Morning After
Off the Record
The student council after-party had officially disbanded the moment Ohm passed out on the rug and Latte volunteered to drag him out to a cab, with Keng, Namping, and Kim trailing behind in a chorus of rowdy goodbyes. That left the quiet aftermath inside Net’s apartment: half-empty beer cans, the dim glow of the television, and JJ Radchapon sprawled lazily on the couch, laughing into the collar of his oversized sweater.
"You’re terrible at Mario Kart, Mr. President," Net teased, nudging JJ’s socked foot with his knee as he cleared a stack of plastic cups.
"I let you win, Vice President," JJ shot back, eyes crinkling with that effortless, sunny charm that Net had secretly spent the last eight months memorizing. "Leadership is about empowering your team."
"Is that your official excuse?" Net murmured, stepping closer.
He didn't mean to crowd JJ's space, but gravity always seemed to tilt toward the older boy whenever they were alone. The alcohol in Net’s veins stripped away the careful composure he honed as a theatre major. When JJ looked up, the laughter died on his lips, replaced by a sudden, electric stillness.
"Net," JJ breathed, his voice dropping into a register that made Net’s chest ache.
"JJ."
Neither of them knew who moved first. One second there was cautious breathing, and the next, Net’s hand was tangled in JJ’s dark hair, pulling him up into a bruising, desperate kiss. JJ let out a soft gasp against Net’s mouth, opening instantly, his arms winding around Net’s neck with a ferocity that shattered every boundary they had spent the semester upholding.
They stumbled down the short hallway into Net’s bedroom, shedding clothes like burdensome protocol. When Net pushed JJ down onto the mattress, JJ looked flushed and utterly undone, chest rising and falling beneath Net’s hungry gaze.
"Tell me to stop," Net rasped, palms skimming down JJ’s ribs, over the sharp jut of his hipbones.
"Don't you dare," JJ whispered, reaching down to undo the button of Net’s jeans.
The heat between them was staggering. Net leaned down, kissing a path along JJ’s jawline down to his collarbone, sucking a dark mark into the warm skin until JJ arched, hands gripping Net’s shoulders. Net worked two fingers into his bedside drawer, fetching lube, his pulse hammering against his ribs. When he coated his fingers and slid the first one between JJ’s parted thighs, JJ gasped, head thrown back against the pillows.
"You're so tight, JJ... breathe for me," Net murmured, leaning over to catch JJ’s mouth again, swallowing his whines as he worked a second finger inside, stretching him with deliberate, agonizing patience.
JJ writhed beneath him, hips lifting unconsciously, seeking friction. "Net... please, that’s enough, I want you."
Net didn't need to be told twice. He shucked off his briefs, rolled on protection with trembling hands, and positioned himself at JJ's entrance. Meeting JJ’s wide, dark eyes, Net slowly pushed inside.
JJ cried out, nails digging deep into Net’s back as the thick head breached him, stretching him impossibly full. "Fuck, Net—"
"I’ve got you," Net groaned, holding still until JJ’s internal tremors subsided, his forehead resting against JJ’s damp temple. "Look at me. I've got you."
When JJ nodded, Net began to move. He drew back and thrust in with long, deep strokes that drew ragged groans from JJ’s throat. The sound drove Net wild. He picked up the rhythm, his hips snapping forward, driving relentlessly into the sweet, hot core of the student council president. JJ’s legs hooked high around Net’s waist, pulling him deeper, every collision of their bodies sending wet, slapping sounds echoing through the dimly lit room.
Net reached down between their sweating bodies, wrapping his hand around JJ’s rigid length, pumping him in sync with his thrusts. JJ completely lost his composure, sobbing out incoherent praises and broken words, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure overwhelmed him.
"Open your eyes, look at me," Net demanded softly, thrusting hard against that sensitive spot inside.
JJ complied, tears of sheer ecstasy brimming in his lashes. "Net, Net, I’m—ah!"
With a few more bruising, frantic strokes, JJ spilled across their stomachs, his inner muscles clenching down violently on Net’s shaft. That exquisite clamp was all it took; Net threw his head back, letting out a low, guttural roar as he emptied himself into the latex, shivering with aftershocks as he collapsed gently over JJ’s warm, trembling frame.
They fell asleep tangled together in the quiet wreckage of the sheets, warm skin against warm skin, defenses utterly obliterated.
***
Panic arrived with the seven o'clock morning sun.
JJ’s eyes snapped open. The dull ache in his hips and the sticky warmth against his thigh were immediate, brutal reminders of reality. He turned his head slowly to see Net—peaceful, glowing, softly snoring with an arm slung possessively across JJ’s waist.
*Oh, god. Oh, nononono.*
JJ’s breath caught in his throat. What had they done? They were the pillars of the council. They were friends. Net was just drunk. *They* were both drunk. If Net woke up and realized what happened, the awkwardness would destroy everything—their friendship, the council's dynamic, Net’s respect for him. It was a classic, regretful college mistake.
Quietly, like a burglar in his own nightmare, JJ lifted Net’s heavy arm, slid out from under the covers, gathered his crumpled clothes from the floor, and bolted out the front door without even putting on his shoes properly.
***
When Net woke up to an empty, cold bed, his heart plummeted. Then he saw the discarded sock by the hallway and the front door locked from the outside.
A slow, dangerous spark of annoyance ignited in his chest. "Radchapon, you idiot coward," Net muttered to the empty ceiling.
Two hours later, campus was buzzing, and the hunt began.
Net spotted his prey on the second floor of the humanities building, clutching a coffee cup and wearing a hoodie pulled so low over his eyes that he looked like a fugitive.
"JJ!" Net called out, voice carrying the effortless projection of a theatre lead.
JJ froze, glanced over his shoulder, saw Net marching down the corridor with absolute purpose, and did the only reasonable thing: he spun around and broke into a dead sprint.
"JJ, stop running!" Net shouted, breaking into a jog.
JJ darted around the corner and ducked into the open student lounge. Sitting at the corner table, Latte and Ohm were busy sharing a box of pastries. Ohm blinked, toast halfway to his mouth, as their council president barrelled past, vaulted over an empty beanbag chair, and scrambled behind a whiteboard.
A second later, Net strolled in, breath completely steady, eyes scanning the room like a hawk.
"Morning, Vice President," Latte said slowly, looking between the vibrating whiteboard and Net. "Lose something?"
"Just the president," Net replied pleasantly, not breaking stride. "Don't mind us."
JJ abandoned his cover and dashed out the side exit into the courtyard.
"Did JJ just hurdle furniture to get away from Net?" Ohm asked around a mouthful of pastry.
"Five hundred baht says they hooked up last night," Latte replied calmly, taking a sip of iced tea.
The chase escalated across the central quad. JJ took the library stairs two at a time, heart pounding against his ribs, but his thighs burned with every step—an agonizing reminder of Net’s weight and enthusiasm from a few hours prior.
At the top of the steps, Keng, Namping, and Kim were lounging on the marble balustrade, reviewing budget sheets.
"Hey, JJ, we need your signature on the—" Keng started, holding up a clipboard.
"Can't talk! Executive business!" JJ gasped, blowing past them like a hurricane.
Before Keng could lower the clipboard, Net bounded up the stairs, effortlessly graceful, though his jaw was set with iron determination.
"Net?" Namping called out, amused. "Is there a fire?"
"Internal council crisis," Net threw over his shoulder, not slowing down for a fraction of a second. "Hold that document for twenty minutes."
Kim leaned back against the pillar, watching Net close the distance between himself and JJ near the admin wing. "I’ve never seen Net run for anything that didn't involve opening night rehearsals."
"And I’ve never seen JJ look so terrified of being kissed," Keng added with a slow grin. "They finally did it, didn't they?"
"Oh, absolutely," Namping chuckled.
JJ rounded the corner of the administration hall and shoved open the door to the student council headquarters. He slammed it shut, leaned his back against the wood, and gasped for air, his chest heaving. He was safe. Net wouldn't cause a scene in the official council room.
The brass handle turned.
JJ scrambled back as the door swung open. Net stepped inside, shut the heavy oak door behind him, and casually engaged the deadbolt with a soft *click*.
"Net, please," JJ said, raising both hands defensively, backing up until the edge of the conference table hit the small of his back. "Look, I know what you’re going to say. We made a mistake. We drank way too much soju, our defenses were down, and things got completely out of hand. I take full responsibility as president. We can just pretend it never happened, okay? Protocol stays intact. We’re good. Total professional slate wipe."
Net didn't answer right away. He simply walked forward, closing the distance with predatory confidence, until he was standing toe-to-toe with JJ. He planted one hand on the polished mahogany table beside JJ’s hip, effectively trapping him.
"A mistake?" Net asked, his tone dangerously soft.
"A-An accident," JJ stammered, his eyes darting to Net’s lips before flicking back up. "You were drunk."
"I was tipsy. You were tipsy," Net countered, leaning in until their breaths mingled. "And if that was a mistake, why did you pull me into your bedroom three weeks ago in your head? Why do you always bring me the iced caramel macchiato with oat milk before every single finance meeting?"
JJ’s cheeks flared crimson. "That’s just... good management!"
"And you letting me fuck you within an inch of your life on my sheets last night? Was that executive oversight?"
"Net!" JJ squeaked, mortified, glancing toward the frosted glass windows.
"I have been in love with you for half a year, Radchapon," Net said, dropping the theatrical bravado entirely. His dark eyes softened, laid bare with undeniable sincerity. "I volunteered for every miserable paperwork audit just to sit next to you. I learned your stage schedule so I wouldn't double-book your free hours. Last night wasn't an accident. The only thing I regret is that you woke up and thought I could ever look at what we did as a mistake."
JJ stared at him, stunned into total silence. His pulse, which had been racing from the sprint, now hammered for an entirely different reason. "You... you like me? For real?"
Net sighed, an exasperated, fond smile breaking across his features. "You are undeniably brilliant, JJ, but you are completely blind. Why else would I have chased you across three faculty buildings in broad daylight?"
"I thought... I thought you’d be disgusted. That you’d think I took advantage of you being drunk," JJ whispered, the vulnerability finally cracking through his cheerful exterior. "I've liked you for so long, Net. I couldn't bear the thought of you looking at me with regret."
Net gently cupped JJ’s jaw with his free hand, thumb sweeping over the high cheekbone. "Look at me. Do I look like a man full of regret?"
"You look mildly annoyed."
"I ran up the library steps in leather boots. I have the right to be mildly annoyed," Net murmured. Then, without giving JJ time to overthink, he leaned in and pressed their lips together.
Unlike the drunken, frantic hunger of the night before, this kiss was slow, deliberate, and undeniably real. JJ melted against Net’s touch, his hands coming up to grip Net’s blazer, pulling him closer until there was no daylight left between them. When Net pulled back, JJ’s lips were swollen, and his eyes were bright with a giddy, dazed warmth.
"So," Net whispered, his thumb brushing JJ’s lower lip. "Are you going to keep running, Mr. President?"
"No," JJ murmured, a breathless laugh escaping him. "Running hurts my legs today anyway. Wonder why."
Net smirked, leaning down to press a teasing kiss to the sensitive spot beneath JJ’s jaw. "Be my boyfriend."
"Only if you promise never to chase me through the quad again."
"Deal."
The sudden sound of knuckles rapping on the frosted glass broke the spell.
"Hey! Lovebirds!" Ohm’s voice carried through the door. "Can you unlock the office? We have the final budget sheets, and Keng owes Latte five hundred baht!"
JJ hid his burning face in Net’s shoulder, groaning softly. "They know. The entire council knows."
Net just laughed, looping an arm around JJ’s waist and pulling him against his side as he reached over to unlock the door.
"Let them," Net said happily, pulling the door open to face their grinning friends. "Meeting is adjourned anyway."