It’s half past three in the morning and Dejun shouldn’t be kneeling at the side of Kun’s bed, but he is, and he can’t stop looking at him.
He didn’t mean to, really, not at all. He was going to stay in his own bedroom every night, he promised himself. But Kun’s door was left ajar, a narrow line of orange spilling over the hallway floor, and Dejun just couldn’t help himself and carefully pushed the door open.
Kun was sitting up in his bed, slumped against the wall, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. His bedside lamp was still on and his laptop still open in his lap, screen gone black, and he’s clearly asleep. And Dejun is just being a good roommate right now, that’s all. He carefully set Kun’s laptop aside, and removed the headphones from his neck so the chord wouldn’t choke him. And right now he’s just — just ten more seconds. Just ten more seconds, and then he’ll go back to his own room.
But goodness, Kun just looks so tasty.
His jaw is slack now, mouth opened in a small o-shape, but the sharp angles are still distinct in the orange glow. Dejun would love to bite around his mandible, just to feel what it would be like under his teeth, how much his muscles would give. He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t bite hard, really, he wouldn’t even break Kun’s skin, he doesn’t want to hurt him. He really wouldn’t! But oh, how he can’t help but long for just a small taste. Only a tiny sample, the smallest bite and then he’ll be satisfied.
Dejun lets his gaze wander up, over Kun’s jutting bottom lip, his cute, rounded nose. His eyes automatically find their way to Kun’s eyebrows, goodness, those eyebrows. Dejun almost reaches out to smooth his finger over the thick hairs. He wonders if the skin curving around his brow bone will be as soft and smooth under his tongue as it looks like it would be. Maybe just a tiny lick, Kun would never know.
He swallows back the saliva that’s collecting in his mouth. Ten seconds have long passed, but he forgot to count, so he’ll have to do it again. And then he’ll really go back to his own bedroom.
Then, suddenly, with a jolt and a sharp inhale, Kun opens his eyes, so abruptly Dejun nearly falls back. But he was not doing anything wrong, he was just helping Kun, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. So he stays in his place, not looking away.
Kun’s wide eyes focus on him. He blinks a few times, and then they soften. “Dejun? What are you doing here? Did I fall asleep?”
Dejun feels somehow more guilty now, with Kun’s gentle, unknowing face on him. “I saw light from your room and I wanted to see if you were still awake, but you weren’t, but your laptop was still… Yeah,” he rambles, trying to explain himself, even though as far as Kun knows, there’s nothing he needs to explain.
“Oh, thanks.” Kun smiles at him, and he stretches his limbs. “Oh, I’m so stiff now…”
“Yeah, of course, no problem,” Dejun is still babbling. He tries to inconspicuously wipe the corners of his mouth, just in case, even though he knows Kun doesn’t know. Even if Kun noticed it, he probably wouldn’t think anything of it.
“Is there anything else?” Kun asks, and Dejun remembers he’s still kneeling on the floor next to Kun’s bed.
“No, no, that’s all,” he mumbles, and he gets up. He means to walk out, but Kun shrugs off his plaid shirt and Dejun is momentarily distracted by the soft, pale skin of Kun’s upper arms, peeking out from his T-shirt. He knows Kun is stronger than he he looks, he knows he works out, but all of him just looks so soft, so squishy, so chewy.
Kun pulls him from his fantasies with a soft giggle. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He wraps his arms around himself, flesh denting under his own fingers, unintentionally making Dejun’s mouth water even more. “You just look so soft,” Dejun mumbles. “Like a steamed bun…”
“Ha ha.” Kun says. “Is this a compliment or an insult?” His fingers dig into his bicep, pull at it and Dejun swallows thickly. “I know I’m not in great shape…”
“No!” Dejun says quickly. “You’re in the best shape!” No one has ever looked quite as appetizing to him as Kun has. No one else comes even close. Dejun has never had any problem controlling himself, ignoring his longing, but Kun makes it hard.
Kun huffs, a bitter smile making his cheeks bulge around the corners of his mouth. It hurts to see him like this and Dejun is grasping for words, grasping for ways to make Kun feel better, and he can’t help himself. “I want to eat you.”
Well, shit. He’s said it now, out loud. Before he could even think of keeping his mouth shut, he spilled his deepest desires.
But Kun just laughs, short and surprised, but an actual laugh now. Of course, of course he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t think anything of it. No sane human would think of the things Dejun thinks of, would assume that is what Dejun meant.
“What?” Kun squints at him, still smiling. “You know I’m not actually a steamed bun, right?”
“I know, but you just look so tasty…” Again, Dejun should’ve kept his mouth shut. But once again, he also knows this too won’t be taken literally. “I would really love to taste you.”
Dejun doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s like, now that he’s already spilled his secret, now that he knows Kun won’t understand what he really means, he just can’t stop running his mouth.
A steady blush blooms under the skin of Kun’s cheeks, his capillaries widening to allow more blood, and Dejun can practically smell it. Kun looks away, but doesn’t hide. “Dejun…”
“I know it’s kind of weird.” It’s so much weirder than Kun is thinking. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He wrings his hands, his own blood rushing now, his heart beating wildly. He should probably really leave right now, but Kun looks up, looks straight at him, and Dejun is left frozen.
“It’s not weird,” Kun says softly. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth and Dejun forgets to breathe. “Don’t—don’t think it’s weird.” He’s still sitting on the bed, the flush colouring his cheekbones clearly visible in the low light, his eyebrows looking delicious, the tip of his nose glinting invitingly. Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to give in for once.
Dejun swallows, and he can see Kun’s eyes quickly darting down. Kun is sitting right in the brightest beam of the lamp, the golden light scattering around him, and Dejun feels like the dark corners of the room are closing in on him. Like the world ends where the light of Kun’s bedside lamp fades, like nothing exists outside of Kun and him. No one would ever know…
“Come closer,” Kun urges, and Dejun shuffles closer, sinks back down to his knees. It feels right, being on the floor in front of Kun, begging for just the smallest bit of him, but Kun laughs. His voice is tight when he continues, breathless, and Dejun feels the same way. “Come—come sit on the bed.”
He felt right, on the floor, but if Kun is going to asks him like this. If Kun invites him in like this… Dejun stands back up, not breaking eye contact, and slowly climbs on the bed, kneeling gingerly over Kun’s thighs.
Kun leans back, needs to tilt his head back a little to keep looking at him, but his hands reach out to touch Dejun’s own.
“Come on,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Come closer, have a taste.”