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Let it be known that, if Kim Dokja could help it, any major decision that he made would be carried out with some sort of plan in mind. 


“Kim Dokja,” 


His relationship with Yoo Jonghyuk… wasn’t that. 


A muscular thigh slots between his own, and his dark grey button-down is brusquely rucked up over his ribcage. The air that hits his newly exposed skin is cool, but Kim Dokja feels anything but. 


“You’re too thin,” A heavy hand drags down the pale strip of his side. 


...What does that have to do with anything? 


“Kim Dokja,”


Kim Dokja’s hips push up against the form above him, jerking and rolling without any sort of input from him. He honestly feels like he’s going a bit crazy. 


“Hold still,” Yoo Jonghyuk hisses, grabbing hold of Kim Dokja’s hip and pressing him down into the mattress.


Whatever restless creature that seems to have crawled under his skin within the last minute immediately skitters south, and Kim Dokja’s thighs clamp around Yoo Jonghyuk’s and squeeze in pulsation. 


Hold still, he says, as if it’s his fault. And what, would Yoo Jonghyuk prefer him to just lie there? 


“Your pillow talk could really use some work, you know.” Kim Dokja sighs, his head lolling back onto the pillow. “I don’t think I’m into that kind of play, so if you would stop being such a brat—


“Kim Dokja, be quiet.”


Jerk, now Kim Dokja wants to kiss him. His eyes slide back over to Yoo Jonghyuk’s face, immaculate as ever, and his lower half finally stills as his hands come up. 


Yoo Jonghyuk lets out a satisfied huff at the lull, then blinks when Kim Dokja’s hands cup his face, long fingers sliding into the depth of his hair at the temples. 


Kim Dokja finds himself rather taken with the sight of Yoo Jonghyuk’s face in his hands like this, and simply looks at him for a long while. In response to the ensuing stillness, Yoo Jonghyuk’s whole person gradually relaxes—broad shoulders slumping, eyelids slipping closed, body growing heavy atop him. 


Kim Dokja watches Yoo Jonghyuk reach this state of calm with an indulgent expression, then abruptly squishes the man’s cheeks together. 


Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes fly open, eyebrows drawn furiously, which really only serves to make his appearance all the more comical and absurd. 


Kim Dokja…” is Yoo Jonghyuk’s muffled growl. 


Very cute, Kim Dokja grins, then finally brings their lips together, maddeningly earnest despite his teasing. 


And, well, Kim Dokja’s still not really any good at it—kissing—but he certainly likes it a great deal. 


Even better, Kim Dokja’s eyes briefly slip open to catch the way Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyelashes jump and flutter in an intense sort of concentration, he thinks Yoo Jonghyuk might too. 


“Uhm...” Kim Dokja says intelligently when they finally manage to pull themselves apart, seconds or hours later. “Ah, right.”


He puts a hand on Yoo Jonghyuk’s chest (nice) to gently push him back, then leans over to retrieve the recently purchased bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. 


He places the case in Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand before hurriedly taking off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants, pulling both them and his underwear down to his ankles before kicking the articles off onto the floor. Yoo Jonghyuk wordlessly gives room by shifting to hover beside him.


Kim Dokja reasons with himself that if he moves fast enough his brain won’t have enough time to catch up with the fact that he’s currently getting completely undressed in front of his boyfriend for the first time.


The snap of the bottle cap opening, then, “...It’s open?” Yoo Jonghyuk asks at length. 


“I did some research,” is Kim Dokja's non-answer as he lies back down, calm as anything.


Yoo Jonghyuk just stares at him. The bastard.


“...Meaning, I’ve done it to myself a couple times, to get used to it.  But, well—” Kim Dokja trails off as he glances down at the not insignificant bulge in Yoo Jonghyuk’s pants, then hurriedly looks off to the side, swallowing. “I’m...It’s not quite there yet.”


“Okay,” Yoo Jonghyuk says, quiet, almost gently, and Kim Dokja really, really wants to look at what kind of face he’s making right now, so he doesn’t. 


It had been… different, to touch himself in such a way, the first time he had tried it. Kim Dokja’s never had much of a libido—for a variety of reasons—but it had felt like a viable way to take some control of the situation. However unplanned as it initially may have been, he really was quite serious about being in a relationship with Yoo Jonghyuk, and all that it may entail. 


He’d try it out by himself with his fingers a few times, just to get a feel for it, then when he felt confident enough, he’d offer to touch Yoo Jonghyuk there too. Depending on the other man’s response, his modus operandi would branch off from there. 


Yoo Jonghyuk had only ever been with a woman before, and if there was a tacit way to determine if someone was interested in being on the receiving end or not, Kim Dokja didn’t know it.


Besides, if he was being truthful, he’d have Yoo Jonghyuk in any way he could get him. Just kissing like they had been would probably even be enough, so how flexible Yoo Jonghyuk may or not be in such matters really wasn’t much of a cause for concern for him. 


...That aside, Kim Dokja was horny right now


“So,” Kim Dokja begins, bringing his bare legs up and pressing them together. He nods to the bottle of lube still in Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand. “We can...use my thighs?”


“Use your…” Yoo Jonghyuk begins, looking down at the space where Kim Dokja’s thighs meet before his gaze jolts back up in an uncharacteristically skittish manner. The reaction is enough to make Kim Dokja’s mouth go dry. 


“And that’s what you want?” Yoo Jonghyuk asks, seeking reaffirmation. 


Ah, seriously, why did he have to be so…


Kim Dokja wets his lips, makes eye contact with Yoo Jonghyuk, then nods once, slowly. 


Yoo Jonghyuk stares at him for a beat longer, then reaches out to grab Kim Dokja from underneath the knees, bringing him up with a single hand not unlike how one would grasp a rabbit by the ears.


Yoo Jonghyuk, you crazy bastard,” Kim Dokja all but yelps. This guy, Kim Dokja would bet every last coin he had that he was never this rough with Lee Seolhwa—


...No, wait a moment. He didn’t particularly want Yoo Jonghyuk to treat him as he would Lee Seolhwa either. 


Around his legs, he catches the slight tug on Yoo Jonghyuk’s lips before they smooth out into something carefully neutral again, but the quick glimpse was enough to extinguish any outrage Kim Dokja felt from the crass treatment. 


You’re... really happy with me? Kim Dokja wonders a bit dazedly, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. 


Despite the initial manhandling, Yoo Jonghyuk is careful when he guides Kim Dokja over so that he’s propped up against Yoo Jonghyuk’s lap. After a moment of thought, Yoo Jonghyuk raises Kim Dokja’s legs so that his ankles are thrown over his shoulders, properly elevating him while still allowing for his thighs to press close together. 


“Okay?” Yoo Jonghyuk asks. 


And alright, nevermind. Something about the way Yoo Jonghyuk asked that just now finally gave Kim Dokja’s brain the time to catch up with the reality that he was about to have intercrural sex with goddamn Yoo Jonghyuk. 


Kim Dokja is (was) twenty-eight years old, and such a complete virgin that he’s never even held someone’s hand before with true romantic intent.


...Actually, it seemed that there was a rather immediate fix to that? 


Curiously, Kim Dokja sneaks a hand out and paws at Yoo Jonghyuk’s recently freed one. Yoo Jonghyuk blinks, looks down, then...grasps Kim Dokja’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers.


It’s warm.


Success, Kim Dokja thinks, a touch hysterical.


“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk calls his name for what has to be the thousandth time that evening. “Okay?” 


“...Okay,” Kim Dokja replies, relinquishing his hold on Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand so that the other man had both hands free to finally apply the lube.


And it seems that Kim Dokja had vastly underestimated how embarrassing said application would be. 


Yoo Jonghyuk, the sadist, takes his sweet time and what has to be the remaining contents of the bottle to coat the under and inside of Kim Dokja’s thighs with lubricant, giving Kim Dokja’s dick a few teasing strokes intermittently as well. It’s honestly a bit excessive. 


“...You jerk, you’re cleaning this all up afterwards,” Kim Dokja tells him.


Yoo Jonghyuk hums, noncommittal, then finally moves to wipe some of the excess lube off his hands and onto his pants before unfastening them. He pulls himself out of his boxers, hands still somewhat damp, then starts to pump his dick in a frustratingly composed manner. 


Kim Dokja takes a quick peek, then promptly throws his head back with a gust of a sigh. 


Goddamn it—he was going to have to start adding another finger.


“What are you sighing for,” Yoo Jonghyuk says in his usual domineering tone, but his eyes gleam with something horrifyingly close to playful, a touch knowing. 


Stupid, stupid, sexy Yoo Jonghyuk. 


Kim Dokja takes the opportunity to knock a heel against Yoo Jonghyuk’s back shoulder. Get on with it. 


Grunting, Yoo Jonghyuk leans forward, folding Kim Dokja inwards on himself, then pushes his cock past the slick, makeshift entrance of Kim Dokja’s thighs. The initial push is a bit strange, but then Yoo Jonghyuk emerges on the other side to slide along the underside of Kim Dokja’s length. 


It was only a single pass, but the view from Kim Dokja’s perspective is...unbelievable, and it felt—


“That’s—good,” Kim Dokja gasps, somewhat strangled. 


“Hn,” is the only warning he gets from Yoo Jonghyuk before he pulls back, and even the withdrawal motion is a bizarre sort of pleasurable.


Yoo Jonghyuk slides through Kim Dokja’s thighs again, slips back, then gradually builds up the pace as they fall into frantic, repetitive rhythm.


An analytical part of Kim Dokja’s brain that he can’t seem to shut off even during times like this notes that this was a remarkably smooth first time, all things considered. He even starts to feel a bit fortunate. 


It was all going wonderfully, until it wasn’t. 


Kim Dokja’s barely holding on, but he can tell Yoo Jonghyuk’s close too, as his movements have grown progressively haphazard, which was really the only tell Kim Dokja needed when dealing with a man this much of a perfectionist. 


Feeling his legs slipping from Yoo Jonghyuk’s shoulders, Kim Dokja attempts to straighten himself, but the movement only serves to disrupt the rhythm, and Yoo Jonghyuk’s next thrust is…knocked awry. 


“Yoo Jonghyuk—” Kim Dokja shouts, but not at all with the intention one usually calls out their partner’s name in alike circumstances. 


He calls out because...well, Yoo Jonghyuk just entered the wrong hole. 


The only hole, really, but the wrong one nonetheless.


And honestly, Kim Dokja must have been more thorough in stretching himself in the past few nights than he had previously realized, because Yoo Jonghyuk gets perhaps an inch inside before meeting any real resistance.


But still. It hurts. Like Hell. 


[The Fourth Wall is shaking!]




As though echoing Kim Dokja’s thoughts, Yoo Jonghyuk makes a confused, choked sort of noise that Kim Dokja is unfortunately in no place to tease him for, and immediately moves to pull out.


Having separated, Kim Dokja proceeds to make modern art of himself by kicking and flailing wildly, and all but flings himself out of bed, standing naked in the middle of the bedroom.


[The Fourth Wall is issuing a warning!]


N-No, hold on a minute…


“Kim Dokja…?”


The room is honest to god spinning, and then—


“Dokja, come here,” Yoo Jonghyuk’s voice calls out to him, softer than Kim Dokja’s ever heard it before—at least while addressing himself.


What’s more, it was the first time Yoo Jonghyuk had ever called Kim Dokja by his given name, and combined with the tone and phrasing, it’s absolutely the wrong thing to say to him right then. 


[The Fourth Wall is strongly activated!]




Before he goes under, Kim Dokja is distantly aware of his legs giving out from under him, his head striking against the metal bed frame, ricocheting off into the wall, and then his body hitting the floor. 


[Kim Dok ja is an i diot.]


For once, Kim Dokja feels inclined to agree. 



When he comes to, Kim Dokja seems to have been moved back to the bed. He grimaces—the sheets are still wet, and there’s a terrible weight on his chest. 


“Useless sunfish,” Kim Dokja grouses. 


The words seem to serve as a magic incantation of sorts, because the weight on his chest is lifted at once, and—


Oh. The weight was Yoo Jonghyuk.


...What was Yoo Jonghyuk doing with his head buried into Kim Dokja’s naked chest? 


“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk rasps, face startling pale and eyes hard and glassy. 


Something dawns on Kim Dokja at that moment, seeing that face. 


“...Yoo Jonghyuk, you thought—”


“You weren’t breathing,”


Do not laugh, Kim Dokja tells himself. It is absolutely not funny. Kim Dokja, do not laugh. 


“Kim Dokja,” 


Shit, were his shoulders shaking? Really, he didn’t think it was very funny. Believe him.


“There, there, Jonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja’s voice sounds high and quavering to his own ears. 


“Kim Dokja,”


“It’s completely reasonable for you to have thought that you—that your dick— His voice breaks on the word ‘dick’ and the rest of his sentence dissolves into horrible, tittering wheezes. 


“I’m leaving you.”


Kim Dokja laughs so hard that he thinks he just might black out again.