Chapter Text
Suho’s knee nudges Sieun’s legs apart, creating a space between his plush thighs where his large hands are splayed. Soft breaths fall against his neck as Suho leaves a cluster of open-mouthed kisses, suckling and nipping at soft skin and drawing quiet gasps from the boy.
Sieun mewls when Suho nips at a spot on his throat, his head lolling back to grant more access to his friend. His neck begins to bloom with the beginnings of scattered bruises, deep reds and purples that will blend into one. His lips trail up and over his chin until they slot against his own, moving with a sense of urgency, like they’ve been starved.
Tongues intertwine messily, and hands wonder just the same – Suho’s slide down Sieun’s thighs and stop just under his knees, pulling the latter closer to his body, their crotches almost flush against one another.
“Tell me what you want Sieun-ah, tell me and it’s all yours.” His hands slip under the hem of Sieun’s shirt, fingers barely skimming his sides.
“I want you to touch me, Suho-yah.”
Sieun eyes flutter open and he lays unthinking for a moment before he jolts up, the memories of his dream clouding his tired mind.
“What the fuck.” His mind races as he whispers to himself, hand blindly searching for his phone in the pitch black of his room until his fingers finally graze the device. His eyes squint at the sudden light flooding his vision as he looks at the time on his screen that reads four twenty-two in the morning, great, he thinks.
His attention quicky turns to the very obvious problem he sports between his legs, gaze landing on the tent in his pyjama pants accompanied by a small wet patch.
Whatever, it’ll go away eventually, he thinks, shuffling back under his covers and turning onto his side. He closes his eyes in hopes of slipping back into his slumber but his mind flashes with the scene from his dream and his cock throbs between his legs. He huffs, turning onto his other side where he attempts once more to sleep, but to no avail.
He turns onto his back, eyes fixated on the ceiling as his mind races.
What the hell was that dream?
Arousal sits low in his stomach and he reluctantly accepts that it’s not going away, he’s going to have to deal with it himself.
He doesn’t really know where to start, he’s always so preoccupied with studying that he’s never really touched himself before; sure, he’s had his fair share of boners, but he either waits for them to go away or he lets a cold shower fix it. This is not going to be fixed by one of his usual solutions, he feels it in the way it throbs painfully in its constriction, tip leaking furiously.
“Shit.” His hand cups himself hesitantly, applying the most feather light pressure to his hard on, feeling the way it twitches under his palm.
He blows a puff of air from his mouth as he allows his hand to tease the waistband of his pants, fingers dipping under to find contact with his wet tip. He wraps his hand around his cock unsurely and pulls it free from its restraints - it sits hot and heavy in his hold, unfamiliar.
He gives an experimental stroke, eyes fluttering shut at the soft wave of pleasure.
Okay that’s not so bad.
Then he braves himself to tighten his grip, just slightly, but it’s enough to elicit a gasp, his hand slapping over his mouth in horror.
Suho sleeps in the room just across from Sieun’s, just feet away from where Sieun lays sprawled in his bed, softly fisting his cock.
Shit, what if he hears? No, it’s four in the morning he’s definitely asleep. He overthinks before he can stop it, nerves wracking his body.
“Fuck-” He moans into the hand clamped tight around his mouth, the other setting a steady pace around his cock, sliding over his tip with every pump. It feels good, but it’s too dry, and so he brings his hand to his mouth, spitting in his palm before resuming his ministrations.
“Oh fuck,” His eyes roll back in pleasure, his hand quickening in pace, sliding up and down his cock with more ease.
He does feel slightly guilty, but his mind is flashing with images of Suho, images of the taller looming over him with his broad frame, his hands, his arms.
After lots of physical therapy and a successful recovery, Suho had made it his mission to get back in shape quickly, and boy had he.
Sieun thinks about his strong arms, how easy it would be for Suho to lift and manhandle him, how every shirt fits snugly around his biceps. He thinks about his hands, big and rough, how they would feel on his body, if it was his hand touching him instead of his own. He imagines his lips on his neck, on his jaw and against his own and it slips out before he can catch it, Suho’s name slipping into the quiet of his room.
“S-Suho-yah…” His voice cracks around a whimper, teeth biting down into the side of his hand. His hips buck up to meet his strokes and he starts pumping desperately, feeling a burn in his abdomen. A whine catches in his throat when he runs his thumb over his sensitive tip, a bead of pre-come following.
“Please, Suho.”
***
Suho stirs in his sleep, the faint sound of a gasp reaching his ears. He sits up in his bed and rubs his eyes with a quiet groan, reaching over to check the time – four twenty-six. He concludes he must’ve heard nothing, about to lay back down when he freezes.
“Fuck-” He definitely heard something that time, was it Sieun? Is he okay? Was he having a nightmare?
He listens carefully, ears trained on the faint sounds coming from the room across the corridor. He hears a few quiet breaths, almost sounding muffled and then - did Sieun just spit?
“Oh fuck,”
Oh. Oh. Suho feels heat rush to his face. He’s not- there’s no way he’s doing what I think he is, right?
Theres no mistaking the hushed and muffled moans he hears next. Fuck. He feels blood rush to his groin, his cock twitching in interest.
He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But he can’t bring himself to stop his hand from leading to the tent growing in his sweatpants, palming the bulge hesitantly. He hisses quietly at the pressure, feeling himself fully harden under his hand.
His ears ring with the sound of Sieun’s breaths, muffled moans that barely reach the quiet of his room, but just enough that it ignites a fire in the pit of his stomach, his hand now firmly pressed to his bulge.
His hips twitch when he runs a finger along his waistband, his last bit of sanity telling him this is wrong, he shouldn’t be listening to his friend in his private moments, let alone get off to it, but he can’t not picture it.
Is his mouth hung open when he moans? Are his brows furrowed in pleasure? Is he bucking into his hand when the little cries leave his lips? He can’t take it anymore. His hand dives into his sweatpants, fingers wrapping diligently around his thick cock. His eyes flutter shut when he delivers the initial pumps, hand twisting steadily around his length with precision.
It starts feeling too intense way too soon; his cock flushes red with each stroke of his hand, working himself from base to tip. He feels the moan crawling up his throat, working fast to lift the hem of his shirt to his mouth, stuffing the fabric between his bitten lips. His jaw clenches around the material in attempt to muffle his cries, hand moving in a steady rhythm, he doesn’t work too quickly, building the pleasure slowly until it overflows in his abdomen, cock begging for more.
If he strains his ears enough, he just catches the slick sound of Sieun’s pleasure, and he quickens his hand to match his pace, listening carefully to the lewd sound of Sieun pumping his cock, his spit helping his hand move with ease.
“Fucking hell, Sieun,” His eyes screw shut and his breath picks up, trying his best to breathe through his nose. His hips begin to buck, fucking up into his tight fist, tip swollen and sensitive.
His shirt is rough on his tongue and saliva pools at the corner of his mouth, teeth biting down forcefully, he has to stay quiet.
He whimpers, “Mm Sieun-ah.” God, his imagination is driving him crazy, trying to picture how his friend looks in the other room, wishing it was him drawing those sounds from the boy instead. He throws his arm over his eyes, panting hurriedly into the cloth between his lips.
“S-Suho-yah…”
Oh my God.
Suho barely catches the groan that threatens to leave his mouth. Fuck, he’s thinking about me.
“Please, Suho.”
***
Sieun turns his head to bury his face in his pillow, his cover has been tossed aside, forgotten on the end of his bed. His feet are planted on the mattress, giving him free use of his hips, fucking feverishly into his hand.
“Yes, yes! Feels so good Suho-yah.” His words slur in his dazed state, thoughts locked on his taller friend, imagining if he were hovering over his smaller frame, hands roaming his body and tongues intertwined.
What if Suho hears me? What if he walks in? Sieun’s eyes roll at the thought, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
His mind is racing, racking through memories of any interactions that had left him flustered, interactions with lingering touches or Suho’s watchful gaze - memories he had stored for moments like this, though he would never admit it.
He knows he’s getting close, feels it in the way his stomach twists with pleasure and his cock leaks angrily, smearing messily around his length. It throbs in his hand, and with every buck of his hips the more his breaths stutter.
His hand returns to his mouth, mewls getting too much to silence – his hips start to stutter, hand still working furiously on his length until his high crashes over him, waves of pleasure springing tears to his eyes. He comes with a ragged cry pressed to the palm of his hand, breath hot against his skin.
His thighs shake and body tenses as his pace pursues, stroking his cock through his climax, spurts of cum coating his hand in thick ribbons.
He stares at the ceiling as he catches his breath, shame quickly flooding his body as the realisation sets in.
Shit.
How am I gonna face him?
***
Suho’s pace only falters slightly, caught off guard at the mention of his name. He wants nothing more than to barge in that room and ruin him, make him give in to all his desires.
Does he know I can hear him? Can he hear me?
Suho’s mind is overflown with thoughts, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on them, hastily pumping his cock in time with Sieun. His brows furrow and his mouth drops open, shirt falling to his chest and a gasp slips out into the open, another quickly concealed with the bite of his lip.
“Yes, yes! Feels so good Suho-yah.” He’s not going to last at this rate, with every moan and cry that leaves Sieun’s mouth combined with the wet sound of his cock, Suho draws closer and closer to his climax.
He shows no mercy on his poor cock, pumping frantically with a hushed whine. He rolls his hips up to meet his strokes, grinding desperately into the tight pocket of his hand. He can tell Sieun is close. He hears the way his moans come more frequently, small cries and gasps falling into the silence of his room with less restraint.
The tension builds higher and higher in his stomach, his length twitching hotly against his palm. He focuses on the sound of Sieun’s moans, trying to picture how the boy looks as he comes undone.
As Sieun’s breaths grow quicker, Suho’s grow heavier into the night, his fingers brushing the head of his cock, building that tension higher until he hears Sieun release a cry, “That’s it Sieun, come for me.”
He gives one last pump before he’s spilling onto his hand and stomach, ropes of come covering his flushed skin at the same time as his friend, unbeknownst to Sieun.
He basks in the feeling a little longer before the guilt starts to swallow him, realising what he had done.
And as he lay there in the quiet of his room, his only thought is, fuck. How am I gonna face him?