Ji-Hoon couldn't sleep.
Not with Min-Jae breathing so close. Not with his own body burning.
He turned his head. Min-Jae's eyes were already open, staring back.
"Tell me to stop," Min-Jae whispered.
Ji-Hoon didn't.
Their lips met—shy at first, like they were stealing something forbidden. Then deeper. Hungrier. Fingers tangled in hair. Mouths opened, tongues collided.
Ji-Hoon gasped as Min-Jae's hands found his skin—his waist, his hips, lower. The sheet slipped to the floor. Their bodies pressed tight, heat rising.
Min-Jae moaned softly as Ji-Hoon straddled him, kissing down his neck, chest, stomach. He trembled under every touch.
"You always did this to me," Ji-Hoon murmured. "Without knowing it."
Min-Jae flipped him over, dominant now, kissing with purpose, touching with need. They pulled each other apart—clothes gone, breath ragged.
Then, mouth to body.
Min-Jae took him in—slowly, completely. Ji-Hoon cried out, hands gripping the sheets, chest rising with every moan.
"Min-Jae—fuck—don't stop…"
The tension climbed, pulse throbbed, skin slick with sweat.
They didn't hold back. They didn't rush. They gave in, wild and breathless.
When release came, it wasn't just pleasure—it was surrender.