(exes!jyojyum: slow-burn, light angst, bittersweet, open ending, lovers to strangers, yearning, mutual pining, reunion.)
Jo x Taki
The Bell Between Us
Jo x Maki
(classmates!tacorice : fluff, romance, coming-of-age, high school setting.)
What else burned? (AO3)
(co-worker!jyotak: workplace relationship, cooking as foreplay, teaching as seduction, close proximity, mutual pining, domestic, aftercare, established realtionship.)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
(exes!jyojyum: slow-burn, light angst, bittersweet, open ending, lovers to strangers, yearning, mutual pining, reunion.)
Jo x Taki
The Bell Between Us
Jo x Maki
(classmates!tacorice : fluff, romance, coming-of-age, high school setting.)
What else burned? (AO3)
(co-worker!jyotak: workplace relationship, cooking as foreplay, teaching as seduction, close proximity, mutual pining, domestic, aftercare, established realtionship.)
Heyyy, it’s been a while since I was active here! Work’s been keeping me busy. I’m updating my masterlist and slowly adding all my AO3 works too. Soon you’ll be able to just click the links there and read everything directly on AO3. Please wait for it! 💖
(exes!jyojyum: slow-burn, light angst, bittersweet, open ending, lovers to strangers, yearning, mutual pining, reunion.)
Jo x Taki
The Bell Between Us
Jo x Maki
(classmates!tacorice : fluff, romance, coming-of-age, high school setting.)
What else burned? (AO3)
(co-worker!jyotak: workplace relationship, cooking as foreplay, teaching as seduction, close proximity, mutual pining, domestic, aftercare, established realtionship.)
Emotionally Dysregulated!Jyo x Secure-leaning Partner!Jju
Genre: DDDNE, Toxic Relationship, Psychological Tension, Angst with Happy Ending, Aftercare, Porn with Plot, Slowburn Turned Explosive (more tags on AO3)
CW: 4,1K
They say love is supposed to feel like sunlight.
Jo has only ever known fog.
He doesn’t love halfway. He doesn’t believe in softness without proof. When it comes to Euijoo, wanting quickly turns into testing, and affection becomes something sharp enough to draw blood.
Euijoo says he chooses him.
Jo just isn’t sure if choice is stronger than fear. In a relationship built on jealousy, possession, and the terror of being left behind, they have to decide: is this love a swamp—or can they build something solid in it?
hi honest question do u use any form of ai i want to write but i have a lot of trouble... i was thinking of using ai for help
hello! i usually tag @/lunelibrary every time i post my works on X, and AI is prohibited in this space. i understand how hard it can be to start or keep going, especially if english isn’t your first language (because it’s not mine either). if you’re thinking about using AI, maybe try using it just for brainstorming or outlining, but keep the actual writing in your own voice. that way, it still feels like you! well, i’m not an expert or anything, but if you ever want to talk or need help with something i can maybe help with, feel free to reach out. i’m active on X/AO3 under the username breaktolife.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I’m genuinely so happy you found something to keep you going. I hope you continue to find peace in &team and their music, much like we do, and also in us. I’m so proud of you for pushing through all the difficulties in life. You are truly one of the strongest people I’ve seen.
thank you… truly.
i can’t even express how much your support means to me. andteam, their music, and luné around me make my life brighter and help me keep going when things get tough. i’ll keep moving forward, and i hope i can reflect even a bit of the love and strength you’ve given me. i also hope you find happiness in whatever choices you make. thank you for leaving me this message—it meant so much. i read it as soon as you sent it, but i needed a little more energy to reply properly. i’m sorry. ily ❤️
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Romance, Slow Burn, Comfort
WC: 5.972
A tired return from work no longer means silence. The apartment smells of dinner, laughter lingers in the kitchen, and small routines have turned into something more. In the warmth of shared meals and quiet affection, four walls become a home.
The keypad beeps four times, followed by the soft mechanical click of the lock. Jo pushes the door open with a tired shoulder, letting the familiar warmth of home spill over him. His bag slides off his shoulder almost automatically, landing on the entry bench where it always does.
The apartment isn’t quiet. It never is, not anymore.
There’s the sound of water running, the soft clink of plates being set down, and—most tellingly—the smell. Something savory, rich, comforting in the way it wraps around him instantly, tugging at the tension in his shoulders and coaxing it to loosen. Garlic, miso, a whisper of sesame oil.
He sighs, but it’s not exhaustion—it’s relief.
“Taki?” he calls, undoing the buttons of his coat with one hand as he kicks off his shoes.
“In here!” comes the bright reply, over the bubbling of a pot.
Jo steps into the kitchen and the scene makes him stop for a moment. Taki, hair a little messy, apron tied loosely around his waist, stands with his back to him, shoulders moving in a rhythm that speaks of practice. The boy is stirring something with careful attention, tasting with the tip of a spoon, frowning, adjusting the seasoning.
“You beat me home again,” Jo says, leaning against the doorway, his voice softer than he intended.
Taki glances over his shoulder, face brightening immediately. “Mm. I finished earlier than I thought. So I came straight back and tried this new recipe.” He gestures with his spoon, a drop of soup threatening to slide off. “I thought… maybe you’d want to try it.”
Jo huffs a laugh, pushing off the doorway and coming closer. “Mind? You’re feeding me.” He peeks into the pot, shoulders brushing Taki’s. “I’d be an idiot to complain.”
It had started small, really. A soup left warming on the stove. Rice balls wrapped neatly with a note that said eat before it gets cold. At first Jo had pretended not to care, only tasting politely, but the flavors had stayed with him—comforting, like home. Somehow those tastings had turned into meals eaten together at the small table, chopsticks knocking when they both reached for the same dish.
Now, it felt natural. Expected. Coming home didn’t mean silence anymore. It meant this.
“Sit,” Taki says, setting down a plate with more authority than his usual tone. “It’ll be done in a minute.”
Jo obeys, dropping into the chair with a grateful sigh, watching Taki move around the kitchen. There’s a kind of rhythm in the way he cooks: quick but not rushed, precise but not stiff. Jo likes watching it more than he’d admit.
Soon the food is spread out before him. Not extravagant—just mapo tofu, boiled edamame, and enoki beef roll. But it’s steaming, and the air feels thick with something Jo can only call warmth.
They eat together.
The quiet between them is comfortable, filled with the clink of chopsticks and Taki’s soft comments about whether the seasoning is right. Jo hums in approval every few bites, and somewhere around the halfway mark, he leans back, wiping his mouth.
“You’re seriously good at this,” he says, voice steady, honest. “If I came home to that every day—the cooking—I’d be so happy.”
The words hang in the air, weighty and gentle.
Taki’s ears turn pink, though he ducks his head quickly, pretending to fuss with his bowl. “Jo-kun said the meal was delicious. I’m happy about that.”
It should end there, but Jo doesn’t let it. He sets his chopsticks down and stands, walking around the table. Taki looks up, confused, only to find Jo’s arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind.
Taki freezes for a second, then relaxes, warmth spreading across his cheeks. “Jo-kun—”
“You’re ridiculous,” Jo murmurs into his hair, voice muffled but sincere. “Running home early just to cook.”
“…But you ate it all,” Taki says quietly, almost sulking. “So it was worth it.”
Jo laughs against his temple, squeezing tighter. “Yeah. Worth it.”
It isn’t just tonight. There are so many little things that have become their daily routine without either of them noticing. Jo always leaves his coat tossed over the same chair, and Taki always folds it neatly without a word. Taki forgets to drink water when he’s playing games, so Jo sets a glass next to him every time he passes by. Jo pretends he doesn’t like sweets, but he always takes the last cookie if Taki offers it.
They bicker about chores—Jo claiming the laundry is too complicated, Taki scolding him for leaving socks everywhere—but the arguments never last longer than a minute before dissolving into laughter.
And on nights like this, when Jo comes home late and tired, it always ends the same way. With a meal. With warmth. With Taki looking up at him like he’s not just worth cooking for, but worth waiting for.
Jo presses a quick kiss to the side of Taki’s head before letting go. The younger boy jolts, eyes wide, face flushed to the tips of his ears.
“Wh—what was that for?” Taki stammers, setting his chopsticks down with exaggerated care.
Jo grins, leaning on the table casually like nothing happened. “Payment.”
“For what?”
“For making me feel like this place is more than just an apartment,” Jo answers, serious this time. “You… make it feel like home.”
Taki doesn’t answer right away, but the small smile tugging at his lips says enough.
“Then,” he says softly, looking at Jo with a mix of embarrassment and quiet pride, “I’ll keep cooking. As long as Jo-kun keeps eating.”
“Deal.” Jo’s hand brushes against his as he sits back down. “But next time, I’m doing the dishes. No arguments.”
Taki rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t hide the smile anymore.
And when Jo sneaks another quick kiss to his cheek while pretending to reach for the soy sauce, the laugh that bursts out of Taki fills the apartment in a way that no keypad lock or four walls ever could.
Genre: Slice of Life, Situational Comedy, Power Outage Chaos, Live Stream Gone Wrong, Accidental Exhibitionism, Smut MxM 🔞
WC: 10,870
A casual live turns into a chaotic disaster when a sudden blackout leaves them groping, grinding, and exploring each other—completely unaware that the camera is still rolling. By morning, they discover their account has been banned for violating community guidelines.
Chapter I: Chaos in the Dark
Nicholas leaned back on the bed, eyes half-lidded, watching Harua scroll through TikT*k. He tried to focus on the screen, but something about Harua today was pulling his attention in every direction. The way his damp hair stuck to his forehead, the way the oversized sweater slipped just enough to show a shoulder… Nicholas knew he was already lost before the stream even began.
Harua laughed at a meme and poked Nicholas in the ribs. “You’re spacing out again.”
“I’m not—” Nicholas started, then stopped. He realized the red LIVE icon was blinking innocently in the corner of Harua’s phone.
“Uh… did you—?” Harua squinted.
Nicholas froze. They were already streaming, and apparently, no one had warned them. He leaned in closer, heart racing. The viewer count blinked from 8… 12… 25… growing by the second.
Then a notification popped up:
“Harua, let’s get married!”
Nicholas felt the heat rise in his cheeks. His expression twisted into annoyed disbelief—impossible to hide—and Harua glanced at him curiously, laughing. Nicholas muttered under his breath, but the viewers had already noticed.
“BRO THAT FACE 💀”
“HE’S JEALOUS 😭”
“STOP DENYING IT”
Nicholas groaned, trying to play it off. “Nothing, it’s… uh… nothing.”
Harua, oblivious, leaned over to adjust the phone’s angle, and in the chaos, their arms collided. His hand brushed against something sensitive. Both froze.
“…uh,” Nicholas whispered.
Harua sucked in a sharp breath. The accidental contact escalated naturally from there, and before either of them realized, chaos had taken over completely. And of course—the livestream was still rolling.
Viewers exploded. Emojis cascaded down the screen, hearts, fire, laughter. Gifts started popping up.
East has sent you a Lion 🦁
Harua blinked. “Someone… sent us a lion?”
Nicholas groaned again. “Harua, stop looking at the screen!”
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
“AHHHH!” Harua screamed as darkness swallowed the room completely.
“Relax,” Nicholas muttered. “I got this.”
“Do you want me to shine a flashlight for you?” he called toward the bathroom, where Harua had bolted, yelping.
“No! I brought my phone!” Harua refuses, since he takes his phone with him. He shouted back, voice echoing in the dark.
Alone, Nicholas let his own impulses run wild. He is secretly indulging in himself in the dark, after saying he wanted to help Harua with the lighting, though the darkness gave him… unexpected freedom. Meanwhile, the livestream continued, capturing every movement and sound.
The chat, naturally, was in chaos.
“THE FUCK IS HE DOING???”
“DO THEY KNOW WE CAN HEAR EVERYTHING???”
“BEST BLACKOUT STREAM EVER”
Harua returned from the bathroom, he had a towel wrapped around his waist. The room was still dark, the only light coming from his phone. Carefully, he moved across the room, thinking he was stepping onto the edge of the bed. Instead, he landed right between Nicholas’s thighs.
Nicholas froze. Harua blinked. Neither realized that the camera was still capturing everything. The chat exploded.
Nicholas length pressed against his cheeks. Curiosity gets the better of him, and Harua ends up guiding Nicholas’s crotch into his hole—still on the live stream, with the camera on, without them realizing.
The chat goes absolutely wild. Everyone sees Harua basically grind himself onto Nicholas’s crotch. Nicholas is shocked but his body reacts instantly, getting hard against Harua’s cheek. Harua hips move involuntarily, pressing himself harder against Nicholas’s.
Nicholas grabs Harua’s hips suddenly, stopping his movements. His voice comes out rough and commanding, “Stop.” He looks up at Harua, his eyes dark and intense. He leans in closer, his voice low and husky, “Are you doing this on purpose?”
Harua glance at Nicholas with wide, innocent eyes, “I-I thought it was the bed... and I’m just curious..”
He says softly, biting his lip. Nicholas studies his face for a moment, seeing the genuine innocence there. He hesitates, then slowly starts lifting his hips, gently thrusting upwards against Harua’s ass.
Harua lets out a small gasp as Nicholas starts moving beneath him, his hands coming up to hold onto Nicholas’s thighs for support. Nicholas grips Harua’s hips tightly.
Nicholas starts moving faster, his grip on Harua’s hips tightening as he pulls him down onto his length over and over again. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and Harua’s soft gasps. The chat is going crazy, begging for more, offering gifts.
East has sent another Lion 🦁
“FUCK YES”
“THE ANGLE 😭😭😭”
“GODDAMN, HE’S GRINDING ON IT.”
“OH MY GOD, IS HE ACTUALLY...? 💀💀💀”
“HISTORY BEING MADE”
Nicholas muttered something, his voice tight, while Harua whispered a question under his breath. The livestream picked up every single syllable.
The absurdity, the chaos, the completely accidental situation—it all fit together like a perfect storm of ridiculousness. Somewhere in the background, the Lion gift floated by again, as if mocking them.
“Bro… if anyone tells anyone about this—” Nicholas started.
Harua giggled nervously. “I don’t think anyone can even describe it.”
“Try them,” Nicholas muttered, exasperated, but even as he spoke, he couldn’t help smirking.
Above them, the lights flickered once more, teasing, then went out again. The stream kept going. Chat numbers skyrocketed. Viewers could hear every shuffle, every breath, every nervous laugh.
It was absolute chaos. And Nicholas and Harua had no idea.
Somewhere, across the globe, a thousand strangers watched, laughed, and donated in disbelief. They had created a livestream disaster of epic proportions—and it had all started with a single tap.
Chapter II: Realizing the Chaos
Nicholas groaned, still half-asleep, as his phone buzzed incessantly. Harua, already scrolling frantically, shot him a panicked glance.
Harua held up the phone. A notification from TikT*k confirmed it: Your account has been suspended for violating community guidelines.
Nicholas rubbed his face, muttering under his breath. “Everything… everything from last night?”
Harua’s lips pressed together. “Maybe. But it wasn’t intentional! We didn’t even realize we were still live…”
Nicholas froze. “…Wait. We were still live?”
Harua nodded, eyes wide. “I think so… the phone never turned off the stream, even during the blackout.”
Nicholas groaned again. His annoyed-but-panicked expression—the one impossible to hide—spread across his face as he scrolled through notifications. There it was: a flood of TikT*k reactions, screenshots, and comments replaying every chaotic second.
Chat highlights from last night:
“THE BLACKOUT STREAM LEGENDS”
“HE’S JEALOUS 😭”
“ACCIDENTALLY ICONIC”
And there it was: a notification showing East sent a virtual Lion gift.
Harua blinked at it. “Someone… sent some lion gift… while we were…?”
Nicholas groaned. “Yeah. While we were… you know. Completely oblivious.”
The absurdity hit them both. They had been so caught up in the blackout, the accidental… incidents, the lights flickering, Harua in the bathroom screaming, Nicholas muttering about helping with the lighting… they hadn’t realized every second was being broadcast to hundreds, maybe thousands, of people.
Harua’s shoulders shook with laughter and horror. “So… the livestream… captured everything?”
Nicholas rubbed his eyes. “Basically everything.” He flopped onto the bed, burying his face in his hands.
They spent the next hour piecing it together, scrolling through fan accounts, laughing nervously, and groaning at the absurdity. Every accidental touch, every moaned, every shuffle, every whispered word—they had unknowingly shared with the world.
Harua shook his head, still giggling. “I can’t believe… we just thought the blackout killed the stream.”
Nicholas groaned yet again. “Nope. The universe wanted us famous, apparently… by accident.”
Harua’s grin widened. “As rising porn stars?”
The two of them sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then Harua muttered, “Do you… think anyone actually noticed our… uh…” He gestured vaguely.
Nicholas groaned louder. “Yes, they noticed. Hundreds of them.”
The absurdity of the situation—the blackout, the bathroom screams, the accidental touching turn into something more than that, the still-live stream, the virtual gifts—settled in like a perfect storm of ridiculousness.
Both of them laughed, shaking their heads. They had survived, but now, every conversation, every meme, every screenshot, would remind them that their chaotic night had gone global.
Nicholas muttered, “Next time, we check everything. Live stream. Power. Phones. You name it.”
Harua smirked. “Or… we just embrace the chaos.”
Nicholas groaned, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Somehow… I think TikT*k agrees with you.”
Nicholas stretched lazily, his morning wood tenting the blanket. He heard a soft gasp from Harua, eyes wide as staring at Nicholas obvious morning wood.
Harua’s face turns bright red, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on Nicholas’s obvious erection, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. After a long pause, he stammers out, “You are... um... really big in the morning...” Before quickly looking away, hiding his flushed face behind his hands.
Nicholas can’t help but chuckle at Harua’s adorable reaction. He slowly pulls back the blanket, revealing his hard length. It jumps slightly at the cool air, throbbing. Nicholas reaches out, wrapping his hand around himself and giving himself a slow stroke. “Want to touch?”
Harua swallows hard, watching Nicholas slowly stroke himself. He licks his lips unconsciously. “It’s... it’s huge...” He mutters. He looks up at Nicholas’s face, then back to his crotch. He hesitates, then asks softly, “Can I...?”
Nicholas spreads his legs wider, giving Harua full view of his hard-on. “You can touch,” he says softly. “Or jerk me off. Or put it in your mouth. Whatever you want.” He watches Harua’s eyes darken as he swallows hard.
His hands shaking slightly as he reaches out. He wraps his small hand around Nicholas’s length, his fingers not even reaching all the way around. He starts to jerk him off slowly, his thumb brushing over the tip to spread the pre-cum.
“The camera isn’t on this time, right?” Harua asked.
Nicholas chuckled “Nope, your account’s been banned. Just keep going.”
And somewhere on the screen, the chaos of the night remained, a memory neither Nicholas nor Harua would ever forget.
Genre: Slice of Life, College AU, Friends to Lover, Fluff with Tension, Smut MxM 🔞
WC: 13,037
They’ve always been side by side—study buddies, roommates, each other’s safe place. Everyone jokes they’re basically married, but neither dares to cross the line. Then one kiss changes everything, feels too close to be just friendship, too uncertain to be love.
Chapter I: Textbooks & Teasing
Yuma and Taki have been inseparable since high school—study buddies, late-night gamers, and each other’s safe place. Now, in university, they’ve chosen the same major, taken the same classes, and even share the same cramped dorm room. Everyone around them jokes that they’re “basically married already,” but Yuma insists they’re just best friends. Taki, on the other hand, has begun to wonder if his feelings are starting to shift into something he can’t laugh off. Between group projects, cafeteria lunches, and long nights spent side by side with textbooks and quiet laughter, the line between friendship and something more keeps blurring—until neither of them is sure where they stand anymore.
It’s past midnight, their dorm room lit only by the bluish glow of Yuma’s laptop. They’ve been “studying” for hours, though the textbooks lie forgotten between them on the bed. Yuma leans back, rubbing his eyes, and Taki laughs at how dramatic he looks. The laughter lingers a little too long, softening into silence.
The hum of Yuma’s laptop was the only sound in their cramped dorm room. Midnight had come and gone hours ago, but the bluish screen still lit the mess of papers scattered across their bed.
Taki lay sprawled on his stomach, chin balanced on his folded arms, watching Yuma type like his life depended on it. “You know,” Taki muttered, “I think you’re trying too hard. No one cares if your notes are this neat.”
“They help me focus,” Yuma replied without looking up.
Taki grinned. “Yeah, but I’m here. You should be focusing on me.”
That earned him a flat look, the kind Yuma had perfected after years of putting up with him. Still, Yuma’s mouth curved at the corner, betraying a tiny smile.
And Taki’s chest tightened. There it was again—that dangerous little shift he’d been noticing lately. How just watching Yuma’s expressions could pull him in deeper than he’d admit.
Their knees brushed. Normally, Yuma would’ve scooted an inch away without thinking. But tonight, he didn’t. He stayed close.
Taki didn’t plan it. He just leaned forward, heartbeat drumming in his ears, and kissed him. Quick, tentative, almost like testing a door to see if it was locked. Yuma froze, then let out a shaky laugh. “So… we’re doing this now?”
The tension cracked, softer, brighter. They didn’t call it anything. They didn’t need to. Not defined, not labeled—yet—but real.
The next day they have a long afternoon class, the kind that stretches on for hours and makes the lecture hall feel even stuffier than usual. The professor’s voice drones on at the front of the room, filling the lecture hall with the kind of monotone that makes half the class fight to stay awake. Yuma sits up straight anyway, pen moving steadily across his notebook.
Beside him, Taki is the complete opposite—slouched low in his chair, chin resting on his hand, eyes drifting not to the board but to Yuma.
But Yuma’s already lost in his notes, head bent over the desk. His handwriting is neat, precise, like he’s determined not to miss a single point. When Taki isn’t even trying. His pen spins idly between his fingers, his attention fixed entirely on Yuma instead of the lecture.
“Stop staring,” Yuma murmurs without looking up.
“I’m not staring,” Taki says, voice low, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “I’m just… observing.”
Yuma frowns, trying to focus, but then he jolts slightly—Taki’s hand slides between them under the desk, fingers brushing the inside of Yuma’s thigh. It’s casual, like Taki doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, except Yuma knows he does.
His breath catches. “Taki—what the hell—” he hisses, too sharp, and a couple of heads turn toward them. Yuma quickly ducks, ears burning red.
Leaning closer, Taki whispers near his ear, warm and smug. “Relax. No one’s paying attention.” His hand doesn’t move higher, just rests there, heavy with intention.
Yuma tries to write, but the words on the page blur. His pulse hammers in his throat. “You’re so annoying,” he mutters, though his voice cracks, betraying him.
Taki chuckles quietly, the sound only Yuma can hear. He squeezes lightly, teasing. “You like it though.” Yuma’s silence was answer enough.
“You know what?” He smirks suddenly while still maintaining eye contact. His free hand traces patterns on Yuma’s thigh possessedly while slowly unbuckling Yuma’s belt with practiced ease. “We should stop and start practicing something more useful.”
His hand slowly slides inside Yuma’s pants, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his underwear. “Like this. Practicing for when we're actually ready to...” He pauses, his hand squeezing gently.
His fingers slowly pull down Yuma’s underwear, exposing his erection under the table. Taki’s hand wraps around it, starting to slowly jerk him off. He leaned his head closer to Yuma and whispered, their breaths mingling. “Fucking. When we are actually fucking, hmm?” Yuma gasp.
One of his hands still busy doing his job, while the other flips through the textbook, pretending to study intensely.
Chapter II: Button-Down & Butterfingers
This weekend, neither of them had made any plans. Yuma figured they’d just stay in the dorm, maybe order food and waste the day away. But somehow, after lunch, Taki dragged him out with a casual, “Let’s just walk around the city. Don’t think too hard about it.”
They end up wandering into a clothing store, the kind with bright lights and soft music, racks of shirts and jackets neatly lined up. Yuma insists he doesn’t need anything new, but Taki keeps pulling clothes off the racks and shoving them into his arms.
“Try this one,” Taki says, holding up a button-down shirt against Yuma’s chest. “You’d look good in it.”
“I don’t need—” Yuma starts, but Taki is already steering him toward the fitting rooms.
The booth is small, the curtain barely closing. Yuma slips the shirt over his shoulders with a sigh. “Happy now?” he mutters.
Before he can button it up, Taki slips inside, tugging the curtain shut behind him. Yuma’s eyes widen. “You can’t just—”
But the protest never finishes. Taki crowds him against the mirror, smirking. “Relax. No one’s paying attention.”
Their mouths collide before Yuma can argue. It’s sudden, messy, heat rushing between them, and Yuma’s knees nearly buckle. He grips Taki’s sleeve, trying to steady himself, but instead pulls him closer.
The kiss deepens, heated and desperate in the cramped space. Every brush of lips, every breath feels too loud with shoppers walking just outside. The thought of being caught only makes Yuma’s pulse race harder.
When Taki finally pulls back, both of them breathless, he laughs softly, forehead resting against Yuma’s. “You’re red all over. Are you embarrassed?”
Yuma glares, cheeks flaming, but he can’t hide the way his lips curve. “You’re an idiot.”
He grins wider, brushing another quick kiss against his mouth, playful this time, just to tease. “Maybe. But admit it—” his hand squeezes Yuma’s waist, sending a shiver through him, “—you like it though.”
Yuma doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. The way he leans back in, kissing Taki again, says enough.
Taki laughs softly, deepening the kiss. He steals little nips at Yuma’s bottom lip, watching how the other tightens his shoulders, trying to hide how much he likes it. He knows Yuma well, knows his habits, knows when he’s embarrassed or turned on. Like now.
Their bodies press tighter, Taki’s hands slowly sliding down from Yuma’s waist to his hips. He knows exactly what he’s doing—testing boundaries, seeing how far he can push before Yuma either pulls away or... doesn’t.
Yuma tenses slightly but doesn’t pull back. Instead, his shoulders drop slightly, making his neck bare. Taki watches him closely, noting the small signs. He knows Yuma’s defensive, knows he doesn’t let people touch easily. So when Yuma doesn’t push him away, one of Taki’s eyebrows lifts.
Slowly, Taki leans down and presses open-mouthed kisses along Yuma’s neck, marking him gently. He can feel Yuma’s pulse racing under his lips and it only encourages him more. Taki pulls away, breathing heavily. He presses his forehead against Yuma’s again, eyes closed as he tries to calm down. He can feel the sweat on his skin, the pounding of his heart in his chest. It was quick and messy but fucking amazing.
Taki spreads Yuma’s legs wider, positioning himself behind him. He watches their reflection in the mirror—Yuma’s messy hair, flushed cheeks, and those perfect lips slightly parted. He grabs Yuma’s hips roughly and pushes inside suddenly, making Yuma gasp and grab onto the side handrail.
Taki starts thrusting hard and fast, their bodies slapping together. He wraps an arm around Yuma’s waist, pulling him back onto his manhood with each thrust. His other hand reaches up to cover Yuma’s mouth, muffling his sounds.
He leans down, biting Yuma’s ear gently while he continues to move inside him. “Shh,” he whispers roughly against Yuma’s skin. His hips move faster and harder, their bodies slick with sweat.
With a low groan, Taki buries himself deep inside Yuma and comes hard, filling him up with his hot cum. He holds still, panting heavily as he watches their reflections in the mirror. His hand is still covering Yuma’s mouth as he fills him up raw.
He slowly pulls out, his cum leaking out of Yuma immediately. He watches it drip down Yuma’s thighs in the mirror before leaning down to kiss him deeply again—messy and dirty from their quick fuck session.
Taki pulls back, his lips curling into a smug smile as he admires his handiwork in the mirror. Yuma’s hair is messy, his shoulders marked with love bites, and cum leaking down his thighs. He looks thoroughly fucked and it makes Taki proud.
He eans back against the mirror, catching his breath, and watches as Yuma straightens up slowly, looking uncomfortable with the amount of cum inside him. Yuma is annoyed because he didn’t pull out. He loves seeing Yuma all messed up and filled with his cum. He reaches down and slowly pulls Yuma’s pants up, not caring that they are now stained with their quickie session. Taki laughs softly, knowing that Yuma will be feeling his hot cum dripping out of him for the rest of the day.
After escaping the store without being caught, they end up in a fried chicken fast-food chain not far from campus. The place smells like oil and pepper, the hum of chatter and trays clattering filling the air. They slide into a booth by the window, trays stacked with chicken, fries, and soda.
Taki tears into his chicken tender with unbothered enthusiasm, grease shining on his fingers. Yuma watches him for a moment, lips curving faintly.
“What?” Taki says around a mouthful, grinning. “Don’t look at me like that. This is serious business.”
Yuma rolls his eyes, pretending to focus on his fries. But a mischievous spark flickers behind his calm expression. Without warning, he shifts in the booth and lets his hand slide beneath the table—resting lightly between Taki’s thighs.
Taki jolts, almost choking on his bite. “Yuma—!” he hisses, eyes wide, glancing around the crowded restaurant.
Yuma doesn’t even look up, nibbling on a fry as if nothing’s happening. His fingers stay there, light but unmistakable, the faintest pressure that makes Taki tense.
“You started it,” Yuma says quietly, voice steady, eyes still on his food. “So… don’t complain now.”
Taki swallows hard, dropping his chicken tender back onto the tray. He leans closer, his whisper low and strained. “Are you insane? People are everywhere.”
Yuma’s lips twitch into a smile, still refusing to meet his gaze. “Then stay quiet,” he murmurs, echoing Taki’s words from the fitting room.
Taki bites down on a laugh, both flustered and thrilled, his hand gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. For once, it’s Yuma in control, and Taki’s the one left red-faced.
Taki shifts in his seat, trying to keep his composure as Yuma’s fingers gently tease him under the table. He takes another bite of his chicken just to have something to do with his mouth besides moaning or cursing.
Taki freezes mid-bite as Yuma’s fingers wrap confidently around him under the table. He watches wide-eyed as Yuma nonchalantly feeds himself fries, acting like he isn’t slowly jerking Taki off. He swallows hard, trying not to make noise as his hips jerk forward softly.
When Yuma suddenly pulls out a box of fries and put it in front of the head of Taki’s manhood, as if giving a topping with load of cum instead of sauce, Taki nearly chokes on air. His hand shoots out to grab Yuma’s wrist as he lets out a strangled sound. “Fuck Yuma!”
Taki quickly looks around, panicked that someone might have heard him. When he looks back at Yuma, his face is flushed and angry but also extremely turned on. He leans in close, voice low. “You are going to pay for that.” He grabs a napkin and starts cleaning himself off under the table.
Genre: Slice of Life, Emotional Drama, Mental Health, Platonic Friendship
WC: 6,879
Sleepless nights are softened by late-night calls with a distant friend, whose voice becomes a lifeline across time zones. When one of them suddenly disappears, the other clings to memory and hope, waiting for the day they’ll speak again.
Chapter 1: Voices Across the Dark
Nicholas hasn’t slept properly in months. The city outside his window drifts in muted gray, and the hum of streetlights through the blinds only sharpens the edge of his insomnia. He rolls over, stares at the ceiling, counts things that don’t help—ceiling tiles, cracks, the hum of a passing car—and realizes that the night is too long, the silence too loud.
It starts as a small impulse. He scrolls through his phone, half-expecting the act itself to feel absurd, but finds Euijoo’s name buried in his contacts. He hesitates for a moment, thumbs hovering, then taps. The phone rings. Twice. Three times.
“Hello?” Euijoo’s voice is groggy, soft, like he’s woken from a deep sleep.
“Hey,” Nicholas says, his own voice rough from disuse, fatigue, and something else he can’t name. “It’s… late, I know.”
“I can tell,” Euijoo murmurs, a small chuckle in his tone. “What time is it there?”
Nicholas glances at the clock. “Three… almost four a.m.”
There’s a pause, the kind that feels too wide to fill over the phone. Then Euijoo laughs again, gentler this time. “Guess it’s afternoon for me. almost five p.m.”
It’s awkward at first, a conversation clumsy from months of silence. Nicholas isn’t sure what to say, what to share. He talks about small things: the hum of the fan, the shadows of the trees outside his window, the endless emails he keeps putting off. Euijoo listens, occasionally murmuring a sound that shows he’s paying attention, sometimes asking a question that Nicholas answers before he even realizes it.
By the second night, Nicholas calls again. And again the night after. It becomes a rhythm he clings to: his insomnia, Euijoo’s voice, the quiet connection bridging miles and time zones.
The calls are nothing monumental. They’re mundane. Nicholas tells Euijoo about his failed attempt at cooking. Euijoo shares a strange dream about a street he used to walk down as a child. Sometimes they fall silent. Sometimes they laugh so hard they can barely breathe. And sometimes, in the quiet moments, Nicholas feels a warmth he hasn’t felt in months, a tether to the world outside his thoughts.
Over the next few weeks, these nightly conversations begin to extend. Nicholas starts sharing little victories—finally finishing a book he’d been putting off, discovering a new café that serves the perfect black coffee, or successfully trying a recipe he thought would fail. Euijoo responds in kind, telling stories about his life in another country, the way his mornings are scented with bread from a nearby bakery, or the strangers who make small, unremarkable kindnesses.
It’s in these tiny details that their bond deepens. Nicholas notices how Euijoo listens, really listens, and how the simplest observation from him can make the night feel less heavy. He realizes he doesn’t need to solve his insomnia immediately, doesn’t need to have his life completely under control; having Euijoo’s voice there, steady and warm, is enough.
Chapter 2: The Silence Between
Nicholas begins leaving small messages during the day, pictures of the sky, short audio clips of stray cat stretching or birds chirping outside. Euijoo replies with his own snapshots—coffee cups, morning streets, the way light bends through his apartment windows. Even miles apart, they find themselves weaving a shared existence out of little fragments of their lives.
Sometimes, Nicholas imagines them walking together in real life, laughing over an absurd conversation, or sitting side by side in companionable silence, the city alive around them. These thoughts are small comforts that carry him through days when the insomnia is too strong and the silence too heavy.
Then, one night, Euijoo doesn’t pick up. Nicholas tries again. Nothing. He leaves a message. He waits. Another night passes. And another. No call back. No text. Silence.
Nicholas sits on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at the dark ceiling. He doesn’t panic at first. Maybe Euijoo is busy, he thinks. Maybe he forgot. But as the days go by, as weeks stretch longer, a hollow grows in Nicholas’s chest. The silence is heavy, unnatural, and unbearable.
He reaches for old messages, rereads their conversations, the jokes, the half-shared dreams, the silences that somehow felt full. The memory is both comforting and cruel. Every laugh, every pause, every mundane detail becomes a weight, a reminder that Euijoo is not there anymore.
Nicholas tries to distract himself, attempting routines that once helped: cooking, reading, listening to playlists they had once shared. But the joy is muted, because Euijoo’s absence echoes through everything. Even music feels hollow without his commentary, his laughter, the familiar sound of his voice punctuating a night of emptiness.
Weeks later, Nicholas learns the truth. Euijoo has entered mandatory military service. There was no warning, no chance to say goodbye. No reason to call, no way to reach him for months. The explanation is simple, factual, but the weight of it presses hard on Nicholas.
The nights return to their old rhythm, only now they’re emptier. Nicholas tries to sleep, tries to fill the silence with music or shows or anything, but the absence of Euijoo’s voice is a hollow ache that lingers at the edges of his consciousness.
Yet in the quiet, Nicholas also notices small things. He recalls Euijoo’s laughter, the way it used to rise and fall, the little pauses that made him feel connected. He remembers the mundane stories they shared and feels a quiet gratitude for them. The memories are bittersweet, but they are warmth as well.
Nicholas doesn’t know when Euijoo will return. Months, maybe a year. But he keeps his phone on, keeps the line open in his mind, imagines the familiar hello, the soft groggy voice, the laughter shared across time zones. And sometimes, late at night, he whispers into the dark, as if Euijoo could hear: “I’ll be here. Whenever you come back.”
He keeps a notebook now, writing down the things Euijoo would notice—the cracks in the ceiling, the way the light hits the window in the afternoon, the stray cat that waits outside his door every morning. He imagines telling Euijoo all of it when the calls resume, a conversation waiting across time and distance.
The world outside moves on, indifferent and vast. Nicholas lies back, eyes closed, and lets himself remember: the laughter, the mundane stories, the silences that somehow felt full. The nights are long, but they are not unbearable, because somewhere, in some distant place, Euijoo is awake too, living a life that Nicholas can only glimpse through memory and hope.
And that, Nicholas thinks, is enough to get through another night.
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this story is a continuation of “The Door Where the Cats Wait: Prologue”
Cat-sitter!Tak x Shape-shifter!Nekoz
Cameo: Cat-sitter!Jyo
Genre: BL, Fantasy Romance, Slice of Life, Magical Realism, Supernatural Mystery, Smut M/M X M 🔞
WC: 15,635
Exhausted after tending to sixty cats alone, He drifts into sleep with two curled on his lap—the moment he remembers most.
Chapter I: A Day Among Cats
Taki arrives early at the cat shelter, stretching and mentally preparing for the day. He and Jo divide the tasks carefully: Taki begins with the catio, sweeping, mopping the floor, and making sure water and food bowls are clean. Jo handles the cat room, sanitizing litter areas, refreshing bedding, and checking on the cats health.
Each of them also has their “special cats” to care for. Taki’s favorites, Yuma and Weno, usually follow him from task to task, lounging in corners, watching him clean, or mewing for attention. Taki handles the skittish ones, gently coaxing them out and giving medicine when needed. Some cats need pills, others need eye ointment or extra feeding. Jo occasionally calls out, asking if Taki needs a hand with a tricky cat, and they exchange small tips and laughs.
After swapping areas or continuing with their own tasks, Taki sits for a lunch in the back room. Today, though, Jo had called in sick. Taki manages both areas alone—catio and cat room—handling every cat, giving medicine, and soothing those who are nervous or sick. His arms are scratched in a few places, and his shirt smells faintly of cat fur, but he doesn’t mind.
Despite the exhaustion, Taki finds small moments of joy: Yuma rubs against his leg, purring, while Weno bats playfully at a stray feather. When giving medicine to a stubborn cat, he mutters under his breath, “Just a little more…”—only for Yuma to jump onto his shoulders, as if offering encouragement.
By evening, Taki’s shift should have ended at 5 PM, Taki should have finished, but cleaning both spaces alone has delayed him. Usually after cleaning up the catio and cat room, he will taking a shower or just changing into clean clothes. But exhaustion had caught up with him, and he had fallen asleep on the couch with Yuma and Weno curled up on his lap.
And then… the room shimmers.
Taki jolts awake. “W-what… what is happening?!”
Before him, Yuma stretches, his sleek black fur receding into smooth, human-like skin, amber eyes still sparkling with that same mischievous glint. Weno follows, fiery red tabby fur transforming into blonde hair. Taki’s jaw drops.
“You… you’re… humans?!” he stammers.
Weno tilts his head, smirking. “Surprise. Don’t worry, Taki… it’s still me.”
Yuma nudges him gently, pouting slightly. “We’re still your cats… just more mobile.” Then, with a delicate motion, he presses his nose softly against Taki’s, giving a slow, deliberate blink—an unspoken “I love you.”
Taki’s chest tightens. He’s still in shock, trying to process over sixty cats worth of responsibility—and now the two closest to him are human, retaining their feline mischief and affection.
Yuma wraps an arm around Taki’s waist, playful and possessive, while Weno leans against his chest, brushing a gentle hand along his arm and repeating that slow, meaningful blink.
Taki blinks rapidly, his confusion evident as he processes the sudden change. His hands hover uncertainly over Yuma and Weno’s human forms, fingers twitching as if expecting fur instead of skin. A puzzled frown creases his brow.
“What the actual fuck?” he whispers hoarsely.
His eyes dart downwards, taking in their bare forms. He swallows hard, his brain short-circuiting slightly.
“Wait a minute...” He lifts a hand slowly, poking Yuma’s stomach experimentally.
As his finger presses against Yuma’s soft, human belly, Taki’s eyes widen. Yuma giggles and squirms slightly under the touch, his skin pebbling with goosebumps. Taki snatches his hand back as if burned, staring at his own finger in shock. “Oh my god, it’s...”
“Don’t think you can escape just because you’re human now,” Yuma teases.
Taki froze, heart racing. “This… this isn’t real…”
“Oh, it’s very real,” Yuma whispered, pressing closer, their hands brushing against Taki’s as he instinctively reached to steady himself. “And you’re ours now.”
Weno leaned against Taki’s chest, tilting his head teasingly. “Yeah… we want attention. Lots of it,” he murmured, fingers lightly tracing the line of Taki’s arm. His warm proximity and soft purring vibrations—somehow still present—made Taki’s cheeks flush.
Taki’s breath hitches as Weno’s fingers dance along his arm, the gentle touch sending shivers down his spine. The purring vibrations are unfamiliar yet incredibly arousing coming from a human form. His hands finally land on Yuma’s hips instinctively.
“Stop... both of you...”
Yuma smirked, resting his forehead against Taki’s shoulder. “Bet you didn’t expect two cats that you handle gonna flirt with you like this, huh?” His voice was low and playful, teasing yet full of warmth.
Taki swallowed hard, but couldn’t help laughing. “I… I never thought—”
Weno interrupted, poking Taki’s cheek with a finger. “Then you should start expecting it.” His slow blink, that subtle, loving gesture, made Taki’s heart skip a beat. “You know you want to pet me.”
Taki’s laughter dies down as Weno’s finger trails along his cheek, leaving a burning path in its wake. His heart skips another beat when Weno blinks slowly at him, the gesture incredibly intimate despite its simplicity. He swallows hard again, his hands tightening slightly on Yuma’s hips.
Yuma leaned in, brushing a hand along Taki’s side, fingers grazing lightly, teasing yet comforting. “And me too,” he murmured. “We want all your attention.”
Taki’s laughter broke into a soft, incredulous sigh. “You’re… really… acting like cats… but… humans?”
“Exactly,” Weno said, pressing a cheek to Taki’s arm, and Yuma nudged him gently with his head, just like they used to do when they were cats. The gestures—playful, intimate, flirtatious—made Taki’s chest warm and heavy at the same time.
Hours passed in that quiet room. Taki, exhausted yet utterly captivated, let the boys curl against him, stroke their hair, and nuzzle him back. Their flirtatious touches were soft but insistent: a playful poke, a gentle brush of fingers, a teasing grin that made his heart flutter. Yuma and Weno communicated volumes without words—slow blinks, soft nudges, gentle pressure of a head against his shoulder.
Finally, leaning back with Yuma draped over one side and Weno pressed against his chest.
Taki looks down at the two of them, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment and affection. Yuma’s head rests on his shoulder, one arm thrown possessively over Taki’s waist. Weno’s face is buried in Taki’s chest, one leg thrown over Taki’s hips.
In that quiet evening, Taki realizes love can take many forms. Sometimes wrapped in fur with playful head bumps, sometimes in human form with noses pressed and slow blinks that say “I love you”, and sometimes both at once.
His breath catches slightly, eyes tracing the gentle curves of their faces. He reaches up unconsciously to stroke their hair, fingers remembering the feel of soft feline fur but finding human hair instead.
“Even if it’s in human form... you’re still my cats...” Taki mutters to himself inwardly.
He smiles softly, a genuine warmth spreading across his face. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to the top of Yuma’s head and then Weno’s, his heart swelling with affection.
“You know what? I never thought I’d say this, but I love having two human cats.”
Both boys freeze for a moment, then slowly tilt their heads up to look at Taki with identical expressions of pure joy and love. Yuma’s hand squeezes gently around Taki’s waist while Weno presses a soft kiss to Taki’s chest right over his heart.
“W-what are you doing?” Taki looked surprised by the way they treated him in their human form.
“Purring,” Yuma answers simply, nuzzling his face against Taki’s stomach.
“And marking,” Weno adds, nipping softly at Taki’s collarbone. He drags his teeth slowly, possessively down Taki’s neck and shoulder, leaving soft love bites.
Chapter II: When Cats Become Human
Taki shivers at the sensation, his breath catching. He can feel every little nip and kiss sending sparks of pleasure through him. He tilts his head to give Weno better access, his hands moving to hold both boys close.
“You’re not going to leave marks... are you?” Taki smiles, feeling a warmth spread through him that has nothing to do with the lingering pleasure of their shared moment. He reaches out to pull both men closer, sandwiching himself between them.
“Mm, too late,” Yuma chuckles softly, nuzzling lower. He lifted Taki’s shirt and licks his abs, his teeth nipping gently at the V cut of his hips.
“Once we start, we won’t be able to control how hard we bite.”
“And scratch marks,” Weno adds, his fingers digging gently into Taki’s sides as he nuzzles and bites at his neck.
“We’ll mark you up like our territory. Everyone will know you belong to two possessive cats.” Their hands start to roam possessively over his body.
“God,” Taki groans, his body wracking with shivers. He spreads his legs wider, his hips jerking slightly as if inviting more bites.
“You’re making me sound like a damn chew toy...”
He laughs softly, his head falling back as Weno bites his collarbone.
Weno sucks hard on Taki’s collarbone, leaving a dark mark. Yuma bites and sucks on his abs, leaving a trail of hickeys. Taki’s hands grip their hair tightly as they mark him up, his legs shaking. Suddenly, Yuma looks up with a mischievous grin.
“Hold still,” Yuma says, his fingers spreading Taki’s legs wider. Before Taki can protest or ask what he’s doing, Yuma bites down hard on his inner thigh, right near his crotch. Taki yelps in surprise and pleasure, his hands flying to push Yuma away.
“Mmf!” Taki moans loudly, his legs trembling. Weno watches in fascination as Yuma leaves a deep hickey near Taki’s crotch.
“Jesus,” Taki mutters, spreading his legs wider unconsciously.
Yuma climbs up Taki’s body, his face hovering above Taki’s crotch. He bites down hard on the sensitive skin, right where Taki’s crotch meets his balls. Taki screams, his hands gripping the sheets instead of pushing Yuma away this time.
“Fuck...”
Weno watches with wide eyes and a growing hardness as Yuma marks Taki so aggressively. He reaches out to run his fingers through Taki’s hair comforting him through the intense marking. Meanwhile, Yuma doesn’t stop there—he starts kissing and biting up Taki’s crotch.
“Yuma...”
Yuma sucks hard on Taki’s tip like a lollipop, leaving a mark. He then bites down on one of Taki’s upper hips sharply, making him jerk. He continues this pattern—kiss, bite, lick—down Taki’s happy trail.
Taki moans loudly. He realizes that Yuma and Weno are marking him like an animal. But yeah, they are.
“God,” he mutters, spreading his legs wider. “You two...” He laughs shakily, watching Yuma’s dark head between his legs.
Yuma looks up at Taki from between his spread legs. His dark eyes are hungry even though he already finished his bowl of wet food. He spreads Taki’s cheeks wider, his thumbs rubbing his hole. He then dives in, licking Taki’s length like a lollipop, from root to tip.
Taki’s back arches off the bed as Yuma licks and sucks on his crotch like it’s his favorite snack. Weno can’t take it anymore—he grabs Taki’s chin and crashes their mouths together in a rough kiss while Yuma starts bobbing his head faster on Taki’s crotch.
Weno pulls away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. He grabs Yuma by the hair and pulls him off Taki’s crotch with a wet pop.
“My turn,” he growls before diving between Taki’s legs himself.
Weno starts sucking Taki’s crotch like he’s starving. He goes deeper than Yuma did, taking the entire length down his throat. Taki moans loudly, his hips bucking uncontrollably. Yuma watches with hooded eyes, his own crotch leaking pre-cum onto the bed sheets.
Weno pulls off with a pop, leaving Taki’s sensitive crotch glistening. He looks up at Taki with a wicked smile before taking Taki’s crotch back into his mouth and starting to suck even harder, using his hand to pump the part he can’t fit.
“Shit...” Taki throws his head back, moaning loudly. “Damn, Weno...” He spreads his legs wider, unconsciously pushing his crotch deeper into Weno’s mouth. Yuma watches as Weno deep throats Taki like a pro.
Weno continues sucking Taki’s crotch with a hunger that leaves Yuma breathless. Soon, Taki starts moaning even louder, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.
“Weno... I'm gonna—” Before he can finish, he starts coming down Weno's throat.
Weno swallows every drop without gagging. He pulls off with another pop and licks his lips.
He looks up at Taki’s face, which is contorted with pleasure.
As Weno settles between Taki’s legs, Yuma climbs on top of Taki, straddling his hips. Without warning, he impales himself on Taki’s still-hard crotch, moaning loudly. At the same time, Weno starts sucking Taki’s balls gently. “Ahh! Fuck!”
Weno, seeing Yuma start to ride Taki, spits on his fingers and uses the saliva to lubricate his own crotch. He positions himself at Taki’s entrance, rubbing the head of his crotch against Taki’s hole before slowly pushing in.
Taki lets out a loud groan as Weno enters him, the sudden intrusion of both crotch overwhelming his senses. His hands grasp onto Yuma’s hips tightly as Yuma starts bouncing up and down on his crotch. Weno begins to thrust gently initially but quickly picks up pace,
“Holy shi—”
Yuma throws his head back, moaning loudly as Taki hits his prostate.
“Mmph!” His pace quickens, slamming down onto Taki’s length. Weno spreads Taki’s cheeks wider, watching his own length disappear inside Taki’s tight hole.
The combination of Yuma’s enthusiastic riding and Weno’s deep, pounding thrusts has Taki seeing stars. He’s being fucked front and back, completely stuffed. His moans become incoherent whimpers as both men set a brutal pace inside him.
“Argghh!”
Weno leans forward, wrapping his arms around Taki’s waist to get better leverage. He starts slamming into Taki harder and faster, his hips making a loud slapping sound against Taki’s ass. Yuma leans down to kiss Taki passionately, muffling his cries of pleasure.
Taki’s body trembles with pleasure, overwhelmed by the double penetration. His fingers dig into Yuma’s back as they kiss, while Weno’s deep thrusts make his whole body shake. The room fills with the symphony of moans, Wet slapping sounds, and the occasional choke of pleasure.
The triple stimulation becomes too much for the men. Yuma throws back his head, “Nngh! I’m gonna...” Weno growls, “Me too...” Taki bites his lip, “Ungh... Together...”
All three men grunt and moan in unison as they reach their peak together. Yuma spurts his load on Taki abs, while Weno fills Taki’s ass with his hot seed. Taki’s own crotch twitches and shoots deep inside Yuma.
Weno leans down to press soft kisses along Taki’s shoulder, while Yuma gently strokes Taki’s hair. The room is filled with the soft sounds of contented purring and gentle affectionate noises. Taki opens his eyes to see both men looking at him with adoration and love.
Taki smiles, feeling a warmth spread through him that has nothing to do with the lingering pleasure of their shared moment. He reaches out to pull both men closer, sandwiching himself between them.
“I love you guys.” The words come out easily now.
Both men simultaneously purr louder and nuzzle closer to Taki at his words, Weno placing a tender kiss on his temple, and Yuma pressing a gentle peck on his lips.
“We love you too, Taki-kun.” They whisper in unison, making Taki laugh softly, a mix of disbelief, awe, and warmth. Their touches, gentle nuzzles, and quiet gestures fill the room like a lullaby.
He closed his eyes, letting their purring—somehow still vibrating through human bodies—wash over him. In that not so quiet evening, with two human cats flirty, affectionate, and utterly devoted, Taki felt completely, utterly at peace.
END.
the continuation of the story: “The Door Where the Cats Wait: Epilogue 🔜”
Genre: BL, Fantasy Romance, Magical Realism, Supernatural Mystery—will evolve with additional elements in the next chapters.
WC: 1,784
Alone in the shelter, He fed sixty watchful cats. By nightfall, silence thickened; two strays curled in his lap, purring like they knew something he didn’t.
Taki works as a cat sitter, looking after more than sixty cats alongside his coworker, Jo. On most days, the routine feels exhausting but manageable—the steady rhythm of feeding, grooming, cleaning, and making sure every cat receives at least a little bit of attention. Jo’s chatter usually fills the room, making the long hours lighter. But one day, Jo calls in sick and doesn’t show up, leaving Taki to handle the sea of meows and padded footsteps on his own.
Normally, Taki’s shift ends at 5 PM, and at the latest he’d leave by 7—usually after scrubbing down the cat room, wiping the catio clean, then taking a quick shower and changing into fresh clothes. But that evening, alone in the quiet hum of purrs, Taki loses track of time. His body aches from bending, lifting, chasing kittens, and carrying food trays. His shirt is marked with paw prints and faint scratches. The smell of catnip lingers on his hands.
At some point, the day’s rhythm slows. The cats, restless earlier, settle into their corners. Two of them climb into his lap, their weight surprisingly warm, their purring steady as a heartbeat. His eyes grow heavy. The room, once buzzing with soft noises, seems to hush, almost too quiet.
Taki leans back against the wall, meaning only to close his eyes for a moment. But sleep drags him under, deeper than he intends. The last thing he remembers is the comforting press of fur against his legs, the rhythm of breath in and out, and the faint scratching sound—like claws on wood—that doesn’t seem to come from any of the cats he can see.
That’s the moment he remembers most vividly.
And the one he can never explain.
to be continued...
the continuation of the story: “The Door Where the Cats Wait”
this story is a continuation of “Confession Behind Closed Doors”
Priest!Jyo x Worshipper!Keng
Genre: Psychological Dark, Forbidden Romance, Coming of Age Drama, Slice of Life, Taboo, Religious Setting, Smut MXM 🔞
WC: 19,227
Discipline meets mischief, restraint meets desire—meant to follow the path, he didn’t expect someone to teach him how to live and how to love.
Chapter I: The Days We Borrowed
Flashback — Return to the Days of Youth.
The schoolyard carried the scent of cut grass and old wood from the classroom windows. Jo had walked through these gates countless times, but it was on the third Monday of the term that Yudai caught his wrist for the first time.
“Hey, you walk too fast,” Yudai said, tugging Jo back with a grin. The boy’s hair caught the morning sun, and his shirt was already untucked though the bell hadn’t even rung yet. “Slow down, Jo. No one’s chasing you.”
Jo didn’t know how to answer except with the small, awkward smile he always wore. He wasn’t used to people catching him mid-stride. He was used to moving alone—head down, books hugged against his chest, always on time, never late. But Yudai had a way of changing the air around him. He slowed it down, made everything feel like it could wait.
That day was the first of many where Yudai decided that Jo would no longer walk alone.
By the second week, Yudai had taught Jo how to eat spicy noodles without flinching, how to play cards in the back of the classroom when the teacher was late, and how to climb the side fence to sneak out during lunch. Jo wasn’t sure whether it was friendship or mischief, but Yudai’s laughter made everything feel less dangerous.
“You’re too serious,” Yudai would say, poking Jo’s temple with a pencil. “Like your brain doesn’t know how to relax.”
Jo wanted to tell him that there were reasons. That in a year, he wouldn’t be here. That he was bound for the seminary, that his parents had already decided, and he had agreed because he thought it was the right thing to do. But every time Yudai looked at him with that mischievous brightness, Jo swallowed the words back. He was learning how to borrow days without thinking of the debt.
One afternoon, Yudai dragged Jo to the old gym storage room, the one no teacher really checked. Dust clung to the nets and unused balls, and the single window spilled golden light across the floor.
“Why are we here?” Jo whispered, as if the walls themselves would scold him.
“Because it’s boring out there.” Yudai plopped down on a folded mat and patted the space next to him. “Sit. You think too much when you stand.”
Jo obeyed, hugging his knees. Yudai leaned back, hands behind his head, eyes half-closed. They sat in silence until Yudai cracked one eye open.
“Have you ever kissed anyone?”
Jo’s heart nearly stopped. “What?”
Yudai grinned. “Kiss. You know. Lips, not cheeks. Or are you too holy for that?”
Jo stammered. “I—I haven’t.”
“Want to learn?” Yudai said it like he was offering to teach him a new card trick. Casual, reckless.
Jo should have said no. He should have remembered the path already chosen for him. But instead, he nodded, just barely.
Yudai shifted closer, so close Jo could see the faint scar on his chin from some long-forgotten accident. His breath smelled faintly of soda. Then, without hesitation, Yudai pressed their lips together.
It was brief, almost clumsy, but Jo felt it down to his fingertips. Yudai pulled back, laughing softly.
“See? Not so scary.”
Jo didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to calm the storm inside his chest.
Days became weeks. Yudai found excuses to pull Jo into hidden corners, to share secrets, to laugh about things no one else would understand. They played basketball until the court lights flickered out, shared water bottles, scribbled notes in each other’s textbooks. Yudai taught Jo how to whistle through his fingers, how to cheat just enough on a test to pass, how to climb the tree behind the science building without getting caught.
“You need to live a little,” Yudai said one evening as they sat on the rooftop, the city stretching faintly beyond the horizon. “Books won’t remember you. People will.”
Jo wanted to tell him that people forget too. That vows and faith were heavier than laughter. But Yudai nudged his shoulder, and the words stayed locked inside.
Instead, Jo memorized the way Yudai’s voice sounded when he talked about the future—reckless, limitless, untethered. He stored those sounds like prayers he wasn’t supposed to say.
Winter crept in with sharp winds, and the school festival approached. Yudai insisted they sneak out after dark to hang lanterns early.
“No one will notice if two disappear,” he whispered, dragging Jo by the wrist again. His hand was warm despite the chill.
They hung lanterns along the courtyard, their breath fogging in the night air. At some point, Yudai climbed halfway up a tree and stretched to hang one higher. Jo reached up to steady him, hands brushing against Yudai’s calf.
“Careful,” Jo murmured.
Yudai glanced down, smirking. “You’ll catch me if I fall, right?”
Jo’s throat tightened. “Always.”
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
The night of the festival, Yudai shoved a candied apple into Jo’s hand.
“Sweet for the sweet,” he teased.
Jo smiled despite himself, but guilt clawed at his chest. Yudai didn’t know. He didn’t know that every borrowed day was temporary, that Jo was already half-gone in a future Yudai couldn’t touch.
As fireworks cracked above them, Jo tilted his head back to watch the bursts of color. Yudai leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder, easy and unthinking. Jo closed his eyes for a moment, pretending this was forever.
The weeks blurred together after that. Tests, laughter, stolen kisses in empty classrooms. Yudai’s voice teaching him to shout at soccer games, to skip stones across the river, to laugh even when the world pressed heavy on his shoulders.
But always, in the back of Jo’s mind, the truth remained: he was not meant to stay. He was meant to leave, to wear a different kind of uniform, to devote himself elsewhere. The seminary wasn’t just a choice—it was the path carved for him.
And so, when Yudai asked one night, “You’ll be here with me next year, right?” Jo froze.
The answer caught in his throat, heavy as stone. He forced a smile, forced his voice steady. “Of course.”
—
One day, during the annual school sports competition, the sun hung low over the track, casting long shadows across the field. Students from different classes cheered loudly, waving banners and shouting encouragements that mingled into a roaring symphony.
Jo had just crossed the finish line as the last runner of his team, baton clutched tight, chest heaving with exertion. The relay was won, and the crowd erupted in cheers, but Jo barely registered it. His eyes immediately searched the sidelines, and there was Yudai, poised, alert, and smiling with that familiar mix of excitement and quiet authority.
Before the race, as Jo had rounded the slippery curve, Yudai had given him the subtle gesture: a hand raised, a slight nod, a silent signal to slow down. Instead of saying ‘you can do it’, Yudai had mouthed ‘stay calm’, and even while running Jo still nodded to him, keeping his footing even as the track slickened beneath him. That small act of guidance had felt grounding, reassuring, a tether in the rush of adrenaline.
Now, as Jo’s feet landed firmly past the finish line, Yudai didn’t hesitate. He broke into a full sprint, cutting through the crowd noise, arms pumping, grin wide.
“Jo!” he called, his voice cutting through the roar of the cheering students.
Jo’s chest still heaving, he barely had time to react before Yudai collided into him, throwing his arms around him. They hugged tight, laughter and breathless gasps mingling in the golden afternoon light. Jo could feel Yudai’s warmth, the steady beat of his chest, and the familiar strength in his embrace.
“You’re insane,” Jo laughed, pulling back slightly, still holding Yudai.
“Maybe,” Yudai replied, teasing, “but you always finish strong. I knew you would.”
Jo pressed his forehead against Yudai’s, cheeks warm. “I… yeah, I guess…” His voice trailed, caught between exhilaration and something heavier, something that lingered in the warmth of Yudai’s presence.
For that fleeting moment, the track, the competition, and the crowd’s cheers faded. There was only Yudai, the quiet confidence in his smile, the subtle guidance that had kept Jo safe on the bend, and the unspoken trust—and closeness—that neither dared to name.
But in the silence that followed, Jo felt the lie burn hotter than any kiss they had shared.
That night, Jo lay awake staring at the ceiling, Yudai’s laughter echoing in his mind. His chest hurt with the weight of all he couldn’t say.
He loved Yudai. He knew it now, knew it in every quiet glance, every borrowed day. But love wasn’t enough to stop what was already written.
Part II: Between Faith and Fire
Present — After the Confession.
The storage room was silent except for the faint rustle of robes and the distant echo of footsteps in the nave. Faint candlelight flickered against shelves stacked with wax, silver chalices, and bottles of communion wine. The scent of incense lingered, mixing with the subtle metallic tang of the stored vessels, creating a heady atmosphere that seemed charged with the weight of centuries.
Yudai lingered just inside the doorway, fingers brushing lightly over the rough edge of a wooden shelf. His chest tightened as he watched Jo move, serene and composed in the priestly robes, his hands arranging a row of polished chalices with deliberate care. Every small motion held a grace that made Yudai’s pulse stutter, drawing his eyes despite himself.
“Jo…” Yudai’s voice was low, hesitant, trembling, breaking the quiet in a way that seemed almost sacrilegious. “I… I needed to see you. I couldn’t… not come.”
Jo looked up, eyes meeting his across the narrow aisle of stored sacraments. There was a pause—a breath held between them, fragile, electric. The calm, measured expression betrayed nothing, yet the tension in the air was palpable.
“You came,” Jo murmured, voice soft, smooth, deliberate. “Even knowing… everything. Even knowing what this… could mean.”
Yudai swallowed, stepping closer, boots clicking softly against the stone floor. The warmth from the candles made his skin tingle, heat pooling low in his stomach. “I… I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, voice breaking slightly. “Not just the memory of us… not just the past. It’s… you. It’s always been you.”
Jo’s lips curved in a ghost of a smile, eyes darkening subtly. “Yudai… you shouldn’t feel this way. You know the rules. You know the line we can’t cross.”
“I don’t care,” Yudai whispered, advancing a step, fingers brushing lightly along the shelf, imagining his touch along Jo’s arm. “I… I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
The faint rustle of robes indicated Jo moving slightly closer, yet still measured, still careful. “Yudai…” he murmured, low, deliberate, almost a warning, almost a temptation. “This… isn’t the confessional. Not exactly. But… even here, you must understand the risk.”
“And that’s exactly why it’s perfect,” Yudai replied, heat rising, voice taut with desire. “Because it’s forbidden. Because it’s… impossible. I want… I want to touch you. I want… you.”
The air seemed to tighten between them. Shelves full of sacred objects bore silent witness as Yudai closed the distance, heart hammering, fingertips brushing Jo’s robe, tracing the line of the arm in tentative contact. Jo inhaled sharply but did not withdraw; the priestly composure wavered only in the slightest tremble of a hand.
“You remember… before,” Yudai said, voice low, almost a whisper. “Back when… we were younger? When… you let me teach you… so many things?”
Jo’s calm voice softened, carrying warmth Yudai hadn’t expected to hear. “I remember,” he admitted, careful, deliberate. “More than I probably should. You… guided me. Taught me to feel. Taught me… about closeness, about… intimacy.”
A shiver ran down Yudai’s spine. He stepped closer, brushing his palm along Jo’s chest, feeling the subtle heat through the robes. “I… never stopped thinking about it,” he confessed, voice thick. “About you. About us… about the way it felt when you let me…”
Jo’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly. “Yudai… you know I…” His words faltered, replaced by the faint sound of movement as he shifted, bringing the two of them closer. The shelf pressed lightly against Yudai’s back, confining them in a narrow, charged space.
The first touch came as a deliberate, electric brush of fingertips along the priest’s forearm. Jo’s hand trembled slightly before resting lightly against Yudai’s chest, steadying, measuring, holding him in place. “Do you… really want this?” he asked, voice low, careful. “Even here, even now?”
“I do,” Yudai breathed, tilting his head up to meet Jo’s gaze. “I want you. I can’t fight it. I’ve… waited too long.”
A faint, deliberate pause. Then Jo’s hands moved, brushing along Yudai’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “Then… we will,” he murmured. “But slowly. Carefully. We have… time.”
Yudai pressed against him, heat and longing blooming low in his stomach. He could feel the tension coiling in Jo’s body, restrained but present, matching his own. Lips brushed lightly, testing, teasing, tentative. Every small movement ignited sparks that raced along his skin.
The first kiss was soft, careful, exploratory. Yudai leaned fully, pressing his lips against Jo’s, tasting the restraint, the patience, the subtle warmth. Jo responded, deliberate, coaxing, every motion measured but full of electric promise.
Hands roamed cautiously, brushing along backs, tracing the contours under robes. Yudai’s fingers grazed the curve of Jo’s waist, eliciting a faint, controlled breath. Jo’s hands slid to his shoulders, guiding, pressing, pulling him closer, tethering the desire.
“You’re… mine,” Jo murmured, voice low, intimate, grounding. “And I… am yours.”
Yudai shivered, heat coiling in his core. “I… I’ve waited for this,” he admitted, voice rough. “I can’t… I can’t stop.”
The first layer of clothes came away slowly, deliberately, hands exploring, teasing, testing boundaries. Jo pressed him gently against a shelf, Yudai’s knees brushing the wood, body flush against warmth. The sacred smell of incense and wax mixed with the scent of their skin, heavy and intoxicating.
Fingers brushed along torsos, lips found skin, kisses growing in intensity, urgency blooming. Yudai’s hands fisted in Jo’s robes, pulling him closer, testing the restraint, reveling in the forbidden closeness.
His robes fall to the floor, leaving him bare-chested against Yudai. Jo hands slide up Yudai thighs, lifting Yudai higher against him as he kisses Yudai deeply. The candles flicker around them, casting shadows on the sacred walls as their bodies press together more intimately than ever before. “Jo...”
Jo breaks the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down Yudai jaw and neck, his hands gripping Yudai thighs tightly. He grinds against Yudai deliberately, letting him feel his arousal. One hand slides up to cup Yudai face while the other starts unbuckling his belt slowly. “Yudai...”
He unbuckles Yudai belt and lets his pants fall to the floor. He kicks them aside, his eyes never leaving Yudai. He lifts Yudai up slightly higher, pressing his hardness against Yudai core through his underwear. “God, Jo... I can’t wait any longer.”
“Do… you feel it?” Jo whispered, voice thick with desire. “The pull? The… heat?”
Yudai’s reply was low, deliberate, almost a growl.
“I feel it… every inch of it.”
“Like this?”
Jo grinds against Yudai again, making Yudai moan softly.
“Or this?” Jo pulls Yudai underwear aside slightly, rubbing the tip against his entrance.
“Damn it, Jo...” Yudai growls lowly, his forehead resting on Jo.
“You make me want to...”
Yudai doesn't finish the sentence, instead capturing Jo lips in a fierce kiss as Jo pushes inside Yudai slowly. The storage room fills with the sounds of their heavy breathing and soft moans, the sacred space now a temple of desire.
Jo thrusts deeper, a low groan escaping his lips. “Fuck, Jo... I swear, you feel so goddamn good.” Jo pulls out slowly before slamming back into Yudai, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. “Yours like... fucking heaven.”
The candles shake violently as Jo pounds into Yudai, the incense and wax smell mixing with the musk of sex. “Gonna cum inside you... gonna fill this holy hole with my essence...”
With a final brutal thrust, Jo comes deep inside Yudai, his buldge pulsing as he floods the worshipper’s hole with his hot seed. He kisses Yudai roughly, swallowing his moans as he keeps fucking him through his orgasm. “Take it all, you holy sinful tempter...”
Jo pulls out slowly, his seed dripping down Yudai’s between thighs. He watches the sight with a mix of awe and dirty satisfaction before suddenly spinning Yudai around and bending him over the shelf.
“Spread your legs, worshipper. I'm not done yet.”
He enters Yudai from behind, his hands reaching around to grab Yudai’s cock and start stroking it roughly in sync with his thrusts. He fucks him brutally against the shelf, knocking over candles and wine bottles as he takes Jo like a desperate man possessed. “God forgive me...”
They moved with careful intensity, bodies pressing, lips claiming, hands exploring. Each touch was a confession, a release, a claim. Every sigh and breath mingled, echoing softly off the walls stacked with sacred objects, turning the storage room into their private sanctum.
The slow build of desire gave way to urgent need. Jo’s hands pressed along Yudai’s back, guiding him, coaxing him to kneel. Every motion deliberate, controlled, and yet full of primal insistence. Yudai obeyed, pressing closer, responding with heat and want, letting the memory of past restraints fuel the present fire.
“God… wants you to let go,” Jo whispered, lips brushing along his ear. “Not for the sin… but for the… release. For the feeling. For… us.”
Yudai trembled, submitting fully to the tension, the heat, the forbidden ecstasy. Every whispered word from Jo, every gentle but firm touch, every measured kiss, tore down years of restraint. Desire burned unchecked, raw and insistent, echoing in the narrow room, between rows of chalices and stacked candles, sacred and profane intertwined.
Finally, they collapsed together against the shelves, the world outside ceasing to exist. Breath ragged, hearts pounding, heat and need mingling, the air thick with unspoken confessions, unrepented sins, and long-buried longing. Jo’s hands held him steady, patient yet insistent, coaxing release, tethering them in the moment, binding desire with intimacy and dangerous passion.
The storage room, centuries-old, quiet, and sacred, became their sanctuary, a hidden chamber of indulgence and reclamation. They moved together, careful but unrestrained, each motion, each kiss, each brush of skin a testament to their long-denied hunger.
When at last they rested, limbs entwined, breaths mingling, Yudai pressed his forehead against Jo’s chest, hearing the steady heartbeat beneath the priestly robes. “I… never stopped,” he whispered. “Not once.”
Jo’s hands threaded through his hair, holding him close. “Neither did I,” he murmured. “And now… now we are here. Together. For this moment.”
Outside, the church remained silent. Sacred, untouchable, oblivious. Inside, desire, sin, and absolution merged in a private harmony, leaving both men spent, satisfied, and inexorably bound.
Tatapan jadi api, jarak jadi abu. Malam itu mereka bertiga menyatu—liar, panas, tak ada rencana, hanya percikan yang tumbuh jadi kobaran. Dalam dekap bonceng tiga, mereka temukan nikmat yang berbahaya bikin gila.
“Kok kamu tiba-tiba ke sini?,”
Jo menggaruk tengkuknya canggung.
“Maksud aku, bukannya gak boleh ke sini, tapi… maaf aku gak bales DM kamu.”
Yuma mengerutkan dahi. Bingung. Karena ia jelas-jelas melihat balasan Jo di layar ponselnya kemarin.
“Hah? Gimana? Kapan kamu gak bales?”
Jo balik menatapnya dengan ekspresi sama bingungnya.
“Hah?”
“Hah?”
Keduanya saling memantul dengan kata yang sama, sampai-sampai ruangan itu dipenuhi keheningan bercampur program tahan tawa.
Akhirnya Yuma menghela napas dan merogoh ponselnya. Ia membuka chat, memperlihatkan isi balasan Jo.
“Ini. Kamu yang bales kan? Kamu gak lagi mabok pas ngetik ini kan? Siapa yang berani-beraninya bikin kamu mabok, Jo?”
Jo mencondongkan tubuh, membaca dengan seksama. Alisnya mengernyit.
“Enggak kok. Aku gak mabok, bukan aku yang bales sumpah.”
Ia buru-buru mengeluarkan ponselnya sendiri, membuka percakapan yang sama, lalu menunjukkannya pada Yuma.
“Lihat, gak ada kan?”
Yuma menatap layar Jo, lalu balik lagi ke layar ponselnya sendiri. Dua dunia berbeda. Pesan ada di satu, hilang di lainnya.
Keheningan menebal di antara mereka, sebelum akhirnya Yuma memecahnya.
“Kemarin kamu sama siapa di apart?”
“Taki.” jawab Jo singkat.
Mendengar nama itu, Yuma reflek menutup wajahnya dengan telapak tangan. Antara malu, frustasi, dan pasrah.
“Pantes.” gumamnya singkat.
Jo mengangkat alis. “Kenapa? Emang kenapa kalo Taki?”
Yuma menurunkan tangannya, menatap Jo lekat-lekat. “Berarti kemungkinan besar dia yang balesin DM kamu, siapa lagi coba?”
Jo terdiam. Ingatan samar tentang Taki yang tiba-tiba pamit pulang setelah memegang ponselnya kemarin sore mulai menyeruak. Ah, brengsek.
Jo ingin menjelaskan, tapi bibirnya kelu. Yang keluar justru senyum kecil tak berdaya. “Aku… astaga, Taki itu…”
“Troublemaker final boss.” potong Yuma.
Jo mengangguk pelan. Dan entah kenapa, di antara keruwetan itu, Yuma malah tertawa kecil. Tawa yang hangat, tulus, yang membuat Jo ikut tersenyum. Rasanya seperti dulu lagi.
Beberapa menit kemudian, mereka masih duduk berdampingan di sofa. Awkward. Hening. Hanya terdengar suara AC dan detak jantung mereka yang seakan saling bersahutan.
“Jadi… kenapa kamu datang?” tanya Jo lagi, kali ini lebih pelan.
Yuma menoleh, menatap Jo lama-lama. Tatapan itu penuh dengan sesuatu yang tak terucap—rindu, marah, lega, cinta, semuanya bercampur.
“Aku… cuma pengen ketemu. Balesan kamu itu bikin aku mikir… ternyata kamu masih… peduli. Eh, gak taunya si Taki.”
Jo membuang pandangan. Hatinya terjepit. Ia ingin berkata, ‘Aku gak pernah berhenti peduli.’ Tapi lidahnya kelu, seperti biasa.
Alih-alih kata-kata, Yuma tiba-tiba bergerak. Ia mendekat, tangannya mendarat di pipi Jo, lalu bibirnya menempel cepat.
Ciuman itu sederhana, singkat—tapi menghantam Jo seperti gelombang. Ia membeku sepersekian detik, sebelum akhirnya menutup mata dan membalasnya.
Satu ciuman berubah menjadi dua. Dua menjadi tiga. Tiga tambah satu sama dengan empat. Semakin lama semakin dalam, semakin berani. Nafas mereka berbaur, tubuh merapat tanpa sadar.
Yuma merasakan tangan Jo gemetar saat menyentuh punggungnya. Ragu, tapi ingin. Sama persis seperti dulu—seperti Jo yang selalu penuh perasaan tapi jarang pandai menunjukkan.
“Jo…” bisik Yuma di sela napas. “Kamu… masih mau aku?”
Jo menatapnya, matanya sayu, suara tercekat. “Aku… gak pernah berhenti. Soalnya gak ada rambu-rambu dilarang berhenti sepanjang jalan ini.”
Kata-kata itu sederhana, tapi jujur. Yuma hampir saja runtuh seketika. Meskipun aslinya pengen gaplok, ni orang belajar kata-kata begitu dari siapa dah?
Tanpa pikir panjang, ia kembali meraih bibir Jo, kali ini lebih berapi-api.
Jo membalas, tubuhnya condong, menarik Yuma lebih dekat. Tangan mereka saling menggenggam, saling mencari. Ada kerinduan yang menumpuk bertahun-tahun, kini meledak dalam hitungan menit.
Sofa berderit halus saat mereka saling menekan, saling melepas rindu lewat ciuman yang panjang dan terburu-buru.
Dan di momen itu—
Tok tok tok.
Ketukan pintu terdengar.
Keduanya terperanjat. Nafas tersengal, wajah memerah. Jo bangkit separuh, bingung, lalu berjalan ke pintu.
Begitu ia buka—di sana berdiri Taki, dengan plastik belanjaan di tangannya dan senyum sebentar lagi berubah jadi nakal.
“Wahhh, timing gue kayaknya pas banget ya?” ujarnya sambil melirik ke arah Yuma yang masih di sofa dengan bibir sedikit bengkak.
Jo langsung mendesah frustasi. “Taki… lu—”
“Gue cuma mau balikin payung.” sahutnya cepat, lalu melenggang masuk tanpa izin. “Eh tapi kayaknya ada tontonan bonus.”
Taki meletakkan plastik di meja, duduk santai di kursi sebelah sofa, dan menatap mereka berdua bergantian. Senyumnya lebar, matanya penuh rasa usil.
“Gue gak nyangka… ternyata prank gue kemarin berhasil ya? Selamat ya.”
Jo mengerutkan dahi. “Prank apaan?”
“Ya… DM itu.” jawab Taki santai. “Gue cuma bales iseng. Eh ternyata Yuma beneran dateng cuy.”
Yuma melempar bantal ke arahnya. “Tai dah lu.”
Tapi Taki justru tertawa lepas. “Eh tapi, coba liat sisi positifnya… sekarang kalian udah saling ketemu lagi kan? Dan jelas masih ada api di antara kalian, tinggal disiram bensin dikit duarrr nmax.”
Jo dan Yuma saling berpandangan. Tak bisa menyangkal. Api itu bahkan sedang menyala terang di dada mereka sekarang.
Taki bersandar, melipat tangan di belakang kepala. Senyumnya berubah jadi lebih nakal, lebih dalam.
“Kalo gitu… gue anggap aja misi gue sukses. Jadi…” ia menoleh ke Yuma, lalu ke Jo, “mau gue keluar lagi biar kalian bisa lanjut? Atau…” ia sengaja menggantung kalimatnya, nada suaranya penuh godaan.
Keheningan menggantung. Yuma menggigit bibir, Jo mengusap wajahnya dengan tangan. Ada sesuatu yang tak pernah mereka rencanakan, tapi tiba-tiba terasa mungkin.
Dan dalam hening itu, Yuma berdeham kecil. “Kamu sadar kan, Jo… kalau gak ada Taki, mungkin kita gak akan duduk bareng kayak gini lagi?”
Jo melirik Taki, lalu kembali ke Yuma. Perlahan ia mengangguk. “Aku tau.”
Yuma menghela napas panjang. Senyumnya samar. “Yaudah… kalau gitu… mungkin udah waktunya Taki juga dapat ‘jatah’.”
Ucapan itu membuat Jo terbelalak. “Hah??”
Taki malah bersiul pelan. “Anjay GG.” Matanya berkilat, penuh antusias.
Jo melirik ke arah Yuma, keningnya berkerut.
“Eh bentar, serius kamu mau? Aku kayak… gak yakin aja,” katanya setengah ketawa canggung, tapi jelas ada keraguan di nada suaranya.
Yuma malah nyengir santai, sikutnya nyender ke bantal.
“Kenapa gak yakin? Kamu takut, Jo?”
“Bukan takut sih, lebih ke… aneh aja. Aku gak nyangka kamu kepikiran beginian,” Jo ngedumel, masih nyoba nyari logika. “Kamu tuh beneran serius apa cuma nge-prank aku?”
Yuma geleng, matanya serius tapi senyumnya gak ilang.
“Aku kelihatan lagi bercanda kah?”
Jo ngelirik sekilas ke Taki yang udah kelihatan excited sendiri, matanya sampai berkilat waktu ngedengar semua obrolan barusan.
“Gila sih,” Jo geleng-geleng, masih gak percaya. “Yum, kamu beneran mau? Maksud aku, ini kan—”
“Jo,” Yuma potong kalimatnya pelan tapi tegas. “Aku yang minta. Aku yang pengen. Jadi kamu gak usah mikirin aneh-aneh.”
Jo diem beberapa detik, matanya masih menunggu kata-kata lain apa yang akan keluar dari mulut Yuma—seolah mencari tanda jika dia sedang bercanda. Tapi yang dia dapat justru tatapan yakin—tenang tapi jelas penuh keinginan.
“…Kamu serius banget, ya?” akhirnya Jo bersuara lagi, nadanya lebih pelan.
Yuma mengangguk.
Jo duduk bersandar, tubuhnya jadi penopang penuh untuk Taki. Dari balik dekapannya, Jo bisa merasakan setiap tarikan napas cepat Taki, panas tubuh mereka bertaut erat. Lengan Jo melingkari pinggang Taki, menahan sekaligus mengarahkan gerakan agar tetap teratur, tetap intim.
Napas Jo semakin berat saat ia menyaksikan pemandangan di hadapannya, cengkeramannya di pinggul Taki sedikit mengencang. Ia bisa melihat setiap detail tubuh Yuma yang menerima setiap dorongan, bagaimana gerakan mereka tersinkronisasi dengan sempurna. Jo sedikit mencondongkan tubuh ke depan untuk mendapatkan pandangan yang lebih baik, gairahnya sendiri semakin kuat.
Di depan mereka, Yuma—tubuhnya sedikit bergetar. Posisi membungkuk membuat punggungnya melengkung indah, rambutnya jatuh menutupi sebagian wajah. Napasnya pecah-pecah, penuh harap sekaligus gentar.
Taki mendekat, tubuhnya bergerak pelan ke arah Yuma. Ada jeda hening, hanya terdengar desahan dan degup jantung yang bertabrakan. Saat akhirnya Taki masuk, Yuma menggigil hebat, kepalanya terangkat sejenak sebelum terbenam kembali di lipatan lengannya. Suara lirih meluncur dari bibirnya, setengah keluhan, setengah permohonan.
Jo mencengkeram lebih erat pinggang Taki, menahan agar tidak terburu-buru. Dari balik posisinya, Jo bisa melihat jelas bagaimana tubuh Yuma menerima setiap gerakan, bagaimana rasa sakit bercampur nikmat perlahan meluruh menjadi kepasrahan penuh.
Ritme mereka jadi semakin dalam, terhubung dalam satu tarikan benang tak kasat mata. Jo mengatur, Taki mengikuti, Yuma menyerah.
Rangkaian bonceng tiga berlanjut, Taki mendapati dirinya dalam posisi di mana ia ditembus oleh Jo dan menembus Yuma secara bersamaan, menciptakan lingkaran kenikmatan dan keintiman yang sempurna. Ruangan itu dipenuhi erangan dan desahan.
Pikiran Taki kosong karena kenikmatan yang luar biasa saat ia tersandwich di antara Jo dan Yuma. Ia bisa merasakan setiap inci tubuh mereka di dalam dan di luar dirinya secara bersamaan. Tangannya meraih apa pun yang bisa ia genggam—rambut Jo dan bahu Yuma—saat ia tenggelam dalam sensasi itu.
Di tengah panasnya suasana, Taki tiba-tiba bersuara, suaranya serak penuh hasrat.
“J-jo... lebih keras... Tahan aku lebih kenceng, ya… ahh! Terusin, jangan berhenti.”
Tak mampu lagi mengendalikan diri, Taki mulai membelai Yuma perlahan dan memberinya combo, sementara Jo masih memegang Taki dan menyaksikan Yuma disetubuhi dengan combo. Tangan Jo yang lain terulur untuk menjambak rambut Taki, menggunakannya sebagai daya ungkit sambil mulai menghentakkan pinggulnya sedikit, membayangkan dirinya yang memasuki Yuma.
Mata Yuma menggelap penuh nafsu saat ia terus dihujami Taki, napasnya tersengal-sengal. Ia bisa merasakan panas yang menjalar di tubuhnya saat ia merasakan gerakan Taki dan Jo yang seirama semakin cepat, menyamai erangan nya.
Tangan Taki mencengkeram erat pinggul Yuma dan paha Jo, merasakan keduanya menegang di sekelilingnya. Dengan dorongan kuat terakhir dari ketiganya, mereka mencapai klimaks secara bersamaan. Taki bisa merasakan kehangatan yang melegakan di dalam—begitu pun dengan Yuma—disaat mereka bertiga mencapai klimaks bersamaan.
Masih terhubung, Taki mencondongkan tubuh untuk mengecup bibir Jo sambil memainkan milik Yuma yang sensitif dengan satu tangan. Jo membalas ciumannya dalam-dalam sementara Yuma merintih keenakan. Taki melepaskan ciumannya dan berbisik,
“Kalian masih ngaceng?”
Jo mengangguk penuh semangat, masih keras di dalam Taki. Yuma mengerang dan mengangguk juga, penisnya yang agak keras berdenyut-denyut karena sentuhan Taki. Taki menyeringai dan mulai menggesekkan penis mereka berdua perlahan, sudah keras lagi.
Taki perlahan menarik diri dari Jo dan Yuma, membuat mereka merintih karena tiba-tiba merasa kosong. Ia berbalik dan mendorong Yuma hingga telentang sebelum menelungkupkan wajahnya dengan gaya koboi terbalik. Lalu ia membimbing Jo untuk duduk di belakangnya, memasukinya dari belakang.
“Kalian berdua...”
Jo mulai menghujami lubang Taki maju mundur, sambil Taki menurunkan tubuhnya ke wajah Yuma. Menyetubuhi wajah Yuma. Yuma dengan penuh semangat mulai menjilati dan mengisap milik Taki, sementara Jo mendorongnya. Taki mengerang keras,
“Ahh... gitu terus... genjot gue lebih kenceng, Jo...”
Dia mulai bergaya layaknya bos—mendominasi.
Ada sesuatu yang nyaris suci dalam cara mereka saling mengisi—liar, panas, tapi juga lembut, seolah dunia di luar lenyap dan hanya ada mereka bertiga.
Mereka berpisah karena miskomunikasi, tapi rasa itu tak pernah padam. Satu balasan singkat cukup untuk menyalakan kembali bara yang berubah jadi rindu panas tak terbendung.
Jo adalah mantan pacar Yuma, sementara Taki adalah teman dekat mereka berdua. Hubungan Jo dan Yuma kandas bukan karena hilangnya rasa, melainkan karena kesalahpahaman dan kurangnya komunikasi.
Padahal, jauh di dalam hati, Jo masih menyayangi Yuma—begitu juga sebaliknya. Hanya saja, Jo bukan tipe orang yang pandai mengungkapkan isi hatinya secara terang-terangan.
Sampai akhirnya, pada suatu sore, Yuma tiba-tiba muncul lagi di akun media sosialnya setelah berbulan-bulan menghilang. Story yang ia unggah hanyalah video challenge TikTok dari idolanya yang baru aja comeback. Jo, yang sebenarnya juga jarang online, tak sengaja melihatnya. Refleks, tanpa banyak pikir, ia membalas story itu.
“Sekarang kerja di mana?”
Pertanyaan klise yang terasa menyebalkan bila lama tak bersua, tetapi itulah Jo—tidak pandai basa-basi. Ia hanya menuliskan apa yang muncul di kepalanya saat itu.
“Usaha sendiri.”
Notifikasi itu langsung membuat Jo mengetik balasan lain.
“Usaha apa kalau boleh tau?”
Balasan Yuma menyusul cepat, dan kali ini membuat dada Jo seperti ditusuk.
“Usaha sendiri. Selama ini kan aku juga berusaha sendiri.”
DEG!!!
Jo terdiam. Kata-kata itu menancap dalam, membuat lidahnya kelu, jempolnya gemetar.
Di sebelahnya, Taki yang sedang asyik ngemil lidi-lidian gak pedes—heran melihat ekspresi Jo.
“Kenapa?” tanyanya sambil melirik.
Jo menoleh, lalu memperlihatkan ponselnya. “Ohhh…” gumamnya pendek.
Taki langsung menyambar ponsel Jo, pura-pura membaca pesan itu. Jo berdalih izin ke toilet, meninggalkan ponselnya di tangan Taki. Bibir Taki terangkat nakal, lalu ia pun mengetikkan sebuah balasan iseng.
“Aku ada nih kerjaan, mau?”
Yuma membaca pesan itu dengan kening berkerut. Balasan Jo yang seakan acuh tak acuh justru membuat darahnya mendidih. Namun di sisi lain, ia memang sedang membutuhkan pekerjaan. Akhirnya, ia pun mengetikkan jawaban.
“Kerja apa?”
“Ngelas.”
“Jangan bilang ngelas bawah laut? Gue udah tahu gajinya gede, masalahnya napas gue senin kamis.”
“Kan ada tabung oksigen.”
“Gue mendingan ngangkat tabung gas elpiji.”
“Tapi serius…”
“Serius apa? Kita udah bubar, Jo.”
“Serius ngelas.”
“Maksud???”
“Ngelas ngelus kontol. Mau?”
Taki menahan tawanya. Kemudian menghapus seluruh pesan balasan tersebut, bahkan ia memberikan jadwal Jo, setiap hari apa ia berada di rumah. Itu semua tanpa Jo ketahui.
Yang Jo tau adalah—ia sendiri yang dengan sengaja menghosting pesan Yuma. Karena ia tidak tau bagaimana harus mendeskripsikan situasi mereka saat itu.
Sesungguhnya Jo sangat mencintai Yuma, mungkin seluruh dunia sudah tau itu. Tapi Jo tidak baik dalam kata-kata—dalam bagaimana seharusnya dia memberitahu seluruh dunia jika dia begitu menyayangi Yuma dan bahkan rela memberikan seisi dunia jika itu perlu.
Sedangkan, Yuma memutuskan Jo secara sepihak karena ia berpikir bahwa Jo tidak benar-benar mencintainya karena sikap Jo terhadapnya.
Padahal itu memang personality Jo, tidak banyak bicara—tidak pandai berkata-kata. Ketika kenyataannya mereka masih sama-sama saling mencintai, hanya saja dikarenakan komunikasi mereka yang kayak tai.
Yuma tertegun melihat balasan Jo—ia merasa jika Jo bukanlah Jo yang dulu lagi dan merasa tertantang dengan balasan itu.
Di sisi lain, Taki menahan tawa dan meletakan ponsel Jo di atas meja. Sebelum akhirnya meletakan stick ps digenggamannya dan tiba-tiba pamit pulang. Mama udah nyariin katanya.
Keesokan hari, di hari Selasa ketika Jo tidak memiliki kegiatan apapun—ia hanya bersantai di rumah, benar-benar seorang home body. Sampai suara bel apartment nya membuyarkan lamunannya di ruang tamu. Ia berjalan ke arah pintu utama dan membukanya, mendapatkan Yuma berada di sana.
“Kamu datang?”
Yuma tidak mengeluarkan sepatah kata, ia menyerbu masuk ke dalam. Melepas sepatunya, mengganti dengan sendal rumah dan berjalan ke arah ruang tamu. Jo mengekorinya. Yuma duduk di sofa ruang tamu, diikuti Jo yang duduk di sebelahnya. Yuma menengok ke arahnya, mereka bertatapan sekilas
“Kenapa?” tambah Jo.
Alih-alih menjawab pertanyaan Jo, Yuma malah menanamkan ciuman di bibir Jo. Jo terkisap, bukannya tidak senang. Ia bahkan sangat senang sekali dengan hal tiba-tiba yang dilakukan Yuma.
Jo pun membalas ciuman yang semakin lama semakin memanas. Tangan yuma mulai bergerak ke daerah lain di tubuh Jo, ke salah satu organ vitalnya—kemaluan. Yang tanpa malu-malu ikut mengeras seiring kegiatan panas yang mereka lakukan. Siapa yang berpikir akan panasnya api neraka ketika mereka sudah tidak berada di state tanpa akal yang sehat?
Yuma mengelas ngelusnya dari luar celana. Lagi-lagi Jo terkisap—tetapi ia menikmati setiap detik itu. Membiarkan Yuma menggerayanginya—miliknya semakin mengeras, sekeras kepala Yuma.
Sampai akhirnya Yuma menyelipkan tangannya ke dalam celana training Jo. Wajah Jo meringis kenikmatan saat Yuma menggenggam kemaluannya yang mengeras, memompanya perlahan pada awalnya sebelum menambah kecepatan.
Jo menggigit bibir untuk menahan erangan, tangan Yuma mencengkeram pedal Jo erat-erat. Seperti takut itu akan lepas landas. Brengsek... Jo membuka—menurunkan celananya, agar tangan Yuma lebih mudah mengaksesnya.
Mata Jo berputar ke belakang saat Yuma melanjutkan karya tangannya, pinggul Jo tanpa sadar terangkat mengikuti setiap gerakan yang Yuma buat. Tiba-tiba, Jo menahan tangan Yuma. Mengangkat Yuma kepangkuannya.
“Cukup, aku butuh lebih.”
Jo mengangkat Yuma kepangkuannya, menurunkan sedikit celana Yuma kemudian meludahi tangannya dan membalurkan di kemaluannya sebelum memasukan miliknya yang keras besar dan panjang pada Yuma.
Tangan Jo mencengkeram pinggang Yuma erat-erat saat Yuma memantul di atasnya, pinggul Jo terangkat menyambut Yuma di setiap gerakan. Suara tamparan basah menggema di ruang tamu.
Jo bersandar, napasnya tersengal-sengal saat Yuma menghentakkannya lebih keras. Tangan Jo bergerak ke pinggul Yuma, memandu gerakan dan menarik Yuma lebih dalam lagi. Sofa berderit karena kekuatan gerakan Yuma, dan suara tamparan itu semakin keras dan intens.
Tangan Jo tiba-tiba bergerak ke paha Yuma, merenggangkannya lebih lebar sambil mengangkat pinggul Yuma dari sofa, mendorongnya lebih dalam ke dalam diri Yuma. Perubahan sudut itu membuat Yuma terkesiap keras. Jo mulai menghujami dari bawah, prostat Yuma menegang setiap kali Jo mendorong dengan kuat.
“Take it... take my dick.” Ujar Jo dalam bahasa Inggris, hasil belajar dari English First seminggu 2x.
Jo menggerakkan satu tangannya di antara kedua paha Yuma, menggenggam poin sensitifnya dengan kuat—menaik turunkan genggamannya. Jo memberikan Yuma combo yang membuat Matanya memutih sambil terus menghujamkan miliknya dari bawah.
“Enak?” Bisik Jo.
Tangan Jo yang lain mencengkeram rambut Yuma, sedikit menarik kepala Yuma ke belakang. Seperti bukan Jo yang biasanya, kayaknya dia kesurupan. Gak tau setan jenis apa.
“E-enak banget...” Ujar Yuma sambil mendesah tak henti.
Gerakan Jo menjadi tersentak-sentak dan tak terduga saat ia semakin dekat dengan pelepasannya. Yuma menggigit bahu Jo untuk meredam erangannya.
“Aku hampir sampai...” Tangan Yuma meremas pinggul Jo cukup kuat hingga nampak memar. "
“Yaudah turun. Aku juga.” Jo menjawabnya saat cairannya sudah mengisi milik Yuma tanpa menarik keluar.
“Anjingggg.” Yuma menjerit.
Setelah selesai, Jo tetap di dalam Yuma sejenak, mengatur napas. Wajahnya memerah, sangat kontras dengan ekspresi tenangnya yang biasa. Kemudian ia perlahan menarik diakhiri dengan lenguhan Yuma
“Ahhh...Jo bangsat.”
Yuma mulai bangun dari pangkuan Jo, dan berjongkok di antara dua kaki Jo. Mengulumnya dalam, menjilatinya, berserta sisa-sisa cairan cinta mereka.
Jo menatap Yuma dengan mata sayu saat Yuma melakukan pekerjaan itu. Lidahnya perlahan menjilati sisa saripati dari tongkat baseball Jo. Napas Jo sedikit tercekat.
“Kamu ngebersihin aku?” Tangannya bergerak ke rambut Yuma, membelainya lembut.
“Aku sayang kamu.” Tiba-tiba, entah keberanian dari mana.
To be continued...
the continuation of the story: “The Fire That Never Fades (2/2)”
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Sebuah malam di kota yang tak pernah tidur berubah menjadi permainan nakal dan tak terduga. Satu pertemuan, satu godaan, dan angkot biasa itu meninggalkan jejak yang tak akan terlupakan.
Lampu led gedung tinggi Jakarta memantul di kaca angkot Fuad, menciptakan pola berkelap-kelip di dashboard. Jalan protokol masih ramai kendaraan, tapi di tengah kesibukan kota malam, angkot Fuad bergerak pelan, sembari mencari penumpang. Tangan kanannya menggenggam stir, tangan kiri santai di jendela. Hatinya berdebar, tapi ia tak tahu alasannya... sampai sosok itu melambaikan tangannya ke arah angkot.
Ayu Diah, malam ini tampil casual tapi seksi—tidak ada jas kantor siang hari—melangkah masuk. Rambut panjang palsunya itu terurai, dengan dress pendek bunga-bunga dan cardigan tipis yang memeluk lekuk tubuhnya dengan indah membuat Fuad merasa kegerahan. Senyum nakal terlukis di bibirnya.
Fuad menekan tombol pintu, tubuhnya tegang. Ia tahu siapa Ayu Diah malam ini. Siang hari Yudha—pemuda kantoran tampan SCBD, bikin semua cewek di kantornya klepek-klepek. Malam ini… berubah menjadi sosok wanita yang sangat menggoda.
Seketika Ayu Diah sudah hampir sampai tujuannya. Ia mulai membuka suara
Fuma tersentak. Otaknya berteriak, “Hah mbak... yang bener aja?” Tapi jantungnya menolak bohong. “T-tapi saya gak nolak.”
Padahal Ayu sebagai Yudha, bisa bayar dengan uangnya sendiri. Tapi yang dia mau cuma satu hal: ciuman hot jeletot dari supir angkot yang diam-diam sudah membuat hatinya kayak hp mode getar.
Ayu menatap Fuma penuh hasrat, tangan menyentuh lengan Fuma ringan, menggoda. Kemudian mulai turun ke bagian bawah Fuad, ia mengelusnya membuat bulu kuduk Fuad berdiri.
Fuad menelan ludah. “Saya enakin boleh kan? Katanya gak nolak?” Fuad hanya bisa mengangguk sambil fokus menyetir.
Jari-jari luwes nya bermain di antara paha Fuad. Fuad menoleh ke depan, jalan mulai blur. Ia tahu tak boleh… tapi tatapan Ayu terlalu menggoda.
Tubuh Fuad panas, napas tersengal. Wajah Ayu begitu dekat, aroma parfum membakar inderanya. Satu ciuman bisa menghancurkan semua kendali, tapi ia… ingin, tak bisa bohong.
Lampu kota berkelip, bayangan menari-nari. Ayu mulai memainkan console game milik Fuad dengan indera perasanya, tangan nya pun ikut bergerak sesuai ritme. Miliknya penuh sempurna di dalam mulut Ayu, membuatnya gemetar.
Fuad menutup mata sejenak, untungnya gak nabrak. Jalan, lalu lintas kota, dari semua orang… tapi matanya hanya fokus ke kepala Ayu yang naik turun diantara dua pahanya.
Akhirnya Fuad menepi di jalanan sepi dekat kuburan sebelah kali, ia sudah tidak perduli. Kemudian ia mematikan mesin. Menengok kearah Ayu sembari menelan ludah nya, pipinya memerah sampai ke telinga. Ayu menggigit bibir, matanya menatap Fuad penuh niat terselubung. Diraihnya wajah Ayu dan ia lumat bibir merah muda itu. Mereka berciuman panas, lidahnya saling bertaut, bahkan Fuad mengabsen jumlah gigi Ayu. Ayu Menarik kepalanya ke bekang, tersenyum.
“Abang… di belakang lebih luas, kan? Biar enak,” Ayu berbisik nakal.
Fuad tersentak, tapi tubuhnya sudah tidak bisa menolak. Ia mengangguk, dan mereka pindah ke jok penumpang belakang. Ruang lebih lega untuk melakukan kegiatan bercocok tanam. Ayu duduk di sebelahnya, mencondongkan tubuh, menyentuh dada Fuad ringan tapi cukup untuk membuatnya gemetar.
“Bang… eneng penasaran… abang suka liat eneng kan?” Ayu berbisik, suara serak dan menggoda.
“Eh… neng… eh…” Fuad gagap, seluruh tubuhnya panas dingin kayak es teh manis anget.
Ayu mencondongkan wajahnya, napas hangat. Fuad menelan ludah, tangan gemetar, tapi perlahan mencondongkan tubuh… bibir mereka bersentuhan lagi untuk yang kesekian kali. Napas berdesir, jari-jari Ayu bermain lagi dengan console game milik Fuad, membuatnya gemetar.
Ayu mencondongkan tubuh lebih dekat, menyentuh leher Fuad dengan lembut. “Bang… eneng suka kalau abang gigit bibir eneng… tapi jangan keras-keras ya…”
Fuad terengah. Ayu tertawa kecil, suara serak nakal. “Bang… kalo malu-malu gitu neng jadi makin pengen.”
Mereka saling menggoda, bisikan panas, sentuhan nakal, foreplay verbal terus berlangsung. Jok belakang yang lebih luas membuat mereka bebas bergerak, Fuad semakin kehilangan kendali tapi deg-degan luar biasa.
Ciumannya semakin dalam saat gaun itu terbuka sebagian, memperlihatkan kulit Ayu. Ia menelusuri leher dan tulang selangkanya. Tangannya menjelajahi tubuh Ayu dengan lembut namun tegas. Ia menggerakkan satu tangan di antara paha Ayu, membuatnya terkesiap pelan. “Ssst...”
Tangan Fuad menyelinap ke bawah celana dalam Ayu, mendapati Ayu sudah basah. Ia mulai menggosok-gosok kain tipis yang kenakan Ayu sambil menciumnya dengan penuh gairah. Tangannya yang lain meraih di antara kedua kaki Ayu untuk menurunkan celana dalamnya sepenuhnya. “Neng, abang masukin ya?”
Tanpa menunggu respon Ayu, ia sudah membuka resleting celananya dengan cepat dan mengeluarkan kemaluanya yang mengeras. Ayu membungkuk sedikit dan meludah dengan banyak di tangannya sebelum melumuri di pangkal Fuad yang tebal untuk melumasinya. Ia mendongakkan kepalanya sambil mengerang dalam-dalam.
“Bangsat...” Ia memperhatikan Ayu meludah lagi dan menyebarkan ludahnya ke seluruh batangya, membuatnya semakin licin. Kemudian Fuad mengangkat Ayu dengan kasar, merentangkan kakinya lebar-lebar sambil mendudukkan Ayu di pangkuannya, menghadapnya. Tanpa peringatan, dia membanting Ayu ke atas kemaluannya yang keras, memenuhi Ayu sepenuhnya.
Fuad mulai mengangkat tubuh Ayu ke atas dan ke bawah sesuai ritme dengan brutal, tak peduli dengan suara bising atau fakta bahwa mereka sedang di dalam angkot. Angkotnya bergoyang hebat akibat kegiatan bercocok tanam mereka di dalam.
Tiba-tiba ia menarik keluar sepenuhnya, membuat Ayu merintih karena kekosongan yang tiba-tiba itu. Ia memutar tubuh Ayu, membuat Ayu berada dalam posisi rukuk. Ia menampar pantat Ayu dengan keras.
Saat Fuad terus menghujam Ayu dengan brutal dari belakang, gerakannya semakin liar dan tak terkendali, Ayu merasakan sesuatu yang hangat dan lengket mengalir di paha bagian dalamnya. Campuran cairan pra-ejakulasi dan gairahnya sendiri, membasahi seluruh tubuhnya saat ia meluncur masuk dan keluar dengan kasar.
Angkot Fuad kembali pagi berikutnya. Penumpang lain duduk, heran.
“Bang… apaan nih lengket-lengket di kursi belakang?!”
Fuad hanya menelan ludah, wajah memerah. Di kursi belakang, sedikit sisa “jejak panas” malam sebelumnya tetap ada, sebagai bukti permainan nakal mereka. Ayu Diah? Entah kemana… tapi Fuad tahu… malam itu tak akan pernah ia lupakan.
Content Warning‼️: Explicit, Violence/Murder mentioned, Sexualized power dynamics, Moral ambiguity.
Haunted by his past, a man seeks absolution, but confession with a priest awakens forbidden desire in the quiet shadows of the church.
Chapter I: Whispers of Sin
Yudai steps into the church without hesitation, the polished soles of his Oxford shoes clicking softly against the stone floor. Candlelight flickers over the pews, but he barely notices the sacred stillness around him. His heart is heavy, lungs tight, and each step feels like wading through guilt thick enough to choke on. He doesn’t come for peace. He comes to confess a sin that has haunted him for years.
The confessional booth is waiting, dark and polished, the screen a barrier that should keep him safe. He kneels, hands clenching the edges of the wood, and finally forces the words out.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s… been a long time.”
A measured silence responds, calm but attentive.
“Take your time,” Jo says, voice even, composed. “Tell me what weighs on you.”
Yudai swallows hard, his throat suddenly tight. He’s rehearsed this confession countless times, yet the words still threaten to catch in his mouth.
“I… I killed her,” he admits, low, shaking. “She… she harassed me in college. Older than me, persistent… I didn’t know what else to do.”
The confession hangs between them like smoke, thick and suffocating. The quiet is almost too loud, every heartbeat a drum in Yudai’s ears.
“Why did it come to this?” Jo asks, calm, unflinching. “Did you try to stop it in any other way?”
Yudai inhales sharply, letting a bitter laugh escape. “I tried. I thought I could ignore her. I thought she would go away. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t stop until…” His voice breaks. “Until I—”
“You did what you had to,” Jo interrupts gently, almost soothing, though Yudai can’t tell if it’s absolution or temptation in his tone. The pause that follows is deliberate, patient, drawing Yudai in. “And you came here. That is a start. That is a step.”
Yudai leans forward instinctively, imagining Jo just beyond the screen, feeling him there even though he cannot see him. His voice steady, composed, but intimate—brushes against something deep inside him. He feels both judged and understood.
“I don’t know if I deserve forgiveness,” Yudai admits. “I’ve… done something irreparable.”
“Perhaps,” Jo murmurs, voice low, careful, “but admitting it is the first step. Seeking absolution is another. And speaking it aloud… that is already part of the journey.”
Yudai’s pulse tightens. There’s a tension in the air now, subtle, electric. Every measured word from Jo lands heavier than he should, but he cannot pull away. He feels exposed in a way he never has, stripped bare by the ritual, by his guilt, and by the intimate cadence of Jo’s voice.
“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Yudai confesses, voice barely above a whisper. “Even now… I keep seeing her, hearing her… feeling the anger I couldn’t control.”
“You carry it with you,” Jo says softly. “The memory. The guilt. The fear. The anger.”
“Yes,” Yudai breathes. “It gnaws at me. I don’t know how to let it go. I can’t forgive myself.”
There’s a pause long enough that Yudai imagines Jo shifting slightly, leaning closer, even though the screen stands firm between them. He feels the space shrink, a closeness that isn’t physical but is impossible to ignore.
“You are human,” Jo says carefully. “Guilt is part of that. But so is choice. You chose to confess. You chose to seek forgiveness. That counts for more than you realize.”
Yudai swallows, heart hammering. His body responds in ways he hates, tension blooming in his chest and stomach, despite the guilt that should dampen everything. There is something dangerously intimate about Jo’s words, the patient, measured attention, the calm in his voice that cuts straight through him.
“I…” Yudai falters. “I wanted to… I don’t know… unburden myself. But being here… it’s… harder than I thought.”
“Because truth is heavier than you expect,” Jo murmurs. “And because… sometimes sharing guilt creates more than relief. It creates… connection.”
The word strikes a spark. Yudai can feel the heat rising in his chest, not from shame alone, but from the way Jo’s voice touches him, intimate, deliberate, teasing. Forbidden. He leans slightly closer, drawn in by the pull of it, and Jo’s quiet patience seems to acknowledge it, without breaking the priestly calm.
“I… I feel something I shouldn’t,” Yudai admits, voice quivering. “Even now… when I’m confessing…”
“You are not alone,” Jo says softly, carefully, intentionally. “Feeling something… does not make you less guilty. It makes you human.”
Yudai closes his eyes, letting the words wash over him. He wants absolution, but he finds something else entirely: desire, longing, the dangerous heat of intimacy in the shadows. Every pause, every deliberate syllable, every sigh on the other side of the screen is a tether pulling him closer to something he cannot name, and cannot resist.
“I… need guidance,” Yudai whispers, “but I feel…” His voice drops, trembles. “I feel… something else.”
There’s a long, charged silence. Yudai imagines Jo’s hand hovering, subtle movement, just enough to send a shiver down his spine.
“You are… more alive than you realize,” Jo murmurs, voice low, intimate. “Even in your sin, even in your guilt, even now.”
Yudai swallows, a shiver running through him. “I… I don’t want to be alone with it anymore,” he admits. “I don’t want to carry it by myself.”
“You won’t,” Jo promises softly. “Not here. Not while you speak. Not while you… let me listen.”
The confession stretches, charged and intimate. Candlelight flickers across the screen, casting shadow patterns that make Yudai’s chest tighten with longing. Behind the wood, something is building between them, fragile but undeniable.
“I…” Yudai starts, voice low, trembling. “I don’t know where this is going…”
“Where it goes,” Jo replies softly, careful, deliberate, “depends on what you are willing to admit… and what you are willing to feel.”
The words are both warning and invitation, and Yudai cannot tell which excites him more.
The church remains silent around them, sacred and untouched, but in the confessional, the world narrows to two men, one burdened by a past crime, one quietly drawn into the same shadows. Both are aware, intimately, of the pull between them—a dangerous, forbidden tension that neither can fully name.
Yudai leans forward just slightly, imagining Jo’s presence beyond the screen, feeling the brush of desire and longing in the calm voice, in the pauses, in the careful words. The boundaries of ritual and sin blur, the tension mounting, electric and inescapable.
He came here for forgiveness. He leaves the confessional with the knowledge that confession has stirred something more—something dangerous, intimate, and impossible to ignore.
And Jo, listening, feels it too: the weight of guilt, the spark of forbidden desire, the quiet, relentless pull of human need that neither sin nor sanctity can suppress.
The candlelight flickers one last time before Yudai rises from the kneeler. Neither man moves across the screen, yet the space between them is charged, heavy, a taut wire of anticipation.
Outside the confessional, the church is still. Inside, something has shifted. And neither Yudai nor Jo can unfeel it.
Chapter 2: Absolution in Shadows
The church is empty now, the last light of day fading through stained glass, casting long, muted patterns on the stone floor. Yudai hesitates at the edge of the nave, heart hammering, mind still tangled in the confession he made hours ago. The words linger, thick and suffocating, a pulse of guilt and forbidden desire he cannot shake.
Jo steps from the shadows, calm and deliberate. “Yudai,” he murmurs, voice low and intimate. The simple call of his name sends a shiver through Yudai, a reminder of the tension between them—impossible, forbidden, irresistible.
“I…” Yudai starts, throat dry. He wants to run, to flee the weight of what they’ve both acknowledged behind the confessional screen. And yet, the pull of the priest is magnetic, drawing him closer, tethering him with invisible threads he cannot break.
“You don’t need to explain,” Jo says softly. “Not here. Not now.”
The words are a promise, and Yudai finds himself stepping forward, drawn by something he cannot name, something both sacred and dangerous. Jo closes the distance between them, calm, deliberate, the quiet authority of the priest contrasting with the heat in his gaze.
They are close enough now that Yudai can feel the warmth radiating from Jo’s body, smell the faint incense lingering on his skin. The air between them is thick, electric, the weight of the day’s confessions pressing in, pressing down. Yudai swallows, pulse racing.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, voice trembling. “Not just about… what I did, but… you. Everything about you.”
Jo’s eyes darken, and a faint tremor enters his calm. “Yudai…” The name is a caress, a soft warning, a temptation all at once. “Do you want this?”
Yudai’s hands tremble at his sides. “I… I don’t know if I should,” he whispers. “It’s… wrong.”
Jo steps even closer, enough that the heat of their bodies brushes. “Wrong and right are not always so simple,” he murmurs. His fingers brush against Yudai’s arm, light, teasing, deliberate. The contact ignites a fire that Yudai cannot control, spreading through his chest and stomach.
Desire coils low, raw and insistent. Yudai swallows, heart hammering. “I… I want it,” he admits, voice rough. “I want you.”
Jo hesitates for only a heartbeat before closing the distance fully, pressing Yudai against the wall of the nave, hands firm yet gentle. The first touch—shoulders brushing, fingers tracing arms—sends a shock through Yudai, a thrill that mingles with guilt and longing.
“You’re trembling,” Jo murmurs, voice low, intimate, almost a command. His hands slide to Yudai’s waist, holding him close, a dangerous, deliberate closeness. “You feel this too, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Yudai breathes, unable to stop the confession. “I can’t… I can’t resist.”
The first kiss is tentative, soft, a testing of boundaries. Yudai leans into it, lips pressing against Jo’s, tasting the danger, the forbidden fire. The priest responds in kind, careful, deliberate, letting the tension coil tighter, pulling them both toward something inevitable.
Hands roam cautiously, brushing against shoulders, down backs, tracing the contours of bodies in the dim light. Desire builds, a storm contained only by the sacred walls around them. Every sigh, every tremble, every whispered word is a thread weaving them closer, binding them in a secret intimacy that neither can resist.
“You’re mine,” Jo whispers, not possessive, but claiming, grounding Yudai in the moment. “And I… am yours.”
The confession of their desires mingles with the echoes of sins confessed earlier, the weight of guilt and longing pressing into every touch, every kiss. Yudai shivers under the heat of it, letting himself be consumed by the forbidden, the sinful, the undeniably human.
They move deeper into the shadows of the nave, bodies pressed together, lips meeting, hands exploring, every motion a delicate balance of restraint and need. The sacred space, centuries old and silent, holds witness to their passion, wrapping them in secrecy and intimacy.
Jo’s fingers trace down Yudai’s arms, brushing along sensitive skin, teasing, eliciting shivers, drawing quiet gasps. Yudai arches instinctively, giving in to the heat that has been building since the confession, since the words that first crossed the confessional screen.
“You’re so… beautiful,” Jo murmurs against his lips, voice low, intimate. “Even in your guilt, even in your sin, you’re… alive.”
Yudai closes his eyes, letting the words wash over him, fanning the fire between them. “I’ve never… felt like this,” he admits, voice rough with longing. “Not… like this with anyone.”
The air grows heavy with their shared breath, bodies pressed, hands exploring, lips claiming. Every touch is both confession and absolution, a way to release the tension, the guilt, the desire. Yudai trembles under the weight of it, surrendering fully to the intimacy they’ve carved in secret, in shadow.
Jo holds him close, steady, guiding, coaxing, every motion deliberate, every whisper a tether binding them. “You are forgiven,” he murmurs. “Not for what you’ve done… but for being here, for feeling, for wanting. For being alive.”
Jo’s hand moves to gently stroke Yudai’s cheek, his other hand reaching down to adjust himself discreetly.
Yudai shivers at the words, the combination of absolution and desire igniting a final spark. He presses closer, lips meeting Jo’s in a kiss that is urgent, desperate, tender all at once. The moment is suspended in candlelight and shadow, the sacred walls enclosing them, holding their secret, their passion, their shared need.
Yudai kneels down on the hard wooden floor, the small room barely able to fit both men. Jo locks the door softly, unbuckling his belt. “You know what I’m going to do?”
He unzips his black pants, revealing himself semi-hard already.
Yudai nods silently, opening his mouth obediently as Jo pushes his thick, veiny length inside. Yudai sucks eagerly, remembering the countless times he had to endure that woman's advances before snapping. He was never caught, but the memory still lingers.
Jo grips Yudai’s hair tightly, fucking his mouth roughly as he recalls the woman's persistent harassment and Yudai’s eventual violent outburst. The priest comes suddenly, holding Yudai’s head in place as he shoots his load down his throat. “Swallow it all, my dirty little sinner...” He pulls out slowly. “Good job.”
Yudai swallows every drop, wiping his mouth clean before looking up at Jo. The priest smiles, stroking Yudai’s hair affectionately. “Now, let me take care of you...” He unbuttons Yudai’s shirt slowly, revealing his toned chest.
Jo pushes Yudai against the confessional wall forcefully, flipping him over roughly, pushing down his pants. He spits into his hand and lubes up his. “You’ve come here so many times to confess your sins...” Then roughly enters him from behind.
“God wants me to cleanse your sins, my son,” He begins thrusting hard, using Yudai’s hips for leverage. “Did you hate it when she touched you? Like this?”
Yudai lets out a muffled cry, gripping the confession booth’s cold wood as Jo hits his prostate brutally. “Yes... I hated it so much...” He pushes back, taking the roughness eagerly. “Fuck me like this... Like I fucked her before killing her...”
Yudai’s eyes roll back as Jo hits his prostate hard, a loud moan escaping his lips. The priest covers Yudai’s mouth with his hand, muffling his noises as he starts to truly fuck him like an animal—just like Yudai had fucked that woman before killing her. “Shh...”
Jo keeps one hand over Yudai’s mouth and the other gripping his hip brutally as he thrusts deeper and faster. His balls slap against Yudai’s ass with each harsh stroke. “That’s right... Take mine like you took her life.”
His thrusts become even more ferocious, his hips slapping against Yudai’s ass with wet smacks as their combined fluids start to drip down Yudai’s thighs. He leans back slightly to watch as their essence mixes and drips down Yudai’s inner thighs in a messy display of raw sex.
Jo growls in satisfaction as he sees their combined essence dripping down Yudai’s thighs. He spits on Yudai’s hole for extra lubrication and starts pounding him even harder.
Every motion, every gasp, every whispered confession draws them deeper—closer—until there is nothing but the heat between them, the forbidden intimacy, and the fragile, dangerous ecstasy of sin and absolution entwined.
As dawn approaches, their breaths ragged, hearts pounding, they finally pause, clinging to one another in the quiet aftermath. The church remains silent, sacred, and unchanged—but inside, Yudai and Jo know that everything has shifted. Nothing will ever be the same.
Their sins are forgiven, but their desires remain—smoldering, undeniable, and theirs alone.
END?
the continuation of the story: “The Path We Denied”
