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It was late, and Hongjoong was angry. They had spent the entire afternoon avoiding each other as much as they feasibly could. Like most incidents in their relationship, Hongjoong would ignore the problem, trying to save the trouble of a useless argument. They are both aware of the issue at hand, even if it remains unspoken. In time, Hongjoong would get over it. That’s what he does best. Just pretend, as though a hidden monster weren’t in the room with them. That’s how he survives.
Hongjoong hadn’t always been this way. In the past, he tried to open up about any of his problems or insecurities. The action had most often ended in some form of screaming match. One where Hongjoong would end up teary-eyed, or his favourite, leave it guilty of something he swears he hadn’t done. No, it was always a pointless discussion. He’s just tired, sad, and wants nothing more than to sleep through the rest of the night without bursting.
The atmosphere was thick when he finally opened the door to the room. Well, for Hongjoong, since Seonghwa likely thinks him asleep by now. But no, he is very much awake. Tossing and turning for what seems like an eternity before his arrival. Hongjoong isn’t dumb. He knows sleeping for him tonight would be an impossibility. It’s a game he likes to play with himself. Anytime he is brimming with anxiety, anytime Seonghwa stayed out just a little too late. Yeah, sleep was impossible. It was unpleasant, being restless, but sharing a room with Seonghwa proved much worse.
The bed dipped, the familiar sickly honey aroma clogging his senses. The sweetness in Seonghwas scent hadn’t always turned his stomach. At one point, the same scent brought him so much comfort. It felt like home, cozy and warm. Currently, that feels a lifetime ago. Now he only picks up on how artificial it seems.
When regains his senses, he’s unsure how much time has passed in thought. Songhwa seems to have changed and settled. Hongjoong is facing away from him, to keep up his illusion of slumber. He’d wait for Seonghwa to rest, then retreat to the sofa. He can get the work he slacked on all afternoon done. Where, instead, he had spent his time staring at his laptop screen. A fidgety mess, unable to succeed even in the most menial of tasks.
After laying a while longer, he had assumed the other to be sleeping. He would leave soon, but to be sure, he should wait a few minutes longer. Avoid any conversation was top priority to Hongjoong’s fragile mind. Moments after the thought, Seonghwa’s hand found Hongjoong. It began caressing his shoulder, down to his waist and up. It was gentle, maybe a little too gentle for the night they spent together. Seonghwa continued, now squeezing his hip and rubbing circles into it, leaving Hongjoong with more confused questions. By every account, the touch was innocent. Yet, something about the action unsettled Hongjoong. He knows it’s not simple kindness. He’s not so naïve.
The same warm fingers soon pushed up his oversized tee, the cold air now biting at Hongjoong’s stomach and chest. His brows knit in confusion and heart thudding, he waited for the next move. What was his goal here? The touch against his skin was slow. It warmed and tickled him, sending an ocean of goosebumps up Hongjoong’s whole body. It was an uncomfortable feeling, something akin to static.
Seonghwa shuffled in closer, brushing against Hongjoong’s back. His heated breath spread against the back of his neck like pinpricks. Hongjoong only picked it up because of their proximity, the familiar sweetness with a peculiar distant trace of leather hidden beneath. He only had a moment to notice it before he felt the touch. A hardness pressed into his upper thigh and ass. Then Seonghwa’s hand traveled down. Past his stomach, his hips, until it reached his shorts. It slipped underneath and began kneading his ass. His eyes widened as he suppressed a shocked gasp. This had never happened before, not a part of their usual dance.
Too caught up in his cluttered thoughts, he only realized as it was already happening. A cold, slick finger massaged against his rim. A generous coating before one finger sunk in deep. He froze in place as his heart shot down to his stomach.
With no real time to catch up, more fingers accompanied the last, scissoring to stretch out Hongjoong’s tight ass. Their rather turbulent month had made sure any intimacy between them was low. Usually, Hongjoong welcomed this feeling, these long fingers fucking in and out of him. Wanted it bad. Listening to the lewd squelching of the gliding lube. That painful stretch he longed for. It was something he had grown to take great pleasure in, the impatience of it all. Especially after so long. His body reacted and knew it well. But well, today was different. This was wrong. The touch made him feel empty and cold. Not that his body could tell the difference.
Seonghwa had grown eager, tired of stretching out his boyfriend, and so he lay empty and untouched. Now left breathless, his heart thudded trying to escape from his chest. Without a moment to breathe, Seonghwa’s hardness lined up with Hongjoong. Breached in, stretching Hongjoong out further, he let out a small stuttered gasp. The first substantial noise of the night slipped from his lips. If seonghwa heard, he didn’t acknowledge. Before long, Seonghwa’s hips were flush with Hongjoong, pressing firmly into his ass.
This was a familiar feeling for him, the way Seonghwa perfectly stretched his insides. He melded into Seonghwa’s shape, made for him. Seonghwa let out a pleased sigh, and on most days, Hongjoong could beg and whine to hear more. But not today, it was cold. Alien. Even if his treacherous body heated at his lover’s touch and filled out, he knew better. As conflicted as he might be, he knew better.
Even with the lube and prep seonghwa had done, the drag was notable. At first, he began moving his hips in slow motions, easing into it. Hitting Hongjoong in just that right spot, the one that can make him squirm. He always did, though, his length bent perfectly to fill Hongjoong how he needed. His cock twitched hard by now but muffled any sounds into the pillow he gripped onto.
How much time had passed, Hongjoong wasn’t aware. Holding back any of the sound getting punched out of his lungs and his rapid thoughts kept him rooted in place. Any restraint in his body had been now eased and so Seonghwa was fucking into him with more vigor. Large hands bruising onto his hips to hold him in place. Hongjoong squeezed his thighs together to ease his own discomfort, to no avail. The relentless pounding had taken its toll, his cock leaking and bobbing pathetically. It was all enough to make his body feel needy, but with no relief. His mind, however, was still stunned. After some time, seonghwa pulled out. He heard the man quickly stroking his cock, before a satisfied moan spilled out from his lips.
Then he was gone, nothing more. Afterwards, Hongjoong felt a shuffle, it had become evident he was cleaning himself up, then the motion stilled. Facing away now, tucked into bed, he ceased touching him. Hongjoong left stunned, his shorts still down his mid-thigh. His treasonous body is still hot, despite his blood running cold. His useless cock hanging between his legs weeping for the attention he never wanted. Eventually, he heard Seonghwa’s breathing steady out and knew the man had fallen asleep. Only then he was brave enough to pull his shorts back up, allowing himself his modesty back.
Confused and sad with his thoughts racing, an ache began throbbing in his head. What did it mean? Did Seonghwa know he was awake, or had he intended for him to be asleep? No answer truly makes it better. Any conclusion he came to only left lightning striking his heart. Thoughts that, even during his less feeble moments, he never wanted. He contemplated leaving, sure. But he still finds himself frozen. An invisible weight suffocates him. So he stays, with the smell of sex in the air, the ache in his hips, and lube dripping from his ass. He wonders what’s wrong with him. Why is he so pathetic? He could have moved, he didn’t. His sobs started weak, muffled by his pillow. He held onto it as though it were his anchor. And there he stayed until sleep was merciful enough to take him from his misery.
Hongjoong let the events die that night, along with everything else. Never to leave the room, keeping them locked where only he could find them. He never brought it up or questioned it. He did what he did best, bottled it up, got over it, pushed it away, and moved on.