Trust

Blonde

"Oh fuck", Jimin pants. "Oh fuck, Wooyoung- there!" He slings his legs around my hips, effectively enabling me to fuck even deeper into him.

Not gonna lie – this feels good. It feels so good actually, to be inside Jimin, to draw all those desperate moans from him, and to have this warmth and pressure around my dick. It feels so fucking good.

But lately, my mind has been somewhere else – and just for a second I allow myself to close my eyes for a second and let my imagination take over... And suddenly it's not Jimin who's beneath me anymore – it's San. And he is fucking beautiful and breathless, with parted, red, swollen lips and black hair sticking to his forehead, faintly moaning my name, glazed eyes.

Oh God. I might cum so soon. "S-Sa...-" I stop mid-word – although I don't stop thrusting into him – and open my eyes again. Jimin is lying under me, blonde hair sticking to his forehead, looking up with glazed-over eyes. "What? Oh fuck..."

"I said – I'm – so – close." I wrap my fingers around his dick and start jerking him off, matching my thrusts.

As if on cue, Jimin throws his head back, exposing his throat. "Me too."

Half a minute later, he comes.

I watch his face turn blank for a second. I watch how his eyes flutter shut. I watch how he's gasping, at first from pleasure, then from overstimulation – and I feel nothing, except for the almost painful physical need to come.

I don't stop thrusting into him though - he's told me he likes this. Good for me.

But when I come a little later, it's not because of how hot Jimin looks beneath me or because of how he clenches around my dick once more.

It's because I tell myself that Jimin is actually San.

And maybe that's fucked up – but I don't care for the moment. I'm coming, and it feels like heaven.

Then I pull out of Jimin and immediately feel like shit. I can't do that again. If San ever finds out...

"Can you pass me the towel?", Jimin asks, and I stand up to get it for him.

"Here you are."

"Thanks."

While Jimin starts wiping the cum from his stomach and chest, I put my clothes back on. "I need to go now. See you soon."

"When?", he wants to know.

I shrug. "Whenever we feel like it, right?" Bullshit – more like when I feel like it. Which might already be tomorrow... but after my humiliating imagination coming to life just a few minutes ago, I seriously think it might take me a while, maybe a week or so, to get over this. To get over the fact that I think that my flatmate, who's only been walking around in long pants and t-shirts so far, is hotter than Jimin who's been stripping for me extra lasciviously just half an hour ago.