Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content, Non-Narcotic Drug Use
Nursing his hangover, Arthit takes a pill to ease the pain…and gets more pleasure than he asked for.
Arthit likes to think that he’s not the type to get drunk easily, and more often that not, he’s usually the last one still somewhat sober after some particularly rowdy nights out with the guys. It’s both a blessing and curse, in that while he rarely feels hungover the next day, he’s often stuck with the task of hauling his inebriated friends back to their dorms at the end of the night.
Tootah is usually the first to lose his composure, often ending the night by curling up and dramatically crying in one corner over his solitary relationship status and mourning his non-existent past relationships.
He’s closely followed by Prem, who becomes oddly quiet and vehemently glares at his liquor glass on the table as if conjuring up telepathic powers to break it into a million shards.
Bright becomes an exaggerated version of his usual self, starting by (unsuccessfully) hitting on every girl (and one time, a guy) in his line of vision, before gradually moving on to rather entertaining attempts at seducing inanimate objects .
Even Knot, who is unanimously agreed to be the most level-headed member of their group, struggles to stay awake after about three beers.
But, possibly because he’d been in a particularly high spirits that night, celebrating the end of the semester, or because he knew that someone would be around to take him home, Arthit had had a few more drinks than he normally would. As the alcohol settled, he’d launched into a surprisingly coherent lecture for anyone who would listen to him about the basic principles of organic chemistry and listing off the atomic structures of various synthetic polymers.
In this particular instance, his sole audience member had been none other than his boyfriend, who’d remained mostly sober, and had listened to every word, convincingly nodding in encouragement and offering reassuring compliments to the effect of That’s fascinating, P’, and You’re so smart, P’, delivered in earnest with an amused, endearing smile. Kongpob barely even pays mind to his own friends, who are in various states of drunkenness themselves.
Arthit had continued his lecture all the way back to his dorm, comparing the different advantages of injection moulding of polypropylene versus those of extrusion methods. Kongpob had simply played the part of the attentive student until finally, Arthit had slowly drifted off into a peaceful sleep, muttering something about how he expected the supposed assignment to be turned in next lecture while Kongpob had promised him as such, feeding him sips of water through a straw.
When he stirs the next day, he tries twice as hard to force his eyes open, the daylight especially blinding to him. His head is a little foggy and he feels the beginning of a minor headache, but more in the way that one might feel after hanging upside down from a monkey bar for too long rather than a full on pounding migraine. He’s felt worse before, and is grateful that his slightly excessive intake the previous night had only brought him this minor extent of suffering.
He rolls onto his other side to face away from the window, and is met with Kongpob’s chest. His boyfriend is lying on his side, head resting on his propped up hand held up by his elbow.
“Good morning, P’Arthit,” he says gently, tucking a tuft of hair behind Arthit’s ear. “Or, almost noon, I guess.”
Arthit squints at the clock on the wall behind Kong. Indeed, it’s already 11AM. He groans slightly, then shifts himself up into a sitting position, Kongpob doing the same.
“What time did we get back last night?” he blinks blearily and rubs his eyes. His voice is hoarse and a bit scratchy, both from sleep and the alcohol. He takes in Kongpob’s decidedly fresh-looking state. “Did you already shower?”
“Almost 2AM. And yes, I’ve already showered. I only woke up a little bit before you.”
Arthit nods, and lazily drops his legs over the edge of the bed, heaving a dehydrated sigh before slowly padding to the bathroom. He takes a multi-purpose, all-encompassing shower, brushing his teeth and peeing while the shampoo rinses out of his hair.
Normally, he’d be grossed out at the idea of taking a piss in the shower, but he’s too groggy to care. Soon enough, though, the minty toothpaste and hot shower alleviate some of the dry burning in his throat, and serve to awaken his senses just a little more.
Kongpob is at the desk, tidying up a few stacks of papers as Arthit comes out of the bathroom in a fresh set of comfortable clothes. There’s still a mild tension in the forefront of his head, and he rubs his temples through his towel as he finishes drying his hair.
“Do you need a painkiller, P’Arthit?” Kongpob takes the towel from him and gently massages the fluffy cloth over his damp hair.
Arthit shakes his head briefly, watching Kongpob’s face as he intently rubs the towel at the nape of his neck.
“It’s fine, I’ve felt worse after a night out before.”
“You were very talkative last night, P’,” Kongpob grins teasingly, draping the towel over the back of the desk chair. “I learned a lot about different polymers.”
Arthit narrows his eyes in a half-hearted glare.
“At least I’m not a perverted or angry drunk. Nobody ever got hurt with a little more knowledge.”
“I’m not complaining, P’Arthit.”
They sit at the end of the bed, Arthit pulling his legs up on the mattress to sit cross-legged.
“Any plans for today?”
Kongpob shakes his head, leaning back on his wrists.
“I was thinking maybe we could go off campus for lunch later. That sound good?”
“Yeah, okay,” Arthit continues rubbing at his temples with the heels of his palms, an attempt to stimulate blood flow out of his head and through the rest of his body instead. “But I need to clean my room first. It’s a mess and I haven’t done laundry in a week.”
Kongpob nods, and pulls Arthit’s hands away from his head, pulling it down to plant a furtive kiss on his forehead. Arthit shuffles away, slightly pink, at which his boyfriend just chuckles.
“Are you sure you don’t need a painkiller? It would help more than endlessly rubbing your head.”
Arthit squeezes his eyes shut briefly. Maybe, just maybe, he could do with some relief.
“Fine,” he says. “There are some in the bathroom cabinet.”
Kongpob nods, and goes to fetch a glass of water as Arthit begins picking up stray clothing items off of various surfaces and piling them into his laundry basket. He sets the basket aside when his junior comes out of the bathroom with a small, white capsule and hands him the glass.
“Drink all of it. You’re probably dehydrated, too.”
Chucking the pill back, he glugs down the entire glass as though it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Instantly, the moisture sends relief down his dry throat.
“I’ll take this to the laundry room,” Kong says, picking up the full basket. “Be back in about ten minutes.”
Arthit nods, moving to make the bed as the room door clicks shut. He briefly smiles to himself, secretly glad that his boyfriend had stayed with him overnight to look after him. Not that he would ever admit it, but he liked being pampered every so often, and in his current state, he’s not really in the mood to refuse whatever affection Kongpob is willing to shower him with.
As he’s lifting the blanket over the width of the mattress, he catches a familiar whiff of Kongpob’s clean, musky scent. He runs a hand over the blanket to smooth it out, and begins to feel himself sweat slightly, his skin pricking with the faintest sheen of moisture. He must have been harbouring a mild fever, hence the headache, and the painkillers are helping him sweat it out. He’d never had them take effect so quickly before, though.
As he’s adjusting the pillows, smacking them repeatedly so they’re just the right amount of fluffy, the bed creaks slightly from the impact. His chest begins to warmly tingle with a sensation that he’s familiar with, but can’t at that moment quite put his finger on. He ignores it, moving to stack his loosely strewn textbooks into a pile on the end table.
However, it’s as he looks at himself in the mirror at the end table near the door, that he sees his pupils blown wide, and his breath feels heavy, his blood trickling through his veins like a gush of warm water over his nerves. The nape of his neck is damp, although not from his washed hair, but from sweat.
Soon, Kongpob pushes the door handle open, placing the laundry basket into the bathroom under the sink, before noticing that Arthit is just staring at himself in the end table mirror.
“P’Arthit? Are you okay?”
He moves to take Arthit’s hand, pulling him towards him to look at his face, eyes wide with concern. Arthit doesn’t answer, finding himself looking straight into Kongpob’s bright eyes, his own half-lidded as his gaze flickers down to his boyfriend’s alluring, pink lips.
Kongpob just smiles, and leans forward to press his lips softly against Arthit’s in a sweet, patient kiss, mouths gently nibbling at each other at a comfortable pace. Something seems to stir in Arthit as he feels his boyfriend’s arms snake around his waist, the wave of tingling nerves washing over him even more intensely now, and he recognises the well-acquainted sensation that’s been building up in his chest for the past few minutes.
The faint sweating, the heated prickling of his skin, the tingling nerves.
He doesn’t have a fever. He’s…horny.
And rather than pausing to question why, mostly because they’re already kissing and stopping to Google his ‘symptoms’ right now somehow seems more embarrassing than admitting that he’s turned on, he decides to give in to his body. Kongpob almost startles back when he feels Arthit exhale heavily and pull him closer, deepening their simple kiss into a searing, desperate one.
He’s further alarmed when Arthit is the one to hungrily capture his lips again, drinking in his gasp as his back hits the wall near the front door. Arthit isn’t sure what’s happening, but all he knows is that right now, he feels a dying thirst that can only be quenched by kissing his boyfriend. His hands seem to have a mind of their own, grasping at the material at the sides of Kongpob’s shirt as his mouth moves down to leave wet, open mouthed grazes against his junior’s sharp jaw.
“P-P’Arthit…” Kongpob whispers breathily, bringing his hands up to dig his fingers into Arthit’s hair. “Are…are you feeling okay?”
“Shut up, Kong,” comes the response, low and almost growling as his hands work their way to the hem of his boyfriend’s shirt, shoving the soft fabric up his chest as he lowers his head to leave more hot, moist kisses on tanned skin. Soon, he’s pulling the offending shirt over Kongpob’s head, and wrestling his own off before tossing both on the floor beside them, much to his lover’s understandable shock.
He can already feel his erection growing in his boxers, begging for any sort of contact. His lips take a break from Kongpob’s, pulling back only slightly to look into his fully blown pupils, trying to wordlessly communicate his desperation to be touched.
Thankfully, the younger male seems to receive his silent plea, walking Arthit backwards until he’s leaning against the other wall, hands groping their way down pale, milky skin and thumbs grazing over pinkish-brown nipples, hard even before the heated contact.
Arthit’s desperation comes out in choked whimpers, his breaths sharp and quick, trying subtly to push Kongpob’s head further down until his boyfriend realises what it is he wants from him.
“P’Arthit, I’ve never seen you so…” Kongpob breathes, coming face to face with Arthit’s painfully hard length tenting in his boxers. “…needy.”
“I swear to god, Kong…” Arthit groans, his thumb toying with the elastic of his own boxers, but still maintaining a trace of his usual hesitance. His entire chest, groin and even his face is aching with desire, and if Kongpob doesn’t do something soon, he’s going to-
“Oh, fuck…” his voice trembles as Kongpob makes quick work of pulling down the sheer blue material and wasting no time taking the angry red length into his mouth, sucking softly at the head that’s already glazed with pre-cum. Arthit tangles his fingers in Kongpob’s dark locks, trying not to pull too hard, but needing to hold onto something.
Kongpob runs a teasing lick from the base of his lover’s shaft, his tongue barely darting out, and occasionally he pauses to press soft, deliberate kisses along a protruding vein.
“Quit fucking around, Kong,” Arthit chokes out through clenched teeth, his grasp on the younger’s hair impossibly tighter. Kongpob is a little stunned, but takes him into his mouth, lips stretched around the girth and circling the tip of his tongue under the length, before he gasps, harshly being pulled back up by the hairs on the base of his neck, mouth meeting ravenously with Arthit’s again.
“Bed?” Kongpob whispers against Arthit’s cheek as the elder is shoving his shorts and underwear down together, firmly grabbing handfuls of his small, but firm, buttocks. Arthit shakes his head rapidly, finger tugging haphazardly at his boyfriend’s leaking length. “Are you sure? It’ll be more comfortable.”
“I…uh…I just made the bed,” Arthit’s head rolls back in a groan as Kong chuckles, his breath hot against the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, sending shivers through his body. They’d barely started kissing just mere minutes ago, but a raw hunger for contact is raging through him, and he may actually implode with need if he isn’t satisfied soon.
“But…lube…and condoms…” Kong gasps out lamely as he begins to blindly grind himself against his boyfriend, their erections carelessly sliding against each other, producing the most beautiful moan from Arthit’s lips.
“I don’t care. Just…just do it here.”
“Are you sure? It’s right th-“
“For fuck’s sake, Kong, I’m not going to get pregnant!”
The normally stoic hazer grabs Kongpob’s hand and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on the tan, slim digits greedily as they continue to roll their hips together. His junior just stares incredulously at the puffy pink lips that his fingers disappear between, still trying to process what’s happening, but in no way complaining. Deciding that the fingers are wet enough, Arthit turns himself around, one hand grasping at the wall, the other pushing Kongpob’s hand down to his puckering entrance.
Of course, Kongpob takes his time, gently inserting the first finger with tantalisingly slow movements, his mouth pressed beneath Arthit’s ear, suckling at the skin there and drawing out needy, high-pitched gasps.
“Are you sure you’re not still drunk, P’?” he says, maneuvering a second finger into the warm, wet hole, scissoring into it gently and gradually.
“Do you hear me l-lecturing you – ahhhh – about polyethelene?” his whimpers, still trying to sound somewhat intimidating, despite his painfully hard length slowly overtaking the thinking process.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Kongpob chuckles slightly, taking Arthit’s earlobe between his teeth, grazing lightly over the skin. “You’re very sexy when you talk about polymer engineering.”
“Kongpob!” he tries to scold his junior, but it comes out as more of a pleasured cry. “S-stop talking and just fuck me already!” he whisper-yells, turning back around and pulling his stunned junior towards him.
Kongpob stammers, stepping closer yet and hooking Arthit’s leg behind his back before lining himself to his entrance. He spits into his hand, giving his own throbbing cock a few more pumps before pushing the head in slowly, earning a hiss (of pleasure? of pain?) from the elder, whose eyes are squeezed shut. Kongpob shudders at the raw sensation, for the first time feeling the full extent of his lover’s warm, impossibly tight cavern, his breath trembling when he’s fully inside.
Arthit pulls his lover’s face towards him, feeling the need to kiss him, both to hide his own embarrassment as well to soothe the sharp sensation in his nether regions. They still against each other for a few moments, simply breathing lazily into each other’s mouths and grazing their noses together. Several more breathy kisses, and then Arthit’s raised leg pulls him closer, indicating for Kong to move.
Both boys’ lips erupt with loud, urgent moans as Kongpob slowly builds up a steady rhythm, one hand pressed against the wall beside Arthit’s head to steady himself.
“Mmm…Kong…” Arthit can barely keep his eyes open, his head thrashing against the wall behind him as his prostate is repeatedly pounded into. His impending climax escalates far sooner than it normally would, their bodies only having been fused together for less than a minute. He’s gasping for air now, shaken cries of delicious anguish emitting from him as Kongpob’s movements jolt his entire body upwards with each thrust. “I’m gonna…mmrnnnaghhh!”
He muffles his scream into his boyfriend’s shoulder, his entire body clenching around Kongpob’s length. He erupts repeatedly against Kongpob’s stomach, paralysed momentarily by his all-consuming release. He’s never felt an orgasm this intense before, and he’s motionless and numb against the wall now, just barely shuddering when he feels Kongpob’s hips shake against him and the warm eruption of cum spill inside of him, indicating his lover’s own finish.
It takes another minute or so of Kongpob holding him up before Arthit can feel his legs again enough to stand on his own. He winces slightly as Kong slips out of him, lazily kissing his still panting mouth as a distraction.
Kongpob is catching his own breath now, both of them now shiny with sweat.
“You’re…already hard again, P’.” he says quietly, looking down between them. Indeed, Arthit’s length is still twitching and erect, although nowhere near as hungry for contact as it had been previously.
His face flushes, and he’s glad that he can blame it partially on their activity, but he still sidesteps out of the space between Kongpob and the wall, before slipping into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He rubs a hand over his face in embarrassment, feeling the trickle of cum running down his thigh, then steps into the shower for the second time that morning.
What on earth had possessed him to maul his boyfriend like that and behave like a wanton harlot? He groans in humiliation as he rinses away the suds from his body, reaching behind himself to clean the sore opening a little more thoroughly.
It’s as he’s looking in the mirror that he remembers that they’re supposed to go out for lunch, so after he gets dressed, towel around his shoulders, he opens the bathroom cabinet for his hair wax. But something else catches his eye.
He picks up the blister pack of painkillers, and narrows his eyes in confusion. The pack is still full, not a single pill having been taken out, which means –
His head snaps back up, and he sees it. It’s another blister pack, the white pills almost identical. You would never know the difference unless you took the time to read the tiny blue print in the shiny foil.
“Kong,” he says tersely, coming out of the bathroom.
His boyfriend has simply pulled his boxers back on, ready for his own turn in the shower. He looks up upon hearing his name being called.
“What did you give me earlier?” he holds up the two blister packs.
Kongpob looks between the two plastic packs and shrugs, brows furrowed in question.
Arthit shuts his eyes in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose. He holds up the unopened blister pack, showing it to his junior.
“These,” he shakes it for emphasis. “Are painkillers. These,” he holds up the other, opened pack. “Are…”
He trails off, not even believing he has to say it out loud.
“Are what, P’?” Kongpob stands up, taking the second blister pack from him, squinting to inspect the fine print. “What’s Spanish Fly?”
“I didn’t buy them myself!” he protests. “Bright bought them as a joke…when we first started dating.”
“What? I don’t get it. Are these not painkillers? What are they, then?”
“They’re…” he sighs and rolls his eyes, feeling his cheeks warm all the way to his ears. “An aphrodisiac.”
Kongpob’s look of confusion morphs into one of sheer amusement, before he laughs freely, pulling Arthit’s now very red face towards him, kissing the crease that’s formed between his angry brows.
“Awww, P’,” he chuckles as Arthit shoves him away by the shoulder.
“I’m gonna kill Bright…” he mutters, snatching the blister pack away and attempting to chuck them in the trashcan before Kongpob grabs his arm to stop him.
“Well, P’Arthit…” he says, taking a step closer, a cunning smile forming on his lips. “At least your headache is gone. Maybe you should take it again the next time you’re hungov-“
“Kongpob! Go shower and get dressed!”