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Jaemin loses the bet.
He isn’t surprised — he’s sure Jeno had some way of rigging the toss so the coin would land on heads. Still, he can’t forget the intensity in Jeno’s eyes as he grabbed the barrel of Jaemin’s gun and held it against his own chest. It was like he wanted it, like he was goading Jaemin into seeing the job through to the end.
Unfortunately, there’s no time to dwell on it, no time to process the fact that Jaemin has never been more aroused in his life than he was during that fleeting moment where he was silently dared to shoot Jeno Lee in the heart by the man himself. In fact, they’re so short on time that Jeno is barely able to snatch his pistol off the ground and reload it before they’re swarmed. It ultimately doesn’t matter, though, because dealing with the unwelcome company turns out to hardly be a challenge at all.
Jaemin prefers using his knife, but he’s decent enough with his handgun too — of the five shots he fires, four of them leave a bullet embedded in a man’s head. A glance around the blood-splattered room tells him that Jeno must be some kind of firearms specialist, because he’s managed to be almost impossibly efficient. From what Jaemin can make out in the carnage, it seems that the remaining eight attackers were somehow taken out with just five of Jeno’s bullets.
Perfect, he thinks with a giddy sort of glee, lifting his gun again. We both have one bullet left for each other. But before he can make a move, he learns that Jeno is quicker than he thought.
With practiced ease, Jeno catches his hand, stopping his gun from rising further, and spins him so his arm is wrenched behind his back. Metal, still warm with gun smoke, presses to the underside of his jaw. “Nice try, hotshot,” Jeno murmurs, and Jaemin shivers as Jeno’s breath ghosts across his skin. “But you already lost the bet.” He wrestles Jaemin’s pistol out of his hand like it’s nothing, his grip like iron on Jaemin’s arm. “Now it’s my turn.”
Without warning, Jaemin is forced around again and shoved onto his knees. He can’t help the gasp that escapes him as he hits the bloody concrete floor, only for it to turn into a muffled cry of genuine surprise when his mouth is stuffed full a second later. He’s overwhelmed by the taste of metal and smoke — all he can do is stare up at Jeno with wide eyes, his heart pounding as all his blood rushes directly south.
He’s never felt so vulnerable. He’s never felt so alive.
“Look at you,” Jeno says conversationally, like he isn’t pressing the muzzle of a gun into its owner’s mouth. He uses his own gun to trace a line along Jaemin’s jaw almost tenderly. “This is what you really need, isn’t it? This is what you’ve needed since I got a little up close and personal and all you could do was look at me with those fuck-me eyes.”
It’s an unfair assessment of the situation, in Jaemin’s opinion — so maybe he happened to sneak a few peeks at Jeno’s lips in the process because Jeno is stupidly hot, but he was going for his pistol. And truthfully, he was under the impression that their current roles would be reversed if anything did end up happening. After all, he’s had the upper hand all day, or so he thought. He stole the security card from their manager, kept it out of Jeno’s reach with a taunt, even managed to catch Jeno off guard and take his gun — but he’s starting to think maybe Jeno let himself get caught, and he’s been playing right into Jeno’s hands ever since.
The point is, he’s the one on his knees with a gun in his mouth now, so it’s not like he’s in any position to protest Jeno’s assessment of what led them here. To be honest, he doesn’t think he’d be able to, even if he wanted to. He’s too busy focusing on the only two points of relevance — the weight of the pistol on his tongue and the throbbing ache of his cock.
Jeno begins moving the gun experimentally, leisurely, his eyes never leaving Jaemin’s as he slides it in and out. Saliva pools in his mouth, but Jaemin has never been one to back down from a challenge. He doesn’t break eye contact either as he moans airily, hollowing his cheeks and sucking the barrel. It would take so little, just a slip of Jeno’s finger, for this to end with Jaemin’s blood joining the stains that already cover the floor. The thought of it only spurs Jaemin on more.
“Slut,” Jeno breathes, looking awed. “You’re so easy.”
You want easy? Jaemin thinks, smirking in his mind because he can’t do it in reality. I’ll show you easy. Jeno might believe he has everything under control, but Jaemin has a few tricks up his sleeve too. He wants to see Jeno’s composure waver. He wants to see him snap.
Slowly, deliberately, Jaemin rolls his eyes back and moans again, bobbing his head forward to take the gun deeper into his throat. He lets drool spill from the corners of his mouth as he licks along the barrel. When he opens his eyes again, Jeno’s pupils are blown wide and he’s looking down at Jaemin with transparent lust. It’s close to what Jaemin wants, but it isn’t quite enough.
He pulls off the gun with an intentional pop. He knows what he must look like — lips red, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy — and he plans to use it to his advantage. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice husky. He flicks his tongue out to trace the muzzle of the gun suggestively. “When you had me pinned to my chair? Is this what you would have done if manager-nim hadn’t walked in?”
Jeno’s eyes narrow, his gaze sharpening. He cocks his head, like he’s considering whether answering Jaemin is a good idea. Not that it matters, of course — they both know it isn’t, and they both know he’s going to do it anyway. “No,” he finally says, pulling the saliva-coated pistol away slightly. “I wouldn’t have done this.” In a flash, he tucks his own gun into the holster at the back of his waistband before grabbing a fistful of Jaemin’s hair and yanking Jaemin’s head closer to him. “I would have given you something nicer to suck.”
Jaemin resists the urge to bury his face in Jeno’s crotch, to sniff and mouth at the bulge there. Instead, he lets his eyes linger on it for a moment before he smiles up at Jeno, sickly sweet. “Nicer because it’s smaller? Easier to fit in my mouth?”
Heat flares in Jeno’s eyes. “You seem pretty eager to find out.”
It’s not an incorrect statement, but Jaemin isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of verifying it. He just smirks up at Jeno and raises an eyebrow, daring him to make the next move.
And Jeno takes the bait, but not before pressing the gun back into Jaemin’s mouth. Jaemin welcomes it, watching hungrily as Jeno undoes his fly one-handed. The cock that springs out has Jaemin drooling around the pistol again — involuntarily this time. It’s massive, hard and leaking and covered in angry veins. Jaemin wants to lick every single one.
Jeno makes a noise that could almost be a huff of amusement as he uses the gun to coax Jaemin’s jaw lower, to work his mouth open wider. Jaemin allows it to happen, accepting the cockhead as it replaces the gun’s muzzle. He just about manages not to moan at the taste, but Jeno seems to notice his pleasure anyway. “You were made for this,” he says, pushing roughly into Jaemin’s mouth. “Look at you, gagging for it like this is all you’re good for.” He traces Jaemin’s lips with the gun as they stretch to accommodate his girth. “Just a warm, tight cocksleeve.”
The throbbing between Jaemin’s legs is agonizing, but it’s secondary to Jeno’s brutal, unforgiving thrusts down Jaemin’s throat. Tears leak from the corners of Jaemin’s eyes as he chokes on Jeno’s cock, unable to pull off for air because Jeno’s grip on his hair is unrelenting. In a mockery of tenderness, Jeno wipes the tears away with Jaemin’s spit-slick gun, leaving even more of a mess in their wake.
“I bet y-you could come like this,” Jeno pants, his pace still steady and unyielding. Given how relatively unaffected he’s managed to seem until now, it’s appeasing to hear the slight hitch in his breath as he speaks. “Just from getting your face fucked like a common whore.”
As if in response to the words, Jaemin’s cock twitches painfully. He wants friction, wants to hump Jeno’s shoe like a dog in heat, but his pride won’t let him. Instead, he lets Jeno degrade him, lets Jeno fuck his mouth, lets Jeno think he’s won — and he waits for the right moment.
It arrives in the form of Jeno drawing closer to orgasm. His rhythm falters, just a little, but it’s enough. Jaemin exhales hard through his nose, bares his teeth so they scrape along Jeno’s cock on the next thrust, and in the split second Jeno lets go of his hair in shock, he reaches up and uses all his strength to knock Jeno to the ground.
He scrambles on top, straddling Jeno’s hips and prying his gun from Jeno’s hand so he can aim it between Jeno’s eyes. “Still think I’m just a common whore?”
Infuriatingly, Jeno’s momentary surprise fades almost immediately, his lips curling into a cocky smile. “You suck cock like one,” he says, his gaze flickering from Jaemin’s eyes to his swollen lips to his still-hard cock pressed between their stomachs. He bucks his hips up sharply, and it’s clear that Jaemin’s little stunt did nothing to dampen his arousal either. “Seems like you want to try riding like one too.”
“I could kill you right now,” Jaemin says, pressing the muzzle harder against Jeno’s forehead.
Jeno’s expression doesn’t shift even slightly, though, unexpectedly, his cock twitches where it’s nestled against Jaemin’s ass. Belatedly, Jaemin realizes there’s something resting against his temple too. “You could try,” Jeno agrees, caressing Jaemin’s face with his pistol, which he must have somehow managed to free from its holster as he was falling. “But I think we both know who’s the better shot.”
He’s right, and for some reason, the knowledge that even now, his life rests entirely in Jeno’s hands sends a thrill through Jaemin that goes directly to his cock. “So, what now, then?” he asks breathlessly.
“Now,” Jeno says, taking hold of the barrel of Jaemin’s gun the same way he did earlier, “we make sure this is nice and wet for you.” Before Jaemin can think about what that means, Jeno pulls the pistol towards his own mouth instead of his chest this time, and Jaemin watches, transfixed, as he messily coats the already-slick surface with his spit. He understands, viscerally, why Jeno’s first reaction to him giving the gun a blowjob before was to call him a slut — Jeno looks obscene with his lips sealed around the barrel.
When he’s satisfied with his work, Jeno tugs the gun out, slipping it from Jaemin’s hand and sliding it down between their bodies until he reaches Jaemin’s pants. He holds Jaemin’s gaze and quirks an eyebrow silently. Almost like he’s compelled to, Jaemin follows the unspoken command, tugging his pants and underwear down obediently.
Jeno’s lips curl upward. “Good boy,” he says. It’s not meant to be genuine praise — his tone is condescending and his expression patronizing — but Jaemin can’t stop the dribble of precum that leaks from his cock. Jeno just smirks and uses the gun to clean the tip. Then he moves it down and positions it so it’s next to his cock, pointing up.
For a heartbeat, Jaemin stares at it. “We make sure it’s nice and wet...for me...” he whispers, lightheaded as the meaning of Jeno’s words finally takes root in his mind. When he looks up again, Jeno is already staring back, his eyes blazing.
“Well?” he says. “It’s ready for you. So ride it.”
Once again, it’s like Jaemin can’t help himself — he does as he’s told. The saliva on the barrel does very little to ease the slide, but Jaemin ignores the burn. If he doesn’t succeed in doing it this way, he knows Jeno will push him onto his back and fuck him with it himself. And as tempting as it is to allow that to happen, he wants to maintain some semblance of control — because the way Jeno is watching him through hooded eyes, his gaze never leaving Jaemin’s face, makes him feel drunk on power, makes him feel invincible.
But then Jeno says, “Stop,” and the illusion shatters. For all that Jaemin feels like he’s in the driver’s seat, Jeno is the one holding two guns, and one of them is inside Jaemin. “As pretty as you look like this,” Jeno continues, tugging the pistol out and tossing it aside, “I think it’s time for you to take a real cock.”
Effortlessly, he rolls them over so Jaemin is underneath him. Before Jaemin has time to recover, he flips Jaemin again so he’s lying face down, ass up, and pins him there. They’re right next to the coin Jeno tossed earlier — amidst a splatter of blood, it’s the only thing left untarnished. The concrete is icy against Jaemin’s cheek, there are four dead bodies within his line of sight, his gun is too far for him to be able to grab it, but none of it matters. The only thing he’s fully aware of is the blunt head of Jeno’s cock forcing its way into his hole.
Even now, unarmed and entirely at Jeno’s mercy, Jaemin can’t help but bite back. “You didn’t — f-fuck — you didn’t want to see how pretty I look this time?”
Jeno lets out a huff of laughter, driving in ruthlessly. “Fishing for compliments, sweetheart?”
“You’re the one who said it first — ah!” Jaemin tries to counter before he breaks off with a moan. Jeno’s movements are so precise and brutal that the pleasure and the pain are blending together in Jaemin’s head.
“You just take it so well like this. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to properly admire your pretty face next time,” Jeno says, a promise sealed with a pointed thrust directly into Jaemin’s prostate.
Jaemin keens, his vision whiting out as he comes without warning. He’s only dimly aware of Jeno’s low groan as he follows suit, but he can’t ignore the sensation of warm cum filling him up. As Jeno pulls out, Jaemin turns around to blink up at him as they come down from their highs. Jeno is still holding his pistol, he notes. The idea of Jeno fucking him so viciously with one hand occupied makes him a little regretful that they weren’t facing each other so he could see.
Cum dribbles from his hole as he tries to sit up, and he automatically clenches, instinctively trying to keep it in. When he sees Jeno watching him do it, gaze fixed between his legs, Jaemin can’t resist. “Is this your way of keeping me from messing up your plans?” he asks, his voice a rasp. “You think knocking me up will stop me?”
Jeno practically growls at that, his eyes black with desire as they flicker up to meet Jaemin’s. “Will it?”
It’s Jaemin’s turn to laugh, a quiet, breathy little thing. They both already know the answer, so Jaemin gives him a different one. “Guess you’ll just have to keep trying to find out.”
Amusement pulls at the corner of Jeno’s mouth as he raises an eyebrow. “You think you can handle that, princess?”
Jaemin smirks back. He picks up the coin and flips it through his fingers before tossing it over to Jeno, who catches it with his free hand. “I’d bet on it.”