Friction

The air in Net’s apartment was thick with the lingering scent of cheap whiskey and the sharp, ozone-heavy tension that had defined his relationship with JJ for four years. The rest of the student council—Keng, Latte, Namping, Kim, and Ohm—had long since stumbled out, leaving behind a graveyard of empty cans and the echo of a joke that had cut Net to the bone.

“It would never happen.”

JJ’s voice had been light, dismissive, the kind of tone he used when swatting away a fly. But as JJ slumped on the sofa, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed with intoxication, Net felt the familiar, toxic heat of his own possessiveness boiling over. He didn't want to argue anymore. He wanted to destroy the distance JJ kept between them with those sharp, witty barbs.

"Say it again," Net commanded, his voice a low vibration as he stepped into JJ’s personal space, looming over him. "Tell me again how it would never happen."

JJ let out a jagged, nervous laugh, trying to push Net back, but his hands were weak from the alcohol. "Get off me, Net. You’re being weird. You’re always so... intense. It’s annoying. That’s why it wouldn’t work. We’d kill each other in a week."

Net didn't move. He grabbed JJ’s wrists, pinning them against the back of the sofa. The Vice President’s eyes were dark, devoid of the usual calculated restraint he showed during council meetings. "Is that the only reason? Or are you just scared?"

JJ’s breath hitched. He hated this. He hated how Net could see through the armor. He felt cornered, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. To regain control, he reached for the only weapon he had: cruelty.

"I'm not scared of you," JJ spat, his eyes narrowing even as his lip trembled. "I just don't like you. In fact, I hate you, Net. I hate everything about how you try to control me."

The word hate snapped the last thread of Net’s patience. Without a word, he lunged forward, smashing his lips against JJ’s in a kiss that wasn't a request—it was a reclamation. It was a collision of teeth and tongue, fueled by years of repressed longing and the stinging rejection of JJ’s words.

JJ struggled, a muffled protest dying in his throat as Net’s weight bore him down into the cushions. But as Net’s hand slid under his shirt, searing skin against skin, JJ’s body betrayed him. A traitorous groan escaped him, his resistance melting into a desperate, disoriented compliance.

Net pulled back just an inch, his eyes burning. "You hate me? Fine. Let's see how much you hate this."

He dragged JJ toward the bedroom, his movements rough and impatient. He wasn't going to be gentle; he was going to be undeniable. Once they hit the mattress, Net didn't waste time with tenderness. He stripped JJ with a frantic efficiency, ignoring the way the other man tried to shield himself.

"Look at me," Net growled, grabbing a silk tie from the bedside table. Before JJ could process the intent, Net had his wrists bound tightly to the headboard.

"Net, wait—" JJ’s voice was shaky, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and rising arousal he couldn't suppress. "This is... you're crazy."

"I'm done playing your games, JJ," Net said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

He moved down JJ’s body, his tongue tracing the line of his hip before moving to his nipples. Net bit and sucked at the sensitive buds until JJ was arching off the bed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, Net moved lower. He spread JJ’s legs wide, ignoring the way JJ tried to close them. Net leaned in, his tongue flickering out to rim the tight, puckered entrance of JJ’s heat.

JJ let out a high, broken sound, his head tossing back against the pillows. The sensation was overwhelming—the wet, rhythmic friction against such a vulnerable spot sent sparks behind his eyelids. "Net... please..."

"Please what?" Net murmured against his skin, his fingers working to stretch JJ open, preparing him with a blunt, clinical focus that made JJ’s toes curl.

When Net finally entered him, he did so in one forceful thrust. JJ cried out, his body tensing around the intrusion. It was too much, too fast, but Net didn't slow down. He began to move with a punishing, relentless pace, his hips slamming against JJ’s with a wet, rhythmic thud.

"Look at me," Net commanded again, his hands framing JJ’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. "I want you to see exactly who is doing this to you. Is it the man you hate, JJ?"

JJ couldn't answer. He was drowning in the sensation, his mind a fog of alcohol and pleasure. Every time he neared the edge, Net would stop. He would pull back, his thumb pressing firmly against the head of JJ’s cock, denying him the release he was screaming for.

"Do you still hate me?" Net asked, his voice dripping with dark intent.

"I... I..." JJ gasped, his body shaking with the need to come.

"Say it. Tell me you don't hate me, or I won't let you finish," Net threatened, his thrusts shallow and teasing, agonizingly slow.

"I don't! I don't hate you!" JJ sobbed out, the lie—or perhaps the truth—finally breaking free.

Net let out a low, triumphant growl and increased the pace, his movements becoming a blur of friction and heat. He didn't stop when JJ climaxed, his body shuddering violently against the restraints. Net kept going, driving into him for a second round, then a third, his stamina fueled by a lifetime of wanting. He overstimulated JJ, ignoring the pleas for a break, his mouth constant on JJ’s skin, his hands never leaving him. By the time Net finally found his own release, filling JJ with a heat that felt like a brand, the sun was beginning to peek through the curtains.

---

JJ woke up with a pounding headache and a body that felt like it had been run over by a freight train. The memory of the night hit him like a physical blow—the binding, the words, the way he had begged.

Panic, cold and sharp, seized his chest. He couldn't be here when Net woke up. He couldn't face the reality of what they had done. With trembling hands, he untied the knots, scrambled into his clothes, and practically fell out of the apartment.

He reached the campus in a daze, his mind racing. He tried to blend in, sitting in the back of the student union lounge, hiding behind a laptop. But he could feel the eyes on him—or rather, he could feel the absence of the one person he was terrified to see.

"JJ? You okay? You look like you saw a ghost," Ohm asked, leaning over the table.

"Fine. Just a hangover," JJ snapped, his voice cracking.

Suddenly, the glass doors of the lounge swung open. Net walked in, his expression not one of anger, but of a terrifying, focused calm. He didn't look like he had slept at all. His eyes locked onto JJ instantly.

JJ stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. "I have a meeting. I have to go."

He bolted toward the back exit, but Net was faster. Net didn't run; he moved with a predatory grace that cut off JJ’s path before he even reached the hallway.

"Running won't change it, JJ," Net said, his voice carrying across the quiet hall.

The other council members—Keng, Latte, and Namping—stopped in their tracks, watching the scene unfold. They were used to the bickering, but this was different. The air was charged with a heavy, suffocating sincerity.

JJ tried to duck past him. "Net, not now. We have work to do."

Net grabbed JJ’s arm, swinging him around and pinning him against the cool brick wall of the corridor. "Why did you run? Because you said you hated me? Or because you realized you lied?"

"Let go, Net! Everyone is watching!" JJ hissed, his face turning a bright, humiliated red.

"I don't care who’s watching," Net said, his voice dropping, his face inches from JJ’s. "I've spent four years fighting with you just to stay in your orbit. I've spent four years letting you insult me because it was the only way you'd look at me. But last night... I'm done with the games."

JJ’s breath hitched. "Net..."

"I love you," Net said, the words clear and heavy, lacking any of the usual sharp edges. "I’ve loved you since the first day of freshman year. And I know you felt it last night. So stop running. Stop hiding behind the insults."

The silence in the hallway was deafening. JJ looked at Net—really looked at him—and saw the vulnerability hidden beneath the Vice President’s mask. The fear that had kept JJ running suddenly felt small compared to the raw honesty in Net’s eyes.

JJ’s shoulders slumped. The fight went out of him. "You’re an idiot," he whispered, his voice trembling. "You’re an arrogant, controlling, intense idiot."

Net smirked, though his eyes remained soft. "And?"

"And I... I don't hate you," JJ admitted, his voice barely audible. "I’m just terrified of how much I don't hate you."

Net didn't wait. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against JJ’s. "Then be terrified with me. Just stop running."

A few feet away, Latte cleared his throat loudly. "So... are we supposed to pretend we didn't hear that, or are you guys finally boyfriends so we can stop placing bets on when you'll snap?"

Net didn't take his eyes off JJ. "We're dating," he announced firmly.

JJ immediately tried to cover Net’s mouth with his hand, his face burning. "Shut up! Net, shut up! We haven't even talked about—"

"Too late, President," Keng laughed, leading the others in a round of mock cheers and whistles. "We all heard it. About damn time."

JJ buried his face in Net’s shoulder, unable to look at his friends, but he didn't pull away. For the first time in four years, the friction was gone, replaced by a heat that finally felt like coming home.