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If someone would asked Yeonjun to describe his uni buddy, Beomgyu, with one word, he would hesitate between “scattered” and “cute.”
The former had been assigned to him since their first meeting: Beomgyu had slid across the entire length of the audience bench on his way to his seat, only to suddenly stumble into Yeonjun, spilling coffee on his light jeans.
The latter had been assigned to him just a few minutes later when Yeonjun’s annoyance melted at the sight of Beomgyu’s round, puppy-like guilty eyes. His awkward, “Oh, Hyung, I’m very sorry! A-also, nice jeans… were, ha-ha… hah—” And the napkins trembling in his fingers almost managed to cool both the elder’s irritation and the small burn on his hip—the accidental starting point of their careless friendship.
Stuttering, Beomgyu insisted on buying a healing ointment and then, for a week, kept passing small notes through several classmates:
How’s your hip, Hot Hyung?
I hope the medication helps with the pain and inflammation ASAP.
I’m really, really sorry!
At the end of the note, Beomgyu drew small crying faces of himself. Yeonjun burst out laughing, suddenly forgetting all about the aching burn. What worried him more was why Beomgyu wouldn’t just talk to him in person. So, he soon sat by his side, replacing written notes with real conversation.
Fatuous Choi Beomgyu, with his head in the clouds, always gnawed on the tip of his pen. He twitched awkwardly whenever the teacher called his name—stuttering, yet still managing to answer confidently—before refocusing on his sheet, filling it with silly drawings.
At least, the ones he didn’t intentionally cover with his hand and then shamefully hide in his backpack were exactly like that. But mostly, Beomgyu drew caricatures of Yeonjun—slipping them into his notebook with mischief. The elder didn’t always notice them in time but kept every single one on his mood board, right in front of his eyes.
“Hot Choi Yeonjun keeps the top button of his shirt fastened so others won’t lose their minds, yeah?”—a sketch of Yeonjun’s profile, shining and surrounded by stars.
Or: “Kisses were created after Hot Yeonjun’s lips!”—a doodle of the elder winking, sending an air kiss.
Or: “Hot Choi Yeonjun is so fascinating that, even unprepared, he got a B+!”—an exaggerated portrait of him with the face of an evil genius. And many more complimentary (and artistic) sketches.
Some people told Yeonjun that no one was particularly close to Beomgyu—not because of his simple-mindedness or clumsiness, but because, to them, he was associated with something gayish, something not socially accepted. Yeonjun never understood that.
He just sincerely thought that peach lip gloss suited his face. That overgrown hair— which he blew away from his nose with full concentration, squinting his eyes— only made him look cuter. And his sloppy humor, like the time he put his hair into two pigtails and sweetly sang, “Oppa, ple-e-ease, let me copy your discrete math homework!” Made them both burst into laughter— and, of course, Yeonjun eventually gave in.
In the end, Yeonjun always gave in as soon as Beomgyu started acting capriciously. Even his constantly floundering legs, the muddle in his head instead of a proper uni schedule, his sleeping face with pouting full lips, and his high emotionality— especially when Yeonjun was around— all of it only reinforced one definition in Yeonjun’s mind: cute. And there was no sarcasm in that.
There was nothing in their friendship that would make him care about what others thought— nothing that would make him second-guess Beomgyu’s stealthy glances, slight blush, or flustered stammer: “Oh, sorry… I got lost for a bit.”
Beomgyu never explained what exactly he was thinking about. He would just lower his gaze and hide his timid eyes.
Yeonjun preferred to notice other things instead— their identical taste in indie music and baggy clothes, the similarities in their personalities, the quiet comfort that had formed between them over two years of study. He preferred to be thankful for Beomgyu’s care— the way he fussed over him when he was sick or helped him with university assignments.
He preferred to gently lift Beomgyu’s chin with his fingers when he looked upset or sad, to support him through everything— and then, inevitably, to pull him into a hug. Beomgyu was never the first to pull away from those hugs. Which Yeonjun also preferred not to notice.
Until one day, when he spotted the edge of a loose sheet sticking out of his notebook. Thinking it was just another sketch of himself, he casually pulled it free while Beomgyu was in the restroom. He hadn’t meant to snoop. But when he finally glanced at the page— when he really saw what was on it— he froze. Fingers tightening around the paper, he pulled it out completely.
of the waist, narrow hips, and thin legs up to the knee. A plaid skirt pulled up on the groin. A frankly drawn male boner. A droplet of pre-cum on the tip.
Yeonjun dumbly stared at the drawing for a few seconds, and then, with his hands shaking, he put it back to its previous place.
Deafening squeak in his ears began to put pressure on him, who hardly understood what had just happened. What was that? And how to connect this to his sloppy fatuous friend, who after he came back gave him a little-bitty cute smile… It was the first time when Yeonjun didn't smile back, trying to look into hints in others' faces. Maybe he hallucinated? Maybe… he understood that incorrectly, and instead of a man's dick, there should have been a woman's vigina, drawn in a weird way? Who knows how Beomgyu imagines it if he had never seen one with his own eyes…
To be honest, Yeonjun never has noticed him trying to flirt with some girl. “All good?” Beomgyu looked gin in the eye, dramatically frowning his eyebrows. “Why’s Oppa sad?” Yeonjun just grinned, feeling a warmth, thick like sugary syrup, spread through his chest. It kept him from unlocking the wardrobe of oddities, Beomgyu seemed so desperate to keep shut—like glue sticking the key in place.
Every time Yeonjun visited his place, Beomgyu followed him like a shadow, subtly checking that every cabinet stayed closed. Yeonjun wasn’t sure what exactly he was hiding, especially considering how absent-minded he usually was. But one thing was certain— Beomgyu never let him get too close to his phone. Never showed him what he was so carefully analyzing on the screen.
And when asked, he would only answer evasively: “N-nothing special! Really, you won’t be interested!”
Or when Yeonjun became more stubborn:”Oppa, I have no one but you, why are you jealous? You’re so possessive!” — he exclaimed, biting his bottom lip — a test shot to the head.
Yeonjun really didn’t know what to do with such a friend. A completely fatuous situation.
The image of a poking out dick from under a skirt wouldn't leave his head, no matter how hard Yeonjun tried to switch his focus to something else. Curiosity was eating him up from the inside, as was the amount of uncertainty that Beomgyu left behind.
Maybe it would be better for both of them if the younger one shared his secret and eased his heart. He would breathe a sigh of relief and stop feverishly watching Yeonjun scroll through the gallery on his phone longer than he was supposed to, snatching it away in one instant. Maybe, he should have asked him straightforwardly about his kinks?
Yeonjun, gathering the courage to confront his friend, found himself stuck staring at their open chat, his fingers hovering over the message input box. For the past fifteen minutes, he had been trying to phrase his question, but no matter how hard he tried, it remained vague and abstract, slipping through his grasp.
And then— Something happened that completely emptied his already overheated mind. Out of nowhere, Beomgyu sent him a message. A forwarded post from a community called “oppa’s erottasy”.
Just a single photo with a caption. It lingered on his screen for only a few painfully long seconds—And then it was gone. Deleted in a clear panic. But Yeonjun didn't need it to be right in front of his eyes to imagine everything that had just been imprinted on the insides of his eyelids:
thin legs, narrow hips and slim waist. Erotic caption: “Thinking about your strong, hot hands on me right now…” A pleated skirt, timidly lifted just a little, as if enticing, drawing one to look under the fabric. And there it was, exactly the same as in the drawing he saw before - hot dick, glistening with drops of precum.
The fact that Beomgyu's apartment was in the background was beyond doubt. As was the presence of the friend himself in a woman's skirt. Neither Beomgyu—who, judging by his radio silence, had decided to play dead—nor Yeonjun, who chose to follow his lead, sent another message that evening.
But the next day, Yeonjun had no trouble picking up on Beomgyu’s nervous energy. A forced, overly cheerful greeting during their first lecture. Then silence—just Beomgyu quietly studying his face, as if searching for any hint of change. But Yeonjun played dumb. As if he hadn’t made a throwaway account just to access that private community with the unforgettable name. As if he hadn’t spent the entire night scrolling through every single post in some feverish daze. An entire anonymous personal diary—laying bare the erotic fantasies of its owner.
This side of Beomgyu, the one that had always lurked in the shadows, turned out to be disturbingly… fascinating. It was strange—realizing that his sloppy, scatterbrained university friend, the one who skipped entire pages when copying assignments and tripped over the same spot every time, could look so filthy. So shameless.
He alternated between lewd drawings and pictures of himself, recreating his fantasies in reality. He sketched a naked man covered in ice cream- later then posting a picture of himself recreating it , shamelessly licking the melting dessert from his fingers. This fantasy was signed: "I burn myself on you every day; I need to cool down." He also drew caramel syrup dripping down his nipples, a body taut with orgasm, garters stretched over tense thighs. He illustrated whip marks on his buttocks, wrists bound behind his back-then recreated each image with astonishing accuracy.
Yeonjun never questioned why he kept looking at these photos over and over again, drawn to the way his friend's body looked under neon-purple light. How enticing the lace garters looked against his slender thighs, how inviting the peach gloss looked on his parted lips. He wanted to know how they tasted. He had wanted to know even before he saw these fantasies-out of curiosity, if nothing else.
Yeonjun could have asked himself a thousand questions about his own sanity, but by morning, he had only one dilemma: what to do with his painfully aching boner. An absolutely inappropriate joke popped into his head. Beomgyu would definitely have found a couple of ways to help him with this.
It stopped being funny when Yeonjun came, thinking about the peachy gloss at the base of his cock.
For a few days, he successfully played dumb, hiding his secret knowledge. He let Beomgyu copy his discrete math homework, shared vending machine coffee with him, his gaze lingering on the faint shimmer of lip gloss on the rim of the cup. He watched as Beomgyu sketched another caricature of his face, scrawling underneath: "Boiling water doesn't scare Choi Yeonjun—he's hotter!" And, as always, steam rose from his drawn head.
At that moment, Yeonjun was thinking only about the new drawing in the oppa's erottasy group and the fact that he and Beomgyu hadn't hung out at his apartment in a while. Maybe this was a good opportunity to talk openly?
To admit that he was genuinely curious-how exactly was the massive dildo from the latest post supposed to fit into his tight ass? "How about we hang out at your place on Friday? I'll bring some beer, and we can watch something." "Oppa missed me?" Beomgyu giggled without looking up from his drawing. "Alright, I'm down. We can also trash-talk that old bastard who's threatening to screw up my grade this semester."
The plan was bound to succeed. A beer would get them tipsy and loosen their tongues. Maybe then it would be easier to talk about the skeletons in their closets. To ask how long he had been keeping his little secret. To ask how he had managed to hide it for two whole years before slipping up— whether it was a trembling hand, an accidental swipe, or just a lagging screen. To ask how it had happened that skirts fit so perfectly on his narrow hips. Maybe even ask him to try one on? Strictly for scientific purposes, of course.
With the mindset of an honest, friendly conversation, Yeonjun stood at his apartment door, instinctively pulling the handle instead of knocking. And once again, Beomgyu's carelessness did not fail him-the door opened, letting the guest inside. It was surprising that he was met with darkness, save for a thin strip of neon purple light and the muffled music coming from Beomgyu's room. His absence at the entrance was unexpected. Today was definitely Friday-Yeonjun couldn't have mixed up the days.
But Beomgyu? He was a walking fatuous creature... Yeonjun didn't have time to develop that thought any further before his curiosity was interrupted by something much more unexpected. Because as soon as the door creaked and he stepped into the neon glow room, Beomgyu wasn't just filled with mystery. Right now, Beomgyu was filled with... something else.
A raised plaid skirt, revealing a view of his buttocks; widely spread legs, shaking in great spasm; reddened knees, rubbed against the surface of the bed; a drop of precum dripping down from the head and a whining pre-orgasmic whine... A vibrator being mercilessly pressed into his hole with a juicy squelching sound. The only nonsexual element was a tripod with a phone opposite the scene.
The view was so dirty and revealing that Yeonjun stood in the doorway, clutching the bottles of beer in his hands. He wanted to drain them all in one go, in a couple of big gulps. Beomgyu, too busy with his obviously approaching orgasm, didn't immediately react to the extraneous sounds, didn't immediately focus his blurred, wet gaze on the silhouette in the room, continuing to soak the bed linen under him with saliva, hot, ragged breath, beads of sweat, excessively wet from the lubricant.
Yeonjun was also soaking into this whole wet mess named Beomgyu, feeling sticky and sinful.
He stared so openly, not finding even a drop of tact in himself to simply turn away, or even blink. He didn't understand whether he was breathing or already losing consciousness, when a frightened, muffled voice reached his ears:
"Yeonjun-hyung!—... This!.." Beomgyu, barely aware of what was happening, froze, halting the casual thrusting of the vibrator inside himself. Well, relatively. The active buzzing was still loud enough for both of them to hear. That was probably why his voice came out so weak and hoarse:"God, shit—... today is... Friday, right? Fuck, jesus-"
"Yea-… yeah," Yeonjun exhaled in the same breathless tone, feeling his legs go weak. He gathered enough strength to move toward a chair, dragging it closer to the bed before sinking down. One bottle of beer was opened, sipped in a state of shock. Maybe that was what caused his next words: "Y-you... can continue..."
Beomgyu pulled his legs up, desperately tugging the hem of his short skirt over the lewd sight of the vibrating toy still buried inside him. His face disappeared into the sheets as he whined:"A-are you kidding me?.. God, h-hyung, please... turn away! Come on, d-don't look..”
Maybe it was the sip of beer. Maybe it was the adrenaline spiking through his blood. Either way, Yeonjun grinned recklessly: "Call me oppa, and maybe I'll think about it."
The way Beomgyu's body reacted didn't go unnoticed. A thin, broken moan spilled into the sheets as his whole body shuddered. The tortured, swollen ring of muscles around the vibrator clenched desperately.
"Don't you need to recreate your last drawing?" Yeonjun mused, eyes flicking over the boy's trembling frame. "For that, you need cum splashes on your skirt, right?"
"S-so... you did see... damn, oh God..." He was nearly sobbing, a burning mix of shame and arousal wrecking him. He didn't dare lift his face from the bed, but he could feel the elder's gaze sweeping over his bare skin."H-hyung, y-you... need to leave... please..."
"You'd better ask properly," Yeonjun chuckled, convinced that if he turned this into a joke, he could handle not only the thick tension hanging in the air—but also the one in his own pants.
A defense mechanism was hardly the right solution to their situation. Just like Beomgyu's sudden obedience wasn't, as he whined in despair:"P-please, oppa..." He sobbed loudly, muffling a new moan into the sheets.
The fingers that had been tugging his skirt lower brushed against the vibrator-clearly trying to pull it out, to put an end to this whole scene. But every movement inside only lashed his exposed nerves with an electric sting. "Agh…ha.."
“Please, oppa, what? Please, oppa, help me get the vibrator out of my ass?” It should have sounded like an offer of help. But the hoarseness from his growing arousal made Yeonjun’s voice overwhelming, impresious. In general, Beomgyu didn’t need much in such a borderline state. His breathing quickened with each word he uttered, and the fingers that were trying to pull out the vibrator slowly pressed it back in. “Please, oppa, close your eyes. I need to stain my cute skirt with cum?”
“Gods, just look at yourself-… even my presence doesn’t embarrass you-…”
“S-sorry-… oppa-… please forgive me…” Beomgyu gave in, choking on moans and suffocating shame. His hips frankly jerked higher, taking the vibrator deeper.
“You’re so shameless, Beomgyu-ya. When I suggested watching something, I didn't mean live porn with you in it,” Yeonjun no longer gave a fuck about what he was saying. Hypnotized by the sharp movements, the vulgar squeaks of lubricant, the ragged breathing of the naked guy. “And now what should oppa do with his fatuous little boy?”
A wet gaze hesitantly turned to Yeonjun, who humbly crossed his arms over his chest. It slid a little lower, to his spread legs, and having confirmed the words, again cowardly intertwined with the piercing dark eyes. The minds of both were slowly melting: “Oppa can u-use... me…” Beomgyu drew out with a breath, squeezing the sheet with his free hand in shame.”P-please… agh-ha…”
“Tell me more about how oppa can use you,” the air in the room was intoxicating, nothing else, despite the fact that a couple of sips would hardly have hit your head like that. Yeonjun's hand limply unzipped his jeans. For some reason, Beomgyu's half-conscious, pleasured gaze, watching his palm disappear into his underwear, excited him not less than the mercilessly pressed vibrator.
“A-argh, how I want your dick to block my breath, oppa. Please, let me suck you off…”
“God, Beomgyu-ya,” Yeonjun breathed out raggedly, jerking himself off at the same pace with the toy sliding into Beomgyu’s ass, glistening with lube.”Such a dirty mouth needs to get busy soon.”
Their breathing filled the room. Neon light gently wandered over the younger's silhouette, like someone's lustful hands exploring a pliant body. Yeonjun patted his thigh with his free palm.
“Hurry up, don't make me wait.” The vibrator was pressed to the limit, whining protractedly into the sheet - it seemed that someone clearly liked the commanding tone. He raised himself on with his trembling hands, obediently flowing to the foot of the bed, suffocating from each movement. The vibration inside urged him to hurry up and crawl towards the calling voice. Yeonjun's lips stretched wider and wider: “What a complete obedience, Beomgyu-ya..”
Yeonjun pulled the edge of the jeans and boxers lower, continuing to jerk off right in front of the guy's nose quite literally. He parted his lips with impatience, digging his fingers into the elder’s tense hips, and moaned discontentedly. “You want it that badly?”
Yeonjun made fun of Beomgyu, who was going crazy with excitement. And then he collected drops of his precum with his fingers and directed them into the pliantly provided mouth. Beomgyu greedily absorbed them, moaning and savoring. He wanted to feel the vibration of his hot throat and the trembling of his body on his own dick.
“Come on, do it well for oppa,” his hand ended up on the back of Beomgyu’s head, squeezing thick strands. Head was in the tightening grip of someone else's lips, with a lubricated peach shine. It was wet and hot inside from the abundance of saliva flowing down to his chin, each pressure on the back of his head was greeted by a satisfied whine. The loud smacking of his swollen lips and guttural moans made Yeonjun's toes curl involuntarily. Beomgyu immediately began to actively suck, as if his mind had been blown off along with the foundation - he was so greedy and insatiable that the elder began to fear that his cock would wear out from friction.
However, he only grew harder and filled with blood in the embrace of a narrow throat vibrating from guttural moans. Beomgyu looked so wonderful between his legs, completely submissive and deprived of reason. He swallowed the cock so gloriously completely, allowing the elder to squeeze his face into his pubic bone.
He got what he wanted: Yeonjun reflexively threw his hips up to meet him and blocked his breath, making Beomgyu tremble more clearly and roll his eyes, full of moisture and pleasure. A couple of such pushes were enough for his body to break into a major spasm, and a muffled whine came from his throat. It seemed it was time to implement the last post from the community.
“Did you really came, because I fucked you in the mouth? Are you really that sensitive, Beomgyu-ya?” he moaned weakly, going limp between Yeonjun's legs. But Yeonjun didn't let him cool off: he lifted Beomgyu from the floor by his shoulders, forcing him to stand on thr weakened legs.
The elder dropped in a voice hoarse with excitement: “Show oppa what's under your skirt, quickly.” Beomgyu bit his lip, lowering his head in shame. And grabbed the hem of his skirt with his fingers, lifting it higher. His entire face and body were covered in blush spots, his knees were tormented and would definitely hurt the next day, and his skin was shining with beads of sweat.
Viscous sperm was dripping from the lining of the skirt, and his cock, not yet completely down, was already trembling excitedly again under someone else's scrutinizing gaze. ( Illustration )
"You need to capture this urgently, don't you?" Yeonjun stood up, noticing how he was crushing the guy with his heavy gaze. A little more and he would again kneel without complaint. "I'll help you," he led him to the bed, until the embarrassed guy backed out.
As soon as his battered knee fell onto the bed and his chest pressed against the damp, cool sheets, a satisfied chuckle was heard from behind: “What an erotic view. Beomgyu-ya, look at yourself,” Yeonjun drawled, knowing that it was his tone of voice that caused the other's trembling member to react.
He was busily standing by the tripod, adjusting the picture on his phone.” You smeared such a lovely skirt in sperm, your legs, streaked with lube, can barely stand, they keep sliding apart. But that's not enough for you, is it? Is that why your lustful little hand reaches for the toy, pounding your insatiable ass with vibration?” Beomgyu, doomedly whining an apology, arched his back, looking pleadingly over his shoulder. Right before Yeonjun's eyes, the vibrator slid smoothly into the wet anus, accompanied by the sounds of squelching lube and the boy's ragged breathing.
Did this little devil really intended to fuck himself in front of the elder?
The latter could hardly remain just an observer with his erect dick. “Will oppa p-punish me... for my willfulness?” Beomgyu drawled sweetly, thrusting the vibrator especially deep.
“Oh, you can be sure of that,” the elder answered hoarsely, spitting on the whistling brakes. He bared his top on the way to the bed, watching as a viscous drop of lube slowly flowed down the younger's hardened cock.” I will punish you properly.”
He jerked his skirt up, completely exposing his flushed buttocks and lower back, removed the younger's trembling hand and ordered him to stand still, without moving
“Be an obedient girl while I explore all the places under your pretty skirt,” without even touching him, Yeonjun made him shudder so loudly, as if his feet had been slapped with a leather whip. Beomgyu arched even more, spreading his legs wider, almost melting on the sheet.
He presented his whole cheeky look to torture and moaned wetly: “Oppa, I-I will be an obedient girl-…” The other hand also found a use for itself: it stroked the dimples on the small of the back , assessed the softness of the skin of his buttocks, the viscosity of the lubricant flowing down to his squeezing balls. It slapped sharply on his instantly reddened thigh, eliciting a muffled moan, crushed, kneaded the inside of his thighs, stretched to his tense member, gripping it tightly.
The ambiguous pulsation made Yeonjun's voice sound more ferocious: “Don't you dare to cum, we're not done yet.” The elder gently squeezed the member at the base, continuing to fuck Beomgyu with a vibrating toy. He whined, begging for mercy on him, on his body, which clearly could not withstand such torment.
He wanted to cum so unbearably that he almost sobbed, turning his desperate, maddened with passion voice into a quasi-angry one: Fuck me already!” he growled almost like an animal:” Put your fucking dick deeper in me and fuck me, ah!” Yeonjun grinned, pulling the vibrator out completely. The ring of anal muscles was squeezed in rhythm with his completely disrupted breathing. His palm collected the excess lubricant between the guy's trembling legs and smeared it over his cock.
“..How rude and ... vulgar. Didn't you want to be an obedient girl? Or is it my turn to call you oppa now, Beomgyu-ya?”he hesitated, resting his head between his buttocks and only teasingly pressing on the squeezing anus. “What would you prefer?”
“I would prefer for your dick to be in my ass as soon as possible, “Beomgyu whined, persistently rocking back, towards the pressure. But his buttock was suddenly slapped again, not allowing him to be willful.
“One more try. Try to be more polite.” The large pulsation of the anus was so acutely felt on the pressing head of the dick - Yeonjun literally felt the other's total submission. He felt that any sweet moan of the guy could tear his head off. But instead of holding himself in his hands, he grabbed the skirt with them and squeezed like a horse's reins.
“ P-please, Yeonjun-oppa, I will be anyone, just Im begging you, fuck me ... “ his thirsty wet gaze was directed over his shoulder, feeling how the fabric of the skirt was tightly stretched. He opened his mouth, weakly babbling through the awareness - it was not only the skirt that was stretched. “ F-fuck me, yes, fuck ... oh my- ... agh! - …”
When the head with difficulty went deeper than the squeezing muscles of the sphincter, Yeonjun freely pushed to the limit, freezing from the sensations. Drowning in a drawn-out moan, in the form of a body stretched with pleasure, its curves flooded with purple neon. Drowning in his own control over someone else's mind, voice and pleasure. There was no point in holding back, they were both long at the limit to continue playing.
The wet slaps increased their frequency, Beomgyu's cheeky moans became higher, but his talkativeness did not change: “Agh-ha... oppa's dick is so hot... agh-ha, It feels like I’m going to melt from it…”
“Is it that hot?” Yeonjun breathed out hoarsely, roughly fucking the guy, who was either spreading his buttocks wider or squeezing his tucked testicles or his pulsating cock, beating from the amplitude along his lower abdomen. And now his depraved fingers made Yeonjun covered in prickly goosebumps: the middle and ring fingers penetrated inside with the next push, filling the already narrow space.
Beomgyu moaned uncontrollably at the top of his lungs, fucking himself with his fingers at the same time as Yeonjun, who was also on the edge due to the tightness.
Barely weaving thoughts into words, he continued:” I don’t know about the cock, but the sight before me is incredibly hot. Maybe we should add another finger?” The answer was a stifled groan and a completely ruined expression on his face with an unfocused look and stained with peach shine, saliva, and involuntary tears. Yeonjun, continuing to fuck the body convulsing in pre-orgasmic spasms, licked his thumb generously and moaned uncontrollably, trying to carefully penetrate the swollen anus with it.
The abused walls tightened, clasping the entire pulsating member at once, Beomgyu trembled so violently that he had to be held by the edge of his skirt, hammering into the clenched passage along with three fingers already. All this drove him crazy - the heat inside, and the multiple penetrations, and his convulsive pleas to fuck him until he lost consciousness. His stormy orgasm, now striping not only the skirt, but the entire sheet beneath him. A broken voice, a high drawn-out moan, bringing Yeonjun closer to the edge. He had enough strength to push in two or three times before he himself spilled right into Beomgyu, falling on top of him without strength.
♡ ♡ ♡
They showered in dead silence, listening only to the frantic beating of their hearts and the faint ringing in their ears. And after, as their minds cleared along with the running water, Yeonjun helped Beomgyu change the stained bed sheets. That damned skirt was also tossed into the laundry.
"You know, this is probably the best hangout at your place in the last two years," the older boy jokes, trying to at least get a smile out of Beomgyu. But he only hid his flushed cheeks behind his hair and remained tense and silent. He merely hummed in response, still focused on fixing the sheets.
"Hey, you're not planning to start ignoring me now, are you?"
" I j-just." Beomgyu mumbled, collapsing messily onto the bed before he could even reach the corner of the sheet. He sat up on the edge, exhaling shakily, clearly restless in his own room. Yeonjun, concerned, sat down beside him. "I just don't know what to do with this stupid mess... This went completely wrong. Not at all how I wanted it to…My fuckin’ head..."
"How did you want it to go...?” Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I wanted... at least this time... to be brave enough to confess. I'm so tired of dropping hints, but I couldn't bring myself to say it outright either... And it's all because of your damn thighs in those light jeans! When I was wiping off the coffee, feeling your firm muscles, I was terrified I'd come right there," Beomgyu groaned, burying his face in his hands, whimpering softly. "I've liked you for so long, hyung. For two whole years. And I wanted to do this right— to be honest with you, maybe... maybe even hope for a kiss. Or at least... a gentle rejection that wouldn't change our friendship. But instead, everything turned out so... so-"
"Beomgyu..." The younger boy dropped his head in defeat, his fists clenched on his knees.
"Even when you fucked me, you didn't kiss me even for once. God, I must be pathetic..."
"Beomgyu!" Yeonjun turned his burning face toward him, immediately catching the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.
Seeing them was unbearable-just like watching his swollen, trembling lips, his sniffling nose, the way his chin quivered with each breath. But at that moment, Yeonjun hated only himself —for letting it come to this. But there were no fatuous situations that couldn't be fixed together.
"For the past two years, Beomgyu-ah..." Yeonjun murmured, locking eyes with him, their gazes flickering. "I've always been curious- how does your peach lip gloss taste?" Beomgyu blinked in shock at the sudden shift in Yeonjun’s mood.
“ L-Like a salted caramel."
"That sounds... tempting," Yeonjun murmured, licking his lips unconsciously. "Can I... try?"
A reflexive nod was his answer. Beomgyu had never denied him anything. Their lips met in a hesitant touch-soft, like a tasting, an exchange of quiet breaths. Then, after a brief pause of realization, they leaned in again, this time deeper, wetter, bolder. The lingering kiss left a trace of mixed saliva and a flushed redness on their lips.
"It really is sweet.." Yeonjun whispered against his mouth, threading his fingers through thick hair. Beomgyu struggled to keep up, still unable to fully process who was kissing him so insistently, so hungrily.
"H-hyung... wait..." He pulled away slightly, their breaths still mingling, hot and shallow. "I washed off all the gloss in the shower, so..."
"Oh, really?" Yeonjun gasped theatrically, sighing dramatically before closing the gap again, his lips grazing over Beomgyu's. "What a fatuous situation ..."