Archive of Our Own

The room was illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp on the table where Pok was sitting in his sweatpants and an oversized pink T-shirt with an already faded teddy bear print on it. His bangs kept falling into his eyes, making him hum and sigh every now and then because he couldn’t properly see his notes.

His books lay open across the wooden surface. Some loose pages with handwriting were left in the corner of the table, and a highlighter without a cap hung dangerously close to the edge next to his notebook.

The laptop sat in front of him with a blinking cursor, an assignment already opened but not submitted yet.

Pok looked so cute. Adorable, even — his lips slightly parted, his hair catching the orange light of the lamp and glowing softly in the faint darkness of the room.

Jeng was standing in front of the mirror, trying to fix the color of his shirt.

Trying to. Unsuccessfully.

Because if someone were to ask Jeng, Pok was probably too charming to be real. It was almost impossible to stop watching him — the curve of his neck, the line of his profile, the chestnut strands of hair clinging lightly to the skin at the back of his neck.

Beautiful.

So beautiful that Jeng wanted to keep looking at him forever.

And that was exactly the problem.

Because Jeng didn’t like Pok. He was just his roommate. A friend. And Jeng didn’t even like men. And now he was getting ready for a date with Tia — a girl from the university who had asked for his Instagram a while ago.

Jeng glanced at himself in the reflection. His hair was styled perfectly — just enough to look cool and messy enough to seem effortless. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his slim brown trousers hugged his legs, making him look even taller than he already was.

Brushing his hair back with his fingers, Jeng caught Pok’s reflection in the mirror — sitting at the desk, facing the wall in the corner of the room.

Pok always looked like that.

Relaxed.

But also small, as if he was trying not to take up too much space in the world.

"Pok," Jeng said, his voice softer than he had intended.

Pok just had this ability to make him — make everyone — melt. Jeng had never been one for sweet words or soft tones, not even with his dozens of ex-girlfriends. But Pok was just like that, as if talking to him somehow required being more gentle.

Not intimate. Because why would Jeng want to be intimate with Pok?

Pok was just a person who had happened to volunteer to split the rent and live together. Pok was just the guy who slept on the bed next to Jeng’s. Pok was just the person who cooked them dinner on weekends. Nothing more than the man Jeng went to the cinema with or grabbed food with every Friday.

"Hmmm?" Pok’s voice was little more than a quiet purr, soft and warm, almost like a sleepy kitten.

Not that Pok was childish or anything like that. He was just sweet. Like a child.

But better. As a friend. Obviously.

"I’ll be back after eleven," Jeng said, turning around and finally looking at Pok directly. "I’ll bring you some desserts from the place Tia and I are going to. You can eat them for breakfast tomorrow."

Pok nodded, but his fingers tightened slightly around the highlighter. 

"Have fun with Tia, P’Jeng," Pok smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

After all, Jeng was nothing more than the person who bought Pok treats whenever he went out without him. Just his roommate for whom he waited to come back every night — even when Pok had early classes in the morning, even when Jeng told him to go to bed.

"Close the door after me, please," Jeng murmured as he stepped closer and gently patted Pok on the shoulder.

Very friendly. Very brotherly.

The door closed with a soft click, and Pok stood up to lock it, absentmindedly spinning a pen between his fingers.

The room smelled faintly of fresh air and the sharper scent of Jeng’s perfume — something reminiscent of walnut and hints of cinnamon — still lingered in the air.

Pok stood in the middle of the room for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, his eyes drifting over the black T-shirt Jeng had carelessly thrown onto the bed, the lip balm he had left open on the shelf, and the mug of tea that had already gone cold.

Maybe there would be a day when Pok wouldn’t feel anxiety boiling in his blood every time Jeng went on a date.

Not just on a date.

But on a date with a girl. 

And that was what made it worse — what made it settle heavy in his chest, what made it linger long after the night was over. Because it didn’t just mean that Pok wasn’t chosen.

It meant he had never even been an option to begin with.

Not a second choice. Not a third.

He wasn’t a possibility at all. 

The place was small and not too fancy — the lights flickered softly above the bar, and small tables for two or three people stood on the glossy tiled floor.

Jeng entered the restaurant with his steps a little unsure. Not shy exactly, but lacking a certain confidence, as if he wasn’t quite sure he was supposed to be here, surrounded by the quiet murmur of customers and the faint aroma of wine and something grilled.

Tia noticed him from across the room and stood up to greet him near the entrance.

She looked good. Well-groomed, beautiful, neat.

If anything, she looked stunning. A dark blue dress hugged her slim waist and the gentle curve of her hips and thighs. Her hair was curled softly at the ends, and her makeup shimmered faintly, as if tiny stars had been placed in the corners of her eyes.

"Hi," Jeng smiled softly at her. "You look amazing."

The air shifted slightly as he was met with the beautiful smile of the woman in front of him. Maybe he wasn’t that unlucky after all.

"Thank you," Tia replied, her voice lower than Jeng’s, sounding somewhat dry.

They sat down at the table facing each other, and Tia kept observing Jeng for a while — at least until the waiter approached to take their order.

Their choices were simple: calamari rings and a green salad to share, steak with fries for Jeng, and chicken pasta for Tia.

The music in the restaurant was pleasant — not too loud, just enough to add atmosphere to the place.

They talked about different things. Tia asked the questions. Jeng answered.

Awkwardly.

"So you live with a roommate?" Tia asked, raising her eyebrow slightly.

"Yeah," Jeng nodded, chewing some appetizer. 

"That must be… inconvenient," she said, taking a sip of wine. "I could never live like that."

Jeng paused for a moment and looked at her, tilting his head slightly like a curious puppy.

"Why?” he asked.

Tia didn’t seem to notice the way Jeng was tapping his foot against the floor now, looking a little confused — and maybe even uncomfortable.

"I don’t know," she said carelessly. "If I lived with a girl, that would be weird. I mean, I don’t have anything against that kind of thing, but I wouldn’t want people to think of me that way."

Jeng almost choked on his drink.

Not only had she said something unpleasant about Pok — well, maybe not exactly about Pok, but still — now she was also implying something about queer people.

The comment left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Do you cook?" Tia asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

"Well…" Jeng murmured, cracking his fingers. "Pok usually cooks for both of us. But I can make spaghetti and fried rice."

Tia laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her palm.

"What’s so funny?" Jeng asked.

"Well, I don’t know," she said lightly. "It’s just that Pot…" 

"His name is Pok," Jeng interrupted.

"Yes, Pok," she shrugged. "He waits for you, cooks for you, shares an apartment with you."

She giggled softly. "Sounds more like a wife."

No way. 

Jeng looked at her from beneath his long lashes, trying to decide whether he had understood her correctly — whether Tia had really just said what he thought she had.

He didn’t like the way she talked about Pok.

Not because it had been especially harsh or openly rude. But because it was about Pok.

And no one got to say things like that about Pok.

Because Pok was sunshine. Pok was his best friend. Pok was the person who waited for Jeng to come back home.

Jeng raised his hand slightly to catch the attention of one of the staff members and offered him a polite smile.

“Could we get the bill, please?”

For some reason, the only place he wanted to be was home.

Pok had been studying nonstop since Jeng had left, but at a certain point, he realized his thoughts weren't present. He chewed on his pen, his mind racing with thoughts of how Jeng was doing on his date.

Life really wasn't fair. While he was killing himself reviewing his notes, there was a stranger enjoying herself that night with the man of his dreams. The man of his dreams, who wouldn't even touch Pok even if he were crazy.

It wasn't that he hated that girl for it; Pok knew it wasn't fair. It wasn't even about her; it was about his own feelings. 

Had he really had so little self-control that he couldn't stop himself from falling for his roommate? If only Pok had a small chance, he wouldn't be so angry with himself, but falling for a straight guy? It was frustrating. He'd let himself sink so low.

One chance... Pok would have been so adorable on that date. He would have made sure Jeng felt comfortable, going wherever Jeng wanted to go. He would have reminded him how handsome he looked that night, even though he always looked fabulous.

And, at the end of the night, only if Jeng wanted it, he would have gently leaned in to kiss his lips. He would let Jeng set the pace however he liked. For Pok, anything would be fine, as long as it was him he was kissing.

Jeng would have taken him by the waist to pull him closer, their mouths becoming more intense, their bodies pressed together.

Pok's breathing quickened, his thoughts shifting from how much he wanted to kiss Jeng to something much more... intense.

Suddenly, the very real image of Jeng stepping out of the shower that very day flooded his mind. Jeng was so nonchalant, not caring about stepping out in just a towel, water droplets still trickling down his body. Those damned little drops, falling from his hair, running down his neck, caressing his back, his chest, his stomach, until they disappeared into…

Pok clenched his fists, now completely flushed, his body reacting to that image, his heart racing. Pok felt dirty; he wasn't supposed to think like that about his roommate, it was totally out of pocket. Surely, if Jeng knew about it, he'd look at him with disgust.

But no matter how much he wanted to suppress them, every time he tried to push those thoughts out of his mind, they only returned with greater intensity.

He had to calm down. Jeng wasn't there; he wasn't going to find out.

A moment of silence. Jeng wasn't there.

Pok remained still for a moment. Perhaps there was a way to lessen the heat he was feeling, but it was so embarrassing. Was it even okay to think about it? Somehow, Pok felt a little guilty, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop feeling the heat below his belly. He wanted to feel worse than he already did, because his body was begging for some release.

Maybe he should just not overthink it and act. He was in private, it wasn't a bad thing, he could just avoid thinking about Jeng... He stood up and paced for at least a minute. No, his uncomfortable erection definitely wasn't going away.

When did Jeng say he was coming back? There were still several hours to go. He had to do it now or never, finish, go to sleep, and hope that the next day he'd have the courage to look Jeng in the eye.

Resigned, he grabbed a towel and some toilet paper from the bathroom. As he sat on the bed, he felt a tingle all over his body. Pok didn't usually do things like that; maybe it was a little stupid, but even in his solitude, it was something that embarrassed him. It wasn't that he'd never done it before —he was an adult now, god— but it was the kind of thing that, even though everyone else saw it as normal, still made him feel ashamed.

That's why he hesitated before pulling down his pants, leaving them folded along with his boxers right beside him. He looked at himself, his body completely hard. 

The moment he placed his fingers on himself, he looked away. It was so difficult, it was truly illogical that he was so ashamed to do that to himself, yet at the same time he was dying to do it to Jeng.

He needed it like air. Like water. He wanted to touch Jeng like a starving man wanted to eat, like a drowning man needed to reach the surface. 

His cheeks were burning, his whole body was shaking. Pok felt his fingertips trembling in the edge of the beige towel. 

He didn't want to start with that image, but it was hard not to — Pok’s head was filled with fantasies. 

What if Jeng was right in front of him? Fresh out of the shower, looking directly at Pok. But instead of being disgusted, what if he placed a finger just under his towel, until he forced it to the floor and exposed his body completely to Pok?

To help Pok, of course, Jeng had always been so considerate. And he would help him even more if he took his own cock in his hands and...

A moan escaped Pok's lips.

He couldn't believe he was actually doing this to himself, but he was enjoying it so much. Would touching Jeng feel the same? All his thoughts were too intense. The real images, the fantasy, the shame but also the excitement. The mixture of everything made Pok feel intoxicated. He could hardly breathe; he had never felt such desire for someone real, someone so close.

What if Jeng said something to him? About how cute he looked like that? What if he offered to help him? Replacing Pok's hand with his own... Or maybe with his mouth...

Pok quickened the pace of his hand; it was too much.

"Oh god, Jeng," the words escaped his lips before he could control them.

Pok was lost in his desire, in his longing, in how good he was feeling. 

The tightness in his lower abdomen was almost physically painful. He moved his hand up and down like there was no tomorrow, as though it was his last chance to feel his yearning, as if he needed to chase the release now, before he lost his mind.

“So good,” he whispered almost accidentally, bringing his hand to his lips, trying to suppress the sounds that kept escaping him and bouncing off the walls.

The room still smelled faintly of the remnants of Jeng’s scent and glowed softly in the moonlight spilling through the window. The quiet rhythm of Pok’s uneven breathing made his ears tingle, and the sound of his own muffled groans rang through the thick walls.

So good. Better than anything he had ever tried.

But not as good as it would have been if it were Jeng touching him. Kissing him. Marking him.

If only Jeng could make Pok his — show him that he wanted him just as much as Pok wanted him.

Pok was in daze. The constant feeling of the peak approaching and the sound of his own breathing made his head spin. 

His hand was burning, his skin felt like bleeding. He was hot, so hot he felt the warmth in every part of his body. 

His hand moved quicklier as he arched his back and spread his legs a bit further on the bed. 

He was distracted. 

Too distracted to notice the faint click of the door. 

Too distracted to hear the quiet steps crossing the room. 

Too distracted to notice that his roommate had already opened the bedroom door and was now standing barely a meter away from him — watching.

Jeng felt his stomach tighten at the sight of him. 

Pok lay on the bed, legs spread wide, his hand on his cock, stroking it with a desire Jeng never saw in the other’s before. His thumb circled the tip, spreading the moisture across his fully hardened member, the veins bulging, showing just how erect it was.

If Jeng had ever thought that Pok couldn’t become more beautiful than he already was, now he understood he had been wrong. Pok’s hair was mussed and messy from the constant writhing, the bedsheets tangled around his legs, and his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

Jeng froze in the doorway.

For a moment he couldn’t even breathe. His hand was still resting on the door handle, but he had forgotten how to move it. Forgotten how to step forward. Forgotten how to leave.

Because Pok looked stunning.

And Jeng suddenly understood, with a sharp clarity that made his chest tighten, that he had absolutely no right to be looking at him like this — and yet he couldn’t look away.

When Pok finally lifted his gaze and looked at the man in front of him, his ears red from the heat burning under his skin, he suddenly felt exposed. Naked.

Not in the literal sense of having no clothes on — that part was obvious — but in a deeper way. Seen.

He had always wanted Jeng to see him. To look at him. To touch him.

But now he felt worse than he ever had. The blood rushed through his veins and his heart pounded as if he had just run a marathon, as though it was trying to break free from his chest.

Jeng was here. Watching as Pok pleased himself.

And he didn’t do anything.

He could have turned away. He could have shouted. If not, he could have stepped closer and done whatever he wanted to do to Pok.

But he just stood there in the doorway, his fingers tightening slowly around the handle until his knuckles turned white.

For a moment neither of them moved.

Pok blinked. Then the realization hit him all at once.

"Oh!"

The sound escaped him before he could stop it. Heat rushed to his face, spreading down his neck and chest as embarrassment crashed over him like a wave.

He scrambled for the bedsheet, nearly tangling himself in it as he pulled it around his waist.

"Jeng…" But the words died somewhere in his throat.

Before Jeng could say anything, Pok jumped off the bed and hurried past him, his bare feet hitting the floor in quick, uneven steps.

The bathroom door slammed shut a second later.

For a second Jeng just stood there, thinking about how Pok had looked a few moments earlier. How his mouth had been slightly open as he panted for breath. How he had pressed his fingers against his sensitive spot, and how every slow movement had made Pok arch his back.

Then the faint sound of humming brought him back to his senses. Pok was making quiet noises now — somewhere between sighs of despair and embarrassed whimpers.

Jeng slipped off his shoes and hung his bag on the hook by the door before walking closer and stopping beside the bathroom.

He tried to listen to what was happening on the other side: the soft gurgle of the sink, the faint hum of the water running through the pipes, and Pok’s quiet sighs and muffled sobs.

"Pok?" he said softly, knocking on the door twice. "Hey… it’s okay."

Pok was sitting with his back pressed against the bathroom door. He felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Jeng had seen everything, and now Pok couldn’t face him.

Not when Jeng could probably guess everything Pok felt. Not when Pok might have ruined the friendship they had maintained for years.

The tips of his ears were bright red, and at some point he realized that his whole body temperature was rising to an almost unbearable degree.

He had ruined everything.

Not only had Jeng seen Pok’s naked body — something Pok had always been insecure about — but the whole situation was so humiliating that Pok wished he could simply disappear.

"I’m sorry…" he finally spoke after what felt like a thousand heavy sighs that Jeng must have heard from the other side of the apartment. "That’s so embarrassing. Can we pretend it didn’t happen?"

Pok’s voice trembled, his whole body was shaking with anxiety. He wasn’t even sure what he had just said made any sense — all he could think about was that Jeng must hate him now. 

That he was disappointed. Disgusted.

Why did that even happen?

"Pok, listen," Jeng murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing bad happened. I’m not mad at you, and I don’t think you’re gross."

"I didn’t say I thought you thought that."

"But you did think that, didn’t you?"

Of course Jeng knew. Jeng always knew everything about Pok — everything for Pok, everything that mattered to Pok, everything Pok. He could read Pok’s mind if he wanted to. And maybe he did from time to time.

And if Jeng really could read it, then he must have found out what Pok felt for him — the yearning, the longing, the quiet want.

"Can you open the door?”

Silence.

Or rather, no words at all. Because Jeng could hear Pok's ragged breathing.

“Pok,” he made an effort to make his voice reflect only sweetness, calmness, anything that wouldn't scare the frightened boy behind the door.

“Please, leave,” his voice reflected the utter shame he felt. So subdued, terrified beyond belief.

“Pok,” Jeng repeated, clinging to the door. “What if I told you that actually, I liked what I saw?”

Pok's eyes widened in shock. Jeng's words made no sense. How could he like it? Pok felt disgust for himself, why didn't he feel the same? He had to be lying, just so Pok wouldn't feel worse, so it wouldn't be any more uncomfortable than he already was, right?

But there was something in Jeng's voice that made him get up and open the door.

Actually, he only unlocked the door. He looked down at the floor and made sure the towel around his waist was securely fastened. Jeng waited a few seconds in silence, giving Pok space to do whatever he needed, before opening the door. He felt his heart ache a little when he saw him there, leaning against the sink, looking down, his adorable body still trembling.

He took a few steps to lean against the wall, so that he could be close enough, but still keeping some distance; he didn't want to scare him.

"I'm sorry, Jeng."

He felt his heart clench.

"You don't have to apologize. You weren't doing anything wrong. It's completely natural."

Pok felt his chest heave. He never thought he'd find himself in a situation like that. Not only did he avoid doing these things, but when he did them, he was extremely careful. And that he hadn't even considered the possibility that Jeng might return earlier…

"Pok, honestly, the date was a total disaster."

Pok hugged himself  tighter. Were they going to talk about it now? Was it really so natural for other people that they could just change the subject like nothing had happened?

"I'm sorry, she seemed like a nice girl."

"She wasn't."

Pok was a little bewildered. It wasn't exactly normal to be clinging to a towel for dear life to keep it from falling off because, oh well, it didn't matter; his roommate had already seen him naked just a few minutes ago while he was touching himself thinking about him. And now he was standing in front of him, talking about how bad his date had been? The situation was definitely not normal.

“Jeng, I am sorry, I don’t know what I am supposed to say.”

“Maybe you would know if you looked at me.”

He swallowed hard. The situation couldn't have been more humiliating, and Jeng didn't seem willing to let it go so easily.

"I can't look at you right now."

Jeng could barely hear his own voice. He decided to approach slowly, making sure Pok was aware of his movements, so he wouldn't be taken by surprise. With his finger, he gently pushed Pok's chin, helping him lift his head.

Pok allowed it, but even though his head was up, his eyes remained fixed on the floor.

"Pok," Jeng's voice was just a whisper, "look at me."

"I don't want to face rejection right now, Jeng. Can we talk tomorrow?"

Jeng's expression softened. Pok was so sweet. Did he really not realize how much he affected his heart? With his thumb, he caressed the skin just below his lip.

"Why do you think I'm going to reject you?"

"Jeng, you really didn't understand anything that was happening?"

"Look at me."

Finally, Pok looked at him, because the tone of his voice was unusual, and he was dying of curiosity to understand what was going through Jeng's head.

And it was true, he found no disgust or hatred in his gaze. He realized he had never been so close to him. He saw the exact color of his eyes; it was more beautiful than he could have imagined.

“I’ve never felt this for a man, Pok, but it makes sense that I feel this for you. I meant it, I didn’t want you to stop. You felt embarrassed but to me you looked like a god.”

Pok could swear he was trapped in some kind of fever dream — there was simply no way this could be real. And yet, the sharp scent of Jeng’s cologne lingering so close to his nose felt undeniable, the warmth of his breath brushing against Pok’s lips as he spoke far too real, the touch so gentle it nearly made Pok’s heart stutter.

Every inhale felt borrowed, fragile. The tightness coiling in his stomach was almost unbearable, and the slow trail of sweat slipping down his neck made him sway slightly.

Jeng was here — real, warm, and impossibly close. And he was touching him. Like he meant it.

With every passing second, Pok felt more exposed. His skin burned, especially where Jeng’s fingertips traced soft, absent-minded circles — from his chin, down the line of his neck, to his shoulders and along his clavicles.

For a while, neither of them moved any further.

It lingered there — that strange, fragile space between them, filled with uneven breaths and everything they didn’t quite know how to say.

Pok swallowed, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides, like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

Jeng noticed.

His hand stilled.

“…Is this okay?” he asked quietly, his voice softer now, stripped of all confidence.

That alone made Pok’s chest tighten.

He nodded — too quickly — then, embarrassed, added in a small voice, “Yeah. I just… I don’t really know.”

A faint, almost shy smile touched Jeng’s lips.

“Me neither,” he murmured. “But I want to touch you. I want to help you.”

That broke something. Just enough.

Pok let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh, the tension easing — not gone, but softer now, warmer.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a shaky voice.

“Can I finish what you have already started?”

Pok made a sound that almost got Jeng fell on his knees — a sigh somewhere between a risked laugh and a quite moan. 

Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hand and placed it against Jeng’s side.

Hesitant at first, then staying.

Jeng inhaled sharply at the contact, his fingers tightening slightly where they rested on Pok’s skin — not pulling away.

Not stopping him, encouraging, without saying it.

Pok looked at him then — properly this time.

Jeng’s thumb moved slightly, brushing against warm skin, testing, learning — and when Pok didn’t pull back, only leaned in closer, something inside him finally gave in.

“…Okay,” Pok whispered, more to himself than to him.

Pok’s back hit the mattress, a quiet breath slipping past his lips as the world seemed to tilt for a second.

Jeng followed him without hesitation, his hands finding Pok’s hips — warm, steady — where the soft fabric of the towel brushed against his skin.

The touch wasn’t rushed — if anything, it lingered.

Like Jeng was giving him time to pull away. Or to stay.

Pok’s fingers tightened slightly in the sheets, his breath uneven as he looked up at him — searching, uncertain, but not stopping him.

Jeng’s thumbs moved just slightly, brushing along the edge of the fabric, not pushing further yet — just there, grounding, asking without words.

Pok nodded, a little breathless, answering the question that was never asked aloud. 

Jeng moved his fingers slowly, each nerve he touched altering Pok's entire system. His own breathing was becoming increasingly rapid with anticipation. Seeing Pok naked had been a heavenly experience, and that Pok was willing to let him continue…

“You can always stop me if you doubt,” Jeng said, his mouth feeling dry. 

He waited, watching Pok's open mouth, his eyes fixed on him, as if he could hardly believe that Pok really wanted to touch him. What a beautiful angel.

He placed one of his fingers under the towel, gauging Pok's reactions. When he felt Pok's body move closer to his, he pushed the fabric just a little, but it was enough to make the towel fall to the floor.

And there he was again, in all his glory. Pok's ears were completely red, his chest heaving intensely once more. But this time, Pok never stopped staring at him, absorbing every reaction, every movement. His hands moved, caressing Pok's belly, noticing the way his mouth opened even wider as a reaction.

When he touched the base of Pok's cock, the most beautiful sound Jeng had ever heard escaped his lips. It was so sensitive to touch; Jeng only had to brush it a little more with his fingers for Pok's back to arch, violently throwing his head back.

Pok's neck was now fully exposed. Attractive, desirable. He could see the beautiful, slightly tanned skin, beckoning him closer. Jeng moved his hand, causing more reactions in Pok's body when his tongue at the same time made contact with his skin, kissing him just below the chin.

“J-Jeng,” Pok didn’t actually have anything to say, he was just too overwhelmed with the sensation.

That’s why Jeng captured his lips with his mouth, as his hands traveled for Pok’s length, it felt so different from his own body, and Jeng relished every difference as if it only made Pok more seductive. Pok was so sensitive when his touch approached the tip; Jeng could tell by the way his breathing quickened even more.

Pok returned the kiss with effort, feeling like he was stealing all of Jeng's oxygen, but Jeng didn't care. It was intoxicating to feel him against his mouth, while his hand caressed his body. He knew it was thanks to him that the moans escaped his lips.

Jeng let go of him to wrap his arms around his waist, and brought his other arm right behind his knees to lift him off the floor.

“Jeng!” It was an exclamation of surprise.

How is it that two seconds ago he had been kissing and enjoying the movements of his hand, and barely a second later Jeng had him in his arms, taking him out of the bathroom to sit him on the bed.

"Just so you're more comfortable." Jeng said and of course, Pok blushed even more.

Jeng let his fingers slide down the skin of Pok's legs, before he took his cock back in his hands.

Pok closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation. It felt much better than when he'd done it himself. Jeng moved his hand gently at first, sometimes letting the tips of his fingers try to touch him or apply pressure in certain places. It was as if Jeng was trying to discover something, and as more answers came from Pok's throat, he began to speed up his hand.

Something was bothering Jeng; his own pants felt too tight. He used his other hand to pull them off, having to rest his head on Pok's body to keep his balance. 

He was left in his underwear, but it wasn't enough. The hand that wasn't touching Pok slid inside his boxers, caressing his own body, just as Pok opened his eyes in surprise.

Was Jeng touching himself next to him? Pok didn't understand why it felt so good to see him do that. He wanted to help him, and soon they got rid of all the clothes above their hips. 

The only thing preventing them from fully admiring each other were Jeng's boxers.

Pok didn't have time to think about how to ask Jeng to take them off, that he just wanted to see a little, because Jeng spoke, his voice deep, full of desire

"So? You only fantasized about my hands?"

Jeng's voice was driving him crazy. Especially since he knew Jeng knew what he was doing to him.

The moment Pok looked him in the eyes, Jeng knew it wasn't the only thing.

Jeng's hands were having fun caressing both of their bodies, but it was much more fun to watch Pok turn crimson as soon as he took a little of the fluid that came from the tip of Pok's cock and put his fingers in his mouth.

"Do you want me to taste you more directly?"

Pok swallowed hard. Was this really going to happen? Before he could even process it, Jeng was already kneeling at the foot of the bed, his mouth so close to his crotch that his breath sent shivers down his spine.

Jeng looked up, straight into Pok's eyes.

"Listen, Pok... I've never done this with a man before, so if I do something wrong, or if I could do it better, just tell me, okay?"

Jeng waited patiently for Pok's response. It was adorable to see him so flustered, so full of desire, but he wanted to make sure Pok understood what Jeng was saying —and that he wanted it.

Pok nodded, very slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from Jeng. He followed his every move. He could almost see the saliva traveling down his throat, the particles of air escaping between his teeth the second before he flicked the tip of his tongue out to caress the head of Pok's cock.

Pok's body tensed at the contact, electricity coursing through him. Jeng didn't want to rush things, testing the waters with his tongue. He caressed the length of Pok's shaft with just the tip, getting used to the sensation, discovering how that part of Pok felt in his mouth. His tongue began to loosen a little more, tensing and lengthening it so that it could now cover more of Pok's shaft.

He wasn't supposed to enjoy doing this so much, but he loved it. The texture of Pok's cock on his tongue felt amazing. He explored every inch, savoring the tingles he felt as he moved to the tip, feeling the veins, until he went low enough to take his balls in his mouth and suck gently.

"Careful with your teeth!" Pok had told him, as he felt his legs tremble.

Of course, he could hurt him. He tucked his teeth under his lips so he could continue sucking the area. His tongue refused to stop, tracing circles, lines, scribbles until it found the head of Pok's cock again, and there, he finally took it into his mouth.

Pok felt like he was in another state, feeling something moving from his stomach without stopping, a pleasure that, even though it was centered there, echoed throughout his entire body. His moans followed the rhythm Jeng set. He was truly, in a way, inside Jeng; their bodies were connected. That thought made his body arch. It wasn't a fantasy; his cock was feeling how hot and exquisite Jeng's mouth was.

Unable to control it, his hips thrust upward, pushing deeper into Jeng's mouth. When he tried to apologize, to say it had been an involuntary spasm, Jeng gripped just below his waist with his hands and pulled his head down to take more of Pok into his mouth.

Pok was speechless. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel either; he'd never had a blowjob before. But that one was amazing. Every nerve in his body was awake, sensitive, receptive to the sensations in his groin.

Jeng picked up the pace, having to use one hand to hold the base of Pok's cock while he continued to pleasure him with his mouth. Pok felt the orgasm approaching, lost control of his hips, his hands clutching at whatever he could find.

"Jeng, I'm going to come. If you want, just continue with your hand."

He didn't hear him; actually, it felt as if Pok were encouraging him to go even faster.

"Jeng, I'm so close. Jeng!" His name escaped with a moan as he felt the orgasm course through his body.

He closed his legs as tightly as Jeng's body would allow, arching his back, his hands scratching at the bedsheets. Pok looked down as Jeng pulled his mouth away from his cock. His cheeks full, he grabbed some toilet paper next to the bed and spat right there.

"Sorry, it doesn't disgust me, but it's all very new to me. Maybe next time I can swallow it."

Next time? Did that mean there would be a next time? Oh, definitely. Pok was in paradise.

He really couldn't speak. Spasms still coursed through his body, his head thrown back, gasping for air. Jeng waited patiently for him to recover. He sat beside him, stroking his belly.

Pok was a beautiful sight, no matter when you saw him. Maybe what they'd done was a little messy, but the result —Pok with his eyes half-closed, his cheeks flushed, his beautiful mouth open, trying to catch as much air as possible while his chest heaved— was the most adorable thing Jeng had ever seen.

“God! That was amazing!”

Jeng smiled proudly. He had tuly wanted Pok to enjoy, and he was relieved that it hadn't gone wrong.

"Jeng... Do you want me to...?"

"Oh, don't worry, maybe only your hand."

"But I... want to."

Now it was Jeng's turn to feel the shiver run through his body. Pok couldn't have said that, because now he couldn't get it out of his head. Just when he thought his desire couldn't get any stronger, he discovered something new he wanted to do with Pok.

And for his part, Pok saw Jeng's gaze darken at the mere mention of the idea. He straightened up, just to help Jeng move, so that he would be the one to lie down on the bed. He wanted him to be in a comfortable position, just as he himself had been.

"It's my first time doing this too, so let me know if you want me to stop."

At first, Pok could only look at Jeng’s body. There was something almost intimidating about seeing him like this — bare, right in front of him.

Pok had seen Jeng shirtless before. Jeng used to sleep that way, and the image of him stepping out of the bathroom each evening with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist — droplets of water slipping down his torso, catching the soft glow of the dim room — had never quite left Pok’s mind.

But this was different.

There was something more in being allowed to truly look at him. To touch him the way Pok had always wanted to — because he had, more than anything, if anyone had ever dared to ask.

Because Jeng was perfect. Not just in the curve of his waist, the line of his lean shoulders, or the elegant length of his neck — but in the way he simply existed.

As if he knew the space belonged to him, even with that faint, adorable blush dusting his cheeks. Under Pok’s almost starving gaze, Jeng remained composed — calm, steady.

And almost painfully cool.

"Can I take this off?" Pok asked as he looked down at Jeng’s underwear with a wet spot right above the clearly visible erection like a teenager being touched for the first time. 

His whole body trembled with anticipation, and Pok could feel it in the way Jeng’s hips shifted slightly upward when his thumbs brushed against the waistband.

Jeng was exposed — completely, entirely for him. Not just in the obvious, physical way, but in something deeper. There was something achingly precious in the fact that Jeng allowed this, allowed Pok to touch him even while uncertainty lingered — about himself, about what he felt, about what this meant.

And Pok wanted to answer that trust with everything he had.

His hand moved slowly, tracing a line from Jeng’s neck down to his chest, fingertips ghosting over the nipples before pausing to press lightly, drawing a quiet reaction from him. Pok leaned in, closing the distance, and kissed him — with all the desire and urgency he’d been holding back, swallowing the ringing moan that escaped Jeng’s lips. 

He groaned in Jeng’s mouth like he saw paradise. Kissed him, like someone starved for air.

Like Jeng was the only place he could breathe.

The kiss turned messy, unsteady, real — filled with heat and something dangerously close to desperation as Pok pulled him closer, deepening it, losing himself in the feeling of him.

Pok’s hand went inside Jeng’s boxers and he touched Jeng’s member with his finger, teasing the tip with his thumb.

"Pok," Jeng said in a barely audible voice — something that was less like a word and more like an idea of one — as he tried to open his eyes, though the sensation was almost too overwhelming to bear.

Pok looked at him, his gaze heavy with something deeper than words could hold. "Yes?" he murmured softly.

"Touch me," Jeng managed, the plea dissolving into a quiet groan against Pok’s lips as he leaned in and kissed him again. "Please."

If anything in the world could be called angelic, it had to be the sound of Jeng like this — his voice unsteady, threaded with need, the soft tremble of it as he whispered Pok’s name as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And Pok didn’t hesitate.

He moved lower down Jeng’s body, leaving a trail of saliva on his sternum and tracing Jeng’s nipples with the tip of his tongue, causing him to arch his back in a soft moan, his eyes rolling back.

When Pok reached Jeng’s member, his mouth watered at the sight: his cock was slightly larger than Pok’s, the tip already wet with pre-cum, and the veins bulged, showing how visibly aroused Jeng was.

"Tell me if I..." Pok blushed and felt shy at the single thought of giving Jeng a blow job. "If you don't like it."

Jeng muttered something that wasn't even a suggestion, more like a plea, and ran his fingers through Pok's hair, allowing him to lean in and finally touch Jeng where they both needed it most.

The first kiss was almost airy, just a light brush of lips against the tip of Jeng’s cock — as if testing whether he would pull away or shudder from the touch.

Jeng melted, feeling a warm, wet tongue slide from base to tip, exploring his skin as if it were the sweetest thing in the world.

The air in the room grew thick — warm, heavy with closeness, with quiet sounds and soft, breathless murmurs that filled the space between them. Jeng’s voice, low and unsteady, only made the heat in Pok’s chest burn stronger, rising with every tremor, every subtle shift of Jeng’s body beneath his touch.

Pressing Jeng closer, if it was even possible, he moved his head up and down the shaft, licking it and wetting the length with sweet saliva, while placing his palm on the part of Jeng his mouth couldn’t reach.

It felt like something beyond heaven — something that couldn’t be reduced to mere pleasure or simple bliss. 

It was sharper, fuller, overwhelming in the best way — an awareness of being alive, of every inch of his skin, every fleeting touch, every rise and fall of his chest as if he was experiencing it all for the very first time.

"Faster," Jeng said, "please, I'm close."

Perhaps Jeng's loud cry had some effect on Pok's stomach. 

Or maybe not.

But the way his heart rejoiced as he moved his head faster, occasionally sucking on the tip, brought him overwhelming pleasure. 

It was good. So good. Better than anything, if someone asked Pok. 

Pok felt his hair tighten in Jeng’s grip as his body shuddered, a sharp tremor running through him. The movement sent Jeng back against the mattress with a soft thud, breath catching as Jeng finally unraveled above him. 

He came right on Pok’s lips, leaving a sweet scent and milky taste on his skin. The moment spilled over in warmth and closeness, leaving behind a lingering honeyness — something intimate, almost overwhelming — as Pok remained there, caught in it, feeling everything at once.

Jeng’s arms tightened around him, pulling him closer like he didn’t want to let go — like he was afraid Pok might disappear if he did.

Pok went completely still in his embrace.

Too close. Too real.

His heart was still racing somewhere in his throat, and he didn’t know how to move, how to breathe next to him after everything that had just happened.

He pressed his forehead against Jeng’s shoulder, hiding his face, because looking at him now felt impossible.

Too embarrassing. Too vulnerable.

"Pok?" Jeng called softly, his hand moving slowly up and down his back in a quiet attempt to calm him. "Hey… talk to me."

Pok swallowed, his fingers curling tightly into the sheets like they were the only thing grounding him.

"Was that…" he started, then stopped.

No way he was about to say that. Even asking felt humiliating.

Jeng shifted slightly, trying to catch his gaze, but Pok only turned his face further away, stubbornly hiding.

"Was that what?" Jeng asked gently, brushing the strand of hair from Pok’s face, "hmm?"

Pok hesitated again, then forced the words out, barely above a whisper: "Did it mean something to you?"

The question sounded so small. So scared.

Because Pok knew. Jeng had never been with a man before. Jeng had never liked a guy. Meaning that was just a moment of weakness. Or maybe an experiment. Just to see how it will turn out. 

He knew that.

And Jeng had never shown anything, never said anything, never looked at him like this before.

Jeng didn’t like Pok, because Pok is Pok.

A man, first of all. 

And that means that Jeng was already regretting coming back home earlier. He was already overthinking his decision to touch Pok, to let him touch him. 

It was all a mistake for Jeng, probably. 

Pok felt his heart almost stopping, the breathing was becoming optional as he attempted to leave an embrace and go away. 

Maybe cry in the washroom. Or move out. 

His chest tightened painfully.

"I just…" Pok’s voice wavered as Jeng looked at him and shook his head in denial, tightening his arms around Pok’s waist, digging his fingers into his skin, leaving a red mark. "I don’t know you… felt anything. I didn’t even know if you... if this is something you’d ever want."

The silence which followed was too loud and for a second stretched too long.

Then Jeng’s hand stilled against his back.

"Pok," something in his voice changed, as he touched Pok’s forearm. 

Pok finally risked a glance up — just a small one — and immediately felt his breath catch, because the way Jeng was looking at him only made everything worse.

Too intense and way too real.

Jeng sighed softly and gently cupped the back of his neck, guiding him closer instead of letting him hide.

"I didn’t know either," he admitted quietly.

Pok blinked. "What?"

Jeng let out a quiet, almost nervous breath of a laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"I didn’t know I can feel this. Not until… you."

That hit harder than anything. Pok just stared at him, completely thrown as Jeng’s thumb brushed lightly along his jaw, more careful now — like he was the one afraid.

"I’ve never… done this before," he continued, softer. "Not with a guy. Not like this."

Pok’s breath caught. "Then why?”" he whispered.

Jeng looked at him for a long moment — like he was choosing whether to say it.

"Because it’s you."

Pok’s face burned instantly, and he hid again, pressing into Jeng’s shoulder.

"Don’t say things like that," he mumbled, completely flustered. "I’m trying to be serious."

"I am serious," Jeng replied just as quietly. His arms tightened again, more certain this time, almost possessively. 

"And I know we’re not anything. Not yet," he added carefully. "But this wasn’t nothing. For me."

Pok went still. "Really?"

Jeng exhaled softly. "Really."

Then, a little more hesitant: "Was it nothing for you?"

Pok made a small, offended sound against his shoulder. "You know it wasn’t," he muttered.

Jeng smiled faintly, pressing his cheek against Pok’s hair.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I think I do."

Pok stayed close and, for his surprise, he didn’t feel like running anymore.

"Jeng?" Pok murmured after a moment of comfortable silence, filled only with the soft buzz of the air conditioner and Jeng’s quiet, content breaths.

Jeng hummed in response, pressing a gentle kiss to Pok’s cheek.

"I like you," he said, hesitating just slightly.

Jeng’s heart spiked — so fast it felt like Pok could not only feel it where he rested on his chest, but hear every single beat.

"I think I like you too," Jeng replied softly. "But can you give me some time?"

Pok smiled to himself, burying his face in the crook of Jeng’s neck.

"As long as you stay with me."

Jeng stroked his hair, fully aware of the heat emanating from Pok's body against his own.

He felt alive, as if something inside him was being released at that moment.

It wasn't easy to get rid of all the mental barriers he'd always had, Jeng knew that. But at that moment, something much stronger was creeping into his head, or not just his head, because he could practically feel it throughout his entire body.

That desire to have Pok by his side forever.