imaginary sleepovers (oneshot)
Title: Imaginary Sleepovers
Pairing: Gwangchul/Injoon
Genre: pwp
Word Count: 2622
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sexual content
Summary: Injoon calls Gwangchul every single night.
Notes: It's kiparang's fault.
At two forty-five in the morning, Injoon unlocks and opens his front door as quietly as he can and tiptoes across the foyer until he’s safe in the living room. The hall that leads to the bedrooms is now far enough away that he can flop onto the couch with a loud, content sigh. His backpack lands somewhere to the side and he couldn’t care less. After a few minutes of lying there, he almost falls asleep, so he forces himself into a sitting position and digs out his cell phone from his back pocket. Hitting the speed dial, he says a quick prayer that he isn’t too late this time.
A muffled groan confirms his fear. “Shit! Did I wake you?”
“Nope.” The response is automatic and dripping with familiar sarcasm. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Gwangchul’s long, echoing yawn worsens Injoon’s guilt.
“Sorry,” he mumbles into the phone. “Practice went late tonight.” For a good three minutes there is no response and Injoon’s on the brink of tears. “C’mon, I said I was sorry!” He gets a strange, surprised snorting sound in response followed by confused silence. “Did you fall back asleep?”
“No,” Gwangchul yawns after another pause, but he immediately bursts out laughing a second later and Injoon can’t help but laugh, too, covering his mouth with his hand. “So, how was practice?” Gwangchul asks, his voice muffled. Injoon can picture it perfectly- Gwangchul lying face-down with his head turned on the pillow only enough to allow the phone to balance on his ear.
Injoon stretches his tired limbs and groans. “The usual.”
“Mm, sounds like fun,” he replies. He seems to start to say something, but is cut off by another yawn. “Hey,” he says. “You won’t believe the dream I was having when you called.”
The tone is heavy, Gwangchul’s voice low, and the suggestiveness of the statement makes Injoon’s face color. “You’re right, so don’t share it.”
There’s shuffling as Injoon assumes Gwangchul is rolling over. “You’re no fun,” he says with amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with talking about sex dreams.” Injoon bites his lip and doesn’t respond. “Oh, like you don’t have them?” Gwangchul asks, and Injoon can see that roll of the eyes.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I go telling everyone about them.”
“Don’t tell everyone. Tell me.”
Injoon’s breath catches in a strange hacking cough, which makes Gwangchul roll with laughter on the line. “No,” he finally says, trying so hard to be firm, but his voice is weak after his fit. A sigh, and for a moment Injoon thinks he’s won, but Gwangchul cuts him off as he goes to change the subject.
“When’s the last time you jacked off, anyway?”
Another coughing fit followed by more of Gwangchul laughter in Injoon’s ear. Injoon’s face is flushed, though from the coughing or the embarrassment, he’s not sure. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he whines. His exhaustion is starting to weigh on him. His arms feel like dead-weights. Bed sounds like a good idea, but he honestly doesn’t think he has the energy to drag himself across the house. Besides, he hasn’t gone to sleep without talking to Gwangchul for at least one full hour in months.
“Not my fault you called when you did,” Gwangchul mutters and Injoon can hear the sleep still in his voice. “I’m so fucking hard right now.” His low groan makes Injoon’s stomach flip and his face heat up.
“Shut up,” is all Injoon can manage to whisper, his mouth suddenly dry.
“But Injoon,” he groans again, this time needier and his breathing is shallow, or maybe it’s just Injoon’s imagination. Injoon closes his eyes and looks away as if that might help, but the images that flash across the backs of his eyelids make him yelp. “Hey,” Gwangchul says again, but now his voice is even and calm. “You never answered my question.” When Injoon doesn’t answer right away, Gwangchul yawns and stretches. “When’s the last time you, y’know, jacked off?”
“I don’t!” His blush has spread across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears.
"Bullshit."
"Really, I-" he half-chokes out, one hand balled in a fist at his side out of frustration. "Well, okay, maybe a few times in the shower, but-" He's cut off by a loud, unrestrained yawn. "Quit yawning in my ear," Injoon grumbles, but gets only a tired laugh in response.
"You're a bad liar," Gwangchul breathes. "I bet you're the kind of guy who's only jacked off like three times in his whole life."
Injoon doesn't say anything because it's true. He chews on his lip and wishes he could just hang up. Unfortunately, Gwangchul is the type of person to pick up the conversation the next night exactly where they left off.
"I could help you out."
A groan escapes Injoon's mouth before he can stop it. He sinks deeper into the couch and covers his face with his hand. Why, of all people, is he having this conversation with Gwangchul? And yet, somehow it makes perfect sense, which only worsens Injoon's unease. "Just shut up, please."
"I don't want to," Gwangchul says with an obvious pout in his voice. "What are you wearing?"
"Jeans and a sweatshirt," he replies automatically, choosing to humor his friend and hoping like hell Gwangchul gets bored soon. "Oh, and socks. I just came back from practice, remember?"
"How sexy," Gwangchul sneers. "How about under the sweatshirt?"
"A t-shirt."
"Boxers or briefs?"
Injoon throws his hands up and it takes everything to keep from screaming. "Shut up!" he hisses and curls up into a ball faces the inside of the couch. The fabric of cushions feels cool on his overheated face.
"I'll take that as neither." Injoon suppresses another outburst. "I never thought you the kind to go commando." Gwangchul's voice is utterly amused.
"I fucking hate you," Injoon curses quietly.
"No, you don't," Gwangchul corrects, his tone the perfect imitation of a patient teacher dealing with a slow, easily confused student. "Since you're not asking, want to know what I'm wearing?" Injoon bites his lip and stays silent. He prays to whatever higher power may exist that Gwangchul get distracted, but even he doubts that such is possible at this point. Gwangchul's having too much fun. "Fine, I'll just tell you. I'm naked."
"Why the fuck are you naked?" Injoon's voice comes out high-pitched and strained. Images flash before his eyes of things he's only seen accidentally, but when he closes his eyes they only become more and more vivid.
"Too hot to sleep with clothes on," he whines and Injoon can hear him moving around. On the backs of his eyelids, Injoon can picture Gwangchul lying naked on his bed a little too easily. The image makes his stomach tighten nervously and sweat bead on the back of his neck. The heat in his face seems to be engulfing his entire body. "Why," Gwangchuls asks. "Does it turn you on?"
"N-no," Injoon says feebly. On the other end, Gwangchul bursts out laughing again.
"You're way too easy," he sighs when he finally regains control. Meanwhile, Injoon has sunk even further into the couch, his face smashed against the cushion. Even if he did reply, he doubts Gwangchul would be able to understand him. "Aw, come on," he coaches, but Injoon remains silent. "Relax. I'm sure you're tired and hot after practicing so long. Take off your sweatshirt."
Though he knows this is a trap, the statement contains too much logic to ignore. "Fine," Injoon says as he pulls out of his fetal position. After all, it is really warm in the dorm."There."
"You took it off?" Gwangchul asks, sounding slightly surprised.
"Yeah." Truthfully, Injoon does feel more comfortable now. He probably would have taken it off eventually with or without Gwangchul asking him to.
"Good. Now how about your pants?"
"Fuck off," Injoon says quickly, stretching and lying back down on the coach. At least his face has cooled down. Unfortunately, the second he closes his eyes, the image of Gwangchul in his bed resurfaces and the uncomfortable warmth returns to the rest of his body. He's half-tempted to do as Gwangchul asks.
"Ah, fine. It's more fun with them on." Not daring to ask why, Injoon waits for Gwangchul to continue. "Though you'd feel much better with your shirt off, I won't bother asking. Are you lying down?"
"Yes, but I really don't think-"
"Just shut up, Injoon," Gwangchul says- no, rather he orders, and it's something Injoon's never heard Gwangchul do before. His tone is firm, for once no trace of sarcasm or humor, and it's a strange mix of frightening and something else. Injoon shivers and snaps his mouth shut. A pause and then, suddenly, Gwangchul moans. "Injoon, I'm still really hard. Are you?"
"No-"
"Don't lie." It's amazing how quickly Gwangchul's voice switches from soft and needy to commanding and deep.
"A little," he admits, feeling his face turn red again because he'd been trying to hard to ignore the growing bulge in his pants.
"I knew it." It's almost a sigh, satisfied, and the sound makes Injoon's cock twitch. He covers his face with his hand again, but that only increases his awareness of Gwangchul's voice. "Are your eyes closed?"
"Yes."
"Mine, too. I'm imagining you here. You're over for another sleepover. How long has it been since you've been over?"
"I don't know," he mumbles, his chest constricting. With his eyes closed, he can picture Gwangchul's room perfectly- or at least, how it had looked the last time he'd been over. He wonders absently if Gwangchul still has that picture of the two of them in Thailand on his desk.
"Alright, imagine you're here, too. You're here, what do you want me to do to you?"
Somehow his body temperature's increased again and he feels dizzy. "I don't think-"
"Don't think, Injoon," he says in that firm tone. "Tell me."
"I want you to kiss me," he whispers and slaps a hand over his mouth immediately after. For three seconds he squeezes his eyes tightly closed and prays that Gwangchul's hadn't heard.
"I would if you were here, but that's kind of hard to fake over the phone," Gwangchul replies slowly, something off in his voice. "How about this- your eyes still closed?"
"Mhm." Injoon forces his body to relax. He takes a deep breath.
"You're here and we're trying to sleep, but we can't. I say we should play a game and crawl on top of you. What do I do next?"
"You tell me to take off my pants and I say no." A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth despite his attempts to remain serious. Gwangchul chuckles.
"Probably, so to get even, I make you take your shirt off." A pause. "I make you, so lose the shirt, Injoon."
Frowning, Injoon obeys. After a paranoid glance toward the hall, he yanks off the dirty t-shirt and drops it onto the floor with his sweatshirt. He makes sure they're within reach, just in case. "It's off."
"Good. Now, of course, I've already taken off my shirt because I'm not a baby who has to be asked to," he continues. "So I lean in real close, almost enough to kiss you, but I don't because I'm not gay like that." He pauses to laugh and Injoon laughs, too, because he can picture it all perfectly. Without thinking, he gently touches his stomach and the cold of his fingers on his skin makes him breathe in sharply. "You starting without me? I haven't even touched you yet," Gwangchul scoffs. "But keep going. Touch yourself everywhere you'd want me to touch you."
Half-tempted to stay quiet and do nothing, Injoon gulps and, very carefully, runs his hand along his chest. His hand is still cold and he gives himself goosebumps. It's easy to imagine- Gwangchul hovering over him, a smirk on his face, experimentally putting his cold hands on Injoon's chest and his face brightening in a wide smile when Injoon gasps at the feeling. Injoon doesn't realize the sound's left his imagination and escaped his lips until he hears a similar surprised gasp through the speaker, followed by a nearly inaudible moan. That sounds blurs Injoon's vision and his hand drifts to his jeans, rubbing his palm against his zipper. His mouth falls open in a surprised moan.
"That was a good sound," Gwangchul says, trying to laugh but it comes out breathy and weak. "But I'm not very patient. You say no, but don't mean it, so after some struggling and kissing I get your pants off."
"I thought you weren't gay enough to kiss," Injoon quips.
"Shut up," Gwangchul growls. "And lose the pants." Injoon doesn't even pause to think this time. His jeans slip off easy enough.
"Boxers, by the way," he says when Gwangchul stays quiet.
The response he gets is a muffled moan and a quick, "Fuck, Injoon."
"What do you do next?" Injoon asks, feeling oddly powerful. Gwangchul pants into the phone and Injoon slides a hand into his boxers. He wraps his fingers around his now throbbing erection and shudders. "You don't do anything," he continues shakily. "I won't let you touch me. Instead, you stay where you are and I make you watch as a jerk myself off. You try and intervene, but I won't let you. You're stuck right there and you can't do anything." He can picture Gwangchul's frustrated face, eyes dark and confused, and he runs his thumb over the head of his cock and whimpers.
"Since when are you such a tease?" Gwangchul moans. "I wish I could touch you-"
"No touching," Injoon orders, imitating Gwangchul's earlier tone and grinning to himself when Gwangchul curses, voice choked. "The only person you'll be touching is yourself." He strokes himself slowly, teasing himself and feeling Gwangchul's eyes on him, worsening the tease. "It's too bad. I'm so fucking close, Gwangchul. Please-"
Gwangchul lets out a sudden stream of profanities and there's a dull thud as if the phone's slipped. His panting is distant for a moment, then close, right in Injoon's ear.
"But of course, you come first," Injoon half-moans, pumping himself at a pace that makes him see white and Gwangchul's face appears before him- sweaty, in that post-orgasm glow with a tired, dreamy grin. With a quiet moan and grunt, Injoon fists himself and comes into his hand, coating his fingers stickily. For a few minutes, Injoon focuses only on his breathing with his eyes closed, trying to image what came next, but mind incapable. When he opens his eyes, reality hits him like an icy weight. He wants to cry and grab his clothes and run. Gwangchul's voice is what stops him.
"That was a surprise," he yawns to Injoon, having regained his composure. "Embarrassed?"
"Just shut up." Injoon finds a box of tissue and cleans his hand before yanking back up his boxers and jeans.
"Go shower, you'll feel better," his friend says, voice utterly satisfied. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"
"Of course," Injoon replies quickly. His heart's still thudding at an awkwardly quick pace. "We talk every night."
"I know," Gwangchul says slyly. "But I think we should do this more often. And maybe make some plans for a sleepover."
Letting himself sit back on the couch, Injoon sighs and can't help but smile. "Oh, I see how it is," he murmurs. "Yeah, we'll do that."
"Don't worry, I like you for more than your phone sex." Another long, exhausted yawn as Injoon rolls his eyes. "'Night, Injoon."
"Sweet dreams," Injoon says, smirking, and he flips the phone closed.
yes, it does take that long to get injoon out of his pants. >|
Pairing: Gwangchul/Injoon
Genre: pwp
Word Count: 2622
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sexual content
Summary: Injoon calls Gwangchul every single night.
Notes: It's kiparang's fault.
At two forty-five in the morning, Injoon unlocks and opens his front door as quietly as he can and tiptoes across the foyer until he’s safe in the living room. The hall that leads to the bedrooms is now far enough away that he can flop onto the couch with a loud, content sigh. His backpack lands somewhere to the side and he couldn’t care less. After a few minutes of lying there, he almost falls asleep, so he forces himself into a sitting position and digs out his cell phone from his back pocket. Hitting the speed dial, he says a quick prayer that he isn’t too late this time.
A muffled groan confirms his fear. “Shit! Did I wake you?”
“Nope.” The response is automatic and dripping with familiar sarcasm. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Gwangchul’s long, echoing yawn worsens Injoon’s guilt.
“Sorry,” he mumbles into the phone. “Practice went late tonight.” For a good three minutes there is no response and Injoon’s on the brink of tears. “C’mon, I said I was sorry!” He gets a strange, surprised snorting sound in response followed by confused silence. “Did you fall back asleep?”
“No,” Gwangchul yawns after another pause, but he immediately bursts out laughing a second later and Injoon can’t help but laugh, too, covering his mouth with his hand. “So, how was practice?” Gwangchul asks, his voice muffled. Injoon can picture it perfectly- Gwangchul lying face-down with his head turned on the pillow only enough to allow the phone to balance on his ear.
Injoon stretches his tired limbs and groans. “The usual.”
“Mm, sounds like fun,” he replies. He seems to start to say something, but is cut off by another yawn. “Hey,” he says. “You won’t believe the dream I was having when you called.”
The tone is heavy, Gwangchul’s voice low, and the suggestiveness of the statement makes Injoon’s face color. “You’re right, so don’t share it.”
There’s shuffling as Injoon assumes Gwangchul is rolling over. “You’re no fun,” he says with amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with talking about sex dreams.” Injoon bites his lip and doesn’t respond. “Oh, like you don’t have them?” Gwangchul asks, and Injoon can see that roll of the eyes.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I go telling everyone about them.”
“Don’t tell everyone. Tell me.”
Injoon’s breath catches in a strange hacking cough, which makes Gwangchul roll with laughter on the line. “No,” he finally says, trying so hard to be firm, but his voice is weak after his fit. A sigh, and for a moment Injoon thinks he’s won, but Gwangchul cuts him off as he goes to change the subject.
“When’s the last time you jacked off, anyway?”
Another coughing fit followed by more of Gwangchul laughter in Injoon’s ear. Injoon’s face is flushed, though from the coughing or the embarrassment, he’s not sure. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he whines. His exhaustion is starting to weigh on him. His arms feel like dead-weights. Bed sounds like a good idea, but he honestly doesn’t think he has the energy to drag himself across the house. Besides, he hasn’t gone to sleep without talking to Gwangchul for at least one full hour in months.
“Not my fault you called when you did,” Gwangchul mutters and Injoon can hear the sleep still in his voice. “I’m so fucking hard right now.” His low groan makes Injoon’s stomach flip and his face heat up.
“Shut up,” is all Injoon can manage to whisper, his mouth suddenly dry.
“But Injoon,” he groans again, this time needier and his breathing is shallow, or maybe it’s just Injoon’s imagination. Injoon closes his eyes and looks away as if that might help, but the images that flash across the backs of his eyelids make him yelp. “Hey,” Gwangchul says again, but now his voice is even and calm. “You never answered my question.” When Injoon doesn’t answer right away, Gwangchul yawns and stretches. “When’s the last time you, y’know, jacked off?”
“I don’t!” His blush has spread across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears.
"Bullshit."
"Really, I-" he half-chokes out, one hand balled in a fist at his side out of frustration. "Well, okay, maybe a few times in the shower, but-" He's cut off by a loud, unrestrained yawn. "Quit yawning in my ear," Injoon grumbles, but gets only a tired laugh in response.
"You're a bad liar," Gwangchul breathes. "I bet you're the kind of guy who's only jacked off like three times in his whole life."
Injoon doesn't say anything because it's true. He chews on his lip and wishes he could just hang up. Unfortunately, Gwangchul is the type of person to pick up the conversation the next night exactly where they left off.
"I could help you out."
A groan escapes Injoon's mouth before he can stop it. He sinks deeper into the couch and covers his face with his hand. Why, of all people, is he having this conversation with Gwangchul? And yet, somehow it makes perfect sense, which only worsens Injoon's unease. "Just shut up, please."
"I don't want to," Gwangchul says with an obvious pout in his voice. "What are you wearing?"
"Jeans and a sweatshirt," he replies automatically, choosing to humor his friend and hoping like hell Gwangchul gets bored soon. "Oh, and socks. I just came back from practice, remember?"
"How sexy," Gwangchul sneers. "How about under the sweatshirt?"
"A t-shirt."
"Boxers or briefs?"
Injoon throws his hands up and it takes everything to keep from screaming. "Shut up!" he hisses and curls up into a ball faces the inside of the couch. The fabric of cushions feels cool on his overheated face.
"I'll take that as neither." Injoon suppresses another outburst. "I never thought you the kind to go commando." Gwangchul's voice is utterly amused.
"I fucking hate you," Injoon curses quietly.
"No, you don't," Gwangchul corrects, his tone the perfect imitation of a patient teacher dealing with a slow, easily confused student. "Since you're not asking, want to know what I'm wearing?" Injoon bites his lip and stays silent. He prays to whatever higher power may exist that Gwangchul get distracted, but even he doubts that such is possible at this point. Gwangchul's having too much fun. "Fine, I'll just tell you. I'm naked."
"Why the fuck are you naked?" Injoon's voice comes out high-pitched and strained. Images flash before his eyes of things he's only seen accidentally, but when he closes his eyes they only become more and more vivid.
"Too hot to sleep with clothes on," he whines and Injoon can hear him moving around. On the backs of his eyelids, Injoon can picture Gwangchul lying naked on his bed a little too easily. The image makes his stomach tighten nervously and sweat bead on the back of his neck. The heat in his face seems to be engulfing his entire body. "Why," Gwangchuls asks. "Does it turn you on?"
"N-no," Injoon says feebly. On the other end, Gwangchul bursts out laughing again.
"You're way too easy," he sighs when he finally regains control. Meanwhile, Injoon has sunk even further into the couch, his face smashed against the cushion. Even if he did reply, he doubts Gwangchul would be able to understand him. "Aw, come on," he coaches, but Injoon remains silent. "Relax. I'm sure you're tired and hot after practicing so long. Take off your sweatshirt."
Though he knows this is a trap, the statement contains too much logic to ignore. "Fine," Injoon says as he pulls out of his fetal position. After all, it is really warm in the dorm."There."
"You took it off?" Gwangchul asks, sounding slightly surprised.
"Yeah." Truthfully, Injoon does feel more comfortable now. He probably would have taken it off eventually with or without Gwangchul asking him to.
"Good. Now how about your pants?"
"Fuck off," Injoon says quickly, stretching and lying back down on the coach. At least his face has cooled down. Unfortunately, the second he closes his eyes, the image of Gwangchul in his bed resurfaces and the uncomfortable warmth returns to the rest of his body. He's half-tempted to do as Gwangchul asks.
"Ah, fine. It's more fun with them on." Not daring to ask why, Injoon waits for Gwangchul to continue. "Though you'd feel much better with your shirt off, I won't bother asking. Are you lying down?"
"Yes, but I really don't think-"
"Just shut up, Injoon," Gwangchul says- no, rather he orders, and it's something Injoon's never heard Gwangchul do before. His tone is firm, for once no trace of sarcasm or humor, and it's a strange mix of frightening and something else. Injoon shivers and snaps his mouth shut. A pause and then, suddenly, Gwangchul moans. "Injoon, I'm still really hard. Are you?"
"No-"
"Don't lie." It's amazing how quickly Gwangchul's voice switches from soft and needy to commanding and deep.
"A little," he admits, feeling his face turn red again because he'd been trying to hard to ignore the growing bulge in his pants.
"I knew it." It's almost a sigh, satisfied, and the sound makes Injoon's cock twitch. He covers his face with his hand again, but that only increases his awareness of Gwangchul's voice. "Are your eyes closed?"
"Yes."
"Mine, too. I'm imagining you here. You're over for another sleepover. How long has it been since you've been over?"
"I don't know," he mumbles, his chest constricting. With his eyes closed, he can picture Gwangchul's room perfectly- or at least, how it had looked the last time he'd been over. He wonders absently if Gwangchul still has that picture of the two of them in Thailand on his desk.
"Alright, imagine you're here, too. You're here, what do you want me to do to you?"
Somehow his body temperature's increased again and he feels dizzy. "I don't think-"
"Don't think, Injoon," he says in that firm tone. "Tell me."
"I want you to kiss me," he whispers and slaps a hand over his mouth immediately after. For three seconds he squeezes his eyes tightly closed and prays that Gwangchul's hadn't heard.
"I would if you were here, but that's kind of hard to fake over the phone," Gwangchul replies slowly, something off in his voice. "How about this- your eyes still closed?"
"Mhm." Injoon forces his body to relax. He takes a deep breath.
"You're here and we're trying to sleep, but we can't. I say we should play a game and crawl on top of you. What do I do next?"
"You tell me to take off my pants and I say no." A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth despite his attempts to remain serious. Gwangchul chuckles.
"Probably, so to get even, I make you take your shirt off." A pause. "I make you, so lose the shirt, Injoon."
Frowning, Injoon obeys. After a paranoid glance toward the hall, he yanks off the dirty t-shirt and drops it onto the floor with his sweatshirt. He makes sure they're within reach, just in case. "It's off."
"Good. Now, of course, I've already taken off my shirt because I'm not a baby who has to be asked to," he continues. "So I lean in real close, almost enough to kiss you, but I don't because I'm not gay like that." He pauses to laugh and Injoon laughs, too, because he can picture it all perfectly. Without thinking, he gently touches his stomach and the cold of his fingers on his skin makes him breathe in sharply. "You starting without me? I haven't even touched you yet," Gwangchul scoffs. "But keep going. Touch yourself everywhere you'd want me to touch you."
Half-tempted to stay quiet and do nothing, Injoon gulps and, very carefully, runs his hand along his chest. His hand is still cold and he gives himself goosebumps. It's easy to imagine- Gwangchul hovering over him, a smirk on his face, experimentally putting his cold hands on Injoon's chest and his face brightening in a wide smile when Injoon gasps at the feeling. Injoon doesn't realize the sound's left his imagination and escaped his lips until he hears a similar surprised gasp through the speaker, followed by a nearly inaudible moan. That sounds blurs Injoon's vision and his hand drifts to his jeans, rubbing his palm against his zipper. His mouth falls open in a surprised moan.
"That was a good sound," Gwangchul says, trying to laugh but it comes out breathy and weak. "But I'm not very patient. You say no, but don't mean it, so after some struggling and kissing I get your pants off."
"I thought you weren't gay enough to kiss," Injoon quips.
"Shut up," Gwangchul growls. "And lose the pants." Injoon doesn't even pause to think this time. His jeans slip off easy enough.
"Boxers, by the way," he says when Gwangchul stays quiet.
The response he gets is a muffled moan and a quick, "Fuck, Injoon."
"What do you do next?" Injoon asks, feeling oddly powerful. Gwangchul pants into the phone and Injoon slides a hand into his boxers. He wraps his fingers around his now throbbing erection and shudders. "You don't do anything," he continues shakily. "I won't let you touch me. Instead, you stay where you are and I make you watch as a jerk myself off. You try and intervene, but I won't let you. You're stuck right there and you can't do anything." He can picture Gwangchul's frustrated face, eyes dark and confused, and he runs his thumb over the head of his cock and whimpers.
"Since when are you such a tease?" Gwangchul moans. "I wish I could touch you-"
"No touching," Injoon orders, imitating Gwangchul's earlier tone and grinning to himself when Gwangchul curses, voice choked. "The only person you'll be touching is yourself." He strokes himself slowly, teasing himself and feeling Gwangchul's eyes on him, worsening the tease. "It's too bad. I'm so fucking close, Gwangchul. Please-"
Gwangchul lets out a sudden stream of profanities and there's a dull thud as if the phone's slipped. His panting is distant for a moment, then close, right in Injoon's ear.
"But of course, you come first," Injoon half-moans, pumping himself at a pace that makes him see white and Gwangchul's face appears before him- sweaty, in that post-orgasm glow with a tired, dreamy grin. With a quiet moan and grunt, Injoon fists himself and comes into his hand, coating his fingers stickily. For a few minutes, Injoon focuses only on his breathing with his eyes closed, trying to image what came next, but mind incapable. When he opens his eyes, reality hits him like an icy weight. He wants to cry and grab his clothes and run. Gwangchul's voice is what stops him.
"That was a surprise," he yawns to Injoon, having regained his composure. "Embarrassed?"
"Just shut up." Injoon finds a box of tissue and cleans his hand before yanking back up his boxers and jeans.
"Go shower, you'll feel better," his friend says, voice utterly satisfied. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"
"Of course," Injoon replies quickly. His heart's still thudding at an awkwardly quick pace. "We talk every night."
"I know," Gwangchul says slyly. "But I think we should do this more often. And maybe make some plans for a sleepover."
Letting himself sit back on the couch, Injoon sighs and can't help but smile. "Oh, I see how it is," he murmurs. "Yeah, we'll do that."
"Don't worry, I like you for more than your phone sex." Another long, exhausted yawn as Injoon rolls his eyes. "'Night, Injoon."
"Sweet dreams," Injoon says, smirking, and he flips the phone closed.
yes, it does take that long to get injoon out of his pants. >|