Princess Rude

Soobin didn’t like Yeonjun who lived across the street. Or so he told himself every time a slightly damp hand went over his aroused cock and he gave himself pleasure, eventually cumming on the polaroids on his desk. Here’s a picture of Choi changing clothes, and here’s a picture of him with his bare torso drumming away on the drums, ungodly but painfully sexy, banging on them with his sticks. Next, the way he sleeps, enjoying his wet dreams with who knows whose participation, because even in the black-and-white photo it was clear to see his erect penis, which (Soobin knew!) would be as delightful as the obnoxious neighbor himself. Choi hated Yeonjun, and the reason was that when he came home at who knows what time, he would start trumpeting the drums, disturbing his sleep, and even annoying, and then on the same set fuck the bass player Beomgyu, as Choi later learned, — now an ex. If Soobin had not once peeked through the curtains of his bedroom window, which was so close that a few leaps would have been enough to end up on his neighbor’s windowsill, he would not have known that the asshole, though annoying, was sexy. Another reason Soobin didn’t like Choi Yeonjun, who understood only how he broke into his quiet life, was his sharp tongue. And to wrap that tongue around his throbbing cock as it would thrust into his throat, Choi wouldn’t say a word, but since rudeness is Yeonjun’s middle name, this fact pissed Soobin off inordinately. The third reason was that his neighbor ignored, or simply failed to notice, Soobin’s existence. And if Choi had been gifted with the same straightforwardness that Yeonjun had, he would have simply admitted that he wanted to fuck him good, so that he would put his whole voice down, shouting his name in ecstasy, and say goodbye to the desire to touch his ex, whom Soobin disliked exclusively because even after the loud breakup he had witnessed, Beomgyu was still moaning in Yeonjun’s bed. But still lacking such a gift, Choi had no choice but to indulge his fantasies by masturbating to the pictures he carefully kept on his desk or if there was a chance to cum with Yeonjun as he warmed his bed with the bass player, while Soobin was an unwitting (the hell with it!) an onlooker. And Soobin made no secret of the fact that it was not only the neighbor’s sexy appearance or his lusts and inability to keep his mouth shut and his dick in his pants that turned him on, but also the fact that even though Yeonjun, beyond his songs or lust, never noticed Soobin’s constant presence in his life. And if his thoughts were not overshadowed by his thirst for one day to get even with his obnoxious neighbor for all those sleepless nights caused by the drummer, Soobin would not have become so obsessed with the thoughts of Choi Yeonjun, who had so shattered his entire former existence. Soobin did not seek a meeting with Yeonjun. And he convinced himself so every damn time he found himself at the next bar where Choi’s band was to perform to look closely at the obnoxious neighbor, remember every detail of him, watch his concentrated facial features and follow every movement until his groin ached and Soobin began to think that it was his inevitable fate to cum in his pants in shame. So that when he returned home, he could once again touch the horny and impatient cock that had been so unbearably pressed against him by the pants' tab and, feeling the swollen veins under his hand, start imagining what they could do together if only the jerk with such a sweet-tasting name, Yeonjun, hadn’t been so blind. Choi was destined for one fate in Soobin’s fantasies: to moan under him, to beg and lust exclusively for him; to revel in lust as soon as their gazes would meet and the devils would dance in their eyes, and dream exclusively of him. And to think that all his thoughts, fantasies, and desires were about fucking Yeonjun, Soobin would not mind if the drummer took the initiative and began first by kissing him- rough, commanding, but so passionate that Soobin would not think of pushing him away. He’d mumble something back to him when Yeonjun crumpled his lips harder and bit down on the lower one, giving him a snide smirk, and broke the kiss openly, burning the thin web of mingled drool with his eyes, which would first tighten and then tear. And following the sharp movement, he will pull back his hair and nip at his neck, leaving marks on his skin, and start biting and pulling at his earlobe while Soobin himself feels Yeonjun’s aroused cock resting against his stomach, growling and whimpering with pleasure and wanting to finish the foreplay as soon as possible. Next, Yeonjun should sweep away anything that might hinder him and, turning around, interrupting his sweet torture, press forcefully on his shoulders, making Choi sit on his knees in front of him and hoarsely (oh, how sexy!) whisper something along the lines of “I want your lips on my dick. Now!”. And Soobin won’t mind, spellbound and so impatient, unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants off the guy’s thighs, dragging his underwear along with them. Choi would get rid of the only thing that could stop him. And then he will first gaze at the aroused flesh, grin at Yeonjun’s uninhibited arousal and, at first languidly touching only the red head, lick a glistening drop, raise his gaze to Choi, rolling his eyes in ecstasy, moaning with impatience. And Soobin will allow himself the liberty of repeating his own actions, teasing his neighbor, who has not an ounce of patience, kissing, but never taking into his mouth, the inviting flesh, until the latter, no longer having the desire — and strength — to hold back, runs his long fingers through his hair and presses harder on Soobin’s head. The warm head of his throat is pressed into his mouth, and at first Choi thinks that he is about to suffocate, but then he takes it deeper, traces the length of his tongue and smacks when just for a moment Yeonjus’s cock leaves his warm mouth before he roughly fucks his throat again, and Soobin does not object, stroking his own erect flesh through the fabric of his pants with his free hand. And when the obnoxious asshole can’t tolerate the climax of arousal, he will in one motion drop Soobin to the floor, making Choi’s shoulder blades rest against the carpet, and sit on his thighs, making sure to let down something dirty but arousing from his mouth, causing Soobin to start rubbing his thigh against Yeonjun’s, giving clear hints of a feigned continuation. And the obnoxious neighbor, first tauntingly, will squeeze his cock, which cannot wait any longer, run his hand along the entire length teasing and smirking, and then make him undress and… “Oh-oh-shit,” Soobin stretched out each syllable. His cock throbbed, and a moment later drops of semen fell on the bedclothes, which he never had time to pick up with a napkin. This time Choi was able to last much longer in his own imagination, not cumming at the moment of Yeonjun’s husky voice, when the hated neighbor possessed him once again, shamelessly capturing every thought and every drop of wasted sperm. Wishing one day Soobin could hold out until the moment when he whispered dirty, lust-soaked words in Yeonjun’s ear and made him swallow and lick every drop, and if he missed any, test his warm mouth over and over again until he learned from his mistakes. Or linger in the one where the drummer would make him masturbate while he himself would watch from afar, before approaching Choi, whose body would crave him exclusively, and get into lecherous games known only to Yeonjun. And better yet, would Soobin be able to pull it off in person, reveling in the sight of the drummer dying with excitement, or moaning his name himself, unable to tolerate the growing and suffocating heat in his stomach. It did not matter who led this game, as long as the participant was the sexy and so obnoxious bastard Yeonjoon. And just before Choi could catch his breath, once again with just one foot got into the new fantasy that the drummer was dragging him into, who still not home, probably being extremely busy “rehearsing” with his (fuck him) ex, and wanting only to touch his body again, to rub the drop of pre-ejaculate that had come out in response to his thoughts, Soobin’s seclusion was brutally interrupted by a long knock on the door. “Damn you,” whoever was at the door appeared out of time, and Soobin didn’t think to open it. He closed his eyes again, cold fingers touched his swollen vein, and he mumbled something quietly, and then, still moaning softly into the pillow, he quickened his pace, giving himself again to the imaginary asshole Yeonjun, longing for his hand to bring him to orgasm to the last drop. And then the drummer broke into my subconscious in a voice not his own, somehow inarticulate, shouting, “Open up, lousy boy. I know you’re in.” Something made Choi instantly regret that the owner of the voice he knew, and then instantly realize that he was unprepared for the visit. He was masturbating, and also imagining being fucked by the hated, but — oh gods! — desirable, living across the street, a guy, and that was exactly what a friend shouldn’t have known, even with the threat of the death penalty. And Soobin had to rush out of bed instantly, hastily pulling on his pants, getting rid of all evidence leading to his vicious fantasies, and throwing dirty tissues out the window, launching not only the cold air but the faint moonlight into the room. He ruined the landscape of the courtyard. “Hey, Choi Soobin,” the guy outside the door wouldn’t let up, drumming harder and louder, and Soobin could literally smell a strong plume of alcohol in his words, and Choi didn’t even need to check to tell that his best friend was drunk. “Come on,” he hissed. Soobin didn’t want to go crazy from the incessant knocking on the door. One disturbing constant noise was enough, so he had no choice but to open the door, making sure no one would find out about his mischief, instantly regretting the decision. A pungent smell of alcohol hit Choi’s nose, and just as he was wondering how much Huening alone could have drunk to stand on his feet, he looked up at him with unfocused eyes, and, smiling strangely. “Soo-soobin,” the sound of his drunken laughter made Choi restrain his desire to close the door in front of Kai immediately, and smash his nose. Maybe that would bring him back to his senses. “Son of a bitch, what took you so long?” and instantly, “Have a drink wi-with me,” the bag appeared in front of the boy’s face, and something inside (he had to be an idiot not to know what it was) playfully jingled. Huening didn’t go in, he rolled into Choi’s apartment, shrugging him off, and stumbled into the first corner he could find, bumping either his forehead or his cheek. He was already in a state of shock, and Soobin didn’t really want to find out what it was he bumped into, but it was tempting to wish that at least this would sober Kai up and leave Choi alone with unfinished business again. “You should sober up,” the boy threw, snatching the bag from his friend’s hands, to which he received only a contemptuous look and something resembling a censure in his drawn eyebrows and a finger put forward, while he continued to make his way to the wall. Huening only made a loud cluck of his tongue at his words, or else he could hardly have said anything intelligible and made his point clear. Certainly not in his condition. Rubbing his forehead (so that’s where he’d find the lump in the morning after all) Kai staggered into the kitchen, not to bore Soobin with drunken babble about where he (the bastard!) had hidden the shots, or else for the sake of bumping into the first upholstered furniture in his path and passing out in a ridiculously uncomfortable position while Choi himself has to solve the difficult problem of how to get the vomit out of the landlady’s favorite carpet and not leave a tidy sum for dry-cleaning the couch. And what Soobin will definitely repay Kai with is a few dozen compromising photos that will decorate Huening’s bar in the morning. Breaking tradition would be unforgivable. Reluctantly, though, Choi slammed the front door and followed his friend, involuntarily tinkling the contents of the bag, while a drunken Kai looked at him like that dog who spotted his favorite Frisbee. And whatever it was with his best friend, Soobin didn’t want to see him now, when his imagination and excitement had unresolved business left. “What were you thinking, getting so drunk?” the question was purely rhetorical, in fact Soobin did not really want to know. “I-I wasn’t thinking,” of course, only a blind man can’t see it! “Keep me company,” Kai quite smugly reached for the bag, and before Choi could object to it, he took a sip from an already opened bottle of tequila and then grimaced as it made its way from his throat to his stomach. “You’re doing fine without me.” Soobin’s caustic words did not linger long in Huening’s alcohol-soaked brain, or perhaps he did not even hear them, as he clutched at the neck of the bottle again, as if alcohol was the only thing that could quench his beastly thirst. Although Choi was sure it wasn’t the thirst, he hoped with every fiber of his being that he could kick his best friend out the door and let his imagination finish what he started and only listen to his drunken babble afterwards. To do so would have been outrageous, to say the least, but (oh, hell!) in Soobin’s subconscious was still alive the fantasy of the obnoxious Yeonjun, who was about to bring him to orgasm with his commanding voice alone. For lack of alternatives, Choi sat across from Kai, already thinking that getting drunk wasn’t such a bad idea. The excitement eating at him had to be dealt with, and if not by obvious methods, then by some other means, lest his best friend’s drunken mind suddenly decide that Soobin’s erection was the result of his appearance and not a sudden intervention. And when Soobin wanted to reach out and take the bottle from Kai’s hands, who wasn’t even hiding the snide expression in his eyes and actions, he turned the bottle over and let the last clear drop roll down the glass container, tongue out, looking more and more like Choi the little dog. At his best friend’s posturing, Soobin let out a chuckle and, knowing for sure that one bottle would never be the end of their drinking binge, took another one out of the bag. Huening’s love of tequila was not particularly shared by Soobin, but probably the lack of alternatives (or so he convinced himself) made him fill his glass with the crystal-clear liquid and push another one aside for Kai, just to make the drunken dog look something more like a normal person. “One glass and you’re behind me,” Soobin was subdued, but Huening, as if thinking about something, smiled strangely again and nodded vigorously, looking more and more like a dog. And Choi wouldn’t have thought to get wasted, wouldn’t have drained the glass in a few gulps, fighting the urge to cringe as the liquid traveled down his gullet. And after a couple more, Soobin didn’t find the tequila so disgusting and his friend’s company so annoying. And as the bottle rapidly emptied and Soobin’s brain became as rapidly intoxicated, the image of the impossibly sexy Yeonjun, who was hanging around in whose company, began to appear less and less in his mind. Huening kept pouring more and more, not leaving Soobin’s glass dry and for a moment, talking about penalty shots, and then saying something inarticulate, but in the drunken Choi’s opinion terribly encouraging, making him drink more and more until finally, Soobin had reached the condition in which he originally met Kai at the doorstep of his apartment. “So why are you drunk?” Soobin’s voice wasn’t sober, but, unlike Huening, at least he could speak clearly. “You’re dr-drunk, too,” Kai laughed, and filled the glasses again. “We’re both so fucking drunk.” “Not that,” Choi said, waving his hand in the air demonstratively. “You were already drunk when you walked in here.” They were both amused, and Soobin did not think that Huening would find something in his own question that would make his eyes instantly darken, and he would drink another glass at a swig before he looked up from his drunken stare (he could hardly keep his eyelids open!). He muttered something inaudible under his breath, leaving Choi without a single hope of being able to make out a word. “What does it mean?” or maybe it was just that his mind didn’t want to understand anything from Kai’s side. “We… no, I was abandoned, taken advantage of,” Huening muttered suppressed, and added, “How shitty that sounds.” Before Soobin could ask any more questions to at least try to put the puzzle together in his alcohol-soaked head, Kai drank more and dipped the edge of the glass into the salt. “Sounds bad,” Soobin nodded, instantly realizing that this action was unnecessary — his head was spinning. “She’s gone,” the alcohol probably loosened Huening’s tongue if he couldn’t stop. “She found someone richer and older in the States, returned the keys to the apartment. I said goodbye and blurted out that in the pursuit of money all that would flash before her would not be initiatives and a carefree life, but an old man’s balls and his sagging and flabby cock, and she got angry, slapped me and left, saying that I was better flabby than my little one.” Probably because of the alcohol in his blood, Soobin couldn’t hold back his serious expression, no matter how hard he tried, and burst out laughing. Choi burst into incessant laughter, leaving the situation to his subconscious. As soon as he imagined it, everything became more absurd. The laughter didn’t stop until his stomach went into spasm, tears came to his eyes, and his lungs collapsed from the lack of oxygen, silencing him. “And is it really small?” the alcohol made him say it, sending another chuckle down his spine. Under any other circumstances, Choi wouldn’t have been interested in the size of his friend’s penis, or whether the alcohol-washed brain managed to convince him of that so easily and quickly, it didn’t matter. “No!” fidgeted Huening, whose cheeks were flushed. Or was it the alcohol? “No, really, little one?” Choi didn’t let up and burst into laughter again. In Soobin’s drunken opinion it was hilarious. “Stop it,” Kai whimpered. “Okay, Mister-I-have-a-little-dick.” “Fuck you!” Giving Choi a disapproving look, Huening either embarrassed or annoyed, kicked Soobin under the table and drank more, while Choi responded with another drunken chuckle. Never before, in Soobin’s opinion, had Kai been so much fun. And it wasn’t the alcohol (though it was that, too) or Soobin’s interrupted solitude, but, in Choi’s opinion, it was the atmosphere that was to blame. Soobin was utterly amused by his best friend’s reaction, and it would have been right to console Huening and feel sorry for him and tell him that she wasn’t worth it, but how could he help himself when the alcohol had already hit him hard and untied his tongue. To be clear, he couldn’t. Before Choi’s inebriated mind could mutter something else, making a mockery of Huening’s precarious position, Kai, whether he was more sobered up or simply less despondent, looked at Soobin expectantly and kicked his chair leg with his foot lightly. “What?” “Come to the bar tomorrow night,” he mumbled suddenly. “What’s that for?” Soobin looked ridiculous with his eyebrows drawn together. He couldn’t look serious when he was drunk. “Just,” Huening swallowed, glancing around the second empty bottle. And instantly, “I want to get drunk half to death.” “Nope,” Choi brushed it aside and, like he’d done earlier, slashed the air with his wrist in confirmation of his own words. “I’m not going. I had plans,” Soobin let out a sudden hiccup, which made him cover his mouth with his hand in a guilty smile. “No,” Kai shook his head, and then grabbed it instantly, mussing his hair and adding through a chuckle, “I’m dizzy.” “And here I was,” and despite the obvious lies that came out of Soobin’s mouth, his intoxicated head was sure that to change his best friend’s mind was his only goal. “I have a date,” he blurted indiscriminately. “Lying?” Huening arched an eyebrow. “Yeah,” it didn’t take long for Soobin to flutter up and gibberish. “I mean, no,” the look across from him had not an ounce of faith in what he said, only the realization that Soobin was caught. “Damn!” surrendered Choi. Either he was so drunk that he’d forgotten how to lie, or Kai had become extremely perceptive on the same grounds, Soobin certainly didn’t want to know. “It’s decided. Tomorrow, I have you all to myself,” he said, giving Soobin a pleased or even a sarcastic smile, or rather something in his drunken likeness. And just when Choi regretted the decision of his alcohol-soaked brain to surrender and honestly confess his not quite obvious lie, Huening for the umpteenth time (and really, for the umpteenth time?) he filled his glasses, leaned on the tabletop, and muttered to himself: “All the more reason for us to have e-entertainment, too. Some guy today…” he held his head, and Kai’s eyebrows drew together in confusion and he pouted. “What was his name? Beo… Beom… That’s right! Beomgyu,” the guy held up his index finger as if he hadn’t dug up a name in his drunken mind, but had come up with the idea to save the world. “He left a brochure for the group he belongs to. And I th-thought it had been quiet in the bar for a long time, so I agreed.” Choi’s eyes widened momentarily, and it seemed like a complete miracle and luck to Soobin that he had listened to the end of the sentence before his head began to process Huening’s words. “And that Beomgyu again,” Soobin mentally grimaced at the thought of the annoying ex, whose moaning he had to listen to all the time, and then instantly realized, “But Yeonjun will be there, too. That’s freaking lucky!” After Huening’s words, not only did the idea of visiting Kai’s bar and getting drunk again sound good — offer only Soobin anything, giving only a slight hint that an obnoxious neighbor would be there, who (which time?) wouldn’t notice, but would give so much ground for fantasy, Choi would not only agree, but would also run, wagging his tail. “Okay,” Choi looked away, ineptly hiding the excitement in his voice in an attempt to clear his throat. “Really?” and once again his best friend took on the look of that same doggie, making Soobin wonder if he would chase the bottle like a stick if he threw it in the other corner. What on earth was occupying his intoxicated head I should not have known better. “Exclusively because you need company to soothe your mental wounds and someone to talk you out of doing something stupid,” is an obvious lie, but how would Huening know that? That’s right — he can’t. “I’m not a little kid.” “Of course you are. And you’re not the one who does all the drunken things you can think of,” Soobin covered his mouth with his hand as another drunken chuckle prepared to burst from his lips. What about their drinking at Soobin’s birthday party, when Huening almost climbed up the pole, either to surprise his best friend or to kill him with his incessant laughter. “It’s purely for the purpose of keeping the bar,” he added with a more serious look (hell no!). “Soo-soobin, you’re a son of a bitch, you know that?” another sip of alcohol went into Kai’s stomach, and with it evaporated his feigned resentment in his voice. “How could I not know,” Choi grinned. And if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t have much trouble getting drunk, which was impossible to say about Huening, maybe (just maybe!) Soobin wouldn’t be staring so intently back at his best friend, who with that same strange smile of his, was burning him with his gaze. Would Choi have been a real idiot if he hadn’t realized that the gears were already turning in Kai’s stupefied head, slowly distilling the alcoholic plume not only into his bright head, but into his thoughts. And that, as experience had shown, meant no good at all. “What are you up to?” Soobin leaned forward a little, and wished he could pull away instantly. The level of alcoholic ambrosia was exceeding the norm. “To get you drunk, so that in the morning you’ll regret that I’m your friend.”