Chapter Text
Yoo Joonghyuk lounges on the couch, absently tapping his switch. Not all the games he plays need to be good. They don’t need to have exquisite graphics, riveting plot, and sane decisions.
No, they can be cheap and trashy as long as it takes Yoo Joonghyuk’s attention off of the heat pooling in his groin.
His eyes slide off of the flashing colors on the screen. They crawl up the curve of his mother’s body — up the fine arch of his bare feet, curling around his sculpted calves, kissing his toned stomach, worshiping his flat chest, before settling on Kim Dokja’s perfectly plain face.
He’s adorned black yoga pants and an oversized shirt that Yoo Joonghyuk had worn back when he was in high school a little over 10 years ago.
“You should join me,” Kim Dokja sighs, reaching towards the sky. His shirt lifts, revealing his plush ass. The pants are so tight It looks as if it were painted on.
“You’ll hurt your back spending so many hours in front of the computer.”
“I do stretches every hour,” Yoo Joonghyuk assures. The ‘GAME OVER’ screen flashes at him, but Yoo Joonghyuk can’t even hear the credit music because Kim Dokja learns down, presenting himself in the downward dog position.
“You need more sunlight too. Just come out with me and Yoo Sangah. It’s very grounding to do yoga at the park. Maybe you’ll break less drywall.”
“That was one time,” Yoo Joonghyuk hisses, ears a blazing red.
He had been an edgy pre-teen and an even edgier teenager. Emotions, jagged glass, always melted into anger. He discovered why his mom raised him alone, discovered who his father was, and discovered a popular online multiplayer game based on cooperation.
Yoo Joonghyuk was never a team player.
Several broken computer mice later, alongside a fist-sized hole in the drywall of the living room, Yoo Joonghyuk was the top ranking e-sports for the game that pulled him through the toughest part of his adolescent life.
“One time too many,” Kim Dokja replies. Abdomen clenched and calves shaking, his voice is thin.
Yoo Joonghyuk memorizes the quiver of Kim Dokja’s ass as Kim Dokja’s legs tremble. He wants to slap it, he wants to tear off those leggings, he wants toy with the rim of his mother’s asshole and slip in a well-lubricated finger and make Kim Dokja drip between the thighs and —
Kim Dokja rotates his head. He looks at his son.
Yoo Joonghyuk snatches a pillow and slams it over his crotch, concealing his boner. He keeps his expression impassive, but he can’t hide the red burst of panic that shoots across his face like a rash.
But his mom doesn't comment on the flushed state of his skin. Rather, he asks: “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
If Yoo Joonghyuk was an expressive person, his jaw would have dropped. Only his mother could bring up the most irrelevant topics out of the blue.
“Because I don’t want one.”
“Why not?” Kim Dokja asks. He unfurls his body and stands up straight.
A light sheen of sweat speckles his forehead. A fat droplet rolls down his neck, disappearing down his collarbone and into the valley that was formerly his breasts. “I want grandchildren.”
“Are grandchildren all you think about?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks.
“I don’t talk about them that often,” Kim Dokja protests.
He plops onto the couch next to Yoo Joonghyuk and places a hand on Yoo Joonghyuk’s bicep. His nails, though not painted, have undergone a manicure after an outing with his best friend, Han Sooyoung. “I just worry for you. You’re twenty eight and I’ve never seen you go on a date, much less show interest in anyone.”
“Because I’m not interested in anyone.”
“Don’t you get lonely?” Kim Dokja asks, chest heaving from earlier exertion. Yoo Joonghyuk can smell the stench of exercise, but rather than being repulsed, Yoo Joonghyuk wants to bury his nose in his mother’s sweaty armpits.
“I have everything I need,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies.
He has his mother.
Kim Dokja bulldozes forward. “What about Lee Seolhwa from the convention you brought me to? She seemed pretty interested.”
“Well I’m not interested in her, ” Yoo Joonghyuk emphasizes.
“Then what kind of people are you interested in?”
Yoo Joonghyuk exhales. He stares directly into Kim Dokja’s eyes. Gray halos the black iris. “Someone like you.”
Kim Dokja tosses his head back and laughs. “You can do better than someone like me, Joonghyuk-ah,” he stands up and gently pats his son’s cheek. “Han Sooyoung and I are going to get brunch. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Yoo Joonghyuk leans into the touch. He worships the softness of his mother’s hand. “Stay safe and call me when you get there.”
Kim Dokja smiles and presses a swift kiss to Yoo Joonghyuk’s forehead. “Of course. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.”
Yoo Joonghyuk watches Kim Dokja flutter back to his room to change.
His erection had not receded a single bit. If anything, it throbs more intensely, fueled by the maternal touches.
Yoo Joonghyuk returns to his video game, intent on cooling down. His mother pops out from his room wearing his usual set of clothes, but Yoo Joonghyuk finds it grossly attractive, just like everything else about his mom.
“I’ll be going now,” Kim Dokja calls as he exits the front door.
Yoo Joonghyuk nods despite being fully aware that his mother can’t see it.
Once the door clicks with a definitive click and jiggles from being locked with a key, oo Joonghyuk tugs down his pants, spits on his palm, and furiously masturbates.