Harolin froze, buried to the hilt, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still. Sweat dripped from his brow onto Ruaan’s face. "Breathe, Ru. Just breathe. I’m all the way in. The worst is over."

He wasn’t moving. He just stayed there, letting Ruaan’s body desperately try to accommodate his size. The initial searing pain began to recede, fading into a deep, throbbing ache. And beneath that ache, something else began to stir. A feeling of fullness that wasn’t entirely painful. A sense of being completely possessed.

It hurt.

Not the way Ruaan had imagined it would hurt. Not sharp or tearing. It was more like a pressure that was too much and not enough at the same time, building and building, a fullness that bordered on pain. His eyes were wet, tears leaking from the corners. He didn’t tell Harolin to stop because he also didn’t want him to stop, which made no sense. This was exactly what Seo’s books had told him could happen, but knowing it and experiencing it were apparently different things.

Ruaan’s sobs quieted to hiccupping breaths. He felt Harolin’s heartbeat where they were joined, a frantic rhythm against his own.

"Okay?" Harolin asked, his voice strained.

"I... I don’t know," Ruaan admitted honestly.

"Tell me when you want me to move."

A minute passed. The ache settled. The feeling of being stretched became just... a feeling. A dominant, overwhelming fact of his existence in that moment. He felt Harolin inside him, every inch, and a strange sense of rightness washed over him.

"Move," Ruaan whispered. "Please, move."

Harolin obeyed with a reverent slowness. He drew back almost all the way, then slid back in. It was still intense, still a stretch, but the sharp pain was gone, replaced by a friction that was starting to spark heat in Ruaan’s belly.

"Again," Ruaan breathed.

Harolin set a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust was measured, pushing Ruaan back against the doorjamb. The sounds were filthy: skin slapping against skin, their ragged breaths, the wet, slick noise of their joining.

"How does it feel?" Harolin grunted, his pace gradually increasing.

"Full... so full..." Ruaan moaned. "You’re so deep."

"Deep? I like that. Tell me Ru, whose hole is this?" Harolin demanded, snapping his hips harder.

"Yours!" The answer came without thought. "It’s yours, Lily!"

"Damn right it is." Harolin’s control was fraying. His thrusts became faster, harder, driving into Ruaan with a power that stole his breath. But with every deep stroke, that spark of pleasure grew, fanning into a flame. Harolin’s cock was rubbing against that same spot inside him, sending shocks of pure electricity through his nerves.

The pain was a distant memory. Now, there was only the building, coiling pleasure. Ruaan’s cries turned from pain to wanton moans. He was meeting Harolin thrust for thrust, his own cock trapped between their sweat-slicked stomachs, leaking and neglected but throbbing in time with the pounding rhythm.

"You like it," Harolin accused, his voice guttural. "You love my cock in your tight little ass, don’t you? My shy Ru is a slut for it."

"Shut up, but Yes!" Ruaan screamed, the vulgarity feeding his hunger. "I love it! Fuck me harder! Please, I need more!"

Harolin snarled and slammed into him with renewed force. One arm hooked under Ruaan’s knee, hiking his leg up higher, changing the angle. The next thrust hit his prostate dead-on.

Ruaan saw stars. A scream was torn from his throat, long and loud. "THERE! Right there, don’t stop!"

"Come for me," Harolin ordered, pounding into that spot relentlessly. "Come on my cock like the good boy you are."

It was too much. The coil snapped. Pleasure erupted through Ruaan in a violent, mind-blowing wave. His back arched off the door as he came untouched, stripes of white painting both their stomachs. His hole clenched and fluttered around Harolin’s length in rhythmic pulses, milking him.

The intense tightness tipped Harolin over the edge. With a final, deep roar, he buried himself as deep as possible and came, pulsing hot inside Ruaan. He held himself there, shuddering through his release, his forehead dropped to Ruaan’s shoulder.

For a long time, the only sounds were their heaving breaths and the drip of sweat onto the floor. Harolin slowly softened inside him and carefully pulled out. Ruaan winced at the sudden emptiness and the slick, wet feeling that followed.

His legs, still wrapped around Harolin, fell limply. He would have collapsed if Harolin hadn’t caught him, holding him up against the door.

Harolin looked at him. He was a mess of tears, sweat, cum, and blood-smudged lips. He gently wiped a thumb over Ruaan’s mouth. "Okay?" he asked, his voice back to that low rumble, but softer now.

Ruaan nodded, unable to speak. He was overwhelmed, sore, utterly spent, and humming with a satisfaction so deep it felt dangerous.

Harolin helped him pull his clothes back into some semblance of order, then righted his own uniform. He pulled the main office door open and took a step out into the empty corridor before turning back.

He cupped Ruaan’s face, making him look up. "You’re registered for Electrical. Report there in ten minutes." His thumb stroked Ruaan’s cheekbone. "And Ru? This doesn’t change what’s between us. This just means you’re mine."

"I know," Ruaan said.

"I’m still going to sabotage your game on Thursday."

"I fucking know."

"We’re still enemies."

"I know, Lily."

Harolin’s eye twitched, a faint betrayal of irritation at the nickname.

Ruaan straightened, smoothed his uniform, and walked to the storeroom door. He stopped with his hand on the handle.

"For the record," he said, not turning around. "It was just sex toys. In the bathroom, with Seo. Nobody put anything in me." He paused, letting the words hang in the dusty air. "Just so you know, you’re the first. You’d better be thankful,"

Silence behind him.

He opened the door and walked out, his body singing with aftershocks and his mind a chaotic storm of fear, shame, and a terrifying, thrilling sense of belonging.