing rhythm because Sangwon is so slick he can barely keep control.

“Fuck, baby—”

And then it happens.

One careless thrust pushes forward too hard. His cock suddenly slips inside. Both of them moan loudly at the same time. Nearly half of Geonwoo slides in before he even processes what just happened—and the moment he feels it, the tight heat surrounding him, he freezes.

There is absolutely no way he’s pulling out.

Not when Sangwon feels like this. Tight, hot, and wet. He can literally feel Sangwon pulsing around him.

Sangwon gasps loudly, hips jerking upward instinctively, but Geonwoo’s hand tightens around his thigh to keep his legs spread wide. “W-what the fuck—mhm… what did you do… fuck!”

Geonwoo groans as Sangwon reacts to every slight movement.

Each tiny thrust pulls another helpless sound from him, and the expression on Sangwon’s flushed face only makes Geonwoo harder. 

Sangwon looks like he might cry again. “You s-said you wouldn’t put it in!” he whines, even while gripping his own thighs and keeping his legs open.

Geonwoo exhales sharply. “’M sorry,” he mutters breathlessly. “Not my fault you’re so fucking wet. It just slid in, o-okay?”

Before Sangwon can complain any longer, Geonwoo captures his lips in a sudden, firm kiss. It’s rough and claiming—his teeth grazing Sangwon’s lower lip before his tongue slips inside. The kiss steals the rest of Sangwon’s words, turning them into a muffled sound against Geonwoo’s mouth.

For a moment Sangwon only reacts on instinct. A soft moan escapes him into the kiss.

Geonwoo takes that quiet, helpless noise as permission to keep going, to press closer, to move again. 

Without breaking the rhythm between them, he begins moving again. Slow at first, letting the motion build while their mouths remain locked together. Sangwon’s breathing grows uneven against his lips as the sensation pulls another quiet sound from his throat.

When Geonwoo finally pulls away, Sangwon looks dazed, lips parted and flushed from the kiss.

Geonwoo’s attention shifts immediately back to the movement between them, focused and intent. “Baby, you’re so tight. Even after your toys and fingers.”

Sangwon, still hazy, can only gasp softly as sensation catches up with him. His hands search blindly for something to hold onto before settling on Geonwoo’s arms, fingers gripping tight.

“G-Geonwoo…” he breathes, voice unsteady. “Oh… gosh… you're s-so big..”

With Sangwon’s thighs trembling, Geonwoo suddenly pulls out. A filthy idea in mind.

He presses the tip of his cock against Sangwon’s clit again, the contact making Sangwon jolt beneath him. Geonwoo doesn’t hesitate this time. He begins rubbing faster, dragging the slick head back and forth in quick strokes. The sound between them grows immediately. It’s wet, messy, unmistakable as Sangwon’s slick spreads with every movement.

The pace builds quickly. Geonwoo’s hand keeps Sangwon’s thighs forced wide apart while his hips move with controlled urgency, rubbing again and again over the sensitive spot. Sangwon’s legs start shaking almost instantly, trembling so badly they threaten to close on their own.

If Geonwoo wasn’t holding them open, they would have snapped shut already.

“Oh my god,” Sangwon cries out, his voice cracking as the sensation climbs higher and higher.

Geonwoo glances down, watching the slick shine between Sangwon’s thighs, completely fascinated by the mess they’ve made. “Your pussy’s so slick,” he mutters, almost sounding impressed.

The words make Sangwon’s head spin—but then a sudden realization hits him. His breath stutters as the pressure builds too fast, his body tightening in warning. “Oh—fuck… n-no! Geonwoo, stop—”

His entire body locks up beneath him. Sangwon’s back arches and his thighs shake violently as the tension snaps, the release bursting out of him all at once.

Both of them moan at the same time as Sangwon squirts across the sheets beneath them, the liquid splashing against the already soaked fabric and adding to the mess they’ve created.

Geonwoo doesn’t slow down. Instead, he keeps rubbing through it, fascinated by the way Sangwon’s body trembles and jerks beneath him. Sangwon’s breathing turns ragged, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tries to recover, but Geonwoo already had made up his mind.

“G-Geonwoo, please!”

He can do it again.

And sure enough, barely twenty seconds later Sangwon’s body begins tightening all over again. The trembling returns, stronger this time, his fingers gripping the sheets as another gush spills out of him.

“Good job, baby,” Geonwoo murmurs, his voice low with satisfaction.

For a brief moment he pauses, leaning forward instead. His lips press gently against Sangwon’s forehead, a soft contrast to everything that just happened. With one hand he adjusts the glasses that had slipped crooked on Sangwon’s nose, carefully pushing them back into place.

Then he slides back down again. His cock drags slowly along Sangwon’s entrance once more, the movement deliberate now, almost teasing.

Sangwon looks completely wrecked beneath him. His hair’s all damp, chest heaving, glasses slightly fogged from his uneven breathing.

“You’re insane as fuck,” Sangwon manages weakly, his voice still shaky. “Only my toys could ever do that.”

Geonwoo doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he leans down and kisses him.

The kiss is surprisingly soft, almost gentle compared to the filthy chaos they’ve just made. His lips move slowly against Sangwon’s, unhurried, giving Sangwon a moment to breathe.

When Geonwoo finally pulls away, Sangwon follows instinctively, chasing the contact like he’s not ready for it to end. That small reaction makes Geonwoo chuckle. He presses another quick kiss to Sangwon’s mouth.

“Now,” he murmurs.

Another kiss.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,”

Another.

“You’re gonna have to throw those toys away, yeah?”

Sangwon’s gone by now. His eyes are hazy behind the glasses, his lips parted as he struggles to steady his breathing.

“Please,” he whispers, the word slipping out before he can even think about it. His eyes shine faintly, tears threatening at the corners.

Geonwoo doesn’t wait after that.

His hips suddenly drive forward, pushing deep in a single, firm thrust that buries him completely inside Sangwon.

The reaction is immediate. Sangwon gasps loudly, his body jolting at the sudden fullness.

Completely.

Geonwoo is finally and fully inside him. The full weight and girth of him stretching Sangwon in a way that makes his head spin. For a moment Sangwon can barely think. The only thing he can register is the overwhelming fullness and the way Geonwoo’s body presses over his, heavy and relentless.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, a ridiculous thought slips through his mind. Maybe the break up really was for the best. Because right now, Geonwoo is driving into him like he means to erase every other memory Sangwon has. Each thrust snaps forward with force, the rhythm rough and impatient, and before long Geonwoo starts hitting a particular spot inside him—again and again.

Every time it happens, Sangwon’s body reacts instantly. “R-right there—!” he cries, his voice breaking as his mouth falls open. “Mhhh—holy fuck…”

His hands scramble for something to hold onto, fingers gripping at Geonwoo’s arms as the thrusts continue. His whole body jolts with every hit to that sensitive spot, soft whining sounds slipping out of him before he can stop them.

Geonwoo notices the reaction immediately.

He shifts their position without warning, pulling Sangwon closer and pushing his legs higher. The movement folds Sangwon nearly in half, forcing his knees up toward his shoulders.

The sudden change makes Sangwon scream.

The angle is different now—deeper, sharper—and it lets Geonwoo drive straight into the places that make Sangwon’s entire body tense. His hips move harder, faster, the rhythm turning rougher as he finds that same spot again.

And again.

Sangwon’s body responds helplessly. His muscles tighten around Geonwoo with every thrust, the involuntary clenching making Geonwoo groan under his breath.

The sounds filling the room grow louder the longer it goes on. Sangwon’s breathless moans, the soft impacts of their bodies, the bed creaking against the wall, the strained noises Geonwoo keeps letting out every time Sangwon tightens around him.

For a second Geonwoo realizes something. He’s never made this much noise before. Not with anyone.

But Sangwon just feels too good.

“Fuck…” Geonwoo mutters under his breath, his voice rough as he keeps moving against him. His hands tighten around Sangwon’s thighs, holding him in place while he keeps thrusting into that same sensitive spot.

Then he looks down at him, breathing heavier now. “Baby,” he says, almost like it’s slipping out before he can stop it. “Promise me something.” Another thrust makes Sangwon whine loudly beneath him.

“Promise me you’ll let me fuck you again.”

Sangwon groans at that, his head falling back against the sheets as the words sink in through the haze. His brain is still foggy, his body still reacting helplessly to every movement. But even through all of that, he’s already considering it.

“I hate you so f-fucking—ah… much.”

“Hmm,” Geonwoo murmurs. “Me too, baby. Open your mouth.”

Sangwon obeys instantly despite his uneven breathing.

The man who caused his breakup is now fucking him harder than anyone ever has—and Sangwon is taking everything Geonwoo gives him like a good girl.

When Geonwoo tells him to open his mouth, Sangwon obeys without hesitation, chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. He sticks his tongue out just like he was told. Geonwoo spits, and Sangwon accepts it immediately, closing his mouth and swallowing. Afterward, he parts his lips again and tilts his chin up slightly, silently showing Geonwoo that he swallowed it all.

“Good girl.”

Later, Geonwoo’s breathing grows heavier.

“I’m near, baby. Can I—”

“No! O-outside… please… mhh…”

“You sure, princess?” Geonwoo teases. “You’d look so hot with your pussy dripping with my cum.”

Sangwon clenches tightly around him at the thought but still shakes his head weakly. Geonwoo groans.

“After I come inside you, I’ll eat you out to clean you up. You want that?”

Sangwon barely registers the words anymore.

Geonwoo tries again, fighting to hold back. “Baby, come on. I’m so fucking close.”

With Geonwoo’s thrust consistently hammering Sangwon’s insides, despite the sloppiness, Sangwon cums. Hard. His pussy clenching. The feeling is so good he goes out of it and gives in to Geonwoo’s request. “Mhh… o-okay… inside.. please! Pleasepleaseplease..”

Geonwoo groans loudly. “That’s my girl.”

His thrusts grow sloppy and desperate as he finally lets go, burying himself deep while he comes inside Sangwon.

Warmth fills him instantly.

“Fuckkk… ahh… thankyouthankyouthankyou… mhh.” See? Sangwon’s gone. Geonwoo fucked the life out of him, really.

Geonwoo collapses slightly over him, breathing hard. 

Sangwon feels completely full. Holy shit—did Geonwoo really come that much?

The warmth inside him is overwhelming, heavy in a way he’s never felt before. He can still feel the faint pulse of Geonwoo’s cock where it had been buried deep inside him moments ago, and the sensation makes his stomach tighten weakly.

Geonwoo, meanwhile, is still trying to catch his breath. His chest rises and falls slowly as the adrenaline fades, and after a moment he finally pushes himself upright. When his breathing steadies a little, he carefully pulls out of Sangwon.

The sight that follows almost makes him hard all over again.

A thick mixture of their release immediately begins to spill out, slowly oozing down from Sangwon’s flushed entrance and onto the already ruined sheets. It’s messy, but Geonwoo can’t look away.

“Damn… You're perfect.” He mutters under his breath, staring. “Can I take a photo of this?"

Sangwon barely has the energy left to react, but the words still make his head snap weakly to the side. With what little strength he has, he lifts his hand and gives Geonwoo’s arm a half-hearted slap.

The hit is weak, more exhausted than angry. Geonwoo just laughs.

His gaze drifts again, taking in the entire picture in front of him. Sangwon looks completely ruined. His body is littered with faint grip marks from where Geonwoo had held him down. His lips are swollen from biting and kissing, and tear stains have dried along his flushed cheeks. Even his glasses sit slightly crooked on his face.

And between his thighs, his sensitive pussy is still red and swollen from everything they just did.

Geonwoo exhales slowly. He really did it. He ruined Sangwon.

Sangwon suddenly shifts his hips a little, pulling Geonwoo out of his thoughts. The movement looks clumsy, like he’s gathering whatever energy he has left just to move. “You said you’d clean me up,” Sangwon mutters, voice weak but still demanding.

Geonwoo blinks, then grins. “Oh. Right.”

He slides down the bed immediately, positioning himself between Sangwon’s legs again with surprising enthusiasm.

“Tell me if it’s too sensitive, okay?” he says, glancing up. 

Sangwon nods faintly. That’s all the permission Geonwoo needs.

The moment his tongue touches him, Sangwon’s entire body jolts. “O—oh… fuck… your tongue—”

His thighs tremble instantly, nearly trapping Geonwoo’s head between them. Geonwoo doesn’t mind. If anything, he seems completely focused on the task.

He drags slow, deliberate strokes with his tongue, starting low before moving upward along the soft folds of Sangwon’s sensitive skin. Sometimes he pauses to give quick, teasing flicks with the tip of his tongue, and other times he presses longer, slower licks that make Sangwon’s hips twitch helplessly.

He’s definitely savoring it. Geonwoo hums quietly against him, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “You taste so good,” he murmurs.

Technically he’s tasting both of them—salty and warm—but there’s a sweetness there too, something that he’s sure comes from Sangwon.

Sangwon’s thighs shake again, his fingers weakly gripping the sheets.

After a few more careful passes of his tongue, Geonwoo finally lifts his head. “All done, baby,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Next time, I’ll do it properly. Or you can just sit on my face.” He gives Sangwon a playful wink before climbing back up beside him.

Sangwon is still breathing heavily, chest rising and falling slowly as he tries to calm down.

Geonwoo reaches out and gently strokes along his thighs, easing the tension out of his trembling muscles.

Then, carefully, he slides Sangwon’s glasses off his face. “Hey,” he murmurs softly. “Still with me?”

Sangwon looks completely hazy, like he’s hovering right on the edge of sleep. His eyelids flutter as he forces them open just enough to nod.

The small effort makes Geonwoo smile.

Without thinking too hard about it, he leans down and presses another kiss to Sangwon’s lips.

It’s slow and gentle, nothing like the frantic heat from earlier. Geonwoo keeps it soft, careful, knowing Sangwon is far too exhausted for anything deeper. Still, the kiss lingers, warm and unhurried.

His hand slides beneath Sangwon’s head to cradle it comfortably while his other hand rests against Sangwon’s cheek, thumb brushing softly across his skin.

It’s the kind of kiss people share when they care about each other. Looking at them now, no one would ever guess they supposedly hate each other. Or at least that Sangwon claims he hates him.

When Geonwoo finally pulls away, he brushes a stray strand of hair from Sangwon’s face. “Go to sleep, princess,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of you.”

Sangwon doesn’t argue. Within moments, he’s already drifting off.

Geonwoo carefully cleans him up with a warm, damp towel, working slowly so he doesn’t wake him. Once he’s done, he helps Sangwon into one of his own oversized shirts and pulls the lace panties back into place.

The sight makes something strange settle in Geonwoo’s chest. Sangwon looks so tiny wearing his clothes.

After a moment of consideration, Geonwoo decides the sheets can wait until morning. So, he gently lifts Sangwon into his arms and carries him across the room to the other bed.

He lays him down carefully, then climbs in beside him.

Before long, they’re both asleep—curled close together without even realizing it.

The morning comes slowly. Sunlight slips through the thin curtains of the apartment, spilling across the quiet space and creeping along the floor until it reaches the small kitchen.

In the kitchen, Sangwon is already there.

He moves sluggishly, still half-asleep, one hand braced against the counter as he opens the fridge with the other. Every movement looks careful, almost stiff, like his body is protesting even the smallest shift.

He squints into the fridge like it personally offended him. After a moment he grabs a carton of milk, but as he sets it down on the counter, his hand slips slightly and a bit of it splashes across the surface.

“Ugh—” he groans, a little too loudly, rubbing his face with his palm.

Across the apartment, Geonwoo hears it.

He’s already awake in the bedroom. After quickly washing up in the bathroom, he steps out just in time to hear Sangwon’s frustrated noise echo from the kitchen. A grin immediately spreads across his face.

He walks out to check on his roommate—and the sight that greets him makes the grin widen. Sangwon is still wearing Geonwoo’s oversized shirt from last night, the hem hanging low on his thighs. Underneath, there’s nothing but the same lace panties. His hair is messy, his glasses slightly crooked, and he looks like he hasn’t fully recovered from what happened hours ago.

Geonwoo leans casually against the doorway.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

Sangwon doesn’t even turn around when he says it, but the tone alone makes Geonwoo chuckle.

Still cranky. Good.

Geonwoo walks over without hesitation and slides his arms around Sangwon’s waist from behind, pulling him lightly against his chest. He rests his chin on Sangwon’s shoulder like he belongs there.

Sangwon groans in immediate annoyance.

“Morning,” Geonwoo murmurs in his deep, sleepy voice.

“I can’t move properly,” Sangwon complains flatly.

“Hm.”

“My entire body hurts. What the hell did you do to me?”

Geonwoo laughs softly against his shoulder, clearly not even trying to look guilty. Instead, he presses a small kiss to the side of Sangwon’s neck, breathing in the faint scent of shampoo and sleep.

“You’re gonna have to cook,” Sangwon continues, grumbling as he wipes the counter. “Or order—Geonwoo!” He squeaks in irritation when Geonwoo’s lips brush his neck again, the kisses tickling more than anything.

“You’re still a brat, huh,” Geonwoo teases. “Might have to fuck you out of that attitude too.”

Sangwon hisses under his breath and finally pushes him away. “Whatever,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes. “Please. I’m hungry.”

Then, before Geonwoo can respond, Sangwon leans in quickly and presses a small, casual peck to his lips.

Geonwoo freezes.

Sangwon just giggles at the stunned expression on his roommate’s face before turning and walking toward their bedroom.

“Hey—” Geonwoo finally blurts. Too late. Sangwon is already halfway down the hall, heading for the bathroom.

Geonwoo’s brain catches up about three seconds later.

“SO WE’RE KISSING LIKE BOYFRIENDS NOW?” he yells from the kitchen.

“NO!” Sangwon shouts back immediately.

“THEN WHAT WAS THAT?”

Sangwon lets out a loud, dramatic sigh from inside the hallway.

“YOU DUMBASS! TAKE ME OUT PROPERLY FIRST! AND STOP FUCKING OTHER PEOPLE!” A second later, the bathroom door slams shut.

For a moment, the apartment is quiet again. Then Geonwoo laughs. A slow, satisfied grin spreads across his face as he opens the fridge.

“Okay,” he murmurs to himself while searching for something to cook. “I will.”