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The heat of the cabin is stifling. Standing in between the many bodies squished together like sardines in a rapidly heating can, is not something Kim Dokja would normally put himself through. Or at least, it's not something he would’ve put himself through a few months ago. Once he would’ve been willing to wait a little longer for a less crowded train carriage, but now he thanks the busyness that comes with it, the stifling lack of space. It's different now that Kim Dokja has him to look forward to.
He's standing right in front of him. His large form both trapping Kim Dokja against the wall, and blocking him from sight. It's careful, calculated, or at least it feels that way. It's only the man's back he can see – broad, muscular under his baggy hoodie. Today his legs are mostly bare, with only an inch of fabric peaking out from under his hoodie hem — the only hint that he's wearing black sport shorts underneath at all. The legs on them are so loose and open, it almost looks like he's wearing a tiny black skirt from all the thigh peaking out. Dokja salivates, wanting to grab the plush, tanned skin bared to him. Wanting even more to slide his hands up and under that thin fabric. He's always been weak to temptation.
Those gorgeous thighs belong to his companion in transport, or as he's called in Kim Dokja's head; the handsome bastard, peerless beyond all measure. He's learnt a lot about him from their long train trips together. He can't help but be reminded of their first meeting. It was a busy train ride during a time of day Kim Dokja doesn't normally take - a train ride that brought with it the horrific sensation of being jostled around like the ball in a pinball machine.
He'd been trying to read on his phone, when a shove from behind propelled him into a rather gloomy looking gentleman. The man had scowled at Kim Dokja with a face made for magazine covers, and beautiful dark eyes that sucked all the words from Dokja's mouth along with all the thoughts from his skull. There's never been a man as handsome, as ethereally gorgeous as the one currently death-glaring him.
The death-glare had curiously only lasted a moment, before the man properly took a look at him. His expression had gone strange; eyes widened just a bit, mouth parted, granting the handsome visage a softness which didn't sit unnaturally on his face - but did seem to be a rather hard won look. The entire trip the man's gaze kept darting to him from under his strong brows and wavy raven locks, his plush mouth glossy and parted.
They'd begin running into each other a lot after that — nearly every subway trip would end up with them pressed together. Jostled, pushed up against each other, and one day –
He accidentally touched him. It was an accident and he'll swear by it! And it all happened during one of the rare times they'd gotten stuck together face to face. Like usual Kim Dokja had been juggling the task of trying not to fall on his ass while reading on his phone, when he'd been slammed into from behind. Falling face first into the plush chest in front of him, Dokja's hands had grabbed onto whatever he could at the time in order to keep his balance. It just so happened what he grabbed onto was his train companion's ass cheek.
And not like a barely there hit, or an awkwardly placed hip grab, no. His palm had fully slapped the middle of his ass cheek and his fingers had dug against the hidden heat of the other man's cleft. Had there been no clothes, Kim Dokja knows his fingers would have been pressing hard over the man's hole. His companion in transit misery had shifted, huffed out a short, sharp breath, and looked down at where Dokja was faceplanted in his pectoral cleavage.
At that moment Kim Dokja thought he was going to die, sent to heaven by a moody angel in tight clothes and combat boots. Then he felt it, the twitch against his stomach where the man's groin was pressed, and he watched with disbelief as the man looked away… and tilted his hips back into Dokja's hand.
He knew it was pure delusion to think he could feel the twitch of the man's hole through denim, to believe his body burned hotter where Dokja was holding it. As it was, it's only the man's cock twitching against Dokja's stomach, and the rapid blush forming against his neck and ears, which turned it from an absurd dream to reality.
Dokja's fingers had slid further inwards, as far as he could go with the denim in the way, and rubbed as hard as he could. The man had shuddered, his eyes sliding to thin crescents of pleasure, as he rocked back against the fingers teasing him and forward against Dokja's stomach. A few ruts back and forth with Dokja's fingers grinding against his clothed entrance, and the man's cheek fell to thump down against the top of Dokja's head. His body had done its best to merge into Dokja's own, and then he'd stiffened with the softest, breathiest noise Dokja had ever heard outside of a porno. Kim Dokja didn't need to look down to know what happened, he could feel the heat spreading against his abdomen.
His companion was so easy then, and has only gotten easier since. It's almost a compulsion, whenever Kim Dokja sees him, all he can think of is touching between those thighs of his until he stills and sighs and falls limp against Dokja's smaller frame. It's even better now that he knows what's between them. Such a rarity they are, with a gift only a miniscule fraction of the population are blessed with – capable of giving and receiving pleasure in every possible way. A familiar wetness grows between his own thighs, and his palms pressed down on his groin as if it'll stop his cock from hardening. The perfect man, and Dokja doesn't even know his name.
Kim Dokja swallows. His eyes linger on the man's long legs, the thick muscle coated in healthy fat, his curvy thighs and hips... His ass. Plump, just as fat coated as his thighs, soft to the touch and amazing to squeeze. He reaches out a hand, and lets it sit high on the man's inner thigh. The man shifts, and for a heartbeat, just like every time before, Kim Dokja thought it was over. Thought that the man would finally turn around with disgust in his eyes and a raised fist. Instead, those long legs part further as the man relaxes back against him.
With the ridiculously slutty shorts he was wearing, Kim Dokja had no trouble sliding one of his hands up to cup his companion's ass. His fingers sink into the jiggly flesh, and his thumb slides in to rub against his hole through his underwear... Instead his finger presses against a twitching, hot and puffy entrance - bared to him completely.
“Commando?" Dokja breathes out in shock. As if in reply, the hole under Dokja's thumb hungrily gapes as if trying to swallow his digits. He swallows as the man widens his stance further. They're surrounded by people, a deafening cacophony of human noise and life. People on their phones, reading, pressed shoulder to shoulder and sweltering from the combined body heat. They can't see Dokja slide his other hand up to take the man in his grasp. Yet here Dokja is, a near stranger's cock dripping over his hand.
He rubs at the sensitive sticky-slick head, biting his lip to hold back the hoarse noise he wants to release. The man, as he always does, goes as limp as he can against Dokja without knocking them both over. It's a comforting weight, and only a slight obstruction for his groping. The hand thumbing at his companion's hole playfully moves to squeeze at his balls, and rewarding the near silent moan it pulled from his companion's chest, slides down to press against his taint. Or where it would be if not for the thick, arousal slick coated folds carefully tucked away.
The man’s thighs squeeze tight around Dokja's hand, trapping it up against the exquisitely sensitive flesh. It's obvious that he rarely touches or plays with this part of himself, likely even thought of it as something unnatural; something separating him from the vast majority of people. Dokja has been all too pleased to prove him wrong, to show him how good it feels to be so blessed - even if it was only having him cum through the thin fabric of his briefs in the past.
This, feeling the glossy heat bare against his finger pads? Getting to swirl his finger around the testosterone swollen clit, twitching like a second cock just waiting to bloom? Sliding his fingers further in and rubbing against the aroused slick-wet entrance to his cunt? It's something he never could’ve expected he'd be allowed.
It's so wet, so willing, that Kim Dokja barely needs to press against it to feel it give in to him, the tip of his finger sinking into the warm wet grip of it. It's tight, almost too tight, virgin tight. His own pussy throbs in sympathy, his cock straining against the front of his work pants, and he gives in to the urge beckoning him to pull his dick out into the open.
His partner makes a soft sound of complaint when Dokja removes his hand from where it was petting the head of his cock, but is quickly distracted by Dokja's finger sinking into his cunt an extra centimetre. He's massaging the walls as best he can through the clench around his finger, hoping he'll manage to find - aha! After barely a rub against his sweet spot, the man tightens painfully around his finger, before going loose, loose, loose with a filthy flutter and gush of slick.
This orgasm seems intense for how little Dokja did, the man’s cunt keeps pulsing around Dokja's fingers, his climax dripping down Dokja's wrist, and he's buried his face in his jumper collar to hide his stifled pants of pleasure. It's the most erotic scene Dokja's ever seen - porn couldn't dare compare. Out of sympathy for his companion's potential overstimulation, he begins to pull his finger out with an audibly wet noise. The man's thighs tighten harder around Dokja's wrist, his hand darting back to grab at his hip.
"N-nng, no. Don't..." It's breathy, low, a deep thrumming voice that coils around Dokja's ears. His cock twitches in his hand, pre welling from its slit. This man is...
"You haven't... Yet," The man’s skin is flushed pink, his embarrassment so charmingly contradictory to his appearance and the little dregs of his personality Dokja's parsed, that he can't help but want to sink his teeth into the fetching red of his companion's neck. Until his words filter through Dokja's hazy mind.
"Ah, you want me to cum?" Dokja murmurs against the man's sharp jaw. The man quickly inhales, turning his face away and nods. What in the gap moe... This bastard is just too cute. Well, with such an enthusiastic response, how could Kim Dokja say no?
But first, Dokja glanced around at the people surrounding them. No one looked at them, all distracted by their phones or books. They've remained completely unnoticed in the crowd. Human disinterest at its finest. Judging it safe enough, he pulls his finger out fully this time, ignoring the man's grumpy growl, instead sliding his cock against the back of his companion's thigh.
The other man gets it immediately, parting his legs just enough to let Dokja's cock slide between them - and between the wet folds of his cunt. He's not going to fuck the man, not on a train surrounded by people, especially not if it's to be both of their first times, but he is going to rub against the glossy folds until he comes all over them.
"It'll burn..." The man murmurs. His voice is a touch too excited for the words he just said. Strange of him to say though, with how wet he is it shouldn't burn at... wait. Does he think Dokja's going to just put it in? No proper prep, no protection? If so, just how much of a masochist is this guy?! ... Maybe he could purchase some clamps... No, he needs to focus.
He picks up his speed, his arms wrapped tight around the man's firmly muscled stomach under his jumper, his hips grinding tight short thrusts against the wet heat. The feel is perfect, so sweet and gentle, his thighs are like slick silk against Dokja's shaft, and the head of Dokja's cock rubs against the man's swollen clit and hole. The man's getting close again, Dokja can feel it in the increase of slick, the pulsing flutter of his cunt's entrance, and the way the man begins trembling in his arms.
Dokja's distracted by his own heat, the pulse in his own untouched pussy - he really needs to find a way to get the man on his knees and put his mouth to good use - the way his balls draw tight and throb, ready to spill over his companion's fertile opening. The tension snaps, his climax coming in heady sparks that arch along his spine as his vision whites out, just as his cock splatters his cum against the man's entrance. His partner follows him almost immediately after, as if it was the feel of Dokja's climax soaking his cunt that sent him over the edge.
It's a harsh orgasm, the man arching against him and whimpering into his arm, and wet in a way that has Dokja a little scared of how they're going to hide the evidence of what they just did. Dokja pulls back, just a little, and tucks himself back into his pants. Before patting his pockets. He's sure he has something he can use to wipe the other man down. So engrossed, he doesn’t see the man move, nor is he expecting the man to turn around and pin him to the wall.
"Wha-"
"Yoo Joonghyuk," the man, no, Yoo Joonghyuk growls. He stares at Kim Dokja like a starving man, with a face so lewd Dokja almost couldn't recognize it as belonging to the otherwise handsome and put together man.
"A-ahh, Y-Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi," One of Yoo Joonghyuk's fingers presses against Kim Dokja's lips, silencing him in an instance.
"For you? It’s Joonghyuk," He purrs, his pupils are blown so wide his eyes look black, and Kim Dokja can't help but notice how long, long, long his eyelashes are. He knows his name now — it feels almost dangerous.
"It’s my stop," Yoo Joonghyuk smiles as the doors ding, signifying they've entered a station, "I'll see you tomorrow Dokja," he's gone before Kim Dokja can even comprehend what just happened. Wait... Did he just? His name badge isn't hanging around his neck, which makes sense. He normally stashes it in his bag after work. Perhaps he'd been less vigilant earlier and the other man saw it? It's not impossible, in fact it's the most likely scenario. He shrugs off the weirdness that came with that man, Joonghyuk, knowing his name. His heart however still pounds fast in his chest. Tomorrow, tomorrow, how quickly can tomorrow come?
----
Yoo Joonghyuk quickly locks himself into a toilet stall before pulling down his pants in desperate haste. Just enough to scoop the cum still wet against his cunt onto his fingers and slide them inside himself. Kim Dokja, Dokja, want it, love it, loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouperfectlovelovelovewantYOUWANTWANTWANT. The phantom feeling of Dokja's fingers inside him, his cock butting and grinding against his folds, is enough to send Joonghyuk's eyes rolling back in his skull.
His teeth bite through his lower lip, blood spilling down his chin and across his tongue as he pistons his fingers harder into his dripping wet cunt, and cums hard around them. His other hand, which had been stripping away at his cock harshly, milks the last of his orgasm and cum into the filthy public toilet in front of him.
He pants, harsh and loud in the tiny stall, and tries to fix himself into some semblance of composure. A single look in the tiny mirror hanging above the equally tiny sink, is enough to make even a post orgasm Joonghyuk glower. He's flushed, hair mussed, with red smeared over his chin. His eyes are wide, frantic, almost deranged as he looks at himself.
It's hard to be respectable around that man, it's hard to look respectable when all he wants to do is push him down and take his dick until Joonghyuk can't breathe from the fullness of it. He's like a hook in Joonghyuk's brain; he's all he can think about to the point he's losing sleep, and unable to eat when he doesn't know how Dokja's doing. Speaking of, Joonghyuk pulls out his phone, ignoring the tackiness of his fingers, and brings up their shared map app. Dokja's pin moves towards the pin marked, 'Dokja's house 🦑 ️ (temporary)'.
It's a dump in a shitty area. The only positive thing the area has going for it? Kim Dokja lives there. The first time Joonghyuk visited, he'd been shocked at how bad the area was, more so at how easy it was to get into Dokja's apartment. All Joonghyuk could think is 'what if someone who wanted to hurt Dokja got in, it's so easy after all'. Which is why he installed the cameras. He needs to make sure Dokja is safe, if something happens to him... His knuckles whiten as the grip on his phone tightens, and filled with an intense sense of panic, Joonghyuk pulls open the camera feed.
The apartment is just as empty as it was earlier that day, just as empty as it always is after Dokja leaves for work. He tabs over the room labeled 'bath' and feels his ears heat. He'll need to keep an eye on this one, Dokja could slip and fall, and with no one living with him (yet) he wouldn't be helped. Not without Joonghyuk. He shivers, his whole body tingling at the thought of the older man.
Only a few nights ago he'd snuck in while Dokja had been sleeping. He hadn't felt good leaving Mia at home by herself, but the area they lived in was so much safer than this shithole, and Joonghyuk was all but thrumming with the need to check on him. To make sure the cameras weren't lying, to make sure he was well.
Seeing his soft face slack and peaceful with sleep had affected Joonghyuk more than he was expecting. How could he resist the urge to touch himself with the other man so close? It was easy to sink his hand into his pants, to touch at his growing hardness until he throbbed in his rough grasp. It wasn't the first time he'd sunk so low - gotten so overwhelmed and impulsive in his presence - nor will it be his last, but once again he’d sunk down next to the bed, and stared at Dokja’s features as his thumb rolled against his steadily slicking cockhead. The scent of him made him dizzy, knowing he was so close, so vulnerable, here for Yoo Joonghyuk to watch, taste, touch.
His hand quickened, the near silent schlicks of wet skin against wet skin had Joonghyuk shivering from the nervous excitement growing along his spine. He might get caught, Dokja might wake, might get angry… might wrestle him down onto his bed and slide into his achingly empty cunt, fucking him until he curses, cums, and squirts all over Dokja’s fat cock. The heat in him swelled and overflowed into a sticky sweet climax, a whimper caught and quelled in his throat before it could alert the still sleeping man. His whole body shook from it, as he shifted on his stiff knees. The bubbly bliss had quickly faded, leaving room for the empty neediness, the all consuming apathy he felt, to return.
The emptiness only Kim Dokja could fill, with every press and every touch. Like he does on the train. Every caress is a sinful bliss, a silent promise of forever branded into Joonghyuk’s skin. The reverence in Dokja’s hands as he touches him, the irreverence in how he touches him. The proof of his ownership is plain to anyone with eyes to look on and witness; the way he handles Yoo Joonghyuk like he has the right to. He does - Yoo Joonghyuk would let him do anything if it meant an end to the loneliness. The cold. If he’d let Joonghyuk leech the warmth from his skin to fuel his own lack. To make him feel, if for only a moment, alive.
There’s something wrong with him, he knows that, he’s always known that. But Dokja leaves him feeling normal, full of uncertainty and something else, something light and bubbly and so full to burst and loud he just needs to… he just… he needs to let it out… he needs it.
He needed Kim Dokja. Nothing felt right without him.
It took everything in him at the time to not crawl into bed with Kim Dokja. As it was, Joonghyuk showed his devotion, his attention, by cleaning up some of the filth and keeping Dokja’s home orderly. He’d made sure Dokja had extra spare cash in the hidden savings box stashed at the back of his closet. And if Joonghyuk borrowed a piece of clothing here or there; well he always gave it back, even if it was a little more well used than prior.
He thinks about his plans, about how he'll definitely have Dokja finish inside him tomorrow, and he thinks further about how he's going to introduce Mia to Dokja. He wants him in their life, no he will have him in his life. It's inevitable. He's already carving out space in his daily routines for the other man, reorganizing his and Mia's living space to accommodate another person - just a week ago he'd ordered floor to ceiling bookshelves for a quiet reading nook in his office. He's stripped tomatoes from his recent meals, bought tighter clothes and softer blankets. He's steadily building the foundations of Kim Dokja's new life by his side. Safe, happy. His. He touches his stomach idly, his lips curving into a smile. He wonders if Mia would prefer a niece or nephew. The shivers grow and his lower half throbs. Kim Dokja is a dependable sort of person. He'll have to take responsibility.