Woojin and Jihoon have been friends for a while. They have been friends for so long that it would be unusual for Woojin not to have taken notice of his friend and every shade of himself he chooses to show. It would be strange for Woojin not to notice the cherry slick of lips as Jihoon nervously swipes his tongue over them, or the treacle blackness of his eyes as he makes an observation in the moment before his gaze meets Woojin’s and there is some joke to be made of it.
Jihoon has a very particular sense of humour and Woojin is glad that they match so well when the glimmer of an idea sparkles in Jihoon’s eyes and he inhales deeply through his nose and he presses himself against Woojin, collapsing with the force of his laughter and weighing Woojin down with the eddies of thoughts that are better suited to another time.
Because Woojin is used to how things always are with Jihoon he already knows what to expect when his mum comes home one day with Yerim’s new swimming costume.
“That’s hideous!” Yerim grumbles from the armchair as she glares over the top of her Nintendo 3DS. The sleepy jingle of her Animal Crossing town is at odds with the grating tone of her voice as she whines, “I can’t wear that! I told you that all the cool girls are wearing bikinis to go swimming! If I turn up in that ugly thing I’ll be a laughingstock!”
Jihoon’s eyes have already taken on that telltale sheen before Woojin’s mum lowers the plain black swimming costume and opens up the carrier bag and takes out another couple of modest swimming costumes in hues of black and navy. Woojin can’t bring himself to find the situation as funny. He doesn’t want Yerim to be made fun of by her classmates. The swimming costumes that their mum bought look as though they would exclude the alternative of her matching her friends and having a nice time at the pool due to their style and the fact that everything in their mum’s hands looks several sizes too big for Yerim’s scrawny frame.
“Mum, you should have at least asked Yerim beforehand what sort of styles she wanted,” Woojin says as diplomatically as he can.
“I did ask her! I did not waste my money on all of these for both of you to be ungrateful! Yerim, you’re going to wear these swimming costumes whether you like it or lump it!”
“But I don’t want to! Why are you trying to ruin my life?” Yerim shouts. It is a mistake and Yerim should know well enough by now to watch her tone when speaking to their mum. Woojin doesn’t think he can salvage this and he already tried to help and failed. All that is left now is to grasp Jihoon’s wrist and pull him up from the settee to go upstairs to his bedroom.
“Your poor sister” Jihoon says cheerily as he sit on the edge of Woojin’s bed. Woojin shrugs and sorts through his DVDs for something he doesn’t mind Jihoon talking all the way through. Not content with Woojin’s lack of response, Jihoon tries again. “It would be so embarrassing for her if everyone else is wearing really cute bikinis that are like pink and flowery while she has to wear something that grandmas use to strap in their saggy tits.”
Woojin stops sorting through his DVDs for something to watch and starts searching for a disc which he wouldn’t mind ruining in the process of decapitating his best friend.
“It’s really a shame,” Jihoon sighs. “Yerim doesn't deserve a nickname like Saggy Tits Granny at her age. She’s a sweet girl with her whole life ahead of her.”
“Jihoon, I hope you understand that I will kill you if you don’t shut up.”
“I don’t want to,” Jihoon says. “I’m trying to show some sympathy and you’re making threats against my life. Hardly seems fair.”
“It is very fair,” Woojin retorts as Yerim hits a new level of shrill screeching downstairs. Woojin wishes she wouldn’t argue back like that. Woojin has to live in this house too and he would rather not live here with his mother taking out every bit of her anger on him because she knows he isn’t dumb enough to try to fight a corner which doesn’t even exist.
“I should go downstairs where I am appreciated. I could tell your mum that those swimming costumes are big enough for me. Or like both of us at the same time.”
Woojin sighs. “Alright they were big but that’s extreme. You’re exaggerating too much.”
“I would put money on being able to wear one. Give me like a chocolate bar and I will prove it.”
“How does that even make sense? Do want money or chocolate?”
Jihoon looks thoughtful for a moment, tapping the tip of his nose and humming obnoxiously. “I want crisps. Did your mum go shopping yet this week?”
Woojin shrugs and hopes Jihoon isn’t genuinely going to aggravate the situation downstairs. If he does Woojin supposes he wouldn’t mind Jihoon getting banished from the house for a few days. Jihoon does not get thrown out of the house and is halfway up the stairs when Woojin is summoned by his mum’s voice.
“I’m taking Yerim to return these swimming costumes,” she says as Woojin leans over the bannister and ignores the goofy expression on Jihoon’s face. “We’ll be back in an hour or so and there are snack in the kitchen.”
“Yeah it looks like Jihoon found them,” Yerim mutters loudly enough for her voice to carry. Jihoon whirls around and Woojin spies a tide of red creeping up the back of Jihoon’s neck. Good, Woojin thinks, he needs to stop causing trouble. Only Jihoon hasn’t stopped causing trouble at all. In the safety of Woojin’s bedroom Jihoon begins to empty his hoodie pockets. He drops a packet of crisps and several fun-sized chocolate bars onto Woojin’s desk before withdrawing something soft and dark with a lycra sheen. There aren’t too many options for what could be in Jihoon’s hands but Woojin asks anyway.
“What is that?”
“Come on, Woojin, take the bet.”
“You’re not going to lose anything if I win,” Jihoon says with a roll of his eyes. “It will be funny.”
Woojin has always insisted that he find things just as funny as Jihoon does. Of course if something is funny enough for Jihoon to sag heavily against Woojin as he wheezes, skin warm and the slow wash of his breath eliciting shivers from Woojin, then it must be funny enough for Woojin to cling to Jihoon just as tightly as he buries his face in the searing invitation of Jihoon’s neck. So Woojin does find some things funny and when he laughs he gives himself over to them as entirely as Jihoon does, except Jihoon leaving his bedroom and returning in nothing but the stolen swimming costume isn’t funny at all.
Woojin’s mouth feels dry and the palms of his hands itch but he can’t move from where he is sitting on the bed. Jihoon had been gone long enough for DVD screensaver to be bouncing around the television set in Woojin’s bedroom but he hadn’t been gone for long enough for Woojin to prepare himself for this.
“What the fuck,” Woojin hisses as Jihoon closes the bedroom door shut behind him. “What if someone saw you like that? How could you just walk around my house looking like that ?”
‘That’ is all Woojin can bring himself to ascribe to Jihoon aloud. Privately he can admit to himself that Jihoon looks obscene.
A bet is a bet and Jihoon habitually takes things far enough to endure the discomfort to prove a point but Woojin wishes the line could have been drawn at a point far earlier than this. The swimming costume is tight… Obviously. It is for girls much younger and slighter than Jihoon and it must have been Jihoon’s predilection for going too far which enabled him to pull the elasticated fabric over his bare body.
The discomfort is apparent in the quick breaths which are highlighted by the glimmering sheen of black lycra-blend catching the light with the inflation and deflation of Jihoon’s lungs. The swimming costume straps are digging into Jihoon’s shoulders hard enough for the skin around them to blanch and the fabric pulls taut across his stomach. That is bad enough but Woojin swallows the dryness of his throat. Jihoon is clearly having no such trouble as he twists this way and that in the swimming costume.
“What did I say? You doubted me but I am going to make you eat those words, Park Woojin!”
Woojin is a good friend and an enabler so he doesn’t bother telling Jihoon that there was only one person involved in making this bet. He doesn’t deny any involvement even though the words aren’t his to eat. He has other things to worry about. Woojin is a good friend and is only empathetic in his concern. He just wants to make sure that Jihoon isn’t injuring himself with his bull-headed behaviour and insistence on playing the fool. So Woojin drops his gaze (out of concern and no other conflict concocting with his curiosity) and immediately wishes that he hadn’t.
Jihoon is carelessly shimmying and making experimental movements with his hips and Woojin hates that his eyes can only focus properly on one area in particular. Jihoon has clearly attempted some tucking but he has done an awful job. He is almost falling out of the gusset of the swimming costume and sparse dark hairs are creeping their way to freedom along with the rest of Jihoon’s body. It isn’t something Woojin wants to see - to have ever seen - of his friend. There are already certain things he has been putting off without Jihoon’s gyrating right in front of his face.
Woojin’s skin prickles and he thinks he might already be sweating when all he is doing is sitting on the edge of his bed and curling deeper in on himself so he isn’t so obvious about the effects that Jihoon is having on him. He feels almost light-headed as the thickening burn of his erection makes itself known.
He wishes there could be some way to get out of this situation but this isn’t the usual Jihoon-patented bullshit and Woojin can’t cope. He needs some other distraction, he thinks as his shoulder hunch more and he tries to shield himself from view as well as possible. He can’t even yell at Jihoon and call him an idiot because sitting here in his room without losing his mind is enough of a struggle.
Jihoon finally stops laughing and doing body rolls and Woojin thinks he must have been quiet for too long. It is not as though he really could have said anything but he knows that his lack of response has made the atmosphere strange. Jihoon’s bare feet turn inwards and his toes curl a bit awkwardly before he crouches down in front of Woojin.
“Are you alright?” Jihoon asks.
Woojin nods his head rapidly and wonders what he can do to get Jihoon to shut up and leave him alone for long enough for Woojin to will away his erection. Jihoon has never been that kind of a friend though and he stares up into Woojin’s eyes as though he is searching for the evidence of thoughts where Woojin has collected all his thoughts about wanting to touch Jihoon.
“It’s not as bad as it looks, you know,” Jihoon says, still peering too deeply into Woojin’s eyes. “You should try one on too. It will be funny.”
Jihoon is certainly still searching for something and Woojin hates it.
Success at finding the conflation of Woojin’s desires to touch Jihoon all the time and Woojin’s similar yet more intense desire to hold Jihoon tightly right now would be the end of Woojin, this friendship and any hopes of a good future. They are friends, that is all. Woojin is simply curious and there is nothing strange about a bit of idle curiosity. Woojin would never actually touch Jihon in any of the ways he has thought about so it hardly matters. Jihoon can look all he wants and even if he finds something compelling it will pale in significance when Jihoon realises that he created the opportunity for Woojin’s curiosity to bloom and there is nothing to do but move on from it.
For a fraction of a second that outcome exists and Woojin can see his future ignoring this moment and the both of them laughing about something else after Jihoon returns from the bathroom once more in his own clothes. But he must reluctantly watch that existence tear away from him as Jihoon sighs and drops the weight of his hand on Woojin’s knee and he begins to heft himself up. The demise of Woojin’s future isn’t silent inside his chest as he resigns himself to a life of regret. The demise of Woojin’s future is accompanied by a weak moan which tickles its way through Woojin’s lips and makes Jihoon freeze in place.
It is stupid because in this moment Woojin can admit to himself that he likes guys, but only in the abstract sense. It isn’t a big deal and Woojin doesn't need to think about it, especially not when Jihoon is rubbing himself all over Woojin’s lap because he is more comfortable than a chair which was designed to be sat on, or when he is demanding piggybacks from Woojin and promising to return the favour even though they both know that he never will. The absolute worst time for Woojin to give life to those thoughts would be when his objectively hot best friend has squeezed himself into a tiny little swimming costume for the fun of it and is experimentally applying more pressure in his fingers as he pushes them slowly up Woojin’s thigh.
But Woojin is certainly thinking about it now and Jihoon is pressing more firmly as his hand slides further up Woojin’s thigh, the heat grazing against the insides of Woojin’s thighs which are much too sensitive through his jeans. Whether or not Woojin is thinking about things while he is shivering so easily isn’t the problem here so much as Jihoon stroking his thumb gently along the inner seam of Woojin’s jeans and coaxing out another of those awful groans which makes Woojin’s lips itch.
Woojin’s hands are screwed into fists on the tops of his legs but it isn’t enough of a warning for Jihoon who trails his hand far too close to Woojin’s crotch while his gaze is turned on Woojin’s face as though he is waiting for something. This feels like losing, Woojin thinks, as the weight of his breath doubles, the density forcing his lungs open with a coarse burn and dislodging his trembling heart from its usual residence inside his ribcage. Jihoon had always been a good friend to Woojin but it feels a lot like being on opposing sides when Jihoon takes great care to smooth his hand over the top part of Woojin’s thigh.
It is a strange thing for Woojin’s lungs to feel so achingly full while he can barely drag enough air into his chest and he can barely expel the air he used up. He is nervous and lightheaded and Jihoon’s voice is quietly tranquil as he asks, “Is this okay? Is my hand here okay?”
And Woojin doesn’t have a clue. This would be fine if it was nothing more than a dream, a half-repeated reverie of Jihoon touching him and touching him and touching him again and the next day Woojin could force it from the surface of his mind and try to act the same as usual. It isn’t going to be okay at all if this is as real as it feels and Jihoon is just going to keep touching him so that he has leverage to mock Woojin with later on.
Woojin can’t answer. Even if his chest didn’t ache it would be impossible for Woojin to answer. He stays as quiet as possible, still able to hear the hideously heavy staccato puffs of air buzzing past his lips.
“I guess not,” Jihoon eventually says. “I understand.”
What he understands, Woojin isn’t completely certain. Even if Jihoon claims to understand something he still presses down heavily with his hand on Woojin’s thigh and the tingle of his weight almost makes Woojin’s leg collapse weakly. Until Jihoon is standing up and something almost eye-level makes all the air inside Woojin’s chest whoosh out.
“Why are you hard?”
Jihoon flushes instantly and steps back as though that would do anything to obscure the guilt on his face. Despite the circumstances Woojin can appreciate how the redness saturates Jihoon’s face but only fades to blotches of rose over his chest and the tops of his arms.
With the air directly in front of Woojin clear the rapid shifting of Jihoon’s eyes becomes apparent and maybe Woojin isn’t so alone in his predicament. After appearing so calm just moments ago Jihoon is also breathing a bit funny and the set of his shoulders is stiff and he has an erection while wearing a little kids’ swimming costume. Not that any of that stops JIhoon from being Jihoon.
“So what if I’m hard? You got hard first from seeing me in this!” Jihoon accuses. “If anything this is all your fault because you couldn’t make a joke out of this and you got a stiffy instead, you creep!”
Woojin doesn’t stand as quickly as he likes and he thinks he only manages to slap his hand over Jihoon’s mouth when he reaches the end of the comprehendible part of his rant. But it isn’t so bad, because Jihoon’s eyes are wide with surprise and he has shut up even if he is still brilliantly pink.
“Jihoon, I only say this because I care but, shut the fuck up. What are you going to do if someone hears and comes to see up both like this?”
There thankfully isn’t anyone else in the house but if there was it wouldn’t be ideal to be discovered, both flustered and hard and certain people looking far more indecent than others. Woojin is speaking sense regardless of the actual situation and Jihoon relaxes a little bit, only, Woojin shouldn’t be so glad of that when they are standing so close together and there are several points of broiling heat where they are touching. Woojin needs to back away and send Jihoon back off to the bathroom so that he can delay this particular crisis for another few months. But when Woojin removes his hand and shuffles backwards, Jihoon’s hands are around his wrists.
“Is this okay? Is it okay now if we’re both like this?”
Jihoon’s hands cuff Woojin’s wrists with searing heat and even if Jihoon is still pink there is something akin to desperation condensing between them. This might just be enough that Jihoon wouldn’t make fun of Woojin. This might be enough to make it okay.
Woojin shakes off Jihoon’s grip and places his hands delicately at Jihoon’s waist. And then he isn’t really sure what to do from there. He doesn’t want to move his hands too much because he doesn’t know what he would do with them aside from ponder the odd friction of a material which is supposed to streamline movements through water. Against the flat of Woojin’s clammy palm the swimming costume is oddly abrasive.
It is a testament to what sort of person Jihoon is that he laughs at a time like this. His snort most definitely sprays spit at Woojin’s face and his fingers curl loosely around Woojin’s wrists once more.
“You didn’t even ask me to prom properly,” Jihoon guffaws.
Woojin considers the benefits of headbutting Jihoon to shut him up. He isn’t sure how hard he would have to do it to put them both out of their misery though. He would need a certain amount of force to at least concuss the past half hour out of their collective consciousness. Jihoon must be calculating the same thing, only he is moving much too quickly to do either of them any damage. Jihoon is about to administer the worst and least effective headbutt of all time.
Until Woojin realises Jihoon is trying to kiss him. It isn’t a good kiss, Woojin decides as he rubs at the spit that was just lathed onto the corner of his mouth by Jihoon’s tongue.
“What was that?” Woojin asks even though he is fairly sure it was a kiss.
“I kissed you,” Jihoon confirms.
“No you didn’t. You just licked me, Jihoon. That’s not a kiss at all!” Woojin says, matter of fact. “You’re way hotter than me, Jihoon. Statistically you should have kissed way more people than me and you should be a much better kisser than me. Except you’re not. That was awful. The fact that you called that a kiss has pretty much reduced my kissing ability too-”
“Shut up! I’m nervous!” Jihoon growls.
Oh. Well Woojin is nervous too. He says, “Sorry.”
Except Jihoon is evil and has no respect for the sanctity of apologies because he cups Woojin’s dick through his jeans and all but squeezes out a gasping sound which Woojin would be almost certain he didn’t make if Jihoon wasn’t rocking his hand gently against Woojin’s crotch.
Woojin just about manages not to come in his pants and decides that he has got to do something right now t prevent the inevitable ribbing from Jihoon about the sound he just made. He feels way too hot when he grabs at Jihoon’s wrist to make him stop but that isn’t all. Woojin knows what a good kiss is like, or what it should be, unlike Jihoon.
Even under the circumstances, Woojin is glad that he gets to show Jihoon what a good kiss is like and he can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he licks more and more amazingly breathy noises right out of Jihoon’s mouth. Jihoon’s breaths are almost whines and Woojin is only focused on that when he pulls Jihoon flush against his body right up until the point that he feels Jihoon’s erection pressing against his thigh.
An unfortunately loud part of Woojin’s brain is screaming at him rapturously, that’s Jihoon’s dick, you’ve got to commit this to memory before the chance is gone, this is Jihoon, you’re really getting to touch him like this . Woojin prefers the peace and quiet of Jihoon gasping contentedly into his mouth so to immerse himself more fully in that he pulls Jihoon backwards, considers the lifestyle changes involved in holding onto Jihoon like this and never letting him go, and collapses back onto his bed. Their teeth clack together and Woojin’s nose stings from the jolting impact of Jihoon’s cheek but this is still one of the better moments of Woojin’s life.
“Were you trying to break my nose?” Jihoon grumbles into Woojin’s cheek.
Woojin doesn’t even dignify Jihoon’s complaining with a response and instead he nips at Jihoon’s lower lip to coax him into another kiss. It works well enough to diffuse the irritation no doubt building behind the flare of pain in Jihoon’s nose and Woojin can relax into the soft exhales that drop into his mouth from Jihoon’s lips. There isn’t anything better than this aside from the possibility that this could lead to more.
Woojin feels a bit brave so he skirts his hands along Jihoon’s body, swooping with the curve of his back and his fingers don’t even stutter in their motion as he crosses a line. Woojin has never touched Jihoon here before, let alone like this with Jihoon pressing down on top of him, and his gaze slides just enough to see the way Jihoon shivers as Woojin’s fingernails pull at the elasticated hems on the leg holes. The elastic digs into the flesh of Jihoon’s ass and Woojin dragging his nail from polyester to smooth skin sets off more shudders. When the swimming costume can stretch no more and it slips from Woojin’s fingertip is snaps back to Jihoon’s skin and though Woojin can’t see it he can feel the squeeze of the elastic pushing the soft and warm excesses of Jihoon’s backside out of its constriction.
As Woojin’s fingers press and slide more, the scrape of his nails over the indentation that curves over the swell of Jihoon’s ass (has his skin pinkened from the irritation of scraping and rubbing or has the skin blanched from the continued pressure applied as Woojin tugs and pulls at the leg hole to see how far he can pull?) Jihoon’s breaths get heavier and heavier. The sound pulls at something within Woojin’s chest and it isn’t any easier to breathe through this when the soft groans that drip into his mouth become a tumble of groans which more than make up for the gaping of Jihoon’s mouth.
Until Jihoon grinds his hips down onto Woojin’s and it is Woojin groaning into Jihoon’s mouth, biting off the end of a hiss as Jihoon clutches at his chest and gasps shallowly, the cloying air puffing damply over Woojin’s lips. Jihoon’s grip is tight enough that the sharp of his nails gives Woojin enough focus to be able to worry about creases being crushed into his T-shirt by the way Jihoon is holding onto him. Even with Jihoon having to hold on so tightly to ground himself against the sensation he continues to rock his hips into Woojin’s, gasping and groaning louder with each roll of his body against Woojin’s.
Woojin realises that he was worried about the wrong thing earlier. Jihoon defensively yelling at Woojin wasn’t as much of a risk of attracting people as Jihoon moaning and pulling more sounds out of both of their chests as he rocks harder against Woojin’s dick. It would be much worse to be found like this, grasping at Jihoon’s ass and pressing ever closer as he writhes against him. The risk is negligible but Woojin thinks he should try to shut Jihoon up for the sake of the neighbours. Muting the moans with kisses doesn’t work quite as well as Woojin expects with the way Jihoon is shifting him hips, determined to get further than this but his voice cracking with frustration as the friction builds into nothingness.
“Jihoon,” Woojin says. His voice rasps and he is almost too focused on his wrecked his voice sounds from this to pay attention to Jihoon humming a reply as he ruts against Woojin with single-minded determination.
“Get off me a second.”
“No,” Jihoon sobs against Woojin’s cheek. “I’m almost-”
Jihoon doesn’t need to finish the thought, he doesn’t need to try and tell Woojin that he is almost there, not when Woojin wouldn’t believe it anyway.
“Hey,” Woojin says as softly as he can. Jihoon squirms against Woojin’s lap but more pathetically than before. He gazes hazily at Woojin and Woojin wonders whether it would be strange to swipe at the tears in the corners of Jihoon’s eyes. He decides against it . “I have an idea that might be better for you. I don’t want you to get too tired.”
“I’m not tired,” Jihoon huffs.
Woojin is certain that is a lie but he doesn’t pull Jihoon up on it. Instead Woojin tips Jihoon onto his side and rolls to face him. Jihoon huffs again but he doesn’t make a fuss when Woojin kisses him again. It is easier like this, there is slightly more control instead of Jihoon inelegantly drooling against his jaw. It isn’t just easier to kiss lying side by side. Woojin tentatively strokes his knuckles against the front of Jihoon’s swimming costume.
“You’re going to touch me properly, right?” Jihoon asks on the back of a juddering breath. Woojin already intended to but now he feels like he is making a point as he cups Jihoon’s cock through the minutely coarse smoothness of the polyester, the heat spreading between the cautious carpals of his hand as he presses his palm against the stiff heat that isn’t quite contained inside the swimming costume. Considering how matter of fact he was mere seconds ago, Jihoon’s shallow gasping has Woojin’s dick twitching in anticipation.
Woojin can honestly say this is the single greatest moment of his life. He traces the outline of Jihoon’s cock and is much less gentle than he has been up to this point as he squeezes a whimper right out of Jihoon’s chest.
The sound is gorgeous and Woojin wants to see more of what doing this looks like in Jihoon’s body. There is a certain fierceness in Jihoon’s gaze when his eyes flit open and the shine of his eyes is at odds with the flush of his cheeks and the cherry slick of his lips. For just a moment Woojin presses against the gleaming fullness of Jihoon’s lower lip. He shifts his thumb slightly and watches how easily malleable and soft it is. Jihoon sighs almost contentedly, the warmth of his exhale washing over Woojin’s thumb but the softness is at odds with the way Jihoon clings to him.
Woojin can’t believe how different Jihoon is like this and he almost doesn’t want to believe that this is his Jihoon, the Jihoon who takes jokes too far and never lets Woojin live anything down, and he wants to see more and more of this softly gasping Jihoon who is rocking into the curve of his hand.
“Is like this good?” Woojin asks. Jihoon laughs quietly against Woojin’s mouth.
“It’s good but. Ah, more would be better,” Jihoon replies.
There is no way Woojin could deny Jihoon more but even when he rubs at Jihoon through the strange elasticity of the swimming costume, Jihoon shifts even closer and ruts his hips harder against Woojin’s hand until he has trapped Woojin’s hand between them. Woojin hadn’t thought more would mean Jihoon would be roughly rocking against Woojin with little care for Woojin’s attempts to feel him even more. Jihoon hiccups sharply against Woojin’s mouth, his mouth opening wide enough for Woojin’s thumb to slip through his teeth.
The wet heat counterbalances the dull friction of Jihoon moving against Woojin’s hips, the ache of Woojin’s wrist trapped between them and impeding any real pleasure that could have him whimpering in the same way as Jihoon.
By the time Woojin manages to free his hand from between them, he manages to press himself closer to Jihoon with the same desperation he is being shown, Jihoon’s teeth have closed dully over the tip of Woojin’s thumb. The dull scrape of his teeth across the nail and the flat of Woojin’s thumb tugs at Woojin’s insides, the dry press of incisors shooting along his nerves and making Woojin’s balls tighten. It is almost too much - but it isn't quite enough and Woojin can completely understand the soft grunts of frustration at the back of Jihoon’s throat as the searing tip of his tongue presses against the hyponychium of Woojin’s thumb - and Woojin’s numb desperation for something more, just a little more, has him mouthing aimlessly against Jihoon’s jaw but he still isn’t getting everything from Jihoon that he needs.
It isn’t until Jihoon tips his head back, chill washing over Woojin’s thumb without the damp heat of Jihoon’s mouth, that Woojin even notices how things have changed. “If you’re on top of me isn’t it the same as before?”
It sort of is if Woojin considers the reason he rolled them onto their sides was because it wasn’t quite working. But it is also different like this, not that Woojin is even able to say that at this point. With Jihoon beneath him, Woojin can pretend neither of them notice the trembling of his hands as they pull at the shoulder straps of the swimming costume, the purplish tracks where they dug into Jihoon’s skin making Woojin’s stomach twist. Jihoon whimpers as Woojin drags his nails along the recesses. It must hurt but Jihoon doesn’t say anything, only watches Woojin and wets his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue.
Woojin slides his hands down further and rests them over the stilted rise and fall of Jihoon’s chest as he breathes. It is still difficult to believe that this is the Jihoon he has known for so long and he is getting to touch him like this. It is difficult to believe until Jihoon grips Woojin’s hips roughly and pulls him down.
“Can you, like, do something?” Jihoon grunts.
Woojin wants to ask what Jihoon wants specifically but Jihoon is already rocking against him and the question won’t make it out of his mouth without embarrassing him so he pushes Jihoon’s legs wider apart. The flesh of his thighs is soft and warm and Woojin wants to touch more of this plush softness just to feel it but Jihoon’s hips are stuttering already and the heat seeping through Woojin’s jeans has him gasping into Jihoon’s neck as he rolls his own hips down.
Woojin gets it already. He knows that he loves Jihoon in a not friend way and even if they don’t really match, their thoughts and feelings and the separate rhythms as they move against one another, Woojin has to make the most of this. He opens his mouth and still can’t muster up the coordination to kiss him properly and it probably doesn't even matter when Jihoon is the same way, fisting his hands tightly in the back of Woojin’s T-shirt and gasping against Woojin’s ear while his hips jolt.
Woojin curls his arm around Jihoon’s thigh to widen the space to settle between Jihoon’s legs and he moves his hips with as much purpose as he can. Jihoon’s voice thins through his gasps until the tension in his body freezes and spurts of heat seep even through Woojin’s jeans. If Woojin wasn’t already achingly aware of the feelings he has for Jihoon, seeing Jihoon’s face wrought with the same tension that makes his body curl in on itself beneath Woojin would have done the trick.
Jihoon really is beautiful and Woojin already knows that seeing his friend like this is only going to make it harder not to fixate on him when his mind isn’t occupied. By the time Jihoon stops coming, and he is embarrassedly tugging on the gusset of the swimming costume where it is constricting the wetness of his softening cock, he can’t look Woojin in the eyes. It’s a shame really but Woojin must suffice with pressing his face into Jihoon’s shoulder (to save them both the awkwardness) as he shoves his hand past the waistband of his jeans and into his pants to pump his cock a few times until he is letting out staccato groans against the soft warmth of Jihoon’s bare shoulder.
It isn’t the best orgasm Woojin has ever had, not with the mounting consternation that this is weird and Jihoon might have only gone along with it this time for Woojin’s sake, but when his chest is heaving and he really can’t make his body move off Jihoon, he is at least glad that for a few moments longer Jihoon can tolerate him. Jihoon’s fingers lazily stroke through the hair at the crown of Woojin’s head. Maybe later Woojin won’t feel to awkward about giving Jihoon that chocolate.