A Temporary Reprieve

The walls are so thin.

Jongwoo knows they shouldn’t be doing this. The thought of anyone knowing what they’re doing – the pervert across the hall knowing it, Seo Moonjo knowing it – makes him want to die, but right now he’s drunk enough and unhappy enough that that doesn’t matter.

Seokyoon’s cute, as guys go. And Jongwoo is so pent up with stress and fear that he’ll take what release he can get. So he lets Seokyoon kiss him extremely quietly and he strangles the noise his throat makes when Seokyoon’s hand cups his dick through his pants.

He can’t ask things like are you sure about this or what the fuck do you think you’re doing. He can’t let them be overheard.

Seokyoon looks up at Jongwoo with his big eyes, and Jongwoo’s dick twitches against the pressure of his hand. Seokyoon must feel it. His eyes don’t change but he undoes the fly of Jongwoo’s pants and he takes Jongwoo’s dick in his hand, and Jongwoo has to bite his lip to keep from letting out any sound. Seokyoon is determined to test him further, though, because he gets on his knees – there’s hardly any room but he gets on his knees – and he takes Jongwoo’s dick in his mouth.

Just the sound of Jongwoo’s breath catching is so loud to him that he doesn’t know how they’re going to manage the rest undetected. The noises Seokyoon makes with his mouth – the wet sound of his tongue and the smack of his lips as they move over and against Jongwoo’s dick – Jongwoo wants to tell him to stop – it’s too loud, someone will hear – but at the same time every little noise is electric, only magnifies what he feels. And Jongwoo can’t tell Seokyoon to stop because he doesn’t want him to. It feels too good, both the getting head and the danger of it; the sound of Seokyoon’s mouth and the stillness in the building around them.

And if they did hear footsteps, or voices, what would they do? Would Seokyoon stop? Would he stop with Jongwoo’s dick in his mouth, and wait? Or would he keep on going, even with someone right in the hallway?

Jongwoo is going to come. He can’t say anything to warn Seokyoon, but he puts a hand in his hair, and Seokyoon looks up at him, and he lets Jongwoo guide his head back – even the sound of his mouth leaving Jongwoo’s dick is filthy – and he stays there in place as Jongwoo finishes himself off. He lets Jongwoo come on his face. And Jongwoo bites his own lip so hard that he bleeds; the taste of blood is a surprise but the pain, in that moment, is indistinguishable from his pleasure.

He doesn’t, he thinks, make a sound, but his breath is heavy, and it’s hard to catch it with Seokyoon kneeling there. Seokyoon wipes the come from his face and into his mouth, and Jongwoo thinks –

Oh, if they weren’t here in this residence, Jongwoo would do much more to him than just this. He’d mess him up a whole lot more, and more noisily besides.

Seokyoon gets to his feet, a little unsteadily. He’s probably sore from kneeling, and he seems uncertain, when he meets Jongwoo’s eyes. Like maybe he thinks Jongwoo will kick him out now that he’s gotten him off.

Jongwoo will not. Jongwoo pushes him back onto the bed – the stupid, too small bed – and the sound Seokyoon’s body makes hitting the mattress isn’t any louder than Jongwoo’s would be alone. Seokyoon lets Jongwoo hold him there, lets him press his legs open with his knee. It’s obvious how hard he is, although he hasn’t so much as undone his trousers while he was sucking on Jongwoo’s dick. Jongwoo doesn’t know whether that level of restraint is admirable or idiotic.

Jongwoo kisses Seokyoon, thrusts his tongue in his mouth, and he rubs the heel of his palm against Seokyoon’s trousers. And maybe it’s just that he’s feeling slightly mean that he doesn’t undo Seokyoon’s fly; no, he just rubs him through the fabric and presses his tongue deeper in his mouth, presses Seokyoon down until Seokyoon comes with a shudder beneath him, and Jongwoo’s hand is damp from Seokyoon’s come soaking through the fabric.

Sekyoon looks dazed, glassy-eyed. He hasn’t made a sound.

Jongwoo sits on the bed beside him, and Seokyoon focuses enough to turn his head; he looks like he might speak, but Jongwoo shakes his head. He knows the relief he feels is only temporary, the warmth of Seokyoon’s body a ward against the anxiety that wants to settle back down on his shoulders, against the walls that want to close in around him.

It’s temporary, and if Seokyoon speaks, Jongwoo is going to have to kick him out.

He doesn’t want to do that just yet.