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The HLE dorms felt different these days—quieter in the off-hours, heavier with the weight of new faces and fresh rivalries. Minhyeong had only been on the roster, the move from his previous team still fresh enough that every shared practice felt like recalibrating gravity. Geonwoo had been there longer, the steady mid-lane anchor who'd welcomed him with quiet nods and lingering looks during meetings.
No grand gestures at first. Just easy chemistry and the slow realization, when late-night VOD reviews turned into conversations that wandered far beyond strats: same dry humor, same obscure music tastes queued up during downtime, same preference for silence over small talk when the day had been long. They found comfort in the overlap—how Geonwoo’s calm steadiness balanced Minhyeong’s sharper edges, how Minhyeong’s quick wit pulled real laughs out of Geonwoo when no one else could. Shoulders brushing in the crowded rooms stopped feeling accidental, shared glances across the gyms carried the weight of unspoken understanding. It built slow, inevitable, like puzzle pieces slotting together without force.
Three months in, it finally spilled over.
They’d been alone in Geonwoo’s room after a rare early end to scrims, door locked more out of habit than intention. The kiss started hesitant—mouths catching at odd angles, hands unsure where to land—and when clothes came off it was all fumbling elbows, muffled laughs against skin, whispered apologies for every clumsy move. Neither of them lasted long; it was messy and earnest and over too fast, but afterward they stayed tangled under the blanket, breathing hard, trading soft disbelieving glances like they couldn’t quite believe they’d crossed that line.
After that first time, it happened whenever the schedule gave them a stolen pocket of privacy: a quick, heated round in the shower after morning practice when everyone else was still asleep; once on the couch in the empty dorm lounge at 4 a.m., Geonwoo’s hand clamped over Minhyeong’s mouth to keep the sounds from carrying; a slower, more deliberate night in Minhyeong’s bed during the off-week between game days, learning each other’s rhythms without the frantic edge of before. Not every day, not even every week—just enough to make every brush of fingers, every loaded look across the practice room, feel like foreplay.
The rest of the team stayed oblivious, or maybe just politely blind. Either way, the secret sat warm and heavy between them, another layer of gravity only they could feel.
Tonight their dorm was finally empty. Wooje and Jinhyeok had dragged Jaeha and the rest of the team out for a late-night convenience store run, something about craving ramyeon after a brutal scrim block. The door clicked shut behind them, and the dorm went still.
Minhyeong didn't wait. He found Geonwoo in the hallway outside the living room, still in his team hoodie, hair messy from running hands through it during review. Minhyeong stepped close, playful smirk already in place.
"They're gone for at least an hour or two," he said, voice low and teasing. "You gonna keep staring at me like that, or actually do something about it?"
Geonwoo's eyes darkened instantly. He didn't answer with words—just reached out, fingers curling around Minhyeong's wrist, firm but careful, and tugged him toward Minhyeong's room. The door shut with a soft click.
The second the lock engaged, the tension snapped like a stretched bowstring
Geonwoo backed Minhyeong against the wall first, hands framing his face, kissing him slow and deep like he'd been holding it in for weeks. Minhyeong melted into it immediately, playful edge softening into something sweeter and needier. He nipped at Geonwoo's lower lip, grinning when it earned a low growl.
"Tease," Geonwoo murmured against his mouth, voice rough and affectionate. His thumbs stroked along Minhyeong's jaw, possessive in the gentlest way. "Been driving me crazy all week. Smirking in between reps, brushing against me in the practice rooms... you know exactly what you're doing."
Minhyeong laughed softly, breathless. "Maybe I like seeing you lose it a little." He slid his hands under Geonwoo's hoodie, palms warm against skin. "Come on, Geonwoo. Show me how much you've been starving."
That did it.
Geonwoo lifted him like it was nothing, hands under thighs—and carried him to the bed. Minhyeong wrapped legs around his waist, still grinning, but the grin faltered into a soft gasp when Geonwoo pressed him down and kissed along his neck, careful not to leave marks too high.
Clothes came off slower this time. Geonwoo peeled Minhyeong's shirt away like unwrapping something precious, mouthing praise into every inch of skin revealed. "So pretty," he breathed, eyes hungry but tender. Minhyeong arched under the attention, cheeks flushing, but he still managed to hook a leg around Geonwoo's hip and pull him closer.
"You're so serious sometimes," Minhyeong teased, fingers in Geonwoo's hair. "Like you think I'll disappear if you don't hold on tight enough."
Geonwoo paused, forehead resting against Minhyeong's collarbone. "Feels like I waited forever for this," he admitted quietly. "For you here. With us. With me."
Minhyeong's teasing softened. He tugged Geonwoo up for another kiss—slower and sweeter. "I'm here," he whispered. "Not going anywhere."
Geonwoo stripped them both fully, then settled between Minhyeong's spread thighs. He kissed down his chest, slow drags of tongue over nipples until Minhyeong squirmed and whined. Lower still—belly, hips—until he was nuzzling the base of Minhyeong's cock, already hard and leaking against his stomach.
"Geonwoo," Minhyeong's voice cracked, half-laugh, half-plea. "You don't have to—"
"Want to," Geonwoo cut in, voice low, possessive. He wrapped a hand around the base, gave one slow stroke, then took Minhyeong into his mouth, hot and wet.
Minhyeong's head thumped back against the pillow, a broken moan spilling out. Geonwoo's tongue swirled around the head, teasing the slit, then he sank deeper, hollowing his cheeks, sucking hard. One hand pinned Minhyeong's hip down when he tried to thrust up; the other stroked what his mouth couldn't reach. Messy spit slicked down the shaft, dripping onto Minhyeong's balls. Geonwoo groaned around him, the vibration making Minhyeong's thighs shake.
"Fuck, Geonwoo… your mouth," Minhyeong babbled, fingers twisting in the sheets, then in Geonwoo's hair. "So good—too good—"
Geonwoo pulled off just long enough to murmur, "Cum for me. Want to taste you first." Then he dove back in, faster, sloppier—head bobbing and throat relaxing to take him deeper. Minhyeong's hips jerked, helpless, and Geonwoo let him chase it, humming encouragement.
It didn't take long. Minhyeong's back arched, a choked cry ripping out as he came hard down Geonwoo's throat—hot pulses that Geonwoo swallowed greedily, milking every drop until Minhyeong was trembling, pushing weakly at his head.
Geonwoo pulled off Minhyeong’s cock with a final, slow suck—lips dragging up the shaft one last time, tongue flicking the sensitive head until Minhyeong hissed and twitched—then crawled back up to kiss him again. Deep and filthy, letting Minhyeong taste the salt of his own cum still lingering on Geonwoo’s tongue. Minhyeong moaned into it, lazy and wrecked, one hand cupping Geonwoo’s jaw like he never wanted to let go.
"Good boy," Geonwoo whispered. "First one down."
Minhyeong laughed shakily, flushed and dazed. "You're evil."
Geonwoo just smirked, reaching for the lube in the drawer—Minhyeong's, because of course he'd come prepared. It’s half-empty already, and flicked the cap open with his thumb. The click sounded obscenely loud in the quiet dorm room. He pushed Minhyeong's thighs, knees hooked over his shoulders for better access.
He shifted down, settling between Minhyeong’s thighs again. Pushed them wider with gentle but insistent hands until Minhyeong’s knees hooked over the crooks of Geonwoo’s elbows, hips tilted up, completely exposed. Minhyeong’s cock—still flushed and slick from the blowjob—twitched against his stomach, already trying to harden again despite the recent orgasm.
Geonwoo poured lube straight onto his fingers, letting it drip cold and thick over his knuckles before warming it between them. He watched Minhyeong’s face the whole time—eyes locked, drinking in every flicker of anticipation, every tiny hitch in breath.
“Relax for me, baby,” Geonwoo murmured, voice low and rough around the edges. One slick finger circled Minhyeong’s rim—slow, teasing pressure, not pushing in yet—just tracing the tight muscle until Minhyeong squirmed and let out a soft, impatient whine.
“Teasing now?” Minhyeong tried to sound cocky, but it came out breathy. “Thought you were the one starving.”
Geonwoo’s free hand pressed flat on Minhyeong’s lower stomach, thumb stroking the sensitive skin just above his cock, grounding and possessive. “I am. That’s why I’m taking my time. Wanna feel every inch of you open up for me.”
He pressed the first finger in then, slow and steady, knuckle-deep on the first push. Minhyeong’s breath caught, back arching slightly off the mattress. Geonwoo paused when he felt the instinctive clench, waited until Minhyeong exhaled and relaxed around him, then started a gentle in-and-out rhythm. Crooking just enough to brush the front wall, searching.
Minhyeong’s head tipped back, throat working on a swallowed moan. “There, fuck, right there”
Geonwoo found it. The spot that made Minhyeong’s thighs jerk and his toes curl. He pressed against it deliberately—firm circles, slow drags—watching Minhyeong’s cock twitch and leak a fresh bead of precum onto his stomach.
“Good?” Geonwoo asked, even though he already knew. His voice was wrecked, affectionate, like he was asking if Minhyeong was still with him.
“So good,” Minhyeong gasped, one hand flying down to grip Geonwoo’s wrist, not to stop him, just to hold on. “More… please”
Geonwoo added the second finger on the next thrust in, slick, easy slide thanks to the lube and the way Minhyeong was already softening for him. He scissored gently at first, stretching, then faster—rougher—curling both fingers hard against that spot on every pass. Wet, filthy squelching filled the room, lube dripping down Minhyeong’s crack, soaking the sheets beneath his ass. Geonwoo didn’t let up, kept the angle brutal, pace steady, free hand pinning Minhyeong’s hip when he tried to rock up into it too fast.
Minhyeong was babbling now, half-words, broken moans. “Geonwoo, fuck—too much—don’t, gonna—”
Geonwoo leaned down, chest brushing Minhyeong’s, mouth at his ear. “You’re dripping already. Look at you, so fucking wet for me. Can feel you clenching every time I hit it.” He added the third finger without warning, a thick stretch that made Minhyeong’s eyes snap wide, a sharp, sweet cry punching out of him.
“Shit—Geonwoo—!”
“Shh, I’ve got you.” Geonwoo kissed the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, tasting salt from the tears already gathering at Minhyeong’s lashes. “Breathe. Let me in.”
Minhyeong did, body opening up around the three fingers, thighs trembling violently. Geonwoo fucked him with them now, deep, punishing thrusts, knuckles dragging against that spot on every withdrawal and slam back in. Lube everywhere, running down Minhyeong’s thighs, pooling under him, making obscene slick sounds with every movement. Minhyeong’s cock was fully hard again, flushed dark, leaking steadily onto his stomach, untouched.
“Close—close—fuck—” Minhyeong’s voice cracked, high and desperate. His free hand clawed at Geonwoo’s shoulder, nails biting skin. “Gonna come—gonna come on your fingers—please”
“Come,” Geonwoo growled against his neck, teeth grazing. “Want to feel you fall apart before I fuck you open on my cock. Let go, Minhyeongie. Give it to me.”
He crooked all three fingers hard—relentless pressure right on prostate—and Minhyeong broke.
His whole body seized, back bowing off the bed, thighs clamping around Geonwoo’s arm. A raw, shattered sob ripping out as he came. Weaker spurts this time, painting white streaks across his stomach and chest, but the clench around Geonwoo’s fingers was brutal, rhythmic, milking, fluttering helplessly. Minhyeong shook through it, tears slipping free, mouth open in a silent scream that eventually cracked into whimpers.
Geonwoo worked him through every aftershock, slowing but not stopping, gentle drags now, letting Minhyeong ride the overstimulation until he was a trembling, boneless mess.
When Minhyeong finally went limp, panting, Geonwoo eased his fingers out carefully. Watching the way Minhyeong’s hole stayed open for a second, slick and flushed, before clenching weakly. He groaned low in his throat at the sight.
“Perfect,” he rasped, leaning down to kiss Minhyeong slow and deep again. “So perfect for me.”
Minhyeong laughed weakly, wrecked and euphoric, reaching up to cup Geonwoo’s face. “You’re gonna kill me before you even fuck me.”
Geonwoo smirked, already slicking his own cock with more lube. “Not yet. Got plans for you first.”
"Geonwoo—please," Minhyeong finally begged, voice cracking sweetly. "Need you."
Geonwoo didn't give him time to recover.
The fingers were barely out—Minhyeong's hole still fluttering, slick and open—when Geonwoo shifted up, knees spreading Minhyeong's thighs wider. He slicked his cock with one more generous pour of lube, stroking himself once, twice, eyes locked on where Minhyeong's rim glistened, flushed dark and puffy from the fingering. Minhyeong watched him through heavy lashes, chest heaving, a dazed little smile playing on his lips even as tears still clung to his lower lids.
Geonwoo lined up, blunt head nudging against that slick, softened entrance. He didn't tease this time, just pressed forward in one slow, inexorable push. Minhyeong's breath hitched sharp and high at the stretch—thicker than fingers, hotter, fuller—his body instinctively tightening before it gave way. Geonwoo groaned low in his throat as the head popped past the rim, then kept going, inch by thick inch, until his hips met Minhyeong's ass with a wet smack.
Minhyeong's nails dug hard into Geonwoo's back—sharp crescents that would leave angry red lines for days—legs snapping up to wrap tight around his waist, heels digging into the small of Geonwoo's back like he was trying to pull him even deeper. A long, broken whine spilled from his throat.
"Geonwoo, so full—"
Geonwoo stilled for a heartbeat, forehead dropping to Minhyeong's shoulder, breathing ragged against his neck. "You feel that?" he rasped, voice wrecked. "All of me. Inside you. Finally."
Minhyeong nodded frantically, hips twitching, trying to rock even though Geonwoo had him pinned. "Yeah, yeah, move—please"
They moved together like they'd practiced this too, easy rhythm at first, Geonwoo pulling out halfway, then sliding back in deep and steady, possessive grip on Minhyeong's hips to control the pace. Every thrust dragged a wet, filthy sound from where they were joined; lube squelched obscenely, dripping down Minhyeong's crack, soaking the sheets already ruined from earlier. Geonwoo's cock dragged against every sensitive inch inside him, heavy and unrelenting.
Minhyeong couldn't stay quiet. Soft moans turned into breathy gasps, then into filthy little encouragement whispered right against Geonwoo's ear.
"Harder, Geonwoo. Fuck me like you mean it, like you've been dying to like the first time, when I just joined the team—"
Geonwoo's control frayed with every word. His thrusts picked up—deeper, sharper—until the bedframe was knocking against the wall in steady, rhythmic thuds. Minhyeong clenched deliberately around him on the next pull-out, tight and mean, and Geonwoo choked on a groan.
"Brat," he growled, but there was no heat in it—just raw, possessive hunger. "Keep that up and I won't last."
"Good," Minhyeong panted, smirking through the haze. "Want you to lose it. Want you to fuck me stupid."
That snapped something.
Geonwoo pulled out abruptly—Minhyeong whining at the emptiness—then flipped him onto his stomach in one smooth, strong motion. He yanked a pillow from the head of the bed, shoved it under Minhyeong's hips to arch his ass up, then slammed back in without warning. The new angle hit Minhyeong's prostate dead-on and he cried out, loud and cracked, face burying into the sheets.
Skin slapped wetly against skin, loud and obscene. The bed creaked violently under them, springs protesting every punishing thrust. Lube foamed at the base of Geonwoo's cock, smearing white and slick across Minhyeong's ass, dripping down his thighs in sticky trails. Sweat poured off both of them, Geonwoo's chest slick against Minhyeong's back, hair dripping onto Minhyeong's neck. Precum leaked steadily from Minhyeong's untouched cock, smearing against the pillow beneath him, mixing with everything else.
Geonwoo pinned Minhyeong's wrists above his head with one big hand, fingers interlacing tight, holding him down. The other hand gripped Minhyeong's hip hard—bruising fingerprints already blooming under the skin—using it as leverage to yank him back onto every thrust.
"Take it," Geonwoo rasped against his ear, voice gravel-rough. "Take every inch. You're mine, my pretty bot laner, my everything, gonna fuck you so deep you feel me for days—"
Minhyeong was gone. Babbling incoherently—half-sobs, half-moans—pushing back into every brutal snap of hips despite the overstimulation. His cock dragged uselessly against the pillow, hypersensitive, leaking constantly. The pressure built again, fast and merciless.
He came a third time like this, completely untouched.
Thighs shaking so violently Geonwoo had to shove his own knees wider, pinning Minhyeong open, keeping him spread and helpless. The orgasm ripped through him like static; whole body locking up, back bowing, a raw, shattered scream muffled into the sheets. He spurted weakly against the pillow—pitiful, clear pulses—then went boneless for maybe ten seconds, brain wiped clean, trembling.
Geonwoo didn't stop. Just kept pounding through it—harder if anything—drawing out every aftershock until Minhyeong was twitching, gasping, clawing at the sheets.
When Minhyeong finally sucked in a ragged breath, Geonwoo groaned, hips stuttering for the first time.
"Minhyeongie… you're killing me." His voice cracked on the words. "Coming untouched, squeezing me so tight—god—"
Minhyeong laughed weakly, completely wrecked, voice splintered and high. "Good. Keep going. Ruin me, don't stop—want you to fuck me until I can't think—until I'm just yours—"
Now it’s too much and exactly enough at the same time.
The room smells like sex and salt now—sweat, lube, the faint metallic edge of Minhyeong’s bitten lip. The mattress has long since given up trying to stay quiet; every thrust shoves another creak out of the frame, rhythmic, obscene.
Minhyeong’s face is half-buried in the sheets, black hair plastered to his forehead and neck. His mouth stays open even when he’s not speaking, just panting, wet little gasps that get higher and shakier the longer Geonwoo keeps going.
“Geon—Geonwoo—” The words spill out muffled, slurred into the cotton, barely intelligible. Every moan is punched out of him on the next thrust, breathy and cracked. His voice keeps climbing, thin and desperate, until it’s almost a whine.
"You're so good for me," Geonwoo rasps, leaning down to kiss the tears tracking down Minhyeong's cheek. "Taking it so well. My pretty."
Minhyeong sobs a laugh. "Cheesy—ah, fuck, harder—"
Geonwoo’s chest seals to Minhyeong’s back, heavy, unyielding. Full weight pressing him deeper into the mattress. Every inhale Minhyeong manages is squeezed smaller by the pressure on his ribs. It makes the sobs come out even more broken.
“Fuck,” Geonwoo breathes against the shell of Minhyeong’s ear, voice rough. “You’re still so tight. Still sucking me in like you never want me to leave.”
Minhyeong makes a wrecked sound and tries to arch, but there’s nowhere to go. Geonwoo’s hips snap forward again, deep, mean, and something inside flutters weakly. His cock—spent, hypersensitive—twitches uselessly against his stomach, leaking pitifully.
"Love how you fall apart for me," Geonwoo murmurs, one hand sliding up to lace fingers with Minhyeong's. "Only for me. Gonna mark you inside and out."
And then Minhyeong feels it. The first hot spill isn’t cum.
It’s lower, sudden, and uncontrollable. A short, shameful burst of warmth spreads under him, soaking into the sheets. He freezes, mortified, then another smaller pulse escapes before he can clench.
Geonwoo feels the hitch, and his rhythm stutters.
“Did you just—?” Geonwoo's voice drops, dark and pleased. He grinds deeper, slow and deliberate, making Minhyeong feel every wet inch and the mess he's making.
Minhyeong’s face burns as fresh tears spill.
“S-sorry, sorry—” he chokes, voice splintering. “Couldn’t—hold—”
Geonwoo kisses his shoulder blade, teeth grazing gently. “Don’t apologize. Fuck, I love it. Love that I can make you lose control like that.”
He presses down harder, short punishing strokes right against that spot. Minhyeong jerks, babbling.
“Don’tstopdon’tstop—”
"Never," Geonwoo's rhythm faltered—short, desperate snaps now—forehead dropping to the back of Minhyeong's neck, breathing harsh. "Gonna… gonna fill you up. Mark you inside, make sure you leak me all through morning practice—"
Another weak spurt—Minhyeong sobs harder, blissful and humiliated.
Geonwoo groans, hips stuttering. “God, Minhyeong. You’re gonna make me—”
Minhyeong whimpered, clenching hard around him. "Yes, please—don't stop, come in me, breed me—Geonwoo—"
One last brutal thrust—burying to the hilt, grinding deep—and Geonwoo came with a low, guttural groan. Hot pulses flooded inside, thick and endless; Minhyeong could feel every twitch, every spurt, body clenching instinctively to milk him dry. Geonwoo kept grinding through it, hips rolling slow and filthy, pushing his cum deeper until it started to leak out around his cock, mixing with the lube and sweat in a sticky mess between them.
They stay locked together a long minute.
Minhyeong’s still trembling, sniffling, leaking from both ends—cum, lube, and piss and sweat soaking the sheets. Geonwoo doesn't pull out yet—just breathes against his nape, arms wrapping around him protectively.
Eventually he mouths a lazy kiss behind Minhyeong’s ear.
“Still crying?” Soft and fond.
Minhyeong nods, tiny and euphoric.
“Good,” Geonwoo murmurs, kissing the tears away. “Means I did it right.”
He eases out slowly, careful. Cum trickles out in thick globs; Minhyeong whines in embarrassment, trying to curl up. Geonwoo won't let him—rolls him gently onto his back, grabs a clean towel from the bathroom, wipes him down with careful strokes. Stomach, thighs, between his legs—gentle even when Minhyeong hisses at the oversensitivity, cleaning the mess between his cheeks too.
"You're okay," Geonwoo soothes, kissing his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. "I've got you. Always."
He fetches water, makes Minhyeong drink half the bottle in slow sips, then takes some himself. Changes the sheets—bundling the ruined ones for laundry later—then pulls a fresh blanket over them. Minhyeong curls into his chest immediately, face tucked against Geonwoo's neck, legs tangled.
"Was I too much?" Geonwoo asks quietly after a while, fingers carding through damp hair.
Minhyeong shakes his head, smiling sleepily. "Perfect. You're always perfect when you're like this… possessive and soft at the same time." He nuzzles closer. "Love it when you can't hold back. Love being yours."
Geonwoo exhales, relieved, pulls him tighter. "Good. Because I don't plan on holding back. Not with you."
Minhyeong hums, already drifting. "Promise?"
"Promise."
They fall asleep tangled like that; door locked, dorm quiet, the team none the wiser. Tomorrow they'll scrim like nothing happened, trade secret smiles across the table, wait for the next empty night.
But tonight, it's just them.