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Yoo Joonghyuk was all over him. His body. His scent, his breath. All encompassing, the way his hands kept Kim Dokja pinned down like a vise.
There was no escaping.
Kim Dokja—who’d forged a name for himself in loopholes and weaseling his way out of even the trickiest situations, couldn’t find his way out of this.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s palm pushed flat against his back, pressing him further into the mattress. His own fingers twisted in the sheets, gripping the fabric hard as a guttural moan ripped itself from his throat.
…Well, it’s okay. It wasn’t like he wanted a way out, anyway.
Maybe that was just his habit. To take mental note of every exit; to fixate on the current lack thereof.
Or maybe—and of course, this was only hypothetical—Kim Dokja was just a stubborn bastard who wanted to pretend like he didn’t want this. Who’d unabashedly deny it, like his hips weren’t swaying back with every thrust. Drunk with the motion, the feeling, the depravity of it all.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth was on his neck. Lips and teeth and tongue. He sucked a kiss beneath his jaw then moved lower, nipping again at his throat. Kim Dokja sucked in a gasp, his mouth hanging uselessly agape. Yoo Joonghyuk’s pace never faltered, and each slam of his hips stole his breath away more than the last.
He couldn’t even find the words to fuss over the rough treatment. Not to tease or complain or even ask for more. Kim Dokja knew he must sound like a broken record, just a steady string of moans, Joonghyuk’s name, and the occasional, “fuck,” that punched itself past his lips.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice whispered, and it was low and heavy and so hot that it burned. He answered with a groan.
A pair of lips pressed against his nape. “Kim Dokja, I’m—“ the words caught in his throat, replaced by a moan. “I’m going to come,” he tried again, and this time it sounded more urgent.
Kim Dokja bit his lip. “Inside—“ he choked out, eyelids screwing shut when Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips snapped back in for a particularly deep thrust.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s groan bordered on a growl. “Can I?” he asked.
Kim Dokja’s mouth twisted in a grin. It was foolish and maybe a little deranged, too, but who could say for sure with the way his face was half-buried in the pillow? “I’m already giving you permission, so.” he huffed. “Fuck. Yes, do it.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand at his waist gripped him even harder then. It would almost certainly bruise, yet he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, Kim Dokja just grit his teeth and continued to egg him on, anyway.
“Fill me up nice and full. You’ll do that, won’t you, Joonghyuk-ah?”
…It was like lighting a match, the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s reaction was instantaneous.
The hand at his back found its way to his neck, fingers curling around his throat. The pressure stayed light, not enough to actually choke him, but enough to offer some leverage. Yoo Joonghyuk pulled Kim Dokja back onto his cock with every inward stroke. His pace was punishing, those hips relentless, and Kim Dokja had never in his life felt so full.
“Wanna be filled,” he said in a stupid mumble, no longer sure if the words were for Yoo Joonghyuk or himself.
A shaky gasp left a breathless Yoo Joonghyuk, head bowed, when his hips began to stutter at last. Kim Dokja couldn’t fight it any longer and came with a loud cry that the pillow did little to muffle. Yoo Joonghyuk continued, punching little gasps out of him until finally, he let out a groan and sank deep inside—where he stayed until he’d released everything he had to give and his breaths began to slow their way back to normal.
He pulled out.
Kim Dokja, too, was left panting with exertion, his body limp and buzzing. His eyelids fluttered open and then the world swelled back into view.
He sighed. “Yoo Joonghyuk,” he murmured, turning slowly to face him.
Yoo Joonghyuk settled with his back against the sheets beside him. He hummed low to acknowledge that he’d heard him.
And then—
Well. That’s when things started getting weird.
Suddenly, he noticed Yoo Joonghyuk was wearing all of his clothes. His coat, his pants—even those damn combat boots that were such a pain to remove.
He frowned. That didn’t make any sense.
Had Yoo Joonghyuk fucked him so good that his mind was a bit out of it? Did he pass out? Was he just now coming to?
Because… they’d only just finished, and Kim Dokja was really quite certain he hadn’t seen Yoo Joonghyuk put on any clothes.
His eyes turned to his bedroom floor, where he was sure they’d be haphazardly thrown in a heap.
His eyes turned to his bedroom floor…
His bedroom…
No. Where was he?
Just then—all at once, everything was wrong. Off kilter. Tilted off its axis and flipped on its head. He didn’t recognize this place anymore, didn’t know what was happening, and his head snapped back to Yoo Joonghyuk, but he was no longer there at all and neither was the bed.
There was a sensation like falling, and his body reacted with a violent jolt—as if he were reaching for a handhold—as if he could catch himself in the abyss.
Kim Dokja wakes with a start.
His lashes flutter, rapidly blinking away the sleep from his eyes. They scan over the room slowly. Processing.
Three realizations find his sluggish mind as he pushes himself up from the mattress.
The first—he’s in his own bed, after all. His fingers brush over familiar bedding, and a sense of relief washes over him when he confirms there’s no one else in it too.
Perhaps his mind should have stopped there. Just to question why on earth he thought someone might be in bed with him at all. But then the second realization comes and it’s somehow stranger than the first.
There’s this… sensation, lingering beneath his skin. Like a well-channeled electric current, it buzzes softly. Warm and pleasant. He feels a bit weightless in it, but then—the moment he shifts a leg, he discovers that his limbs feel quite heavy.
He runs a hand through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. Actually, it almost feels like…
He shifts again, then throws his bedsheets to the side. A single hand palming over his underwear is enough to confirm his suspicions. The third realization. Kim Dokja can only stare at his lower region in disbelief.
Release clings wetly between fabric and skin. Everything comes flooding back to him at once.
…What the hell?
Had he really just gotten off in a sex dream about Yoo Joonghyuk??
Images flash through his mind uninvited. Not quite memories, thought they might as well be for how real they felt.
He could see Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest pressed flush with his back, a hand on his hip to keep him from moving around too much. The way his own fingers scrambled for purchase in the sheets—anything to hold onto while Yoo Joonghyuk deftly took him apart.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s low voice whispering crude words in his ear.
His unrelenting pace. His mouth, marking up his skin so much it would be impossible to hide it all from their party or the constellation’s prying, omnipresent eyes...
Kim Dokja screws his eyes shut as if it could block out the unsolicited imagery. He tries focusing on the present instead, but that isn’t any better really, because suddenly the only thing he can focus on is the sticky feeling at his groin.
“Ugh,” he groans, slumping back against the sheets.
This is ridiculous.
And—by the way—why had he been so… vulgar in the dream? Once again, his mind flits back to it, replaying his own obscene moans and the way he’d shamelessly pushed back his hips before asking Yoo Joonghyuk to—
Nope. Scratch that thought, actually. He could do without remembering.
…Damn it. Is he really that pent up? To get a wet dream when he’s pushing thirty?
Though—maybe it shouldn’t be that surprising. Sex isn’t something he engages in very often, in any case. Or, at all really…
In his defense, life before the apocalypse had been too sad and lonely to consider exploring any of that. And after, well. Even if there was time for it, he had far more important things to care about than tending to his own desires. In that respect, at least, he and Yoo Joonghyuk were quite similar.
He winces as the thought comes, cursing how easy it is for the damn sunfish to permeate his mind. Ugh. Just how is he supposed to he face him tomorrow?
Now feeling uncomfortable both physically and emotionally, Kim Dokja slips out of bed and shuffles his way to the bathroom so he clean himself up.
The sooner he can erase the evidence, the sooner he may convince himself this whole thing never happened at all. Let it be a forgotten, distant memory. Dust in the wind.
But of course, it’s hardly that simple.
So, the next day, he pulls a ‘Yoo Joonghyuk.’
“Huh? You’re leaving?” Han Sooyoung asks, frowning around the lemon candy in her mouth. “You know that guy is looking for you, right?”
Kim Dokja’s expression hardens as he shoves the last few items into the infinite space of his coat. “I know,” he says darkly.
Han Sooyoung’s face contorts into a half-grin. “Woah,” she mutters. “What’s up with you? Trouble in paradise?”
He shoots her a flat look. “Nothing like that. The window for this hidden scenario is only open for a few hours. I just don’t have the time to speak with him now.”
“Ohh, I see,” she says, nodding. There’s a glimmer in her eyes that he doesn’t like. A smirk that says she sees right through him. “You’d better get going then.”
“I’d better,” he agrees, ignoring that knowing gaze of hers. He’s already in the process of opening a portal to the scenario’s location when a thought occurs to him suddenly. He pauses. “Maybe don’t tell Yoo Joonghyuk where I’m going.”
Han Sooyoung arches a brow.
“It could be troublesome if he tries to follow. After all, this scenario is only meant to be completed by one.”
She shakes her head at him slowly. “Yeah, whatever. I won’t tell.”
“Thank you.”
“Kim Dokja, you really…” she sighs, looking him straight in the eye. “Just don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”
He smiles. “I won’t.” He taps the holographic screen before him. A portal opens wide, distorting space to reveal another world waiting on the other side.
And in true Han Sooyoung fashion, she leaves him with one last piece of advice. “You know,” she says, “you can’t run away from him for long. The next scenario is coming up soon. Whatever this is—you’d better figure it out fast.”
His mouth presses into a line. He knows what she’s saying is true. Even so, his mouth stays shut as he steps through the portal, far away from his problems, and somewhere—his closest companion who he’s still not sure he can face.
It’s past midnight when he returns to the Industrial Complex. The halls are quiet and dark, and the reward he received from hidden scenario sits proudly in his pocket.
Not that it’s anything remarkable, really. Just a medicine that could be used to erase a few tricky status ailments. Which is useful, for sure.
However, at this point he could afford to purchase at least a hundred medicines with a similar effect—not to mention Lee Seolhwa is already well on her way to creating her miraculous Life and Death Pill.
Oh, well. None of it matters, anyway. The hidden scenario was only meant to serve as a distraction. Just an excuse to get away.
Kim Dokja yawns in the darkness, satisfied with the day’s endeavor. In the end, he’d successfully managed to evade the regressor. Yoo Joonghyuk could be a hard man to hide from. Somehow, he’d even managed to find Kim Dokja in the far-flung 73rd Demon Realm after his expulsion from the scenarios. So truly, this victory was no small feat.
The thought has only just crossed his mind when a strong voice sounds in the darkness.
“Kim Dokja.”
His head snaps up. Uh oh.
It’s hard to make out, but the figure is as unmistakable as the voice. Yoo Joonghyuk is standing there, arms crossed, with an icy glare that chills his bones.
“Ah,” he murmurs, shrinking back slightly. “Yoo Joonghyuk. You’re up late, aren’t you?”
He tries for casual, but Yoo Joonghyuk just huffs like it’s irritating. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all day.”
Kim Dokja bites his lip, feigning ignorance. “Have you?”
A log of messages received through Midday Tryst comes to mind.
-Kim Dokja.
-Where are you.
-We need to talk about our plan.
-Kim Dokja, I know you’re reading these.
-Kim Dokja—
“Sorry,” he shrugs. “I didn’t notice.”
[The exclusive skill ‘Lie Detection Lvl. 9’ is activated!]
[The exclusive skill ‘Lie Detection Lvl. 9’ has determined your words to be false.]
Kim Dokja’s mouth falls open slowly. “Hang on—“
“Kim Dokja,” he growls, “What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything—!”
[The exclusive skill ‘Lie Detection Lvl. 9’ has determined your words to be false!]
Yoo Joonghyuk steps forward angrily.
“Hey—no, wait. It has nothing to do with you!”
[The exclusive skill ‘Lie Detection Lvl. 9’ has determined your words to be false!!!]
“Quit doing that!!” Kim Dokja spits in exasperation.
“I’ll quit it when you start being honest.” Yoo Joonghyuk has him by the back of the neck before he knows it, shoving him forward as he walks.
Panic seeps through his defenses. Somewhat desperately, Kim Dokja reaches out to the fourth wall for aid, but he’s only met with a scoff.
[Ki m Dok ja is an id iot.]
Huh?
[Ki m Dok ja is on hi s own f or th is one.]
Indignantly, his lips bob up and down. It’s not exactly the first time he’s felt betrayed by this skill, but it still shocks him enough to feel a bit helpless without any extra fortification.
When he tries the wall again he’s met with no reply. Ugh, forget it.
His gaze flicks back to Yoo Joonghyuk. “Hey, Yoo Joonghyuk. We can talk about this,” he reasons, fighting against the regressor’s ironclad grip.
“Yes. We will.”
“Hey!” Kim Dokja shoves at his chest, feet stumbling to keep pace lest the bastard drag him instead. “Why do you care so much anyway?” he snaps.
“I care, because the main scenario is in three days and we need to go over the plan.” He throws a glare at Kim Dokja and his thrashing limbs. “Also—I’m not convinced you aren’t plotting something reckless behind our backs.”
“Who would do something reckless?” Kim Dokja swallows, opting for humor. “I know you aren’t talking about me—“
Yoo Joonghyuk tightens his grip hard.
“Okay, okay! It was a joke, so you can let me go…”
Bastard.
Yoo Joonghyuk tugs him around the corner. It’s hard to see exactly what expression he’s wearing. Kim Dokja has no idea why he’s acting like this. No idea what he’s thinking. If only he could—
…
Ah. Wait.
Maybe he really is an idiot.
The Fourth Wall might not be willing to lend him a hand, but it isn’t the only skill at his disposal, is it?
[The exclusive skill, ‘Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint’ stage 2 has been activated!]
Immediately, Yoo Joonghyuk’s thoughts drift to him unbidden, transformed into words to be read.
[Something is definitely wrong. If he’s planning to sacrifice himself again…]
[No matter. I’ll make him tell me the truth.]
And then, most frighteningly,
[Or else I’ll incapacitate him myself. If that’s what it takes.]
Kim Dokja gulps.
Shit.
Just what is he supposed to do here??
It’s not like he can actually tell him the truth. I mean, how can he say it?
You see, Yoo Joonghyuk, the truth is that I happened to have a very vivid sex dream about you last night. By the way, I quite liked it, too. And now, I’m not sure how to feel about it, because the mere sight of you is making me remember the way you looked an inch from my face, all wrecked and sweaty and moaning, too.
…He couldn’t say that!!!
In an instant, the full precariousness of the unfolding situation dawns on him, and he starts writhing more fiercely in his grasp.
“Damn it, Joonghyuk. Let me go!”
And then—he does.
Kim Dokja is released from his hold with a fierce shove that sends him stumbling into an unfamiliar space. Quickly, he looks around. It’s a bedroom, not unlike his own, yet scattered with the familiar traces of someone else he knows quite well.
Is this Yoo Joonghyuk’s room?
There’s little time to ponder it, however, because the sound of footsteps is right behind him. Yoo Joonghyuk approaches him like that of a tiger, with silent steps that conceal the power behind them. Reflexively, Kim Dokja finds himself backing away.
“Hey…” he starts uncertainly. Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze is chilling, demanding zero nonsense. Only when he’s a foot or two away does he stop, lifting his chin.
“Okay, Kim Dokja,” he says unhurriedly. “Let’s talk about it.”
He resists a shiver. Yikes…
Is it because he and the regressor have actually managed to grow fairly close throughout the scenarios? Somehow, Kim Dokja had forgotten how terrifying his companion could be when it comes to interrogation.
His lips fumble. “I’m… not planning to sacrifice myself if that’s what you’re worried about.”
[The exclusive skill ‘Lie Detection Lvl. 9’ is activated!]
[The exclusive skill ‘Lie Detection Lvl. 9’ has determined your words to be true.]
Yoo Joonghyuk’s anger retracts it’s claws ever-so-slightly.
Kim Dokja grumbles. “It’s not even about the upcoming scenario, you jerk.”
Maybe it’s because he’s finally started being truthful that Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t active ‘Lie Detection’ again. True to his word, he decides to hear him out.
“But it involves me,” Yoo Joonghyuk says flatly.
Kim Dokja tightens his lips, and averts his gaze.
“Kim Dokja.”
“So what if it does?” he blurts, frustrated by the persistent questions. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes bore into him. It’s a stare he feels ill-equipped to deal with without the Fourth Wall’s full support.
“It does, okay? Can we not… leave it at that?”
Yoo Joonghyuk watches him for a minute, brow knit in deliberation. Eventually, he exhales a sigh through his nose and shakes his head. “You’re avoiding me,” he says.
Kim Dokja smiles dryly. “Do I have to tell you everything?”
“I’d prefer you do,” he grumbles. “You always keep too much to yourself.”
At that, Kim Dokja snickers. There’s a retort on his tongue, but Yoo Joonghyuk cuts it short.
“You can trust me, you know.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes stare down some spot on the wall, lips pressed together in what looks like—hold on. Is he seeing this right? Because it nearly looks like the regressor is pouting, visibly upset by Kim Dokja’s apparent lack of faith.
He feels himself falter at the sight. A shake in his resolve. And then like always, Yoo Joonghyuk has to go and deliver the final, killing blow.
“Can we not talk like ordinary people just once?” His eyes find Kim Dokja’s again.
Can they talk like ordinary people…
Kim Dokja isn’t sure. They don’t really do that.
Yet, standing before Yoo Joonghyuk now, he can’t bring himself to say so. How could he, after everything they’ve been through together? In fact, thinking about it now, an honest conversation is probably long overdue.
Inhaling deeply, he holds that breath until he’s made up his mind. “Fine.” he relents, tearing his eyes away from Yoo Joonghyuk like the coward he is.
He licks his lips once. “I had a dream last night and you were in it,” seems like a good place to start.
“A dream,” Yoo Joonghyuk repeats.
“That’s right.”
Confusion deepens the furrow of his brow. “I assume there’s more to it than that.”
Almost immediately, Kim Dokja’s face flushes with shame. “Yoo Joonghyuk,” he says haltingly, “it’s embarrassing to admit.” And despite himself, he sneaks a glance his way, just to see if those words were clear enough.
He catches the precise moment understanding dawns on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face.
[Oh.]
Kim Dokja winces and quickly switches off the skill. He can’t bear to hear any more.
“Are you angry?” he asks quietly.
“…Why would I be angry?”
“I don’t know.”
Yoo Joonghyuk huffs, the way he always does before calling Kim Dokja a fool.
“It was a dream. It’s not a big deal.”
Kim Dokja laughs, low and dry. “Right. I guess not.” But even as he says so, he keeps his gaze to the floor. It’s much easier to look at right now than Yoo Joonghyuk’s handsome mug.
A brief silence sweeps over the room. Then, Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice comes again.
“What was it like?”
“What?”
“I’m asking what happened in your dream.”
Kim Dokja freezes. “Um.” Yoo Joonghyuk looks dead serious.
…Surely, he doesn’t mean—or rather—isn’t asking what Kim Dokja thinks he is. “Yoo Joonghyuk?”
That’s when the regressor slips off his coat. Folds it over his arm and sets it neatly on the dresser. Leans against it like he’s waiting.
“I don’t—“ Kim Dokja doesn’t know what to say, but searches for something—anything, to fill this awful silence.
“I don’t remember a lot,” he says quietly. “…I was in bed, you were there, and we were already—pretty far into it—okay?”
Kim Dokja watches his face harden. “No—don’t look at me like that,” he grumbles. “You asked.”
Yoo Joonghyuk pushes off the dresser and rolls his eyes as if he’d said something stupid. “Was it good?” he asks, striding closer.
Kim Dokja eyes him warily. “I don’t see how that’s important.”
A foot away from him now, Yoo Joonghyuk stills. And Kim Dokja feels, more than sees, the way his eyes move down his face.
“Well it involves me, right? Seems only fair I get to know how I performed.”
“Are you making fun of me right now?”
Yoo Joonghyuk angles his head like he’s trying to get a better look at him. “No,” he answers plainly.
Kim Dokja glares. “It feels like you are.”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t say anything to that. Just stares at him, ruminating, like he’s weighing something in his mind.
Kim Dokja shifts, suddenly very aware of that gaze and the sound of his own pulse, steadily growing louder in his ears. “What?” he says, a little more defensively than intended.
That’s when Yoo Joonghyuk makes his move. Two hands curl themselves tight around his waist.
“What are you—“ Kim Dokja’s eyes widen as he’s lifted from the ground and carried over to the bed. Yoo Joonghyuk drops him onto the mattress, rolling over him while Kim Dokja flounders for a moment in shock.
“What are you doing?!” he hisses through his teeth.
“Show me,” says Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Show you?! Did you get knocked on the head while I was gone or something?”
Yoo Joonghyuk frowns in displeasure. His grip on Kim Dokja loosens, not entirely, but enough to feel like a small retreat.
And if Kim Dokja didn’t know any better, he would have thought the man looked frustrated by the fact that he isn’t playing along. Which is completely ridiculous. Isn’t it?
“Honestly…” he mutters. “Why do you want to know so badly? Are you that starved for intimacy this turn? You need to know what happened in my wet dream?”
Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly—Kim Dokja can no longer decide which—Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t look insulted. The regressor merely watches him from above, then says, “you like stories, don’t you?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Kim Dokja scoffs. “You want me to tell you a story?”
Yoo Joonghyuk leans in dangerously close. “I want you to show me,” he repeats, voice low and hot. It goes straight through his chest, where his erratic heartbeat spikes adrenaline through his veins. Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath is warm, and it grazes the shell of his ear, prompting a shiver. “Show me how it ends,” he urges.
It’s a tone Kim Dokja has definitely never heard from the man before. He bites his lip.
He should stop this. He should push Yoo Joonghyuk away and return to his bedroom. Forget this ever happened. He should stop—even for just a moment—to clear his head and catalog every last reason why this is a terrible idea.
But then… Yoo Joonghyuk is here. He’s here and he’s close and he’s touching him, which effectively scatters any sense of rationale Kim Dokja has.
I want you to show me.
His hands are already reaching before he knows it, closing around Yoo Joonghyuk’s wrists. The regressor’s gaze is unwavering, and it burns like fire as Kim Dokja pulls him closer. Yoo Joonghyuk let’s himself be pulled.
You can trust me, you know.
He exhales a shaky breath. “You were over me like this,” he says.
Kim Dokja maneuvers him until he’s directly on top of him. Yoo Joonghyuk’s physique shadows his own face, where the man’s dark eyes linger still.
“Except I was…” he trails off.
It’s too distracting, the intensity of that stare. He doesn’t think he can finish the sentence. Isn’t even sure he remembers how to breathe. And just when did the room become so stiflingly hot?
Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze drops, but only to travel lower, stopping at his waist. “Show me.” he says again.
“It’s too embarrassing. I can’t.”
A hand finds it’s way to his hip, tightening around it. “Kim Dokja,” he says with an edge of impatience.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s brow is pinched, lips down-turned just the slightest bit. He decides it can’t quite be called a pout, but it’s certainly something close to it and that sends a strange thrill to Kim Dokja’s addled head.
A corner of his lip twitches and then he can only sigh. “…Okay,” he concedes, and before he can think too much of it—adds, “I’ll show you.”
Wetting his lips, his hands bunch up the fabric at his sides when he pushes himself up to sit. For a moment, his face is only an inch away from Yoo Joonghyuk’s—and he watches, with an awful fascination, the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes fall to his lips.
Kim Dokja only allows himself to stay like that a second longer, stifling the temptation to draw in closer, to eliminate the distance between them entirely. Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips are too inviting, smooth and flushed. He wonders, vaguely, what they’d taste like. Then he immediately discards the thought.
He adjusts himself, twisting his body around, and suddenly, feels very grateful for the excuse not to look at the man behind him. He lets his elbows sink into the sheets, chest flat against the bed while his hips are still raised.
Swallowing down his nerves, he lets his hips rock back until they knock against the body behind him. “It was like this,” he tells him, voice cracking slightly.
…Silence follows.
Not even a breath can be heard. There’s only the thrum of his own heartbeat, pounding like a drum. He winces—unsure whether it’s more from embarrassment or regret. Probably both. Maybe this is too much.
No—it’s definitely too much.
What the hell is he even doing?
Kim Dokja exhales shakily, about to shift away, when something stops him.
A hand, slow and sure, runs up the curve of his side, slipping past his coat to slide beneath the hem of his shirt. Calloused fingers press into his ribs and then—
A solid warmth, unmistakably defined, presses flush against his back.
His breath catches. On instinct, his mouth opens, but the sound that’s released is more of a gasp than any word.
“What else?” comes Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice, right at his ear. Like this, it sounds almost unrecognizable. Or maybe it only sounds that way because Kim Dokja has never heard him sound so… wanting before.
If that’s what it was. If he wasn’t reading this entirely, devastatingly wrong.
He sucks in a breath. “Yoo Joonghyuk,” he addresses, fully distracted now by the palms that slide over his torso and up to his chest. One of them drags over the sensitive skin of his nipple, and Kim Dokja’s face twists in a helpless expression.
“What’s happening right now?” he asks in a weak voice.
He needs to know. Is any of this real? Or is this just another fantasy, existing and imagined solely in his head.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands still, flattening against his skin. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks.
Stop?
Kim Dokja’s shoulders shake with a small laugh. “Did I say that?” His head drops against the pillow and turns to the side, where Yoo Joonghyuk can hear him clearly. “No. I just want to know why you’re doing this.”
Behind him, Yoo Joonghyuk expels a long sigh. “Kim Dokja.” The name sounds light on his tongue despite his annoyance. “Don’t be obtuse. You know why.”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Should I activate Lie Detection again?”
Kim Dokja’s mouth shuts at the threat. Then, Yoo Joonghyuk hums, which he translates to something like “that’s what I thought,” and Kim Dokja feels inclined to argue some more.
“You said you don’t like men,” he says pointedly.
This time, it’s Yoo Joonghyuk’s turn to fall silent.
A wry smile tugs at his lips. “So you're a liar. Or reevaluating. Okay.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffs out something akin to a cold laugh. “You have a loud mouth,” he scolds, shifting forward again. Kim Dokja’s body tenses when his head is abruptly lifted by a hand on his chin.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes scan over his face, studying, or maybe searching for something. Kim Dokja let’s him look. In turn, his gaze pours over Yoo Joonghyuk’s own features—the strong set of his jaw, his smooth tan skin, marred by the occasional scar. The sharp ridge of his nose and those double-lidded dark eyes that are so easy to lose yourself in.
Sometimes, Kim Dokja would look into those eyes and feel the whole world reflected back at him. Sometimes, he’d wonder if that was a normal thought to have about your companion.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue peeks out to wet his lips. “I can show you, if you let me. What it feels like when you’re awake.”
Kim Dokja’s mouth opens slowly. “What makes you think I don’t know already?”
“Do you?”
He says nothing.
Yoo Joonghyuk stares. “Are you not curious?”
He wants to laugh. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s so curious right now it could swallow him whole. Still—this time he isn’t here in a dream. Yoo Joonghyuk’s touch is very real and the offer is something irrevocable. Regardless of mutual want, it’s something they should probably walk away from before it’s too late.
“…I don’t know—“
“Don’t overthink it,” interrupts Yoo Joonghyuk. The hand on his chin drops, returning to his waist. Kim Dokja’s eyelids slip shut. The pressure is light, but sure. He gravitates toward it.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk breathes, and it sounds as if his voice is beginning to fray. “What do you want?” he asks while pushing against him again. Except this time, Kim Dokja can feel the unmistakable press of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hardness, flush with his ass.
A breath escapes him and he gives a curious roll of his hips, rubbing against it.
A surprised noise knocks itself from Yoo Joonghyuk’s throat and Kim Dokja’s blood rushes south. Feeling encouraged, he does it again and receives a low grunt.
“Fuck,” Kim Dokja whispers airily, speeding his movements up. Yoo Joonghyuk holds him there, then grinds into it too. Slowly, with an intent that makes his head swim. He nods quickly, “Okay, yes. I want this.” His voice is thick with need. “Can we—“
“Yes,” Yoo Joonghyuk exhales. His arms wrap around Kim Dokja’s chest, hauling him up into a sitting position. Kim Dokja shrugs off his coat, aided by Yoo Joonghyuk who throws it to the floor with little care. The scenario reward lies forgotten in its pockets, just another pretense abandoned in the wake of their want.
The rest of their clothing comes off just as fast.
That is—until Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands are unbuckling his belt and a ‘ping!’ noise sounds between them. Immediately, they trade a glance, eyes going wide.
“Shit—“ Kim Dokja hisses. He’d almost forgotten about their audience. He winces as he checks his inbox, already imagining how much damage control he’d need to do…
[Many constellations are excited by this new development!!!]
Kim Dokja’s face darkens. “Biyoo,” he calls, glancing back at Yoo Joonghyuk. For some reason, Yoo Joonghyuk looks far less bothered by the indirect message than he does. Kim Dokja can only shake his head, woefully embarrassed by everything the constellations had just witnessed.
Then, Biyoo appears, smiling brightly with her trademark ‘baat!’
He quickly covers her eyes before they can taint her innocence with the compromising situation they’re in.
“Um, Biyoo?” he begins, smiling awkwardly. “Would you mind closing the channel for a bit?”
“Baat?” Another notification pings as if in protest. He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says.
“Please,” he huffs. Biyoo makes another happy noise. It must mean yes, because a moment later she’s already gone, along with the live feed when he decides to check.
“Damn voyeurs,” he mutters, releasing a breath. Then, his eyes flick back to Yoo Joonghyuk, who's observing him with interest. “What is it?” Kim Dokja asks with a nervous laugh.
Yoo Joonghyuk slowly shakes his head. “Come here,” he says instead of answering.
His stomach does a funny flip. He slides closer at his request—and, as if to pick up right where they left off, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands return to the belt at his waist.
Dexterous fingers unbuckle it swiftly. Black leather is pulled through the loops of his pants and tossed to the floor. He sucks in a breath when Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers curl around the waistband, tugging it down to his thighs. Kim Dokja kicks it off the rest of the way.
And then—before he can even straighten up to sit, Yoo Joonghyuk plants a palm at his chest and shoves. Kim Dokja gasps as his back hits the sheets. Yoo Joonghyuk follows him down, pinning him with a hand on each shoulder.
Dazedly, Kim Dokja blinks up at him, shamelessly staring. It’s not the first time he’s seen Yoo Joonghyuk shirtless, but the context now is wildly different.
It stirs something in him. A desire to touch.
He plants his hands over Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest, palms running over solid muscle. His fingers take their time tracing the angle of his collar, the wide set of his shoulders, then slide down the well-defined bulk of the arms caging him in.
“Kim Dokja.” Fingertips slip past the hem of his underwear, tugging it down an inch. Kim Dokja gets the message and lifts his hip so Yoo Joonghyuk can pull it down the rest of the way.
He bites his lip when his cock is freed from its confinements, well past half-hard already.
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t give him much time to feel uncomfortable being naked. Because a second later the regressor takes him in hand and deliberately strokes him to full length.
Kim Dokja’s breath catches, his mind going blank.
Yoo Joonghyuk is touching him. He’s touching him, and there’s no question whether it’s real, because Kim Dokja could never imagine just how gratifying that would feel.
There’s a part of him that wonders if it’s not just because of the action, but because it’s Yoo Joonghyuk that it feels so good.
Then he realizes that’s an extremely risky line of thinking to follow, and decides it would be better to ignore the thought altogether.
Luckily, his attention is drawn again when Yoo Joonghyuk shifts. Sitting back on his heels, he pushes a few unruly strands of hair from his face. But it’s what he does next that makes Kim Dokja’s brain stop working entirely.
He leans down. A pair of lips wrap around his cock, tongue swirling lightly at its head.
“Oh—“ Kim Dokja’s hand flies to Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair, fingers twisting in and around the thick locks. He covers his mouth with the other, stunned by the noise pulled from his throat.
He lifts his head to look just as Yoo Joonghyuk takes more of him in, sinking down with way too much finesse for a man he knew to be doing this for the first time.
His head drops back to the pillow with a groan.
Kim Dokja shouldn’t even be surprised. Of course Yoo Joonghyuk’s protagonist halo would extend to things like this as well.
Another moan involuntarily escapes him when Yoo Joonghyuk starts to bob his head up and down, speeding up the action as he goes.
His mouth is warm and tight. Every slide of his tongue convinces him that nothing will ever feel better than this. That is—until Yoo Joonghyuk sinks down again, sucks, and he thinks the same thing again.
Kim Dokja’s hand tugs uselessly at his hair. “Yoo Joonghyuk—that’s,” he breathes.
He doesn’t finish the thought. Doesn’t even know what he wants to say. It’s like the words are running away from his lips. All he knows is that there’s a certain pressure building in him now.
At the rate things are going, he isn’t going to last.
He gives a more purposeful tug this time, pulling Yoo Joonghyuk off him. His dick slips out from the man’s lips, glossy with his spit. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes flick up to him darkly.
Kim Dokja’s breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath sucked into his lungs.
Without looking away, Yoo Joonghyuk climbs closer to him. Kim Dokja lashes flutter, lips parting when he feels a hand cup the base of his jaw. Yoo Joonghyuk leans in, and they’re barely an inch away from kissing when the regressor suddenly stills.
A breath is exchanged. Kim Dokja tilts his head. “What’s wrong?”
Yoo Joonghyuk hesitates. “Is it okay?” he asks somewhat ambiguously.
Kim Dokja has the sudden urge to laugh. “What, kissing?”
He wants to point out that Yoo Joonghyuk literally just had his dick down his throat. That to draw the line at kissing would be the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard.
But Yoo Joonghyuk looks serious, like it’s more complicated than that and honestly, it might be.
Still, he’s already indulged this much. What good would it do to stop now? “It’s fine,” he says with a shrug.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks unconvinced. “Are you—“
Kim Dokja takes his face in his hands, pulling him in. “Honestly… who’s the one overthinking now?” he murmurs against his lips.
He presses a firm kiss there before Yoo Joonghyuk can say anything else, lips dragging over his mouth. Again, something flutters in his chest.
Then, Yoo Joonghyuk leans into it too, and the full appeal of kissing strikes him like a lightning bolt from the King of Olympus. Sparks dance over his skin.
It’s really good.
His arms curl around Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck, tugging him closer. Pulling himself closer. It’s not enough.
Clumsily, he pushes Yoo Joonghyuk off so he can sit back up. Their lips part just long enough for Kim Dokja to climb into his lap, straddling his hips. Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands settle at his waist and then their lips collide again.
It’s really, really good.
Kim Dokja opens his mouth when he feels a tongue pressing in. It slides over his and a soft moan escapes him. Yoo Joonghyuk captures it with his own lips, then cranes his head for better access, like he’s determined to steal Kim Dokja’s air as well.
Kim Dokja knows—too, that there’s something off about it. That this is too desperate for a hookup. Too raw to mean nothing at all.
It’s uncontrolled. Rushed, wild motion, like a volatile flame. Like fear. Like they’re running out of time.
Then again, Yoo Joonghyuk has all the time in the world—so, maybe the problem is his his own.
Without pulling away, a hand blindly reaches between them for Yoo Joonghyuk’s belt. Kim Dokja's fingers fumble to remove it, undoing the clasp and pulling it off as hastily as he can.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue laves over his while Kim Dokja thrusts a hand down his pants.
Yoo Joonghyuk groans. He’s already fully erect and his dick gives a twitch at the sudden attention.
Kim Dokja massages the base before sliding upwards, stroking in slow, steady motions. Yoo Joonghyuk glances down to see it, forehead resting against his.
Then lips turn to his jaw, kissing a trail over the taut skin. He licks a strip down his neck—sucks, and earns himself a low moan for his efforts.
Yoo Joonghyuk clutches his arm. “Kim Dokja,” he rasps. “Take them off.”
“Hm? Take what off?” he smirks.
Admittedly, he’s enjoying himself way too much. He’s never seen Yoo Joonghyuk so affected. It’s so much better than he imagined and has him feeling terribly emboldened.
The smile he wears now must look like that of a demon’s, but hey—as the old saying goes—if the shoe fits, wear it.
“Kim Dokja.” he glares. Clearly, Yoo Joonghyuk is less amused by his flippancy.
“What?” he objects, pulling his hand out from his pants. “Use your words, Joonghyuk-ah,” he teases. “Since you know how much I like them.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes narrow fiercely. His gaze is so sharp Kim Dokja swears it could cut him down right then and there.
Well… as it so happens, Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze does not slice him in two. He is, however, pushed back into the covers for the third time that night with no small amount of force.
He flinches slightly, and opens his eyes to the sight of Yoo Joonghyuk promptly shoving down his own damn pants, underwear and all.
Kim Dokja blinks. Looks.
Yoo Joonghyuk is exceptionally well-endowed; he could tell as much from the handjob, sure, but seeing it is a different thing altogether.
He tries to imagine how such a thing is supposed to fit inside him, and wonders if it’s not too late to back out now.
Yoo Joonghyuk notices his stare. He says nothing as he quickly purchases something from the Dokkaebi Bag. But Kim Dokja is pretty sure the trace of a smirk at his lips isn’t just his imagination. He’s also pretty sure he knows exactly what Yoo Joonghyuk has bought.
Sure enough, a small bottle appears in his hand. Yoo Joonghyuk twists off the cap and pours some of the liquid onto his fingers.
Kim Dokja eyes it warily, while Yoo Joonghyuk draws in closer.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he thinks to ask. This is his first time with a man too, after all.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him strangely. “I know enough.”
Kim Dokja raises a brow. “That’s not as assuring as you think it is.”
“The mechanics aren’t that different,” he states, settling between his legs. He parts Kim Dokja’s thighs to give him more room, then adds, “once you’ve handled the extra steps.”
“That feels like a gross oversimplification.”
“Kim Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk huffs. A finger prods lightly at his entrance, and he sucks in a breath. “It’s not that complicated. If you’re nervous, just say so.”
Indignantly, Kim Dokja opens his mouth to argue.
Then Yoo Joonghyuk’s finger pushes into him slowly, and he forgets whatever it was he wanted to say. There’s little resistance due to the lubricant, so it slides in to the knuckle quite easily. He exhales a breath, slightly relieved.
This isn’t so bad, he thinks, until Yoo Joonghyuk starts adding a second and it’s immediately more of a stretch. He purses his lips and tries not to tense up, but it’s easier said than done.
“Okay?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks.
Which is weird. He hadn’t expected the man to be so attentive.
“Fine,” he mutters, brow furrowing. “You’re sure you know what you’re doing?”
The regressor frowns. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” Kim Dokja rolls his eyes. “I’m just wondering when it’s supposed to start feeling good."
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes survey him closely. Then his fingers start to move again, twisting and prodding like they’re searching for something. Concentration draws his features into a focused expression, and Kim Dokja gets the impression Yoo Joonghyuk has taken his words as a personal challenge.
Which is kind of endearing, if he thinks about it. The idea that Yoo Joonghyuk would take something like this as seriously as he would his—
“Aah…“
He freezes the same moment Yoo Joonghyuk stills. Issue is—now his fingers are pressing against that same damned spot, and it’s sensitive enough to feel all at once like too much. His body twists in an attempt to ease the pressure and ends up doing the opposite. Another moan leaves him before he can stop it.
Yoo Joonghyuk thrusts his fingers there again.
Kim Dokja gives him a shove. “Will you stop that?” he demands, face burning with a flush. “Just—get on with it already.”
“You aren’t ready yet.”
“I’m telling you that I am,” Kim Dokja grumbles. He sneaks another glance at Yoo Joonghyuk’s length. And truth be told, he isn’t sure that he is ready. But it seems like the lesser of two evils in the moment. The rest he can figure out as he goes.
Yoo Joonghyuk nods and complies. Kim Dokja’s surprised by the strange emptiness he feels when his fingers are taken out. He hadn’t noticed himself getting used to the stretch.
And then Yoo Joonghyuk lines himself up with his entrance, meeting his gaze when he does.
“Tell me if it hurts,” is the last thing Yoo Joonghyuk says to him before he feels the tip start pressing in. Belatedly—he nods.
It’s a slow stretch, and Yoo Joonghyuk takes his time, easing himself in with an impressive degree of restraint. Kim Dokja’s hands clutch his shoulders tightly, bracing them for support as Yoo Joonghyuk breaches him further.
The sensation is similar to the preparation, yet also nothing like it—Yoo Joonghyuk hits him far deeper like this and the stretch is much, much wider.
But it’s also way more thrilling. Slight pain notwithstanding, he feels an acute sense of gratification at being taken in this way. At being able to do this for his companion, who’s obviously been pent up as well.
It’s more intimate and intense than anything Kim Dokja would have ever thought possible for the two of them.
Yoo Joonghyuk bottoms out suddenly, sliding in the rest of the way with a sharp thrust that punches a gasp from his mouth. Kim Dokja’s hands dig into him harder.
“Fuck,” he whispers, head spinning as he tries to reconcile the feeling of being completely filled with the knowledge that it’s by Yoo Joonghyuk. It’s an incredible, intoxicating thought that he’s definitely going to be thinking about for a while.
The regressor’s eyes drop to his face, watching him quietly.
It isn’t clear who leans in first, only that when their lips meet they’re both eager to taste. Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue slips into his mouth. Kim Dokja nibbles at his lower lip. He’s too focused on the kiss to notice the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s weight shifts more ardently atop him—and so, he doesn’t expect it when Yoo Joonghyuk starts to rock his hips.
Kim Dokja falters, lips parting slowly. Yoo Joonghyuk’s head dips into the crook of his neck. Having been met with little resistance, his thrusts pick up speed.
And—oh.
There it is again. A deep thrust hits that spot and a strangled noise escapes him—a moan and cry wrapped up into one awful, exposing sound.
He bites his lip in shame, realizing now it might be hard to keep quiet. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, doing his best to at least partially muffle the sounds when they come.
It doesn’t take long for Yoo Joonghyuk to notice—and he must not approve—because he swats his wrist away and pins it to the bed.
“Joonghyuk,” he says pleadingly, but the man shakes his head no, thrusts slowing to a rhythmic drag.
“Let me hear you,” he says on a long slide out. Kim Dokja frowns, but then his hips snap back in roughly, sharp and fast, and it coaxes a moan from them both.
His pace doesn't slow down from there.
Every thrust is filled with intent—every slam hits home with a precision that might be terrifying if it wasn’t also the most profound thing he’d ever felt. The force of it has him sliding further and further up the bed only for strong hands to tug him right back down.
He keens, hand twisting blindly to grip the pillow at his head. It’s not much, but he claws it like a tether while Yoo Joonghyuk splits him apart.
There reaches a point where he stops caring about how vocal he’s being. It just seems like such a stupid thing to dwell on when Yoo Joonghyuk is just as affected and makes no attempt to hide his own sounds.
“Kim Dokja,” he gasps, driving into him harder. Kim Dokja likes that.
So far, he's noticed, Yoo Joonghyuk has managed to keep a lid on his own need in favor of sating his. Which was quite nice of the guy and all, but he wanted Yoo Joonghyuk to take what he wanted, too. Whatever that was.
This is what he tells himself—that it’s only in the name of equivalent exchange.
If he’s being honest, though, it’s probably just him being selfish.
This side of Yoo Joonghyuk is unknown to him. The rasp of his voice when he moans, the powerful rhythm he sets with his hips—the weight of his body, the feel of his skin, and the way he seems to like Kim Dokja on his back.
These things couldn’t be found anywhere in the thousands upon thousands of pages he’d read. So. It couldn’t be helped that Kim Dokja would want to learn everything now that he has the chance.
He speaks to Yoo Joonghyuk plainly. “Feels good. Keep—“ he gasps, “Keep doing that. Just take what you want.”
Yoo Joonghyuk groans, like he’s in pain. His head lifts and his gaze snaps to his. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he says accusingly.
“Doing what?”
“Provoking me.”
Kim Dokja runs a thumb over his cheek, wiping at a bead of sweat. “Is it working?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands grip his hips, tugging him even closer. He mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like, “you truly are a demon,” and Kim Dokja smiles, wrapping his legs around his back.
Then, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips snap into him with force that can only be described as unforgiving.
“Ah—fuck,” he whines loudly. Yoo Joonghyuk watches him darkly and it’s like every last fiber of the man’s restraint unravels at once. His pace borders on violent, slapping into him like he needs it, and all Kim Dokja can hear is the sound of sex in the room, stripped raw and obscene.
A hands flies to his chest. “Joonghyuk—” his voice breaks off.
He feels it again, that mounting, blissful pressure and knows he won't last much longer. He tries to tell him, tapping his shoulder and Yoo Joonghyuk seems to get the message, vague as it is.
Yoo Joonghyuk puts a hand on his stomach, then drags it lower to wrap around his cock again.
He groans, body twisting as Yoo Joonghyuk pulls him closer to that edge, never slowing, even when it’s clear he’s nearing that same release himself.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s breathing is more erratic now, punctuated more frequently by these low, rough moans that might be the most addicting sound Kim Dokja’s ever heard.
He grips his shoulder hard. “Don’t—“ he gasps. “Don’t pull out.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze lifts to him. “What?”
Kim Dokja wets his lips—realizing suddenly—that he really is every inch as depraved as his subconscious mind already knew. “Do it inside me.” he says, splaying a hand over a stomach to get the point across.
“Kim Dokja, you—“ Yoo Joonghyuk looks shocked at the request. Sharp eyes move there as if pulled by some invisible force and then he shakes his head. “Damn it.”
Kim Dokja’s shoulders shake, chuckling. He likes this side of Yoo Joonghyuk. Unguarded and real. It’s as if every barrier between them has crumbled down and now, they see each other for the first time.
“Want it in me,” he carries on, breathless but determined to see how far he can push. “Want to see it dripping out—“ a hand is slapped over his mouth.
“That’s enough,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls, but there’s a flush in his cheeks that Kim Dokja doesn’t miss.
He smirks, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand strokes him with more vigor. It's delightful friction. And few more strokes is all that it takes for Kim Dokja to arch his back, crying out as the dual stimulation tips him over the edge, vision going white.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand drops away from his mouth and Kim Dokja’s body twists, ravaged by the overwhelming sensation that offers no escape. Yoo Joonghyuk stops stroking him, but his hips keep their pace, slamming into him hard.
“Oh—fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut. “I can’t, I can’t—“
It’s too much, but Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t stop. “Bear with it,” he says, far too gently for someone who’s fucking him an inch within his life.
"Dokja,” he gasps and then his breaths begin to stutter, followed by his hips.
Kim Dokja bites his lip. “Joonghyuk, please,” he breathes and that seems to be enough for Yoo Joonghyuk to find his release, too. A broken noise escapes him the same time he gives one last thrust, sliding in deep as he spills into Kim Dokja.
His breath catches, surprised by the ensuing warmth he feels. It almost dizzying, the satisfaction he feels at having made Yoo Joonghyuk cum. It's only multiplied by the fact that it sits inside of him now, even when Yoo Joonghyuk shifts, pulling out with a low groan from them both.
Curiously, his eyes flicker down, but he can’t really see anything other than his own spend streaking over his stomach.
Yoo Joonghyuk sneaks a glance though, and his expression looks dazed enough to paint the picture before he tears his eyes away.
Kim Dokja clears his throat. He's about to say something, he thinks, when Yoo Joonghyuk drops over him suddenly, as if he couldn't be bothered to hold himself up any longer.
He's laying on Kim Dokja's chest now, cheek pressed against him. Their breaths even out slowly, steadily matching the other's rhythm. It's nice.
"So." Yoo Joonghyuk says then.
"'So,' what?"
Yoo Joonghyuk looks up at him. "Was that better than your dream?"
It takes Kim Dokja a few moments too long to realize that Yoo Joonghyuk is teasing him. "Oh god," he mumbles, feeling mortified. He rubs at his eyes and can feel the flush creeping up his neck.
Then, he laughs. "Yeah," he admits warmly. "That was better."
Another puff of laughter looses itself from his chest. And suddenly, it's hard to stop the chuckles, because it's such a stupid question.
"I mean, obviously. Would you believe me if I said no?"
Yoo Joonghyuk smiles. Of course he wouldn't believe that nonsense.
A beat of silence sits comfortably between them. There's no hurry to say anything, even with the delicate question hanging in the air.
Does this change anything?
Truthfully, it's likely neither of them are ready to touch that uncertainty yet. Kim Dokja knows he isn't, in any case. For Yoo Joonghyuk, it's probably the same.
But that's okay. They could both take some time to find their answer.
Kim Dokja runs a hand through Yoo Joonghyuk's hair. "Do you want me to leave or stay?" he asks, in a tone that says either would be alright.
"Why would I want you to leave?" Yoo Joonghyuk replies.
Kim Dokja shrugs. "I don't know how these things usually go."
Yoo Joonghyuk stares, a dismal expression clouding his face. "No," he says, shaking his head, like Kim Dokja was woefully off base here. "No. It's fine if you stay."
As if to prove the point, his arms slip beneath him, enveloping him in a solid embrace. Yoo Joonghyuk shifts his head again to rest on him the same way he would a pillow. And Kim Dokja feels immeasurably relieved, because despite his indifferent words, there's not a place he'd rather be in this moment.
"Okay," he says softly. "Then I'll stay for tonight."
And so—with that now settled, he wiggles himself into a more comfortable position, then rests an arm over Yoo Joonghyuk. His eyelids are already slipping shut when he feels the rumble of Yoo Joonghyuk's words against his chest.
"Sweet dreams, Kim Dokja." is the last thing the jerk says.