Jonas stepped inside, balancing a box of his things. His eyes caught Rafael just finishing his shower, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. For a brief second, time slowed. Rafael's easy confidence, the way the damp hair clung to his forehead, it all hit Jonas like a quiet spark.
Rafael glanced up, eyebrows raised in surprise, then gave a small, knowing smile. "Hey. You must be the new roommate."
Jonas cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how loud his heartbeat sounded. "Yeah. Looks like it." He forced a casual grin and set his box down.
They shared a glance, the kind that felt like an unspoken question. Is he my type? Both of them thought the same thing but said nothing.
Jonas caught himself stealing a quick look at Rafael's relaxed stance. Yeah, definitely my type, he thought. But he masked it with a shrug.
Rafael, catching the glance, felt a tiny rush of something warm. Maybe he's my type too, he wondered quietly. But he just nodded and said, "I'm Rafael. Let me know if you need anything."
Jonas smiled again, a little softer this time. "Jonas. Thanks."
Neither of them said it out loud, but both felt that small, electric pull, an invisible thread tying their attention without them admitting it yet.
They both looked away first, pretending like it was nothing. But their minds were already racing, imagining what this new roommate situation might mean.
Jonas dropped his box by the door and started unpacking slowly, taking in the small space they were sharing. The room wasn't much, two single beds pushed close together with just enough space for a narrow coffee table between them. On the far side was the tiny bathroom, barely big enough for the shower and a sink.
Rafael, now fully dressed in a loose shirt and jeans, moved around the room with ease. He grabbed a towel from a hook and tossed it over the back of a chair.
Jonas couldn't help but watch him out of the corner of his eye. Rafael's casual movements, the way he took up the small room with confident ease, it was almost hypnotic.
Trying not to stare, Jonas arranged his things on the small desk by the window. A few textbooks, some clothes folded carefully, a plant he insisted on bringing despite the cramped space.
Rafael perched on his bed, stretching his arms and yawning. "Feels weird, huh? Sharing a room like this."
Jonas nodded, biting back a smile. "Yeah. But I guess it's better than being alone."
Rafael gave a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Company's not so bad."
The silence settled between them again, comfortable but charged with unspoken thoughts. Neither dared to admit just how much that company meant more than just convenience.
Jonas kept unpacking, but his hands moved slower than usual. Every now and then, his gaze flicked over to Rafael, who was now scrolling on his phone but still looking impossibly relaxed in the tight space.
Rafael caught one of those glances and smirked, but said nothing. Instead, he stretched again, deliberately showing just a little more ease, as if daring Jonas to look away.
Neither of them spoke about the awkwardness between them, but the room felt smaller with all the silent electricity hanging in the air.
Jonas told himself it was nothing. Just nerves. Just a first day in a new place.
But deep down, his thoughts kept circling back to Rafael, the way his smile tugged at something inside him, how his presence made the room warmer despite the cramped walls.
Rafael, on his end, was playing the same game. He told himself it was just curiosity, just passing interest.
Yet every time Jonas's eyes met his, his heart thudded harder, and his fingers twitched like they wanted to reach out but didn't.
They were two strangers pretending to be indifferent, while secretly tangled in a quiet obsession neither dared to name.
Days passed. Classes came and went in a blur of lectures, notes, and assignments. Jonas and Rafael moved through their separate worlds, each chasing a different major, with barely a word exchanged outside the dorm.
Jonas's days were filled with numbers and formulas, theories and experiments, while Rafael's schedule revolved around art studios and design critiques. Their paths rarely crossed on campus, their worlds orbiting different stars.
But once the sun dipped low, and the hum of campus faded into quiet, the dorm became their common ground.
They'd pass each other by the coffee table, exchange quick glances while pretending to focus on their own routines.
Small moments, Rafael brewing coffee while Jonas unpacked books, Jonas humming softly to himself as Rafael stretched by the window.
Those fleeting seconds were charged with something neither wanted to admit.
Outside the classroom walls, behind the quiet facades, their secret obsessions grew stronger, unnoticed by anyone but themselves.
Time slipped by in unspoken glances and stolen rituals. One semester passed like a dream neither of them wanted to wake from. It was no longer just about the room or the classes they came home from. It was about each other. And they both knew it, even if they never dared say it.
Jonas had memorized everything Rafael did. The way he tied his towel low on his hips after every shower. The way his brow furrowed when he read, like the pages whispered things meant only for him. The little groan he made when he stretched in the morning, it lived rent-free in Jonas's skull. He could even tell what kind of day Rafael had just by the weight of his footsteps outside the door.
And Rafael? He was no different.
He knew Jonas's scent before he even walked in. Could tell when he changed colognes. Could feel the shift in the air when Jonas took off his shirt, even if his back was turned. He'd wait until Jonas was gone to class, then quietly lift a worn hoodie from the hamper. Buried his face in it, breathing in so deep his chest hurt.
It was sick. Addictive. Perfect.
Rafael had an old shirt Jonas wore on stormy nights, the one with the faded band logo and soft, over-washed fabric. He called it his now. While Jonas had a pair of Rafael's briefs hidden in his pillowcase, one he pretended he "mistakenly" took from the laundry pile.
They'd sit across from each other every night, pretending to study. Pretending they didn't hear the way the other sighed just a little longer than necessary. Pretending not to feel the heat creeping up their necks when their knees brushed under the table.
They were obsessed. Madly. Quietly. Dangerously.
But neither of them dared to cross the line.
Not yet.
The dorm felt colder this time. Jonas stood by the door, suitcase in hand, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing through the room. Nothing had changed, yet everything felt different. It had only been three weeks since the semestral break began, but it might as well have been years. The silence, the absence, it clawed at his chest.
He glanced around. Rafael wasn't back yet.
Jonas dropped his bag by the foot of his bed, exhaling through his nose, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't admit it aloud, never would, but damn it, he missed him. Not just Rafael's presence, but the way his hair curled at the nape after a shower, the shirts he always forgot to fold, the soft groans he made in sleep. Jonas could count those sounds like lullabies.
He busied himself unpacking, slowly, trying not to check the door every other minute. Trying not to hope that when it did creak again, it would be him.
And then it happened.
The sound. That unmistakable turn of the knob.
Jonas's heart shot to his throat. He didn't move.
Rafael stepped in, dragging his duffel with him. His hair was a little longer, messier. A tan kissed his skin from the break. He looked up.
Their eyes met.
Just a beat.
"Hey," Rafael said, voice lower than usual.
Jonas nodded, casual. "Hey."
Silence stretched between them, comfortable but tight. Like a thread pulled too far, not snapping, just humming with pressure.
Rafael tossed his bag onto his bed, moving around the room like he hadn't spent every night of the break thinking about this exact moment. About the way Jonas's eyes always lingered too long, how his scent clung to the sheets, how the ghost of his presence refused to leave even when he wasn't here.
Jonas turned to face his drawers, hiding the smile tugging at his lips.
"I uh... grabbed coffee before coming back. You want anything later?" Rafael asked, like he wasn't already dying inside from the heat of just being in the same room again.
"I'm good," Jonas replied, like he hadn't just inhaled the scent of Rafael's cologne the moment he walked in.
It was a quiet war.
Unspoken hunger.
And god , the ache.
Not even the passing of days dulled it.
But they kept their distance. Pretended nothing ever happened. As if they didn't each memorize the other's absence like a wound.
Another semester.
Another dance.
The thread just got tighter.
It started like any other weekday, except Jonas wasn't in the room. He had left early for his morning class and texted Rafael halfway through the afternoon.
"Hey, forgot my textbook for Literature. Can you grab it? Should be on my desk. Thanks."
Short. Casual. Like it didn't twist Rafael's chest in ways he didn't want to name.
Still, he replied fast.
"On it."
He didn't have class until evening. It was a good excuse, no, a good reason,to do something that let him step into Jonas's space for a little while.
Their dorm building was nearly empty that hour, everyone either in class or off somewhere else. Rafael took the east wing stairwell. It was the one rarely used. Quiet, narrow, and a bit dusty from disuse, but it cut right through to the hallway near their door.
He didn't expect to hear voices.
Not in that stairwell.
Not his voice.
Rafael slowed, pausing halfway up the flight.
Jonas was laughing.
He didn't laugh like that often. It was soft. Light. A sound Rafael remembered from their rare movie nights, when something genuinely caught him off guard. It was real.
And it wasn't meant for him.
There, pressed against the dimly lit stairwell wall, Jonas was half-pinned by someone taller. Blond. Foreign. The new guy, the one Rafael had only seen in glimpses across campus. Their bodies too close. The blond leaning in, his hand brushing Jonas's hip. Jonas's fingers curled at the other boy's chest, not pushing, not pulling.
Just there.
Rafael froze.
Something sharp sank in his stomach. He couldn't breathe for a second.
He didn't mean to stare, but his legs wouldn't move. His chest felt too tight.
He should turn away.
He should call out, interrupt, laugh it off, anything,
Jonas tilted his head, said something Rafael couldn't hear. The blond leaned in. Their faces drew closer. Lips just an inch apart.
Rafael took a step back.
Then another.
He didn't make a sound, but his footsteps echoed anyway. Like guilt pounding through concrete.
He didn't look back.
Didn't need to.
He felt it already. Every silent obsession. Every stolen breath of scent. Every memory he had folded neatly in the back of his mind, burned.
That night, Rafael returned the textbook.
He didn't ask about the stairwell.
He didn't ask who the blond was.
He smiled like he didn't see a damn thing.
But later, when Jonas showered…
Rafael held the book in his hands.
He gripped it tight enough to crease the corner of the page.
And whispered to the silence, "I saw you."
Rafael lie on his bed at night, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling while the memory of Jonas against that wall replays over and over. The sound of laughter from Jonas's phone call on the other side of the room? It claws at him. The faint scent of Jonas's cologne when he comes back late from class? Torture.
He doesn't speak of it. He won't. He can't.
But oh, how it brews in him like a storm begging to break.
The dorm room was dim when Rafael returned.
Only the desk lamp on Jonas's side was on, casting a soft amber glow over his roommate's hunched figure. Jonas didn't even look up, just kept scribbling something in his notebook, headphones tucked into his ears like the world outside didn't exist.
Rafael stood by the door a second longer than necessary, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag.
He walked in with quiet steps, placing his things down with care, as if afraid to disturb the calm. But he couldn't stop the glance, his eyes flicked toward Jonas, tracing the shape of his jaw, the curve of his neck where a single bead of sweat clung. Probably ran to get back. Probably for him.
Rafael's jaw tightened. He turned away quickly, hiding his face.
The scent hit him next, Jonas's cologne, faint but laced with something else. The same perfume he'd caught clinging to Jonas's clothes for the past few days. Not his. Not theirs. Someone else's.
He opened his closet wordlessly, changed into a loose shirt and shorts, and flopped onto his bed. His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling again, the fan blades spinning overhead in a blur.
Minutes passed. The sound of pen scratching on paper, the occasional rustle of pages, filled the space between them.
Then, Jonas finally spoke.
"Hey," he said, casually, as if he hadn't just been missing for most of the day. "Raf, you okay?"
Rafael didn't look at him. "Fine."
Jonas hesitated. "You've been kinda quiet lately."
Rafael gave a small shrug, one that meant nothing and everything.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jonas shift, pulling his legs up onto his bed, hugging his knees lazily.
"That guy, Lars, he's pretty chill," Jonas offered like it meant nothing, like he wasn't shoving a dagger deeper. "Helped me out with a few classes. I guess we kinda clicked."
Rafael's throat tightened. He managed a nod. "Cool."
Jonas stared at him longer, like he was waiting for something else. But Rafael gave him nothing.
He turned to face the wall instead, fists curling into the sheets beneath him, his chest tight with an ache he couldn't name out loud.
Jonas didn't say anything else after that.
The room went silent again.
But in Rafael's chest, the storm only grew.
The dorm room was quiet, eerily so. Only the low hum of the old fan and the occasional shuffle from the hallway filled the silence. Rafael stared at his phone, Jonas' message glowing back at him like a taunt.
"Out late tonight. Don't wait up. Lock the door, I've got my keys."
Attached was a group photo, taken in poor lighting, but clear enough. Jonas was smiling, standing too close to Lars. The guy's arm casually draped behind him. Like it belonged there.
Rafael's jaw tightened. He zoomed in. Again. And again. That smile. That closeness. Jonas looked happy.
But not with him.
The phone landed face down on the desk. He didn't mean to throw it. He just… couldn't look at it anymore.
He stood, pacing the tiny space between their beds like a caged animal. Jonas hadn't done his laundry. The pile sat there in his usual lazy heap by the corner, still warm from the week's wear.
Rafael's breath hitched.
No.
He shouldn't.
But his legs moved anyway, as if guided by something darker than thought. He knelt down, fingers brushing through cotton and denim, breath getting heavier, throat dry.
And there it was.
A pair of briefs, carelessly folded among the mess. Jonas' scent clung to it, faint, but unmistakable. Warm skin, shampoo, sweat from rushed mornings and long nights studying. That scent he memorized every time Jonas walked by, every time they brushed shoulders, every time they slept less than a meter apart.
He brought it to his face.
Inhaled.
A guttural sound broke from his throat, and his knees gave out. He sank onto Jonas' bed, holding that fabric like it was a lifeline. His body trembled, each breath deeper than the last. His heart thudded against his ribs like it wanted to break out.
It wasn't just about lust.
It was possession. Obsession. A desperate claim over someone who didn't even know he was wanted this much. Needed this badly.
His hand gripped tighter.
His breath turned ragged.
And in the middle of that quiet night, the perfect roommate, the composed student, the quiet boy who never said a word, let the storm inside him take over.
Rafael burned.
And Jonas would never know.
Or maybe he would.
Someday.
The room was stifling, air heavy with heat and something primal. Rafael was far gone now, sweat-dampened skin, lips parted, eyes glazed over with hunger that had been starved for far too long.
He didn't hear the soft clink of a key turning in the lock.
Didn't catch the quiet click of the door creaking open.
Jonas stood frozen at the threshold. One foot in, one out, the dim light from the hallway stretching across the floor like a spotlight… and there he saw it.
Rafael. On his bed. Chest heaving. One hand hidden beneath the hem of his shirt, the other gripped tight around----
Jonas blinked, unable to move, unable to breathe.
Then his eyes fell on the piece of fabric clenched in Rafael's fist.
His underwear.
His heart punched through his ribs. Panic kicked in.
He didn't mean to slam the door shut, but his trembling fingers forced it closed with more force than he meant. The lock clicked again behind him.
And Jonas ran.
Down the hall, down the stairs, away from the suffocating pulse pounding in his ears. His face was flushed, his hands shaking as he clutched the railing outside the dorm building, gasping for air like he had just escaped a burning house.
He didn't know what he felt.
Shock. Confusion. A jolt of something else too deep to name.
But most of all, he couldn't erase that image. Rafael's face, lost in ecstasy, moaning out a name he didn't hear… but feared might be his.
Minutes passed before Jonas could collect himself. Before he wiped the heat from his skin, smoothed his hair back, and forced his legs to move again.
Back up the stairs.
Back into the lion's den.
And when he entered the room again, he smiled.
Cool. Casual.
Like he hadn't just witnessed the deepest, most forbidden part of his roommate's desire.
Like he didn't feel it burning under his skin too.
Jonas wakes up before Rafael. He's barely slept, the memory of last night burned into his eyelids. He turns just enough to see Rafael's back turned to him, the sheets only half covering him. His breathing is even, almost peaceful.
But Jonas isn't.
He stares, questions screaming in his head, heart thudding like a traitor in his chest. Was it really his underwear? Was Rafael really thinking of him? Was that, was that all for him?
But he says nothing.
He acts normal. Packs his things. Brushes his teeth. Even hums a little tune as if his world hasn't tilted on its axis.
And when Rafael stirs, stretching with a low grunt, Jonas smiles and says, "Morning."
And Rafael… freezes.
Because he doesn't know.
He doesn't know Jonas saw it.
So he nods, hiding his own panic, afraid to meet Jonas's eyes. "Hey… yeah. Morning."
But his voice cracks. Just a little. And Jonas hears it.
What comes after?
Jonas starts testing the waters. A towel left hanging just a bit longer in the bathroom. A shirt slipped off in the middle of their conversation. Subtle. Calculated. Like a slow dance of fire and gasoline.
Rafael? He's spiraling. Trying to keep his composure, trying not to look too long. Trying not to let his hands shake when Jonas leans too close. Because every inch Jonas gives feels like a cruel tease.
And at night, when Jonas is asleep?
Rafael stares at the ceiling.
Mouth dry. Chest aching.
Because now… he's not just obsessed.
He's afraid Jonas knows.
But he doesn't know that Jonas is starting to get off on the power of it. That he likes the tension, the unspoken war of bodies and control.
Jonas was alone in the room again. Rafael had just said he was heading out, tossing a casual "Don't wait up" over his shoulder. Jonas only gave a distracted nod from his bed, already sorting his laundry. The door clicked shut. He assumed Rafael was gone.
He pulled over the small pile of clothes, sorting through shirts and pants, humming softly under his breath. Then he paused, his fingers brushing against something… damp.
His breath hitched.
It was one of his briefs. But not just any, that one. The same one he remembered forgetting to throw in the hamper after the last week's rush. Now it sat here, soaked through with something that wasn't his.
His hand trembled slightly. His eyes scanned it, the fabric heavy, stained, unmistakably marked.
Rafael.
Jonas's throat went dry. For a moment, his mind warred with what his body was already deciding. His heart thudded hard, blood rushing loud in his ears. It had to be what he suspected. The scent clung to the cotton, unmistakable, musky. Raw.
He swallowed hard and slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, eyes never leaving the brief.
Curiosity... no, hunger, took over.
He brought it closer. His nose grazed the still-warm fabric. The second he inhaled, something in him cracked wide open. Heat rushed straight through him, pooling low and deep. His hands, once unsure, now acted on instinct.
He pressed the fabric against his face, breathing in Rafael's lingering scent. It was intoxicating. Maddening. Every moan Rafael must've made burned into his imagination now, echoing in his head like wildfire.
His fingers dipped lower, giving in to the ache.
And from the barely cracked bathroom door, hidden in the dim light and steam-fogged glass, Rafael stood frozen, watching, breathing hard, lips parted. He hadn't left. He hadn't gone anywhere.
And now, he knew Jonas wanted him just as much.
Maybe more.
Jonas's breath came ragged now, chest rising and falling like waves crashing against a stormy shore. The scent had already fused into his brain, burned under his skin. His hands moved with a rhythm that matched the pulsing heat in his core, fueled by every image he'd never dared to acknowledge until now.
He thought of Rafael, naked from the shower, droplets of water trailing down his chest, disappearing under the towel wrapped far too low. He thought of the way Rafael always smelled after gym, that warm, salt-tinged musk that lingered just long enough to haunt him. He remembered the curve of Rafael's back, how his brows furrowed when he focused on reading, and the small, unintentional sounds he made while stretching in the morning.
Every suppressed thought burst to the surface now, dragging him deeper into the fire. He pressed the damp fabric harder against his face, his mouth brushing against the spot where it all stained, groaning quietly as his hand kept working beneath his waistband. He was losing himself. Drowning. And he didn't want saving.
But what he didn't know, what he couldn't know, was that Rafael stood behind the slightly ajar bathroom door, his entire body tensed, lips parted in shock and desire. He hadn't planned to watch. He only wanted to see Jonas' reaction. But now... he couldn't look away.
The sight of Jonas completely lost in him, touched by the very evidence of Rafael's need, was pushing Rafael to his own breaking point. His hand tightened over the doorknob. His legs begged to move, to storm out, to cross the space and claim what had clearly always been his.
Jonas was on the edge. His hand trembled with the weight of lust and guilt, breath shallow, skin flushed. The scent on the brief tangled with his senses like a drug, and he was too far gone to think. Just a little more. Just one----
The sudden creak of the bathroom door cut through the silence like a blade.
His eyes shot open.
There stood Rafael.
Not a word spoken. Not a breath wasted.
Jonas froze, every inch of his body paralyzed, caught in the act, his flushed face a perfect portrait of shame and pleasure. "R-Rafael----"
But Rafael had already moved.
Slow, deliberate steps.
Like a predator drawn to heat.
He knelt between Jonas' trembling thighs, eyes dark with hunger and something far deeper, something primal. His hands slid along Jonas' hips, gripping firm but reverent, and Jonas gasped.
"I shouldn't----" Jonas tried to speak, tried to resist.
But Rafael leaned in, the scent of Jonas mixed with his own sin staining the air between them. "You wanted this," he whispered against Jonas' skin. "I saw it. Every day. Every damn night."
And then his mouth descended.
Jonas arched, a moan torn from his throat as his fingers dug into the sheets. Thoughts shattered. Pride dissolved. There was only the wet heat of Rafael's mouth, the fervent hunger in every lick and pull, the obscene slurps echoing like confessions.
Jonas was unraveling, falling apart under him.
And Rafael? He wasn't just tasting.
He was claiming.
Every flick of his tongue. Every groan that vibrated against Jonas' core. Every graze of teeth.
This was months of longing, silent obsessions, repressed tension, finally combusting.
And when Jonas cried out, finally pushed to the edge he'd tried so hard to escape, Rafael didn't stop. He swallowed every last drop of Jonas' trembling need, eyes never leaving him.
Only when Jonas lay there, ruined and panting, did Rafael rise, slowly, lips still glistening, eyes still dark.
He leaned close, lips brushing Jonas' ear.
"I hope you're ready, Jonas," he whispered, voice low and wicked.
"Because I'm not letting you run now."
Jonas was barely catching his breath when Rafael's hands found his waist again, firm and possessive.
"Rafael---" he started, but the name melted on his tongue, just a breath, just a whisper.
Rafael turned him over, slow but sure, revealing the curve of his back, the flush of his skin. Jonas didn't resist. Couldn't. His body felt weightless, consumed, already molded to Rafael's grip. Vulnerable, offered, his.
A kiss pressed between his shoulder blades. Another lower, hotter, wetter. Each one sent tremors through his spine. He buried his face into the pillow as Rafael's mouth trailed down his back, marking him in soft, open-mouthed kisses, in licks that lingered.
"I've waited too long," Rafael murmured against the small of his back, breath ragged. "Too long to have you like this."
Jonas didn't answer.
He couldn't.
He arched instead.
And Rafael took the invitation as intended.
There was a rustle, the sound of slick preparation, and Jonas felt it, felt him. Teasing, rubbing, deliberate pressure building right where he was most sensitive. A soft gasp escaped Jonas' lips, his fingers clenching the sheets beneath him. Rafael held him still, grounding them both.
Then came the push.
Slow. Deep. Heavy with possession.
Jonas gritted his teeth, back taut, overwhelmed not just by the stretch but by the weight of everything behind it, the months, the silence, the longing, the aching restraint finally snapping.
Rafael was trembling too, forehead resting against Jonas' back, muttering curses and prayers, as if this union wasn't just desire, it was salvation. Every movement was a worship. Every breath shared between them a vow.
The bed creaked, the room filled with the music of skin and panting and whispered names. Not loud. Not brutal. But burning. A rhythm born of need too long denied, drawn out by the ache of having and almost losing.
And in that tangle of sweat and sighs, they were no longer just two boys dancing around their obsession.
They were theirs now.
No pretending. No ignorance.
Just fire.
The room was thick with heat, the kind that seeped into bones and wouldn't let go. Rafael's lips left trails of fire down Jonas' back, each kiss a promise, each breath a confession.
Jonas shivered beneath him, caught in that delicious torment of needing and giving in all at once. His fingers clenched the sheets, nails digging in like he was holding onto something real, something undeniable.
Rafael's hands gripped his hips, steady and sure, the slow, measured movement between them a silent language. No need for words, their bodies spoke in gasps and murmurs, in the ache that stretched beyond skin and muscle.
Time bent and warped, minutes folded into hours, until both were trembling on the edge of everything, hearts pounding in the hush of night.
When finally they stilled, their breaths mingled in the quiet, and Rafael rested his forehead against Jonas' back. A soft smile ghosted across his lips, a look that said: You're mine. No more pretending.
Jonas' voice was barely a whisper.
"Not a word about this, okay?"
Rafael chuckled low and tight.
"Not a single one."
They stayed like that, tangled, warm, and raw, long after the world outside stopped existing.
The first light of dawn slipped through the cracked window, casting soft golden lines across the rumpled sheets. Rafael was already awake, his breath shallow, pulse still thrumming from the night before. He shifted carefully, not wanting to disturb the steady rhythm of Jonas' sleep.
But Jonas was never really asleep anymore, not since that night. His eyelashes fluttered open, eyes half-lidded and glazed with lingering dreams. He caught Rafael's gaze across the narrow space between their beds, a slow, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Without a word, Rafael slid off his bed, bare feet silent on the cool floor. The space between them was small, but the air around them buzzed with the weight of everything unspoken. He closed the distance with deliberate slowness, letting his fingers trace the line of Jonas' jaw, down the curve of his neck, his skin warm and real beneath his touch.
Jonas' breath hitched, the ghost of last night's fire still alive inside him. Rafael's hand slid under the thin fabric of Jonas' shirt, warm fingertips pressing against heated skin, memorizing every tremble, every small reaction.
They moved with the same cautious urgency, hungry to touch but wary of shattering the fragile calm that settled with the morning. Rafael's lips found the sensitive spot just below Jonas' ear, the low murmur of his breath a tease and a promise.
Jonas tilted his head, offering more, craving more.
Rafael's hands found the edge of the sheets, gripping tight for control, for now. Because they both knew what happened when they lost it.
The slow, delicious tension stretched between them, broken only by the soft creak of the old dormitory floor and the distant hum of a waking city.
When Rafael finally pulled back, he caught Jonas' eye again, bright, reckless, and utterly his.
"Breakfast," Rafael said, voice rough. "Then class."
Jonas laughed, the sound light but laced with heat. "Yeah. Breakfast."
They shared a look, a silent truce for the day, before the world outside crept back in.
The room was quiet again, but something had shifted forever. Neither of them would admit it, but their pretending was already wearing thin.
And when the night came again, they both knew they'd be back to that fire.