( this is ... turning into a lot more than moonshik expected after that day at the coffee shop. not that he's really able to define what this is. not that he really wants to.
it was supposed to just be two people meeting up in the tiny pockets of time between classes and exams and jobs to work off the stress of their lives, to lose themselves in a little bit of pleasure. they both deserve it, really, a paint-stained left hand no substitute for a warm body pressing him down, or a hand fisted in his hair while he parts his lips a little wider to take more, or —
moonshik's getting distracted.
with the semester over and winter break settling in, moonshik can't help but let himself spend more time with seung. sure, he still has his part-time coffee-slinging gig, and sure, he should probably use this newfound free time to work on his senior project, but it's really kind of nice to ignore those responsibilities for a little bit because he's tired, frankly, and time spent away from the confines of his dorm room to cuddle up with seung on a couch that probably costs as much as a year's tuition is ... needed.
it's oddly domestic, laying here, head in his lap while a movie plays, seung's fingers carding soothingly through his hair. it reminds him of what things used to be like, before — everything. it's that little nagging reminder of his past hurt that had prompted moonshik to backspace an entire message inviting him to his dad's apartment this morning for a little christmas morning breakfast. this is a nicer substitute anyway, he figures. he thinks seung's bathroom is the size of both of the bedrooms in his childhood home combined. he's waiting for the moment that the other boy's hand slips beneath the buttons of his plaid shirt he'd left more unbuttoned than he would on a normal day, waiting for them to slip back into their usual physical routine.
when seung speaks, though, he's surprised. moonshik tips his chin up to look at him, frowning a little — which is probably not the nicest response to someone telling you they got you a present, but: ) I didn't get you anything, Seungie.
no subject
it was supposed to just be two people meeting up in the tiny pockets of time between classes and exams and jobs to work off the stress of their lives, to lose themselves in a little bit of pleasure. they both deserve it, really, a paint-stained left hand no substitute for a warm body pressing him down, or a hand fisted in his hair while he parts his lips a little wider to take more, or —
moonshik's getting distracted.
with the semester over and winter break settling in, moonshik can't help but let himself spend more time with seung. sure, he still has his part-time coffee-slinging gig, and sure, he should probably use this newfound free time to work on his senior project, but it's really kind of nice to ignore those responsibilities for a little bit because he's tired, frankly, and time spent away from the confines of his dorm room to cuddle up with seung on a couch that probably costs as much as a year's tuition is ... needed.
it's oddly domestic, laying here, head in his lap while a movie plays, seung's fingers carding soothingly through his hair. it reminds him of what things used to be like, before — everything. it's that little nagging reminder of his past hurt that had prompted moonshik to backspace an entire message inviting him to his dad's apartment this morning for a little christmas morning breakfast. this is a nicer substitute anyway, he figures. he thinks seung's bathroom is the size of both of the bedrooms in his childhood home combined. he's waiting for the moment that the other boy's hand slips beneath the buttons of his plaid shirt he'd left more unbuttoned than he would on a normal day, waiting for them to slip back into their usual physical routine.
when seung speaks, though, he's surprised. moonshik tips his chin up to look at him, frowning a little — which is probably not the nicest response to someone telling you they got you a present, but: ) I didn't get you anything, Seungie.