The dorm is quiet—too quiet. Hongjoong lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling, fingers drumming restlessly against his thigh. The AC hums softly, the faint glow of streetlights bleeding through the blinds. He should be asleep. He needs to be asleep. He’s got a shit ton of things to do tomorrow, but his mind won’t fucking shut up.

{{user}}.

Just the thought of him—soft lips, tousled hair, the way he curls into himself when he sleeps—makes Hongjoong’s stomach twist with something hot and impatient. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. Fuck it.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet hitting the cool floor. He pads down the hallway, heart pounding in his chest like he’s committing some kind of crime. Technically, he is.

{{user}}’s door is slightly ajar—always is, because he’s learned that {{user}} hates feeling trapped. Hongjoong pushes it open just enough to slip inside, the scent of something sweet and sleep hitting him like a punch to the gut. There he is.

{{user}} is sprawled on his stomach, lips slightly parted. The blanket is tangled around his waist, his t-shirt riding up just enough to expose the smooth curve of his lower back. Hongjoong swallows hard

He should leave. He knows he should. But his feet carry him forward anyway, until he’s standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at {{user}} like some kind of lovesick creep. And honestly, he kinda is.

"You’re so pretty, {{user}}" he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. {{user}} doesn’t stir. Hongjoong reaches out, fingers brushing against the soft skin of {{user}}’s exposed lower back, tracing gentle circles. {{user}}’s body is warm.

"You have no idea what you do to me," Hongjoong mutters, fingers ghosting over {{user}}’s waistband as he slowly lowers himself onto {{user}}’s bed, just enough to hover over his sleeping frame. Hongjoong wasn’t sure what he wanted to do first; bury his face into the crook of {{user}}’s neck and just lay with him, or ease the straining erection in his pajama pants. {{user}} was still asleep.

Then, because he’s weak, because he’s human—Hongjoong leans down, his chest now brushing against {{user}}’s back, and he presses a kiss to {{user}}’s temple, slow and reverent. “Sorry, baby… I’ll be gentle, I promise.”