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Juhoon wakes up feeling disoriented.
For a moment, he really forgets where he is. That’s until he feels a slight movement behind him. Martin.
The thing is—now he remembers he fell asleep in Martin’s bed last night, after realizing he left his room key at James’ apartment and there’s no way in hell he could come back with the heavy rain and storm happened. And, well, Martin happened. Lanky and freshly showered Martin who laughed at Juhoon when he spotted the shorter standing against his door helplessly at the hallway. Juhoon glared at him yet he could only comply when Martin pushed his room door wide open with raised eyebrows, asking for Juhoon to go in straight away. He was even nice enough to share his dinner with Juhoon. Nice enough to not let Juhoon sleep on the floor.
That’s why he’s sharing the bed with Martin now. Juhoon remembers Martin putting a pillow between them last night, something about keeping their own respective space.
Fucking useless.
Juhoon blinks when he feels Martin warm breath against his nape and their tangled legs, bed cover hanging by a thread on the edge of the bed. He’s trying to look at the floor and search for the missing pillows when Martin’s long arm lands above his stomach, and all hail breaks loose. The remaining unconsciousness leaves Juhoon’s body when he feels it. Martin’s body behind him. He’s tall, sure. But he’s not big big, yet Juhoon knows he’s… small, comparing to the guy. So when sleeping-Martin pulls him closer by the waist, Juhoon feels like trapped. He’s clutching to the sheet so hard his knuckles are turning white. And when Juhoon thinks it couldn’t get worse, Martin inches even closer.
“Martin,” Juhoon whispers. Eyes widens when Martin groans. He tries to peels himself off Martin, but it turns out to be a bad idea. Because then Martin drapes one of his whole legs on top of Juhoon limbs—and then it presses right against Juhoon through his layer of clothing. Martin’s morning wood. Very much real and hot against the fabric of Juhoon sweatpants.
Juhoon can’t breathe. He starts to sweat and his heart is beating like he’s on a marathon. The best option might be just to wake Martin up and leave like nothing happened, but Juhoon can’t even think properly. Not when Martin starts to lets out some gasps before—
“Shit. Martin,” Juhoon tries. He really tries to… to call Martin louder. Juhoon can shout, he should, but it would startle the shit out of him and Juhoon doesn’t want that. The taller is fully grinding his hard on against Juhoon now. Juhoon doesn’t know what to do. “Martin wake up,” Juhoon sighs to the pillow, trying to ignore the fact that he’s getting aroused himself. It’s so fucking wrong, Martin is still sleeping and Juhoon desperately wants to kill himself. He can’t even bring his hands to touch Martin. It feels like his whole body is locked frozen right here and then in Martin’s hold.
Hilarious.
“Martin!”
“Guh?”
Martin shifts behind him.
Three painstakingly long seconds after, the taller shrieks, and proceed to bang the back of his head against the wall while trying to detach himself from Juhoon. “Fuck!”
Juhoon contemplates between getting up or turns to Martin. The pained wail from Martin, however, makes him choose the later swiftly. He sighs before maneuvering his body to face Martin. “Are you okay?” Juhoon murmurs, trying so hard not to stare other than the crease on Martin’s forehead. Or his dry lips. Or his disheveled dirty blond hair.
“Yeah, fuck, ‘m sorry,” Martin’s deep voice makes Juhoon shivers inwardly. “God. Did I cling to you all night? Sorry—where are the fucking pillows.”
And then his gaze lands on Juhoon.
Martin’s bed isn’t small, by any means. But with all the tugging and scattered pillows on the floor, the proximity is kind of dizzying.
“I’m sorry,” Martin says lamely, realizing Juhoon is still staring at him quietly.
Juhoon blinks. “It’s okay.”
You’re good.
You were only all over me half an hour ago.
It was… warm.
Should we get breakfast together?
Juhoon literally has thousands of other things to say. One that wouldn’t make Martin regrets bringing him in yesterday. Yet—
“You’re hard.”
Martin freezes. “What.”
When Martin’s gaze shifts downward towards his own body, Juhoon’s stare stays on his face. “I felt it. When you were…” He’s making the situation worse. Martin is groaning and smashing his face to the pillow. Juhoon couldn’t help but smile: all the guilt and nervousness goes down in the drain catching Martin freaking out. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Martin protests, peeking one eye at Juhoon. Hands scrambling to find the blanket to cover his lower body. Juhoon rolls his eyes. “You should’ve kick me. Or punch me. Anything.”
“For real, it’s okay—”
“It’s definitely not okay, Jesus, Juhoon—”
“It happens,” Juhoon shrugs, trying to be nonchalant about the situation. “You’re good.”
The silence afterward is kind of awkward. Juhoon doesn’t know why he isn’t trying to move away from Martin who’s currently looking anywhere but him. It’s Martin’s room, Martin’s bed, yet he looks like a kicked puppy right there an arm length away from Juhoon. Like he’s intruding Juhoon’s space when it’s actually the other way around.
“Okay then, ‘m just gonna,” Martin clears his throat, runs his fingers over his hair. Looks at Juhoon defeatedly. “Bathroom.”
The thing about Martin is, he’s one of a kind type of guy.
When James introduces them back then, Juhoon doesn’t think much about him. He was recognizable enough because of his height and how he dress on daily basis, but that’s all. Until they hang out more when Juhoon moves dormitory, and he starts to really get to know Martin. All the little things that makes Juhoon develops silly little crush on the blond. Emphasize on silly and little, because he really doesn’t have the intention to do anything about it. Juhoon was content on being Martin’s… twinsky, or whatever he said.
He doesn’t expect it only takes one random sleepover to make his brain turns mushy and wanting more.
So Juhoon licks his lips. Martin’s eyes catches the movement, and the shorter drops the bomb. “Do you want me to help you?”
Martin gasps like he’s a fish fresh out of water. “Juhoon,” he says with choked breath and wide eyes. “You did not just say that,” breathless, Martin rubs his face with his palm. And then he proceed to laugh, like he’s realizing he’s being pranked at. Juhoon frowns. “Good lord, I should probably go back to sleep….”
“You could’ve just said no, Martin.”
Martin’s smile vanishes.
“What.”
“I asked if you want me to help with you with your morning wood.”
Juhoon knows he’s being generous. He doesn’t care. It’s worth it to see Martin’s face go red and nothing comes from his mouth when he opens them for almost half a minute. “Oh. You really mean it,” Martin whispers in awe, Juhoon nods timidly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I thought my mind was fucking with me,” Martin is scanning Juhoon’s face like he’s looking for any doubt. Juhoon responds by inching closer to the boy. His tilts his face so that it’s almost burried in Martin’s neck. He inhales deeply, smelling Martin’s aftershave and making Martin’s breath stutter.
They’re so close, but there’s still a sliver of space between their bodies and they’re still keeping their hands to themselves. It’s starting to annoy Juhoon, with how close yet how far they are. His eyes flickers at Martin’s palms clenching and unclenching against his sides.
“I want to,” Juhoon murmurs, for the record. He notices the way Martin gulps. “Do you?”
Martin is still not looking at him. “I-if you want to.”
“Look at me.”
When Martin tilts his head down, Juhoon puts a tentative fingers against his jaw. He feels the muscles there tensing, Martin biting his lips so hard Juhoon is afraid it’s gonna bleed soon. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. Juhoon finds him adorable.
“I have morning breath,” Martin tries weakly when Juhoon nudges his nose against his philtrum.
“Okay,” Juhoon’s face goes back to the crook of his neck. Smelling, leaving butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin that left Martin breathless. “We can do it just like this. Relax.”
“I can’t.”
This time, Juhoon really can’t hold back his giggle. “Then try.”
With that, Juhoon’s hand goes down to Martin’s lower body. He ignores how hard his heart is beating when his palm reached Martin’s bulge, making the younger jolts. Juhoon presses the heels of his palm steadily, gauging Martin’s reaction. He lets out a groan before hiding one side of his face to the pillow, panting harshly when Juhoon decides to suck on the skin near his collarbone.
“Can I take it off?” Juhoon asks slowly, his own arousal throbbing against his pants when he feels Martin’s dick jumps against his fingers.
Martin nods, whimpers like he’s in pain. “Yeah,” his hand is hesitant when he throws it over Juhoon waist. Juhoon arches his back slightly at the sudden touch, holding back his moan when he feels Martin’s warm, wide palm against the thin layer of clothing. “Please.”
Juhoon slips his hand under Martin’s pants, tugging both of his sweats and loose boxer down to the middle of his glorious thighs. Juhoon can’t help but look—Martin is still fully hard despite everything, the tip of his length is wet with precum. Pubic hair trimmed down nicely. It’s something so on brand, so Martin in a way, Juhoon supposes.
Maybe because it’s Martin, Juhoon realizes, when his fingers trembles trying to grip Martin’s aching erection with his small hand. Martin is breathing so loud Juhoon can hear him other than his own beating heart. He squeezes the base of Martin’s dick hard, teasing, and Martin’s hips bucks in response. Juhoon can feel himself leaking inside his boxer feeling the weight of Martin’s arousal on his hand. “You’re so big,” Juhoon sighs near his jaw, stroking the length earnestly and drinking Martin repressed moans. Everything be damned. “I’d let you fuck me one day.”
“You’re really…” Martin doesn’t finish his sentence, but his body says enough. He’s getting wetter, and his hand wanders on Juhoon’s back. Groping and pulling desperately until they’re actually chest to chest.
Juhoon hums. “Isn’t this better?” he asks in a teasing manner, pressing his thumb on the tip meanly. “Instead of letting you hump me in your sleep.”
“Juhoon—”
“I got hard, too,” Juhoon doesn’t know where’s all the bravado coming from. He’s weirdly into it now hearing how helpless Martin sounds. “When I feel you. Your body on me,” Juhoon licks the skin near Martin’s ear, smiling when the boy shudders violently when he palms the head of his cock. “Look at me. If you’re gonna come.”
Martin shakes his head hard. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m holding your dick.”
Martin is stubborn, yet Juhoon is nothing but a determined guy. He’s moving his hand faster along Martin’s length when he decides to have enough and grab the back of Martin’s head to make him look at Juhoon. His face is all read and he’s sweating like a mad man, something inside Juhoon mind tells him to lick the substance off his temple. But he doesn’t, as a form of… holding himself back, at the very least. Martin’s eyes, usually wide and bright, are now hooded. Dark, staring back at Juhoon who squirms in his hold.
Everything be damned.
Juhoon leans up, kisses Martin, and Martin comes not long after.
Juhoon doesn’t stop until Martin puts a firm hand around his wrist, there’s a string of saliva when Martin leans back to catch his breath. When Juhoon’s eyes flatter open, Martin is already looking at him. His gaze softens, and Juhoon doesn’t expect the light peck on his cheek when Juhoon took his hand off Martin’s spent cock. His stomach feels funny. Stupid fucking crush.
“Thanks,” Martin murmurs, Juhoon nods dazedly. His hand is sticky, his boxer is sticky, so he gets up with a much-needed shower in mind. “Do you… should I. Uh.”
“No need,” Juhoon answers quietly, not embarrassed as he thought he’d be. “I came already. Can I use your bathroom?”
Martin kisses him again after they’re all fresh and clean and brushed their teeth together inside his cramped bathroom, and when he’s kind enough to drop Juhoon at James’ apartment before going to class. Juhoon thinks he could get used to this.