Friction
The Breaking Point of Silence
The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of spilled whiskey and the sharp, ozone-like tension that had been building between them for four years. Net’s hand was a vice around JJ’s wrist, pinning him against the cool surface of the living room wall. The door had barely clicked shut behind Keng and the others, but the silence they left behind was deafening.
"Say it again," Net hissed, his face inches from JJ’s. His eyes, usually sharp and calculated, were dark with a volatile mix of heartbreak and predatory intent. "Tell me again how it would never happen. Tell me how much of a disaster we’d be."
JJ’s head was swimming. The alcohol made his movements sluggish, but his heart was racing at a speed that threatened to crack his ribs. He felt cornered, not just by the wall, but by the raw desperation radiating off Net. It terrified him. He’d spent years perfecting the art of the jab, the deflective joke, the petty argument that kept their hearts at arm’s length.
"Get off me, Net," JJ spat, his voice trembling despite his attempt at bravado. "You’re drunk. You’re being pathetic. I said what I said because it’s true. You and me? It’s a joke. Everyone knows it."
"Is that why you can’t look at me?" Net’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl. He pressed his body closer, crushing JJ’s chest against his own. "Is that why you’re shaking?"
"I’m not shaking, I’m annoyed!" JJ yelled, trying to shove Net back, but the Vice President didn't budge. "I hate you, Net! I’ve hated you since freshman year! I hate your face, I hate your attitude, and I hate that you’re touching me right now!"
The words were meant to be a shield, a final blow to drive Net away. Instead, they acted as a catalyst. Net’s expression fractured, the pain finally giving way to a dark, uncompromising resolve. He didn’t argue. He didn’t yell back.
Net lunged forward, capturing JJ’s mouth in a kiss that was less of a plea and more of an invasion. It was aggressive, a collision of teeth and tongue that tasted of bitter gin and years of unspoken longing. JJ let out a muffled sound of shock, his hands fisting in Net’s shirt to push him away, but the kiss deepened, turning forceful and punishing. Net’s tongue swept into JJ’s mouth, claiming space with a desperation that made JJ’s knees buckle.
Net didn't let him fall. He hoisted JJ up, his arms locking around JJ's waist as he marched him toward the bedroom. JJ was disoriented, his mind screaming that this was wrong, that they were supposed to be fighting, but his body was betraying him. The heat radiating from Net was intoxicating, and the way Net was devouring his lips made his head spin.
Net threw him onto the mattress, and before JJ could scramble back, Net was on top of him. He grabbed a necktie discarded on the nightstand, his movements efficient and terrifyingly calm.
"Net, wait—what are you—" JJ’s protest was cut off as Net snatched his wrists, hauling them above his head and binding them to the headboard with a tight, ruthless knot.
"You said you hate me, JJ," Net whispered, his breath hot against JJ’s ear. "So let’s see how much you hate this."
Net ripped JJ’s shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor like hail. He didn't give JJ time to process the shock. He descended on JJ’s chest, his mouth latching onto a sensitive nipple with bruising force. JJ let out a sharp, strangled cry, his back arching off the bed. The sensation was overwhelming—a mix of sharp pain and a sudden, unwanted jolt of electricity that shot straight to his groin.
"Net, stop! This isn't—ah!" JJ gasped as Net’s teeth grazed the peak, his tongue swirling around the inflamed bud with relentless pressure. Net moved to the other side, his hands roaming over JJ’s ribs, squeezing and bruising, marking him as his.
Net’s hands moved to JJ’s trousers, stripping them off along with his underwear in one fluid, violent motion. JJ felt exposed, the cool air of the room hitting his heated skin, but Net didn't let him feel cold for long. Net moved down, his head disappearing between JJ’s legs.
JJ’s eyes widened, his bound hands straining against the silk tie. "Net, no! Don't—"
But then he felt it. The warm, wet slide of Net’s tongue against his most intimate entrance. JJ’s breath hitched, a sob of pure, unadulterated pleasure escaping his throat. Net was rimming him, his tongue deep and insistent, swirling against the tight ring of muscle until JJ was whimpering, his hips stuttering in a desperate, instinctive search for more. Net’s fingers joined the assault, stretching him open, while his tongue continued to worship the area with a focus that was both degrading and worshipful.
"You hate me, right?" Net murmured against his inner thigh, his voice vibrating through JJ’s bones.
"I... I..." JJ couldn't finish the sentence. He was drowning in sensation.
Net didn't wait. He shed his own clothes with frantic haste and positioned himself. He didn't use lube; the slickness from his own mouth and JJ’s pre-come would have to be enough. He surged forward, burying his length inside JJ in one heavy, punishing thrust.
JJ screamed into the empty room, his eyes rolling back. It was too much. He was a virgin, his body unaccustomed to such fullness, such intrusion. He felt stretched to the breaking point, the friction of Net’s entry sending waves of shock through his nervous system.
"Look at me," Net commanded, his voice a low, vibrating snap.
JJ tried to turn his head away, his face flushed with shame and pleasure, but Net grabbed his chin, forcing their eyes to lock. Net’s eyes were blazing, fixed on JJ with a terrifying intensity.
"Look at who’s doing this to you, JJ. Look at the man you hate."
Net began to move, his pace frantic and rough. Each thrust was a statement, a claim. He hammered into JJ, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing in the quiet apartment. JJ was sobbing now, his head tossing from side to side as much as Net’s grip would allow. He was overstimulated, his senses firing in a chaotic blur of white noise.
As JJ neared his peak, his body trembling on the verge of release, Net suddenly slowed. He pulled back, his movements becoming agonizingly shallow, teasing the very edge of JJ’s prostate without ever fully hitting it.
"Net... please," JJ begged, his voice a broken wreck. "I... I need..."
"Need what? Need me?" Net leaned down, his sweat dripping onto JJ’s chest. He wrapped his hand around JJ’s length, squeezing the head firmly to prevent him from coming. "Tell me you don't hate me. Tell me, and I’ll let you go."
"I hate you! I hate—ah!" JJ cried out as Net slammed back into him, hitting his sweet spot with a force that made JJ’s vision go dark.
"Wrong answer," Net growled. He continued to edge JJ, his movements a cruel dance of denial. He would thrust deep and hard until JJ was screaming, then pull back and squeeze JJ’s cock until the pleasure turned to a dull, aching throb.
"Please, Net... I can't... please let me..." JJ was weeping openly now, his dignity stripped away by the relentless onslaught of Net’s body.
"Do you hate me?" Net asked again, his thrusts picking up speed, becoming a blur of friction and heat.
"No! No, I don't! I don't hate you!" JJ shrieked, the lie—or perhaps the truth—finally torn from him.
The moment the words left his lips, Net let go of his grip. He drove into JJ with a final, primal roar, his seeds spilling deep inside as JJ’s body finally shattered. JJ’s release was violent, his muscles spasming as he came hard against his own stomach, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps.
But Net wasn't finished.
Even as JJ lay there, spent and trembling, his mind trying to catch up to the trauma and ecstasy of the moment, Net didn't pull away. He stayed buried inside, his hands moving back to JJ’s nipples, pinching and rolling them until JJ was whining again.
"Net... stop... please, I’m tired," JJ whispered.
Net ignored him. He began to move again, his cock still semi-hard and growing larger inside JJ’s sensitive, overworked walls. He flipped JJ over onto his stomach, his bound hands pulled taut behind him, and began a second round with even more fervor than the first.
He spent the night breaking JJ down, overstimulating him until JJ was begging for a break that never came. Net rimmed him again, his tongue a relentless tool of pleasure that kept JJ’s body reactive even when his mind wanted to shut down. He forced JJ to come again and again, long after JJ had anything left to give, until JJ was nothing but a shivering mess of nerves and sweat.
Net only stopped when the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains. He finally untied JJ’s wrists, the red marks of the silk tie stark against JJ’s pale skin. Net pulled the smaller man into his arms, holding him with a possessiveness that felt like a cage, and finally fell into a heavy, dark sleep.
***
JJ woke up three hours later. His body felt like it had been run over by a freight train. Every muscle ached, and the friction burns between his thighs were a stinging reminder of the night’s events.
He looked at Net, who was still sleeping soundly, one arm draped heavily over JJ’s waist. The sight sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated panic through him. The memories came flooding back—the binding, the begging, the way he’d screamed that he didn't hate Net.
He couldn't be here when Net woke up. He couldn't face the Vice President after being dismantled so completely.
Moving with agonizing slowness, JJ disentangled himself from Net’s grip. He gathered his ruined clothes, his fingers trembling so hard he could barely hold them. He dressed in a blur of shame and adrenaline, stumbling out of the apartment and into the morning air. He didn't look back. He ran toward the campus, his mind a frantic loop of *no, no, no.*
Net woke up an hour later. The space beside him was cold.
He sat up, his eyes narrowing as he saw the empty room. He didn't feel the morning-after regret most people would. He felt a cold, sharp clarity. JJ had run. Again.
Net got up, showered, and dressed with methodical precision. He didn't look like a man who had spent the night in a haze of rough sex. He looked like the Vice President of the Student Council—controlled, sharp, and dependable.
But as he walked onto the campus grounds, his eyes were scanning the crowds like a predator. He wasn't looking for an apology. He was looking for his President.
JJ was trying to hide in the student lounge, buried behind a mountain of paperwork for the upcoming sports gala. His hands were shaking, and he jumped at every sound.
"JJ? You okay? You look like you saw a ghost," Ohm asked, leaning over the table.
"I’m fine. Just... didn't sleep well," JJ stammered, his eyes darting toward the door.
"You and Net stayed back, right? Did he give you a hard time?" Keng asked, smirking. "We heard you guys starting to bicker before we even got to the elevator."
JJ opened his mouth to lie, but the words died in his throat. The lounge door swung open, and Net stepped inside. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.
Net didn't even look at the other council members. His gaze locked onto JJ, and the intensity of it made JJ want to crawl under the table. Net started walking, his pace slow and deliberate.
JJ scrambled to his feet. "I... I have to go to the Dean’s office. I forgot... a thing."
He bolted. He ran through the hallway, weaving through students, but he could hear the steady, rhythmic footfalls of Net behind him. Net wasn't sprinting; he didn't need to. He knew every shortcut, every corner of this building.
JJ ducked into a narrow corridor leading to the old archives, a place usually deserted this time of day. He reached the end, turning to find another exit, but a hand slammed against the wall beside his head, blocking his path.
Net was there, breathing slightly harder, but his expression was like flint.
"Running is a bad look for a President, JJ," Net said, his voice low and dangerous.
"Go away, Net! Leave me alone!" JJ shouted, his back against the cold brick.
"Why did you run?" Net stepped into JJ’s personal space, the same way he had the night before. "Why did you leave without a word?"
"Because it was a mistake! We were drunk, and you went crazy, and—"
"I wasn't drunk, JJ," Net interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew exactly who I was holding. And you weren't that drunk either by the third round."
JJ’s face flamed. "I hate you. I really do."
"Stop lying," Net snapped. He grabbed JJ’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Stop the games. Stop the bickering. I’m done with it. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you, you idiot. I’ve fought with you for four years just to have a reason to be near you because I thought you’d never want me any other way."
JJ froze. The air left his lungs. "You... what?"
"I love you," Net said, the words clear and heavy. There was no sarcasm, no hidden edge. "And I think you love me too, or you wouldn't have let me do the things I did to you last night. So tell me the truth. Now."
JJ looked up at him, seeing the vulnerability Net had hidden behind sharp words for years. The fear he’d been carrying—the fear that love would ruin their dynamic—suddenly seemed small compared to the look in Net’s eyes.
"I... I don't hate you," JJ whispered, his voice cracking. "I was just scared. You’re so much, Net. You’re everywhere. I didn't know how to handle it."
"Handle it by being with me," Net said, his grip softening. "Be my boyfriend. No more fighting. Just this."
JJ took a shaky breath, then nodded. "Okay. Fine. But if you ever tie me up with a necktie again, I’m calling the police."
Net chuckled, a genuine, warm sound that JJ realized he hadn't heard nearly enough. "We’ll see about that."
They walked back to the council room together, trying to maintain their usual professional distance. But the way Net’s hand occasionally brushed against JJ’s, and the way JJ didn't pull away, was a dead giveaway.
The council was all there—Keng, Latte, Namping, Kim, and Ohm. They were huddled together, whispering, but they went silent the moment the pair entered.
"So," Latte started, looking between them. "JJ, you’re not running anymore. And Net, you don't look like you’re about to murder him."
"We’re dating," Net said simply, pulling out his chair and sitting down as if he’d just announced the weather.
JJ’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Net! You—"
"Wait, what?" Namping gasped. "Seriously? Like, for real?"
"Yes, for real," Net said, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at JJ, who was currently hiding his face in his hands.
"Finally!" Ohm cheered, throwing a crumpled piece of paper at them. "We’ve been waiting three years for you two to stop the foreplay and just get it over with!"
"It wasn't foreplay!" JJ muffled into his palms, his ears turning bright red.
"Sure it wasn't, President," Keng laughed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Net reached over under the table, squeezing JJ’s knee. JJ jumped, but he didn't move Net’s hand. For the first time in four years, the air between them was clear. The fighting was over, but the intensity—the raw, physical heat that had defined their night—was only just beginning.