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“So.”
Mark turns his body to where Jaemin is in front of the stove, facing away from him as he prepares dinner for just the two of them.
Jaemin says nothing else and Mark, who can never help himself once a tiny little seed has been planted in his brain, finally responds.
“So?” said with a questioning lilt, indicating that he’s confused and he wants Jaemin to continue the thought. Mark can practically see the smirk on Jaemin’s face knowing that Mark has taken the bait. He always does and Jaemin knows it. It’s kind of pathetic, but Mark has learned to live with the embarrassment.
Jaemin sets down his chopsticks then and turns the heat to low, giving the pot of what looks to be kimchi stew one last look before turning to Mark.
The silence between them is near deafening, at least it is to Mark. The sounds of the stew simmering in the pot are not enough to quell the blood rushing to Mark’s face. He ignores it, and if Jaemin is feeling kind tonight, then he’ll ignore it too.
He leans against his hands on the kitchen island, eyeing Mark for a moment in such a way that leaves Mark feeling stripped bare, though he can’t understand why. He pouts up at Jaemin. At least Jaemin doesn’t make Mark wait for very long.
“I saw something on Twitter.” This can’t be good. Nothing that Jaemin or any of the others see on Twitter ends up being good.
Mark blinks several times as he processes the statement. Jaemin, again, says nothing else.
“What did you, um. See,” Mark remains in place as the words tumble out of his mouth, trying to steel himself for the worst possible scandal of the century that somehow involves him or the other members. Jaemin is way too calm right now.
In fact, Jaemin is actually enjoying the way Mark has begun squirming in the kitchen stool he’s taken residence in for the time being, watching the way that Mark is desperately trying to sit still and act casual. Enjoying the way that the suspense is quite literally Mark’s personal hell.
He does that thing where he just stares at Mark with an unreadable expression for a moment, and Mark stops squirming, feeling pinned in place by Jaemin’s gaze. It seems like Mark stilling was what Jaemin was waiting for, because finally, finally, he answers Mark.
“Wasn’t anything bad, per se,” Jaemin pauses mid-sentence and Mark feels like throwing something at him. “But, it had to do with you.”
Mark can’t help the way that his eyes grow comically wide, because what on earth had he done lately to go viral? Was whatever Jaemin saw even viral? Or is he just being a freak as usual? Mark does know that Jaemin lurks on the weirdest corners of the internet, and he’s sure that Twitter is no different.
When Mark doesn’t say anything in response, Jaemin raises a brow, and Mark bites. Because he always does. It’s only a matter of how long it takes him.
“Ah– was– was it bad?” Mark furrows his brow for a moment, as if he’s confused by the words that came out of his mouth. Not exactly confused, though. More so that the words didn’t come out as he intended, but Mark’s only ever been good at his words when he’s putting them in a song, writing out both eloquent and unserious lyrics that his fans absolutely lose their shit over.
But this? This is the best that Jaemin will get, which he also knows, and Jaemin is a self-proclaimed master in Mark-guistics, anyway, so it doesn’t even matter. Or whatever the fuck he called it when he told Mark about it.
Of course, Jaemin allows the silence to stretch between them once again, but this time he pulls his entire bottom lip under his teeth and gives Mark a look that has Mark feeling like Jaemin wants to swallow him whole. He isn’t quite sure how to compartmentalize that right now, so he doesn’t, pushing the thought to the deepest pits of his mind before he does something absolutely insane like giving Jaemin his fuck me eyes in a manner that even Mark won’t be able to joke about.
Suddenly, Mark feels warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach, and shame makes itself known, burning bright on his face, and Mark is absolutely certain that Jaemin knows what thoughts are running through his mind at the moment. Jaemin finally speaks again.
“Not at all, no.” Mark furrows his brow again, actually confused this time, and Jaemin’s hand comes up to smooth out the crease it makes on Mark’s forehead. Mark can almost hear the way Jaemin wants to scold him like he normally would, say that Mark needs to be careful or else the lines will become permanent fixtures on his forehead, but he doesn’t. It seems like he doesn’t want to ruin the moment of whatever they have going on right now.
Instead, Jaemin remains silent, dropping his hand from Mark’s face when he relaxes his facial muscles, coughing and averting his eyes for a few seconds before they come back to Mark with a newfound determination.
Mark isn’t sure what that’s about, and he’s struck with the overwhelming need to know what every single expression of Jaemin’s means, what differences the minute changes make and why, and it leaves Mark’s chest feeling a little emptier than it did a few seconds ago. He ignores it.
“S–so, ah. What was it about then?” Mark can only thank whatever god above is watching over him, because he manages to get the words out in somewhat of a level tone, but then Jaemin is giving him that look again, and it makes Mark’s hair stand on edge.
Rather than tell him, Jaemin pulls out his phone, and Mark is even more confused than ever, because if it was something that Jaemin had to show him, then why didn’t he just send it to Mark over text? He did mention that he saw the tweet a few days ago, too, and Mark really doesn’t understand why Jaemin had to wait until he came back from Australia to show it to him in person. Really, it made no sense to him, and Mark was left to wait for Jaemin to find the tweet again, and it honestly makes him more nervous, because if Jaemin couldn’t risk sending it to Mark over text, then how bad is it actually?
He doesn’t notice when Jaemin has found the tweet, already getting into his own head about the possibility of what Jaemin is about to show him being the downfall of his career. This is it, he’s completely done for. At least Jaemin had enough consideration to show him before he got kicked out of the group. From the entire group. And perhaps he’s being a bit dramatic, but years of being an idol has done little to desensitize him to the high probability of a career ending scandal, so he supposes that his anxiety is justified to some degree.
Mark is only brought out of his thoughts by the feeling of Jaemin’s thumb tugging at his lower lip, which has gotten caught between his teeth at some point during his momentary overthinking, and he sucks in a breath of air when Jaemin presses it against the same spot Mark’s teeth just were, the lingering sting forcing Mark completely back into the moment.
He stares up at Jaemin, afraid of what he might see in his eyes, but Jaemin isn’t looking at him. Well, he’s looking at Mark, but not into his eyes. Jaemin’s eyes are on Mark’s lips, watching the fat of Mark’s lower lip as he applies a gentle pressure with his thumb, still holding Mark there, right where he wants him. Mark exhales shakily, and that seems to break Jaemin out of whatever the hell that just was. Mark kind of wants to know where it was about to go.
Mark also fears that he would have definitely sucked Jaemin’s thumb into his mouth if he would have kept it there any longer, and there’s definitely no coming back from that. Things would be irreversibly changed between the two of them, and Mark isn’t sure if it would be for better or for worse.
Jaemin pulls away from the island entirely then, turning back to the stove.
“Dinner is done,” in typical Jaemin fashion, he drags out the conversation, switching the topic as if they were just talking about the weather, or maybe tomorrow's schedules. But of course, it was neither of those things, and Mark can’t stop the little seed that Jaemin planted from growing, unable to grasp the roots and rip them from the soil, instead becoming all-consuming and taking over his mind until it’s all he can think of. Aside from Jaemin’s fingers in his mouth, of course. But that’s neither here nor there.
Mark doesn’t respond, finally moving from the island, silent as he goes to set the table for dinner, mulling over what he wants to say next. Jaemin knows he can’t be normal about what he said, and this is just a part of his game, just to see how long Mark will take to break. Mark feels like he’s going to burst any second now, but he continues as he is, placing cutlery for two on Jaemin’s tiny dining table.
The room remains silent, save for the sounds of Jaemin spooning the stew into bowls and Mark putting out a slew of side dishes and drinks. Mark pauses when his eyes fall on the bottle of soju, hesitating for a little longer than a moment before grabbing that too. He’s going to need it if he’s going to survive the rest of tonight. Jaemin just lifts a brow at him when he catches sight of the bottle, but otherwise says nothing.
Neither of them speak for the next minutes that follow as they get settled and begin eating, and Mark kind of wants to throttle Jaemin for doing this to him. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Finally, Jaemin sets down his spoon and wipes his mouth. Mark follows suit.
“Did you even see what I showed you?” is the first thing that Jaemin says. There’s mirth swimming in his eyes when Mark looks at him, and he can feel his cheeks flush almost instantly, ruining whatever possibility Mark had of pretending that he doesn’t know what Jaemin means by the question. He’s also a little ashamed because he did not in fact see what Jaemin was trying to show him. Mark wouldn’t even be in the state that he’s in if he would have paid attention the first time. Or maybe he would be. He can’t be too sure.
Averting his eyes, Mark shakes his head. He can practically hear the way Jaemin grins, showing all his teeth, and Mark knows his ears are red. He ignores it, of course. He catches the way Jaemin is staring at him in the corner of his eye.
Jaemin just hums in lieu of a response, watching Mark with that look in his eyes. Mark is afraid of how their relationship might change if he meets Jaemin’s eyes. He feels crazy enough that he just might do it, though.
They stay like that for an unknown amount of time, and Mark starts squirming in his seat. He refuses to give in to Jaemin, but what he doesn’t know is that he was winning a losing battle. He’s never been able to win against Jaemin before, not when Jaemin has set his mind on winning, and so there’s no starting now. Whatever game tonight might be. Does it even matter? Mark is going to lose no matter what.
“I can just tell you,” Mark blinks, attention back on Jaemin in a flash, and all the fight leaves his body, needing Jaemin to tell him. At least this way Mark can die knowing, instead of dying while not knowing. Kind of.
Jaemin pauses again, dragging it out, and Mark thinks he might hit him for real this time. Doesn’t think about the way that Jaemin’s hand would catch him before he would make contact. Mark doesn’t end up doing that, though, because Jaemin continues. He lives for another day without Mark losing it on him. For now.
“It was this tweet, with a photo of you,” Jaemin stops again, pulling out his phone. “Hold on, you need to see the photo that they used.” He scrolls for a moment, finding the tweet much faster than he did earlier, and this time, Mark is paying attention, eyes following the way Jaemin’s thumb scrolls past other things of unimportance in his phone. Almost misses the way that Jaemin slides his phone across the table towards him because he’s so focused on Jaemin’s fingers.
He does look when Jaemin’s hand moves away though. And he just stares at the screen. He stares at it for so long that it goes dark, and Mark feels his cheeks flush, ignoring that way that Jaemin snickers at him.
The tweet is… something. It’s a photo of him accompanied by a caption that says ‘we have to keep trying.’ Mark swallows, mind unable to grasp onto anything other than this tweet. It makes something inside of Mark awaken, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to unpack it right now. Maybe not ever.
Thankfully, Jaemin relents, taking his phone back and goes right back to eating as if he didn’t just break Mark’s mind with one simple post, finally giving Mark some semblance of reprieve. Though it doesn’t last for long, because Mark’s mind keeps going right back to the tweet, the photo, to what it means.
He forces himself to continue eating, to act as though he isn’t feeling a little warmer than before. Jaemin’s apartment wasn’t this warm before, was it?
Mark feels like Jaemin moves on much too quickly, and distantly, he knows that this is just another part of Jaemin’s game, but Mark can’t be bothered to pretend he isn’t playing anymore. To pretend he ever had a chance at winning.
He doesn’t do anything about it though. He won’t be able to live the embarrassment of it all down. Jaemin doesn’t leave him hanging for long this time.
“Do you know what it means?” The silence between them shatters with Jaemin’s question.
Mark feels his throat go dry. He knows exactly what Jaemin is referencing. But he just has to ask. He wants to hear the words come out of Jaemin’s mouth. He needs to.
“W–what does it, ahem, mean?” Mark’s voice sounds unnaturally high even to his own ears. He pointedly ignores the grin that has taken residence on Jaemin’s unfairly perfect face.
“It means,” Jaemin pauses, dropping his voice in a conspiratorial manner, leaning closer to Mark, “they want to see you pregnant.”
Mark hadn’t realized he was also leaning in closer to Jaemin until he feels Jaemin’s breath on his face, and Mark jerks back with the glaring realization, hot shame taking a permanent residence on his cheekbones, both from Jaemin’s wording and from how quickly he was willing to push the boundaries of their relationship.
“O-oh. I see,” Mark averts his eyes, full focus on the too full bowl in front of him, and he decides that he needs the soju now. He reaches for the bottle, lifting his eyes just enough that he isn’t grabbing for it blindly, but not so much so that he’ll accidentally meet Jaemin’s eyes again.
Of course, life isn’t on his side, it never is when it comes to Jaemin, it seems, and Mark catches the way Jaemin’s eyes have darkened, still on him. He knows that Mark has seen his look, and Jaemin simply lifts a brow in that infuriating way again, causing Mark to falter where his fingers have just curled around the neck of the bottle.
The moment is over as fast as it came, and Jaemin is looking down at his own food. Mark puffs out a breath of air, trying to calm his burning face to no avail. He takes a shot of soju, welcoming the slight burn in his throat. At least he’ll have something else to blame his red face on.
Mark thinks about the post all throughout the rest of dinner, whenever he catches Jaemin dipping his spoon back into his bowl. He finds himself zoning out at times, only coming back to the present when he catches the tail-end of Jaemin chuckling at him.
It’s unnerving. Humiliating. Hot. Mark wants more of it.
Dinner eventually comes to an end with zero casualties. Well, zero if you don’t count the way that Mark’s shame seems to have died at some point. Because he decides that he can allow himself this. To give in to Jaemin before Jaemin shows his hand.
Jaemin does so before Mark can yield, once again showing Mark that he’s always ten steps ahead.
“Are you spending the night?” Mark blinks at Jaemin, his mind slow to register the question through his sleepiness. Really, the question should be a no-brainer, since Mark always goes back home, back to the quiet of his own dorm and the comfort of his sheets, preferring to be there when he has an early recording the next day.
But right now, Mark is seated on Jaemin’s couch, feeling more at home in this moment than he has in a really long time, and he’s thinking over the question for longer than should be necessary. He must be out of it. He hadn’t even realized when they’d moved over to the couch, so yes, that must be it.
Maybe it has nothing to do with the way Jaemin’s touches have been lingering on Mark’s skin for just a moment too long. Maybe it has everything to do with it. Mark can’t be sure.
Another minute goes by without a response. Jaemin tilts his head in question.
“Stay the night, hyung,” and Mark finds himself nodding his head in agreement, his body moving on its own, because Jaemin only calls him hyung when he wants something from him, the brat. He knows that Mark is weak to it, and he only further proves that because the hyung was all it took for Mark to agree without a second thought. He doesn’t acknowledge that fact.
Jaemin smiles at him, soft. Nothing like his usual teasing smirks or grins. Close-lipped this time, keeping his teeth hidden from the world, and the moment feels like other moments from today. More charged. Jaemin watching Mark with something intense in his gaze. Staring at Mark’s lips in the quiet of his kitchen. Mark smiles back, even though he doesn’t exactly know why.
Something to fill the silence, maybe, his smile louder than words can ever be right now. He doesn’t realize they’ve been leaning in until he feels Jaemin’s hand on his cheek. He jumps only a little bit, but that’s only because he wasn’t expecting the touch. He does nothing to move away from it or Jaemin’s face that is inching closer to his own with each passing second.
Jaemin stops when he’s a few centimeters away, breath puffing out onto Mark’s mouth with every word that comes out of his mouth. Far enough that their lips just barely brush against each other.
“Can I kiss you, hyung?” Something inside of Mark burns. Jaemin only calls him hyung when he wants something. He wants this. Mark wants him too.
“Yeah,” the word is spoken so quietly, that Jaemin feels it more than he actually hears it, but it doesn’t matter, because he gets the message either way, and he’s closing the gap in the next second.
Mark’s stomach does that thing again when Jaemin’s lips press against his own with a light pressure. He doesn’t ignore it this time, moving on the couch without separating from Jaemin. His legs find themselves on either side of Jaemin’s hips, straddling him in a way that would have him embarrassed if not for the fact that it feels so good.
The kiss turns desperate, Mark gasping when Jaemin tongues at the seam of his lips. He wastes no time in shoving his tongue in Mark’s now open mouth, licking everywhere, behind his teeth, the roof of his mouth, tangling with the wet muscle of Mark’s tongue.
He doesn’t know how long they sit on the couch like that, making out like horny teenagers, but what Mark does know is that he might pass out if he doesn’t breathe in the next thirty seconds. He finally forces Jaemin’s lips away from his, dropping his head on Jaemin’s shoulder as he pants, welcoming the air back into his lungs.
Jaemin, not one to be deterred, just continues his ministrations with his mouth, mouthing along Mark’s jaw and down his neck, licking and sucking lightly as he goes. Mark almost wishes he would leave marks, company policy be damned. He knows that Jaemin won’t, isn’t stupid enough to do something like that, but Mark can dream.
The licking and sucking does little to aid Mark in catching his breath, unfortunately. It feels so good, and Mark is letting out little moans and whimpers whenever Jaemin’s tongue laves over a particularly sensitive spot. Which seems to be the entire line of his throat, but that doesn’t matter. Not really when Jaemin’s hands begin to wander.
“Hyung,” is mumbled into his Adam’s apple. Mark’s hips jerk before he can stop them. He whines low in his throat when Jaemin’s hands decide to settle on his hips, not so subtly pressing Mark’s hips forward again, against him.
“Gonna let me fuck you, yeah? Gonna let me fuck a baby into you?” The words are so crude, so fucked up. They sound so hot coming out of Jaemin’s mouth. Mark wants all of it. He whimpers around what sounds like a please.
Jaemin pulls Mark’s hips to grind down on him again, squeezing his fingers tightly, and something inside of Mark snaps. He wraps his arms fully around Jaemin’s shoulders, tucking his face in Jaemin’s neck, breathing in the scent that is so him that drives Mark positively insane, and helps Jaemin by rolling his hips forward.
The response comes in a delicious sounding fuck, hyung falling from Jaemin’s lips.
Their mouths find each other again, kisses turning more desperate and messy. Mark feels saliva spilling down his chin, feeling so much shame yet none at all at the same time that it only serves to make him move his hips faster.
Jaemin’s hands find their way under Mark’s shirt, fingers trailing upwards until they find his nipples. He wastes no time in rolling the buds between his thumb and forefingers roughly, and Mark fucking keens, high in his throat, right into Jaemin’s mouth. He swallows down the noise, along with every other sound that falls from Mark’s lips greedily, pushing and pushing Mark to make more noises of pleasure.
Eventually, Mark’s moans grow in volume and his hips begin to stutter in their movement on Jaemin’s lap, an indication that he’s coming close to cumming already. Jaemin is having none of that, though, and his hands slide back down Mark’s body, finding their home back on Mark’s hips. His grip on Mark tightens, halting Mark’s hips from moving any further.
Mark’s eyes fly open and Jaemin is almost surprised to see that they’re glassy with unshed tears. Jaemin coos.
“N-not yet pretty. Gotta wait for me to fuck you, yeah?” Mark almost sobs. Almost. But he stops himself, blinking back tears, nodding. Jaemin tsks, displeased.
“Gotta give me words, baby, need you to tell me you want this,” Jaemin gives him a little frown, just to accentuate his dissatisfaction with Mark’s response, and it’s like the last piece of the puzzle slides into place in Mark’s mind, because he’s immediately opening his mouth and agreeing verbally, even though he can’t hear anything other than Jaemin and the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.
The next thing Mark knows, Jaemin’s hands readjust, finding themselves under Mark’s thighs, and then Jaemin is moving to stand. Mark chokes on a moan when Jaemin does, wrapping his legs around Jaemin’s waist tightly for the fear that he might drop him. Jaemin, for better or for worse, Mark can’t exactly say, does not drop him.
He knows that Jaemin has been going to the gym more often, and he has certainly seen the difference that it’s made on Jaemin’s body, but he’s never had the opportunity to experience them firsthand. Mark has never felt more turned on in his life.
Mark doesn’t miss the opportunity to mouth at Jaemin’s neck as he carries him through his apartment and to his bedroom , sucking on a sensitive spot directly behind Jaemin’s ear. He’s leaving a mark, whether it's intentional or not is up for debate. It doesn’t help that Jaemin tilts his head to allow Mark better access, coupled with the fact that Jaemin’s hair might just be long enough that it’ll end up being covered entirely. Mark could care less right now, though.
He whines when Jaemin leans over his bed to let him go, forcing Jaemin to follow and fall right on top of him. Of course, Jaemin is weak to Mark, he always has been, so he goes easily, even though Mark knows that he could have remained standing and not on top of Mark if he really wanted to.
On the bed there’s more room, to which Jaemin quickly takes advantage of. He spreads Mark’s legs more than Mark already has, moving down the line of his body to settle between them, eyes never leaving Mark’s the entire time.
They’re both still fully clothed, but Mark is tenting so much that Jaemin can see the outline of his cock, ready to be freed from its confines.
Instead of pulling Mark’s pants off, though, Jaemin lowers his head until he’s eye level with Mark’s crotch, tongue flicking out to brush the wet spot on the fabric. Mark’s responding groan is guttural, and Jaemin needs to hear it again. So he repeats the action a few more times just to watch Mark lose his mind. He knew his hyung was sensitive, but he had no idea he was this sensitive.
“P–please, Jaemin,” Mark whimpers when Jaemin doesn’t do anything else, feeling more drunk on Jaemin than the two shots of soju he had earlier.
Finally, Jaemin tugs on Mark’s sweats, pulling them all the way off with his underwear, and suddenly Mark feels shy, exposed to Jaemin in a way he’s never been before. The reality of the situation shocks him back into the moment and his hands go to cover himself, but Jaemin’s hands catch his wrists before they do.
He pins them on either side of Mark, pressing his weight into them as he lifts himself up to hover over Mark again. Mark is helpless to it, silently cursing Jaemjn for doing so many arm workouts. He pretends it doesn’t start a fire in the pit of his stomach.
Mark knows he muet look like a mess, with his disheveled hair, splotchy cheeks and kiss bitten lips. All because of Jaemin, his brain unhelpfully supplies. His eyes flutter for a moment at the distracting thought.
Jaemin raises a brow at him, studying Mark’s face for a moment.
“Do you want to keep going?”
That isn’t what Mark is expecting Jaemin to say, really. He isn’t even sure what he was expecting Jaemin to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. It’s caring, so much so that it almost feels out of place for the intensity of the last twenty minutes, but it’s so Jaemin, and Mark is grateful that he’s still him. Even if they’re exploring uncharted territory. At least, for them.
Jaemin searches Mark’s eyes as he waits for a response, the weight of his hand loosening on Mark’s wrists. Mark wriggles them free, bringing them up to cup Jaemin’s face in a way that he’s been wanting to do since they started making out on the couch. Better late than never, Mark supposes.
“Yeah,” Mark whispers, giving Jaemin a small smile, pulling him down so that he can kiss him. This kiss is different from the others. Chaste, nothing more than a peck on the lips, but it feels more intense than all the others had.
Perhaps it has something to do with the trust that Mark pours into it, emphasizing that he wants this, whatever this may be, with Jaemin, and that he wants to keep going.
Jaemin smiles into the kiss, and Mark feels something bubbling in his chest. (He’ll figure out what that is at a later date, in the safety of his own home, though).
When he pulls back, he leans his forehead against Mark’s to look into Mark’s eyes again. They’re still dark with want, but there’s something else there now. Something a little fond, loving. Mark’s cheeks are already flushed pink, but the look in Jaemin’s eyes makes them flush deeper, wide eyes staring back at Jaemin.
They stay like that for a moment, a comfortable silence blanketing the two of them like a bubble protecting them from the outside world. Until Jaemin’s eyes grow dark again, intense, causing a shiver to go up Mark’s spine.
His hands fall from Jaemin’s face, baring himself for Jaemin. Jaemin hums in satisfaction, pressing his face into Mark’s neck to nose at the sweaty skin. The tip of his nose on Mark’s neck is featherlight, just enough touch to leave Mark wanting, aching for more.
Mark whines, a hand coming up to tangle in Jaemin’s hair, holding him in his neck. Unconsciously begging him to leave a mark somewhere visible. It can be future Mark’s problem.
Jaemin, of course, has enough wherewithal to not do that, to Mark’s dismay, but he more than makes up for it when he pulls out of Mark’s hold to move back between Mark’s legs and starts to nip at the sensitive skin of his thighs.
He grows bolder with every sound that comes out of Mark’s mouth, sucking a large bruise where Mark’s thigh meets his pelvis, Mark crying out from the pleasurable pain.
Jaemin continues to ignore Mark’s cock drooling on his stomach, moving to Mark’s other thigh to give it similar treatment, until Mark is a blubbering mess, tears streaming down his face.
He looks completely fucked out already and Jaemin hasn’t even fucked him yet. Jaemin can’t wait to ruin him.
“Turn around for me, pretty,” Mark looks up at Jaemin with hazy eyes, almost like he isn’t seeing him, completely out of it. Mark doesn’t register the words quickly, thus not moving quickly enough for Jaemin’s growing impatience, though.
So Jaemin does what any other man would in this situation: he manhandles Mark onto his front. Mark moans shamelessly, blinking when he’s on his hands and knees in a flash. He’s completely exposed to Jaemin like this, and pressing his legs together does nothing to hide the way his hole twitches, now exposed to the open air.
Mark can’t see Jaemin from here, but he practically feels the way that Jaemin is salivating, and hot shame chooses that moment to rush through his body.
“Ple–ase, Jaem– in!” Mark chokes on a moan when Jaemin spits on his asshole. Holy fuck. This is how Mark is going to die. With Na Jaemin’s spit sliding down between his ass cheeks, completely exposed. He hopes that Jaemin will have enough consideration to clothe him before he calls the mortician.
“So pretty, hyung. Can I have a taste?” Jaemin sounds like he’s under a spell, attention entirely on the way that Mark’s rim is fluttering, clenching around nothing but asking for something.
Mark just whimpers out a please.
Jaemin doesn’t have to be told twice. The next thing Mark feels is Jaemin’s hand spreading his ass cheeks and blowing cool air onto his rim, watches it flutter several times, before his mouth is on him, sucking harshly.
“F-fuck, Jaem– oppa,” Mark’s mouth moves before his brain can catch up to it, sluggish in its horny state. Jaemin’s movements falter, but only for a moment. He gives Mark’s rim one more suck before he’s mouthing along the curve of Mark’s ass. Not a second later, Mark feels teeth grazing the fat of his right ass cheek and he lets out a broken moan as Jaemin bites down.
Jaemin’s teeth are gone just as fast as they came, licking over the impression they left to soothe the pain. Mark hopes it leaves a mark in the shape pf Jaemin’s teeth. He’d be happy with a bruise too, though. Any reminders of tonight will be welcome, really.
He doesn’t even have time to unpack whatever the hell just came out of his mouth because Jaemin found it hot. And now Jaemin is licking at his rim again, licking a fat stripe over it. Mark shivers at the feeling, losing all the strength in his arms and falling face first into the pillows. Face down, ass up, like a proper whore. Jaemin’s whore.
Mark can’t even catch his breath, because Jaemin is eating him out eagerly now, pressing his tongue in Mark’s hole, licking as deep as the muscle will allow, which isn’t very far. And not deep enough for Jaemin, it seems. A finger joins his tongue on Mark’s rim, circling it, and Mark keens, pressing his hips back into Jaemin’s face, begging for more.
Jaemin doesn’t disappoint, and he presses his finger inside of Mark, slow, burning without the use of lube, but wet enough from his mouth that it continues to press inside of him to the third knuckle.
He has no idea how long Jaemin eats him out for, fucking more fingers into him until Mark is sobbing into the sheets, tears pouring out of his eyes as his cock spreads sticky precum all over Jaemin’s sheets below him, making a mess.
After some time, though, Jaemin must deem Mark stretched enough, and he finally pulls his face out of Mark’s ass. Mark looks over his shoulder to look at Jaemin with unfocused eyes, catching the way the light shines on the spit that coats Jaemin’s chin, his eyes briefly rolling back into his head at the sight.
Jaemin takes a moment to admire Mark’s ass before doing anything else, though, kneading the fat of his cheeks with his hands, watching as Mark’s stretched rim glistens with spit, clenching around nothing. He curses under his breath, pressing his thumb against Mark’s rim, dry, just to see the way it immediately tries to suck him in.
Mark subtly shakes his hips to entice Jaemin into moving things along. He knows it worked when Jaemin groans lowly, pulling his thumb out.
He reaches over Mark’s body to rifle through the mess inside his bedside table until he finds a bottle of lube. In the process, he presses his still clothed lower body to Mark’s, and Mark whines high in his throat, feeling the line of Jaemin’s cock where he needs him the most. He pushes back against it, but Jaemin prevents him from moving any further with a hand on his hip.
His other hand makes quick work of the button of his pants, fingers slipping a few times in his rush to get his own clothes off. Impatient, Jaemin lets go of Mark’s hip so that he now has both hands available to get his clothes off twice as fast. His touch is gone from Mark’s body no longer than twenty seconds, yet it’s about thirty seconds too long, and once he’s fully naked, Jaemin presses his hips against Mark’s ass again.
Mark seems to be in agreement, as he moves his hips back the best he can in the position he’s in, chasing the feeling of Jaemin’s cock on his sensitive rim.
“Please oppa,” Mark hiccups, desperate, “Please fuck me, fill me up. Wan’ it so bad,” Mark slurs as he looks back at Jaemin, widening his eyes in the way that he knows drives all of his members crazy. He knows that its going to get what he wants, what he’s begging Jaemin for, because Jaemin wants it too. Almost more than Mark.
“Fuck, gonna fill you up ‘til you’re nice and round, fuck you all night until it has no choice but to take,” Mark’s eyes flutter shut at the words, breaths coming faster at the thought of Jaemin defying their biology so he can breed Mark.
Jaemin makes quick work of squeezing lube onto his cock, hissing when he wraps a hand around it, really touching himself for the first time that night. He was so attuned to Mark’s pleasure that he hadn’t even thought about touching himself.
Watching Mark lose himself over Jaemin’s tongue was satisfying enough for him. He could do it all night, if Mark let him, of course. But they could do that again another time, because the current objective is to breed Mark. And fuck, Jaemin will try his damndest, even if it’s literally impossible.
He strokes himself a few times, to get used to the feeling of being touched after not touching himself for so long, just so he doesn’t cum the moment he’s enveloped in Mark’s warmth.
Once he deems himself slick enough, Jaemin presses the head of his cock against Mark’s rim, which tenses and loosens a few times, quickly, in an attempt to suck Jaemin in.
Jaemin, the tease that he is, pulls his hips back when his cock catches on Mark’s rim, making Mark whine in protest.
“Oppa– please, need it, need your cock, fuck me, breed m– e!” Mark’s rambling is cut off when Jaemin’s hips finally kick forwards, his cock breaching Mark’s hole, which clenches around the sudden intrusion.
Mark’s mouth is open, almost like he’s unable to close it anymore, whines and moans spilling from his red lips wantonly as Jaemin slowly pushes on, until his hips are flush with Mark’s ass.
His hands are holding Mark’s hips, fingers drawing circles into the skin as he waits for Mark to relax.
“J–jus’ fuck me, ah, oppa. Can–“ Mark gasps when he feels Jaemin twitch inside of him, “I can take it,” Mark’s eyes are teary from the limited view of his face that Jaemin has, and his hips move on their own accord. Who is he to deny Mark when he begs for him so prettily anyway?
Jaemin just grunts in response, readjusting his hold on Mark before he draws back so far that just the head of his cock is still inside Mark, driving his hips forward with an intensity that has Mark letting out a choked off sob.
He continues doing that, setting a slow but brutal pace that has Mark’s fingers scrabbling for purchase in the sheets and his toes curling. Mark moans so brokenly that he can’t even recognize his own voice, very distantly thinking about how his vocal teacher is going to scold him because of how ruined it’s going to be. He doesn’t really care right now, though.
Not when Jaemin is fucking into him so deeply, making him feel every centimeter as it drags across his rim, fingers gripping his hips so tightly that he has to be leaving bruises in the shape of them.
He’s getting fucked downright stupid, and Mark doesn’t think anyone else has ever done this to him. His mind is turned to mush, only able to comprehend three things: being bred, calling Jaemin oppa, and cumming. Oh god, he needs to cum so fucking bad, and now that he’s thought of it, he cries out with the intent to ask Jaemin if he can cum. But all that comes out is a garbled mess that can barely be passed off as words
Jaemin’s hips pick up their pace, throwing away all semblance of patience as he pistons in and out of Mark. This causes him to shift a bit, and he ends up finding Mark’s prostate. Mark cries out, moaning loudly when the tip of Jaemin’s cock brushes it.
He makes sure to keep his hips angled as such, to hit Mark’s prostate of each upstroke. Mark can’t keep his mouth closed now, sounds endlessly falling from it, and drool spilling onto the pillow.
One of Jaemin’s hands moves from Mark’s hip to drag up his back, until it stops on his nape. He presses down experimentally and Mark spasms in his hold, seemingly having lost all control of his body. Jaemin doesn’t keep his hand there for long, that wasn’t a part of his plan, instead moving further upward until his fingers tangle in the sweaty mess of hair on Mark’s head.
Jaemin uses his grip to pull Mark upward into a seated position against him, forcing his cock deeper, Mark crying out in both pleasure and pain. One of Jaemin’s arms comes around to support Mark’s body, keeping him upright, the hand that was in his hair wandering, leaving a searing trail in its wake.
Mark’s head falls back on one of Jaemin’s shoulders, the one that is essentialy supporting Mark’s upright reality, turning towards Jaemin’s face, mouthing at whatever skin is within reach.
The room is filled with the sound of Jaemin’s hips repeatedly meeting Mark’s ass, until–
“Baby, fuck, look at yourself,” Mark moans wantonly at the words, but he makes no move to look where Jaemin wants him to.
Soon enough, Jaemin tsks, his wandering hand abandoning its path down to Mark’s drooling cock and instead coming back up to curl into Mark’s hair, forcing him to turn his head where he wants, with the addition of the stinging sensation the hair pulling leaves on Mark’s scalp.
“I said look,” Jaemin practically growls in Mark’s ear, nipping at the delicate skin, but keeping his eyes on the mirror across from where he’s taking Mark apart on the bed. They’re dark, lidded, his eyes catching Mark’s, for the split second they’re not rolling back into his head.
Mark tries his best to keep his eyes open, he really does. But the effort of keeping them open when Jaemin is fucking him so thoroughly that his stomach is bulging is so great, and so they flutter shut every few seconds. But he sees what Jaemin is talking about. He isn’t blind.
Through his cockdrunk haze, Mark’s head falls forwards when Jaemin lets go of his hair. From above, Mark can see how much his stomach bulges at this angle. His cock jumps pathetically, balls coiling so tight that he knows he can’t hold on for much longer.
“O–oppa, cum, wan–wanna cum,” Mark practically mewls the words out.
“Y–yeah, pretty? Gonna cum for oppa?” Jaemin’s hand has already gone back to its original plan, moving towards Mark’s cock that has been sitting untouched for the better part of the last hour or so. Mark isn’t keeping track of time. Time is irrelevant now that he has Jaemin’s cock in him. All he knows is that he’s ruined for anyone else unless they fuck exactly like this, unless they can roll their hips like how Jaemin is rolling his hips right now. Marm whimpers, pushing the thought out of his mind, instead focusing again on the way Jaemin’s cock keeps dragging against his rim deliciously.
Mark keens, high in his throat, head falling back on Jaemin’s shoulder again, body jolting when one of Jaemin’s fingers brushes one of his nipples. Jaemin swipes his finger across it to see if Mark will react the same way again, to see if he’ll clench tighter around his cock.
The feeling is addictive, fucking Mark raw, his cock dragging along Mark’s inner walls so deliciously that Jaemin knows that this can’t be the only time he has Mark like this. The way he moans so prettily for Jaemin, always allowing him to get away with things, allowing him to get away with fucking Mark stupid, until he’s left a mess.
Finally, finally, Jaemin’s hand wraps around Mark’s cock, and he jerks his hips forward, chasing the friction.
Jaemin strokes once, twice, and then Mark is seizing up in his arms as he clenches painfully tight around Jaemin, ropes of cum shooting from his cock. Jaemin has to stop moving, Mark’s ass having an iron grip on his cock, instead turning his attention to jacking Mark off, forcing every last drop out of him.
He doesn’t stop moving his hand until Mark is shivering from the aftershocks, whining and pushing at Jaemin’s hand to let go of his sensitive and softening cock.
Mark feels like he’s blacked out when he comes back down to earth, blinking away the spots behind his eyes. He’s slow to realize that Jaemin still hasn’t cum and that he’s still gently rocking against Mark’s ass. If he’s doing it unconsciously or not is up for debate, but all Mark knows is that it’s dragging out his orgasm, the feeling of it lingering despite several minutes passing. He doesn’t ask Jaemin to stop, though.
He clenches around Jaemin weakly instead, and gets a choked off moan in response. Mark feels another shiver shoot up his body, the pleasure from Jaemin’s tight little grinds now bordering on painful and overstimulating.
The hand that jacked Mark off to completion comes up and fingers press insistently at Mark’s lips. Mark doesn’t fight it, opening his mouth easily, welcoming Jaemin’s fingers covered in his cum, licking them clean.
“Good girl,” Jaemin groans in Mark’s ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, causing Mark to gasp. He wasn’t expecting it, but it isn’t unwelcome. He needs Jaemin to say it again, to call Mark his good girl. He needs Jaemin to cum inside of him.
“Wanna be good, o–oppa. Can take it all,” Mark hiccups, managing to find his voice through the haze of pleasure that has draped itself over him, tongue lolling out of his mouth as Jaemin’s hand teases at the head of his cock that has already begun to stir with interest.
“Yeah? Wanna– wanna be a good girl for oppa, jus’ like Chenle?” Jaemin punctuates the question with a rough grind, right against Mark’s prostate. Mark whines, feeling overstimulated, but wanting to be exactly that for Jaemin. He could be a good girl. Or whatever Jaemin wants him to be. He just wants to be good. He sobs when Jaemin’s cock grinds persistently against his prostate.
Jaemin focuses all of his attention there, barely pulling out anymore to instead continue to press his hips in a tight circle to drive Mark closer to the edge, and maybe force a second orgasm out of him. Mark has never done it before, not so soon after his first, but Jaemin’s ministrations are only serving to force Mark’s cock to fill up again, and Mark feels like he’s on fire, from the combination of Jaemin essentially massaging his prostate and teasingly touching his overly-sensitive cock.
Jaemin’s hand, still near Mark’s face, pulls Mark’s lower lip from where it’s stuck between his teeth to replace it with two of his fingers.
Mark moans around the intrusion, sucking them deeper into his mouth, tongue dipping between them until they’re dripping with his saliva. Jaemin pulls them from Mark’s mouth, only to drag them across Mark’s cheek, making a mess of him. He’s sure it doesn’t take much anyway, considering he’s been a mess since before Jaemin even took his clothes off.
“Th–that’s it, my pretty girl,” Jaemin’s hips stutter. He’s so close, Mark can feel it. He needs him to cum so bad.
Mark feels like he might pass out from the oversensitivity, but he doesn’t stop Jaemin. Doesn’t want him to. It feels too good, and so he tries his damndest to hold onto reality, at least until Jaemin has cum.
“Please, o–oppa, cum inside, d–don’t you wan’ breed me? Been such a,” Mark pauses, moaning when Jaemin’s blunt nails dig into his hip, “such a good– ah– good girl for you.” Mark is lost in pleasure, wanting nothing more than for Jaemin to reach his peak, to cum inside of him.
HIs grip on Mark’s form tightens, holding Mark in place as he presses his hips forward, trying to go deeper. Jaemin groans as he does, thrusting unevenly into Mark, desperate as he chases his orgasm.
Jaemin pants into Mark’s ear, his orgasm hitting him when Mark clenches around him one last time, the warm grip finally tipping him over the edge.
He’s saying a slew of things, a combination of my pretty girl, so good for me, my Markie, fuck, gonna fuck you til it takes, but Mark barely hears any of it, the words slurring into a jumbled mess that Mark’s brain can no longer comprehend.
Instead, Mark’s mind is entirely focused on the feeling of warm cum filling him up, so deep inside of him. He can feel every spurt coming from Jaemin’s cock as he fucks it deeper inside. Unconsciously Mark’s hand goes to his stomach, feeling the way Jaemin’s cock is distending his stomach, and if Mark presses down just enough, he can feel every twitch as Jaemin spills inside of him.
Jaemin’s hips continue to rock into Mark’s, dragging against his sensitive rim, and with that combined with feeling his stomach bulging from Jaemin’s cock, Mark feels a second orgasm punch out of him. He’s gasping, whining, moaning, all of it, as his body spasms in Jaemin’s still tight hold, cum dribbling out of his oversensitive cock in weak little spurts, coming out almost clear.
“Oh f–fuck, babygirl,” Jaemin stares down at Mark’s cock in awe through his own haze of pleasure. He drags a finger over Mark’s twitching cock, staring at the way Mark practically squirts as his cock jumps and Mark tries to move away from Jaemin’s touch. He doesn’t go very far, not with Jaemin’s arms still around him, and he can do nothing but sob through it and take whatever Jaemin gives him.
“Look at you, my p–pretty girl squirted all over herself,” Mark moans, sounding pained, dizzy from, well, Jaemin. Everything he’s done up until this point, pushing him over the edge more than once.
That’s the last thing Mark registers before he blacks out, his body finally giving up on him.
The next time Mark blinks his eyes open, he’s not sure where he is, his mind slow to catch up. It takes him several seconds to register that he’s in bed, under the covers. He then realizes that there’s a weight around his waist when he tries to sit up, the arm tightening and pulling him back into a warm chest.
“Stay,” the word is spoken quietly, Jaemin’s voice thick with sleep and a little hoarse, and suddenly the memory of their previous activities flood Mark’s brain. He feels it then, the soreness in his hips and thigh muscles, remembering the way Jaemin essentially had Mark sitting on his cock for the better part of at least a half hour.
“Okay,” Mark’s throat feels like it’s on fire, his voice coming out broken, barely there, and holy shit he didn’t realize how much he was moaning earlier to result in him nearly losing his voice. He’s thankful that he doesn’t have any recording sessions scheduled for at least a week, but he’s sure he’ll get scolded for not taking better care of his voice at some point in the coming days.
Besides, it was worth it, the ache that only really good sex can give you settling bone deep as Mark melts back into the sheets, back against Jaemin.
The silence stretches between them for so long that Mark thinks Jaemin has fallen back asleep, but his arm around Mark’s waist indicates that he’s still awake, not entirely relaxed. Mark himself feels like he’s on the brink of sleep once again when Jaemin speaks.
“So, oppa, yeah?”
Mark reaches back blindly to hit Jaemin wherever he can reach, and he grins when Jaemin whines into the back of his neck, nuzzling his face further into it.
He belatedly realizes that Jaemin’s hand is pressed against his abdomen, having taken a permanent residence there. It hasn’t moved the entire time he’s been awake, and Mark feels his face burn, remembering the thing that led to him getting fucked so thoroughly.
Distantly, Mark hopes that Jaemin’s efforts were not for nothing as he slips into sleep once more.