JoongDunk Ep2

Dunk ran a towel through his damp hair, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't stop thinking about the look Joong had given him earlier—the way his eyes lingered, filled with something more than just familiarity.

Joong never used to look at him like that.

Before all this, their relationship had been simple. Work came first, and everything else was secondary. They were both the same in that way, driven by their careers and focused on moving forward together. That was the reason Dunk had even suggested making out before filming their first bed scene. He had seen too many fan comments criticizing how stiff and forced his kisses looked. He wanted to change that. He wanted to improve. He wanted their kisses to feel real.

What the fans didn't know was that before stepping into the industry, he had never once imagined kissing a boy. He had only ever been with girls, and even then, he had little experience. Kissing had never meant much to him—it was just another thing people did. He hadn't expected that practicing behind the camera would complicate things.

Yet, here they were.

Joong used to only touch him when the cameras were rolling or when fans were watching. But now? Camera or no camera, Joong was always clinging to him, always seeking him out, always there. Dunk had caught himself watching him more, noticing things about him that he never had before. The way Joong's fingers always found an excuse to brush against his skin. The way his eyes darkened whenever they were alone. The way Dunk liked having him around.

And that was the problem.

He didn't know how to feel about this shift between them. It wasn't supposed to be this way. This wasn't supposed to affect their work. He liked Joong—he really did—but as his on-screen partner, not as something more. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Maybe it was time to put an end to their makeout sessions. That would be the smart thing to do.

But if he was being honest… he didn't want to stop.

Dunk loved seeing Joong crumble under his touch. He loved how easily he could undo him, how much power he held over him in those moments. It gave him a rush—an addicting kind of satisfaction.

And maybe that was the real problem.

Because he was starting to like it too much.

The vibration of his phone snapped Dunk out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen—Joong.

"Hello? Have you gotten home?" Dunk asked as he picked up the call.

"Yeah, I just got in," Joong's voice came through the line, steady and warm.

"Your condo or family house?"

"My condo. It's close to your place," Joong replied casually before adding, "I'm coming to pick you up tomorrow. We'll go to the filming location together."

Dunk sighed. "I told you not to worry about that. My dad will take me."

"I don't want your dad stressing himself. I'll be there at 7 AM. Good night. Dream of me."

Before Dunk could protest, the line went dead.

He stared at his phone, shaking his head. He really likes to stress himself, Dunk thought, tossing the device onto his nightstand.

But that night, just as Joong had teasingly told him to, Dunk did dream of him.

And in that dream, they crossed a line they had never dared to in real life. They weren't just kissing or touching—they were fucking.

Dunk jolted awake, his breath coming in sharp gasps, his body flushed and sticky. He ran a hand over his face, willing himself to calm down, but panic clawed at his chest.

What the fuck?

This was getting out of hand. Dreaming about Joong was one thing, but dreaming about having sex with him? Waking up in this state? It sent his mind spiraling.

Ever since this arrangement started, Dunk had never questioned his sexuality. He had never once thought of Joong as sexually attractive—not really. Even when they kissed, even when they got each other off in their dressing rooms, he had convinced himself it was just a natural response. It didn't matter if it was a guy or a girl—if someone touched you intimately, your body would react. That was just biology.

But this?

This was different.

This was undeniable.

He couldn't keep deluding himself anymore. Because now, it wasn't just about touching or making out for work.

He had dreamt about Joong fucking him.

And the worst part?

He had wanted it.

Dunk clenched his jaw, gripping the sheets as confusion crashed over him in waves. What the fuck is happening to me?

He didn't have the answers. But he knew one thing for sure—this was no longer just acting.

And that terrified him.