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Jaeyi and Ideum maintain their arrangement for months before Jaeyi finally invites him over. After all, there’s always Ideum’s residence, which he could tread to blind, despite any cloth Wooyoung might tie on him in the name of celibacy, or whatever it is he wants to preach that week before forgetting it the next.
It’s cozy enough, apart from the enormous wall-mounted bookshelf crammed with pornographic novels and research material that Ideum could throw out, considering Jaeyi barged into his guileless life and tore down the facade of those already-stripped walls. Made of glass, more like. Because if there’s anyone who can rival Jaeyi in thirst, it’s Ideum, hands down.
The way Jaeyi sees it, the perfect place for their encounters is this one, bare-bones like its tenant. Though no less boring for it.
So there’s no need to invite guests over to his own place. Not even Ko Ideum.
It isn’t until he finds Ideum up on the rooftop, like in their starting days, that Ideum confesses how washing the sheets every time Jaeyi forgets to put down a towel has become an expensive hassle that takes time away from his writing —and, as Jaeyi assumes, spent playing with himself— so he’d like to see Jaeyi’s residence, at least once.
As Ideum says this with that same flutter of arms and lips that never fails to make Jaeyi snicker, Jaeyi stops potting the spring crocus he’d just planted to wave Ideum over. Though in the end it’s Jaeyi who carries him there, since Ideum can’t stop shaking like a leaf.
“Wow,” he gapes the moment he steps inside Jaeyi’s house.
Rows upon rows of plants greet them: elephant ears, fiddle-leaf figs, birds of paradise. All of these line the entryway and crowd the windows too, suffocating the counters. He’s gone so far as to hang herbs from the baker’s rack for easy access. Not that he uses them much. Still, the basil growing there gives his kitchen a homey smell, as Seokwon would put it.
Yes, little by little, his home is becoming a veritable botanical garden, teeming with plant life and nothing else. Jaeyi hates to admit it, but in a way it’s nice. He isn’t so much ashamed of his new hobby as he is protective of it.
Jaeyi swerves around the monstera in the hallway and heads to the cabinet for a black plastic bag.
“You can come in, you know?” He snorts when Ideum stands stunned in his doorway, not moving a muscle, nostrils twitching in the direction of a tiny bonsai Jaeyi had to replant after it started attracting ants.
“All this…” Ideum marvels behind him. Jaeyi hears his footsteps while he bags the crocus pot and ties it off.
They brush shoulders when Jaeyi opens the fridge and sets the sprout in the second drawer, away from the fruit. When he shuts the door and turns to look at Ideum, he finds him flushed to the neck like one of the many strawberries crowding his shelves.
“Don’t tell me this is my fault,” he pouts at Jaeyi. “I already told you the window incident won’t happen again— I’ve seen you looking out, you know!”
Fair. Lately, Jaeyi throws the curtains wide open, as Ideum claims, sparing him any complaints. It’s true he no longer needs plants to avoid feeling suffocated in his house these days; and yes, it’s also a real thing that he no longer pops an erection the closer he stands by the window. In fact, a trip to that one spot has become a normal part of his routine now.
In the mornings, he takes his cup to it and fixes his eyes on Ideum’s shut blinds while he sips his extra-bitter coffee. And it’s the same when he returns from class. At least in the afternoons he actually goes back to his place, instead of running straight from campus, bag in hand and schedule fresh, to his neighbor’s door without so much as crossing his own threshold.
On the days he does come home first, though, his chin always ends up pointing at the concrete landscape outside. Where, if there’s no plastic jail blocking Jaeyi’s view, he can usually catch Ideum hunched over on the cheap desk in his room. Not over his laptop screen, but from the quivering flex of his crescent back, Jaeyi assumes he’s working hard all the same. That being the usual hands-on research that pushed Jaeyi into gardening in the first place.
His least favorite sights, no doubt, are the nights Ideum’s shutters half-close in haste, leaving Jaeyi to drink in the figure balled beneath a flower-print duvet, dozing off; a glint on the pillow that, when caught from Jaeyi’s side of the road, darkens into an obvious drool stain.
It’s so unusual that he doesn’t linger there for long. No, Jaeyi calls his phone, reveling in the stirring of the mountain cozied under cotton, and the trickle of groggy mumbling that follows.
Ideum hands him the code to his place. Dangerous. It isn’t smart to hand strangers access like that, especially not when it’s Jaeyi who slinks through the doorway and clicks the lock behind him, streetlights bleeding in through the colored panes and lighting his sneakers as he looms there.
It’s better when he can sneak into bed with Ideum and study him up close. That way, Jaeyi gets to touch him and laugh at his ridiculous reactions. He considers it a fair payback. Just weeks ago he couldn’t draw his own curtains because of Ideum. And watching Ideum sleep like a log, lacking a shred of guilt, knots his forehead.
Out of irritation, he assumes. Though he can’t say for sure yet.
A similar feeling settles in his chest when his entertained stare meets Ideum’s glare.
“It’s true I only started gardening because of you,” Jaeyi replies.
On the toe of Ideum’s slipper is a ribbed leaf, emerald all over except for its center, which is flecked almost gold. Jaeyi crouches to pinch it between his index finger and thumb.
“But I guess these little things grew on me.”
Ideum squeezes his eyes as Jaeyi’s hand reaches for him. And then his eyelids shift into a sunset, lines growing around the delicate skin of his sockets, lashes fluttering like magpie wings flapping against the skylight. All because Jaeyi traces the leaf across the smooth bone of Ideum’s cheek and down along his quavering throat.
“This one reminds me of you, actually.”
As usual for Jaeyi, he drops his gaze to Ideum’s bare, trembling legs. He can’t catch how his lips move from here, but he can imagine the twitch of them well enough.
“O-Oh, really? Why?”
“For starters,” Jaeyi begins. Beneath Ideum’s red shorts is a mark blaring the same color, one he bit there last night. If Jaeyi smooths the fabric flat and rucks it up, he’d spot several more like it.
“Early in the day, these leaves lie level.”
As if to prove it, he kneels to drag the veined side of the leaf across Ideum’s wobbly thigh, the tip almost grazing the imprint left behind by his fangs.
“And then, once night falls, and they fold straight up.”
He stops the blade before it can cross the boundary between air and thigh. Ideum’s flesh prickles around the teeth stamped on white, tiny hairs on high alert.
“That— that sounds cool,” Ideum stumbles over the words, his squeak whistling somewhere above Jaeyi’s scalp.
“Yeah,” Jaeyi agrees, a crooked grin etched on his lips.
He finds it hilarious how Ideum refuses to open his eyes. Frustrating, too.
“Wanna guess what it’s called?”
He swallows his snort; if he laughs, Ideum might get mad at him, and right now Jaeyi isn’t trying to feed his rambling.
“How should I know that?” Ideum huffs, predictable as ever, long fingers twirling where they’re raised over the corny design printed on his black shirt. “I don’t know the first thing about plants.”
As Jaeyi’s been trying to do since he found Ideum loitering on the rooftop, hanging up wet sheets ruined by their shared appetite, he rakes his palm —leaf and all— along the side of Ideum’s leg. His fingertips slip underneath the elastic band of the thin lycra.
Ideum squeals, and when Jaeyi lifts his nose, he finds that Ideum’s face has gone as ruddy as his shorts.
“Guess I gotta teach you more stuff, then,” Jaeyi murmurs. He clicks his tongue, pretending to be annoyed by the idea, then tips his head until his lips brush Ideum’s burning skin, adding, “Starting with that prayer plant right behind you.”
If possible, Ideum darkens further.
“Prayer plant?” he stutters, his throat working down a loud gulp. “Is that— that’s what it’s called?”
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
Sunlight pours in through the window, curtains drawn back, its heat scorching Jaeyi’s nape, the only exposed patch of his body. He begins to sweat under the dark denim of his gardening clothes.
It’s not so different from the unusual work his new hobby requires of him: brushing two long stems with gloved hands as if he were going to trim their thorns. He kisses one of them, fangs pricking fair legs as his mouth climbs, slow, pausing right over the visible bulge lifting the mesh of Ideum’s shorts.
Jaeyi lets one brow quirk as he peeks up.
“S-Sorry! You’re just… really hot when you talk about plants.”
“Me nerding out turns you on?” Jaeyi chuffs. The answer to his question comes in the shape of a bottom lip bitten by a row of misaligned front teeth.
Jaeyi stops muffling his chuckles to raise his kisses again, holding Ideum’s hips steady as he presses one to the drawstring tucked beneath Ideum’s black tee. And another to Ideum’s navel, tenting the cheap fabric, yanking at the offender so he can brand his lips on the flaming skin without any barrier.
Jaeyi lets his tongue escape again, but, to his surprise, Ideum shoves Jaeyi’s head before he can tuck it into the shirt, and traps it there.
The soft rustle of the leaf slipping from Jaeyi’s palm and hitting the flat surface of his floor is the only sound he hears after straightening up. Ideum shakes as Jaeyi’s stare drills into him.
Okay. No teasing then.
He dives in instead, searching for those rosy lips. Again, he’s stopped clean by a pair of unsteady hands.
“We can’t kiss,” Ideum blurts.
“Why not?” Jaeyi asks, amused and bemused by the whole thing still.
It isn’t like Ideum to push Jaeyi away whenever he goes for his mouth. If anything, that’s precisely why Jaeyi kisses him, because it’s unthinkable Ideum will ever break their rules. He is the kind of person who doesn’t ask “What are we?” after one night of sharing an accidental peck, after all. Nor does he insist either.
Jaeyi can count on one hand the times Ideum’s demanded something and been refused. The only thing being a blowjob; if Ideum keeps his mouth shut, Jaeyi could close his eyes and mistake him for anyone.
And it’s not like that’s any fun.
“I don’t have my bandage on.”
It’s not fun. Jaeyi’s never met another guy capable of matching his freak enough to feel no shame over it. Or at least not show it. Although a couple of weeks were enough for him to realize embarrassment is something internal for Ideum. Different from Jaeyi’s own definition of it. No matter how many times he braves in front of Ideum, this is the one battle he can’t win.
Exactly three and a half months have passed since then.
Jaeyi is almost shocked he can still be caught off guard. Ideum turns around, eyes clouding as he glances back over his shoulder, fingers slipping beneath his waistband as he says, “That’s why we can’t kiss. You have to fuck me from behind.”
Jaeyi’s nostrils flare.
“Strip.”
His snake plant —watered before he climbed the stairs to treat new crocus seeds— drips from its pointed leaf, a bead falling onto the small puddle shadowing the floorboards.
“W-Where’s your bedroom?”
“Strip.”
The pot hisses when Ideum’s eyes dilate.
“But the windows,” Ideum stammers, flitting his brown irises to the afternoon light filtering through the panes.
“Since when are you afraid of those?”
Jaeyi’s steps are slow, one after another, as they stomp through the cracks in the wood, towards the nearest drawer, where his shears are. He rips off his gloves in one swift motion, throwing them somewhere near the stools, and starts digging.
After rummaging over the mess inside, past the triangular edge of two blades and worn-down swimming goggles, Jaeyi finds an open package with the only three foils he carries in his wallet to university. Along with the travel-size lube he doesn’t bother bringing anywhere anymore. He’d rather rely on the full-size bottle he keeps at Ideum’s these days instead.
He spots more condoms stuffed under a big leaf he doesn’t remember placing there, and decides to switch them to his bag for future use.
Untouched tube in hand, he turns to the living room, his eyes sizzling where they land on Ideum, who’s naked except for his tacky shirt.
“I want all of them off,” Jaeyi orders, clipped. “And turn around.”
Despite the complaint that follows Jaeyi’s demand, Ideum obeys, small hands on the glass after shrugging off his final article of clothing, his spine facing Jaeyi. There’s a pot there: a small pothos. Green, like everything else Jaeyi keeps here, its soil staining the ivory surface where the plant sits. Ideum’s fingers blanch the same color, and when Jaeyi wipes the sweat from that slender back with one broad palm, they brighten further.
The snake plant to the frame’s left trickles its last, clear drops jumping onto the heart-shaped leaf of the dry pothos below, and then plunges.
Ideum leaks right next to it. With a hiccup Jaeyi can hear, unlike the derisive hissing of his tallest plant.
He ignores both yowls and uncaps the lube with a smirk.
“You were thinking about me all morning, weren’t you?”
Cold engulfs his fingers first, glossy and sticky, before he curls them inside his palm, warming the thick substance so as not to receive a scolding like yesterday. He rolls them, gaze fixed on the threads that connect his two longest when they split.
“Yes…”
Ideum faces him at the precise moment Jaeyi pushes one bulky finger inside, in time for him to see Ideum’s pupils blow wide. Greedy as they are.
Ideum’s spine curves too. His agape mouth hangs in a silent yell that explodes into a bass line, “This is all I think about... all day.”
Again, Ideum wrings another grunt out of Jaeyi’s sealed teeth with his impatience, rocking his hips until he swallows Jaeyi’s finger to the knuckle.
When Ideum gets like this, meaning, when he mixes his writer-sona with his fuckbuddy-sona to morph into his most perverse self… sona, words tumble with ease from his slippery lips.
He’s so eager. It’s something else.
The change of scenery has to play a part in it too.
“Every single day,” Ideum breathes, “I just want you to come over and— and come inside me.”
Well, fuck. Jaeyi feels the skin across his jawline tighten.
He wants to comply, though he can’t tell how hard Ideum’s worked himself up over it today. Knowing him, no hour is a deterrent to shoving something up his ass. And yet he flinches around the mere digit Jaeyi’s slipped in there, so Jaeyi doesn’t dare push his luck.
Ideum keeps getting better at pleasing him with each passing day, and if Jaeyi, blind to the consequences, were to hand Ideum’s wants over, he wouldn’t last any longer.
Which makes no sense. And it’s irritating.
Jaeyi withdraws his index finger —calloused from the weights his trainer makes him lift on weekends— until only the pad remains inside. Before pushing it in again, he adds his middle one. Then thinks about it a little more, and decides to join his ring finger too.
Ideum cries out, clawing at the faultless window supporting him.
“Please, Jaeyi— put it in,” he pants. “I want to feel it inside me. I want— I want it so bad.”
Jaeyi is stuck wearing every piece of his gardening outfit. He’s overheating, hands too occupied to do a thing about it, other than rip his palm from where it’s caging Ideum’s small waist long enough to yank his own navy jeans to the knees. He sighs when his erection bounces on his abdomen, hard and standing at attention; it’s so relieving that it coerces his three fingers to twist inside Ideum.
His hand squelches on the pull out. And squishes on the push back in.
Ideum sobs.
The sight alone hypnotizes Jaeyi. Lube oozes from Ideum’s hole, glistening all the way down his unsteady legs, and weeps a generous dollop onto Jaeyi’s shaft; enough added weight to dip it a single centimeter.
His molars are about to grind into dust.
After using the sticky mess to slick up, he slips his more than hard cock —smooth thanks to Ideum— between those teetering thighs, and leaves it there for a moment, not budging a single hair.
Layered over the puddle pooling at his feet is the steady patter of Ideum’s slit. Reactive as usual.
Jaeyi grunts at the snug squeeze choking his shaft, legs pressed so tight he can almost feel the shape of Ideum’s femurs beneath the muscle, and bares his teeth when he watches Ideum shift those hips back and forth.
“Is this what you want, Ideum-hyung?” He groans, tongue lolling out a second too long before plucking it in.
“No.” Ideum shrieks in a broken octave. “No.”
“Then how do you want it?”
Ideum flushes down to his shoulders.
His neighbor is a starving man. Witnessing it is one thing. Inviting that hunger into his own life —seeing the window fog up until the outside world disappears, handprints smearing the glass— is something else.
“I want— fuck, I want you to fuck me like you’ve had a rough day. Like you’re frustrated and need to take it out on something.”
Jaeyi has a vague thought; Ideum must have at least a little voyeurism buried in him. Or a lot. If dragging Ideum to the window is all it takes to make him beg for more, Jaeyi regrets not pulling this shit sooner.
“Take it out on me,” Ideum keeps pleading. “Fuck me until you feel better.”
The poor pothos leaf snaps off its stem and flattens on Ideum’s shoulder blades.
Jaeyi still itches to laugh, but holds it, as it’ll just annoy Ideum. He figures he’ll get around to exploring their kink avenues later, when Ideum’s not so desperate. And neither is he, for that matter.
“Jaeyi… hurry.”
Ideum is turning into a bad influence.
Jaeyi’s vision doubles when he propels his swollen head inside, then whitens out when he lets it follow in one full, untested thrust, shoving Ideum open until a piercing scream rattles the pane and pots around them.
Jaeyi pushes him up against the window to reach around and fondle the mess Ideum’s made of himself, earning a loud squeal for it.
“Hurry… stop teasing m—!”
So Jaeyi gives Ideum exactly what he’s asking for.
“Jaeyi!”
His eyes damn near hit the ceiling.
Ideum’s body is so tight that it resists, pushing Jaeyi out even as it begs him to stay and build a home inside its walls. It’s such a whiplash of sensation that Jaeyi braces a hand against the side of the frame to avoid tipping over, one palm flat against the wall and the other belted around Ideum’s thrashing waist.
There’s no doubt that any civilians passing through would hear Ideum’s screeching, calling for Jaeyi’s cock.
“I-Is that good?” Ideum babbles. Jaeyi almost can’t tell what he’s trying to say. “Do— do you feel better?”
“Shit, yes,” he pants back.
Jaeyi slows his thrusts to let Ideum string together a proper sentence. Though he impacts harder to make up for it. Each blow forces Ideum to sob every few seconds.
“Is it too much?”
Ideum shakes his head where it’s pressed against the glass. “No, no, it’s good— don’t worry about me.”
As if wanting to reassure Jaeyi, Ideum folds his shaky fingers against the pane and rebounds his hips. Precum splatters over the smooth metal splitting the window into fourths.
“Don’t stop,” he moans. “Deep like that please.”
Jaeyi’s eyelids shutter until they yield for good. He runs his hands up Ideum’s sides and glues his still-clothed torso flush to Ideum’s wet back, burying his nose in that scorching neck.
“Mmm.” His pelvis snaps once. “Tell me more about how you like it.”
From the months Jaeyi has spent dismantling Ideum’s inhibitions, he’s learned to read his body: he sucks Jaeyi in harder after a couple kisses, and whines if he pinches his perky nipples unstopped.
Drawing air through his clenched teeth, Jaeyi trails a hand from the dip of Ideum’s sides up to his rib bones.
Ideum adheres himself to the glass before Jaeyi can even graze his chest.
“I just want you to fuck me ‘till I can’t stand,” pushes Ideum. “Don’t be gentle— it’s yours, all of it, please—”
Jaeyi can demand too. He can ask, the same way Ideum’s doing now. Yet, all he does is smack his hand against Ideum’s shoulder blades hard enough to clatter the pane.
Ideum flinches, and Jaeyi pauses.
“I’m not gentle out of sentiment, Hyung,” he says, his lips brushing Ideum’s collarbone with every syllable.
Little by little, he moves his lips up Ideum’s vibrating neck, pecking the pink burgeoning on the curve there. Leaving his name over old hickies that belong to a less-disoriented version of himself.
“I’ll be as rough as you want me to be.”
When Jaeyi cages Ideum’s lobe between his fangs, he enjoys the full-body shudder Ideum gifts him.
“But don’t ask me to treat you like shit next time you forget to wear your gauze.”
Jaeyi covers the white-knuckled fist straining on the window with his left hand. It freezes, so Jaeyi drags his other arm below, encloses Ideum’s dick with that same palm, and pinches his ass with it after. He pulls out until his tip is the only thing covered by Ideum’s gaping rim, and thrusts back in. All in the same hard, desperate motion.
Ideum shouts his name.
Jaeyi repeats the movement, then does it again.
“How does that feel?” he asks.
“Good,” Ideum hiccups. “So good.”
The pot near the sill begins to quake as much as Ideum’s legs. The snake plant in particular, with its tall stalk and its canopy reaching up the white window frame, wobbles as much as the long, milky stems spasming where they’re settled in front of Jaeyi’s thighs.
“But my legs… I can’t—”
“Didn’t you say you wanted me to fuck you until I felt better?”
Ideum plasters his damp bangs to the frigid translucent screen and whimpers his assent, spreading his legs farther while bowing as taut as the position allows for.
The silver rings that suspend Jaeyi’s green curtains jangle.
“Jaeyi, I’m—”
Whatever Jaeyi’s been suppressing since meeting Ideum, he lets it go. He stops teasing him.
Jaeyi whips his hand up and tangles it in Ideum’s hair, as hard as if he is going to peel it off the glass; as if it’s a sticker, or a bandage, or a useless band-aid over a traumatic scar. He yanks Ideum’s head back, straightens it, lifts it, and slams it against the windowpane.
And then Jaeyi fucks him. Hard, hard, harder. Ideum moans, screams with each shove. Jaeyi goes so fast —so relentless— that he avoids finding a proper rhythm in favor of nonstop driving.
He wonders how long Ideum’s been fantasizing about this. How long he’s been holding himself, just like Jaeyi has.
Jaeyi laces his fingers through Ideum’s, which are squashed against the cold pane, and lets his eyes drift into the neighboring building’s window, the room empty. If Jaeyi had been standing across the gap, coffee cup in hand, this would’ve been worth watching.
To think there were days Jaeyi couldn’t bring himself to throw the curtains aside, queasy at the thought of that usual shutter of plastic blinds. It’s bizarre now, being the view instead of the one catching it.
Ideum strangles Jaeyi with his searing hole as he collapses against the surface, Jaeyi gripping his hair through Ideum’s orgasm, his hips feeble in their jerky movements.
Startled, Jaeyi frees a high-pitched sound, like a howl. Only punchier.
One more thrust and he’s limp, eyes blown wide, jaw slack. Head tossed almost to the point of snapping his neck.
Ideum’s hole spits him out, and then Jaeyi sees four limbs sag when he loosens his grasp on them, that lithe body collapsing, jolting, trying to call oxygen back into empty lungs.
Jaeyi crouches beside him. Ideum’s legs are folded on his chest, arms wrapped around his knees, which knock together every breath.
Jaeyi’s cock is still hard, weeping, screaming.
He wants to say something —any vapid one-liner would do— but nothing passes through his hanging mouth. So Ideum talks in his stead.
“No… don’t stop. You haven’t come yet.”
Blood drums in Jaeyi’s eardrums. He almost misses Ideum’s pleas. He only notices because Ideum peeks at him to ensure he’s being heard.
“Y-You can keep fucking me; I want you to come in me, Jaeyi. Jaeyi, Jaeyi—”
Fuck. His dick hurts.
“Okay,” he utters at last.
And then Jaeyi uncurls him, pulling Ideum down by the ankles, who yelps and covers his chest with both hands, the action sending his chestnut tufts bouncing against the planks.
Jaeyi’s breath roars in his own ears, muddling his already blurry vision, so hazy those palsied fingers swirl in front of his nose.
His stomach churns. The urge to snatch those offending digits and uproot them follows as well. Even so, he can’t override the trust Ideum’s placed in him. They have clear limits that Jaeyi doesn’t need to cross on a whim.
So, holding his breath, he hovers above Ideum, his right hand fastened over the palms doubling as makeshift bandages, and holds firm.
Neither of them moves for a good while. There are leaves strewn beneath Ideum; they crunch to the twittering of his elongated spine. And still, neither one budges.
“I’ll cover it for you,” Jaeyi says. “Just hold on to me.”
When slim fingers twine to his strong wrist, Jaeyi unfurls Ideum’s legs and slips back inside. Red blooms underneath his right palm when his balls smear with Ideum’s sticky sap.
Blunt teeth sink into that anxious lip, and Jaeyi fixes his leer to it; the sight alone rips an unwanted shiver from him. He tears his left hand from where it’s ensnared around his base and runs it up Ideum’s side, nails first, without taking his eyes off that sheeny face.
Ideum’s irises also cross when Jaeyi digs them in. Afterward, Jaeyi’s thirsty pupils rake over the raised lines.
“Are you hurt?” The concern in his question is real, and after voicing it, he feels claws trenching deep into his bone.
His palm throbs nonstop, as does his groin. Jaeyi needs to close his eyes, but since he already knows where he needs to tread for Ideum to settle, he moves his touch from the jut of those ribs to the stiff nipples, pinching one with two fingertips and feeling the heart caged under his fist hammer faster.
“I’m okay,” Ideum wheezes. “I want you— on me, on top of me, inside me, just like this.”
“Fuck— what’s gotten into you?” Jaeyi grunts back. “Your grip is driving me insane today.”
His tone crumbles to gravel. He loses control, quickens the pace, cock ramming in and out.
“Spread your legs for me,” he commands; not that he needs to. Ideum can’t open them any wider on his own, so Jaeyi parts them for him.
Jaeyi commands it under the guise that he can, under the guise that Ideum’s shameless, unrepentant obscene talk gives him permission to phrase it that way. To order, instead of ask.
A thorn pokes out from between his fingers, splayed flat against Ideum’s glistening chest.
“Open up for me so I can fuck you properly.”
Ideum arches his spine and lowers his hands from where they trap Jaeyi’s wrist to encircle his legs.
Room yields for Jaeyi when he rocks his hips upward, thick lube spurting around his shaft, and then starts to fuck him deeper, rougher. When his strained eyelids creak, he notices that Ideum’s head is raised, gawking, eyes rapt where Jaeyi slams back and forth into his spread ass.
“Fuck,” Ideum whines. “Come in me, please. I want you to come in me.”
Jaeyi huffs as he drives his hips faster. With a flat palm on Ideum, it’s difficult to gain momentum. So his other hand makes it work instead, hooking Ideum’s leg from behind the thigh, pushing it up until the knee is an inch from thumping against the floorboards.
He couldn’t get closer to Ideum now if he tried, apart from the arm still wedged between them, which prevents their chests from kissing.
Despite that, Ideum smiles.
“You’re the only one I want inside me.”
That single sentence appeals to the side they refuse to talk about. The part of Jaeyi that darkens when Ideum’s phone pings with some other name, that part of him that struggles to organize his life, his house, to keep Ideum in it, to keep him in bed, to leave his muted residence, filled with nothing but plants; to be naked in his bathroom in the morning, so that Ideum finds him there upon waking. To fuck him long, slow and quiet while the sun’s rays greet them through the window, not saying a word, making out without haste, lying beneath him, simply melting into him, placid. Satisfied with the physical certainty that he has him, that he is inside him, and that no one else has ever been here.
Jaeyi wrenches Ideum by the hair again, his left hand a fist, and leans down to kiss him, desperate. Ideum doesn’t stop him and, in fact, is the one who invites him to deepen it, with muffled moans and teeth chattering; undulating hips meeting Jaeyi’s frantic pounding with equal enthusiasm. He’s so hard his own dick numbs.
Ideum locks his legs and scrambles for his shoulders when Jaeyi comes in short, strong, and shuddering thrusts, fingers sprouting from his hand. Burrowing into Ideum’s thigh.
He stays there for another minute, too breathless and dazed to leave. So Ideum seizes his parted lips, sealing his teeth around Jaeyi’s tongue and sucking on it like a lollipop.
Jaeyi still wants to laugh, so this time he heaves away, woozy, to marvel at Ideum.
The window must have cracked open or unlatched at some point, because a draft seeps into his space, the emerald leaves of his nearest plants rustling in the silence.
“You’re— you’re amazing,” Ideum spills after a while, as if his body hadn’t already been saying it this whole time without needing to voice it. “Thanks. For having me over.”
“Thanks for coming,” Jaeyi answers.
His knuckles twitch where they surround the scar.
“Would you do one more thing for me, though?”
“Anything,” Ideum blurts out. Jaeyi feels Ideum’s chest jump under his palm.
“Anything you want.”
His cheeks stretch to show his teeth.
“I want you to come for me again,” Jaeyi says. “With my cum still in you— my cock still in you. Can you do that?”
It’s an order dressed as a request, but also a sincere one. He’s put Ideum through a lot. It doesn’t matter that Ideum’s asked for it to be that way.
Yet, Ideum nods fast and replies, “Yes, God, yes.”
Jaeyi’s palm is there, an inch from rising.
He could lift it. He snuck a peep earlier, fanning his fingers to evade the prickly thorns there. But again, Ideum’s eyes bulge, and Jaeyi stops himself.
Once his cock eases out, the tip glistening with his cum, he inhales, pushing through his oversensitivity as he watches the sticky white strand connecting them stretch, then snap until it disappears inside again.
Gritting his teeth, Jaeyi finally peels his right hand away and wraps both arms around a waist thinner than his is. He presses his heated chest against Ideum’s naked one and exhales when spiky nails rake down the jacket caging his broad shoulders; in his ear thrums a shrill thread of ‘It feels so good, fuck, I feel so good, Jaeyi, Jaeyi,’ repeated in that rapid-fire nonsensical rambling he’s already grown used to.
Jaeyi’s lips bloom too. And then Ideum’s folding up and in, wrists crossed loose around his neck.
Praying for him. Preying on him. Luring him closer.