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It’s well past midnight when Hongjoong concedes to the fact that sleep won’t be finding him.
He isn’t a stranger to sleepless nights, to writhing around in bed with no end in sight. Hongjoong has tried all of the rudimentary methods — warm tea, counting sheep, soft meditation music from his YouTube recommendation, and of course, melatonin when the others hadn’t worked, but all it did was give him weird nightmares he’d rather not experience again.
Through all of that, it hasn’t gotten better, in fact his inability to sleep has only gotten worse. Before this year, he could manage it well enough, grab at least a few hours of rest a night, but as the semester drags on, it seems as if he can only truly fall asleep when his body gives out in exhaustion.
Hongjoong fumbles a hand toward his nightstand, sighing when his fingers touch the unopened orange bottle hidden underneath a crinkling medical packet. His best friend, and roommate, Seonghwa had been the one to finally convince him to revisit a doctor, fed up with finding Hongjoong in various pitiful states around their apartment — like passed out in his breakfast bowl or tripping over his body in the dark living room when Hongjoong finds the carpet more comfortable than his bed.
He was never against medication, but he had been opposed to talking to a medical professional again after multiple previous attempts at curing his insomnia. But at some point he couldn’t ignore the genuine concern in his friend’s eyes. He hates worrying anyone, but most of all, his best friend.
So Hongjoong had gotten a new prescription, an entirely different medication than he’s ever tried before, with all new side effects that he would have to uncover — like the risk of vivid dreams. It’s been nearly a week since his appointment and he has yet to take them, hoping that maybe, just maybe, something would magically cure him before he has to try them.
Hongjoong’s head throbs suddenly, as if it can detect his apprehension. Sleep deprivation is never kind, but he’s going on a week of no real rest and it’s starting to affect his daily life. He isn’t sure if he’ll be able to function tomorrow if he doesn’t sleep tonight. Worst of all, he’s had this headache plaguing him since Tuesday, and it’s begun to settle a rolling nausea in his stomach every time he shifts.
If the medication will take that lovely sensation away from him, then he’ll just have to get over himself.
He blindly unscrews the bottle, tipping a pill onto his palm, tossing it back into his mouth before he can think about it for too long. He nearly chokes on the dry glide of it down his throat, swallowing a big gulp of water that aches as it goes down.
Hongjoong heaves as he lays back against his pillows, staring pitifully at his ceiling as he begs the medication to work swiftly. At the very least, rid him of the dreadful symptoms so he can do something more productive than roll around on his mattress like he has been.
He isn’t sure how long he lays there, waiting for his eyelids to get heavy, but somewhere between pleading to God to end his suffering and stuffing a pillow over his face, he actually manages to fall asleep. He has no idea he’s done so, until he’s jolting back into consciousness, sunlight drifting through his lace curtains.
Hongjoong grimaces, curling deeper into his nest of blankets. He feels so warm and comfortable, he actually thinks he may be able to fall back asleep, which doesn’t happen to him often. That is, until he notices the incessant knocking on his door, likely what woke him in the first place.
The voice of his roommate drifts underneath the door, “Hongjoong-ah? I’m coming in.”
“Hmph, wha’?” He croaks, limbs dreadfully heavy as he searches for his phone. It feels like he’s trying to move in a bath of concrete with how difficult it is to move.
“Joong-ah?”
He gives up on his phone, swallowing through the dry mouth plaguing him as he raises his voice, “what?”
The door creaks open, the curse of his old hinges, and he notices how Seonghwa’s eyes widen at the sight of Hongjoong’s disheveled appearance, “were you sleeping?”
Hongjoong rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, glancing around for his glasses, but it appears they’ve been swallowed by his linens just like his phone, “I guess? What time is it?”
Seonghwa grimaces, “I thought you left without me. It’s almost two in the afternoon.”
“What?” Hongjoong lurches upright. He’s immediately disoriented, head spinning from the sudden change of position. He slumps over with his head held up in his hands, waiting for the world to straighten out.
“Are you okay?” Seonghwa’s cool hand touches his forehead, the temperature making him flinch, “you’re burning up. Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine. I think. I feel fine?” Hongjoong shoves the duvet off of his bare legs. Seonghwa’s hand drops to his knee, squeezing the flesh like he’s trying to persuade Hongjoong to tell him the truth — but for the first time in his life, it is the truth. He truly feels fine, a bit frantic given the circumstances, but overall, fine, “seriously. I’m good. Really good. Wow.”
Seonghwa stays silent and when Hongjoong glances up at him, confusion is written all over his face.
“I took one of my sleeping pills, the ones my doctor gave me the other day,” he explains, “I couldn’t sleep and — wow, I fucking slept. Holy shit.”
“And you feel okay? You don’t feel weird or dizzy?”
“No, I actually feel really fucking good,” almost energized by the fact, Hongjoong throws his hands up in celebration, almost smacking Seonghwa upside the head, “I don’t think I even dreamt. Is this what normal people feel like?”
Seonghwa chuckles, amused, “well, us normal people usually dream,” he says, “what time did you take it?”
“Like, three? Four? I can’t remember, I had this horrible headache.”
“Joong, you slept for like, thirteen hours straight. You didn’t wake up once?”
“No,” he smiles, satisfied, before his eyes widen dramatically and he launches upright once more, “oh, fuck.”
“I was wondering when you’d remember the fact that it’s two.”
Hongjoong manages to make it to his feet, immediately shooing Seonghwa out of his room to prepare quickly for class.
By the time he’s following Seonghwa out of their building, he’s got about fifteen minutes to make it to his music theory class before his rude, old professor slams the door in his face.
“So, you really slept, huh?” Seonghwa asks, easily keeping pace with Hongjoong’s short, choppy steps.
He bobs his head, “yeah. Like, dead to the world.”
“No shit. I was knocking for ten minutes, I was about to do a welfare check.”
Hongjoong can’t help but smile, “I can’t believe it. I should’ve let you bully me into going to the doctor sooner.”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, nudging Hongjoong’s shoulder with his, “just let me know when you take them so I can make sure you don’t go into hibernation next time.”
Hongjoong quickly gives him his promises at the crossroad between their buildings. He’s nearly tripping over himself in his rush to get to class, but that doesn’t stop Seonghwa from latching onto his wrist and raising his pinky with expectation, that dorky smile curled on his lips as he shakes his hand adamantly.
He scoffs, interlocking his pinky with Seonghwa’s, bumping their knuckles together, “I promise, okay. I’ll see you after?”
“Sure, have a good afternoon, Joong!”
He waves over his shoulder, jogging down the path with energy that he hasn’t possessed in weeks. Maybe he’ll have to send his doctor a gift basket for whatever miracle drug he prescribed him.
“There’s our resident insomniac!” Wooyoung cheers when Hongjoong steps into his apartment, hooking his arm around Hongjoong’s neck and making the process of getting his shoes off incredibly difficult. His friend leans closer, staring intently at his face, “are you wearing concealer?”
Hongjoong gives him a look, frowning, “what?”
“Your dark circles don’t look as apocalyptic today.”
“Thanks, asshole,” he rolls his eyes, slithering out of the forceful embrace and successfully kicking off his sneakers.
“It was a compliment!”
“We’ve gotta work how you deliver them,” San chuckles, appearing from the kitchen. He stops in his tracks when he sees Hongjoong’s face, “holy shit.”
Hongjoong groans, “come on, you guys are being so dramatic.”
“Guys, you gotta see this!”
He’s unceremoniously dragged into the living room where the rest of their friends are, surrounded by books, laptops and notebooks, but their attention is swiftly ripped away in favor of gawking at Hongjoong.
He squirms in his slippers, shooting a pleading look in Seonghwa’s direction, but the traitor does little to help, grinning around his straw.
“He lives!” Mingi gasps, pointing a finger that Jongho slaps down, “the zombie has been cured.”
“You all suck,” Hongjoong groans, shaking off his friends’ hands, collapsing into his usual spot between Seonghwa and Yunho around the coffee table, “a guy gets a night's sleep and suddenly he’s a spectacle.”
“The insomniac gets some rest, yeah, that’s kind of a big deal,” Yeosang says.
“Your dark circles do look better,” Yunho comments.
Jongho muses around his beer, “Seonghwa said you slept through the night but we didn’t really believe it.”
“Wow, thanks,” he replies dryly. He glares at Seonghwa halfheartedly, “traitor.”
His roommate raises his hands in surrender, “Sangie and Jongho were wondering why you didn’t grab your morning coffee!”
Hongjoong sighs, tugging his laptop out of his bag, placing it in the narrowly available space on the corner of the table, “my doctor just prescribed me some meds. It’s not a big deal, it could’ve been a fluke. I was exhausted.”
“One night sleep is better than nothing at this point,” Mingi says, “especially for you.”
“I thought meds gave you nightmares,” Yunho frowns.
He shrugs, typing in his password, “guess these don’t. I dunno.”
“Next time take them before midnight,” Seonghwa leans into him, nudging Hongjoong’s knee with his own, “so I don’t think you died or something.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. You already made me pinky promise,” he complains, before glancing around the table, “so did anyone order dinner? I’m fucking starving.”
Thankfully, the argument that ensues regarding their dinner plans distracts the group from further prying into his insomnia miracle. Not that it really bothers him much, not as much as he acts like it does. They’ve all been friends long enough to personally witness the consequences of his insomnia — hell, Yeosang and Jongho have made it their personal mission to keep him caffeinated when he shows up barely conscious in the morning.
However, one thing that truly makes him uncomfortable, it’s being bothersome. With his sleep deprived tendencies growing worse, it always feels as if he’s leaning on one friend or another to keep him alive. Worst of all, it seems like Seonghwa is always the one who gets the short end of the stick. He never complains, never once said anything rude about his weird quirks, it never ceases to make him feel guilty, like he’s putting way too much responsibility on his friend.
But even now, Seonghwa always keeps an eye on him.
“You know they’re just happy for you. You do look better today,” Seonghwa leans close, voice low enough to stick between them. Hongjoong straightens, fighting against the shiver that threatens to rack up his spine, “we can all see it.”
Hongjoong thinks the only person that he truly accepts compliments from is Seonghwa. He allows the soft words to permeate in his chest until a warmth blooms in his chest that’s difficult to ignore — almost as difficult as the heat of Seonghwa’s thigh pressed against his.
“Thanks,” he mumbles back, glancing up at Seonghwa through his lashes, as if they can protect him from Seonghwa’s affection. He releases a heavy breath, “I feel a lot better, too. I really hope it keeps working.”
“If it doesn’t work tonight, then we’ll just find a different medication. Don’t worry, Joong.”
Hongjoong smiles, leaning into the man’s side like a cat yearning for attention. And much like approaching a feline, Seonghwa stills, knowing Hongjoong will flee if he attempts to reciprocate too soon. When the other man realizes Hongjoong won’t pull away, his hand finds the nape of his neck to give a comforting squeeze.
“Yah, stop looking at each other like that and get your cash in the pool,” Wooyoung exclaims from the other end of the table.
Hongjoong had tuned out the group’s conversation in favor of bathing under Seonghwa’s attention that he hadn’t realized they came to a consensus about dinner.
He narrows his eyes at the man and his loud mouth, jamming a hand in his pocket to lose a few bills.
Later that evening, when Hongjoong and Seonghwa have survived the night with their friends and have returned to their apartment, Seonghwa catches his hand before he can enter his room.
“Are you going to take your meds tonight?”
He checks the time, shrugging, “I guess so. It isn’t too late, so I probably won’t wake up past noon again.”
Seonghwa nods, “I’ll check on you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’ll make me feel better.”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes fondly, “okay. If it’ll make you feel better,” he opens his door, “even though it’ll be super boring, considering I’ll be dead to the world.”
Seonghwa chuckles, “goodnight, Joong-ah.”
“Night.”
Once he’s showered and dressed in his night clothes, he has no qualms against reaching for that orange bottle. His only worry now is if the medication will work again for him or not.
He swallows back the white tablet with a swig of water before settling underneath his blankets, sighing contentedly.
The effects of the medication work swiftly, lulling his body and mind into a relaxation he doesn’t often feel as he scrolls around on his phone aimlessly. He feels as if he’s sinking into the mattress as his eyes drift shut, the device slipping out of his hand and onto the mattress with a soft thud.
He isn’t sure how long he’s been asleep, but sometime later, he hazily notices a knock at the door. Hongjoong groans softly, his body uncomfortably heavy as he tries to lift his head from the comfort of his pillow.
The door creaks open, Seonghwa popping his head in, squinting through the dim light of his bedroom.
He whispers his name, a soft sound that is almost indiscinerable through the fog in Hongjoong’s head. He attempts to say something back, but nothing comes out, tongue stuck stubbornly to the roof of his mouth.
His roommate pads toward him silently, peering down at him as if to check if he’s truly asleep. He attempts to make another noise, a complaint against being woken up when the man knows he has trouble sleeping, but it’s as if he’s paralyzed, watching the scene from outside of his body, like some sort of lucid dream.
Is this a dream? He wonders absently, his body shifting slightly as Seonghwa sits beside him on the edge of the mattress.
If he were able, he would have jolted from the touch on his bare thigh. It’s featherlight, cool against his naturally heated skin. The question circling through his mind flares louder, more alarmed, as he struggles to make sense of what’s happening.
Nothing except a soft sigh escapes Hongjoong’s lips.
Is this really fucking happening?
“You’re actually asleep,” Seonghwa marvels, lightly petting the soft skin.
Hongjoong wants to bite back at him petulantly, snap at him that he’s obviously awake, but his skull is full of cotton and the complaints are scrambled the moment he feels Seonghwa’s hand traveling higher.
It’s ticklish how soft the touch is, and it’s odd, the way Hongjoong can feel the sensation so amplified despite how the entire situation feels like a weird out of body experience.
He watches Seonghwa’s expression closely, the way he looks at his body with rapt attention, how enamored he appears at the sight of his thighs despite Hongjoong giving no reaction. Most distractingly, how Seonghwa’s lips part when his fingertips dip underneath the hem of Hongjoong’s boxers.
He’s conflicted, wondering if he should somehow try to stop this — if he should feel violated that Seonghwa is doing this to him while unconscious. But the most profound thought inside of his head isn’t that, but the fact that Seonghwa wants to touch him like this at all. He’s never given any inkling of being interested in Hongjoong in this sort of way before, and given Hongjoong’s massive crush on his best friend, he can’t help but revel in it.
Besides, this is just a dream, anyway. Why not indulge in his own fantasy?
Hongjoong watches like a third party as Seonghwa shifts further onto the mattress, resting on his knees beside Hongjoong’s prone body. The hand that isn’t groping his thigh goes for the waistband of his own pajama pants.
It’s as if he’s seeing something forbidden, knowing he should look away but he can’t, as horrible as it sounds — he’s wanton for it, to finally know what’s hidden underneath those layers of clothes.
Besides, it’s just a dream. As degrading as it is for Hongjoong to accept that he’s having a wet dream about his best friend, there’s a curiosity there of what will happen next — even if it’s all born from his imagination.
So when Seonghwa’s cock springs free from its confines, flushed and hard between his thighs, Hongjoong truly cannot care at all about the morality of indulging in this. Not when Seonghwa looks so pretty, when his cheeks are flushed so nicely and his dick being so big.
Of course his disgustingly perverted brain would think that Seonghwa is packing.
The salacious thoughts are torrential — would his best friend actually be this hard just from touching him, from seeing his body completely clothed in bed?
A hand palms at his ass, gripping the supple flesh roughly as Seonghwa begins to slowly jerk himself off.
Seonghwa’s gaze doesn’t waver, neither does the hand as it greedily slips into his boxers to grip his bare ass. Hongjoong’s breath catches, heavier from the petting, and he can feel himself growing hard, too.
He expects Seonghwa to take more, to touch him elsewhere, but unfortunately, he doesn’t indulge, just continuing to palm at his ass like he’s obsessed with it. Seonghwa’s cock leaks lewdly as he bites down on his lip, like he’s struggling to keep any sound from filtering out, but the pace he’s set is noisy enough.
Hongjoong shifts minutely, an attempt to gain any friction to soothe the ache between his thighs, or maybe a plea to have Seonghwa touch him, too. But the movement only causes Seonghwa’s ministrations to falter, squeezing the base of his cock before slowly retracting his hand from Hongjoong’s boxers.
If Hongjoong could, he thinks he would whine, loud and pathetic, at the cruel tease.
This could be nothing but a nightmare, he’s sure of this now, as Seonghwa slowly rises from the bed, careful not to disturb Hongjoong’s body as he tucks his hard length back into his pants.
Frustration boils underneath his skin, watching Seonghwa heading for the door, leaving him hard and helpless.
The fuzziness inside of his skull grows heavier, annoyance flitting through him as his vision shrinks with a dark edge.
The next time Hongjoong wakes, it’s with lingering annoyance tingling at the base of his skull, and this time he knows he’s truly conscious because of the ability to move his limbs — and the annoying ache between his legs.
Hongjoong rolls his hips against the mattress, groaning weakly at the poor stimulation. His boxers are sticky, clinging uncomfortably to sensitive skin. He whines into his pillow before grumpily extracting himself from his bed to take a cold shower.
That was the shittiest wet dream ever.
Hongjoong thinks he would have been able to ignore what happened if it only happened once. After that first night, he had accepted that his brain was playing a sick joke on him, choosing to feature Seonghwa to satiate his horny desires.
But after he dreams about Seonghwa for a fourth time in two weeks, he isn’t sure if being well rested is worth the emotional turmoil it is putting him through.
Hongjoong grimaces down at his lap after his latest dream, the fabric doing little to hide the result. It also does nothing to dispel the shame that clings to him as his cock aches from the lingering memories.
He doesn’t understand why this is happening. He’s long since acknowledged his crush on Seonghwa, had written it off as a possibility when they moved in together. If it were some faceless man visiting his dreams, he would understand, in fact he would take it as an inclination that he needs to get laid.
He has no idea why Seonghwa is coming to haunt him now.
This is a problem — an incredibly problematic one. It’s something that may cause him to go off of the medication altogether if this keeps happening. Despite finally getting enough sleep, it isn’t as if he can go to his doctor and explain what’s happening to him — that he has no other issues except the fact he keeps getting blue-balled by his roommate in his nightmares.
He glances at his alarm clock. Fortunately he’d woken before he needed to, so he has enough time before he has to prepare for class.
Hongjoong gnaws at his cheek before relenting with little resistance, gripping himself through his clothes. He moans quietly at the stimulation, the feeling singing up his spine.
His chin dips to his chest as he reaches underneath the waistband, gathering the leaking precum to ease the glide. He squeezes his eyes shut, it’s wrong, it’s so wrong. The guilt he’s felt since that first morning has only worsened as the days went on, lingering every time he sees his roommate.
How would Seonghwa feel if he knew that Hongjoong was doing this? How disgusted would he be if he knew Hongjoong was having dreams about him and that he was jerking off thinking about them?
God, he just needs to cum, he’ll deal with his feelings about it later.
He blocks a louder groan with his palm, speeding up his hand as his stomach clenches. His thoughts drift away from him, unbidden, to his most recent dream. The Seonghwa in his dream had come closer to him than previously, chest pressed against Hongjoong’s back. He’d touched him more confidently, allowing his hands to palm at his stomach and crawl up to his chest, pushing the fabric out of the way to expose his nipples.
He thinks he can still feel the phantom pleasure of those touches now, of the way his fingertips tweak his nipples softly, the light touch of his nails as they traveled over his torso. Like every other night, his body had been uncooperative, even when his roommate ghosted over his cock.
Seonghwa had pulled out his dick after a long bout of teasing, jerking himself off rough and fast while gripping Hongjoong’s hip — almost as if he was fucking Hongjoong. But unlike the others, this time Seonghwa came, finally giving Hongjoong an idea of what Seonghwa looks like when he climaxes.
“Oh, god,” he moans quietly. That image is scorned in his retinas, and he’s unable to stop himself from reminiscing in the expression that overtook Seonghwa’s composure when he reached his peak. He looked unreal, ethereal, and the fact that it was Hongjoong’s body that pushed him to that point — “fuck, fuck.”
He paints his hand, splattering messily onto his duvet. Hongjoong works himself through the orgasm without care of his recently laundered blankets, his thighs trembling from the force of it. He only realizes what he’s done when he comes back down to earth.
“Goddammit,” he wipes his tainted hand on his shirt before tossing it away. That and his blankets will need to go in the wash before he heads to class, he needs to destroy the evidence quickly.
Fortunately his roommate doesn’t appear until after he has the chance to throw his things into the washer.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were doing any laundry. Is there room for some of mine?”
Hongjoong flinches, flailing for an excuse as he looks at the pile of fabric in the machine. He resists the urge to cringe at the thought of Seonghwa’s pristine clothing mingling with the dirt of Hongjoong’s sins, “uh, no, sorry. There’s no room.”
“Oh, no worries. I’ll throw mine in when you’re done,” Seonghwa moves around him and heads for their coffee pot, pouring himself a mug. He looks chipper this morning, not unlike his usual personality, but there’s a certain glow about him — or maybe he’s reading into things too much, “you’re up early.”
It’s an effort to force an air of normalcy, just as difficult as it is to look Seonghwa in the eye, “oh, yeah, I woke up before my alarm. I think I’m getting back into a sleep schedule.”
His roommate hums, staring at him over the rim of his mug. Hongjoong turns his back on him, using an excuse of scrounging up breakfast. He must be going crazy because he’s sure that he can feel the weight of Seonghwa’s stare, almost as if he’s searching for something, appraising him.
He swallows roughly. Does Seonghwa know something? Could he have an idea of why Hongjoong didn’t want him to throw his laundry into the washer with his things?
Logically, he knows there’s no way, no logical way that Seonghwa knows about his dirty, little secret. It isn’t real, none of it is. A worst thought drifts through him, that Seonghwa somehow heard him masturbating and knows why he had to do laundry so early.
God, something is very wrong with him if that’s less embarrassing than the truth.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” he answers too quickly, defensive, “why?”
Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, “because you’re an insomniac who has trouble sleeping?”
Hongjoong frowns, “oh, right.”
“Are you sure you slept fine?”
Hongjoong nods adamantly, “yup. All good here. Slept right through the night.”
His roommate stares at him, like Hongjoong had grown a second head, “right… Okay.”
Could he be any more obvious? Acting natural around Seonghwa, after being plagued by his imaginary dick feels fucking impossible.
“Do you still want to head to campus early and grab coffee?”
He nods, staring everywhere except his friend, “yeah, perfect. I’ll just, uh, go get dressed and I’ll be ready.”
Seonghwa hums and Hongjoong catches the man’s smile as he books it out of the room.
He takes a deep breath once he reaches his room, rubbing his hands over his face. He knows he’s doing horrible at feigning normalcy, but there’s only so much a man can do in this situation.
It’s fine, it’s whatever. So what if he keeps having dreams about his attractive roommate sneaking into his room to jerk off on him? At the end of the day, it’s just a weird side effect from his medicine, nothing needs to change between them.
He spends too long in the mirror staring at his reflection, attempting to talk himself up, but by the time he’s ready to head to campus, he accidentally catches sight of his bare mattress and it draws a pitiful wail free from his throat.
Normal. He has to act normal.
But as it turns out, spending as much time as he does with Seonghwa, it’s much more difficult than ever to do that, especially when he’s already had a dormant crush on the man for years.
Every innocent touch makes Hongjoong stiffen, every whiff of Seonghwa’s cologne reminds him of last night when the man in his dream had laid behind him. And now, as Seonghwa leans close to murmur something over the chatter of morning rush at the coffee shop, it makes him want to throw up — or worse, chub up in a public space.
“Hyung!” Jongho smiles when it’s their turn at the register, grinning that cherub smile. Hongjoong reads right through the angelic facade, his eyes settling on Hongjoong, the blush high on his cheekbones from Seonghwa’s proximity glaringly obvious, “you finally dragged Hongjoong in before noon, huh?”
“He almost bit my head off, but it had to be done,” Seonghwa replies, cheekily.
Hongjoong elbows him, affronted, “that is not true! I was up before you.”
“Oh, were you?” He challenges, “I guess I did hear you moving about in your room.”
He chokes on his spit, coughing unattractively into his elbow as he tries to clear his airway. Seonghwa rubs his back, which only makes the hacking worse as he tries to assure him that he’s fine. Jongho, through his teary eyes, looks like he may start laughing at his expense, if it weren’t for the other customers behind them.
Seonghwa orders for both of them given Hongjoong’s state. He even allows him to pay, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak after that, embarrassment burning through him.
He makes an unsubtle excuse to search for a table while Seonghwa waits for their drinks.
“Pull yourself together,” he snarls at himself, patting his warm cheeks with his hands. He’s gaining attention from the other tables, but he’s already made a spectacle of himself.
Seonghwa couldn’t have meant anything by that, right? He probably just heard him cleaning, removing his sheets, and all of that. It was a little joke, that’s it.
His forehead thumps against the table. Maybe if he hits himself hard enough, the concussion will reset his brain so he can stop thinking about Park Seonghwa.
“Okay, what the hell. What’s wrong with you?”
He flinches, looking up to find Wooyoung peering down at him, “what — what the hell are you doing here?”
“I work here?”
“You do?”
“I’ve literally worked here for weeks. Sangie got me a job?” He says, like it’s obvious, pointing at the name tag on his apron, “are you sick or something? Did your medication scramble your brain?”
“No,” he snaps defensively, but the harshness in his voice makes him appear more suspicious. He shrinks down in his seat, glancing over to where Seonghwa is standing by the counter.
Wooyoung follows his stare, a look of bafflement flooding his expression. Hongjoong has no chance to protest before the words are flooding out of Wooyoung, “holy shit, did you two fuck?”
“Shhh! Shut up, what the hell is wrong with you?” He paws at the man’s arm, would’ve been happier slapping a hand over his mouth but he’s too far out of reach, “no! Of course not, what the fuck.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not — maybe because you just said that loud as hell!”
“Hm…I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want,” he replies sulkily, glaring at him.
“So you won’t mind if I ask Seonghwa the same question?”
His glare is sharp enough to cut diamond, “don’t you fucking dare.”
“Then tell me what happened!”
“Nothing happened!”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “obviously something happened. You’re acting so weird, I noticed it from across the goddamn cafe, hyung. Seonghwa touched your shoulder and you got into a coughing fit.”
“I just … choked on my spit,” he grumbles, sliding a hand over his face, “whatever. When did you get so perceptive?”
“I’ve always been perceptive. So what’s up?”
He glances at his roommate again, watching as the man smiles prettily at Yeosang, thanking him for their drinks. Hongjoong shakes his head, “I can’t tell you here.”
Wooyoung raises his eyebrows, then nods, “okay. But you will tell me.”
“Yes, yes. Okay,” he rushes out, the lie sticky between his teeth, as Seonghwa approaches, shoving a hand into Wooyoung’s stomach to get him away.
It’s a bit of a blessing, he thinks, that Wooyoung actually listens to him. Their friend gives Seonghwa a wave and a smile, an excuse that he’s needed in the back as he heads in the direction of the register. But not before throwing a grin in Hongjoong’s direction that tells him that their conversation isn’t over, not in the slightest.
He’ll have to find a way out of that later. Much like everything else in his life.
“Here you go,” Seonghwa says cheerfully, sliding Hongjoong his americano, “what was that about?”
“Just Wooyoung being Wooyoung,” he brushes off Seonghwa’s question and continues, “are you going to the library to study after class?”
He truly commends himself for his ability to have a relatively easy conversation with Seonghwa afterwards, actually able to meet the man’s eyes, too, until they have to leave for class.
He throws up his middle finger at Wooyoung when the man grins connivingly at him on their way out of the door, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He vaguely wonders if he can get away with strangling his friend without campus security being called.
His lecture goes poorly. He can’t focus, not at all. Despite the fact that he’s often one to have the ability to divert his attention wherever it’s needed, even while sleep deprived, his newfound energy is only backfiring because all he can think about is Park fucking Seonghwa.
It’s like he’s plagued, like Seonghwa has dug out a space inside of his brain and sequestered there just to torment him. His thoughts run a loop of their interactions, of the comment he made earlier in the cafe, snippets of the dreams morphing with reality. Is Seonghwa’s dick as big as it is in his dreams? Would Seonghwa even be interested in fucking Hongjoong’s prone body while he’s pretending to be asleep, or is that just one of Hongjoong’s newfound kinks?
When class ends, he has exactly three lines of text typed out on his laptop, completely gibberish and unstable. He’s the last student out of the hall, all of the others unknowing to his emotional peril.
This is worse than when he was sleep deprived. At least he was able to focus, be a little productive in his responsibilities. Now he’s half hard in his baggy jeans on campus because he couldn’t stop reliving his horrible fantasies.
He trudges miserably out of the building, shivering as he’s assaulted by a cold wind and dark clouds that feels uncharacteristic for the spring weather. The universe is just kicking his ass while he’s down, huh, of course today is the day he doesn’t bring a jacket.
There are a few messages waiting for him when he tugs his phone out of his pocket. Some from the groupchat, chatting about mindless things — another from Seonghwa, asking if he’ll be joining them in the library. Then one from Wooyoung, demanding that he meets Hongjoong at his apartment after their study session so they can talk about his problem.
It’s an easy decision after the day he’s had to shoot a message off to Seonghwa about missing their library plans, decisively ignoring Wooyoung for as long as possible — he is not going to spill his guts to Wooyoung about this, he’ll never live it down. If that involves avoiding Seonghwa, too, so be it.
When he arrives home, he changes his laundry over and starts on some of his coursework. He manages to get through it without much distraction, though he isn’t sure about the quality of the work. It makes for a good distraction though, ignoring the concerned message from Seonghwa sitting on his lock screen, too guilty to come up with a plausible lie.
When Seonghwa doesn’t return home in time for dinner, he’s still too afraid to open their message thread. He probably got roped into going to their group’s favorite restaurant once Yunho got off of his library shift. That’s okay with him, he tries to tell himself, as he scrounges up enough ingredients in their kitchen for a halfhearted sandwich.
He’s halfway through it when his roommate finally arrives and Hongjoong is startled, realizing that he’s tipsy.
“Woah. Where have you been?” He asks, eyes wide.
Seonghwa smiles, his lips tilting upward lazily, eyes filled with that intoxicated haze, “got roped into drinks with Woo and Yunho.”
“Damn,” Hongjoong whistles, “on a Thursday?”
“Yup,” Seonghwa still places his shoes in their place on their shared shoe rack beside the door, “you didn’t answer my texts.”
Hongjoong ignores the way his heart flutters when he sees the pout on the man’s lips, “yeah, sorry. I wasn’t really feeling it after class, so I decided to work here.”
“Mm,” he hums, and Hongjoong is frozen in place as the man approaches, sandwich clutched between his fingers. His best friend sidles up behind him, wrapping his arms around Hongjoong’s stomach in a tight back-hug, “missed you tonight. Wasn’t the same without you.”
Hongjoong chuckles nervously, sandwich quickly forgotten, “you’re being dramatic. I’m sure Yun and Wooyoung kept you occupied.”
“No,” Seonghwa slurs, his hands finding a better purchase, flattening against his abdomen, “it would’ve been better with you there.”
Memories of the previous night flash through his head at the familiarity of the position. He feels as if he might combust, like his dick may get rug burn with how quickly he’s hardening in his jeans from the innocent display of affection. It gets terribly difficult to ignore when Seonghwa rubs his cheek against his shoulder, like a feline marking their territory.
“How about we get you some water,” he says shakily, “how much did you drink?”
“A few glasses of wine,” Seonghwa answers, “just stay here for a bit longer.”
Hongjoong tries to extract himself from Seonghwa’s embrace forcibly but he’s effectively caged against the counter with no escape in sight.
“Just a few more minutes,” his roommate insists.
But if he stays here for a few more minutes, he’s sure he won’t be able to hide how turned on he is. And even though Seonghwa is definitely drunk, he would have to be blind not to notice his glaring problem.
“Nope, water. Now, Hwa,” he manages to put as much distance as he can between them in their small, shitty kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water and hands it to his friend, “all of that, drink it.”
Seonghwa sighs dramatically, but thankfully does as he’s told. He places the half empty bottle onto the counter and prowls toward him, but stops when Hongjoong raises his hands in defense. His roommate frowns, “why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not! You just — you should head to bed. Sleep it off,” Hongjoong chuckles, nervously.
“You’ve been acting weird all day. The past few days, actually. Did I do something wrong?” Seonghwa looks genuinely concerned and it makes Hongjoong want to cry, makes him want to explain it away but he can’t find an excuse that would make sense.
Hongjoong shakes his head, “I would never avoid you, Hwa. I haven’t been avoiding you on purpose, I promise.”
“If you need to tell me something, you can. If I did something to bother you…” Seonghwa stares at him intensely, almost like he’s waiting for Hongjoong to confess his sins. Fuck, does he actually know?
He approaches the man slowly, grabbing Seonghwa’s hand and giving it a squeeze, “you didn’t do anything, seriously,” he says as convincingly as possible, because Seonghwa didn’t do anything, it’s all Hongjoong’s fault, “go on, take a shower and head to bed. I’ll leave you some meds for that hangover.”
Seonghwa clutches his hand tightly, scrutinizing Hongjoong’s expression for a long moment before he relents, squeezing his hand back with a sigh, “okay, if you’re sure.”
“I am, trust me. Nothing’s wrong,” Hongjoong lies.
It burns his throat coming up.
His best friend parts with one last squeeze, heading down the hallway for his bathroom. Hongjoong collapses against the counter, tense shoulders sinking in relief. He adjusts himself through the fabric of his trousers, humiliated.
Of course he noticed Hongjoong’s weird behavior, he wasn’t being subtle. Is that why he drank so much tonight, because he thought he’d done something to Hongjoong? His friend never drinks enough on the weekdays to affect the next day, but there’s no doubt he’ll wake up with a headache in the morning, now.
This day has been nothing short of tumultuous and he can’t wait for it to finally end.
He tosses his sandwich, appetite spoiled by the negative thoughts. He heads to his bedroom shortly after, foregoing his night routine save for his sleep medication, before crawling on top of his bare mattress, splayed out underneath a leftover throw blanket that’s much too small for him.
All he can hope is that his brain allows him a break from the dreams, just for tonight, so he can rest his conscience as well as his body.
But of course he wouldn’t be so lucky, because, almost like clockwork, Seonghwa appears in his bedroom.
He didn’t hear him come in this time, only becoming aware of his presence when he feels the bed dip beside him. Seonghwa moves a tad clumsily this time, hands a little less coordinated and careful as they usually are. Usually, he’s conscious of where he touches Hongjoong, like he’s sure to do it in a way that won’t wake him.
However, this time, Seonghwa begins fumbling with his sweats almost immediately, before he even touches Hongjoong, his pants pulled down to midthigh, enough for his halfhard cock to slip out.
It’s then that he reaches for Hongjoong, cold hands groping the backs of his thighs, gripping roughly until he reaches Hongjoong’s boxers.
Not that it takes much anymore, not when it comes to Seonghwa, but with him lying on his stomach, he can fully feel the moment he gets hard.
He’s startled when Seonghwa begins peeling back his underwear, exposing his ass and catching his hardening dick in the fabric. They’re yanked to mid thigh, Seonghwa seemingly uncaring for any discomfort he may feel with the position.
“Fuck,” Seonghwa mutters with a low groan, gripping himself tightly before he rolls his palm over the head of his cock. His eyes are trained on his bare ass, wet bangs hanging over his forehead, like he’d just showered.
Hongjoong frowns, a noise escaping his lips — has Seonghwa spoken in his dreams before? His brain must’ve twisted fantasy with reality with how badly he wants him. Seonghwa never curses.
He can’t stew on the thought very long, not when his attention is pulled toward Seonghwa’s fingers gliding down the cleft of his ass. His roommate doesn’t seem to notice his breathing, continuing on with his own goals in mind.
His head spins with how quickly everything is progressing, with how bold Seonghwa is tonight compared to the previous dreams he’s had.
Seonghwa presses in until he’s straddling the back of Hongjoong’s thighs, caging him in until he feels the heated skin of Seonghwa’s bare cock against his ass.
A gasp catches in his throat. This is new, this is different, and his brain is short circuiting at the newfound sensation.
He supposes now there’s nothing else he can do but enjoy it.
Seonghwa’s teeth catch his lower lip, hips kicking forward in a slow grind against him. A moan bubbles out of his chest as he tosses his head back at the feeling, like he’s finally giving in to something he’s wanted for so long.
Even for Hongjoong, who receives little to no stimulation in this position, his body is burning from the inside out, his groin clenching with want.
God, the could, he thinks he would beg, allow Seonghwa to take whatever he wants from him. He needs Seonghwa to touch him, to roll him on his back and grind their cocks together. He struggles with himself, fighting to utter a word, to move his weighted, paralyzed limbs, but he can’t, and he nearly cries with how desperately he needs it.
Seonghwa places a cupped hand against his lower back, picking up the pace. The tip of his cock slides into the crevice with each thrust of his hips, dirtying Hongjoong’s skin with his precum. A salacious thought ripples through him, wondering how easily it would be for Seonghwa to fuck him like this, with his body so relaxed, so pliant — God, Hongjoong wishes he would slip right into him.
Seonghwa chases his own release greedily, no care for Hongjoong’s pleasure, using his body as nothing more than a toy. His roommate hisses out another garbled curse, devolving into a moan that’s much too loud for something as forbidden as this.
Too soon, hot cum splatters over his backside, Seonghwa’s groan trembling through clenched teeth as he pants. He’s slow to move away, almost as if he’s coming into the realization of what he’s done.
Hongjoong is still reeling, brain foggy from desire and frustration, in disbelief that Seonghwa had come so quickly — that he’d climaxed grinding against Hongjoong’s ass.
Fuck, no! He struggles as sleep prods at the corners of his mind with familiarity, attempting to claw through the darkness that frames his vision. He wants to wake up and beg Seonghwa to stay and finish him off, too, but he’s helpless, unable to do anything else than memorize Seonghwa’s fleeting touches as he succumbs to sleep.
Hongjoong wakes again with a jolt.
He feels lethargic, limbs with that lingering heaviness as he rolls onto his back hastily, but despite that, his mind is alive and with the horrible sense that something is wrong.
He chucks off his blanket, met with the familiar sight of a wet patch on his grey boxers. He isn’t hard this time, no, it’s worse — he’d actually came in his pants.
He’s the worst, the actual worst.
Not wishing to dwell any longer than he has with soiled underwear, he stumbles out of bed. The fabric clings uncontrollably to his skin as he slides them off of his thighs, allowing them to pool around his ankles as he searches for his often moving laundry hamper.
He picks up the dirty clothing, absentmindedly tugging his sleep shirt down so he has a bit of modesty, and that’s when his hand touches something on the back of his shirt.
He frowns, dropping his hand away before glancing down. It’s tacky, something that’s been slowly hardening but not quite had the chance to dry.
Hongjoong’s stomach climbs into his throat as he realizes with horror, is that fucking cum?
He reaches for his shirt again, contorting so he can catch a look at whatever has accumulated on the fabric. It’s barely noticeable on the white shirt, but he can see the faint hint of a stain. That’s when he looks down at his boxers, and as gross as it is to examine his own underwear, there are similar patches on the backside.
Confusion morphs his already horrified expression as his brain struggles to make sense of what he’s seeing.
This can’t be his. There’s no way that his cum has made its way onto the backside of his clothing. But this doesn’t make any sense, who’s else could it be?
The dream comes back to him then, his heart rate picking up as his brain slowly processes what happened. The Seonghwa in his dream rutted against his ass, the slick of his precum making the slide easy against his skin before he shot his cum all over his body.
But that wasn’t real. That was Hongjoong’s brain coming up with fantasies that would never come true.
His denial becomes more difficult to uphold the longer he stares at the soiled clothing, the stark realization that maybe … none of it had been a dream.
“Holy fucking shit,” he exclaims, tossing off his tee shirt and chucking the clothing in the corner of his room, staring at it like it’s burnt him.
There’s no way, there’s no way that his roommate, that his long term crush has actually been sneaking into his room to masturbate on him, rutting against him like a toy. Not sweet, congenial Seonghwa.
But now all of the conversations he’s had with his roommate are making sense, the curiosity he’d given Hongjoong when it came to how his sleeping medication was working, the smiles he’d received when he told the man he slept soundly through the night even when he hadn’t. The overly affectionate touches he’d given Hongjoong last night, his inhibitions lowered because of the alcohol. Could that be why Seonghwa, who was usually so meticulous when he came, left evidence this time?
Or did Seonghwa want him to find out?
He’s too worked up, too desperate for answers, he can’t even bother with a shower before he’s redressing and slipping out of his bedroom.
Hongjoong storms into Seonghwa’s bedroom, nearly colliding with the doorjam in his haste. His friend is still asleep, halfway underneath his blanket as the edge of it hangs over the side of his mattress.
He doesn’t think, not like he should — maybe he should handle this with more sensitivity, wait for the right moment instead of accusing him, but right now all he needs is answers.
He pulls the duvet off of Seonghwa, flinging it onto the floor before grabbing the man’s ankle and yanking. Seonghwa immediately stirs, face contorting for a brief moment before his eyes pop open. Hongjoong tugs at him again and this time Seonghwa’s groggy gaze meets his.
“What—Hongjoong, what are you doing?” Seonghwa asks gruffly, rubbing his head as he leans up on his elbows. He winces, likely hungover from his actions of the previous night — probably a bit sleep deprived, too, given his late night rendezvous, “did I oversleep?”
“Did you jerk off in my bed last night?” Hongjoong blurts, unable to think of a gentle way to phrase the question, not when his heart is pounding so hard against his ribcage.
Seonghwa freezes, his face slackening in shock at the accusation, “I—what?”
“You heard me,” Hongjoong stands tall — there’s no going back now, “did you jerk off in my bed?”
“No—“
“Okay, so somehow my cum got on the back of my boxers? And my shirt?”
His voice is harsh, startlingly so, but he can’t help it, not when there are so many emotions swirling through him, so many feelings regarding the situation. However, he knows that his insistence isn’t coming from a place of disgust or violation, not as he knows it probably should — it’s solely from a point of desperation, of the need to hear Seonghwa tell him the truth.
“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa swallows thickly, sitting upright. He drops his head in his hands and doesn’t continue, not until Hongjoong prods him for more.
“What? Say what you want to say, Seonghwa,” he sighs, annoyance flooding him. He’s so lost in his own thoughts that almost doesn’t realize that Seonghwa is shaking, or no, he’s — “are you crying?”
“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa blubbers, looking up at Hongjoong with a reddened face and wet eyes, tears tracking down his cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Hongjoong-ah. I’m disgusting — I’m such a horrible person.”
“Hey, wait, no—“
“I understand if you want me to move out. I’ll pack up my stuff today and be gone by tomorrow, okay? I don’t know why I did it, I just —“
Hongjoong crawls onto the mattress toward him, his hands landing on Seonghwa’s shoulders to shake him. The movement is rougher than he intended, but it has the effect he was looking for. He can’t help but stare for a long moment at his friend’s flushed, tear streaked face, and God, is he pretty, even while crying like this.
“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa whispers again.
“Why did you do it?” Hongjoong asks softly, searching the man’s face intently.
“I didn’t —“
“Why did you do it, Seonghwa?”
Seonghwa’s lower lip trembles as he wipes underneath his eye, “I don’t know. I just — it was impulsive, I couldn’t stop myself.”
“But why?”
“Do I have to say it? Just kick me out already,” he replies miserably.
“Because I need to hear you say it.”
His friend takes a long moment to collect his thoughts, sighing heavily, “I’ve had a crush on you for a while and I know, it’s probably so uncomfortable for you to hear after finding out that I — that I was doing what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know why — ”
“So you never wanted me to find out?” Hongjoong asks, leaning closer.
Seonghwa’s eyes widen at their new proximity, not understanding Hongjoong’s intentions, “about my crush? No, I thought — I thought it would upset you —“
Hongjoong surges forward and kisses the excuse off of Seonghwa’s lips. The man gasps into his mouth and Hongjoong snatches it up greedily. The kiss tastes salty from Seonghwa’s tears, his skin wet underneath Hongjoong’s fingertips as he cups his face.
He pulls away, just enough to ask, “do I look upset to you?”
Seonghwa’s pupils are blown, staring up at him with disbelief as his lips glisten with spit, “what is happening?”
Hongjoong giggles, “we’re both fucking idiots.”
This time Seonghwa kisses him and neither of them want to be the one to break first. Hongjoong presses in closer, climbing clumsily into Seonghwa’s lap, straddling his thighs in an effort to fuse as tightly as possible.
Seonghwa touches him more conservatively than Hongjoong thought he would now with the explicit consent, considering how daring the man was previously. He seems nervous, almost unsure of himself. Hongjoong can’t have that — not when he’s waited so long, especially not when he’s already witnessed the kind of pervert Seonghwa truly is.
Hongjoong pants, tugging Seonghwa’s hands until they’re placed firmly in the crook of his waist, “how long?”
“What?”
“How long have you been sneaking into my room?” He asks, huskily, “how long have you been a pervert?”
Seonghwa makes a pained noise, “Joong—“
“Tell me, Hwa,” Hongjoong urges, trailing kisses down Seonghwa’s throat, teeth teasing at the sensitive skin until he feels the man shiver, “wanna hear how bad you wanted me. I wanna know that you wanted me so much that you’d do anything for it.”
His friend, unsurprisingly, doesn’t respond, not immediately. It isn’t until Hongjoong gets too impatient and starts to grind down into his lap, along with a particularly harsh bite to his clavicle that leaves the man gasping.
His grip tightens and when he finally responds, it isn’t with words. Seonghwa’s restraint slips as he pulls Hongjoong into another kiss. It’s messier, deeper than before as he kicks into his mouth, practically devouring Hongjoong with a fervor of a man who is finally allowed something denied for too long. Hongjoong’s head spins dangerously, disoriented by the sudden change, that he barely registers when Seonghwa rolls Hongjoong onto his back.
His chest heaves, staring up at Seonghwa like he’s something to worship as the man strips off his shirt, allowing himself a full look of his muscular chest.
“Tell me,” Hongjoong demands softly, almost pleading, “I want to hear it.”
“God, I want you so bad, it drives me crazy,” he surges down to kiss him again. He gives up on trying to get Seonghwa to voice his feelings when his actions show them so well.
They lose their clothing in record time.
There’s no time for foreplay, no time for patience and playful touches, neither of them with the patience for it. It’s all hot and messy, grappling on for one another to keep close, their shared desperation.
“Lube. Where is it?” Hongjoong grunts, smacking Seonghwa's shoulder when he gives him a bite that matches the blooming mark on Seonghwa’s collarbone.
Seonghwa reaches for his nightstand, grabbing for a bottle of lube that’s nearly empty. The man meets Hongjoong’s raised brow with an exasperated look, “don’t say anything.”
Hongjoong hides his grin poorly, “I wasn’t.”
“I thought you’d be less bratty in bed,” Seonghwa tells him, not as meek as before, the man obviously gaining confidence. Hongjoong practically trembles with anticipation just seeing the vicious liquid coating his fingers, “it’s surprising.”
“Yeah, well, you’re used to having me when I’m sleeping.” The man pauses, guilt crashing over his expression and Hongjoong rushes to soothe it, “you might’ve unlocked a new kink for me. But I think I only like it if it’s you.”
Seonghwa releases a heavy breath, a smile crooking on his lips as he shakes his head, “you can’t say that to me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll believe it, Joong,” the pads of his fingers press against his rim, petting the sensitive skin, “I’ll think you want me back.”
“I do, you idiot,” he hisses as Seonghwa sinks a finger into him, the appendage wiggling inside of him in search of his prostate. He rolls his hips, in no mood for teasing, “hurry up. Just do enough.”
Seomghwa hums, “you sure?”
“I told you, I like you, too. I want to do this with you. We’ll have another chance for foreplay, I want you to fuck me. Now,” he tells him firmly, as if his thighs aren’t already shivering from the feeling of a second finger threatening to breach him, “you’ve gotta make it up to me, you know. Considering how you left me hard every time.”
“I don’t think you had that big of an issue with that though.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His words almost get garbled with a moan as two fingers begin to pet along his walls.
Seonghwa chuckles, “since when do you do laundry before class?”
I fucking knew it. He can’t come up with a scathing reply, embarrassment turning molten with pleasure as the man finally presses against his prostate.
He urges Seonghwa on quickly, Seonghwa allowing him another finger before he’s practically clawing at the man’s pants to finally see his cock up close.
He’s more than pleased to find out that Seonghwa’s dick is just as big as it is in his hazy memories of those nights.
“I’m gonna suck you off next time,” Hongjoong promises, pulling a strained noise from Seonghwa when Hongjoong pushes him onto his back.
He climbs onto him, straddling him once more. Seonghwa stares up at him with such an emotion in his eyes that he almost gets self conscious.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Seonghwa hands palm his thighs, squeezing, “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Hongjoong smiles, laying his hands over Seonghwa’s, “I think you’re just obsessed with my thighs.”
“That, too. And your ass, god, Hongjoong.”
He rocks his hips, his stomach flaring up with warmth. God, he loves the way Seonghwa’s compliments make him feel — like he’s the only person on Earth, like he’s Seonghwa’s favorite person. How he had been so oblivious to the man’s crush, he doesn’t know.
But there’s only so many heartfelt words that Hongjoong can stomach before he feels the need to deflect. He decides to be a little mean, if only to get the reaction he’s looking for.
“Did you get off on it?” He asks as he grinds particularly slowly against him.
Seonghwa’s teeth find his lower lip, “what?”
“Thinking about how I had no idea what you were doing? Did you think about it when you looked at me? When we sat together for coffee, did you think about how you touched me while jerking off and I had no idea?”
“Shit, Hongjoong,” he gasps at the feeling, or at the words, maybe a combination of both, he isn’t sure, “you remember what happened?”
Hongjoong grips the base of Seonghwa’s dick, teasingly stroking him, “yeah, I thought they were vivid dreams at first, maybe a side effect of my medication. Like my brain was tormenting me with you.”
Seonghwa groans when his palm sweeps around his leaking tip, “why would it do that?”
“Because I’ve had a crush on you since we met. Have you even been listening to me?” Hongjoong hisses, squeezing him roughly, “did you think about it when we were together?”
“Yes,” Seonghwa admits, fumbling for words, “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was relieved when you didn’t show up last night, I was going crazy with how bad I wanted you.”
“That’s why you left the evidence, huh? Why you rutted up against me all desperate last night?”
“Yes,” Seonghwa moans as Hongjoong finally sinks down on his cock.
Seonghwa’s hands tighten hard enough to leave marks when Hongjoong’s ass meets the man’s hips. Hongjoong pants heavily as he struggles to adjust to the size, the burn almost overwhelming the pleasure that’s buzzing up his spine. He swears he can feel Seonghwa in his stomach, that if he maneuvered a certain way, he may be able to see the impression of him through his tummy.
“Can I move?” Seonghwa’s voice is thin, like he’s barely able to hold himself back.
He shakes his head, dazed, “not yet,” he breathes, swiveling his hips as he tries to find the best position that doesn’t feel like he’s being split open by Seonghwa’s dick, “I wanna fuck myself on your cock.”
“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa warns, palms sliding up to the curve of his waist, “I think you’ve teased me enough.”
Hongjoong huffs out a laugh, disbelief coloring his overheated cheeks, “I’ve been teasing you? You haven’t seen anything yet — shit!”
He’s barely able to finish his thought, not when Seonghwa plants his feet into the mattress and thrusts, bouncing Hongjoong on his lap. The feeling is otherworldly, overwhelming as all hell, with how sensitive and underprepared he is.
Hongjoong collapses forward, unable to stop Seonghwa from doing what he pleases, not when his cock feels like it’s mapping out every inch of his body with those short, swallow thrusts. But God, does he love this side of his roommate, of his best friend, the side he never knew about — the part that is selfish, greedy, who uses Hongjoong’s body to get off with no worry about Hongjoong’s own pleasure.
Maybe Seonghwa did unlock a new kinky side of himself that he never knew about. Or maybe he’s just obsessed with everything Seonghwa does.
He moans, long and whiny in Seonghwa’s ear, unbidden, and that only encourages the man to fuck him harder.
“Fuck, Joong. You feel so good,” Seonghwa groans, blunt nails sinking into his skin as he moves Hongjoong into his thrusts.
Hongjoong sinks his fingers into the man’s hair, yanking him into a rough kiss that devolves into spit and teeth. Seonghwa devours the gasps and cries he releases when he nails his prostate, “I wanted you to fuck me last night so bad.”
Seonghwa grunts, lust-filled gaze meeting his, “yeah?”
“Thought about how easy it would’ve been for you to take me. Fuck, I wanted it so bad,” he cries, forehead colliding with the man’s collarbone at a particularly hard thrust that has him seeing stars.
Seonghwa doesn’t warn him at all when he pulls out, much less when Hongjoong is unceremoniously pushed off of him. He faceplants into a pillow, allowing him the brief whiff of Seonghwa’s sandalwood shampoo before lifting his head with a noise of confusion.
“Does this remind you of last night?” Seonghwa murmurs as he drapes himself over Hongjoong, his tongue sliding against the cuff of his ear before his teeth find purchase. Seonghwa grinds against his ass, teasing him unrelentingly until Hongjoong whines in dismay. When Seonghwa finally sinks into him again, he has no time to prepare.
While this position isn’t as overwhelming as the previous, the way Seonghwa fucks him is enough to compensate. It feels like every time Seonghwa thrusts into him, his brain is being scrambled, every logical thought, all of his dispositions, they’re all gone — fucked right out of him.
“I thought about it, too,” Seonghwa admits, kissing the spot behind his ear, rolling his hips salaciously in a brief interlude of hard thrusts, “I could tell how badly your body wanted it. Your little hole kept clenching.”
Hongjoong scoffs breathlessly, ignoring how he knows Seonghwa can feel him clenching in reaction to the words, “you’re so fucking dirty, good god.”
“Would you like that, Joong?” Seonghwa continues, like he can interpret Hongjoong’s internal dialogue, “you want me to fuck you awake every morning? Might be a little more effective than that shitty alarm clock you have.”
Hongjoong cries out, back bowing as Seonghwa lifts his hips forcefully to a better position. The way the man’s thrusts constantly batters his prostate, overwhelming pleasure assaulting his senses as his orgasm approaches. He claws at the sheets, trying to garble out some kind of warning that he’s close, but he’s sure Seonghwa knows, given how his own moans grow louder the more Hongjoong’s body trembles on his cock.
“Please, please,” Hongjoong’s hand reaches back to grasp Seonghwa’s wrist, the same that is gripping his waist so tightly, like he’s afraid Hongjoong might disappear. He idly hopes that Seonghwa will leave bruises, a souvenir, to remember their true first time together.
“What do you want, baby?” Seonghwa purrs, slowing his thrusts, which only makes Hongjoong complain and try to swat at the man to get him going again, “what is it? Am I being too rough?”
He’s teasing him, he isn’t concerned at all. There’s no doubt he can tell Hongjoong is enjoying the way he’s fucking him, and he knows exactly what Hongjoong wants.
“Fuck you,” Hongjoong groans, contorting to look over his shoulder at the man. He hopes his expression is scathing, but with the way Seonghwa’s eyes darken with lust, he doesn’t think it translates well, “I need to come. Make me come, Hwa.”
Seonghwa doesn’t listen, not immediately. Instead he turns Hongjoong onto his back, maneuvering himself between his legs before shoving his knees to his chest. Hongjoong begins to think he may have some sort of fetish, the way he gets distracted by the smooth skin of his thighs again.
“Stop manhandling me and fuck me,” Hongjoong complains, trying to pull him closer.
“You like it, though,” Seonghwa smiles sharply, and Hongjoong has enough time to swallow his spit before Seonghwa is pushing back in and kissing him breathless once more.
He fucks him hard and fast, a hand wrapping itself around Hongjoong’s cock to stroke him. Hongjoong can’t stop the sounds being punched out of him, growing higher in pitch the closer he comes to his peak. He’s leaking all over his stomach, all over Seonghwa’s fingers, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when Seonghwa’s cock seems to carve him out so well.
“I’m close,” he gasps, sinking his fingers into Seonghwa’s hair. He yanks a little too roughly, but it doesn’t put him off, not at all. Seonghwa grinds against him with a moan, the head settling diligently against his prostate.
With that, and the hand around him, the moment Seonghwa sinks his teeth into the skin of his shoulder, he feels like his soul is taken from his body with how hard he comes. Vision whiting out, body trembling, he can only lay there and take what Seonghwa gives him as he rides out his orgasm while the man chases his own.
It doesn’t take long for him to reach it, not with how hard Hongjoong clenches down on him, overstimulation creeping through him the longer Seonghwa goes on.
He moans into Hongjoong’s neck, dick twitching as he comes deep inside of him. Hongjoong pets the back of his neck as they both come down from their peaks of pleasure, sweaty and awfully satisfied.
“You’re killing me,” Hongjoong eventually murmurs, Seonghwa’s sharp elbow digging into his ribcage from where the man has collapsed on top of him.
He shifts, mumbling a quiet apology. He extracts himself from Hongjoong’s sensitive hole, shushing his whines of discomfort before leaving briefly for a wet cloth. Hongjoong hears him return, arm thrown over his eyes, still trying to quiet his racing heart.
“You don’t have to,” he tells Seonghwa, feeling the man crawl back to him to clean him up.
Seonghwa chuckles quietly, “of course I do.”
Hongjoong sits through the humiliation of Seonghwa cleaning most of the cum and lube from his prone body, helping Hongjoong back into his clothes before doing the same and settling down next to him.
Neither of them speak for a long, uncomfortable moment after that, only stirring nerves in Hongjoong’s stomach because he isn’t sure what to say now.
“You don’t regret it, do you?” Seonghwa finally asks.
Hongjoong removes his arm, blinking furiously to see Seonghwa clearly. The man is staring at him intently, as if he can attempt to predict what Hongjoong is feeling and prepare for the worst when it comes.
He rolls onto his side, wrapping an arm around Seonghwa’s waist to pull him closer. He immediately cradles Hongjoong to his chest and he can feel how quick his pulse is, “of course not. I don’t regret it at all. I told you before, I like you, Seonghwa,” he tells him honestly, “I guess I just … don’t know what this means for us.”
“What do you want it to mean?”
Hongjoong glances up at him with narrowed eyes, “what do you want it to mean?”
“I asked first,” Seonghwa huffs a laugh, before continuing, eyebrows pinched, “I hope this means we’ll go on a date. Maybe see where it takes us from here.”
Hongjoong hides his smile in Seonghwa’s chest before the man can see how wide it is, tossing his thigh over the man’s hip to wedge himself closer, “guess that is the next reasonable step. How about lunch?”
“That place you like down the street?”
The way his body fills with so much adoration, he thinks he may explode with how much he loves Park Seonghwa. He’s always loved Seonghwa, whether the man knew the way he loved him or not, it’s just now that he can show him properly.
“It’s a date.”