Bed and silk problems

Their manager booked one room.

"One bed," Kole said flatly as he rolled his suitcase in. "Of course."

Jackson didn't look at him. "All the doubles were taken."

Kole raised an eyebrow, tugging off his jacket with a smirk. "And no one thought to book two rooms?"

"Would it kill you to share space like an adult?" Jackson shot back, moving to the window, jaw tight. "It's not like we haven't pretended harder things."

"Like what?" Kole asked, dropping his bag with a thud. "Pretending we don't hate each other, or pretending we aren't constantly one breath away from-"

"Shut up, Kole."

Kole grinned and walked into the bathroom without another word.

---

By the time Jackson had finished checking emails, Kole emerged from the bathroom-and that's when sleep died a swift, cruel death.

Kole wore silk shorts. Deep navy, barely clinging to his hips. No shirt. His skin still glowed from the shower, droplets tracing his collarbone. His hair was damp, tousled. He was humming.

Jackson didn't realize he was staring until Kole said, too casually, "You can blink, you know."

"I wasn't looking."

"You were looking. Don't worry, I'm used to being objectified."

Jackson stood abruptly. "I'll take the couch."

"There is no couch," Kole sing-songed, already crawling into the king-sized bed like he owned it.

Jackson stared at the space beside him like it was a landmine. "You take the left. I won't touch you."

Kole snorted, burying his face in the pillow. "Coward."

---

It was past 1 AM.

Jackson lay flat on his back, eyes wide open, listening to the soft whirr of the AC and the unbearable sound of Kole breathing softly beside him.

The silk shorts were a problem.

Kole shifted in his sleep, mumbling something. One of his legs stretched out-touching Jackson's. Bare skin against skin. Jackson went rigid, every muscle tense.

He should move.

He should.

But he didn't.

His fingers clenched in the sheets.

Kole's thigh was warm. Too warm. His scent-something soft and spicy-clung to the pillow between them. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut.

This wasn't in the contract. This kind of torment.

Kole whispered something again, unintelligible, and turned toward Jackson. The movement dragged the silk up his leg. Jackson didn't look.

Couldn't.

He swallowed thickly, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Just sleep, Wang. Ignore it. You've trained harder than this. You've suffered worse.

But not like this.

Not this slow kind of unraveling.

Not this boy with wicked eyes and legs that begged to be gripped.

---

In the morning, Kole stretched like a cat. The silk clung to him indecently.

"Sleep well?" he asked, voice still raspy.

Jackson didn't reply. He was already in the bathroom, door locked, cold water running.

Kole smirked to himself, lips curving lazily.

So Jackson Wang wasn't as immune as he pretended.

Good.

Let the games begin.