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“Ugh.” Jesse folded his arms and flipped his hair, watching the elevator ticker climb as they ascended up to the seventh floor. “I still can’t believe it. How does a hotel just overbook a national fencing competition?”
Sungchul stood with both hands on the handle of his suitcase. “It’s only one night.”
“I need my rest before tomorrow.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
The elevator dinged as they reached their floor. Suitcases in tow, the pair shuffled out into the hallway.
“You can’t know that for certain,” Jesse argued, because what if Sungchul snores, or sleeps with the TV on?
Sungchul rolled his eyes as they approached their room. “Whatever, Coste. Do you have the room keys?” Jesse fished into his pocket and handed one to him. He kept talking while he swiped it across the door handle. “You’re going to sleep worse if you’re stressed about it. We’re just going to be on opposite sides of the same room, it’s not going to be that much of a—“
The door clicked behind them as they stared at the room. One bed.
Jesse didn’t wait. He threw his duffel on the sheets, then set his fencing bag down more gently beside it. “You’ll sleep on the floor.”
More hesitantly, Sungchul stepped into the room and let the door fall shut. It sealed them in. “That’s not fair. We’ll share.”
Jesse opened his mouth to argue, but Sungchul halted him with a palm out. “It’s not fair for only one of us to take it. I’m sleeping in the bed, and you can choose whether you want to be stubborn or not.”
He laid his suitcase and gear on the other side of the bed.
Jesse huffed. “Fine.” Whatever. See if he cared.
“Good.” He reached for his toiletries bag, tucked away in the corner of the fabric. His bag is so organized. “I am going to get ready for sleep now.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
There was only one light in the room: the power button on the television, blinking blue on and off. The AC was humming through the air ducts. Distantly, doorsteps clicked as someone walked by their door.
Jesse twisted onto his side. The sheets tugged against the shape of his body. He yanked, and Sungchul yelped.
“Don’t you know how to share?” Jesse spat, tugging more insistently.
Sungchul used his body weight to press on the sheets and roll the opposite direction. They slipped off Jesse’s shoulders.
“Hey!”
“I don’t think I’m the one who has problems with sharing,” Sungchul said.
“I bet that’s what you tell all the guys you share a bed with.”
“No, actually, I find that they usually don’t say much besides my name.”
Jesse’s heart stuttered. He pulled on the blanket again, but it was half-hearted and slipped through his fingers easily. “I doubt that.”
“Can I show you?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“And why wouldn’t I?”
Jesse rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back. “No, you wouldn’t.”
The mattress shifted as Sungchul rolled over. He faced Jesse, cheek resting on his palm, which was propped on his elbow. His dark hair felt over his forehead, still slightly damp from his nighttime shower.
“You couldn’t handle me,” Sungchul said.
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Maybe it is.”
Finally, Jesse looked to his right. With his full focus on Sungchul, he admired the cocked eyebrow and sly grin. It was an expression he often wore on the piste. But he hadn’t topped Jesse yet.
“Coste,” Sungchul said, playing with the edges of the blanket where it now laid slack between them. “Would you like me to show you?”
His heart raced. Thank goodness for the dark, because he was certain his face was bright red. He could barely look at Sungchul as he answered, “Okay.”
Sungchul climbed off the side of the bed. “Take off your pants, Coste.”
On his hands and knees, with his face buried in the pillow, Jesse could admit that Sungchul’s hands were something else.
They danced around the curve of his ass with a cool precision, little scrapes of nail interspersed with drags of his thumb that would almost seem loving, if Jesse hadn’t known better.
“Let’s get on with it,” Jesse growled.
“It’s dark. I can’t see much.”
“But surely you can find my dick.”
“I’m not looking for your dick.”
“What could you possibly be—“
Jesse’s words broke off as Sungchul’s fingers probed lightly at the muscle around his hole.
“You talk a big game, Coste.” Sungchul drew his nail clockwise around the ring. He made a small noise of disapproval. “Hm. I didn’t think you’d be waxed.”
Jesse clenched his fists. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I prefer unwaxed.”
“You talk a big game, Park,” Jesse shot back.
Sungchul didn’t dignify his response with words. With Jesse having his face buried in the hotel pillow, the only warning he got was the hot breath of Sungchul’s mouth before his tongue licked vertically across his hole.
“Ah!” He gasped, startled.
Two hands gripped around the meatier parts of his thighs, and then the tongue was back. A single lick here, a flick there. It was all teasing. Sungchul had no intention of fucking him, and Jesse was not going to stoop to begging.
“Oh fuck, fuck, Sungchul, please,” Jesse begged, sometime around when his legs had begun to shake. “Please. Please. Fuck!”
A hand stroked the base of his spine, coaxing out helpless gasps and pleas.
Sungchul had barely even worked past his rim, but he was wielding his tongue masterfully. Hot drips of saliva ran down Jesse’s thighs, but he could barely bring himself to notice.
“S…” Jesse had begun saying his name, but had just enough of a mind to his when the firm part of his tongue slipped beneath the rim. “ssss…ah—!”
It was sloppy, it was wet, his ass was soaking, and it was the best he’d ever felt. He kept going until Jesse’s knees were shaking and he was gripping the bedsheets with white knuckles.
Sungchul wrapped his arm around Jesse and began— finally— jerking him off.
And from there, it wasn’t long.
Jesse spilled across the bed sheets. White hot and blinding. He felt his cheeks spasm against Sungchul’s mouth, and his arms quaked like he’d just done a hundred push ups.
He collapsed onto the mattress, into a puddle of his own semen.
Behind him, he heard a slurp, and a rustling, like Sungchul was wiping the sheets.
“Not bad, huh?” Sungchul said.
Fuck. Jesse could hear the grin in his voice. But his throat was failing him, and all he could do was nod against the mattress.
“What is with you?” Seiji prodded.
Jesse blushed and redirected his attention back to his hotel omelet. Sungchul was over at the waffle making station, waiting for the timer to go off.
It had all seemed so unreal in the darkness, but in the light of the new day, it was in a vivid 4K.
Jesse pushed his bangs back and leaned in, lowering his voice. “You were put in a room with Marcel last night, right?”
“Yes,” Seiji answered, a small frown pulling at his mouth. “Remember? They were overbooked.”
He gulped. “Did anything… happen?”
The handle of Seiji’s knife wobbled as he rested it against the edge of his paper plate. “If you must know, Marcel had forgotten his hairbrush and asked to borrow mine.”
Of course. It was Marcel and Seiji, of course their hotel room would have been perfectly civil and lawful.
“Did something happen in yours?” Seiji asked.
Involuntarily, Jesse’s eyes strayed back to the waffle maker—but Sungchul was already looking, and when he caught Jesse staring, he licked his lips.
He sat bolt upright in his chair and pretended like he wasn’t remembering the springy texture of Sungchul’s tongue.
“Nope.” Jesse rubbed at his cheeks. They were hot.
Seiji leaned forward curiously. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Yes, everything went fine.”
Clearly deciding that he was done trying to poke at Jesse’s secret, Seiji picked up his knife and resumed eating.
Jesse tried to keep his attention on his own breakfast, cutting it into tiny pieces and chewing slowly. But his eyes kept wandering. Naturally, they fell on Sungchul.
And when he caught Jesse looking again, Sungchul winked.