just pretend.

18.

Jisung woke up to the soft light filtering through the curtains, blinking as the pounding in his head reminded him of last night. Felix, his face half-buried in the pillow beside him, stirred at the movement. Jisung groaned, piecing together the memory of Felix showing up at his doorstep with a bottle of vodka, snacks, and the inevitable haze that followed. “Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, the regret already pooling in his stomach as he sat up, pressing his palm to his aching temple. The movement made Felix shift, and soon enough, those sleepy red eyes met Jisung’s gaze with a lazy smile. “Morning”, Felix murmured, his deep, morning-rough voice sending a shiver down Jisung’s spine. He let himself fall back onto his pillow, glancing sideways at the blond lying beside him. “We really can’t stop, can we?”, Jisung sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. Felix’s hand slipped beneath the blanket, resting warm and familiar against his stomach. “It’s easier to fuck away the feelings and frustration than face those stupid thoughts and conscience”, Felix replied, his fingers drifting lower, skimming the edge of Jisung’s boxers. A soft groan escaped Jisung’s lips as he felt the stirrings of arousal, his mind still clouded by the remnants of alcohol and desire. He’d already accepted that they were terrible at facing their demons – far easier to let their frustrations dissolve in moments like these than to confront the guilt head-on. “Don’t you have to work?”, Jisung mumbled, a half-hearted attempt at resisting the pull of Felix’s touch, but Felix just shook his head, his hand traveling lower. “I’ve got some days off”, he answered, his voice low and inviting as his hand wrapped around Jisung’s slowly hardening length. Jisung drew in a sharp breath, fingers instinctively tangling in Felix’s soft hair as he leaned in, pulling Felix into a slow, needy kiss. Felix’s fingers stroked him at an agonizingly gentle pace, Jisung’s moans muffled against his lips. “We don’t have to talk about what happened”, Felix whispered, his lips leaving a trail of warm kisses down Jisung’s neck and chest, pausing to leave a mark here and there, claiming every inch of skin. “We can just fuck it out for the next three days.” Jisung’s breath hitched as Felix’s tongue traced circles around his chest and drifted lower, sending shivers down his spine. Felix’s mouth lingered around his belly button, teasing him as Jisung gripped the sheets, barely able to contain himself. “Felix..”, he moaned, his voice a breathless plea as Felix moved lower, trailing kisses down his thighs. A shaky “fuck” slipped from Jisung’s lips as Felix blew a soft breath over his tip, his lips grazing it ever so lightly. “Go on, fuck into my mouth, pretty. I can take it”, Felix whispered, voice smooth as velvet, before taking Jisung’s length in his mouth without hesitation. Jisung’s eyes widened, his head falling back, mouth agape as he felt Felix’s tongue swirling around him. The pressure of Felix’s warm mouth, the way his throat relaxed around him, drove Jisung to the edge. He bucked his hips instinctively, watching Felix’s eyes water, pretty lashes darkened with traces of leftover mascara, only encouraging him more. He thrust again, mesmerized by the tear-streaked beauty below him, Felix’s gaze meeting his, full of want. Felix pulled away briefly, his mouth flushed and lips parted, before kneeling at the edge of the bed, waiting for Jisung to stand. Jisung swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he reached out, fingers tangling in Felix’s blond hair. “Are you sure?”, he asked, the words soft, laced with uncertainty. Felix looked up at him with a mischievous grin and nodded, prompting Jisung to steady himself as he thrust slowly into Felix’s mouth, the heat and wetness enveloping him again. His fingers tightened in Felix’s hair as Felix’s hand slid down to stroke himself in time with Jisung’s rhythm. “You look pretty like that”, Jisung breathed, his voice strained, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure through him. His movements became harder, each groan from Felix’s lips a testament to the intensity building between them. Felix moaned, the vibrations against Jisung’s tip electrifying, pushing him closer to the edge. Felix quickened his pace, his mouth warm and inviting as he took Jisung’s entire length, the sensation overwhelming. Jisung felt his release build with each thrust, the tension finally snapping as he released a guttural moan, his body tensing as he came, spilling into Felix’s mouth. Felix swallowed, his own body trembling as he climaxed, leaving a stain on his boxers, his face flushed and satisfied. “Fuck”, Jisung panted, collapsing onto the bed and pulling Felix onto his lap, their breaths mingling as they kissed fiercely. “Did it help?”, Felix murmured, his lips brushing against Jisung’s, the taste of himself lingering between them. Jisung nodded, not even attempting to deny it. For the briefest of moments, his thoughts had stilled, the guilt swept away in the rush of pleasure. He handed Felix a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, watching as Felix slipped into them. Over lunch, they sat side by side on the couch, cross-legged with bowls of ramen in hand, the silence thick between them as they ate. “Are you planning on telling Minho what’s going on at some point?”, Jisung asked quietly, his eyes trained on Felix as he twirled noodles around his chopsticks. Felix paused, the question hitting like a heavy weight as his eyes filled with a cocktail of emotions – sadness, guilt, and fear. “Don’t you think he’d kill me first, then come for you?”, Felix replied with a half-hearted chuckle, though there was little humor in his tone. Jisung let out a soft laugh, though the sound lacked any real joy. “Probably”, he murmured, sighing as he pushed the noodles around in his bowl, “but it’s not like we don’t deserve it.” The words hung in the air, and Jisung felt the familiar knot of guilt twist in his stomach. Each bite felt harder to swallow, and eventually, he set the bowl on the table, no longer hungry. A part of him wanted to face the consequences, to admit what he was doing with Minho’s best friend, of all people. But another part, the part that wanted to keep feeling this intoxicating escape from his own regrets, urged him to stay silent, to hide beneath the layers of lust and denial. For now, he would let himself be torn between guilt and rebellion, pretending he could have it both ways, pretending he could escape the hurt his choices would inevitably cause.