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The late afternoon hour does little to nothing to ebb the sweltering heat sitting in the air of the tiny cramped room, small but mighty saving grace being the moderately sized fan slowly rotating back and forth to break the humidity latching on to the air stubbornly. The small clicks of the fan as it turns to and from would annoy Jongwoo if not for the small comfort it brings him as he attempts to ignore the layer of sweat refusing to abandon his skin as he wishes to whatever power above to grant him a break from the smoldering heat plaguing him inside and out.
To his left Moonjo lays still, so still Jongwoo would think he died of heat stroke if not for the way his eyes seem to stare into nothing. Even with weather this torturous, the older man chooses to dress himself like he’s fighting off any chance of being affected by cool air, the long sleeved black sweater pissing Jongwoo off to no end. How does a human man show no sign of discomfort or irritability with the sun beaming down like a punishment sent straight from the devil himself?
Literal hell on earth and he knows there’s absolutely no way the older isn’t melting under all those dark layers. But as it stands, as far as humans go, Jongwoo still questions what that even means, his grasp on humanity long having slipped from his hands, and as it pertains to Moonjo, if that even applies to him.
If it ever did.
With a strained sigh he sits up using his shirt to wipe at the pooling sweat gathering on his forehead as he looks over at the man laying next to him, whose eyes must’ve grown bored with whatever he was staring at because now he’s staring at Jongwoo, the younger shivering at the way he tends to always open up Jongwoo at his rawest form, something he’ll never get used to no matter how long he keeps Moonjo around, trailing him like an easily agitated stray if he’s provoked enough. He scoffs at him, nerves already in a frenzy over the unrelenting heat.
“You stare too much. You don’t ever say anything, you just stare. You don’t even blink when you do it. Fucking weirdo.” He mumbles the last part, trying to turn his body to match with the path of the fan, agitation only growing. “And could you turn the fan? I know temperature is foreign concept to you but I’m sweating like crazy over here. God, how do you stand being in that stupid shirt in this heat? I’m getting sun poisoning just looking at you.”
Instead of complying to his request, Moonjo chuckles. The soft, almost patronizing kind that makes Jongwoo want to take another go at murdering him again. He thinks he can succeed this time. He snaps his head towards Moonjo, eyebrows raised in irritation and question.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing really, I just enjoy how easy irritability seems to come to you. It suits you well, jagi.”
“You’re so weird, I might actually be tempted to kill you where you lay.” Moonjo fully laughs at that body turning eyes going soft, with a smile gracing his face almost teasing, looking at Jongwoo like he’s the purest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, something almost akin to love if he ever knew it. It sickens and thrills Jongwoo all at once, and it irks him that he can’t tell which feeling is more prominent.
“You’re threatening me with a good time, but your wish is my command.” And finally, to Jongwoo’s pleasure, he moves the fan to where it finally provides a decent breeze, and he all but melts at the immediate relief coating his skin. His eyes trail Moonjo again and the relief is short lived at the realization that the older has not broken a sweat the entire time they’ve been cooped up in this diabolically tiny room with a barely working fan on a hot summer day, and that simple observation overrides whatever peace he was feeling just moments before.
“Okay what is your problem? You wear absolute bullshit and don’t have a drop of sweat anywhere on you. What the hell?” Moonjo just shrugs, like being aware of how his own body functions is simply above him, like he couldn’t care less about figuring it out any time soon for that matter. “I simply don’t, I don’t bother with the weather and it reciprocates.” Jongwoo just blinks.
“You want me to believe you, of all people, have some mystical, unspoken eerie agreement with the weather? I know everyone else who could stand you is dead, but lie to someone else. Just lose the shirt, you’ve gotta be dying.”
“Are you propositioning me?”
“I- that’s not what- you know what, if you want to die from heat stroke be my guest.”
Moonjo attempts to cuddle closer, reveling in the verbal dance he tends to do where Jongwoo’s nerves hang by a thread in his body. Jongwoo grimaces at the sudden closeness and the audacity the older has at assuming he’s at all up for any physical contact. “Do you mind? It feels like death in here and you want to touch me I can’t believe-“
“If you’re so worried about the heat why don’t you lose a layer or two? Then our closeness wouldn’t be such a problem.”
“Now who’s propositioning who?” Jongwoo throws back, lying to himself that he doesn’t enjoy the banter they tend to have between each other, the confirmation that for better or for worse the man laying next to him is his only reprieve he had in the world, as fucked up as ot was. He wasn’t gonna give Moonjo the satisfaction of letting him know that, let alone dwelling on it.
“Do you ever get sick of being a fucking creep?”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“What are you, twelve?”
Moonjo doesn’t offer him an answer just that stare again, amusement painting his face, triumph flowing through him the way his antics have finally chipped away at Jongwoo’s patience , knowing he’s won. It makes Jongwoo furious that he’s always caught in a game of cat and mouse no matter how small or seemingly insignificant . He’s always going to give in to Moonjo even if he thinks making him work for it changes the outcome. He likes the chase, he likes the devotion Moonjo exudes. He likes that he’s used to feeling trapped now even if it only offers him endless nightmares. He wants to kill himself.
“I hate you.” Jongwoo wants the bite behind it to show on Moonjo, any reaction to show that Jongwoo has the upper hand in some way. Moonjo isn’t going to give him false hope like that. Jongwoo shifts to rid himself of his shorts, left in only his underwear and the thin white shirt he wore in hopes of fighting off heat. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face, slowing at his nape, and lets out a gasp when he feels the slide of something firm and wet against where his neck and collarbone meet.
A tongue.
The movement continues once again and it’s then that Jongwoo pieces together that Moonjo is licking at the sweat gathering down his neck. It makes Jongwoo’s inside turn in what he thinks is disgust at first, but as the older continues he soon finds him enjoying the sudden attack to his skin. He enjoys it so much in fact that he doesn’t notice that at some point Moonjo has changed their positions, going from being semi upright to Moonjo on top of him, unrelenting in his current task.
Jongwoo feels the all too familiar cold skin that viciously clings to Moonjo against his thighs, fingers dancing across his skin in slow form caresses working up and down, back and forth, traveling up through his underwear and back down to the back of his knees. Jongwoo’s brain goes fuzzy after a while. His body responds to the other man in body language alone, hoping the way it’s reacting to the other’s touch communicates what his mouth can’t verbally. The worry of not being verbally responsive quickly dissipates when he feels a hand around his jaw, fingers working his mouth open until he feels the slide of another tongue against his.
They both let out a simultaneous moan as their bodies settle in closer together, hips lining up to start chasing a shared friction lighting a rapidly growing spark through both of their groins. Jongwoo feels the way Moonjo hardens against him and it takes everything in him not to chase it with the eagerness of a needy virgin. They’ve done this before, touched each other, explored every line of skin inside and out of the other’s body, but something about today. Maybe the literal and sensual heat both collided in a way that has everything sizzling to the surface with Jongwoo just now catching on to the mischief his body was ready to unleash, his brain feeling betrayed by his cunt leading his body, steps ahead of any organ used to maneuver around overwhelming situations, logic and restraint no longer being of any use to him. A prisoner to his own desires.
A particular thrust against his crotch from the older has Jongwoo letting out a high pitched whine as he feels the beginning of his release coating his panties. Moonjo seems to catch on to where his thoughts have escaped to in his foggy state of arousal, hands previously preoccupied elsewhere now pressing and stroking at the damp spot covering his underwear. Moonjo kisses at Jongwoo’s neck again, sweat and saliva mixing, wetting and drying his skin as the other man plays with his folds, clear to Jongwoo that Moonjo is determined to finger him through his panties.
The realization causes him to moan again into Moonjo’s ear which causes the older to bite down against his skin. Hard enough to bruise really deep but not deep enough to draw blood, playing it close though. Moonjo licks at the blossoming mark taking form and plants a soft kiss to it. The act is a new level of intimate and contrastingly gentle compared to the welcomed assault against his neck.
“I want you to cum just like this. Unable to do anything but make a mess of yourself.” It’s said between pants growing needier and needier. Jongwoo feels himself start to rut against the the fingers between his legs, the give of the material against Moonjo’s not deterring him from attempting to finger fuck him like his life depends on it and knowing Moonjo it very well be true.
The tight coil of arousal settled deep within Jongwoo seems to unravel before he can get a grasp on anything tangible to ground himself, cum soaking his panties as he’s finally pushed over the edge. His head buzzes as he comes down from his post-orgasmic haze and works to slow his breathing. Once he’s finally managed to get his bearings again, he notices the movement against his inner thigh, Moonjo rock hard, seemingly painfully so, his bare cock frantically working against the meatier part of Jongwoo’s leg. Moreso Jongwoo’s thigh.
“I tried to stop myself but you looked heaven sent and I couldn’t resist. You just feel so good.” The last sentence is barely heard over a rough moan leaving Moonjo as he continues his efforts to milk himself on every part of Jongwoo’s upper thigh. Jongwoo hold his close as he adds to the mess between them, heavy pants and warm breath being felt against his ear and neck as Moonjo finally ceases the movement of his hips.
They both stay quiet after that, laying together and settling their breaths, that click of the fan blowing over them bringing Jongwoo back down to earth. Jongwoo makes an attempt to move Moonjo off of him to do some semblance of clean up as the feeling of dried cum and sweat, a grim reminder that they’re still in a boiling oven despite the sun having set almost fully, but is stopped when a hand to his waist tightens and keeps him from moving.
Moonjo turns to him, face being illuminated by something akin to relaxation. An expression still unknown to Jongwoo regarding the older man, it would startle him if it didn’t get lost under the soft all consuming feeling of contentment having set in Jongwoo’s bones.
“At some point we’re gonna have to get up. I don’t feel like falling asleep in this mess.” Moonjo acknowledges his soft firm demand with a hum before curling into him like a koala and nuzzling into his side. The question of whether this being next to him is capable of actually resembling some normal human-like qualities. Not that it matters, that it ever will. Jongwoo accepts that this is his life now, not the physical space in this room or his place in the world, but the man by his side, slowly succumbing to unconsciousness despite Jongwoo’s previous request.
The two lay in silence, letting the last signs of daylight slowly drift into the silent, motionless early hours of the night. Moonjo will deal with Jongwoo’s anger at letting him fall asleep in their shared filth later, used to his anger, almost giddy at once again being the sole witness to the real Jongwoo, the Jongwoo who no longer has to hide or suppress who he is anymore. Hasn’t in a while now. Moonjo sleeps soundly and Jongwoo slowly follows.
The two may not have a place in the regular world anymore, everything about them individually and collectively unable to force themselves to fit into a puzzle they don’t even share the same box with, but Jongwoo doesn’t mind that. He’s long accepted that. He wouldn’t do anything to change it either.
And as he finally drifts, face fitting into the crook of Moonjo’s neck, he feels himself pleased at what his new forever is.