Chapter Text
The alarm clock blinked 3:47 AM in harsh red numerals. Yoo Joonghyuk lay rigid on his back, staring at the ceiling cracks mapping constellations only insomnia could decipher. Beside him, Kim Dokja slept curled tight like a question mark, blankets swallowed up to his chin. His breathing hitched occasionally—soft, fractured sounds escaping parted lips. Joonghyuk’s gaze slid sideways. Dokja’s shoulder blades jutted sharply beneath thin fabric, a ridge too pronounced. The thought surfaced unbidden: How much weight had he lost? Fingers twitched at his side, restless. He’d seen ribs through shirts, collarbones like wings. But seeing wasn’t knowing. Knowing required touch.
Slowly, Joonghyuk shifted onto his elbow. The blanket edge lay trapped under Dokja’s hip. He hooked a thumb beneath the hem, tugged downward. Fabric slid like water, pooling at the waist. Pale skin emerged—the dip of a spine, the hollow curve above jutting hipbones. Joonghyuk’s palm pressed flat against Dokja’s stomach. Cold. Too cold. Bone met flesh too easily beneath his fingers as he traced upward, over ribs that felt like ladder rungs.
Dokja stirred with a sharp inhale. Eyes fluttered open, unfocused, then widened. "Wha—?" His voice cracked. He scrambled backward, sheets tangling around his legs. "Joonghyuk-ah?" Panic edged the words. One hand flew to cover his abdomen, fingers digging into skin as if hiding valleys between bones. "Don’t—don’t look. It’s…" He trailed off, cheeks flushing crimson. Joonghyuk didn’t pause. His hand followed, sliding higher, past the frantic grasp. Fingers brushed the dip beneath Dokja’s sternum, then higher still; over the subtle swell of his chest. Surprise flickered through Joonghyuk. Soft. Unexpectedly so. Plush warmth filled his palm, spilling slightly at the edges despite the sharp angles everywhere else. He squeezed once, experimentally. Dokja froze, breath catching. A choked noise escaped him—half-protest, half something else entirely. Joonghyuk’s thumb rubbed a slow circle over a nipple, feeling it tighten beneath thin cotton. Dokja shuddered, eyes squeezing shut.
"Stop," Dokja whispered, voice thin as paper. He tried to twist away, but Joonghyuk’s grip tightened, pinning him. His other hand came up, trembling, trying to push Joonghyuk’s wrist aside. "It’s disgusting. Just… bones." The flush deepened, spreading down his neck. He wouldn’t meet Joonghyuk’s gaze, staring instead at the rumpled sheets bunched between them. His ribs still rose and fell too quickly beneath Joonghyuk’s palm. Joonghyuk ignored the plea. His gaze remained fixed on where his hand rested, fingers splayed possessively. He traced the outline beneath Dokja’s shirt—the surprising curve contradicting the sharp jut of collarbone beneath it. The texture was undeniable: yielding flesh beneath calloused fingertips, a stark contrast to the brittle feel of Dokja’s ribs moments before. He pressed deeper, feeling the frantic flutter of Dokja’s heartbeat against his palm. Dokja whimpered, a raw, vulnerable sound that hung in the pre-dawn stillness.
Silence stretched, thick and charged. Dokja’s breathing hitched again, ragged. He stayed rigid, trapped between Joonghyuk’s unyielding touch and his own burning shame. Joonghyuk finally lifted his gaze. His expression remained impassive, utterly unreadable in the dim light filtering through the blinds. He offered no reassurance, no disgust—just that heavy, assessing stare. His thumb moved again, a slow, deliberate stroke over the soft swell beneath Dokja’s shirt. Dokja flinched, biting his lip hard enough to blanch it white. Then, without a word, Joonghyuk’s free hand moved. Fingers caught the hem of Dokja’s thin sleep shirt. Dokja gasped, a sharp intake of air. "Joonghyuk-ah—!" The protest died as Joonghyuk tugged the fabric upwards, bunching it beneath Dokja’s armpits. Cool air washed over exposed skin, making Dokja shiver violently. His stomach looked impossibly concave beneath the stark jut of his hipbones, ribs starkly visible beneath pale, tight-stretched skin. Joonghyuk’s gaze didn’t linger on the angles. His hand, still resting possessively on Dokja’s chest, slid lower now, tracing the sharp ridge of a rib, the hollow beneath it, then down further. Calloused fingertips skimmed the sensitive skin just below Dokja’s navel, making him jerk.
Joonghyuk leaned down. Dokja froze, eyes wide with disbelief. A hot, wet stripe of sensation burned its way upwards. Joonghyuk’s tongue traced a path from the dip where the blankets had pooled low on Dokja’s hips, over the trembling plane of his abdomen, past the stark cage of ribs, and finally, deliberately, over the soft swell of his chest. It paused, swirling hot and insistent around one peaked nipple already tightened by the cool air and panic. Dokja cried out, a thin, keening sound muffled against his own clenched fist. His hips bucked weakly, a futile attempt to escape the overwhelming sensation. His other hand scrabbled uselessly against Joonghyuk’s shoulder, pushing with no strength.
Joonghyuk didn’t stop. His tongue flicked sharply against the captured nipple, drawing another choked whimper from Dokja’s throat. Then, he shifted slightly, his mouth moving to the other side, teeth grazing lightly before his tongue swept over it with the same relentless heat. The message was wordless, undeniable: This. This softness, this warmth, this reaction. Dokja trembled violently, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The frantic push against Joonghyuk’s shoulder grew weaker, his fingers curling limply into the fabric of Joonghyuk’s shirt instead. A low moan escaped him, unbidden, as Joonghyuk sucked gently, the sensation arcing straight down Dokja’s spine. He was drowning in touch, in heat, in the terrifying contradiction of Joonghyuk’s silent affirmation against the sharp bones he couldn’t hide.
Dokja’s head thumped back against the pillow, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. "Please," he whispered again, the word cracking, stripped bare. It wasn’t just a plea to stop; it was a raw scrape of vulnerability laid open. "It’s… wrong." His gaze flickered desperately towards his own exposed ribs, stark shadows in the dim light, then squeezed shut again as Joonghyuk’s hand slid lower once more. Calloused fingers traced the sharp edge of his hipbone, dipped into the hollow beneath it, a touch both possessive and exploratory. Dokja flinched, a fresh wave of shame washing over him. He felt like a collection of angles and hollows, every protruding bone a testament to his failure, his inadequacy laid bare under Joonghyuk’s unreadable scrutiny.
Joonghyuk’s mouth finally lifted from Dokja’s chest, leaving damp skin pebbled and sensitive in the cool air. He straightened slightly, his shadow falling over Dokja’s trembling form. His gaze, dark and intense, roamed slowly over Dokja’s exposed torso – the concave stomach, the ladder of ribs, the flushed skin of his chest still bearing the marks of Joonghyuk’s attention. Dokja instinctively tried to curl inward, to shield himself, but Joonghyuk’s hand remained firmly planted on his hipbone, anchoring him in place. The silence stretched, thick with Dokja’s ragged breathing and the frantic thudding of his own heart against his ribs. He braced himself for disgust, for the cold withdrawal he expected. Instead, Joonghyuk’s free hand lifted. Not to push Dokja’s shirt back down, not to cover the sharp angles. His thumb brushed lightly, almost thoughtfully, over the flushed curve of Dokja’s chest, right where the softness yielded beneath his touch. His gaze lingered there, then flicked briefly to Dokja’s terrified, tear-streaked face. There was no pity in his eyes. No reassurance. Only a deep, unsettling focus, an almost silent calculation Dokja couldn’t decipher. Then, deliberately, Joonghyuk’s palm settled heavily back onto that soft swell, his fingers curling possessively around the flesh. He squeezed again, firmer this time, a silent claim on the unexpected pliancy amidst the brittle frame. Dokja shuddered, a fresh wave of confused heat flooding his cheeks beneath the lingering shame.
Joonghyuk’s gaze drifted lower, past the trembling abdomen, past the sharp jut of Dokja’s hips. It snagged, paused. A distinct tenting strained against the thin fabric of Dokja’s boxers and the rumpled sheet clinging low on his hips. The outline was undeniable, thick and straining upwards, betraying a desperate arousal that clashed violently with Dokja’s trembling vulnerability and whispered pleas. A low, almost imperceptible hum vibrated in Joonghyuk’s chest. His eyes darkened, the intense focus sharpening into something predatory, intrigued. Sensitive, the thought echoed, watching Dokja’s cock twitch visibly beneath the fabric, seemingly reacting to the mere memory of Joonghyuk’s mouth on his chest. Without breaking his stare, Joonghyuk’s hand still possessively cupping Dokja’s chest shifted. His thumb found the hardened peak of Dokja’s nipple again and rubbed, slow, deliberate circles through the damp cotton. Dokja gasped, hips jerking involuntarily, pushing his trapped erection more firmly against the confining sheet. A choked moan escaped him, high and thin. Joonghyuk’s lips curved faintly, the ghost of satisfaction. He leaned down, his breath hot against Dokja’s trembling skin, bypassing the hollow stomach entirely. His tongue, wet and demanding, lashed out just below Dokja’s navel, tracing the sensitive dip above the straining tent in his boxers. The tip dipped teasingly into the shallow groove, tasting salt and panic.
Dokja cried out, back arching off the bed despite himself. The dual assault was overwhelming: the rough, rhythmic torment on his nipple sending jolts straight to his aching cock, and the hot, wet stripe of Joonghyuk’s tongue hovering agonizingly close to where he throbbed. His hands fisted uselessly in the sheets. “Ah—Joonghyuk-ah!” His voice was a ragged whisper, stripped of protest, thick with helpless need. He couldn’t push him away, couldn’t hide, couldn’t stop the quiet, desperate moans escaping with each slow circle of Joonghyuk’s thumb and each teasing flick of his tongue just above his trapped hardness. He was laid bare, trembling, caught between sharp shame and the terrifying, undeniable pull of sensation, of arousal.
Joonghyuk’s gaze remained locked on the straining outline beneath damp cotton. That low hum vibrated again, deeper this time. With deliberate slowness, his fingers hooked into the waistband of Dokja’s boxers and tugged them down, freeing the flushed, thick length that sprang up against Dokja’s concave stomach. The contrast was obscene: the stark vulnerability of ribs and hollows against the rigid, leaking arousal. Dokja whimpered, trying to cover himself, but Joonghyuk caught his wrist, pinning it back to the mattress with crushing strength. His eyes, dark and intent, held Dokja’s terrified gaze for a heartbeat before lowering. Without preamble, he leaned down and took Dokja into his mouth.
Heat. Wetness. Pressure. Dokja gasped, hips jerking upwards instinctively. Joonghyuk’s mouth was hot and tight, but the sheer size was immediately apparent. He managed a few shallow bobs, tongue swirling roughly around the head, before Dokja felt the telltale hitch, a slight gag as Joonghyuk tried to take him deeper. The sound was choked, muffled against Dokja’s skin, followed by a reflexive tightening of Joonghyuk’s throat muscles that sent sparks shooting up Dokja’s spine. Joonghyuk pulled back slightly, eyes watering faintly, only to surge down again with more force. Another gag, sharper this time, throat convulsing violently around the intrusion. Dokja whimpered, torn between the exquisite friction and the jarring sound of Joonghyuk’s struggle. “T-too much…” he breathed, but his traitorous hips lifted, seeking more of that hot, constricting pressure. The rhythm grew frantic, desperate. Joonghyuk’s head bobbed, taking him deeper each time, only to gag and pull back before reaching the base. The wet sounds, the choked breaths, the sheer visual of Joonghyuk’s lips stretched obscenely wide—it flooded Dokja’s senses. Pleasure coiled tight, a white-hot wire fraying his thoughts. He felt the familiar, terrifying pressure building low in his belly, obliterating shame, obliterating thought. With a ragged groan that tore from his throat, Dokja’s hands flew down, tangling violently in Joonghyuk’s dark hair. He didn’t ask, didn’t hesitate. He yanked Joonghyuk’s head down with desperate strength, forcing him impossibly deeper.
Joonghyuk’s nose slammed flush against Dokja’s smooth pelvis. A strangled, wet choke ripped from Joonghyuk’s throat, his entire body jerking violently as Dokja’s cock hit the back of his throat and stayed buried. Dokja felt it—the convulsive spasms of Joonghyuk’s throat muscles fighting the intrusion, the desperate flutter against the sensitive underside of his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, primal. Dokja threw his head back, a guttural cry tearing loose as he felt Joonghyuk gagging helplessly around him, the vibrations sending him hurtling towards the edge. He held him there, pinned, drowning in the brutal intimacy of Joonghyuk’s choked surrender.
Saliva dripped hotly onto Dokja’s skin where Joonghyuk’s lips strained against his base. Tears leaked from Joonghyuk’s tightly shut eyes, smearing tracks down his cheeks. His hands clawed reflexively at Dokja’s bony hips, nails digging crescent moons into pale skin, a futile attempt to push away the suffocating depth. The choked sounds continued—wet, ragged gasps forced past the obstruction whenever Joonghyuk managed a shallow inhale. Dokja watched, mesmerized and horrified, as Joonghyuk’s jaw trembled with the strain, his throat working furiously against the impossible thickness filling him. Yet, he didn’t pull away. He endured, trembling, tears mingling with spit on Dokja’s skin.
Dokja’s climax hit like a detonation. His hips snapped upwards once more, grinding Joonghyuk’s face harder against his pelvis as thick pulses erupted deep into that convulsing throat. He felt each hot jet trigger another choked spasm, another desperate swallow. Joonghyuk’s body shuddered violently beneath Dokja’s hands still tangled in his hair. The sounds were obscene—wet gulps, ragged coughs muffled against Dokja’s flesh—as Joonghyuk fought to breathe, to swallow, pinned beneath Dokja’s release. Dokja’s own groan was long and ragged, echoing the choked struggle beneath him, his vision whiting out. Slowly, agonizingly, Dokja released his death grip on Joonghyuk’s hair. Joonghyuk wrenched himself back with a gasp that turned into a harsh, wet cough. Strings of spit and come connected his swollen lips to Dokja’s softening cock. He hunched over, shoulders heaving, coughing violently into his fist, tears still streaming freely. His face was flushed crimson, eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Dokja stared down at him, trembling himself, the sharp angles of his ribs rising and falling rapidly. The silence was broken only by Joonghyuk’s ragged breaths and the frantic pounding of Dokja’s own heart. Joonghyuk wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing it, his gaze lifting slowly, dark and unreadable, to meet Dokja’s wide, shocked eyes.
Joonghyuk just stared, his breathing still uneven, a faint tremor running through his frame. He pushed himself up onto his knees on the rumpled sheets. His movements were stiff, deliberate. He reached out, fingers brushing Dokja’s sharp hipbone before sliding firmly around his narrow waist. Dokja flinched slightly, but Joonghyuk merely pulled him forward, shifting him higher on the bed.
"Lie back," Joonghyuk rasped, his voice rough and strained. His hands pressed firmly on Dokja’s slightly bony shoulders, guiding him flat against the pillows. Dokja obeyed, bewildered, his eyes fixed on Joonghyuk’s face. Without breaking eye contact, Joonghyuk swung one leg over Dokja’s hips, straddling him. The thin fabric of his own sleep pants did nothing to hide the hard, thick outline pressing against Dokja’s lower stomach. Dokja’s breath hitched. He’s…?
"Lift," Joonghyuk commanded, his voice low and gravelly. Dokja hesitated, then slowly lifted his hips. Joonghyuk hooked his fingers into the waistband of Dokja’s boxers and pants, tugging them down past his knees in one swift motion, leaving him completely exposed beneath the stark angles of his frame. Then, Joonghyuk shifted his weight, positioning himself directly over Dokja’s hips. He reached back, fingers finding Dokja’s spent cock, still wet and sensitive. Dokja gasped sharply as Joonghyuk guided him firmly against his own entrance, still clothed but straining.
A choked sound escaped Joonghyuk’s throat as he pressed down, the blunt head of Dokja’s cock nudging insistently against the fabric barrier. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, jaw clenched. "Enough," he breathed, fingers trembling slightly where they gripped Dokja’s hips. "Just… do it." He lifted himself slightly, then sank down hard, grinding against Dokja through the thin cotton. The friction was rough, intense. Dokja cried out, his hands flying up to grip Joonghyuk’s thighs, feeling the powerful muscles tense beneath his fingers. The sheer unexpectedness, the raw demand in Joonghyuk’s posture – Dokja was frozen, overwhelmed, yet his body responded instantly, filling again beneath the desperate friction. Joonghyuk’s head fell back, a low groan tearing from his throat as he rocked down again, seeking more. "Faster," he gritted out, the command rough, almost desperate. His hips moved with a frantic urgency Dokja had never seen in him, chasing his own release against Dokja’s renewed hardness.
It caused Dokja cry out roughly., overwhelmed but aroused again. Joonghyuk demanded faster movement, riding Dokja frantically through the fabric to chase his own climax.
Dokja stared up at the strained lines of Joonghyuk’s face, the sweat beading on his temple, the raw need etched into every movement. The sight ignited something primal, reckless. He wants this. He needs it. The thought cut through the haze of his own arousal. With a surge of impatient strength fueled by adrenaline, Dokja shoved upwards against Joonghyuk’s thighs. It was futile against Joonghyuk’s solid weight – like pushing against stone. Joonghyuk barely budged, his rhythm faltering only slightly, a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes as he looked down. But then, deliberately, he stopped. He went utterly still, his gaze locked on Dokja’s, heavy and expectant. He didn’t resist. He simply… allowed.
Seizing the opening, Dokja scrambled. His hands flew to the waistband of Joonghyuk’s sleep pants, fingers fumbling with the drawstring. He yanked them down roughly, past Joonghyuk’s hips, exposing the hard, flushed length of him, the tight furl beneath. Without hesitation, Dokja leaned up, capturing Joonghyuk’s mouth in a fierce, messy kiss. It was all teeth and clashing tongues, Dokja pouring every ounce of his own frantic need, his confusion, his want into it. He shoved his tongue deep, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood – maybe from his own bitten lip, maybe from Joonghyuk’s earlier struggle. "Need… you…" Dokja gasped against Joonghyuk’s lips, the words muffled, raw. "Need to feel you… properly." His free hand, slick with his own saliva, slid down Joonghyuk’s stomach, over the curve of his ass. One finger, tentative at first, then insistent, pressed against Joonghyuk’s entrance.
Joonghyuk stiffened, a sharp intake of breath hissing between their joined lips. His hands clamped down hard on Dokja’s shoulders, nails digging in. Dokja felt the incredible tightness, the resistance. He pressed harder, circling, his finger slicking the tight ring of muscle with spit. "Relax," Dokja murmured against Joonghyuk’s mouth, his voice thick. "For me." He pushed the tip of his finger inside, just past the first knuckle. The heat was intense, clenching impossibly tight. Joonghyuk jerked, a low, guttural sound vibrating against Dokja’s chest. His hips pushed back instinctively, seeking more pressure even as his body resisted. Dokja worked the finger slowly, shallowly, feeling the muscle reluctantly yield. "That’s it," he breathed, kissing along Joonghyuk’s jaw, down the straining tendon in his neck. "Just… let me." He added a second finger, stretching carefully, feeling Joonghyuk’s entire body shudder above him, taut as a bowstring.
Joonghyuk’s head dropped back, pressing against the pillow. His breaths came in ragged bursts, hot against cool morning air. His cock, thick and flushed, strained against his own stomach, leaking steadily. Dokja crooked his fingers, searching, rubbing deliberately against the spot that made Joonghyuk gasp, his hips stuttering. "There?" Dokja asked, his own voice rough. Joonghyuk didn’t answer with words. A strangled groan tore from his throat, his hands fisting in the sheets beside Dokja’s head. His back arched, pushing down onto Dokja’s fingers, demanding more. Dokja obliged, scissoring, stretching, feeling the desperate clutch of Joonghyuk’s body around him. The sounds were raw, unfiltered – sharp gasps, bitten-off curses, the slick slide of fingers working him open. Dokja watched the sweat bead on Joonghyuk’s temple, the tremor in his powerful thighs. He was unraveling, the controlled facade cracking under the relentless invasion.
"Now," Joonghyuk ground out, lifting his head. His eyes were dark pools, pupils blown wide, fixed on Dokja’s face. "Do it. *Now*." He braced his hands on Dokja’s chest, fingers splayed possessively over the soft swell as he slightly lifted himself up. Dokja withdrew his fingers, leaving Joonghyuk trembling, exposed. He guided his own cock, hard and aching again, to Joonghyuk’s entrance. The blunt head pressed against the stretched, slicked opening. Joonghyuk’s jaw clenched, his gaze never wavering. He lowered himself slowly, agonizingly, inch by inch. Dokja felt the incredible, burning tightness, the clench of muscle fighting the intrusion. Joonghyuk’s breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping as the head finally popped past the resistance. He ground down further, taking Dokja deeper, his body trembling violently with the effort. Dokja groaned, his hands flying to Joonghyuk’s hips, feeling the powerful muscles strain as he sheathed himself completely. The heat was suffocating, the fit impossibly tight. Joonghyuk paused, breathing hard, his head thrown back, throat working. Dokja could feel the frantic pulse where they were joined.
Joonghyuk’s hands tightened on Dokja’s chest before sliding over his shoulders to grapple at his back, fingers digging into the yielding flesh. He began to move. Slowly at first, deliberately fucking himself back onto Dokja’s cock, each motion drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His eyes opened, locking onto Dokja’s, intense and demanding. "Look," he rasped, his voice raw. "Look at me." Dokja obeyed, mesmerized by the raw need etched on Joonghyuk’s face, the sweat tracing paths down his neck, the way his body moved – powerful, controlled, yet utterly consumed. The rhythm built, Joonghyuk setting a relentless pace, taking Dokja deeper with every downward thrust. Dokja’s hands slid up Joonghyuk’s sweat-slicked chest, feeling the ripple of muscle, the desperate arch as Joonghyuk chased his own release, grinding down hard, demanding everything Dokja had to give. The air crackled with the sounds of their ragged breathing, the slick slap of skin, the low, guttural sounds torn from Joonghyuk’s throat as he practically rode Dokja with fierce, possessive abandon. Then, a shift. Joonghyuk’s movements faltered. His powerful thighs trembled violently on either side of Dokja’s hips, the relentless pace of his own movements catching up. His head lolled to the side, dark hair clinging to his damp forehead. A shudder wracked his frame, a low, broken whimper escaping his lips as he reached his peak, his body clenching impossibly tight around Dokja, milking him. His breathing ragged and shallow against the pillow. The iron grip on Dokja’s back loosened, hands sliding limply to the sheets. Weakened, Spent.
Dokja saw his chance. With a surge of adrenaline, fueled by the sight of the formidable regressor undone and the heat still coiling in his own belly, he moved. He bucked his hips sharply forwards, Joonghyuk’s eyes flew open wide with shock, still glazed with the aftershocks of his climax. He was pliant, limbs loose, chest heaving. Dokja didn’t hesitate. He hooked his hands under Joonghyuk’s powerful thighs, pushing them back towards his chest, spreading him wide, exposing him completely. He positioned himself and slammed back in, hard and deep, reclaiming the tight, wet heat in a single, brutal thrust.
Joonghyuk cried out, a sharp, startled sound that dissolved into a high-pitched whine. His head thrashed on the pillow. Dokja set a punishing rhythm, driving into him with raw, untamed force. Each powerful snap of his hips punched the air from Joonghyuk’s lungs. Dokja’s gaze was fixed lower, transfixed. With every deep, claiming thrust, a distinct bulge surged beneath the taut skin of Joonghyuk’s lower abdomen – the unmistakable outline of Dokja’s cock stretching him from the inside. It pulsed visibly, a lewd testament to the depth Dokja was taking, imprinting itself against Joonghyuk’s sweat-sheened flesh.
Joonghyuk’s mouth fell slack. A low, continuous moan spilled out, punctuated by breathy whimpers with every jarring impact. Drool gathered at the corner of his lips, tracing a wet path down his jaw, pooling on the pillow beneath his head. His eyes rolled back, unfocused, lost in pure sensation. His tongue lolled slightly out, trembling with each desperate gasp for air Dokja’s pounding rhythm allowed him. He was reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess beneath Dokja’s relentless assault, his powerful body yielding completely, every sharp cry and visible bulge broadcasting his utter surrender to the pleasure being ruthlessly wrung from him.
Dokja watched the bulge beneath Joonghyuk’s skin pulse obscenely with every deep thrust. A primal satisfaction surged through him, mingling with the raw need coiling tighter in his own gut. He leaned forward, bracing one hand beside Joonghyuk’s sweat-drenched head, his other hand wrapping around Joonghyuk’s neglected, leaking cock. He squeezed hard, thumb rubbing roughly over the slick head in time with his thrusts. "Feel it?" Dokja hissed, his voice ragged with exertion and desire. "Feel how deep I am? How much I take from you?" His hips snapped forward, grinding deep, emphasizing the brutal claim.
Joonghyuk’s back arched violently off the mattress, a strangled scream tearing from his throat. His cock pulsed in Dokja’s grip, thick ropes of come splattering across his own heaving stomach and Dokja’s knuckles. The tight channel around Dokja clenched in agonizingly perfect spasms, milking him. Dokja groaned, his own climax crashing over him, driving him to bury himself impossibly deeper as he emptied himself into Joonghyuk’s shuddering body. He collapsed forward, his weight pressing Joonghyuk flat, his forehead resting against Joonghyuk’s sweat-slicked shoulder, both of them gasping, trembling, utterly spent in the wreckage of tangled sheets and shared heat.
Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by their ragged breaths. Dokja slowly lifted his head, his gaze tracing the stark lines of Joonghyuk’s face, the tear tracks dried on his cheeks, the slackness of utter exhaustion. He made no move to withdraw, his softening cock still nestled deep within Joonghyuk’s warmth. The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and salt. Joonghyuk’s eyes remained closed, his breathing gradually evening out, his body utterly pliant beneath Dokja’s weight. Then, a minute shift. Dokja instinctively flexed his hips, a barely-there movement as he adjusted his weight. The slight friction against Joonghyuk’s oversensitive inner walls triggered an immediate reaction. A low, broken whimper escaped Joonghyuk’s parted lips, his entire body flinching violently beneath Dokja. His eyes flew open, wide and unfocused, a fresh sheen of tears welling instantly. "Nngh—!" The sound was raw, involuntary, a direct result of nerves still screaming from the brutal claiming. He instinctively tried to clench down, almost as if he was trying to push out the source of the overwhelming sensation, but the movement only intensified the friction, drawing another choked gasp from him.
Dokja froze, startled. He felt the tremor run through Joonghyuk’s frame, saw the raw vulnerability etched on his face, the tears spilling over. But he also felt the unmistakable response within himself. The soft flesh pressed against his own groin, the heat still radiating from Joonghyuk’s core, the helpless sounds of oversensitivity – it ignited a spark. His cock, still nestled deep, began to thicken again, filling against the tight, trembling heat. The sensation of his own renewed hardness pressing against Joonghyuk’s prostate sent a fresh jolt through the man beneath him. Joonghyuk cried out, a high, keening sound, his hips jerking weakly in a futile attempt to escape the dual assault of sensation.
Driven by a surge of possessive heat, Dokja didn’t pull out. Instead, he pressed down, grinding his hips deliberately against Joonghyuk’s. The motion was slow, deep, and relentless, his hardening length rubbing directly over the swollen, abused gland inside. Joonghyuk’s breath hitched, his back arching off the mattress in a silent scream. His hands flew up, fingers tangling weakly in Dokja’s hair, not to push away, but to anchor himself against the onslaught. "Ah, Dokja!" His voice was a shattered whisper, thick with tears and unbearable sensation. Each deliberate grind sent visible tremors through his powerful frame, his cock twitching pathetically against his stomach, utterly spent yet still reacting. Dokja watched, mesmerized, as the formidable regressor dissolved into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath the relentless friction, completely at the mercy of the sensitivity Dokja was ruthlessly exploiting.
Dokja leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Joonghyuk’s ear. "Can’t take it?" he murmured, his voice rough, dark. "After everything?" His hips rolled again, deep and grinding, wringing another choked sob from Joonghyuk. "You wanted this." He nipped at Joonghyuk’s earlobe, feeling the full-body shudder it elicited. "You took everything. Now feel it." He shifted, angling his thrusts to hit that spot with pinpoint accuracy. Joonghyuk’s cry was raw, broken, his legs trembling where they were still hooked over Dokja’s arms. Tears streamed freely down his temples, soaking into the pillow. He was beyond words, reduced to ragged gasps and helpless, high-pitched whines with every deep, possessive grind.
The sight, the sounds, the overwhelming heat and tightness – it coiled Dokja’s own pleasure tighter. He moved faster now, his thrusts becoming shallow, urgent jabs focused solely on that sensitive bundle of nerves. Joonghyuk writhed, his powerful muscles straining uselessly against the pleasure-pain, his head thrashing side to side. "N-no more... p-please..." he gasped, the plea barely audible, torn from a place of utter surrender. Dokja ignored it, driven by a fierce need to see him break completely, to wring every last shuddering response from his body. He pistoned his hips, the slick sounds obscene in the quiet room, Joonghyuk’s broken whimpers a constant counterpoint.
Then, Joonghyuk froze. His eyes flew wide, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A silent scream seemed to lock in his throat, his entire body bowing taut as a wire. No climax came, he was too spent, but the sheer, overwhelming sensory overload triggered a violent, full-body convulsion. He shook uncontrollably beneath Dokja, muscles seizing, breath catching in ragged hiccups. It was a silent, devastating implosion. Dokja felt the incredible clench, the desperate flutter around him, and with a final, deep grind, he spilled again, groaning Joonghyuk’s name into the sweat-damp skin of his neck as the man beneath him trembled through the aftershocks, utterly shattered and silent.
The sudden stillness that followed was broken only by Joonghyuk’s harsh, uneven gasps. Dokja jerked back as if burned, the possessive heat evaporating instantly into cold dread. He scrambled off Joonghyuk, his softening cock slipping free with a slick, obscene sound that made Joonghyuk flinch violently. Dokja hovered over him, eyes wide with panic. "Joonghyuk-ah?" His voice was a raw scrape. "Hey—look at me. Are you... are you okay?" He reached out, fingers trembling, ghosting over Joonghyuk’s tear stained cheek. "Did I—?"
Joonghyuk turned his head slowly on the pillow. His eyes, red-rimmed and swimming with unshed tears, met Dokja’s. There was no fury, no cold command. Just a profound, exhausted emptiness. He sniffled, a wet, congested sound that seemed incongruous with the raw power he usually radiated. It was almost... vulnerable. Seductive in its sheer helplessness. His gaze held Dokja’s for a long moment, then drifted lower. A trembling hand, weak as a wounded bird, lifted from the tangled sheets. It didn’t push Dokja away. Instead, it pressed weakly, almost pleadingly, against Dokja’s lower abdomen, right above the sharp jut of his hipbone.
Dokja understood instantly. He shuffled back further, putting space between them, his own breath catching at the sight. Joonghyuk’s body was a wreckage of sweat, tears, and drying spend. His entrance looked swollen, abused, glistening wetly in the dim light. As Dokja moved away, Joonghyuk’s legs, still trembling, slowly lowered from their splayed position, a low, pained whimper escaping his lips as his thighs touched the sheets. He curled slightly onto his side, turning his face away in embarrassment, burying it partially in the pillow. His shoulders hitched with another quiet, congested sniffle. The silence stretched, thick with the aftermath of violence and unexpected tenderness, the only sound Joonghyuk’s ragged breathing slowly, painfully, evening out.
The need to do something, to offer some scrap of care, finally propelled Dokja into motion. He slid off the bed, his own limbs shaky, and padded to the large bathroom. He returned with a basin of warm water and a soft washcloth. Kneeling beside the bed, he dipped the cloth, wrung it out, and began with the easiest parts: gently wiping the tear tracks from Joonghyuk’s cheeks, the sweat from his neck and shoulders. Joonghyuk didn’t react much, his eyes closed, breathing shallow. Dokja moved lower, cleaning the sticky mess from Joonghyuk’s stomach and thighs with careful, feather-light strokes. He avoided the most sensitive area, his heart pounding. He couldn’t leave it. The mess inside… it needed cleaning. But the thought of forcing anything near that swollen, reddened entrance made his stomach clench with guilt. He knew it would hurt. Badly.
Taking a steadying breath, Dokja dipped his fingers into the warm water. He leaned closer, his other hand hovering uncertainly near Joonghyuk’s hip. "Joonghyuk-ah," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I need to… clean inside. It’ll just be a moment. Try to relax." He saw Joonghyuk’s jaw tighten infinitesimally, a fresh tremor running through his thigh. Dokja pressed the pad of his middle finger, slick with water, gently against the tight, puffy ring. He felt the immediate, reflexive clench, the resistance like iron. "Shh," he soothed, uselessly. "Just breathe." He applied the slightest pressure, circling. Joonghyuk hissed, his body tensing further. Dokja pushed, just the very tip of his finger breaching the impossibly tight resistance. Joonghyuk cried out – a sharp, wounded sound – and jerked away violently, curling tighter into himself. "Hurts…" he gasped, the word raw and broken. Dokja pulled his hand back as if burned, staring at his own trembling fingers, then at the man who had endured so much only to flinch from a single fingertip. The vulnerability was terrifying, heartbreaking.
He sat back on his heels, the damp washcloth forgotten in the basin. What now? Leave it? That felt like neglect, another kind of violation. Try again? He’d seen the pain, heard the cry. He wondered if he had gone to far, His gaze traced the tense lines of Joonghyuk’s back, the way his shoulders hitched with each shallow breath. The silence stretched, thick with Dokja’s helplessness. He felt useless, adrift in the aftermath of his own actions. He’d pushed too far, taken too much, and now even this small act of care felt impossible. He stared at his hands, the instruments of both pleasure and pain, resting uselessly on his own knees. The basin of water cooled beside him.
A soft sigh broke the stillness. Joonghyuk shifted slowly, uncurling just enough to turn his head. His eyes, still red-rimmed but clearer now, met Dokja’s. There was no reproach, only weary resignation. Then, deliberately, he reached down. His fingers, trembling slightly, closed around Dokja’s wrist. Dokja froze, breath catching, as Joonghyuk guided his hand back. Not away, but towards. Back towards the heat between his legs. Joonghyuk’s gaze held Dokja’s, steady, understanding. He spread his thighs slightly, a silent offering, a profound surrender. The trust in that look was staggering. He was granting permission, accepting the necessary discomfort. Dokja felt a lump form in his throat as his chest swelled with warmth. He dipped his fingers back into the warm if not slightly cooler water, coating them thoroughly. This time, when he pressed against the tender entrance, Joonghyuk didn’t flinch away. He took a slow, deep breath, his body consciously relaxing incrementally beneath Dokja’s touch. Dokja worked with agonizing slowness, one finger easing inside the tight, swollen heat, cleaning gently as Joonghyuk whimpered through the sting, his eyes never leaving Dokja’s face.
Dokja finished quickly, withdrawing his fingers. He wiped the area with the damp cloth, patting softly. Joonghyuk finally closed his eyes, a shuddering breath escaping him as the ordeal ended. Dokja cleaned the rest of him in silence, then pulled the blanket up over Joonghyuk’s hips, covering him. He moved to rise, to take the basin away. A hand shot out, surprisingly strong, gripping his wrist. Dokja looked back. Joonghyuk’s eyes were open again, dark and unreadable. He didn’t speak. He just tugged, a weak but insistent pull towards the bed. Towards the space beside him. Dokja hesitated, then set the basin aside. He slid under the blanket, keeping space between them, his body rigid with uncertainty despite the closeness of earlier. Joonghyuk shifted closer, his movements fluid despite the tremor in his limbs. He pressed his forehead against Dokja’s bony shoulder, his breath warm and uneven against Dokja’s skin. His arm came up, heavy and awkward, draping loosely over Dokja’s waist. The touch wasn’t possessive or demanding. It was… anchoring. Needing contact. Needing closeness in the raw aftermath. Dokja lay frozen, staring into the darkness, feeling the solid weight against him, the faint tremors still running through Joonghyuk’s frame. The silence stretched, thick fragile, terrifying intimacy of shared exhaustion. Joonghyuk’s breathing gradually deepened, his hold slackening slightly as sleep finally claimed him.