Chapter Text
When Gunil first started looking for a roommate, he wasn’t expecting a best friend. Someone clean, someone responsible. Being kind and having similar interests would just be a bonus.
But Gunil kind of hit the jackpot with Jiseok.
He’s intelligent, he’s sensible, he’s funny as hell. They spend plenty of nights with their dinner dishes empty and abandoned at the table, laughing and talking for over an hour, until they have to scrub the remnants of their food from the dishes because they left them far too long. Jiseok confides his thoughts to Gunil and goes to him for advice, as he’s two years older. He listens when Gunil is stressed and helps him relax when he needs a break. They understand each other quite well.
When Gunil starts pining over the guy in his music composition class, Jiseok teases but ultimately urges him to go for it.
“You idiot,” Jiseok said fondly when Gunil was feeling insecure, throwing a pillow at him from the couch. “Who wouldn’t want you, Koo Gunil? You’re talented, you’re handsome, you’re sweet. I don’t care how pretty this guy is—you’re such a catch, I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense.“
It took some time to build up enough courage to overcome the anxiety, though. The first time Gunil brought Jungsu over to their apartment to tackle some class work together, Jiseok seemed… unusually flustered. It was confusing, because Jiseok is incredibly social, even more outgoing than Gunil is. Was it because he knew Gunil had feelings for Jungsu?
Jiseok managed to keep up some banter, earning some warm fond laughs from Jungsu. It was practically impossible not to be won over by Jiseok. But Gunil could see something behind his eyes that was different. Nervous.
Once Jungsu left, Jiseok told Gunil, “Oh my god that man is beautiful. I get why you were intimidated now.”
But unlike Gunil (at first), Jiseok didn’t let that get to him. When Gunil and Jungsu were watching a movie Jiseok loves in the living room, it was easy to shift over on the couch so Jiseok could join them. It didn’t feel awkward, and Jungsu seemed to get comfortable around Jiseok really quickly. Even if they weren’t exactly friends, they were close acquaintences by proxy of Gunil, which made it all that much easier if Jiseok wanted to try the meal Jungsu cooked for Gunil in their kitchen or he was in the library with Gunil when Jungsu stopped by between classes to say hi. And the idea of keeping his romantic endeavors separate from the rest of his social life just didn’t sit right with Gunil. He’d always want the people he’s seeing to be on good terms with his other friends, everyone able to spend time together and enjoy each other’s company.
After two months of casual dates with Jungsu, Gunil takes the chance. This date in particular he has curated to be very overtly romantic, the nicest restaurant they’ve been to yet. Jungsu looks fine as hell in his crisp white dress shirt and silky black tie, even wearing a sleek ruby red suit jacket.
“I didn’t want to be underdressed since you said this place was fancy, but now I worry it’s too much…” Jungsu had said sheepishly, ducking his head as they took their seats and quickly slipping the jacket off his broad shoulders. Gunil blurts something about how it brings out the red tones in his dark hair, which is gelled and parted to show his forehead, but is distracted by Jungsu rolling up his sleeves to the elbow, trying not to drool.
When Gunil asks Jungsu to be his boyfriend, Jungsu blinks with surprise. His ears turn pink, but he’s beaming, and two glasses of wine can’t compare to the warmth that seeps through Gunil’s chest to his heart at the sight. “I’d love that,” Jungsu says earnestly, and when Gunil reaches his hand out under the tablecloth, Jungsu takes it. Intertwines their fingers easily, bringing their joined hands to rest on his thigh.
They share a kiss outside the doors of the restaurant before catching a cab home. Neither of them are fully drunk, but Gunil definitely feels the effects of the wine humming under his skin, and Jungsu seems slightly tipsy too. He’d always rather be safe than sorry, so he made sure neither of them drove in case of drinking.
In the cab Jungsu tucks himself unnecessarily close to Gunil, and Gunil tips his head to lean against Jungsu. The hand on Gunil’s thigh is open-palmed, and though it doesn’t move, Gunil feels his throat tighten at the presence.
The walk to Gunil’s apartment from the car is short, but Jungsu slings his red jacket over his shoulder and wraps his other arm around Gunil’s waist, tugging him in close. Their steps sway a bit as Gunil is relishing in Jungsu’s bold touches, high off securing the boyfriend status and giddy from good food and wine, so sue him if they cling to each other the entire time to the door.
In the elevator, Jungsu’s arm on his waist squeezes, fingers digging into Gunil’s flesh through the fabric of his own dress shirt. Gunil swallows, understanding the expression of anticipation, of want. He feels Jungsu’s desire practically radiating off him in waves, and it’s all too mutual.
Gunil had told Jiseok of his plans to make things official with Jungsu tonight. A few days later Jiseok said he’d be out with a friend at a PC cafe, and Gunil was relieved he seemed to have taken the hint. The keys jingle in Gunil’s unsteady hands as he hurries to unlock the door, Jungsu’s hands planted on his waist, unmoving, firm, possessive.
The apartment is dark, all the lights off, but they waste no time. Their jackets are practically thrown onto the hooks by the entryway, and Gunil is still toeing out of his shoes when Jungsu’s arms wrap around him. Gunil stumbles over his own feet, Jungsu nudging him a few steps further into the apartment, and the breath of surprise he lets out when his back hits the wall is drawn into Jungsu’s mouth.
Over eight weeks they have shared plenty of kisses, but none like this. None as hungry, as hot, Jungsu claiming Gunil’s lips over and over insatiably, hands raking through Gunil’s hair, their bodies pushed together head to toe. They hadn’t had too much wine but now Gunil really does feel drunk, kissing Jungsu back with everything he has, drinking him in, open-mouthed and desperate.
The hands in his hair drag Gunil to Jungsu’s mouth so he can’t even think about leaving more space between their kisses, each lick of tongue leading to another desperate kiss, each breath rushed to shorten the time until Gunil can suck on Jungsu’s plush lips again.
But Gunil manages to nudge Jungsu in the right direction, leaving the hanging coats and the shoes between their feet so they can tumble into the kitchen. It’s maybe ten seconds but Gunil is already missing Jungsu against him, the taste of wine on Jungsu’s tongue and his soft lips—and it’s affecting Jungsu too, apparently.
In the dark Gunil’s hips bump into the counter, Jungsu almost tripping into him when Gunil catches himself, and then Gunil is being shoved up against the fridge, Jungsu pinning him in place.
God, it feels good. To have Jungsu manhandle him a little, rough not out of any real aggression but pure ravenous desire. The coolness of the fridge bleeds into his back through the fabric, Gunil’s whole body flaring hot when Jungsu tugs Gunil’s shirt out from where it’s tucked into his slacks. Jungsu’s mouth claims his again as his warm hands slip under Gunil’s shirt to land on his hips, teeth grazing Gunil’s lips when Gunil pushes his hips forward, needy, seeking friction. Jungsu pushes his thick thigh between Gunil’s, so sudden and forceful Gunil can’t help but moan into Jungsu’s mouth, flames stirring in his core at the delicious pressure on his cock—
“Um,” a voice cuts through the soundtrack of panting breath and wet kissing. Jungsu flinches, and Gunil’s eyes fly open. His sight has adjusted to the dark somewhat, so he can make out the familiar silhouette of Jiseok, who holds an empty glass in hand. “Sorry, can I get to the fridge?”
Gunil is absolutely mortified. Why is Jiseok home? How long had Jiseok been standing there? He’s frozen in place.
Jungsu is the one to speak. “Sure,” he says, and Gunil sees his kiss swollen lips form a smirk. His dick throbs, aching to kiss him again, his whole body screaming for Jungsu.
And Jungsu steps back, but keeps his hand on Gunil’s waist. Guiding him away from the fridge a few more steps but keeping their bodies pressed together, pulling Gunil’s back against his chest. Immediately Gunil feels Jungsu’s bulge against his ass, and some sick rush of arousal courses through his veins even though he’s watching Jiseok open the fridge, a streak of light from inside illuminating them like some humiliating spotlight.
Jungsu’s hot breath ghosts down the back of Gunil’s neck and if Gunil wasn’t all the way hard before Jiseok interrupted, he sure is now. He can’t imagine what they look like—his hair is probably a mess from how roughly Jungsu had run his fingers through it, and he can feel his face and ears burning so he’s definitely flushing furiously red. His clothes are all rucked up, Jungsu’s hand still pushed under his shirt and splayed around his hip, fingers just under the waistband of his pants, and Gunil is hard.
Gunil is hard, and he’s looking at Jiseok.
Jiseok, his loose threadbare t-shirt hanging off the slope of his shoulder, pretty hands curled around the glass and the bottle of cola as he pours it, and the glow from the fridge shows the tips of his ears are tinged pink.
Despite his rapid heartbeat and the flood of hormones roaring through him head to toe, Gunil can’t move. Jungsu’s thumb rubs little circles into the skin of his stomach by his navel, and it’s making him weak in the knees, but he stays still as a statue. Like if he doesn’t move, Jiseok will forget they’re there.
Why are they still here? Why haven’t they moved to the bedroom by now?
The fridge closes, the line of light narrowing until it disappears and they’re under the cover of darkness again. Jiseok turns around, lifts his cup in acknowledgement, almost like he’s giving them cheers. “Have fun!” he says through a somewhat nervous giggle, and with that he disappears down the hall to his room.
Gunil is still rooted on the spot. Realizing he’s not going to move of his own volition, Jungsu drags Gunil to the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them.
Sensing how Gunil hasn’t come out of the daze, Jungsu asks, “Are you still with me?”
Gunil nods, wrapping his arms around Jungsu to pull him into another kiss. And another, and another. Jungsu still tastes like wine. Right now Jiseok’s lips would taste like cola.
What?
Gunil pulls back an inch, bewildered by his own thoughts.
“You seem a little panicked,” Jungsu says, concern masked with a light teasting tone. But Gunil can see the truth in his eyes.
“It was just unexpected,” Gunil says. “I thought he was out with a friend tonight.”
Jungsu kisses his cheek. Then kisses along the line of his jaw, murmurs into his ear, “We’ll just have to be quiet, then,” and Gunil is putty in his hands, melting on the spot.
They’re not quiet.
Gunil really did try. And Jungsu had started slow, deliberate with his fingers but not too rough, spreading Gunil open skillfully. He had Gunil panting like a dog, but only the occasional soft groan slipped out. Jungsu kept to low hums and dirty thoughts muttered into Gunil’s ear. Even once Jungsu sheathed himself inside, he was taking his time to stretch Gunil out, to slowly drag his cock in and out, but it wasn’t enough.
Gunil had tried, he really had, but it felt like he was suffocating and needed Jungsu more than air. Like he’s dying of thirst and Jungsu would only let water drip into his dry throat, each droplet on his tongue only making it worse, even more aware of what he’s deprived of. Only making him want it even more desperately.
After a few minutes of Jungsu rolling his hips in a slow grind that was more torturous than pleasurable, the heat building in Gunil’s gut was too much to bear.
“Harder,” Gunil says in a low, wobbly voice, strained, like his body needs to say it but his mind is trying to hold it back.
“What was that honey?” Jungsu asks, also keeping his volume down.
Gunil sucks in a breath. “Harder,” he says a little louder this time, more certain.
Jungsu pushes in harder, and a spark sets off in Gunil’s core. Oh, god.
“Mmph,” Gunil whimpers, the sound threatening to push past his lips. It’s too good.
“Like that?” Jungsu asks, and Gunil nods, mouth clamped shut. But then the next thrust is hard enough for Jungsu’s hips to make a light smack when meeting Gunil’s ass, and Gunil’s mouth drops open, a ragged breath escaping him.
“Oh,” Gunil gasps, and Jungsu takes that to keep going, finally with a pace and pressure that could bring Gunil somewhere. And the sounds of Jungsu’s pelvis against his ass cheeks gets louder, Gunil panting harshly at the fullness and the friction, finally, finally feeling really good, and—
Jungsu leans forward, his hands on Gunil’s hips tightening, squeezing, and the mattress rocks slightly with their movements, and the angle is so much better like this—
“Oh—mmmn,” Gunil can’t help the soft moan as he slips lower, Jungsu tugging him back onto his cock by the hold on his hips as Gunil’s chest meets the mattress, his arms too shaky to hold him up now that the pleasure is picking up, running through his limbs until it reaches his fingertips and toes.
He keeps his moans trapped in his mouth, hearing Jungsu’s panting, wishing he could hear the true sounds of his blissful arousal.
“Jungsu,” Gunil rasps, and Jungsu’s thrusts pick up—Gunil almost lets out the lewdest sound yet, reaching for something to hold onto, his fists in the sheets not enough to ground him—he ends up gripping the base of the headboard, white knuckling it to steel his resolve and keep control over the situation even as it seems to slip farther from his grasp with each grind of Jungsu’s hips.
The headboard thumps against the wall with every thrust. The wall with Jiseok on the other side, probably in his own bed. Gunil stares at it like he could burn a hole through it with his eyes, the only barrier between them and Jiseok.
He can’t tell Jungsu to slow down, to ease up. He doesn’t have it in him.
And Jungsu doesn’t seem to want to stop either, panting like each breath is punching out of his lungs, threatening to break into a real sound of pleasure, a moan, a whine, something.
“G-Gunil,” Jungsu chokes out suddenly, a warning, his hips kicking faster. The headboard rattles with the force. Gunil feels like he could cry. “Oh, Gunil, hah—”
Jungsu’s gasps give way to a choked off sob that Jungsu can’t keep down. His hands squeeze Gunil’s hips so hard they could bruise, and Gunil feels the rush of warmth fill him as Jungsu finishes inside. Gunil’s toes curl, he feels lightheaded, he’s almost there, he can tell by the buzzing under his skin—
And then he’s pushed down into the bed as Jungsu leans forward to wrap a hand around his cock, and Gunil almost yelps at the feeling of Jungsu’s warm tight fist around his length, throbbing painfully and already slick with precum. He’d been so caught up in trying to keep the noise down he hadn’t even noticed how much he had been leaking, a wet puddle from his cockhead soaking into the sheets, and a groan is ripped from his throat.
With Jungsu draped over him like this his cock is pushed even deeper inside, the deepest yet, the cum squelching obscenely inside Gunil, and he has to shove his face into the pillows to muffle his whines, hands balling into fists as he musters all his strength to swallow back the sounds.
It’s a futile attempt, especially when Jungsu starts talking. “You’re so big, hyung, but it’s useless—you don’t even use it,” tears burn behind Gunil’s eyelids as he squeezes them shut but he can’t look away for long, staring down at Jungsu’s hand rubbing over his (apparently big) cock, wet and red and pulsing, Jungsu is still talking, “—just let me spread you open and let it drag untouched on the bed, out of reach while I fuck you—”
“Oh, fuck, ngh—” Gunil cums at last, spurting over Jungsu’s fingers and onto the sheets, trembling and twitching. Jungsu’s chest stays pressed against his back, his labored breath hitting Gunil’s neck, sending tingles down his spine as his orgasm fizzles out.
With all the pleasure chemicals swirling through his body and the fatigue settling in, it easily numbed out… whatever weird, neurotic thoughts had been circling in his head about Jiseok. Gunil tore the soiled sheets off the bed and quickly replaced them so they could drift off to sleep in each other’s arms, and Gunil could leave this behind.
○ ○ ○
It wasn’t until late the next morning Gunil saw Jiseok again. Gunil was eating breakfast when Jiseok enters the kitchen and the first thing out of his roommate’s mouth was, “I’m so sorry about last night, hyung,” his big eyes full of worry. “I did go out with Jooyeon, but after an hour of gaming he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go home to rest. I sent you a text but I should have called to tell you I came home early, I—”
“What? Jiseok-ah,” Gunil cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I didn’t even check my phone, I just…” He feels his face warm, and he can’t look Jiseok in the eyes. “I got carried away. I wasn’t thinking. Don’t worry about it.”
There’s a beat of silence, and Jiseok’s usual sunny personality breaches the clouds of anxiety. But then he sits in the chair beside him, nudges Gunil with his elbow and says, “Sooo, fill me in… Did you ask him?”
He’s surprised Jiseok hadn’t assumed by their feverish makeout in the kitchen and Jungsu spending the night that the relationship was official. Gunil’s not opposed to casual sex, but he fell for Jungsu so quickly that he knew that wasn’t the route to go—his heart was involved from the start, so he might as well court him properly and take him out on dates before getting involved sexually. And even though Gunil had told Jungsu he liked him romantically after the first few dates, he didn’t want to have sex with Jungsu until he knew for certain Jungsu was just as committed as Gunil was, that their intentions were the same.
Gunil nods. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” he says through a smile, and Jiseok mirrors the grin back.
“Hell yes!” Jiseok shouts, practically leaping out of his chair to throw an arm around Gunil in a half-hug. “Congratulations, that’s awesome. I’m so happy for you.”
Gunil puts down his spoon to wrap his arms around Jiseok in a proper hug. He feels the threadbare cotton of Jiseok’s baggy shirt beneath his hands, the stretched out collar hanging off the slope of his small shoulder.
It’s the same shirt from last night. When he was at the fridge, in this very kitchen, the fridge light illuminating his pink ears, while Gunil stood with Jungsu’s hardness pressing against his ass in the dark. He can almost feel the ghost of Jungsu’s thumb by his navel again, the small circles stirring up warmth in his gut.
Gunil almost pushes Jiseok off of him, startled, but plays it off by turning back to his breakfast and saying, “Thank you, Jiseokie.” His heart slows down now that Jiseok isn’t in such close proximity anymore, but there’s a slight wave of disappointment. Like he wanted to keep Jiseok there, close, touching him, even though he was revisiting horny feelings from last night with Jungsu.
The only relief is the knowledge that these feelings will pass. It may be jarring and uncomfortable now, but it’s sure to go away with time.
○ ○ ○
“Have you ever done anything with Jiseok?”
“Like what?”
“Like, sexually.”
Gunil chokes on his drink, hurtling into a coughing fit. He wheezes with eyes watering as he strains to catch his breath. From across the table Jungsu politely passes him a napkin to wipe the tears and spit, his expression a mix of pity and amusement at Gunil’s predicament.
“What?” Gunil finally croaks.
“He was really calm about the other night,” Jungsu says nonchalantly. “Like, he didn’t freak out or anything.”
“Couldn’t you tell by the way I freaked out the answer is no?”
Jungsu shrugs. “There’s a difference between hooking up with someone and that person walking in on you hooking up with someone else.”
“No, we have never ‘hooked up’—or done anything sexual.”
“Not even kissing?”
Gunil shakes his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What is making you think about all of this?”
“I told you, the other night.” But Jungsu’s tone lifts higher, with a slight indignant edge. He fiddles with his chopsticks in his bowl, avoiding Gunil’s eyes.
So Gunil raises his eyebrows pointedly and makes a disbeleving hum of, “Mhm.” He keeps his gaze trained on Jungsu, whose ears are already tinged pink just at that.
It takes mere moments for his defenses to crumble. Jungsu places his chopsticks down and chews the inside of his cheek, seeming shy. “I don’t want to sound… I don’t know, conceited, or arrogant or anything, but… I think Jiseok might be into me?”
This is one of less shocking statements of the conversation. After a pause to consider the idea, Gunil finds himself nodding. “He told me you’re pretty after he first met you.”
Something lights up Jungsu’s eyes. It’s adorable. “He said I’m pretty?”
“Beautiful,” Gunil clarifies. “He’d have to be blind not to notice, though.”
“Well, there’s something else, too,” Jungsu says, a cheeky glint in his eye like he’s about to spill a secret. Gunil tilts his head, curious, eager to hear more, and a smirk curls into Jungsu’s lips.
“He wants you, too.”
Gunil blinks, pulling back with bewilderment. “What?”
“It’s true. I think he might be attracted to me, but I know this part for sure.” Jungsu picks up his chopsticks again, resuming his meal, but Gunil is statue-still with surprise.
“How do you know?”
“Jiseok can’t be nonchalant for the life of him!” Jungsu chuckles, radiating a fondness Gunil recognizes as mutual for Jiseok. “He lights up when he has your attention. He perks up whenever you enter the room. He’s always throwing you compliments, impressed by anything you do. I think he really likes that you’re his hyung. It’s so cute—like he just wants to be a good boy for you.”
Gunil’s cheeks heat up. “Oh,” is all he says.
Isn’t that just how Jiseok is? Isn’t he just a nice, friendly person? Gunil had always assumed Jiseok was simply amicable by nature. That he and Jiseok got along better than any of his past roommates because they’re friends, that’s all. And the reason Jiseok didn’t act that way with his other friends is because Gunil is in the year above him… right? Isn’t that it?
Gunil sits in stillness, mind reeling, unsure where this leaves them. When he looks at Jungsu again, his boyfriend’s smirk has returned, even though he was letting Gunil process and eating in silence. Now that Gunil’s present again, Jungsu just prods, “So?”
“...So?” Gunil repeats.
“Do you want him too?”
Gunil tries to speak, but ends up with the words stuck in his throat. Why does it feel difficult to answer? Why doesn’t he automatically tell Jungsu no? Why does the idea of saying no feel like a lie?
Is it because of how the sound of Jiseok’s laugh alone can make his day? Is it because he always sneaks a glance when Jiseok wears that old shirt that shows a sliver of his tummy? Or because since that night, he keeps feeling the usual warmth of fondness for Jiseok sink lower into his gut?
Gunil clears his throat. “Do you?” he asks instead.
Jungsu sets his chopsticks down again, folding his hands on the table. “Just to be clear, Gunil, I don’t see this as a detriment to our relationship. I don’t think people stop being attractive once you start dating someone. Hot people are hot, yeah?”
Gunil nods, but can’t speak.
Jungsu’s smile returns. His eyes crinkle up, glowing. “I do. I do like Jiseok, and I think I’d like to see him in that way. I think I would want him in that way, if he was also interested.” Gunil doesn’t know what to say. He swallows thickly. Jungsu continues, “It’s a bit too soon to say for sure… it’s only been a few months since I met him, and just a week since he walked in on us. But when he did… I realized it didn’t feel like an intrusion. It kind of felt… exciting?”
Then Jungsu shakes his head. “But I don’t think it would feel like that with just anyone. It’s not the prospect of someone watching, it’s him. It’s him being there. And I… don’t think I’d want him to just watch.”
Gunil can’t breathe. Everything feels so delicate, even the dust particles in the air, every sound of clanging dishware in the restaurant. There’s a prickling under his own skin—not uncomfortable, more like a buzzing, a hum.
Jungsu is so candidly open with his feelings, but Gunil feels like he could pass out from the very idea of acknowledging his own right now as flashes of Jiseok invade his psyche, as thinking of the glimpse of a certain smile back at home makes something in his chest jump.
“Take your time to think about it, honey,” Jungsu says. So reassured, so understanding. Gunil is sure the crisis is written all over his face. “There’s no pressure to do anything at all. Just… keep it in mind.”
○ ○ ○
It starts to happen more often.
The next time was by total chance. Gunil says it was an accident, but Jungsu calls it serendipity.
Jungsu was all too eager to strip off Gunil’s shirt, decorating his bare tan torso in kisses while his hands roamed over every inch, conquering every curve of muscle, seeking out every soft spot. And Jungsu has such a gorgeous chest, why should Gunil get all the attention? So Gunil tugged Jungsu’s shirt off as well, bringing their bodies together so their hips can meet, already falling into a rhythm.
But then Jungsu stepped back, pushing Gunil’s sweatpants down his hips until they slipped off his legs to the floor, leaving him in just his underwear. Jungsu cupped his dick through the fabric, already hard, a moan slipping from Gunil’s lips into Jungsu’s mouth—and then Jungsu was dragging Gunil with him onto the bed, straddling Jungsu’s thighs and rocking down onto Jungsu’s own bulge poking through his pants.
Jiseok is home. Gunil knows this. Jungsu knows this. They greeted him when the pair had returned to the apartment after a lunch date, then retreated to Gunil’s room.
And then their bags had hit the floor, and they were kissing. And each kiss had lead to another with more want, even more heat in the next, and now here they are.
Gunil paws at Jungsu’s chest, palms cupping the curve of Jungsu’s pecs while his thumbs rub over Jungsu’s nipples, a soft sound trailing from his lips into Gunil’s as they’re practically glued together, entangled up in each other entirely. Jungsu’s hands squeeze Gunil’s ass cheeks appreciatively, aiding his movements to grind down on Jungsu’s lap, and Jungsu licks each quiet groan from Gunil’s mouth as their hips rock together.
A sharp, ear-splitting beeping cuts through the air.
Jungsu winces, face scrunching up at the harsh noise, and Gunil scrambles off of his boyfriend to shove his sweatpants back on, not even bothering with a shirt, hurrying out the door into the kitchen.
It’s a little cloudy, but no flames or smoke are in sight. Jiseok is opening up the window when he turns to see Gunil, and he yells over the alarm, “Sorry! I think there’s some burnt stuff in the oven that started smoking when I turned it on!”
Gunil nods, now going into his own room to carry his desk fan into the kitchen, hoping it’ll help clear the air. He passes Jungsu, who is using a folder (presumably from his school bag) to fan the space around the alarm, making good use of his height. He’s also still shirtless, jeans hanging low on his hips as he reaches up to the ceiling alarm, waving the folder around.
The desk fan is plugged in by the oven, and after a few more seconds, the shrill beeping ceases.
The three of them collectively sigh in relief. Jiseok turns the fan down to low now that the crisis is averted, the hum quieting, and they all exchange glances for the first time since the alarm went off.
“Are you okay?” Gunil asks Jiseok.
“Oh—yeah, I’m fine,” Jiseok answers.
Now that Gunil knows to look for it, he notices—though, in all fairness, Jiseok is being incredibly obvious about it. His eyes rake over Jungsu and Gunil’s bare chests where they stand, and he blurts out, “Why are you both shirtless?”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, it’s like a lightbulb pops up over Jiseok’s head. His eyes dip lower, to their hips, and Gunil is suddenly aware that he’s still half-hard. And it’s definitely visible in his loose sweatpants.
Jiseok’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, eyes widening as he looks them in the eyes again. “Were you two—”
“Maybe,” Gunil huffs, crossing his arms defensively, but at the same time Jungsu just answers, “Yeah,” matter-of-fact.
Jiseok swallows. Gunil feels like his whole body is on fire, and before he bursts into flames on the spot he abruptly turns on his heel to walk back down the hall to his room, fighting the urge to outright run. He hears Jungsu laugh, “What?” at Jiseok, which sounds like more of a “So what?”
And they end up just dry humping in their underwear on Gunil’s bed, impatient and riled up, moaning freely into each other’s mouths like after the smoke alarm fiasco they deserve a little indulgence, payback to Jiseok for disrupting them.
Gunil wonders if Jiseok is still in the kitchen or in if he’s now moved to his room. Either way, he wonders if Jiseok can hear.
He’s not turned off by the idea. If anything, it strangely motivates him to grind on Jungsu’s bulge with even more fervor, to drag those lewd sounds out from Jungsu’s pretty lips between panting breaths, who returns the energy tenfold, hauling Gunil against him with a rough grip on his ass. And while Gunil isn’t trying to be loud, he can’t find it himself to hold back his moans, either.
They come in their underwear rubbing against each other almost simultaneously.
Gunil is sprawled on top of Jungsu, their crotches wet with their own cum as they lay pressed together. Jungsu runs his fingers through Gunil’s hair, soothing and affectionate, both still catching their breath when Gunil hears shuffling sounds from Jiseok’s room.
○ ○ ○
Gunil and Jungsu start taking risks.
They had 25 minutes until Jiseok got home from class. And Jungsu had an important presentation today, was dressed in this crisp button-down that fit his body so unfairly well, black slacks that sit just right on his thick waist to curve around his perfect ass, his hair gelled so a few strands framed his forehead, and—
Well, Gunil couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom to get his hands on his boyfriend, to feel every inch of his stupidly hot body. Pushing him into the couch, practically ripping open his shirt by the buttons to press kiss after sloppy kiss into the swell of Jungsu’s pecs, already going dizzy with hormones… it was all too easy for Gunil to slip down from the couch cushions to his knees on the floor, hands clutching Jungsu’s plush thighs trapped in those fancy trousers, desperation driving every move.
They still had 20 minutes by then, right? Something like that. Maybe 15 minutes. It was hard to figure out how time was passing with Jungsu filling up all of his senses and drowning everything out. Tears blurring Gunil’s vision to vague smears of color, Jungsu’s soft, beautiful moans filling Gunil’s ears, accompanied by the sound of slick saliva and his own breath rushing through his nose. Jungsu’s cock filling up his mouth, pushing along his tongue, thick and hot and heavy, the most perfect obstruction to his airway.
Maybe Gunil was moaning at this point, too. He always loses himself when giving head, sinks deep into this wonderfully overwhelmed headspace so quickly. It doesn’t help that Jungsu’s hand is threaded harshly in his hair, controlling him, guiding the pace of his head bobbing, dragging Gunil lower onto his cock and back again, pulling him deeper, using him like a toy.
Yeah, Gunil is probably moaning too, because there’s this vibration under his skin that ripples from his throat, because Jungsu’s thighs are jumping under the splayed grip of Gunil’s small hands, and Jungsu’s own moans are all high and breathy now, and his length is twitching on Gunil’s tongue, leaking into his mouth—
There’s a thud of the door closing, and it’s gone.
Jungsu’s dick is pulled out of his mouth before Gunil can even blink. And blink he does, a tear finally dropping down his cheek, and by the time he wipes his vision clear Jungsu is standing, fumbling with his zipper.
Gunil is far less composed; he crawls onto the couch, his knees aching from the minimal cushioning of the rug, and meets the eyes of Jiseok, standing at the coat hangers and shoe mat by the door to their unit.
Jiseok just stands there, frozen with shock. His cheeks are a blotchy pink, his mouth dropped open, his eyes wide and unblinking.
“Sorry, Jiseokie—I thought you had class until 4?” Jungsu’s voice shocks them both into action. Gunil scrambles to stand from the couch, and hopes Jiseok doesn’t notice how his knees are shaking.
“I—um, I—i-it ended early,” Jiseok stammers.
“I didn’t hear my phone,” Gunil apologies with a rasp, and it looks like Jiseok stops breathing when he hears the state of Gunil’s wrecked voice. You know, from having Jungsu’s cock shoved down his throat a mere five seconds ago.
“Yeah I—no, it’s fine, I can—I’ll go,” Jiseok awkwardly gestures at the hallway leading to their bedrooms, and when he moves so abruptly his backpack slips off his shoulder, almost dragging Jiseok to the ground with the sudden swing of weight.
Without thinking, Gunil leaps forward and catches him. One hand grabbing the strap of his bag, the other wrapping around Jiseok.
Jiseok straightens up now that he’s steady, and his face is inches from Gunil’s. His eyes dart to Gunil’s lips, the pink flush of his cheeks darkening. He’s shaking, and his skin looks sweaty. He licks his lips. Those plump, pretty lips. Gunil feels faint.
“Thanks,” Jiseok blurts out, adjusting his backpack with a hand white-knuckling its grip on the shoulder strap, and he hurries down the hall.
Gunil’s brain starts reeling.
The front door of their unit doesn’t close that quickly. It doesn’t have much of a swinging weight to it, naturally drawn back to the doorway to click shut. No, it practically floats closed, and there are no windows open with a breeze to urge a quicker pace. Jiseok could have been there for a full ten seconds, twenty seconds—even longer. How long had he been there? How much had he seen? What had it looked like?
What could Jiseok see from there? Did he see Jungsu’s chest heaving with moans and panting, Gunil’s face red and eyes teary? How the thickness of Jungsu’s cock pushed in and out of his open mouth, how Jungsu used him for his own pleasure? Could he hear Gunil’s own whimpers, how he clung to Jungsu’s thighs to stay grounded because he was so high on it all?
They still don’t make it to the bedroom.
Jungsu corners him right there, pushing him up against the wall of the living room. He’s still hard, and Gunil is too. The rub of their erections together has Gunil gasping, biting back a whine.
“You can’t last to the bedroom, can you?” Jungsu hisses in his ear. Gunil whimpers, shaking his head. “No, you can—but you don’t want to, do you?”
He’s so on edge, he’s trembling head to toe. He can’t speak. But Jungsu does all the talking for him.
“There’s a reason you’re being reckless,” Jungsu tells him, pressing the heel of his hand into Gunil’s crotch. He punctuates his throughts with hot kisses searing into the skin of Gunil’s neck. “You like it. It’s not an oversight—you’re always so careful about things. Whether you’re conscious of it or not, it’s on purpose. You like having Jiseok involved, even if it’s just the potential of his presence. You get off on it.”
Gunil just pants raggedly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands curl into fists at the back of Jungsu’s dress shirt, still hanging open. Jungsu’s hand slips into Gunil’s pants, and it only takes three strokes before Gunil comes, gasping for air.
Jungsu steps back, guiding Gunil to his knees with a hand cradling him. It ends up fisted in the short hairs at the nape of Gunil’s neck, his other hand jerking himself off until he finishes into Gunil’s open mouth, waiting with his tongue out. It feels dirty. It feels humiliating. And it feels twice as good than if they were in the privacy on Gunil’s bedroom, or alone in the apartment as they were just mere minutes before.
Afterwards, Gunil double-checks that his ringer is on, confused as to why he didn’t hear a message from Jiseok about coming home early. Gunil had told him Jungsu was coming over. And what’s even more confusing is that his phone settings reveal the ringer was on. And then his messages show no new ones from Jiseok today.
Jiseok knew Jungsu would be there. And yeah, they weren’t in Gunil’s room this time, but… if class really did end early, Jiseok could have texted Gunil a heads-up. That’s supposedly what he did the first night Gunil had Jungsu stay over. The idea likely crossed his mind.
But he didn’t.
And Gunil doesn’t remind him to.
○ ○ ○
Jiseok starts getting bolder, too. One night after they all had dinner at the apartment, Jiseok retires early for his 8 AM exam the next morning. He pushes his chair back and rubs his stomach contentedly before telling them, “I seriously need to get some sleep—I haven’t gotten a good night’s rest all week with exams, so please don’t fuck too loud.”
Gunil’s jaw drops, and before he can get out an apology Jungsu says, “Jealous, Jiseokie?”
Jiseok just runs a hand through his hair, standing up from the table to put his dishes in the sink. “Jealous you’re done with finals, yeah. If I didn’t have this one last exam we could do our movie night and continue getting through all the Ghibli films… Ponyo’s next and it’s my favorite, I’m impatient!”
Jungsu tilts his head, his smile widening. “Do you want to be invited?”
Jiseok whirls around, bewildered. “You can’t watch Ponyo without me!” he cries. Maybe it’s due to exams, but he looks legitimately stressed out.
And then it sinks in, and Gunil swallows nervously. Against his better judgement, he says lowly, “Jungsu didn’t mean to movie night.”
Jiseok blinks, jaw slack, pretty eyes wide. His ears go red, but then he scoffs a laugh and looks down at the floor. “Hah, whatever.” He doesn’t think Jungsu is serious. That they’re serious. Because if Gunil wanted Jungsu to stop pushing the idea, he would tell him. But he sits quietly beside his boyfriend, letting him verbally poke and prod at the younger to his heart’s content.
“What, are you intimidated?” Jungsu raises his eyebrows.
Jiseok laughs more genuinely now, a silly giggle that’s unfairly cute. “Intimidated by what? Isn’t Gunil-hyung vanilla as fuck?”
“Hey!” Gunil whines in protest.
“I’m not saying you’re boring, hyung,” Jiseok explains. “You’re just all… soft, and sweet. I don’t think you have a kinky bone in your body. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
And for some reason Gunil is blushing now, his face warm. “I know…” But then when Jiseok smirks a little, eyes wandering back to Jungsu with a self-satisfied mirth, Gunil objects. “B-but that’s not true!”
Jiseok rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “Come on, you’re totally the type to say ‘I love you’ when you cum.” And the fond grin has now turned devious, and the heat behind Gunil’s cheeks only increases because Jiseok is talking about him cumming what the fuck?
Jungsu finally tears his eyes off of Jiseok, head swiveling to look at Gunil with that cheeky glint in his eyes. “Why don’t we let him find out for himself?”
Gunil blinks. His heart is caught in his throat. Jungsu is seconds away from just directly propositioning Jiseok outright, and he wasn’t ready for it. Well, he is, but he wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen now, during a casual conversation after dinner.
Interrupting their tense eye contact, Jiseok says, “Why don’t you let me go to bed?”
Gunil sighs. Of course even if he's interested, now isn't the right time. “Sleep well, Jiseokie.”
“We’ll be quiet,” Jungsu says. When he turns to regard Jiseok again, Gunil notices his ears are pink, too.
And they are quiet, at first. They whisper to each other over heated touches, keeping a more languid pace, breathing heavy and muffling any soft moans that slip out.
Then there’s a sound from Jiseok’s room. It’s faint, indistinct, so Gunil ignores it. Maybe Jiseok is having a dream, a nightmare or something.
But then it happens again, and there’s no mistaking: Jiseok moans.
A broken, needy sound, loud enough to barely be muted by the wall. And Gunil swears he feels Jungsu twitch inside him.
Gunil stares up at Jungsu with shock, and Jungsu’s eyes mirror the surprise back at him. But then Jungsu’s kiss-swollen lips curl into a smile, delighted and eager, and he starts thrusting into Gunil hard. No more deep grinding, but kicking his hips into Gunil harshly, and at the sudden change Gunil can’t help the little yelp that leaps from his throat, “Ah!”
Jungsu has a filthy mouth. Jiseok really got him worked up with that conversation after dinner. And now that Jungsu knows Gunil is into the idea of Jiseok joining them—or rather, he’s made Gunil aware that he’s into the idea, by bringing it up and making him face it—he won’t shut up.
Usually he’s murmuring in Gunil’s ear, but tonight is different. And it’s as if Jungsu wants to make sure Jiseok hears because he’s speaking at full volume, a level easily heard through the thin walls.
“You like that?” Jungsu gasps between labored breath, still working his hips. “Need it rough after Jiseok’s comments, hmm?” Gunil squeezes his eyes shut, clinging to Jungsu’s shoulders. “Such a shame he doesn’t know how much of a slut you really are.”
Jungsu sits up, rolling his hips relentlessly, cupping Gunil’s cheek. “You want Jiseokie to watch? See how much of a whore you are for me?” And it clicks in Gunil’s brain—he’s putting on a show for Jiseok, assuming he’s listening.
His hand travels to cradle Gunil’s jaw, his thumb tracing Gunil’s bottom lip, tugging it down with the slightest bit of pressure. “I bet you wanna suck his cock, don’t you?”
Gunil’s breath stutters, and he could start drooling even without Jungsu’s fingers entering his mouth. But before he can get too lost in that fantasy, Jungsu’s hand trails down Gunil’s chest, over his stomach, and then without warning he takes Gunil’s length in his hand—the breath is punched out of Gunil’s lungs, his untouched cock suddenly surrounded by the tight warmth of Jungsu’s palm.
“Would you let him ride you? Finally make use of this big cock of yours? I’m not sure you even know how to use it.” Gunil feels lightheaded, woozy over Jungsu’s words. He’s never been this mean before, but he knows Gunil likes Jungsu’s dirty words and Jungsu definitely got all riled up from Jiseok’s teasing. He gave Jungsu attitude, a little bratty edge that Gunil lacks, and Jungsu is rolling with it. “We have to treat our Jiseokie good, don’t we? Do you think you could fuck him right?”
“I could,” Gunil finds himself whining. “I’d make him feel good, I promise, I could do it—”
“Or do you want me to fuck him? Leave you hard and aching, untouched, while I take him apart? Tell you how good he feels around my cock,” Jungsu pauses to for a panting moan, “so you can imagine it yourself.”
Gunil can barely breathe with Jungsu like this—rocking his hips hard, hard enough to make the bed creak, one hand dragging up and down over his cock that’s started drooling precum, the other squeezing his hip. Even with Jungsu touching him it’s not enough, he’s so hard it hurts, tension throbbing throughout his entire body.
“He’s got a mouth that’s made for sucking cock by the look of it, though,” Jungsu muses. “Maybe he should suck me off while he sits on your cock. Keep him full from both ends.”
Holy shit. Gunil squeezes his eyes shut, feeling wetness gather in his eyelashes as tears build up and threaten to spill. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this turned on in his life.
“What do you want, Gunil? Which would you like?”
And Gunil’s head is filled with a flurry of crackling white noise, stars prickling behind his eyelids, rambling mindlessly but honestly, “All of it, all of it, anything, wanna make him feel good, any way—want him any way I can have him,” and his voice is all wobbly from the threat of tears, from how hard Jungsu’s cock is pushing into his body, the need for release gnawing at his insides.
“Of course you do,” Jungsu huffs. “Because you’re a slut for it all, desperate for any of it. You want to be played with, to be used, because you know it’s what you’re good for.”
“Unh, ‘su, I—J-Jungsu,” Gunil mewls, tossing his head against the pillow with overwhelm, ready to burst at the seams.
“You’re such a mess,” Jungsu says, but his thrusts are growing erratic, and he drops forward with a hand holding him up on the mattress, the other fisting Gunil’s slick cock. He’s panting out the words, sweat gathering on his forehead, and Gunil can tell his boyfriend is close. “Come on, be a good boy for me.”
“Please,” Gunil gasps, unable to specify what he’s even pleading for, but Jungsu squeezes his cock on the upstroke and something snaps. Gunil whimpers, shooting hot and wet over his own stomach, his nails digging into the skin of Jungsu’s shoulders where he clings for dear life, heart hammering against his ribcage at the release swirling inside.
Jungsu wipes up his stomach with two fingers, and as Gunil’s mouth hangs open with his labored breath Jungsu pushes those fingers past Gunil’s lips. With a surprised moan Gunil takes them in eagerly, braving the bitter taste for the burning look of lust in Jungsu’s eyes. He hollows his cheeks and sucks, dragging his tongue along them all slick and messy, Jungsu’s words ringing in his head— “I bet you wanna suck his cock, don’t you?” — “You want to be played with, to be used”—
With a few more thrusts, so deep Gunil gurgles another broken cry against his fingers, and Jungsu comes with a gasp ripped from the back of his throat, eyes squeezing shut, fingers still shoved into Gunil’s mouth. He pushes down on Gunil’s tongue, drool pooling in his mouth, and grinds his hips through the orgasm with labored breath.
And Gunil swears he hears another sound through the wall, a muffled, wavering moan. He almost moans himself in response, closing his eyes and trying to picture Jiseok’s face as he finishes. When Jungsu finally separates from him, he meets Gunil’s eyes and they silently agree; they have to have him.