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Yu Junghyeok sits back in the chair as if it’s a throne. It’s rather fitting, with everything Dokja knows about him - his stubborn cockiness, his absolute belief in his mission, that damnable confidence. He spreads his legs a little as he lounges back, one fist upraised, cheek pressed to his knuckles. His hair curls into his eyes, partially obscuring his heavy, judgy eyebrows.
He’s lovely, and Dokja’s knees tremble as he kneels before him. He puts one hand on Junghyeok’s knee, bracing for a kick or a sharp word. But Junghyeok remains still. The only part of him that changes is the movement of his chest, as he draws in what might be a slightly more hurried breath.
Dokja looks up his fully clothed body, meets his molten gaze. Junghyeok takes him in, eyes unhurriedly seeking out every part of him. The tension in his eyebrows relaxes and he sighs.
Dokja licks his lips, drawing Junghyeok’s hawk-like gaze to his mouth, and it feels like talons sliding down his spine, choosing not to rip his bones from beneath his tender skin.
This is probably not the smartest thing he’s ever done.
He places both hands on the inside of Junghyeok’s knees, and moves them up and in, along his pants. Junghyeok’s thighs flex, and the power in them makes Dokja tremble. Junghyeok opens his legs further. His booted foot rests heavy on Dokja’s knee. Dokja finds it hard to calm his breathing, but he forces it slow and steady through his nose. He presses his hands to either side of Junghyeok’s crotch. The fabric pulls taut, highlighting a sizable bulge. He leans in, hands framing Junghyeok, pale skin against black fabric.
He glances up, and up, across all that black, and meets Junghyeok’s bright eyes. Junghyeok’s mouth is slightly open, the glint of teeth just behind his lips.
Dokja leans in, presses his face into Junghyeok’s crotch, and sucks in a breath. His eyes flutter closed. Junghyeok’s scent is strong. He smells bright, inviting, musky in all the right ways. There used to be a hint of soap, fresh and clean - Junghyeok is very meticulous - but they’ve been on the move for so long now. It smells like Junghyeok, delicious and inviting.
Junghyeok makes a noise. It takes a moment for Dokja to understand that it is a pleased sound, low in the back of his throat. He looks up, resting his cheek against Junghyeok’s crotch. He should probably be sickened by what Junghyeok is seeing in his own expression - he doesn’t know how unguarded his feelings are, in this strangely vulnerable moment between them.
He grins, and lets out a breathy laugh, then shuts his eyes and nuzzles against Junghyeok again. He immerses himself in this scent, in the sensation of warmth invading his skin, and his lips where they graze against Junghyeok.
Junghyeok presses his boot harder on Dokja’s knee, and Dokja draws slightly away. He sucks in clean air for a moment, dizzy with his own desire - dangerous, and unworthy, besmirching Junghyeok with every touch he takes solely for himself.
Junghyeok thrusts his hips, moving his crotch against Dokja’s chin, as if to say, Get on with it.
Emboldened, Dokja reaches for Junghyeok’s belts. He fumbles with them, uncertain of the mechanism, and finally gets the first one loose. The second one, securing his empty sword belt, is a challenge. Finally, Junghyeok takes pity on him, swatting his hands aside and making every motion without excess, slithering the leather against the clinking metal until it gaps, exposing the button of his fly.
Dokja undoes it, then slowly untucks Junghyeok’s black shirt. The glimpses of his stomach are distracting, and Dokja has to force himself to focus, even as his knuckles graze that warm, inviting skin. He has not earned that touch, and they both know it.
The zipper seems loud in the silence between them. Dokja’s fingers are trembling as he gaps the pants, exposing tight underwear that clings to his body. Junghyeok lifts his hips, boot digging into Dokja’s leg, and Dokja slides the pants down his slender, lovely hips, and looks at Junghyeok’s clothed cock.
It looks big, cradled by the underwear, but he can see the shape of it, can estimate the girth. He breathes hard and fast.
“Having regrets?” Junghyeok is watching him, eyes flooded with something akin to eagerness.
“Never,” Dokja says, and smirks, and hopes Junghyeok can’t see the lie in his false confidence.
It’s not that he’s scared of this - rather, he’s scared of how much he wants it. His own dick is rock hard and pulsing in his own pants, and if Junghyeok were to shift a few inches with his foot…
Dokja looks up at Junghyeok and grasps the waistband of his underwear, and gives it a tug.
Junghyeok sighs as his cock springs free, and Dokja cannot look away. It’s long and thick, slightly curved to one side. He’s uncut - Dokja doesn’t know how he’s lived his whole life without this knowledge - the foreskin hugging the edges of his head.
Junghyeok reaches down and adjusts the waistband of his underwear, tucking it neatly beneath his balls. Then he sits back, and taps his foot twice on Dokja’s thigh.
Dokja looks away from that impressive dick, eyes darting up for a brief moment - but he can’t meet Junghyeok’s gaze, can’t let him see the longing, or the other, far more embarrassing, emotions playing across his face.
He focuses back on the cock in front of him. The slit holds just the faintest bit of moisture, and Dokja swallows the saliva that floods his mouth at the dawning realization - Junghyeok is hard for him. Junghyeok wants this, welcomes it, is already leaking for Dokja who has barely even touched him.
Another tap on his leg, a bit more insistent, and Dokja recalls that he’s supposed to be doing something, rather than staring like a dopey virgin. His fingers gently touch the base, tips getting lost in the curly thatch of hair sprouting just above his dick, thick and wiry.
His thumb circles the underside of Junghyeok’s cock, feeling the soft, soft skin of his balls. His dick is delicate and velvet beneath his fingers, and Dokja doesn’t understand how he can possibly be allowed to do this.
He leans forward, panting a bit, and slides the tip of his tongue against the slit. Delightful salty sweetness explodes across his taste buds.
Junghyeok hisses through his nose, and his thighs tense.
Dokja doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes to savor the taste of Junghyeok’s precome until there’s a sharp tap at his leg.
“Kim Dokja,” Junghyeok growls, and it’s warning, and permission, anger and need and impatience.
Dokja opens his mouth, slips his tongue out, and runs it up the long underside of his cock. It is warm and soft on his tongue, foreskin sliding up and over the head as he tugs it along. He’d seen things like this in porn, on occasion, but he’d never been able to adequately feel what the giver was experiencing when they did this. He feels as if he’s being torn apart, one strand at a time, by some crueler master than fate. It has nothing to do with his own arousal, this feeling - but everything to do with Junghyeok, and how he’s always felt about him. He licks, wet and thick and hot, around the tip, savoring the way the tender flesh seems to tremble at his movements. Junghyeok growls, a glorious sound, and his foot slips a bit further up Dokja’s leg. The edge of his boot heel presses into Dokja’s thigh, grinding as Dokja gains a little confidence in his floundering movements.
He pulls down on Junghyeok’s foreskin with his hand, exposing the head with its soft curved edge. Dokja closes his mouth around the head and sucks.
Junghyeok makes another noise, low and angry, and Dokja understands. He flicks his eyes up. Junghyeok is glaring at him, but his eyes are not saying, I’m going to kill you.
And that is all the confirmation Dokja needs that he’s doing something right. He sucks again, running his tongue along under the head, until he finds that spot where all the nerves seem to meet. He tongues at Junghyeok’s frenulum, recalling what it feels like to touch his own, and imagining that Junghyeok is enjoying it, if the heavy breathing from above is any indication.
He pulls off with a vulgar pop, catching his breath and resting his cheek against Junghyeok’s dick. He stares up.
Junghyeok’s eyes are narrowed to slits, his eyebrows no longer angry. They look distraught, as if he’s been sucker punched - Dokja remembers this exact same expression on his face during the King’s Qualification.
It almost seems that Junghyeok isn’t looking at him at all.
Dokja waits until he refocuses, waits until he taps his heel into Dokja’s leg, the fleshy part of his inner thigh.
Then Dokja leans in and starts to take his glorious cock deeper. It glides along his flattened tongue, tasting salty and sweet and perfect. Junghyeok hums in what Dokja thinks is satisfaction, and his dick pulses once in his mouth. Dokja breathes long and hard, and finds a slow, clumsy rhythm. He would be embarrassed at the sloppy, inexperienced way he sucks Junghyeok off, if not for the clipped moans and soft exhalations coming from above.
A hand lands soft on his head, rough fingertips surprisingly gentle as they caress slowly into his hair, rubbing his scalp in a soothing, almost… supportive way. Junghyeok’s fingers run with the grain of his hair and then against it, lightly fluffing his hair.
He hums, muffled against the cock. Junghyeok hums too, his voice deeper and heavier than Dokja’s.
When Junghyeok’s hips lift to meet him, Dokja knows he’s close. He tastes the sweet twitch of the cock on his tongue. He tries to take a bit more in, renewing the pressure and the movement of his tongue. But it’s too big, too unwieldy. He starts to cough, fighting against his body’s inclination to clear his airway.
He starts to pull off, ready to change his angle, to try something else.
Junghyeok doesn’t give him the chance. The hand in his hair goes from gentle to hard in an instant, gripping a thick hank of hair. Dokja claws futilely at Junghyeok’s leg.
Junghyeok’s boot grinds on his thigh, sliding along his pants, and then rests deliberately on Dokja’s own cock. He tries to cry out, gets part of a moan and a half-choked breath of air.
And then Junghyeok’s cock is throbbing past the paltry resistance of his tongue, pulsing red hot, every ridge and vein rubbing against him.
Junghyeok guides him down, scalp pinching, throat aching, lungs burning. His grip is absolute, dominant, overwhelming.
His foot grinds against Dokja so hard he sees stars painted on the insides of his eyelids, glittering in the tears collected on his eyelashes. If he could, he would cry Junghyeok’s name, so maybe it’s a good thing his mouth is compromised.
Junghyeok comes down his throat, thick and all-encompassing. He comes with a groan that Dokja will never forget for the rest of his life, and if he dies here, out of breath like this… buried in the delicious scent and taste…
Junghyeok pulls him off and Dokja surfaces. The air tastes sweet, sweeter than anything he’s had before, except maybe the dribble of come left on his tongue. Junghyeok’s big thumbs stroke his cheek, coming away wet.
His foot is still resting on Dokja’s groin, and Dokja shifts against it, hating himself for the dirty desire that makes his hips rut up against the awful weight for a long moment.
Dokja is about to sit back, move away, still coughing a little, when Junghyeok captures his chin.
“Now you,” he growls, still breathing hard. There’s the ghost of a feral smile at the edges of his mouth, like a wolf looking upon an easy kill.
Dokja holds his hands up, his heart racing at the sudden intensity blazing in Junghyeok’s eyes. “No, that’s fine, I don’t nee— ah!”
Junghyeok’s heel grinds in, and his fingers on his chin tighten, and Dokja is pinned like a specimen, like a butterfly to a board, splayed open to Junghyeok’s too-knowing gaze.
Junghyeok seems to know exactly how to press his foot to make Dokja’s dick throb . He grabs Junghyeok’s wrist, gasping as Junghyeok turns his foot and glides the tread along Dokja’s painful erection.
Tears return to Dokja’s eyes, and he bites his tongue so hard he tastes copper to keep from begging. He’s not sure if he will beg him to stop, or keep going, and either option is like claws in his body.
[The Fourth Wall is trembling]
Dokja whimpers. Junghyeok moves both feet, this time kicking Dokja’s left leg even wider. Dokja steadies himself on Junghyeok’s knees, but Junghyeok’s grip on his jaw is strong - he wouldn’t have let him fall.
Junghyeok’s other hand moves lower. He captures Dokja’s throat and pulls him closer, dragging him up onto his knees and into that boot, flaying him alive.
Dokja moans, a horrid, wretched noise, and keeps his eyes squeezed tight.
“Look at me,” Junghyeok demands.
Dokja does, in immediate compliance. He looks at Junghyeok, who looks so smug, so composed, even as he’s doing this to Dokja. He devours the expression on Dokja’s face, looking everywhere as if capturing every detail, and his attention stings.
It takes just one more grind, coordinated with a careful, calculated squeeze of fingers against his throat, and Dokja comes right in his pants. White light sears his vision, his body floating on the sensation. Junghyeok works him through it, boot grinding up and down, fingers gentling on his neck, letting his head finally fall to Junghyeok’s knee.
Dokja breathes raggedly, almost sobbing, his whole body shaking, clinging to Junghyeok’s pant leg. He’s furious with Junghyeok for forcing his hand like this, and embarrassed by the squishy come clinging to his own underwear.
Junghyeok cleans himself off and tucks himself away, then settles a hand on Dokja’s hair. Dokja tries to get up, even though his legs are like jelly and surely won’t support him, but Junghyeok says, “Wait.”
So he does, letting his breaths even out. Junghyeok pets his hair. Dokja would protest the pitying caress, if only he didn’t feel so good.
Finally, just as his breath returns to normal, as his eyelids start to grow heavy, Junghyeok taps his shoulder.
He looks up, not even worried about the blissed-out, dazed expression he must be wearing.
Junghyeok is decidedly not frowning. He pulls Dokja up by an elbow, then stands himself. They linger close, for a moment. Dokja savors the salty-sweet taste, the much taller man’s shadow, the way Junghyeok’s hand lingers at his side, as if making sure Dokja is steady on his feet.
Then Junghyeok gives him a gentle shove. “Go get cleaned up,” he says. “We’ve got a Scenario to complete.”